"Janky", for lack of a better word.

Taking off from SFO was like being launched out of a canon, and looking back at the insulated bubble known as "The Bay," in which I had previously resided for the last 2 years. Arriving in China was like being back-handed by Yao Ming, and not knowing whether to be deeply offended or appreciative. My initiation to the motherland occurred in Incheon International Airport in Seoul, South Korea, where I spent 20 hours sleeping on benches and trying to learn 2 months worth of Mandarin. At the ungodly hour of 6:00 AM, I awoke to what sounded like a communist marching band blaring through the loud speakers, followed by the entirely female staff of Asiana Airlines engaging in a collective bow, signaling the opening of the check-in counter. Two hours later, I took my first step onto Chinese soil in the city of Dalian, which is larger than Chicago.
I was whisked away to the office of my teaching company by Ed, the only American employee in the administrative branch of my program. Navigating the streets of downtown Dalian in a jet-lagged stupor is where I received my metaphorical back-hand. The smells and sounds of the street race into your orifices in a competition to see which sense will provoke your legs to move faster towards your destination.
Day two began with what is sure to be the first of many "China Moments," as I was sent to a Chinese hospital to get a health clearance to participate in the teaching program. To ease my worries about going through with the ordeal, Ed explained that Chinese hospitals are "janky, for lack of a better word." Supposedly, I was being sent to the least jankiest hospital in town. Once I arrived at this quality establishment, I underwent a battery of tests, the most notable being my first ever ultrasound. Despite the profound confusion this caused, it's nice to know for sure that I'm not carrying a child.
The same day, I was taken to the local police station to receive a residence permit, as well as the inspiration for the name of this blog's website. To complete my application, the police needed my non-existing Chinese name, so by default, I was given the closest sounding, most prosperous name they could think of, or Ji Nuo, which translates as "Lucky Promise." Please, feel free to make any jokes that this inspires in your imagination.
The majority of my first week was spent training with other equally inexperienced teachers in preparation for a teaching job of monumental proportions, which will be explained later. The take home message from these sessions, which were led by a Canadian named Rick, was along the lines of; "There may be up to fifty kids in each class, and they may consist of students at every possible level on the spectrum of language skills, but relax, and have fun with them!" Week one also contained several seemingly inconsequential, but unbelievably satisfying moments like successfully ordering food in a restaurant that didn't have pictures of the food, and participating in a pick-up game of basketball with 12 year old Chinese kids. Small victories must be celebrated.
Obviously, China is a crowded place, but there is absolutely no way to comprehend the magnitude of this statement until you've been in a Chinese elevator. The typical experience consists of three steps. First, waiting until the mass of people ahead of you gets on an empty elevator, and positioning yourself for the next one that's available. (People's eyes usually gloss over in a fierce, determined stare during this stage.) Then, fighting your way into any available crevice when the doors open, and managing not to get violently slapped by the all-too-qwickly-closing elevator doors. And finally, stopping on literally every single floor between you and your desired destination, as more people attempt to join the party. Adventures arise out of trivial acts, like crossing the street, which is viewed by both Chinese motorists and pedestrians as a real life version of Frogger. So far, China is everything I imagined it might be, unlike anything I have ever experienced, which is exactly what I was looking for. Stay tuned for the life of an Engrish teacher.