A life lost in translation
CHINA | Saturday, 3 May 2008 | Views [242] | Comments [1]
Stories that are hard to tell are ubiquitous when traveling. Even the most gifted linguists have a hard time describing the mass of the Chinese people, the wonder of Notre Dame, or the magic of Moroccan mint tea. But this story in particular, will not come out right.
The theme of my life in China has definitely been laced with couch surfing high notes. There's not much left I can say in the good category of this organization. But I'm sure there are many good people left to meet.
However, I can now cross off one amazing New Zealander from the list. Hagen was meant to stay with me for two days. He messaged me about a month ago looking for a crib in BJ. I was coming off a month solid of couch surfers and knew I needed a break. I made a deal with myself that I would say yes to him and not host anyone until he arrived.
His rocky arrival was Sunday. I sent directions that were...lengthy, explicit, and fairly simple. Somehow he botched them. I spend a few minutes searching out where he might have ended up, silently cursing his inability to follow detailed instructions.
But after that, everything was peachy. We got along famously and immediately. We spent Sunday afternoon walking around Tian'An Men and some hutongs. Monday, we toured the Summer Palace. Tuesday, he missed the bus to the Great Wall. It was not even a question that he would be staying with me another night. We were already making plans to travel when my vacation started on Thursday. We went to dinner with other surfers who were visiting Beijing. They were completely lame and ridiculously intolerable. I've never cut eyes at anyone the way that Hagen and I persistently wished to each other that we could leave faster.
Wednesday, after he made it to the Great Wall, we met some of my friends for dinner and drinks in San Li Tun, and, then, we stayed up all night listening to music and talking about nothing in particular. We were catching a standing room only train to Sha Cheng the next day.
I would like to say that our Thursday train ride was a once in a lifetime experience, but it's happened to me before. And I'm sure I'll brave the trains during a holiday again. It was ridiculous. We stood in the hallway the entire time. It was hot, people were smoking everywhere, and Chinese have very little space concern (one guy was actually leaning on Hagen listening to us talk to one another).
It was interesting in a way that's only awesome after the fact. I had my first real conversation in Chinese. As Hagen can only say "Piao piao" while making the sign for eight translating to "eight tickets" in Chinese (which he readily admits isn't that useful), it was all up to me. The people around the girls I was talking to were asking them (in Chinese), "You speak English?!" "No, no, she's speaking Chinese with us." I was beaming (mostly from the sweat but also because of my swelling pride).
Sha Cheng was nice, but small and dirty. We checked into a hotel where we met a girl who teaches English in a town near Beijing. She and her boyfriend were visiting so she could ride a horse and see the desert. Hagen smiled at her at some point, she decided he must be friendly, and "Excuse me? Can I help you with this?" led to dinner and a fun night with Chinese tourists.
The next day, we went to our intended destination, Jimingyi. It's a walled city with only about 1,000 people all oozing character, no restaurants or hotels, and a Y30 entrance fee. It was amazing. We mosied around all day just looking at things, taking photos, and trying to speak to locals. We ate a the home of some people because we were getting hungry and Hagen thought it was a restaurant. When we realized it wasn't, I asked, "Zhi bu zhi dao zai nar chi fan ma?" Which loosely translates to "Do you know where we can eat food?" She said, "Here!" And fed us eggplant and fried rice of the most delicious variety.
We decided not to risk another train ride hazardous to our nostrils and patience, and paid almost five times as much to ride a bus home. Another night with friends followed. Another night without sleep followed that. He left this morning at five am on his way to Mongolia.
The week...was amazing. My future couch surfers have a lot to live up to. But I can't expect that to happen every time, if anyone can even tell what happened from reading this. I'm not sure I know what happened either. It's like when I watch a Sophia Coppola movie. Once it's over, the thought, "What the hell happened in that movie?" often crosses my mind. But that doesn't detract from the amazing beauty of what just passed before my eyes.
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