Dubai: Memories Made, Stereotypes Subdued

A week ago, I returned from a long weekend spent with my mother in Dubai. I was expecting many things. I pictured Dubai as a city of skyscrapers interspersed with sand, camels, and golden Lamborghinis. As a Christian, I was expecting to be unwelcome in a Muslim country. Almost all of these preconceived ideas of what Dubai would be were proved utterly wrong.

Contrary to what I had believed Dubai would be, it is a city that typifies that word so popular with travel blogs, brochures, and general puffery – cosmopolitan. While some of the rest of the United Arab Emirates require certain dress to be worn (particularly by women), Dubai will take you as you are. Even if what you are is frizzy-haired, slightly jet-lagged, and pretty unaware of your surroundings.

During our weekend, my mother and I spent the majority of our time on the multiple bus tours that traverse the city. In past travels, we have found that these tours are a good way to get a better understanding of the city that you’re in. Sure, the experience may be pretty reminiscent of a tourist trap. However, as a foreigner with no knowledge of the area or its surrounds, bus tours are a good way to get your bearings.

On our bus tour, we managed to see the majority of the city. This included the skyscraper-laden downtown/business area, the older town, and the marina area.

How would I describe Dubai to those who have not been there? Imagine a small, succulent, perfectly-cooked steak. Now place that steak in a Tupperware container. Then put that container in another one. Repeat this process at least three times. Why this particular analogy?

Dubai is arguably the most plastic city that I have ever experienced. Almost every aspect of the city is engineered to make the visitor consume and purchase to their maximum capacity. Despite this, under the layers of Tupperware plastic, there is definitely a delectable experience to be had. If one can look past how blatantly consumerist it is, Dubai is actually quite a lovely place to be.

But why is Dubai so plastic? This is something I pondered for most of my first day there. I wondered this until the bus tour enlightened me about one crucial fact from Dubai’s history: oil was only discovered there in the 1960’s. I had previously thought that Dubai had long been an oil hub, and its obsession with being the biggest, best, fastest, newest city that it can be was a long-held feature of the region made easier by modern advances in construction and engineering. In fact, Dubai is so precisely calculated because it could be. By the time the Sheiks of the region had money, there was already an abundance of knowledge about town planning and social construction. So Dubai is so plastic because the Sheiks want Dubai to continue to be the central business destination throughout the Middle East. And if the Sheiks want something, they certainly have the money to make it happen.

All in all, Dubai is a baffling, overwhelming, delightful place. It is not surprising that seventy-five percent of Dubai’s population is foreign nationals. You can make money. You can have a good time. Would I recommend Dubai as a travel destination? Not unless you have very deep pockets. Everything is expensive. But if you’re tired of the traditional holidays and you have money to burn, Dubai will not disappoint. You could spend time in the largest mall in the world by area. You could visit a man-made island in the shape of a palm tree. You can visit the tallest building in the world. You could even go skiing. Dubai has a lot, but be prepared to pay dearly for it.

So, I Have a New Job

After a week of unemployment, I managed to secure myself a job in Wonju. I count myself rather lucky indeed. Why? While I may still be teaching, I am doing so on much closer to my own terms than my last contract. My new job is far more suited to me for a number of reasons: it is a part-time job, I am generally teaching elementary students, and, unlike my previous contract, I will have the ability to take time off to go on holiday, cover Dota events, and generally be more flexible. Most importantly, the job will provide me with a visa to stay in Korea for another year. Having this job takes me one step closer to being able to write and create gaming content full-time. I hope that it is the next step down a road that I truly want to walk down. For now, it’s just another step.

I was put on to the job by a fellow South African who is now learning to play Ultimate in Wonju. Kris, ever concerned with my well-being and ability to be a funcitonal human being, managed to find out that the friend’s school was looking for a part-time employee to cover some classes that were currently being taught by Korean teachers. I later confirmed this with the friend, and messaged the head of the academy in hope.

I waited a few days. There was no reply. I spoke to the friend again, explaining that their boss had not got back to me. On the outside, I was playing it cool. On the inside, I was a molten, swirling mass of emotion. I really wanted the job. It sounded almost ideal for my needs. My friend politely explained that the boss was overwhelmed with the beginning of the school year, and that the boss was very keen to have me. Heartened by this news, my emotions cooled, and I began to wait once more.

A day or two later, the boss replied. She was sorry that she had not responded to me sooner, and arranged a meeting at a nearby coffee shop for the next day.

At this meeting, I was not sure who was more nervous – me or her. She seemed to be warm, kind, and thrilled at my interest to join her crew. We discussed details of the job. We drank our separate beverages. We shared a little bit of our respective life stories. After about half an hour, the meeting was done. I was to start work the next day! Whilst I was saddened that I could no longer spend my days entirely at a nearby PC room or in the house, I was happy to once again be earning an income. In my brief moment of unemployment, I felt deeply castrated by the fact that Kris would be working hard whilst I sat around in search of employment. Now, I will be able to work shorter hours without taking too much of a pay cut compared to my previous job. I am much more comfortable about the situation.

Kris and I are still in the early stages of our new start in Wonju. There are a number of significant events ahead. The Ultimate season starts soon. In about two months, the next Dota Major event will take place, which I am hoping to travel to and cover. Later today, I leave for Dubai to spend a weekend with my mother. All of these things are bright lights that we look to if we are having a mediocre, frustrating day. Around these events, we both need to work hard. And we will. We know the rewards that await us. We also know that there is one place in which we can find limitless energy – one another. Now, I must get off my lazy butt and pack. Thanks for listening. Chat again soon.

New Home, New Challenges

So, Kris and I successfully moved to Wonju. I sit now in our new house, mooching off of our lovely neighbours’ Internet, trying my best not to procrastinate writing this. The moving process was more onerous than we expected, but we got here in the end! Our time in Dongtan is officially over. But, with being in a new place comes new obstacles to overcome. I have to find a job. We  have to make the largely empty space that is our house into a home. We have to try and still save money. We even have to run the local Ultimate team. However, we knew that these challenges would come with the territory. Tackling them will be more than worth it, because we are now in a place where we have a friend base, and Kris and I both think that we will be even happier here than we were in Dongtan.

Moving here was a special kind of mission. Sure, we didn’t exactly have to rent a truck to haul all of our stuff over, but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t require logistial planning. We chose instead to pack all of our things into every available bag in our house and bring them with us on the bus to Wonju. As it turned out, we have accumulated so many things in the past year (or we are simply so bad at packing) that this required two separate trips in order for us to physically be able to move all of our things.

What made the move even harder was the need to move Catsby, our one remaining foster cat. We were incredibly worried that he would be like his foster brother Kichu and yell his little furry head off throughout the trip. Luckily, he was superbly behaved, only loosing a mew when the bus ride was particularly bumpy. So, after attempts at shifting luggage, we got our stuff all moved into our new place.

The most pressing issue on my mind currently is my need for a part-time job. I have elected to forgo full-time employment in order to have more time to write and create Dota 2 content such as YouTube videos, streams, and articles. In order to stay in Korea, I still need to maintain a visa. The easiest way to do this is to procure a visa through employment. Sadly, the pool of part-time jobs in Wonju that are willing to sponsor an E-2 visa is not a very deep pool. It resembles an incipient puddle left in a pothole after a short rain. I do have a couple of promising leads though, and I hope to have successfully chased one of these down in the next week or so.

While we may have brought a fair number of belongings with us, our apartment is still rather barren. The only furniture that has been provided to us by Kristen’s employers is a single bed, complete with base. Compared to our last apartment, where we received a table, some chairs, a couch, and a bed, this is slightly underwhelming. What amplifies the sense of emptiness is the sheer size of our apartment. It is easily double the size of our place in Dongtan. There are three bedrooms, a living area, a bathroom, and a small laundry area. We do have plans to outfit each room to fulfill a specific purpose, but for now, they are mostly empty.

Something that will make the transformation from house to home harder is our desire to save money. This was a simple task in Dongtan. We were both earning full-time employment money. Our cost of living was low. We only rarely ate out or left our home to see friends. All of these factors have been altered by our move to Wonju. We will have more expenses because of the bigger house. I’m not likely to earn as much as I was. We have a bigger friend base, so we will undoubtedly go out more often than we did in Dongtan. This all adds up.

Despite all of this, Kris and I are both happy in Wonju. I will get to pursue my dreams. Kris gets a nicer job. We have a bigger house. We are closer to our friends. These are things that we wanted last year, and we’ve managed to get them. Sure, there are things we need to take care of to make sure that we can make a living, and not simply exist. But it will definitely be worth the effort. I think we’re going to love it here.

How Did a Year Go By So Fast?

Today marks the anniversary of my and Kris’ arrival in South Korea. When we first touched down in South Korea, were led into an unmarked black van, and sped on our way to Dongtan for the very first time, we still had little idea what we were in for. There are many things that I thought would be different. There are many things that are as I had expected them. As I begin to wrap up my first year-long contract, I have caught myself reflecting on the children I teach, who I was then compared to who I am now, and what I plan to do from now.

The first place of obvious change has been in the kindergarten children I teach. I began the year with three bright-eyed, ill-disciplined young rapscallions. Throughout the course of the year, the class has grown to five. Sadly this was not done by mitosis or any other interesting manner. I simply picked up two more children along the way. Whilst they may be more well-versed in English, it is more debatable whether they are actually prepared for their elementary classes. They may be able to speak the language that is used throughout a large portion of the world, but that will not help them in their entirely Korean instruction. Let’s just hope that they can sit still long enough that their Korean teachers do not seek to make an example of them. I have grown fond of them, and I wish them the best in life.

From the outer world, to the inner one. I have grown so much as a person in this year, I find it quite remarkable. I left home a 24-year-old who had never lived in anywhere other than their parent’s house for longer than a month. Now, I have lived on the other side of the world. I have helped support a household that is larger than myself. I have held a full-time job for a year. I’ve even managed to find time to write nearly one hundred pieces into this blog. I am quite proud of who I am today. I look forward to see who I will become in another year of life experience in Korea.

This coming year is shaping up to be another adventure, filled with Ultimate, Kristen, travelling, and self-exploration. I will be beginning the school year seeking part-time employment. This will allow me to focus on my writing and Dota 2 casting and content creation. A few months of more dedicated effort into these areas will hopefully bring new opportunities in these facets of my life that I hope to grow. Finally, I aim to spend more time keeping in touch with friends. Kris and I have only had time to Skype with a handful of people outside our families. Every time we managed to find time to do so, we always regretted not doing so more. This is not a mistake that we shall make again.

Kristen and I have become a little better at adulting in our year in Korea, and there has been much change in our life as a result. Whether we see this growth in our students, ourselves, or our opportunities, we are both eager to see what the next year brings. The next step along our road is the graduation of our kindergarten class tomorrow. We are both very nervous for the proceedings, but not nearly as nervous as we are for what lies beyond. Here’s hoping that our nerves are unfounded, and our best hopes and dreams are exceeded. To another year of success, adulting, and this blog!

On Cellphones at Music Concerts

Any person who has been to a concert recently knows the scourge. All one wants to do is sink your soul into the heavenly (or demonic, for some music tastes) visions and sounds emanating from the stage. An artist that you’ve paid to see and hear and experience with all of your being is giving their all. You’re loving it. All the while, the person next to you is holding up their smartphone, recording the entire show. Or taking their umpteenth photograph, the false shutter sound clacking needlessly. You try to ignore them. Then you take a look around the audience, and realize that one in ten people in the crowd is doing the same.

Before our concert experience on this past Sunday, my girlfriend Kristen and I had not been to a music concert since we arrived in Korea. For people for whom music is an almost constant presence and fuel, this is an exorbitantly long time to have gone without live music. We were excited beyond belief to be enjoying a gig once again. The band in question was Bon Iver – one of Kristen’s favourite bands. I am not nearly as familiar with them, but I was keen to see how their music held up in live.

I needn’t have worried. Bon Iver was phenomenal. They engaged the crowd, performed through technical hitches without sacrificing their sound, and gave a show to rival some of the best I’ve seen so far. I was expecting them to be good. Kristen was expecting them to blow her mind. Both of our expectations were exceeded.

The thing that I had not been expecting was the prevalence of mobile phone usage during the show. I thought that people would take their selfies before the show, maybe one or two pictures to trigger visual memory in the future (“this is where he looked at me! OMG!”), and then put their phone away to become one with the music once more. How wrong I was.

The crowds at two addresses by the Pope, 8 years apart from each other

 

The woman standing next to me had her phone held aloft about 70 percent of the show. Despite a ban on the taking of video at the performance, she insisted on recording the first minute of every song. In between these brief snatches of motion, she captured the band in at least 200 photographs. She spent more time looking at her phone screen than she did looking directly at the stage. And she was not alone – a staggering amount of people in the crowd were doing similar things. Why not just watch a video of the gig on YouTube?

For me, a concert is not simply being present in a place where music happens to listen to it with your ears and see it with your eyes. It is a sacred place, where one comes to slowly be engulfed in the experience gifted to you by a band that you adore. You are there to feel the pulse of the drums against your clothes. You are there to feel the heartbeat of the crowd as the songs flow from the stage. You are not there to stand and stare at a screen for 90 minutes in the hope of getting a picture that could get 120 likes on Facebook, or would look great with an Instagram filter.

I have mentioned in previous posts that I believe that taking digital records of life, be they pictures or video or any other method of preservation, has its place. In the most moving of moments, not even the greatest picture will top simply living completely in that moment. Remember why you are there. If you’re there to take dozens of photos and look as though you’re having the greatest time, snap away. Just be considerate of those around you, and turn your screen brightness down and shutter sound off.

If, on the other hand, you are at the concert to come closer to a band that you have longed to experience on a new level, put the phone away. Close your eyes. Feel the music around you, within you. Smile. Relish the small moments where you can be in the same room as the band that creates the songs that drive your everyday life.

One Week, and They’ll Be Gone

My tenure at my first Korean hagwon is nearing its end. I am seven working days from the end of my contract, moving to part-time work, and heading to a new town. This time next week, my kindergarten class (the students that I teach for five classes every day) will be graduating. They will be at school for the first three periods of the morning. Then they will go, and I will likely never see them again. The five children that spend more time with me than their own parents will likely never remember who I am. Whilst I do find them annoying and draining for most of the time, it does make me a little glum to think that in a few years, they won’t even recall a detail of me.

I suppose I won’t remember much of them either. I wonder what aspects of their small frames and large personalities I will keep in my mind. Will the years take away their more negative traits, leaving them rose-tinted balls of cuteness? Will the happiness be drained from the memories of them until only the sandpaper of frustration remains? These are questions I cannot answer at this time. Not even I know how I will preserve or simply retain the five little people that I helped grow up for a year.

In the past couple of weeks, I’ve caught myself smiling at how far the students have come since we first met. Illegible scrawl has turned to neat writing. Basic sentences comprised of two or three words turned to functional, grammatically-correct phrases. I’ve even turned their American accents a little towards the side of South Africa.

I tell myself that I won’t miss them, but I am perfectly aware that I most likely will. I’ve essentially readied them for schooling. I am saddened that I won’t get to see how far they go in the next few years, as staff members who have been at the school for a number of years have been lucky enough to do. But, the future lies ahead. My aspirations lie beyond the kindergarten classroom. I will keep them in my memories, but not avert my gaze from the goal of making my way in the world as I want to. The next few months will be tumultuous, even by my own standards. I just hope it will all be worth it in the end.

Bacon, Bacon, Bacon, and Bacon: The Story of How Kris and I Met

Those of you who have met or hung out with me in the last three years and change most likely also know or know of my indescribable girlfriend Kris. We have been going steady for longer than any other previous relationship of mine. But where did it all start? How did we meet? Was it love at first sight? The tale begins on an otherwise ordinary night out with my close friends of the time, on the 21st of July 2012…

I had organised a get-together at my favourite restaurant in the entire world – Gino’s. It is a place of many family memories. My mother, my brother, my aunt, and I had all worked at the restaurant. My mother had even owned a franchise branch of the chain at one point. I had been going there since I was one month old, and I felt it high time that my friends join me there. So, I roused my friends, and we met for a late dinner after our regular evening of board games.

We entered the restaurant at about 21h30. We waited for a short while to be seated. When our table was ready, we were met by Kris. I didn’t know it quite yet, but this was the point at which my love life would be forever changed. Even in her work outfit and crusted with the frustrations of an evening’s work, she was the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen. She served us curteously and efficiently. She also showed her charisma and sass, perfectly fitting in with the banter that was flowing around the table. Since then, she has told me that she hated all of us at that point, because we came in late, were a huge table, and took forever to order our food. Clearly the woman is capable of acting nice in order to earn a tip.

Pretty much our table

As the night wore on, we did manage to put in our orders right before the kitchen was due to close. Most notable amongst these was my one friend’s request to have a calzone (pizza dough which is filled with toppings, folded over, and baked like a pie). This was no ordinary calzone. It was a calzone with four ingredients: bacon, bacon, bacon, and bacon. He was one of the last to order. Many people who had ordered before him carefully pondered changing their order after this culinary revelation, but no-one did.

All throughout the meal, I was sneaking glances at Kris whenever I could. I may have appeared to be keeping up with the conversation of the table, but I was doing anything but. I just didn’t want to look like a creep.

The night wore to an end far too quickly for my liking. We paid the bill (making sure to leave a generous tip) and got in our cars. I came with one of my friends in his small car. The moment I was inside, I began the first phase of the grand plan to woo the waitress. There was little opportunity to reveal my intentions in the restaurant without seeming like a creep. Over instant messaging, however, I could be as candid or secretive as I wanted whilst learning more about the fascinating person that is Kris.

There was one obstacle – I did not have her number. Because I had worked at Gino’s myself, I knew that if you asked the waitresses for their number, they would refuse you, no matter how interested they were. This was a policy of the restaurant, created by Gino himself to protect the waitresses from creepers like myself. Luckily, I had a solution to this problem. I simply messaged one of my friends from Gino’s who was also waitressing that evening and asked her for Kris’ number.

Yes. I asked someone else for Kris’ number. Via BlackBerry Messenger (BBM – long may it rest). I am quite cretinous. Despite this, Kris and I chatted briefly on my trip home from the restaurant. After a few casual back-and-forths, whilst discussing something completely unrelated to romance, Kris dropped the news that I was dreading. She had a boyfriend. I turned to my friend. We shared a short stare. I screamed one word, whilst my hand contorted into a claw around my BlackBerry. CURSES!

The road ahead looked rough for me. Yet, I was willing to travel it. I had navigated my way out of the friend zone before. I was determined. I had never wanted anything or anyone that much in my life. Just over a month later, we were a couple. And we are still blissfully happy, three years later, on the other side of the world. Valentine’s Day may not be something we celebrate, but the general  buzz of romance around the world led me to remember the day where my love for Kristen began. Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day, everyone.

Winter Battle Pass: Our Lunar New Year Present

For those who are new to the blog, or do not otherwise know, Kris and I are pretty much nuts for the computer game that is Dota 2. Whilst some of our colleagues and Ultimate friends have been doing things as extravagant as going skiing and visiting other countries, we have spent the majority of our holiday in our apartment fervently playing as many games of Dota 2 as possible. A large reason for this is a recent piece of content that was released for the game: the Winter Battle Pass.

As is evident from the name, the Winter Battle Pass is a temporary addition to the game, lasting only for the season of winter. There have been similar content to the Battle Pass that have been released for the past few seasons, but none have been as well-received by the community.

Essentially, the Winter Battle Pass costs $8, and gives the player access to content that is unique to holders of the pass. Unlike other games that hold significant content behind a paywall, the Winter Battle Pass does not in any way affect a player’s chances to win the game by altering stats or adding new playable characters or the like. All of the heroes in Dota are available to every player, and the only thing differentiating a person who is just learning the game and someone who has played for years is the knowledge and skills that the player picks up by playing. So, what does the Winter Battle Pass offer to the players of the otherwise free-to-play game in return for their money? Hats. Sweet, sweet hats.

Sometimes bears just want to be cowboys (this set was eventually removed from the store for violating the core aesthetic of the hero)

Whilst no amount of money can give you an in-game advantage, it can buy you cosmetic items to make your hero look cooler, prettier, or of a different style. The Winter Battle Pass allows players to complete in-game quests in the attempt to gain levels and, thereby, hats. Previous incarnations of the Battle Pass idea have been far less well-received, as they were a little more money-grabby and a little less sensitive to what the community wanted. The hats-to-money ratio was out of whack. But the current Battle Pass has struck the right balance between keeping Valve’s investors happy and the community playing as many games as possible in order to complete their challenges.

The pass has been so successful that the average number of players at any one time has risen over 2.5% since the Pass came out. At the peak time in the last month, there have been more than 1.1 million people playing Dota at one time, almost equalling the record numbers for the game from last year in March. Whilst this may not be anywhere near the numbers flaunted by Dota’s main competitor, League of Legends, the growth is encouraging.

So, Kris and I have been holed up in our little apartment, playing game after game in our hunt for pretty hats. I have raged a little, leading to a small domestic dispute, but I have promised to be better. We stopped. Then we started again. Because hats.

Brisk Disk on Busan’s Beach

My body is aching. Kristen has trouble walking on one of her calves. Our weekend passed by in a blur of sand, disks, and a couple of drinks at The Wolfhound. The culprit? Our first Ultimate event of the new year – the small-in-size-yet-large-in-fun Angel Hat tournament.

When we signed up for the tournament in the first few weeks of winter, we were afraid that it would be plagued by cold so severe that our muscles would seize up. Or worse, fall off of our bodies, frostbitten. Upon our arrival in Busan, our fears proved to be founded on a grain of truth. It was freezing. But we were still incredibly excited to play Ultimate again. For myself, it had been many months since I had stepped onto an actual Ultimate field and thrown the disk towards an end zone. Kris had gone to some training in Daejon in January, but I was too lazy. This laziness came back to bite me over the weekend, as I saw how unfit I had become through months of sloth and good eating.

The eighteen or so people who participated all had a wonderful time. The majority of the games were played 4v4 or 5v5 on small fields. It was a good way to practice our short game and ruin several socks by running in them on the sand. After the first day’s play, my team, Iris, emerged undefeated, defeating all of the other three teams in the competition.

Some say we were stacked with skilled players. No inquests were launched into the truth of this, however.

Following the day’s play, we spread out and searched for our lodgings. We freshened up and headed to The Wolfhound, a favourite haunt for Ultimate players in Busan. We ate nachos, drank beer (and South African wine to Kris’ extreme joy and eventual detriment), and were rather merry. At one point, one of our number disappeared. We found him later, but he didn’t quite make it back to our accommodation.

The next morning, play was distinctly more sober than the majority of us had been the previous evening. What would have been a layout on the first day was a ‘yeah, no, that can just hit the ground’ on the second day. When the tournament was all said and done, myself and the rest of Iris emerged as the only undefeated team.

However, the goal of Angel Hat was not victory, but pure, unbridled fun playing the game that we love. In this respect, everyone who participated was a winner. Each team had at least one player who had played little or no Ultimate beforehand (except for Iris. We weren’t stacked, we swear!). The game is always growing, always pulling more in. It may be a cult, but it’s a fun one.

When we rode the two subways, KTX, and bus home, we slept and smiled at the merriment we had enjoyed. With the practice of playing on the beach, we will be more than ready for the next season of ROK-U and all of the other exciting tournaments coming up. Here’s to another year of Ultimate!

Farewell, Sweet Kichu

Last night, Kris and I dropped off one of our cats, Kichu, at what we hope will be his forever home. It was a difficult time for both of us. Kris was teary about it at multiple points during the week, and even though Kichu disrupted my sleep more times than I can count, I am also deeply saddened at the loss of his presence in our household. However, it was the best decision for his future, and, when cats are concerned, we certainly put their needs above our own.

The process of finding Kichu’s new mother, chatting to her, and arranging to drop him off at her house was remarkably quick. We were first put into contact with her on Tuesday. We initially arranged to drop of Kichu on Wednesday, but that fell through, leading us to drop him off yesterday (Thursday) instead. It has been an emotional few days.

Kichu is a very charismatic, loud, and curious cat. He has been our cuddle buddy, alarm clock, welcoming committee, hot water bottle, gaming companion, and so much more in the short time that we have been lucky enough to have him. He did frequently annoy me by fighting with our other foster cat, Catsby, and by meowing late at night and early in the morning. Kris did not notice the meowing as much, as she sleeps like a rock, but I was at my wit’s end with Kichu on many occasions. Nevertheless, I always loved him, and he was a core part of our home.

Getting him to Itaewon in Seoul, where his new mother lives, was an ordeal, but not quite as onerous as I was expecting. Kichu does not like to travel. He came to us drugged up on sedatives, meowing his head off, with his eyes rolling in his head from fighting off the drugs. We were worried that moving him would be a similar experience. Luckily, it was not. We chose not to sedate him, and simply drive in a taxi with an understanding taxi driver. The choice not to drug him proved worthwhile, as he was relatively calm. He meowed the entire way, but his tone was nowhere near as panicked as it was on his first night with us. We were glad that he was more settled.

When we arrived at his new home, he was initially very wary. He did not leave his carrying box for a couple of minutes. Thankfully, his curiosity soon outweighed his fear, and he began clambering all over his new home, mewing his opinions on the decor. We spent what felt like an all-too-short amount of time allowing him to settle in while we met his new mother. She seems lovely, and we believe that she will give Kichu all of the love that he needs. She also works from her home, so she will be able to spend more hours per day on Kichu than we were. Overall, we are happy that he is going to a place where he will be loved.

Then, the time came to say goodbye and catch the two buses back to Dongtan. We cuddled him, shed a tear or two, and walked out the door. Kris broke down a little on the roof outside Kichu’s new home, but she quickly gathered herself. I admire her for her strength.

The house is very different without Kichu. It is quieter, but less full of life and action. We didn’t receive a welcoming meow, or a wake-up call. It was almost eerie this morning. We will need to adjust to his absence. However, his new mom has said that we are welcome to pop in and say hi whenever we like, and we will most likely take her up on it. Kichu may be out of our home, but he is probably not out of our life. And, more importantly, he is now brightening someone else’s life – someone who will be able to provide him the stable him that we might not be able to for a while. Kichu will be happy. And, because of it, so will we.