Before joining Peace Corps, while eagerly preparing my list of things to buy, pack and leave behind, I debated endlessly over purchasing the dreaded MP3 player. I had always felt the MP3 player was a clutch which was used to distance people from the rest of society, and I was afraid that if I bought and brought one, I would limit my chances for integrating with my community. Rather than stop and chat with the children playing ball on my daily walks, I'd instead be wrapped up in my own thoughts and loud music. After relentless debating, and after reading countless Peace Corps volunteers' accounts of how their MP3 players were their most prized things they brought, I decided to cave and buy one, vowing to use it only when absolutely necessary. I searched, researched, and then decided upon a wonderfully blue Ipod Nano. The moment it arrived in the mail and I put my music on it, I knew we'd have a beautiful relationship together. And I was right.
Blue Ipod and I have been through a lot together. In a previous post (way previous…) I think some of you may remember when I was on the train coming back to Chengdu's training for the first time from Guiyang (during my site visit) and was attacked by the vicious 5 year old child who threw Blue Ipod in a muddy puddle on the train. Well, that was one of many trials and tribulations Blue Ipod and I had gone through together. Lately, Blue Ipod and I had rediscovered the glory of hikes and long walks on stressful days, absorbing nothing but each other. I also had recently discovered that Blue Ipod was much better company on the crowded busses than the crap music blaring over the buses' intercom, or of the many "laowai" "hello" echoes from the buses' many riders. If I needed loud, angry music, Blue Ipod was there. If I needed soft, melodious tunes, Blue Ipod was there. If I needed to pretend like I could not hear the person sitting next to me, Blue Ipod was there.
Friday, while commuting to Jess and Todd's house (Jess and I spent the weekend, very enjoyably, in Kaili visiting the lovely Monica and I was going to meet Jess beforehand), Blue Ipod and I were having a rather intimate moment ignoring the "big nose" (a common term for foreigners) comments on the bus; Blue Ipod sent lovely vibrations of good 70s tunes in my ear, letting me forget all. Upon nearing Jess's home, a (soon to be ironic) thought popped into my head: Blue Ipod is becoming the crutch I was afraid it would be. I'm distancing myself from society, just like I was afraid of doing. Then, as an afterthought, but, Dear God, who cares? And I turned the music up louder, smiling and nodding my head to the peaceful sounds of Peter, Paul and Mary.
After stopping at Jess's house and saying goodbye to Todd, Jess and I loaded the overcrowded number 17 bus. Clearly, 17 is a dodgy line. I tucked Blue Ipod safely into my purse, held onto my purse tightly, and then carried on a conversation with Jess about our upcoming plans and expectations of Kaili. Before we knew it, we were off the 17, loaded onto the long-distance bus, and snuggling our behinds in the seats, trying to get comfortable. I leaned my head back, reached in my bag for Blue Ipod, and instantly knew something wasn't right. Normally, Blue Ipod's earpieces were the first thing to lace around my fingers when I'd put my hand in my purse, but this time, I instead touched toilet paper, antibacterial hand lotion, my camera, my phone, my wallet, my Ibuprofen, my eyeliner, my chap stick, my green grading pen…No cord. Frantically I looked inside, confident that Blue Ipod was just playing a trick on me. I digged and dug. I emptied the purse. I rummaged through my backpack. But Blue Ipod was gone. Some godforsaken 窃贼 stole my precious Blue Ipod!
It's a sad moment in Guiyang. While I had an amazing weekend and a celebratory International Women's Day (Saturday), embracing womanhood with wine and chocolate amidst the pleasant company of Jessica and Monica, I now am back in Guiyang and feel the loss of Blue Ipod. Blue Ipod had become a dear friend, and now I am without it, without my dear music, and must again face the dodgy buses and hills of Guiyang alone. I know "tomorrow is another day", but now it's "another day" without the shelter of music. Alas, a great loss has taken place, and I am mourning.
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