We all know traveling can be quite fabulous.
New places, amazing experiences, shopping, delicious food, laying on the beach getting tan…It’s whatever you wanna make out of it.
But sometimes, or basically every time, things don’t go the way that you’ve originally planned in your little head.  
Sometimes traveling means insomnia, shady new neighborhoods, cat sized rats running next to you in a restaurant, finding cockroaches in your suitcase, almost pooping your pants cos your uterus wants to kill you, having your wallet stolen, missing a train, and other fantastic stuff.

Sometimes it’s a good thing that crazy stuff happens.
It’s how 
you get to experience the place you’re visiting in totally unexpected ways as it throws you into a new adventure and it opens up your eyes.
…Then there are times when you don’t know whether you should laugh or cry.
Always try to laugh though. Unless you’re in some deep shit.
But this series of posts focuses mainly on small setbacks, so if you’re looking to get answers on how to get away with murder while traveling, this is not the right forum.

The first story I’m gonna share with you guys is one of my favorites.
It’s about that time when I got stitches on my foot for partying too hard in Shanghai.
Let’s begin the story…

Back in 2011 me and 100 other girls were doing our exchange studies in Shanghai.
We didn’t study a lot, but we learned a good deal about life. The best lessons were the ones we got to experience out in the wild.
One of these experiences was when we went out to party for the FIRST time in China.

Everything was wonderful.
We all had new shoes, new dresses, new purses…We were fabulous.

The bar was a fun little European-style spot underground – with lots of stairs. I remember thinking those stairs would be a problem once we’re hammered.
But as I downed my first drink I didn’t even remember those stupid stairs anymore.

We headed to the dance floor and after a little ass shaking we saw a podium
and hopped on it to showcase our amazing moves.
The stage started to get a little too crowded so I decided to gracefully jump back on the dancefloor. As I landed on the ground, I knew I had made a huge mistake.
My leap of faith ended in tears. I had jumped directly on a huge broken pint. And it had now smoothly pierced the side of my foot.
That’s when the chaos started.
Somehow I managed to run in the women’s bathroom, leaving a bloody trace behind me.
I sat down and started crying.
A few girls walked by and screamed “EWWWW THAT’S HORRIBLE” and held their noses.

My friends tried to comfort me as I was hyperventilating.
Despite all the drinking, they still had their brain in their beautiful heads, 
because they stopped me from putting hand sanitizer on the wound (Sometimes i think how come I am still alive).  
The girls wrapped up my foot in toilet paper and it looked like the most disgusting Christmas present ever.  They also successfully lied to me that the wound had magically stopped bleeding to stop me from crying.   

The next problem was a thinker.
Remember I told you the bar was underground? No elevator, no escalator – just hellish stairs. How the hell would I get out of the bar? BOY WERE WE IN A PICKLE.
I weighed a little over 5000 pounds at the time and I didn’t want anyone to experience the burden of carrying me out.
So naturally I tried to convince everyone that I could jump the stairs up with one leg.

Well….someone found the bar’s bouncer and he offered to carry me up. He kinda had the muscles for it. But as he was the bouncer of a chinese nightclub, he was more used to carrying the petite chinese princesses to places, -instead of western sea monsters.
He did carry me though.
It was pure horror.
He was suffering SO MUCH and I was in pain too. Not because of my foot at that point, no, I had forgotten all about it cos I was mortified.
I felt like I was one of those weights that muscle-men try to lift on the “world’s strongest man” competitions. Boy was he sweaty afterwards.
That’s the only time I DIDN’T enjoy making a man sweat. If ya get the jist.
But we made it all the way up to the street.

During the “Blood, Sweat and Tears on the staircase”-episode, my friends realized that we need a translator with us to the emergency room. Luckily my friends were little FBI-agents already back then and they managed to find an english speaking Chinese dude to join us on our adventure. I think his english name was Tony?

Well anyway.
My bleeding foot, me and two others went ahead by taxi. Tony told the driver where to take us.
The others then just blindly followed Tony to his car. Thank goodness this wasn’t one of those stranger danger scenarios and the guy actually wanted to help us.  

The emergency room was to the word, amazing.
Loud noises, chaos, blood, death, chickens…Well not chickens, but almost.
Nobody spoke any English, which was totally fine because we had a translator and because we already knew some chinese. We knew how to say “I’m not a teacher”.  So…there you have it.
Our translator was too busy flirting with my friends though…so he didn’t really pay too much attention on updating me about my foot situation. “Yeah yeah they will now do the X-ray” he said nonchalantly as he tried to grab my friend’s butt. Great.

The other patients around me were in much worse shape than I was.
One had his face covered in blood, one had apparently lost a few fingers, a few people had a cough that sounded like death, and somewhere in the distance someone was just making very disturbing crying/moaning noises.  But because I was a privileged western chick who looked like a panda, I got fast treatment.

This is the part where my memory fails me a little, because the next thing I remember is that I’m laying on the hospital bed, being sewn up.
I’m looking around and I see a man on the doorway, staring straight at me, eating noodles.
Dinner and a show. This was just perfect.
One of my friends then furiously shushed him away.

I was so lucky all my friends were in the “operation room” with me.  
I also remember I felt how every single stitch pierced my skin. Twelve new little piercings. And it looked absolutely disgusting.
And get this: We sang disney songs  in a circle and held our hands (?????), while the doctor was stitching the wound.
I have no words.

Oh well…..The night ended on the best possible note: 
the doctor laughing and saying that I should forget about visiting the Great Wall because the foot would be damaged for a long time. “You won’t be able to run in 6 months”
Like I would run anyway. 


But…the doctor was wrong. HA!

The following week I consulted another doc about my situation.
First I tried to find a Finnish doctor in Shanghai – because I was stupid.
But instead I found an English speaking doctor straight from Singapore. He just happened to work in Shanghai.
He was cool and comforting. He took a look at the X-rays and was like “Yeah this is nothing”.  Lol ok?

I had to use crutches for two and a half weeks. But because I couldn’t figure out how use them (Don’t ask) I just stayed in my room for that time pretending I was dying.
I even almost booked a flight home. Haahahhaah.
Thank goodness I didn’t. Because after my foot cooperated with me again, China started showing its good bits to me.  And now I’m actually happy that I have this story to tell.  

Blegh. I hope you enjoyed my story!
I bet some of you have stories 100 times better than mine and I would like to hear them!
So PLEASE share your stories on the comment section below or give me a link to your own blog!

xoxo, gossip girl



One thought on “STORYTIME pt1: PAIN & HORROR in SHANGHAI

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