Well, it pretty much feels like the end game, here . . . we have five, maybe six more days of classes before the program is over. (The plans for our last day, August 13, have not yet been finalized, so I don't know if I have five or six days left to teach.) Tomorrow we'll probably take our last faculty outing, a tour around town. We're coming up on our last weekend, and I'm undecided whether I'll stay on campus or join in the tours and trips that may be forthcoming.

I find I've gotten used to life here in ways I didn't really anticipate (of course). For example, I've gotten used to the sounds. Harbin is a city of 7 million people, and the sounds of car horns, construction equipment, and people shouting and laughing at the basketball courts across the street seem like they go on 24 hours a day, seven days a week. (At least, the horns and construction sounds do.) I haven't heard a bird sing since we got here. I am really looking forward to my first night in my own bed, when I will be awakened by the birds in the morning . . . but I can also understand how, if you grew up amid this hustle and bustle, its absence would make you lonely.

I'm not going to miss the traffic. I've been in some awful traffic, from the Chicago freeways (constantly jammed) to small mountain roads in Austria with no guardrail between you and certain death, to crazy cab drivers in Acapulco. These people beat all of that, hands down. Pedestrians have no right-of-way whatsoever; first come cars, then bikes. There's a traffic circle near the main entrance to HIT, and as far as I can tell, there are no discernible rules for merging - at least nothing I recognize as a rule. Generally, taxi drivers barrel into the circle and honk. The horn is an essential part of driving here; you honk when someone is about to change lanes into you (which happens routinely), you honk when you're approaching a pedestrian (and they jump out of the way obligingly), you honk at bikes, you honk at donkeys and horses (yes, we've seen some), you basically maintain a constant presence in everyone's consciousness by honking. You honk if you're coming up between two cars in a space that's too narrow for you, and the other cars shove over a bit. (It's quite the ordinary sight to look outside the car window and realize that you've only got maybe 2 inches' clearance between your taxi and the car beside you.) People have a very fuzzy idea about how many lanes there are on the road (even if the road markings make some indication of this), and they think nothing of driving on the wrong side and functionally playing a game of chicken with oncoming traffic. At the rate the Chinese are adding cars on the road, this seems like a disaster waiting to happen. Surprisingly, we've seen only one fender-bender since we've been here. (I'll post traffic pix soon.)

I'm being driven crazy by the fact that I can't read anything. A few weekends ago, I went to the bookstore with someone, and it felt like one of those nightmares r movie scenes where, for some reason, you discover that all the print in all the books suddenly is incomprehensible to you.

I finally found a bike rental place. I'm thinking that this weekend, I'll rent a bike and ride around campus a bit. Dunno if I dare venture out on the roads . . .

China seems to be a nation of nonswimmers. There are a few indoor pools in Harbin, but no outdoor pools, and no lakes to speak of. (There's a river, but it's pretty dirty - not even I find it appealing. It'd be sort of like swimming in the Rouge in Detroit.) When they do swim, men and women alike wear bathing caps. (Before I came here, I had this fantasy that I would learn where the pool is, and make regular trips to swim laps. Well, someone took me to a pool a few weekends ago, and I immediately realized I'd never be able to get back there myself - the cab stopped at the edge of the campus of Heilongjiang University, and we walked from there. And even if I did find my way back, I wouldn't be allowed in, since I don't have a government-issued Health Card certifying that I am free from communicable diseases.) If we weren't going home soon, this would be a problem I would HAVE to solve.

On the other hand, I learned that I really like badminton. I played on a proper court with actual rules, instead of the backyard free-for-all that is badminton in the US. It was really, really fun. And I played a bit of table tennis, too - and learned that the Chinese hold their rackets in a completely unusual way. They hold them sort of like we hold pens, with the thumb and forefinger on the throat of the racket, and actually down on the paddle part. I tried it; it really prevents you from whacking the ball to kingdom come. But it didn't improve my game much.

Okay, so I'm falling over with exhaustion now . . . more soon.