of my eight and a half hour long train ride from Dali to Kunming, watching terraced gardens and mud walled houses, feeling completely content with my decision to stay up all night in order to sleep the whole train ride, I started to hallucinate.
I wasn't seeing aliens instead of beautiful scenery. I wasn't witnessing miracles where there were none.
I was hearing English. Not just any English, but British English. From the Chinese couple sitting across from me. They were most decidedly NOT speaking any form of English, much less English with a British accent. But I heard this:
Man: "So I read an article..."
Woman: "I think it's time to redo the kitchen."
Man: "Did she bet him money?"
Wow. They were probably speaking some dialect of Chinese. Some dialect that isn't formal and doesn't have a written component. But for some reason, I understood it. And pieced together that asinine conversation.
Maybe I should have stayed asleep.
