If there's one thing I've learned from
finishing and
starting over and
moving and
making friends and
breaking ties and
living on four continents and
one tropical island,
it is that
there are no such things
as endings.
Index
The train is definitely the way to travel in China. While not always the most comfortable, you see so much more of the country by slipping slowly across the surface than skiping quickly over it in a plane. When you take the train across endless plains, over wide rivers, through many small cities laid out along the tracks, you can say that you’ve actually been in each of those places. You begin to get a feel for the size of the country and the way the people live there.
Besides, the alternative is not as attractive as you might think.
CAAC is the official airline of Mainland China. I don’t even remember what CAAC stands for, I only remember the jokes: China Airlines Almost (or Always, take your pick) Crashes. I’ve heard that the charts that show emergency evacuation proceedures placed behind each seat contain stories of courageous airline personnel who refused to give in to terrorists and hijackers and saved their planes from being taken to Taiwan or other countries. You may want to bring along other reading until you safely reach the ground.
There is no record of any attempts to hijack a train to Taiwan.
It's impolite in China to accept a gift the first time it's offered to you. Or the second. The person offering may simply be acting polite. After the third offer, you may accept.
I've seen these three offers happen with cigarettes in less that a second and a half--the package is held out, shoved back and forth three times, then the cancer is accepted.
When Matthew and I rode the train together from Guangzhou to Beijing, one of our new friends offered us a swig of his bai zhou--white alcohol, maybe vodkaXXX. Having suffered with his breath for too long already, we knew better and declined.
At the next stop, we stepped off the train and bought some stale crackers. Hoping they would function as breath mints, Matthew offered some to our friend, who politely refused with his rancid breath. "Take some!!" Matthew half laughed, half shouted it. Sometimes you find more important things than etiquette.
Chinese don't take complements well. Not by American standards. Instead of saying "thank you," the say "nali, nali," which means "where? where?" implying that the complement belongs somewhere else.
"Where you from?"
"Utah. Do you know where that is?"
"Yes, yes! America! Mormons!"
"Right, right."
"Why you in China?"
"To travel, study Chinese, and hopefully earn some money."
"Ahhh. You speak Chinese?"
"Bu tai hui."
"Ahh, bu tsuo, bu tsuo! Very good, very good!"
"Where? Where?"
"Ha ha. You make joke! You student?"
"Yeah, I study at Utah State University."
"What you study?"
"Liberal arts and languages."
"Li...li..art?"
"Yeah, don't stress, I couldn't explain, anyway."
"Oh. What your fahzer do?"
"He has an electronics business. High tech stuff."
"He...business..."
"Yeah. What do you do?"
With slight variations, this conversation repeats itself eight to fifteen times on one 33 hour train ride from Guangzhou to Beijing.
"Nice talk to you!"
"Yeah! You're English is pneumatic!"
"Ah, no, no! Sank you, sank you."
Hard sleepers are the way to go in China. Soft seats and sleepers are about five times as expensive, and the hard seats are incredibly uncomfortable. The padding on hard seats is thin, the backs straight up, the small tables between facing seats only allow two people per side to lean on them, and the cars get far too crowded for any comfort at all.
Don't leave your cameras and walkmans on the tables when you come into a station--they can easily be snatched from the outside, and you'll never see them again.
Hard sleepers are soft enough to sleep on and wake with no bruises. They are stacked three high. The top ones offer some degree of seclusion when you don't feel like talking, but the speakers set in the ceiling come on early and are always much too loud. Despite no-smoking regulations, the top area usually fills with smoke.
A walkman is an essential item for long train rides. Music makes the time pass more quickly, lets you forget the hard seat when you don't get a sleeper, and protects you from redundant conversation. If you can't hear someone, they can't ask where you're from.
Even when the batteries die, you can pretend.
carelessness bordering on recklessness. the kind that inspires courage in some people and anxiety in (m)others.
another one of those brave people. explore underground city. meet with China Manufacturing Company. no fear. one day took the bus as far out of town as we could looking for horses to rent, got bikes instead. rode till a soldier told us we couldn't be there.
then he hooked up with Rosella. and less time with me.
If you have ever gone on a vacation to an exotic place, you know how good it feels to look around at all there is to explore, to discover. You know the thrill of looking for the first time at the city from your hotel window, of turning a corner on the street and finding something you had never seen before, never even dreamed of. You know the tickle of a foreign language in your ears. You know the pleasant sensation of fullness brought on by expanding the infinite universe of experience growing inside your heart and mind.
If you have ever been on a long vacation, you also know how good it feels to come home. You know the relief of familiar carpet beneath your feet, letters in your mailbox, messages on the machine, your clothes packed in closets and not in suitcases. You know the pleasure of walking barefoot across your own lawn. You know the pleasant comfort of the known, the familiar, and the secure.
Arriving in Beijing was all of this.
I sat on a low cement wall next to the administration building and waited for Matthew to pay his tuition and return. With my eyes closed, I felt like I could have been back home in Logan, Utah. The afternoon was quiet. None of the non-stop sound of Taiwan traffic penetrated the walls of the institute.
Even the smells were familiar here. Huge oak trees lined the narrow lane at my feet, and the sun danced lightly through the shadows cast across my face by thier leaves. Best of all, the air was dry and cool, the first breath of autumn in my face. I had no trouble imagining tall mountains and deep canyons streching out around me, promising stunning views and cool, shaded retreats.
I breathed deeply and relaxed. It seemed strange that I had felt so much at home on a muggy tropical island for so many months. I had adapted to the heat, the humidity, the snarled traffic, the dirt and garbage because I had no choice. I had made the most of time in Taiwan and was glad, but Beijing had freed me from all that.
Voices came near and I recognized a few words as Italian. I opened my eyes and watched two slender, dark haired girls stroll past. Again I was glad to know that Matthew would be sure to know of few of them. This week would be full of adventure and relaxation.
I breathed deep again, listened to the soft swishing of leaves above me, and wished I could stay longer. But at this moment, life felt full. I felt no anxiety, no hurry, no rush to enjoy it, to fill myself up. I would make the most of this week. But for now, I would simply make the most of this moment, this first breath of autumn.
I looked up the lane and watched another group of five students walk toward me. One guy with a short beard talked and laughed and everyone seemed to listen gladly to whatever story he was telling, but the one that caught my eye was the girl with short red hair who skipped along, spinning around, looking up into the sky, smiling.
She looked happy and energetic and alive, I liked her already. I wanted to know her and be near her and learn from her. I wanted to talk with her and be her friend, and once the time came when I had to leave, maybe I could take a piece of her with me, and I would learn to skip and dance and smile like her more often.
My second day in the capital, I went to see some of the more famous sights in the area. My third night, we went to a party at the Australian Embassy. When the weekend arrived, we hopped on a school-sponsored bus and headed for the Great Wall. At the Wall, fourteen of us hoisted our packs to our backs and informed the bus driver that we'd find our own way home.
By the time the late afternoon sun turned to gold and dropped behind the mountains to the west, our group had split in two, and Matthew, Rosella, and I climbed down the outside of the Wall in search of twigs and branches to build a fire.
Night fell and found the three of us huddled close together in a guard tower, roasting large golden apples over a tiny fire glowing from a hole in the wall. When we ran out of fuel and the flames died down, we laid out our blankets and sleeping bags along one side of the tower, letting the apples' warm, sweet juices run over our lips as we bit into the soft fruit, alternately eating and sharing our favorite ghost stories.
What a life! All the time in the world belonged to us. With weeks to go before my flight left Hong Kong for home and plenty of money left from teaching in Taiwan, I could do anything I wanted, and answer to no one for whatever choices I made. It seemed years since I had found any significant number of friends who liked to run things in the same casual, adventurous way, and had the time and courage to actually follow through with such plans. The only negative thought that might have entered my mind as a cool wind blew through the tower all night long was that the week I had allotted to stay in Beijing had nearly passed.
We awoke late the following morning, opening our eyes reluctantly and turning to watch the sunlight crawl in through the windows and slide slowly across the stone floor. After a breakfast of hard bread and cool water, we again loaded our packs and continued along the Wall to the East. A few miles further on lay a station where we would catch a train home to Beijing.
At the station, we worked together to interpret the train schedule, and found that the next train to Beijing would come by in six hours. We set our things down on the concrete platform and waited by a small fountain until the clouds rolled in and the rain started to fall.
Sprawled along wooden benches inside the station, each of us lay silently, lost in our own thoughts and listening to the cadence that the heavy rain hammered on the tile roof over our heads. A short, stooped man wearing a traditional blue Mao suit would occasionally poke his head in through the door and peer at us, but we had grown accustomed to such curious attention and simply ignored him. Matthew finally broke the demi-silence.
"Shaun. You've gotta stay in Beijing and study with us."
It wasn't the first time he had said it. I had heard the request at least ten times over the course of the week. My usual response was to answer that I couldn't. After all, I had school waiting for me, my girlfriend, and a few other commitments I had already made.
But this time was different. The weekend trip had been a catalyst, and I couldn't resist the lifestyle and adventure that so appealed to me in this mysterious Never-Never Land. We were silent for a minute or two before I said what I had been thinking all along.
"Ya know? I want to!"
Within two hours of returning home, all variables had been carefully weighed, decisions finalized, plane reservations altered, and letters written. The following day, I became a matriculated student at the Beijing Language Institute and began a four month quarter that would change my life forever.
Not that I had any idea of how it would change me. Not that I can be quite sure even now. Still, I continue to wonder what might or might not have been.
This is a piece of the only man-made structure you can see from space. I collected a few pebbles from the old part of the Great Wall to bring home as gifts for family and friends. Also 10 Yuan. w/pictures of one of the many nationalities in China.
Katie wasn't thrilled to hear of my decision to stay in China for another quarter. She found out before my express letter reached her, when she called my family to ask if she could come and decorate my room.
"Oh, haven't you heard?" asked my sister Nicole. "He's not coming home until Christmas."
What I got was a Halloween card with a six-foot-tall hot dog trick or treating on a doorstep. Inside, it said Happy Hello, Weenie. It was Katie's way of both joking and communicating her feelings about me at the moment.
another long train ride to Canton and Hong Kong. going back to get my stuff.
about getting run over. happened in china, too. one of many things that catch your attention, make it impossible to ignore that you're in a new place, that the dotted line on the map is more that just artificial, political, that people aren't quite the same everywhere you go.
met people on the train, then ran into them at airport. slept there. Hard floors, cold. Japanese seemed prepared--big camping expedition.