MOVING IS THE PITS. Ask anyone. Even when you’re relocating for an exciting new job, closeness to family and friends, or for an adventurous change as we did, moving is difficult. That’s because it involves endings and beginnings that, in turn, require arrangements, some quite complicated. So, no matter what reason you may have for the move, moving is the pits.

Our move to China, however, is largely over. After hotels and air terminals and heavy luggage and jet lag, we’ve moved into our beautiful apartment in Shenyang, China. Our apartment is even more beautiful than the initial designs, and we’re relieved to have finished purchasing the countless items needed for our daily routines. Not only that, we’re relieved to finally be doing what we came to do: for my husband, Paul, enrolling in Chinese classes; for me, teaching conversational English.

A hot pink wheelchair!

My wheelchair always prompts accommodations on Shenyang’s sidewalks. Despite how startled people are to suddenly see an Anglo woman bumping down the sidewalk in this ancient Chinese city, they quickly recover and smile. Best of all—more than in the States—everyone helps. For example, our building hasn’t yet installed ramps at the front steps. But, no problem: strong Guards from the development’s entrance hurry forward to lift me in my chair to the door. A tedious chore, but done with smiles.

One final goal in our move was to buy a shower chair for the bathroom in our new place. Several people had mentioned a street where many stores stocked colorful wheelchairs. Truthfully, I was more curious to see the hot pink wheelchair Paul thought he’d seen out of the corner of his eye. Previously, I’ve never seen any other color wheelchair but black. Granted, I hadn’t shopped extensively for wheelchairs in America; however, I’d searched around Los Angeles and even a bit online. Although I’ve seen lots of different designs, they all came in only that one grim color: black. To think, halfway around the world, and I might find a chair in pink!

I’ll take 2!

So, Paul and I took a taxi and went exploring the other day to find the store with the wheelchairs. The showroom was filled with chairs in bold reds, blues, and plaids. Some of those with thick, comfy seats could still be folded into a car trunk. Then, sure enough, there it was: A hot pink wheelchair, just a little darker than the average hot pink blouse! This wheelchair actually looked like fun!

In addition to the pink chair, we selected a blue plaid transport chair to set in the shower, both for only $150. The clerk, a cheerful, competent woman, was uncharacteristically tall and dressed in a black sheath dress and dark red shoes that stretched to a flat, narrow “V.” As I waited for Paul to hail a taxi that could handle both my old and new chairs, “Miss Pointy Toes” gently patted shut my jacket to protect me from the cold wind. In a moment, we waved goodbye.
As we swerved back to the hotel, I fondly pictured Miss Pointy Toes’ colorful chairs. I’ll have to remember those methods of movement if alternative medicine and stem cell treatments, both touted on the Internet, don’t work.

Bullet train to Dalian

A few weeks later, we returned to the store to buy a smaller, fold-up version of my pink chair. We hoped that this one would work well in the aisles of the bullet train to Dalian, a coastal city in China. As its turned out, the aisles were two narrow for any chair, although it did get me closer to a row so that I could more easily transfer.
The bullet train is so-named because it has a sleek, narrow snout and moves extremely fast . . . like a bullet. For those of us from Southern California, riding a train is still a special experience and much more exciting than a bus.

We took the train to Dalian for a weekend visit with Paul’s tutor’s family. Similar to elsewhere, there were no problems getting me on board. A group of soldiers cheerfully whisked me through the railway car door, making me feel temporarily buoyant. Even though my chair couldn’t fit down the aisle, I could at least be squeezed close to a seat, which made the transfer process easier.

Dalian is surrounded by hills, a pleasant change from Shenyang’s flatlands. The area includes several tourist sites; one is a wilderness park with several large concrete homes which were left unfinished because they shouldn’t have been built there in the first place. They reminded me of where we had lived in Los Angeles, beautiful but remote, in sharp contrast to our new city life. Another was a marine park with thousands of samples of coral, colorful fish, turtles, and trained white whales and dolphins. Disgusted as I am with this body, I was especially drawn to the hermit crabs, which abandon old shells for new ones.

Our weekend was full of delicious food, such as home made pickled Chinese cabbage stuffed with pork and oysters and a sweet potato snack native to Dalian, as well as much laughter. After a wonderful weekend and also being reunited with friends and family via the hotel’s Internet, we bulleted back to Shenyang, our new home.

Really home！

As the cab swerved through darkened streets to our apartment, I realized that, if Shenyang is now truly our second home, our moving must be finished. Most of the arrangements have been finalized. Although I miss America and still consider it my first home, I’m relieved to be settled.

（By Carol Huebner）