First few hours in China and memories of other places start to come up my nostrils. The place smells like Malaysia and the humidity in the air sticks to the skin like a jelly substance, which at once protects and irritates it.
The journey has been exhausting and the luggage heavy. Too much equipment and not enough sleep. It’s interesting how events and things have already started to overlap in my head. I am in Ningbo, but it feels like only now my mind has started registering things and events occurred since I landed in Shanghai yesterday afternoon. Sitting on the floor of the bus, which took me from the airport to the South Bus Terminal I was mesmerized by the landscape. I close my eyes and I am there again, the mist hovering upon us – a cocktail of pollution, humidity and cloudy summer light – permeates the air lifting the already tall buildings to a surreal status of post-modern totems.
The electricity towers running along the sides of the highway with their intricate wires split the pale sky in irregular slices. I sit on the floor of the bus among cardboard boxes and suitcases of fellow passengers. My eyes are dying to close on a restful sleep and yet I can feel the excitement running along my spine as it is massaged by the rolling movement of the vehicle, while the impatient horn of the bus driver keeps at bay unruly scooters and wild taxi drivers.
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