caught in the door and caught in the spotlight

there are a few differences between life in suburbia and life in the city that necessitate the uptake of previously unnecssary adaptations, and in some cases, precautions.
for instance, our apartment door has no door lock. instead there is an electronic device that recognizes fingerprints. it is quite nifty, very novel, and even has a limited vocabulary in a woman's voice: "the door is open," "the door is closed," and when you're having a particularly fingerprintless day, "operation failure." i've heard that a lot these past few days, "operation failure" (the demmed machine hates me). now, the only door to the apartment (and the only other door, for that matter) that utilizes a key in a keyhole to lock and unlock the door is the back door, in the kitchen. however, i don't know how to get to it from the outside, and i don't have the key anyway. so, frequently, i am forced to stand outside the front door with my finger that fails to initiate the door-opening operation until someone else comes home or opens the door from the inside. my mother and cousin warned me that if your finger is too cold or not moist enough, it cannot read your fingerprint. so, as finger preparation for the operation initiation, i breathe on my finger a few times before placing it on the sensor.

yesterday, after my shower, i went to my room to clothe myself. i had just finished putting on my pajamas when my dad said from the other side of the door "mei, don't forget to close the curtains before you change." "uh oh..." this has never before been a problem. there is no one to look into my bedroom window back at the cincinnati house, not to mention the windows are too small, and my room too big, that if you did look inside, you probably wouldn't see me at all. my room here, fortunately, and unfortunately has a huge window, and the neighboring apartment building is no more than a swimming pool's length away. "i don't know you," my mother said. "but soon everyone who lives over there will." said my father. and i was left thinking, "i hope the dark windows are indicative of sleeping occupants in those respective rooms."

fobs, mobs, and jobs

it's an interesting turn of tables, being the fob. i've been here so many times, yet every time i come i have to relearn the rules: never take a step backward, don't smile at strangers if you happen to make eye contact, don't trust anyone not to push/mop up/spit on you. it's terribly difficult to manuver, and it's generally impossible to walk in a straight line unless you've worked up some agression.
my chinese is so rusty. my accent is fine, but it takes some time to regain that fluidity after having not used chinese in so long.
i tried to get a job today (wish me luck, friends). i have an interview on monday with a woman named cherry (like the fruit). i called her and we set up an appointment for 2:15pm at a starbucks. "okay, i'll see you there," she said. "um, don't you need to know my name?" "just text it to me. bye." i mean, why would i even think to bother with minute details like that? (goodness, that woman must not be particularly interested in my qualifications either).

the landing at port: shanghai pudong international

no one had come to retrieve me from the airport. this could be bad news. i wandered in search of family members, or the drivers of family members' cars, but none could be found. something about me reveals unmistakeably that i am lost, whenever i do get lost. "if found, please contact..." i really should get one of those. I had just decided that my next course of action would be to make laps through both terminal 1 and terminal 2 of the international arrivals when a man came up to me and asked where i was trying to go. the conversation continued something like this:
"um... i'm not quite sure."
"is someone coming to pick you up?"
"uhh... hopefully?"
"you should call them."
"my cell phone doesn't work in china."
"then go make a phone call. the public telephones are over there. it only costs one dollar"
"i uhh... only have a hundred dollar bill."
at this time there was a pause in our conversation during which he sighed with sympathy, mild disapproval, and a hint of condescension, handed me over to a woman with a phone card who walked me over to the payphone, picked up the receiver and asked in a kind and maternal voice what phone number i was trying to reach.
"oh-- that's a problem. i don't have anyone's phone number on me."
and that's when i was intructed to return to terminal 2, where i originally de-boarded, and wait until my parents would be able to locate me.