With Turtleface Joe and the Boys on the Beijing/Lhasa Local

I'm sitting by the window on the train to Tibet watching it get light. When the lights went out at 10pm last night we were climbing through the mountains but it was still 80 degrees outside. Now everything is white. The ground is blanketed in snow that looks like it extends into the sky. I’m starting to think a winter coat might have been a good idea after all. At least my backpack will be light since I’ll be wearing everything I brought.

Everything on this trip has so far exceeded my expectations, but this train ride takes the cake.  Not only have we gotten to see a huge part of China, but the experiences and people have just been amazing. We couldn’t all get beds together, so Dee and Keesler are down in a soft sleeper cabin in car 6, and Kim, Cici and I are in hard sleepers in car 13. The difference between the classes is pretty remarkable, but I must admit I LOVE where I am. Kim and Ceci are in one cabin and I am next door with roommates that are clearly 5 members of the Chinese mob. 

We got on the train at 9:30 Friday night, May 28^th, in Beijing. When we realized that the three of us weren’t going to be in the same cabin we made a brief attempt at trying to trade beds.  No one speaks English except for a few Koreans, who are the only other foreigners on the train, but we didn’t meet any of them till the next morning, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.  We learned one word of Chinese, Sange, but one word does not a successful conversation make.  “Sange” said the man, holding up three fingers than spinning one in a downward circular motion at us. “Sange” we agreed, smiling and nodding our heads. Yes we were sange … or at least we were pretty sure we were sange. He had tickets in his hand and happily displayed three that were together (among an oddly large stack for someone who didn’t actually work on the train).  He looked down the hall as a way of showing us where the beds were. “yes please” we nodded emphatically.  Somehow though he hadn’t realized that we weren’t all in the same cabin, and once he did the happy lilt from his voice disappeared and sange became a sad word. “sange” he said shaking his head slowly back and forth before turning and walking away. And that was that. Or so we thought. A few minutes later we repeated almost the exact same conversation with one of his cohorts.  What had seemed like a gesture to help the poor linguistically challenged white girls was really an attempt for the mafiosa to get a cabin to themselves.  In the end they were stuck with me. I had my stuff on what I thought was my bunk but they made it clear that in fact I was to sleep on the tippity-top bunk, where there isn’t enough room to sit without smashing my head on the ceiling.  I have to climb over all of them to get to my bunk, and while I am getting better, my lack of grace could be interpreted by some as a slight nuisance. I do it with a smile and an apologetic shrug though.

There were a number of other little gems that happened before we actually settled into our final situations.  There was only one man in my compartment at first, a friendly old Chinese grandfather and we exchanged many smiles, nihaos, and sympathetic gazes and I was a little sad when he seemed to just disappear down the hall with all of his stuff. We still share smiles and nods when he walks down the hall to the bathroom, but it’s just not the same. Knowing what I do now, his departure was clearly incited by Turtleface Joe, the ersatz-ticket man, the mob boss, and my roommate.

So, as I’ve mentioned I share my compartment with 5 middle aged men. The leader, Turtleface is logically named for his striking resemblance to a turtle. He seems hard, but he’s got a soft chewy center and a toiletry bag covered in hearts. Sergeant Snore, a younger fellow, is decked out in brand names from his Northface fishing hat to the Nikes on his feet, and his original name, Brandy, was reflective of this, but after trying to sleep directly across from him, Sergeant Snore is a better name for him. He too came off as a little hard, but has since softened and today we took pictures of each other taking pictures of each other and he even uploaded the ones he had taken onto my computer. There is also Captain Underwear. His name was acquired through an event that I will share shortly.  The other wingman is Mud Flap Moe due to the shirt he wears that has silhouettes of two naked women leaning back to back on the sleeves.  The other man seems to just be part of the entourage but hasn’t inspired a name yet.

Almost immediately after it became clear that it would be complicated to try to get a room together, I came to the conclusion that actually I sort of preferred my sleeping situation. I mean how often does one get the opportunity to sleep with the mob, and the Chinese mob no less.  This is probably my only chance to have such an experience and oh man am I happy I embraced it.  My roommates have turned out to be endlessly entertaining, and while we can’t speak to each other, we have had many satisfying conversations and laughed heartily.

That first night, after someone came through the car closing the blinds and yelling something that apparently meant 'bed time', the lights were turned off, and I climbed the two flights up to my bed and settled into my cocoon. My roommates were staying up, and I could hear them chatting intensely below me.  Soon the distinct smell of hot dogs and yogurt came wafting up to the ceiling where I was lying.  Trying to stay quiet so as not to attract attention to myself I slowly began to edge my way to side of the cot so that I could confirm my suspicion that the men below me were eating a late night dinner of Wealthy Family Ham as they engaged in what I assumed was a lively debate over China’s place in the globalized world. I cautiously poked  my head over the guard rail and peered down. What I saw was not was I was expecting.  They were all sitting on the bottom bunks, having at some point taken their shirts off (a re-occurring theme I have since found out). Huddled close, they were each holding an egg -- hardboiled and definitely not from a chicken, these eggs were about twice the size and had a grayish hue -- and they were engaged in some sort of drinking game that involved peeling a piece of the egg, revealing something in the egg white that seemed to tell them their fortune and to take a shot at the same time.  They would show the newly exposed piece of egg, nod at each other, take a shot of grain alcohol, then a bite of egg and repeat the process.  Chests were slapped, cigarettes were smoked, and while I haven’t completely gotten over the fear that someone might lose a lung as a result of the extensive hacking that goes on, that night I decided that at least part of it was simply an expression of their manliness.

All of sudden, Turtleface must have felt my eyes on him and he looked up causing me to whip my head back, smacking it against the side of the compartment with a loud thud. The rest of my body followed, and in one motion  I slid down the wall and pulled the cocoon over my head where I spent the rest of the night hugging the side and praying that I wasn’t going to have to pee. 

Luckily I made it through the night without needing to get down, although morning came fast and started early.  After waking up I laid in bed trying to avoid eye contact with Sergeant Snore across the way who was watching something on a little ipod-like thing, until other people started to move about and brush their teeth around 6 am at which point I felt that it was safe to get up.  Around 8 am, Ceci, Kim and I began the trek down to the dining car to meet up with Dee and Keesler and have breakfast.  Each car inbetween point A and point B is distinct.  There are seater cars that, while they look the same, have completely different feels, although each is packed with more people than there are seats, and we had to make our way around at least one person who had managed to fall asleep sitting up.  This walk has become something I greatly look forward to, as the people change with each of the few stops we make, reflecting the different parts of China that we are in. For awhile there was a large number of Muslims, but they have since disembarked.  All of a sudden last night there were Tibetans on the train, which, although we tried to suppress it, caused Ceci and I to exchange a quick but giddy look. 

By the time we returned from breakfast, the party in my cabin was already well under way.  Beers were open, more eggs were to be had, the lid on an oversized can of sardines had been rolled back and its contents consumed, and the bones of some small woodland creature were scattered across a metal tray. By around 2 o’clock, shirts were pulled up revealing bellies that were engorged with food and alcohol.  Said bellies were being rubbed as if to both to settle them and move things around enough to find space to put more. Nap time came and after they were all nestled in their bunks sound asleep it was clearly time to take pictures of my bunkmates. Turtleface was the first to wake up, and soon after, tapped Ceci and I. We turned around to see him holding his camera and pointing it at his wingman, who had kicked the blanket off putting his legs and underwear on display.  We all began to laugh uncontrollably and I desperately wanted to reach for my camera and say “look! I took the same picture of your friend in his underwear!“ but in the end decided that probably wasn’t a good idea.

Will You Buy My Water?

On our third day in China we went to the Great Wall. We signed up at our hostel to go as a group, and were picked up at 6:15 in the morning by Rocky (our tour guide) and shuffled onto a bus that would take us the three hours to our starting point along the Wall at Jinshanling. As our package included breakfast and lunch, we were each handed a little bag containing an Egg McMuffin from McDonalds and a Coke.  We picked up a number of other tourists along the way, including what appeared to be five members of a French rugby team wearing matching polo shirts, and a number of other run-of-the-mill travelers. 

Luckily we didn’t stay as a group, but instead were told we just needed to make it the 12 km to Simitai by 2:30 when the last shuttle bus would take us to the restaurant where we would have lunch. There were much fewer tourists along the Wall than I would have expected, and it was a pleasant surprise. The only annoying thing was trying to shake all the people following us trying to hock souvenirs and soda. Every watchtower was equipped with someone selling water, beer, soda, t-shirts, and even one who had champagne and shots of scotch on offer. Despite this, hiking up and down the endless unrestored craggy steps that make up much of the Wall was right up there with walking the Inca Trail. The scenery was stunning, vast rolling hills peppered every now and then with carved out terraced plots. When we got to Simitai Kim and I opted to ride the zip line down to the parking lot, providing us when last amazing view of the wall as we glided down over the river. 

Communism Makes a Face-Plant into the Capitalist Pie

So Mao.

What can I say.  Everyone is right when they say the guy was short, and his environment doesn’t help. It makes him seem remarkably small in stature. splayed out in his glass coffin, encompassed in a glass room, surrounded by opulent decorations, multiple guards, and a rope. And I can’t say for sure if it is just a result of the preservatives that have allowed him to keep his general form and features for the past 34 years since his death, or if part of his power was the result of him resembling something picturesque and unearthly but his body looks like a backlight Madame Tussauds wax sculpture. Being shuffled through a long line of people waiting, though not always patiently, to get a glimpse of the Chairman, was for sure a little creepy, a lot surreal, but mostly just totally cool. It was like being able to witness the inner workings of a well oiled bureaucratic machine with a strikingly Orwellian feel. Big Brother was most definitely watching. Somehow they have set it up so there is only time to pay your respects quickly -- no time to contemplate what this leathery old body is meant to symbolize, or reflect or question anything -- before you find yourself in the Mao Memorial gift shop, the point where Communism makes a face plant into the capitalist pie.

Across the Street from Tianamen Square is the Forbidden City, which is also quite spectacular to see once you’ve made your way through the all the stalls selling kitch. It’s kind of what you would imagine an enclosed imperial city to be, complete with a beautiful garden where the emperor chose girls for his harem and could catch a few rays while the concubines fanned themselves under a banyan tree.  

Sacrificial virgin takes bath in broth while fighting with old chicken on bed of tender greens.

 6:45 PM
Ok, so we have now spent a day wandering the streets of Beijing and I am better able to reflect a little on the city and being in China. Here are a few early observations:

Observation 1: There are a lot of Chinese people in China.
Observation 2: There are a surprising number of public restrooms, and when they say public they really mean public … pretty much just open rooms with holes in the floor.
Observation 3: People are generally very nice and willing to help.
Observation 4: Sign language is not universal.
Observation 5: When there are guards standing outside of gates it usually means you are not welcome inside.
Observation 6: Toddlers poop on the street.
Observation 7: The sun comes up at an optimal time if you need to work the fields, less so if you are interested “sightseeing in leisure” in an urban setting.

11:30 PM
This evening for dinner we went in search of Peking Duck. We ended up at a local restaurant a few blocks from our hostel that was recommended to us by the amazingly awesome woman who works here at the Jade International, Lydia. The food was good, but trying to eat it all became a feat of will power and strength. Ordering was a challenge and we failed miserably. After musing over the menu and trying to decide if we also wanted to get an order of “failed to blow up flat fish as it swims meekly through the incensed pond” or “sacrificial virgin takes bath in broth while fighting with old chicken on bed of tender greens” somehow we ended up with at least 2 ducks. When part 1 of our order arrived we were satisfied with our selection, upon the arrival of part 2 we were still feeling pretty impressed with our ability to order through a series of gestures. By the time part 3 was brought to our table we were starting to realize that perhaps an error had been made with the flailing of an arm. And by the time part 4 was brought out we no longer felt confident that we could effectively communicate without words, reaffirming observation four above: sign language is not universal. Although the guilty look on the waiter’s face makes me think that he may have understood more than he let on. At one point Kim admitted she was slowing down and was thinking about taking a break, forcing me to remind her that it takes 20 minutes for the brain to realize it was full so she better keep going and step it up a notch. Overall a good dining experience and a good first day in Beijing.

The State of My Feet

Yeah, yeah, we’re in China, but the really impressive thing is the size of my feet. And thus begins my 2,256 hours in Asia, with feet three times their normal size, and the only comfort I had on the plane was knowing that if we were to crash in the Pacific Ocean I would have optimal buoyancy to survive. Way to go body and your defense mechanisms! Having landed, however, I would very much appreciate it if everything could return to its normal and proper size so that I can once again secure the straps on my shoes without them popping off with every step. The sound of the Velcro coming up is starting to embarrass me.

Not going to lie, I realize that swollen feet aren’t very exciting, but so far the state of my feet is the most interesting thing that has happened. But really all this means is that the flight was easy, if extremely long, and the hostel is surprisingly nice and much more hotel-like than I would have expected.