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| Of all returns, returning to the routine is the hardest... |
Feb 19th 2020, Chaiyapum
I bought my flight ticket to Changzhou for this Friday. This time I will go. My first and
second tickets were wasted but I don’t want to waste one more ticket. Money is
not the issue as the tickets are quite cheap (about 700 RMB for one way) but I
don’t like staying in limbo for a long time, it affects my productivity. Any
uncertainty ahead of me makes me anxious, keeps me sleepless and prevents me
from concentrating on real work. Besides, W rented an apartment for herself and
moved already. I need to get back to my routine life, the one which has no
surprises, no question marks, no unnecessary stress.
Today I
called my father. He sent a message earlier, saying “Your mother is worried
about you.” He is 75 years old but he still cannot say “I am worried about
you.” So, I called them back, turned on the video as well so they can see me in
the garden with Tuck and her parents. A big show to calm my mother’s tumultuous
heart. I will not tell them I am going to China this Friday. It would be unfair
to my mother. It is like I will never be able to tell my mom that I am an
atheist. As a son, I am responsible for making or keeping my parents happy.
Truth hardly makes parents happy so it is better to hide my return from them
for a while. Besides, throughout my life, all the good things I have done are
the things I have done without telling them or without asking for their permission.
Families exist to worry about their children, they feel the fear with the worst-case
scenarios all the time. If the sons and daughters always worry about what their
parents would be thinking about them, no great historical figure we would be
seeing now. I am not saying that I am a courageous person but I know the
situation in China is not dangerous as well. 1.3 billion people live in China
and 75,000 of them are infected by a virus. So? And most of these people are
living in or somehow related to Wuhan area. Then as a teacher who teaches
statistical significance to his students for the last 14 years, I should know
more than others that the chance of getting infected by the virus is extremely
low provided that one takes the necessary precautions like wearing a mask
outside, staying away from people showing symptoms and not touching
things/people unless it is necessary.
Tomorrow I will take some more photos around
the village and after I return to China, I will share them one by one on Facebook
so my father won’t be suspicious of my silence. I need to warn a few friends as
well so that they will not comment under the photos like “Aren’t you in China
now? Why are you sharing photos of Thailand?” This part should be easily
manageable. In the end, I don’t have many friends who could make that kind of
comments. Then there is the part of the travel itself. I somehow worry about
it. Not that I worry about catching the virus, -The probability of catching
coronavirus if you are not in Wuhan is lower than dying in a traffic accident
and even if I catch the virus, it is quite likely that I will survive.- I worry
about not being able to complete the journey and reach home on time. I feel
like there will be so many checkpoints, so many hurdles before my destination…
What if they stop me because I cleared my throat loudly or I had a short cough
when I face the cold air of CZ airport? What if they want to keep me in
quarantine for 14 days? All I want is to go home, play with the cats, sleep
long hours and write whenever I have a chance. This village proved itself that it
is not very suitable for writing, at least not for this vacation time. So many
things to worry about, my mind is never at ease here. I need my routine, my
simple lifestyle in which I feel uneasy when I don’t write. This place is too
comfortable for me, I don’t feel guilty at all when I do not produce any good
work. Imagine a place where when you want to eat mangoes, you just take the
long bamboo stick behind the tree and fetch a good yellow one from the high
branches. Keep it in the fridge for one hour and then eat! Sounds like heaven,
right? The comfort is a bad thing for a writer, very bad. I need to get back to
my routine life in which I have a fixed time interval for writing. Otherwise,
why am I living? Isn’t it pointless enough to waste this earth’s precious
oxygen for teaching math, running along the lake or making love? I know the
answer, I always know…
Feb 20th
2020, Chaiyapum
I packed my
things. More than half is food. It looks like I am going to a place where there
is a scarcity of food and cleaning supplies. Yeah, I am going to the land of
famine! The luggage is full, the backpack will carry my new computer and a few
books. Then I have a small bag for my passport and phone. I hope there will be no
flight delay and there will be no other problems. I will safely and timely
arrive home, start my 14-days self-quarantine.
The more I
think about the self-quarantine concept the more I accept the deal. Now I feel
like it is something I have to do, a kind of moral imperative or duty that a
citizen has to complete for his/her country. I have no intention of finding an
easy way of it, no intention of avoiding it. Quite the opposite, I sometimes
find myself making plans in my head about how I should be spending my time, how
I should be dividing my day between cats, work, cleaning, cooking, reading and
writing. Even if there is no restriction of movement, I am not very keen on
moving anyway. I had many weekends in which I did not leave home for a second.
However, those days were free choices. When there is a restriction beyond my
free will, when someone else puts the boundaries or the barbed wires around my
existence; things may not be the same anymore. This reminds me of the third story
of my unpublished collection “A Morning in September”. The story is titled “Signs and Symbols”, same as Nabokov’s
famous story but it does not have a relationship with that piece.
To move, one needs to get excited; to get excited, one needs
to have boundaries. Freedom, unlike many others think, is not the absence of
the boundaries. It is to be aware of your boundaries and when necessary having
the ability to jump over them. Yes, freedom is to be aware, of the boundaries,
of the boundlessness and everything exists in between them.
I am
certainly aware of the fact that nothing beautiful comes out from the absolute
freedom. One needs to restrict himself/herself to achieve valuable things. Even
life, the highest achievement of the natural world, starts with creating its own
shell. Know your limits, know both outsides and insides of your limits, know when
and how you can push those limits, know why good things require patience and
patience means adding one brick a day on that amorphous wall. I have been lazy
for almost two months. It is time to return my ordinary life and start being
productive again. If barbed wires, shackles to the table and hidden keys are going
to make me work harder and force me to do the things that I am supposed to do,
then I am happy to be confined within the boundaries of a small apartment and
take a deep dive into the waters which I have been avoiding for a long time.
One cannot have both width and depth at the same time. Vacation is time for
going wide, time for discovering what is out there. When it is over, one should
go as deep as possible to compensate for the loss accrued during the time of
vacation.
Feb 21st
2020, Bangkok
I am at the
airport now. Almost everyone is wearing masks. At gate 3, I expected many
more Chinese travelers but it seems they are not here yet. Will they come? It
is too early to say. There are other flights before the Changzhou flight so
people here may not be going to China at all.
I have
stomachache since last night, I went to the toilet three times already. I hate
having stomach problems during the flights -Who doesn’t? -. It is not only physically
challenging; it is also mentally tiring. What if I have to use the restroom
during the flight? What if my temperature rises or I show signs of sickness?
Then my dream of returning home this evening will be shattered. They will take
me to the quarantine -so-called designated hospitals- and I won’t be able to
sleep on my own bed tonight.
Other than
my personal issues, I don’t see any negative scene at the airport. Since
everybody is wearing masks, it is a kind of an interesting experience to look at
people’s masks -quality, shape, color etc- and imagine things about the
personalities of the people wearing them. I saw a few people with double masks
and a few were using expensive-looking masks, like the ones people would be
using during nuclear wars. And those who do not wear masks are the ones defying
all the fear. They are either ignorant or careless! I am wearing a simple one.
I will need to change it when I arrive in Changzhou.
Normally I
like walking at the airports, spend the remaining local currencies in my pocket
for snacks and small presents. Besides, it is a good exercise before getting
into a small tube where you are forced to sit for many hours, bend your knees
and suffer. This time I don’t move. A small practice of immobility for the
coming days? Or just the bad stomach? I read Durrell’s Justine a bit, a short
story from Behçet Çelik and a few news articles... Time flies. It is
almost 12 o’clock, no flight delay and here we are, boarding on time. Next time
when I turn on this computer I will be home, Boncuk will be sleeping next to
me, Fındık will be complaining about something and Pamuk will be playing with
the paper balls.
February
22nd 2020, Changzhou
I am at
home now. Sitting at the dining table and writing these lines. Yesterday,
almost everything went very smooth so without a major problem I reached home. To
give the entire picture of it, I should go with chronological order. It is
gonna be a long piece but right now the time is the most abundant thing I have. Then
why don’t I use it for something I like.
About
11:30, they started calling us. At that time, I finally realized that the
airplane will be half-empty. The queue was very short and many of the seats in
the waiting area were unoccupied. At the counter where they check the tickets,
there were two ladies measuring passenger’s body temperature and write the
number on the ticket. My number is 35.5. Isn’t it quite low? I thought I would
be about 36-36.5. Then we took the bus to the airplane. I suddenly realized how
hot outside was and I am still wearing the jersey that I put on in the morning.
When we climbed the stairs to the airplane, our temperatures have been checked
again. The Chinese boy right before me -his long hair was closing his forehead
so the lady asked him to move his hair away so she can point the gun-looking a medical device to his head- They checked him twice and then told him to wait
aside. While he was waiting -he might have been very scared- I passed the
checkpoint and proceeded toward my seat. 32 F, at the back of the airplane. “Damn
it!” I say to myself. “I checked in so early, why did they give me a seat at
the back.” Grumpy and frustrated, I walk along the aisle but when I see my
seat, I realize how lucky I am. The check-in lady had put me at the emergency
exit door so there is no seat right in front of me. A lot of space for my legs!
Another good thing is the seat next to me is empty. So, I can put my bag there…
On top of these two, later on, I realized that one of the hostesses has a seat
next to the emergency exit. Still far from me. During the takeoff, she sits and
smiles at me. Knowing that I am one of the three foreigners in the airplane
-there is a young western couple-, she asks me if I work in China. I answer yes.
Then we have a short conversation in half English half Thai. Why am I here?
I came to visit my wife’s parents. Where? Chaiyapum… Ohh, I am from Chaiyapum
too. Which district? Ban Thaen. Ohh, I am from Pu Kio… Wow, I was in Pu Kio a
few days ago… How lovely, how
divine! If God wants to make you happy, He first makes you lose your camel and
then helps you find it. After takeoff, she left and did not come back until the
landing time. This time we don’t talk. Once the airplane stopped moving, we had
to wait in the aircraft for a while. I thought the health officers would be
coming inside and measuring everybody’s temperature. Nope, nothing happened! We
just waited! A young Chinese man came near her and asked for her phone number. She
kept telling the man she does not speak Chinese well and he does not speak
English at all. Plus, she told him that she does not use WeChat. But the man
kept insisting, using his phone to translate what he wanted to tell her. She
looked at me a few times with complaining eyes! “What the hell is wrong with
this man?” I do feel her complaint because I know men, I know how stupid men
could be when they start daydreaming about things that they should not
daydream! They are shortsighted. They don’t think the long-term side of a
relationship. Once the testosterone starts controlling the brain, that
beautiful organ that builds cities, introduces laws, develops science etc.,
evaporates; leaving an organ whose existence and presence are inversely related
to the quality of a civilization… So, I spoke
to her in Thai and advised her
to give him a wrong number. He will be happy for a few days until he
realizes that the number isn’t
yours. She did what I told her, and the man left. I also left at that time, saw
neither of them again.
March 4th,
2020 - Changzhou
What happened?
Why didn’t I write for the last 10 days? I have no idea! One thing I know is every day I thought about writing and every day I went to bed without writing a
word -I carried the shameful feeling to the bed with me, that feeling of incompleteness-.
However, I could not sit and write. Maybe because of the work, grading math
papers on the screen, the never-ending house chores, having meetings after
meetings at the same table on which I eat meals, drink coffee, teach math, grade
papers and sometimes watch movies or reading news. Anyway, today I bought my
dinner from a nearby restaurant so that I can have some time to write. Besides, I took a
1-hour nap in the afternoon, so I don’t feel so tired now. Before writing about
my last 10 days -it will be short anyway-, I should first finish the story of my
return.
At the airport,
they first made us pass a thermal camera checkpoint (That thing must have a
special name!). After that, one by one they checked our temperatures. All went
fine. There was a middle-aged officer who noticed me right before I enter the immigration
queue and asked to see my passport. I showed him my passport. Without opening
the cover, he told me to wait at the corner. I did what he said assuming they do
this to all foreigners. Maybe because foreigners will have a different line or
will have to be asked more questions (on top of our self-declared health form).
But no, it didn’t take long for me to realize that I am the only one who had
been asked to wait. The other foreign couple passed me and got in the queue
without a single question. Then it finally hit my head. It is the same shit
happening. My Turkish passport is the reason behind this uncomfortable
situation again. I got used to it and normally I don’t object to anything they
say as long as they let me in at the end. In the past, they checked my luggage,
they put a soldier with a rifle next to me, they took my phone and returned it
to me after 5 minutes… I am ready for all these but probably not today, not in
a day when I am willingly returning to a country which is the center of a
recent outbreak, not on a day I am doing it because I respect my students, I value
education and I think that learning mathematics is one of the most important features
that make us different from other living organisms. I got angry, how the hell they think that I
will be returning to China with a fake passport in terrible times like this?
When another officer -I know him from the last time- came and asked me where I
work, I tried to calm myself. I spoke gently and answered his questions. I work
at … school, for the last 6 years, almost 7 years. No, I don’t have any
evidence to prove it. You can see my bank cards, my health insurance card.
Look, it has the school’s name here. You can call my boss. Use my phone! What? You
want to see my luggage, go and see it! You don’t let me go there anyway. Photo?
What photo? So, the visas given by your own institutions in Changzhou city are
not enough evidence to prove that I work in this city for the last seven years
but a photo on my own phone will be! What kind of idiot do you think I am? I showed
him my photo with the school director. Then I did not stop, raising my voice
more and more. I showed him my photo with the mayor! Nope, he does not know the
mayor. I showed him the news article mentioning I received Changzhou Honorary
Citizenship Award. It is in Chinese! He
can read it. When he saw it, he took a photo of my phone’s screen. Then I
showed him a photo of my citizenship award. He took a photo of the screen
again. But now I am officially angry! I am shouting and saying things like “When
will you learn how to register names of the Turkish people who keep entering
from this airport? When will you learn how to do your job properly?” He answers
me saying “We are just doing our job.” Then I raise my voice even more. “No, you are not doing your job. If you do
your job properly, you would have had a list of the people whom you have
already checked once. You would have a
list of the Turkish people who officially got their work permit through the
immigration office in Zhonglou district. How difficult is it to get a list? I
bet it won’t be very long, maybe 30 names, not more than 50.” Then he started
to apologize and showed me the queue. But I could not control myself anymore. I
kept talking… I said “I don’t need an apology; I need to be treated like other foreigners.
I have been serving this country for the last 7 years, educating the young
minds of this country, helping them go to good universities, trying to teach
them morals and manners, writing about your people and introducing the real
China to the outside world. As a result, all I got is being treated like a terrorist.
Other foreigners, most do nothing other than working, drinking and traveling
can pass the immigration without being asked a single question. But once you
see my passport you treat me like I am a criminal. I am tired, do you
understand? I am tired of your laziness, the way you don’t do your job
properly, the way you don’t think about the dignity of the people who serve to
your country…” I probably said more things, some very loudly, some quietly. The
officer did not understand much English anyway. Many of the other officers
there were staring at me without saying a word. Nobody knew what was going on.
I was a clown in the middle of the stage and pouring my anger to amuse the audience.
That is probably how I looked like from a distance. Even the young officer who spoke a few English words did not care what I was saying. He was just smiling like he
did something wrong and smile will undo it. He did not even know the word “mayor”
so what could I expect from him? I walked slowly, passed the immigration and
then went outside. Once outside, I calmed down a bit although I was still
talking to myself.
The airport
was unusually quiet and there was no one in the taxi line. I got on the first
taxi and told the driver my address. The road was empty too. However, the
traffic lights were still functioning. We could not go very fast. I got off the
taxi on Zhao Ke Fang street, went to Lawson supermarket first to buy beer and some
snacks before entering the building. At the entrance of the building, the
guards -one of them knows me well- stopped me. I told them where I come from,
but they asked more questions. I had to call G so that he could explain to them my
situation. After the conversation, they checked my temperature and then let me
in. About 7 pm on February 22nd, I was home. The cats were not very
welcome to me on the first night. They behaved like “Why did you come back? We
got used to aunty W!” Only Boncuk, my first cat, the one who loves me the most,
stood behind me a few times that evening. Whenever I wanted to pet her, her
soft fur slipped away under my hands. I think she was trying to say “I sent you
to buy cat food five weeks ago, where the hell have you been? And where the
hell is the cat food?”
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