The Undiscovered Country

10/22/08

LianYunGang Airport

Bound for travel yet again. I took up an enticing offer to hit the road. The whole journey was arranged by the office of foreign affairs at the HuaiHai Institute. For a mere 700 RMB I could join in the fun. On tap for this trip: a visit to Putuo Mountain (one of four holy Buddhist mtns in China) and a trip to HangZhou as well. I never would’ve had the conviction to visit these places on my own; I’m convinced that much is true.

As usual, though, I accepted the invite without hesitation knowing full well that all the details had been sorted out already. This trip was difficult to turn down, considering the circumstances. We had a four-day weekend due to some sports events on campus. The university cancelled classes on Thursday and Friday of that week to allow students to fully participate in the sports competitions. As a matter of fact, I was invited to participate in the competitions as well.

The foreign languages department came to me for help in bolstering their (apparently) lackluster hopes in winning any of the events. They asked for my assistance with the 100-meter relay. I was flattered by their offer, so I accepted. But the offer for the trip was soon to follow the sports recruitment, so I reneged on my verbal commitment to the school and left town instead. In the aftermath of double-booking myself and subsequently abandoning the school, I did feel a little twinge of guilt.

For whatever reason, I had allowed the flattering offer from the athletically beleaguered foreign lang. department to boost my ego. I actually started to believe that I could deliver victory for our team. Probably an illusion, I’m sure. But I had been spending some time running on the school’s track lately; and based on what I saw, there weren’t many top-tier runners around. So as part of the illusion and my over-inflated ego, I had this vision in my head of me and my teammates hoisting the 1^st place trophy over our heads. Then we would go out on the town to celebrate (which I probably would’ve done regardless of the outcome).

But as it turns out, the opportunity to assert dominance on the track had passed. Perhaps it was for the best. The unrealized dream of victory is a much more satisfying state-of-mind than the crushing disappointment found in actual defeat. In a rational analysis of my chances to deliver victory, the chances were slim. So I’ll be content to hold on to the pleasant illusion instead.

The Road Warrior

10/16/08

I’ve been invited to join a biker gang. The gang, which uses the handle of “The Wolverines,” consists of the younger ex-pat teachers here in LianYunGang. I should be clear in stating that there are no actual motorcycles in this gang; in fact the most powerful bike in the gang would be an electronic scooter. But since I bought a bicycle earlier this week, I’m now eligible to ride with the big boys. Besides, I can always use a playing card on the rear spokes to make it sound like I’m tearing up the asphalt on a motorcycle.

Speaking of hopeless attempts at being cool, I felt particularly awesome last night. Not only because I was in the company of a particularly gorgeous Chinese lady (who wants to be my friend merely because I speak English; can you believe it? I don’t have to be charming or funny, I can just open my mouth and I’m guaranteed to have the company of beautiful women); mostly I felt awesome because I gave her a lift on the bicycle in hilarious fashion. My bicycle, like most here in China, is equipped with a carrying rack that sits over the rear wheel. This is convenient for carrying things like books or packages, but also for carrying lightweight people. Back home I never had a bike with one of these rear carrier racks, so I never explored the charming possibilities of taxiing girls and other friends on the back while I pedaled.

So there I was, pedaling my bike while transporting a very attractive cargo and I was just waiting for the opening verses of “Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head,” ala Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid. But instead I settled for the very satisfying mental image of the whole scene. It was truly one of those situations where you wish a camera was handy. Oh well, but that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turning red. Because I’m free, nothing’s worrying me…

Beijing

10/4/08

Notes from Beijing

1) If you’re looking at the prospect of a 13 hour train ride, always be dubious of the ticket that cost a mere 100 RMB. For that price, the journey is guaranteed to be an uncomfortable ordeal. Think about it: a ticket that was purchased for 100 Chinese RMB amounts to 14 USD. If you break down that price over a timetable, you’re looking at roughly $1/hr in traveling fees. Very economic, no doubt about that. But that $14 will only secure you a hard seat in an over-crowded, over-booked trunk carriage. Good luck getting comfortable, or keeping your sanity for that matter. In the end, it’s best to throw down the extra 100 RMB to purchase the sleeper carriage.

2) After the obligatory visit to the Great Wall, Colm and I set out for the obligatory taste of Beijing roast duck. Our circuitous search for an ideal restaurant didn’t want for results; nearly every corner in Beijing has a roast duck restaurant. However, we were being somewhat particular in our search. We ignored the places that looked incredibly upscale, and we also avoided joints that had a queue out the door. Eventually our time and budget constraints forced us to concede defeat—for that night anyhow—and settle on a small restaurant that didn’t have roast duck on the menu.

At dinner, I couldn’t help but remark to Colm that the Great Wall hike was still surreal in my mind. Eventually the reality would set in, given the hefty amount of photo evidence and the physical toll of the 10K hike. But at that moment in the restaurant, I was more consumed by my hunger and a pressing need to visit sights that remained unseen. It was as if I couldn’t even take a breath and realize, “Hey wow, I just walked for 10 kilometers on a man-made object that’s visible from the moon.” I was more or less frustrated with my inability to live in the present. The only immediate thought that I was able to truly comprehend was the glib realization that our vegetables were slightly overcooked.

3) Beijing exists as a city of contrasts. It is simultaneously a clean city and a filthy city. At once it is awe-inspiring and under-whelming; celebrated yet disdained; enthralling but terribly frustrating. These contradictions are bound to exist in any large city. For every Yin there is the inevitable Yang. Of course this fits well with the Chinese principle of symmetry; but beyond that Beijing seems to follow the blueprint for all large cities. From the center point the city expands outward in concentric circles. At every point along that circle, there exists a counterpoint within the city’s walls. Maybe across the invisible radius of that circle, maybe one meter to the east or west.

The city is home to many things, but it is impossible to live there. Beijing is one moment the city of your dreams, but then it is also the place of nightmares.