In an attempt to stave off boredom, depression, and loneliness, I hopped in a cab this afternoon and told the cabbie to take me to the front gate of Harbin Institute of Technology, where I studied Chinese a year ago. Wordless save a grunt of assent, he wheeled us up onto Dazhi Street and headed west.

As we swerved among the chaotic traffic and rumbled, horn blaring, by pedestrians, I surveyed the scenery. Before long, we had reached Hongbo Square–the approximate midway point of the 10-minute trip, and the place where the buildings around me began to become very familiar. There was the department store sidewalk I sat on for half an hour, listening to music and waiting for Lauren to meet me and explore. There was the Carrefour we went to occasionally, the cellphone superstore where Bu Aili and I muddled our way through buying our first phones. And finally, there was the front gate of H.I.T. It appeared that nothing had changed.

I didn’t have any real business to attend to there, so I just got out of the cab, put on my headphones, and started walking to places I had been before. The first stop was our old classroom building–still there, no sign of anyone I knew. Next, the dorm. Same story. Walking on these quiet, willow-draped streets, I was struck by how different this place was from my new home. Perhaps I had not realized just how insulated the university was. It seemed calmer there, gentler. I kept expecting to see people I knew walk around the corner, but no one ever did.

I felt like a ghost, so I decided to wander off campus to check and see if my favorite bar, Lijiang, was still around and be sure I remembered where it was. As it turns out, I didn’t. I turned a street too early and felt a sickening drop in my stomach–where the bar should have been, there was merely a shell. Clearly, something had been closed, and no new tenants had moved in. I wandered up to the next street, cursing the world, and suddenly there it was. Thank God. It wasn’t open, though, so I couldn’t go in and get them to write down their address. Instead, this puzzling (to me)
sign was on the door: “不对外营业.” I know all those words, but I’m still not sure what that it means–my best guess is “[We] don’t do business with outsiders”, but I really have no idea at all. I hope that isn’t what it means.

My last stop was the large DVD store in the basement of the giant electronics market across the street from the H.I.T. gate. This wasn’t for nostalgia’s sake so much as for my own sanity. I’m running out of House episodes, and I needed something new to watch. I bought four things: A Clockwork Orange, Citizen Kane, Kontroll, and a box containing every episode of 6 Feet Under ever. I also bought a new VIP card, which got me a significant discount.

Then it was back to my home on Huayuan Street, but not before stopping in the local convenience store and discovering that they do have beer, ferreted away in a dark and distant corner of the store. I bought two large bottles (each slightly smaller than a 40oz bottle in the US), for a total of about $1.47 USD.

Work starts tomorrow, but at least I’m set for tonight.