Plum Rain Season

It’s been raining in Shanghai for the last month. The thing about rain in Shanghai, is that no matter how often it rains (all the goddamn time), everyone acts as if they have never seen rain in their entire life. The first scooter accident I ever got into was because a woman on a scooter skidded to avoid a crash with someone going the wrong way on the street (all too common), and the woman in front of me skidded into her. I skid(ded? skid?) into them, flipped over the handlebars of the scooter, and ripped my favorite pair of shoes.

So yeah, the city and rain don’t mix. My apartment always ends up smelling like wet cat (a different smell than wet dog, trust me) and feeling like a lukewarm Russian sauna. Everything that lives outside the fridge for longer than two days turns into mold. And don’t get me started on the garbage. They say the rain season this year is much worse than the year before. I don’t know if it’s because of climate change or because of the pandemic causing the world to just give up and go haywire, but here we are.

As I said, there is so little going on in Shanghai, that I am forced to write about the weather.

What else? I started seeing a new physiotherapist this week. I am still in surgery recovery, eight months after the operation. It feels tough to say that – because now I can walk and bike and sit up straight. But I still feel disabled. Yesterday, I stood outside for four hours registering Americans to vote for the 4th of July (we got 57 signups!) and my lower legs swelled up so bad that I couldn’t even put on sweatpants. I tried taking a spin class on the Saturday before and my back hurt for the rest of the week. I can’t push my body to the level that I want, in order to get back the health that I used to have. I know this is temporary, but I feel like I have hit another wall.

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