I went to the train station this morning and purchased two tickets. One would take me from Dali to Kunming and the other would take me from Kunming to Chengdu. I am very proud of the fact that this complicated transaction was conducted mostly in Chinese and I didn’t hold up the line for very long. Okay, I admit that the ticketing agent had a knowledge of English that was helpful, but it was mostly me. The Chinese in line behind me had a few laughs at my expense, but how am I supposed to learn if I don’t use it? As proud as I was of my accomplishment, I was also felt a bit sad. I will be leaving tomorrow. Leaving my friends and my comfortable room with the incredible view.
My anxiety about leaving manifested itself in obsessing over food. I even had a dream early this morning where I was purchasing gasoline at a filling station and as I opened my pack for my wallet, this old beggar man stole the peanut butter cups out of it. I can’t remember the last time I had peanut butter cups, but I can remember how incensed I was in my dream as I fought like crazy to get them back. While I was distracted, a boy stole the wallet out of my bag. That says something about my priorities, doesn’t it. With the time I waste in obsessing over food, I could have probably learned an additional three languages. It’s my cross, and I try to bear it without making anyone else miserable. Sometimes I fail.
May 4th is National Student Day in honor of the protests that took place after WWI when the victorious Allies granted the Shandong province to the Japanese. This evening the students at the local university were putting on a production of Chinese music and dance, and one of the participants was a young woman whom I had met at my guesthouse. Eight of us went, and we all tried to catch a bus up to the campus, but the routes were messed up because of the festival. It wasn’t a long walk to the university, but it was all uphill, and we didn’t want to arrive all fatigued and sweaty. We finally found a cab that could fit all eight of us in it, but on the big hill approaching the university the little economy van sputtered and stalled. Three westerners got out, myself included, and still the minivan stalled. A fourth westerner got out and he even had to give the darn thing a push before it went speeding up the hill with three Asian women and an Israeli in it. When we met them in front of the school the cab driver was already on the phone having a laugh over it with his chums.
We were late, but there was no reason to rush. They spent about 30 minutes handing out various awards to students and making short speeches. The Brit sitting next to me cracked me up with his mock “translations”. “And now he’s saying, ‘Death to all the American imperialists’. People continued to file in during this presentation and the auditorium was growing warmer with the additional body heat. The actual performance started and I liked most of the numbers. A few of them could have stood a bit more rehearsal, but I’ve heard about the demands on Chinese students. So I can’t be too critical. The young woman from the guesthouse performed and feeling his obligation had been met, the Brit said, “Cheerio,” and made for the exit. I was a bit sorry to see him go. He amused me. I caught the next two numbers and then made my exit. The cool evening air refreshed me after sitting in a poorly-ventilated auditorium with a few hundred strangers. Before I walked back down the hill, I turned around and took a good look at the campus of Dali University. It was beautiful with the mountains in the background. I hope that someday I can come back and teach English here. All I need is just a year or two of teaching experience, and then I can return to Dali.
