I don’t remember much about that Sunday, looking back after three years. It was cold, I recall, much colder than I thought it should be in a sub-tropical area. I huddled in my apartment, on the thin-padded wooden sofa. The television broadcast programs in an unintelligible language. I watched infomercials for breast enlargement creams and drank instant coffee.

My boss, an aged, chain-smoking, New Zealand crone, met with me twice and explained my schedule. I had arrived a week later than the other new teachers. They had had training, a welcome dinner, and a tour. I, on the other hand, was shown around the local area by a disbarred lawyer from New Orleans who talked about his adventures in Asia as a Seventh Day Adventist missionary, and the prices and etiquette related to prostitutes.

My boss was kind, she gave me local currency as I hadn’t converted any. In between drags on cigarettes so cheap even beggars wouldn’t accepted them she explained the times of each period. Her laugh reminded me of a rasp being dragged across a rusty piece of metal. There was no explanation as to what I should teach the following day, only a schedule. The phrase, “thrown to the lions,” echoed through my head.

I ate instant noodles and hot dogs, the only items I’d recognized in the grocery store. It was scary place: Tanks of live fish, eels and turtles filled a wet corner. Cages held chickens and rabbits, watched over by a man in a stained white coat, a giant cleaver in his hand. I could only identify foodstuffs by the photos on the labels. I hate instant noodles, the result of a long year at college and consuming them twice a day.

The Martha Stewart biography movie starring Cybil Sheppard was on the Hong Kong station that night. I watched it absently while thinking about returning to Canada. I would have called an airline if I’d known how to use the card-based telephone system.

On a precipice. And my footing was tenuous.

note: this is an excerpt an unpublished article written for The Toronto Star (after numerous drafts the editor decided she didn’t want it). It’s apt considering my third anniversary in 中国 is today.

I knew I was in trouble when the first taxi driver approached me. It was February 26, 2005, just before noon, Beijing time. I sat outside the Shenzhen ferry terminal, Guangdong Province, the People’s Republic of China.

Taxi was the only word I understood. The sentence that followed was a melodic sing-song that made as much sense as radio static. I couldn’t understand, or explain I didn’t. He smiled from a dark, weathered face at a freshed-face newb, surrounded by a curious assortment of cast-off luggage. With a shake of my head he was gone. I had been extremely naïve. I had told myself: Of course people speak English in China. Maybe half of them do. Right?

In a moment of absolute and numbing fright I realized I was in way over my head.

I don’t know what I expected. A new life? I had traveled 7,838 kilometers to a country I knew only from research. I was on a precipice and it was a long way down.

Under contract as an English teacher at a prestigious private school, I thought a drastic change might make a difference and give me both perspective and insight. My life in Canada had become stagnant. Given my age, slipping slowly from 35 to 40, I wanted an adventure. I had never had one.

Question: What was one of the best things about Thailand?
Answer (from the peanut gallery): The hookers? The transsexual “Ladyboys”?

No, shut up.

Answer: Books.

Yes, Thailand has one the largest selections of English-language books in South East Asia. New, used, mint, or nearly destroyed, The Kingdom of Thailand has them all, ready to be read by the literature-starved, China-based expatriate.

There’s a lots of books in China. Funny though, they’re all in Chinese. This makes reading them difficult for me as I recognize about 100 characters. Note: You need to know about 2000 characters to be able to read a Chinese newspaper.

Buying used books in Hong Kong is a pricy venture. Those Honker bastards like to flaunt there superior salaries by pricing things out of the range of real adventurers. Another reason I hate Hong Kong.

Question: What did you buy, Stevo.

I’m glad you asked. Nothing earth-shattering. Nothing profound. No literature. Candy and fluff really, for a starved mind.

On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, Stephen King.
I wanted to buy this when it was first released. At the time I had no access to bookstore (living in the wilds of Northern Ontario, Canada). When I moved back to the city I didn’t have the requisite funds to purchase said tome. So, a trip to Thailand was the answer. I’ve already finished it. As we are bloggers, writers and scribes of sorts, I recommend this to everyone. It’s packed full of information and humorous anecdotes.

‘Salem’s Lot, Black House, Stephen King’s Danse Macabre, by Stephen King (and Peter Straub)
Yes, mind candy. Salem’s Lot is my all-time favorite novel. It was the first King I read and it scared the life out of me. I’ve read it many times since.
Danse Macabre is King’s non-fiction treatise on the history of horror fiction. I started it years ago but never finished.
Black House is the sequel to The Talisman, written with Peter Straub. The Talisman is a mythical adventure in a parallel world. Black House follows the main character years after the original.

The Rape of Nanking, Iris Change
In December 1937 the Japanese army attacked the ancient Chinese capital of Nanking. More than 300,000 civilians were tortured, raped, and killed during the infamous event. Two movies are being released about Nanking, one American and one Chinese. I’d like to know more about this, and maybe understand a little better why the Chinese bitterly hate the Japanese. On a personal note: Mrs. Stevo’s grandfather had his head lit on fire by Japanese soldiers. You don’t have to look very far to find a personal story related to The War of Liberation Against Japanese Aggression.

Lonely Planet Hong Kong & Macau (Lonely Planet Hong Kong and Macau), Lonely Planet Southeast Asia on a Shoestring (Lonely Planet Shoestring Guides), Lonely Planet Travel Guides
Self-explanatory.

The Best American Travel Writing (2000), Edited by Bill Bryson
A way to see other cultures, in my own backyard and beyond, and learn more about my craft at the same time.

Lost Cities of China, Central Asia and India (The Lost City Series), David Hatcher Childress
I remember learning about an Aztec city discovered in the middle of the jungle, in junior high. Since then I have been a lost city sucker. Indiana Stevo?

I’ll keep you updated on my progress with these books. Things are about to get busy for me again. Maybe I have enough reading material to last until my next vacations.

Captured: Bangkok, Thailand, January 24, 2008.

A sleeping dog at Wat Jetawan, Chiang Mai, Thailand. Dogs are numerous in Thailand, each
wat having its own pack.

Captured: February 1, 2007.