Hotline life

Waking up to another day's life in limbo was at 7:44am on my watch on Wednesday 29 December. Another incredible 8 hours and 23 minutes of sleep, my Fitbit informs me. I've never slept like this before. I'm waking at a time my body wishes with no obliged run on of activities. Even on holiday before I left New Zealand I barely ever rose after 7am. Now I do without fail. It's winter here now so 7am is still pretty dark outside. I'm still too injured to run so I've got nothing to get me out of bed. I notice some of the kitchen sounds from the downstairs floor. My parents-in-law are about. Even when my younger brother-in-law is about, I'm always the first one down, and at least one younger generation (if I'm generous enough to call myself that) is enough to form quorum for breakfast to crystalise. We have congee, the "yauchei" (a glutinous rice flour inflated ball that's cooked on new years eve, that is delightful to eat then, but deflates by the new year and becomes rather hard and chewy for the coming days) and some turnip cake, which is divine. My grandfather-in-law has already had his coffee. He has a habitual 3-in-1 instant coffee sachet every morning. Blame me for my foreign influence that a man who grew up before the Communist revolution in the 1920s and 1930s, lasted the Cultural Revolution, now likes coffee. He certainly has "rightist" tendencies. After breakfast I have a coffee, too.

I check out the latest news. Don't they know that the Rat brought the plague to Europe? The Year of the Rat is barely days old and it's bad news all round. The numbers of infected are higher than the previous days. A quarter of the reported deaths in China since that ball got rolling happened in a single day yesterday, mostly in a single province. Qingyuan had a single extra case but still in a city of 4 million it's not a big advance. The numbers for Hubei province are nauseating. I remember seeing the pictures of masses of people queuing just to see a doctor. The logistics of an epidemic are apparent immediately. There is simply no place for a surge in any one kind of sickness realistically. They would not have the redundant space and expertise to deal with even a quadrupling of cases, let alone a septdectupling (don't check the dictionary for this word); no place on Earth can really cope when the inevitable Black Swan outbreak strikes. I was reading a story about families queuing for quarantine and being denied it because hospitals have expected standards for quarantine and can only accept a maximum. "Come back tomorrow to check if there's space." Hubei will be a bloodbath. 

My wife drifts down for breakfast and I more forcibly say what I've already told her I've already been musing: We need to get out early. It's not just the rising numbers. It's the risk of our flight being cancelled. Or Guangzhou being "sealed". To be honest, from my reading of the numbers there is next to no risk for me of infection. I'm in a village with no signs of infection. In a city where the "reported" cases are miniscule. (Believe me, if there was a case even remotely nearby, the village would be "sealed". We have a friend who's village has been "sealed".) Access to our eventual flight is paramount. We already know that we'll be at least "soft" quarantined on arrival in New Zealand. Suddenly I imagine spending my quarantine away from everyone on a beach, 27 degrees at Piha.

And so it begins:. I check our belatedly bought travel insurance. Apparently it no longer applied for Coronavirus-related claims based on the date when I bought it. REFUND! Then it's onto the China Southern "hotline". Actually before that there was a lot of mucking around with apps and what-not to come to the conclusion that you had to speak to a person to sort anything. We called the official number. Engaged. We called it again. Engaged. We had lunch and over lunch and some deliciously infused baijiu, we shared our plans of an early departure with my parents-in-law. And also my father's stroke. It was an important chat to have - they understood but were also a little tense afterwards.

While lunch was in session I kept occasionally dialing that hotline number and eventually I got through to the.... Kenny G waiting music. Unfortunate for him, and also a range of other illustrious famous classical composers, Chinese public companies thrash some songs in the making of their infuriating hotline waiting music. It was also a bit unfortunate that I'd switched back to my NZ sim for the call to the insurance company before miraculously getting through to the hotline. I waited 30 minutes listening to that same classic Kenny G saxophone riff. It wasn't even the full song. Just the most familiar bit again and again with the splicing of the recorded voice suggesting us options. Knowing I had limited "Roaming" and was burning through my minutes, my wife dialed again and again and after the umpteenth time she also got onto the Kenny G bandwagon. Amusingly the waiting music was synchronised - we could play them on speaker on both phones and enjoy them without confusion: "We're in stereo," I mused. I tried to read my book but "pressing 1 to continue" was rather disruptive. I should have just watched a movie during the wait if my phone wasn't where I would have watched a movie. I ended my call and let my wife's phone "hold the torch". My wife then promptly passed her phone, the torch, back to me. I told her we'd stay on the line for two hours and then call it a day. Two hours and barely four pages of my book passed and we were still deep in Kenny G's saxxy quagmire. 

"Should we end it?" she asked. 

"Let's keep it going," I said always with that fear that we might have been the next in line when we hang up. After another half an hour, I also thought we should give up and went downstairs.

Grandpa was in the yard on a fine, but cool, afternoon reading the newspaper. My parents-in-law were out fixing a fence to the veggie patch. We went for a brief walk but my wife didn't feel well with her cold and we decided to turn back. Once back, we mused with the now returned parents about the "hotline" coldness. My father-in-law said we should call the English hotline. We laughed at him then but still used both phones in calling the Kenny G appreciation line for the English service and the Mandarin service. Grandpa, though mostly deaf, tweaked with the feeling of stereo sound. It persisted while we read our respective novels. "Badminton?" my wife asked after tiring of reading. I agreed and tried to put her phone through the window outside while still attached to a charging cord. We got outside with racquets and all when I noticed that the "English service" line phone was producing a different sound. It was repeating the phone number of the caller - this was different to the repetitive mantra of the recorded I - I quickly told my wife to pick up and then she tossed the phone to me. (My father-in-law's strategy worked! The English line was faster!)

The lady spoke English well. Since we rang the English line it would be bad form to start using Chinese. As would have been the expectation, changing the date of our flights was exorbitant. After probing with all sorts of possibilities (and almost certainly keeping more never-say-die patient Kenny G fans in suspense) it was clear that it was a substantial pound of flesh, equivalent to buying new tickets. Since we had her on the line, we chose our seats for our original flight and hung up. Expedia couldn't help us choose seats. Since we called a combined total of about 4 hours, the least we could get is our seats chosen, if we were to keep the existing flight.

It was still 8 days to the flight. Tracking back 8 days, so much had happened. Now it was a simple equation: buy fresh one-way tickets and go back early at the price of our original return tickets; or hunker down and, dare I say it, enjoy our last week in China. The last bit was what I thought about most. The whole fuss and fluster of sorting out an exit plan, and also the holding mode we'd been in meant we weren't doing what we were planning to do: Spend quality time with people who might not be around or as able bodied when we next come. They're also people who, if it all "goes to pot", might rely on us to get them through. 

At about 9pm I told my wife that I wanted to talk about the situation. "Let's go early!" she said. "Well, actually I was going to raise staying." It defused a difficult conversation. I'd thought she might want to stay longer. And she thought I would like to go early. Now we could pick how we wanted to handle things knowing that the other person was open to a range. It could be shown to be a foolish choice within any 24 hours but we decided to stay until our original departure dates. 

And so it was a day of to and fro and ending where we first began. I'm writing this on the Thursday after the Wednesday. On the Tuesday I was writing that there was a total of 80 deaths; two days on there are 170 deaths (doubling). On Tuesday there were 39 cases in Guangdong and now there are 311 cases. But only 6 in our city. Looking at that number again I'm filled with doubt for Guangdong. Even with China's extensive system, those are big numbers to hold in quarantine. Especially with Guangdong sending medical staff to Hubei to staunch the bleeding. 

Restive festive

In the fourth day of the festival and things are not that festive. Tan-qin (the visiting of relatives) has been cancelled for the first time in memory, perhaps in history. It's such a habit that the days are regimented: First day of new year, there are no visits; the second there is for particular relatives; then the third day of new year there shouldn't be any. But in the circumstances, with the public advisements and general fear, it has been very minimal. My in-laws have visited a couple of times. Otherwise it's been immediate neighbours who would come over anyway. The youngest son next door has been over two several times but presumably because there isn't much to do. It's not really festive at all.

Fortunately in the last day, the number of cases for the city have not changed significantly. We are on 3 cases, which is what we were on two days ago. That might mean that all the Wuhan infected people were more or less in care. No more cases in the next week would probably cause everyone to take a big sigh of relief. But there are a few possible reasons not to rest or relax vigilance. Like all viruses there can be healthy carriers. Presumably some of those arrived with mild or no symptoms and are infecting people over a longer period of time. And those three cases also may have exposed a large number of people before getting to the hospital. These are both very plausible scenarios.

Extraordinary situations call for extraordinary language learning, and one such term for me is "fung1 sing4" (Mandarin: Feng1 cheng2). I heard this a few times before knowing the meaning. When I heard a word I don't know, my ears, being originally non-tonal ears, relate it sonically: Fung6 Sing4, is another term for Qingyuan city, but a more fancy, poetic way of saying it (literally Phoenix City). It took me seeing headlines in Chinese to know it wasn't fung6 Phoenix, but fung1 seal up, a word with a different tone. Just after new year it was decided to fung1 sing4 Wuhan, to seal it up so no people can get out, to control the epidemic. Then neighbouring cities were also fung1 sing4, all in Hubei Province. With the sudden announcements rumours flew that Guangzhou would be fung1 sing4 as well but the vice provincial governor came out today and said it wouldn't happen, that everything is under control. (Which you might also expect them to say before they fung1 sing4!)

But that's when a new term came in "fung1 cyun1". By analogy, this was easy to get: sealing villages. Sealing cities was about keeping the virus in. Sealing villages, with the examples I've seen, seem to be about keeping the virus out, where village leaders have blockaded roads and said that "if you leave, you're not coming back". I'd heard about it and wondered if it were real. Then our Aussie friend who is also visiting over new year has had his villaged fung1 cyun1. I imagine, with the current methodology if a case of the virus is found in a village it's a reason to fung1 cyun1. I can't imagine that villages would just seal themselves off without a near and present danger, so I think perhaps there was a case in a nearby village. He'd know about it if there was actually a case in his own village. 

Days are pretty long right now without the usual festivities. I get by eating, drinking and reading books. I'm currently reading Jia (Home) by a renown writer, Bajin. It's set just after the overthrow of the Qing but before the Communist overthrow. It's quite interesting because it reads like a Chinese Downton Abbey, with the whole noble family and the whole upstairs-downstairs relationships with servants. 

I put the paragraph in above to distract any readers and myself briefly from the general tone. We've now been told by four different people: Go back to New Zealand early. It's hard to argue with it but, by the same token, it's almost unthinkable to leave the elderly parents and a grandparent here during this time. They would have no immediate support, and if either they or their main local support (my sister-in-law) had an issue, they're on their own. Besides me taking leave of the situation mentally and thinking how grand I am in a historically significant event, it's kind of a bother to be in this predicament. 

Key facts for today and yesterday:

- Guangzhou city itself updated its confirmed cases from 14 to 39 today. (That boggles the mind, almost a 300% increase.)

- In the epicentre, Hubei Province, yesterday between 00:00 to midnight, reported 371 more cases and 24 deaths. (This virus has been around since later Christmas and now has a total of 80 deaths. That means 30% of the deaths so far were yesterday in a single province. Tomorrow will put that in perspective. It's expected to be on an exponential rise.)

Outbreak

There is that certain thing about a virulent, contagious disease that lends itself so neatly to the horror genre. There is the impending fear of infection, the suspicion of others and the things around you, the suspense in the incubation period, the disgust factor of the symptoms and, in the movies, the certainty of death. Such a disease also lends itself well to the media news, where the use of modal verbs can, could, may and might can jack up the street cred of a worse-than-average flu to the potency of the Spanish Flu. I've enjoyed books based on epidemics and watched a fair few movies with that theme, too. And if I'm honest, I am the kind who gets that weird fascination of reading the news reports from outbreaks like Ebola. Now of course I get to live through an epidemic up close in China.

It would be interesting to know how much fear could have nixed the plan to come to China. From yesterday I started to hear people I know biting the bullet and cancelling their flights here. I'd known about the disease for a while before coming. As part of my preparation to come I'd listened to lots of Cantonese radio (SBS in Australia), which between forest fire updates also had the reporting in December of this certain unknown disease that originated in a wet market in the inland city of Wuhan in Hubei province. It was also claimed to be under control and when I left there were no cases of person-to-person transmission. This changed pretty quickly after I arrived as a greater proportion of the news was taken up with reports. There isn't much doubt that information was held under pretty close control to avoid panic. But now, needing to make sure people take it very seriously, the outline of the range and extent of the illness are becoming pretty clear. Majority of provinces have at least one case. Qingyuan, the city where I live, has had its first case.

It struck at the worst possible time, too, just before Chinese New Year when people move en masse back to their hometowns from the cities. If the situation had been handled quickly and smoothly in Wuhan it might have been a different picture. If it had been a city besides Wuhan it might have been a different story. Wuhan, which I have only been to just the once in 2013, is a hub for the high-speed train network. It's also home to a large number of universities for students all over China. Being a super-city for its region with 11 million people, it's also where a huge number of people in the surrounding cities go to work. It's almost go a royal flush – it's just short an international airport to be a real winner in the "not good places for a virus" game of poker.

Feelings on the ground? My family is clearly jumpy. My wife had what was clearly a cold but on Thursday she insisted on going to the hospital. We donned masks as 90% of the other hospital visitors did, a complete change from the past. Afterwards we went to the mall to buy some last bits and pieces for new year, about three-quarters of people were wearing masks. And this is the day before the first case was announced for the city. My nephew has also been sick recently but the dates of the start of his sickness aren't in line with the believed outbreak. But still doubt breeds irrational fears. While people explode festive firecrackers outside to bring in the Year of the Rat.

Solo

It's been over two weeks since I began this short period of living alone. It is a strange change of being, but strangely familiar. The food I'm cooking is quite similar to that I'd cook in my previous single life: vegetarian (although now with occasional fish!). Unrestrained early risings for random fitness (it used to be walks, but now with swims!). Extended reading of books without really worry about time. More strangely though, I'm not staying at work for long past the usual "knock off" time. I had thought that without the need to take someone home I'd stay longer but I've barely done any overtime.

There is the whole "being apart" though. We haven't been apart too long in the past. Very early on, when we weren't living together, I went to NZ for three weeks; there were another couple of weeks when I was on practicum in Shanghai; then there was the business trip for about nine days. That's pretty much it. But with modern communication, there is a weird state of longing without missing. Physically alone ever though the voice and words travel freely.

I've had a pretty good period of swimming. We're lucky to have a 25m pool just 8 minutes walk from home. On the weekends it's relatively empty and I can get a lane to myself. On weekdays the "squad" is there from opening times and I have to share a lane. My injury still persists but is noticeably less troublesome than previously. It isn't a problem for swimming and I hope that it helps me recover so I might be able to run. I'm dreading the thought that I might just be about good enough to run the day I travel to China on Friday. But perhaps that's good: China would reduce my chance of overdoing it. The roads aren't good for running; it's hot and I'll be busy. I still don't know if I'll have the space in my luggage for my usual gear. Also, this problem could still linger far longer than my trip. If I'm being philosophical about it, it might be good for me to be injured till I go to China, because with solitude could come the urge to overdo it and get injured again.

If there was any blessing in all the lack of running, it's that my reading is surging unabated, as is the language learning that accompanies it. I finished of the Mao biography, my longest Chinese non-fiction book, and surged into a really good novel To Live (活着). It was made into a movie I haven't seen, but the book is griping. In three days I've read 130 pages and should read it all before I leave on Friday evening. This importantly lets me leave with a new book in my hand.

I've also put a lot of time into listening to Chinese, especially Cantonese. My ears are now "up to speed" and, in terms of listening to news and current events discussions, better than it was before. I've taken to watching Mandarin dramas to sharpen up too. The combination of reading sometimes and then listening sometimes has a catalytic effect, one skill adding an edge to the other. It's something I always tell students to do, that not many have the persistence to do.

My solitude will be broken in four days. As with an injury, it's important to know how to treasure life both with and without the things that are important to you.

Overturn

They say that blinking plays an important role in memory. Each time you blink, you create a memory. When there is a lot of information to process you blink more to parse what you are seeing. Days and nights could be blinks in our lives too, with sleep, another tool in memory creation, playing its role. The turning over of the calendar is like a longer term temporal blink to break a multifaceted, complex, series of changes over 365 days and put them in some kind of perspective. By writing a blog, I'm committing 2019 into a kind of long term memory to be accessed later if needs-be. It's also the basis for making goals in the year ahead.

2018 was a busy but overall "good" year. I started off injured (my knee after bouncing on a trampoline) but busting through the doubts eventually broke through the 3:30 barrier in the marathon by the end of the year. It ended with injury a fall at Omaha and then surgery on a hernia. Work started with the endless problem solving of having moved into an only partially adequate new site with several staffing issues but it was my responses that by year-end had me awarded the Supreme Care Award (the highest award our company gives). For family, it was the year also that I managed to get my in-laws to New Zealand, and just in the nick of time because events in early 2019 would have nixed it if it had been any later.

In my more instinctive moments I have said 2019 was a "dog" of a year. Two family crises have undoubtedly tinted it with a financial shade of red. My recent injury, which I drag into 2020, has also put a damper on things too. But a general look over those three aspects, health, family and work, I can't say it's much down on 2018. For running, I managed my goal of 3000km almost 2 months early. Though I had wanted to break 3:20 in the marathon, 3:22 is still a very satisfying number. And a 1:29:58 in the half was also a large monkey off the back. Work-wise, our school is going from strength to strength and my prominence in the school is only greater. An unexpected bonus in the closing days at least partially makes up for the blood letting earlier in the year. 

Probably another redeeming thing in 2019 is that I am doing one thing that I enjoy more: reading. And I'm only reading Chinese these days. I'm really making hay with the time that I would otherwise be running. All my recent reading has really fleshed out my knowledge of recent history in Asia, specially China before and under Mao and also North Korea. My current book, which I should finish before I go to China, is Mao: The Unknown Story. There is a sinister story about my first attempt at reading this book here. Regarding the book itself, my wife and I have discussed a lot about whether it could really be objective. The author, who penned the story Wild Swans about how her family suffered during Mao's Cultural Revolution, could be said to have a bone to pick. But she does it with a lot of new evidence to show how her narrative of how things happened could be plausible. It makes sense of many of the odd little side stories that don't stack up well without some underlying story. The Long March is a great example, where it would be impossible for it to succeed without some outside forces at work. There were a lot of jaw-dropping side facts: Zhang Xueliang died in Hawai'i. Ch'iang Chingkuo's wife was from Belarus. When you have a lot of vague knowledge about history, it's nice to have a narrative to make sense of it; hopefully one that is proximate to the truth; and some facts that nail down and enliven the stories too.

Last year I made some goals. This year will be about consolidating things financially and pushing things professionally. Regarding running, I make no goals because I'm not sure if this recent setback is "one of those injuries". But health, I look to change my manner of activity and switch a mindfulness over what I consume. 2020 has a nice ring to it and I am positive about the future.