On to Liuyang

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST HAS A BIT OF 'COLOR'. SOME MAY WISH TO PROCEED TO THE NEXT BIT OF BOLD FACED WORDS

The man who drove Aimee and I to the train station in Guilin told us to wait for about an hour near the outdoor public restrooms for a travel company to come and give us our tickets for the overnight to Changsha. As I waited I thought about what an adventure I was on, about how funny life could be, how amazing it could be... OK I am bullshitting here but please, let me. I need some way to label what was about to happen as adventurous or exciting; even calling it oddly foreign would do. During our wait I decided to quickly visit the little boys room where there was a single trough up against a wall. I have peed in plenty of bar bathrooms and the trough style of things does not really bother me much. Now it is true that after I had finished relieving myself I stood for a few, but just a few, seconds more taking deep breaths and preparing myself for the train ride ahead before I put it all back inside my shorts. However I would not ever classify this short amount of time as the amount of time a man would have to wait before he would think that the man with his bits out (me) was inviting him to have a go. Apparently in China I had waited precisely that amount of time. It turns out that public restrooms outside of train and bus stations are happening spots for young Chinese homosexuals to meet. Oh how obvious these things become to a person after his penis has been touched by a stranger. And in reality it was quite obvious... the restroom was full of men just kind of hanging out. The odd thing was that the man didn't even say anything to me, not that my reaction would have been much better had he, but really, to just reach over like that... the barbarian. My reaction was also nonverbal. I didn't want to chastise him in English, lest he mistake my anger for role play; and remarkably the Rosetta Stone never covered the Mandarin words I was searching for. I quickly zipped up and dashed out of the restroom. I was lucky to have Aimee there making light of the situation otherwise I would have fumed over it all night.

Next up was an enterprising young boy who wanted to wash my sandals... my sandals. I was having none of this. Now you must remember that I have travelled through India, where you see some truly depressing shit in the train stations. I mention this only because I don't want my readers to think that I am callous when I say that my heart was not even hiccuping for this fat and fully clothed 12 year old in front of me. I must admit however that these Chinese kids were far more persistent than their Indian counterparts. He simply would not take no for an answer. What a pain in the ass. In half an hour's time we would literally watch our 'travel guide' walk up to the ticket depot we were sitting right next to, which had English signage by the way, and buy our tickets. He was half an hour late and we had to pay him 70 Yuan apiece for his 'services'. Chinese capitalism at its finest I suppose. You would think that I couldn't stand this country, that I would be constantly questioning why I came here and that I would hate living here... and sometimes I do have all of these emotions. However China often offers its own salvation when you need it the most. Today it came in the form of two men from Xian, who I assume were not gay, who rescued us from the touts and the little kid. They made fast friends with us and tried to speak to us in broken English. Aimee filled in the gaps for me with her Mandarin. When they saw that we were not a couple of bleeding heart tourists they explained to the kid that his time was probably more effectively spent elsewhere. They offered me a cigarette and, feeling obliged but also feeling like I really needed one, I accepted it and then another. We left them in a flurry of thank yous in many languages and rushed onto our train... which is a fifteen minute story in itself.

OK GRANDMA, YOU CAN START READING AGAIN

I started this post with some sarcastic existentialism, but I must admit that there is something really fun and adventurous about taking a train in China when there is only one other English speaker aboard the transport. We were in hard sleeper, which meant that privacy would be non existent on the trip. The family who shared our little cubby was polite and quiet. The two teenage children seemed thrilled that they were sharing their berth with some westerners though I got the feeling that the boy tried hard not to show it. Aimee was not feeling well so I stayed up with her as long as I could. All around us the Chinese were making themselves at home, setting up snacks or brushing their teeth. One boy, maybe eight years old, ran up and down the aisle wearing only a long orange T-shirt. Without getting too sappy I would really like to say what a wondrous occasion this train ride really was. It was fun. It was new. It was adventurous. We awoke the next morning to be dumped quickly onto the platform of the Changsha train station. The sky was grey and polluted and I thought back to my decision to smoke those cigarettes the night before. We easily found our Foreign Affairs Officer (FAO) in the crowd outside the station and from that moment on the day was a flurry of action. We had three meals, were shown our new apartments (quite nice I must say), taken to the supermarket, shown around the school, and given a quick and uncomfortable tour of Liuyang in a small Chevrolet. That evening fireworks went off late into the night. Liuyang is the world's largest producer of the explosives and it appears that this will be a nightly occurrence. Today Aimee and I went for a walk around the school, but even given the grey skys it is deadly hot. There is a small shop that doubles as a pool hall and bar about a mile from the school's entrance. Other than that, there is not much between us and downtown Liuyang, which is not by any means a small village. Don't let the Chinese fool you... Liuyang is a city, a city with hundreds of thousands of people.

Right now the newness of everything is hard. However I realize that in one SHORT year I will undoubtedly be sad when I leave this place. The teaching staff seem nice, though many of them do not speak English. We are planning to make a trip to Changsha in a few days so that Amy can change her money there. I will update on that as well as the beginning of the school year as it happens. Thank you for reading. I am trying to report my life here in China as honestly as I can bear it. Often what you read may make you think I hate this place... I do not. It is new, it is foreign, but for at least one year it is also my home.

C. Johnson