So, it turns out I've kind of been in this country illegally. When I went to extend my visa, they noticed that I had neglected to register with the local police station after my visit home at Christmas. Which, yeah, was about six months ago. In my defense, no one even so much as hinted to me that this might be necessary. Indeed, a casual poll of the professors and administrators in my office has revealed mass ignorance of this apparently critical national law.
As I write this, a plump woman bureaucrat is sitting in her air conditioned glass office thinking up a suitable punishment for me. I'm looking forward to hearing the results of her musings. Will I get to experience the inside of a Chinese prison? Enjoy a few days of forced manual labor? Or, more likely, will they try to squeeze every last penny out of this poor American in the form of an unreasonably large fine?
In the spirit of my new status as an international criminal, last night I snuck into a scenic park after hours, by scaling a 15 foot high stone wall and scrambling over a tall, extremely rusty metal fence. (Not a chain link fence, by the way. That would be too easy. Hopping this fence required the assistance of a nearby pine tree and a leg up from my partner in crime.) We braved giant screaming crickets, feral cats, and low flying bats to hack our way to the top of the mountain, where we enjoyed Jinan's nightscape ("hey look! you can't see the pollution!") before quietly slipping out a side gate.
At least now I have some practice if it turns out I need to spend my remaining three months here on the lam.
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