02.22.06 – Anshun, China
Starting the day off with a run in cold weather really wakes you up in the morning. The college track is located right by Thomas’ apartment, so I take advantage of it. After a good three mile run, Thomas leads the way to climb a couple of mountains that surround the campus. The mountain is rather steep and at times you are using all four of your limbs to steady yourself, but overall, I would say it is a novice climb. The mountain is made of limestone and in some spots it protrudes the surface, like the hair of Bart Simpson. Farmers plant crops in the crevices of these stones, making use of any and all possible soil. Thomas reminds me that all the vegetables in the villages are grown using the collective feces from the village outhouses. This is the main reason that all vegetables are fried in China. The mountain is also scattered with graves made by family members; full circles built up with soil about three feet high with a rock wall surrounding it and a gravestone with Chinese characters. Graves like this are forbidden to be made any longer, but people still do it. A current population of one billion, and providing a grave for everyone would surely take up any extra land space in China.

We peer over an edge of the mountain where construction crews have been digging and blasting away in order to get rock for gravel and concrete. We quickly scramble away for fear that the dynamite could blow at any second. The top of the mountain provides a wonderful view of the square rice patties, hay stacks, outhouses, and mountains in the distance. The sky is a little foggy, as it is everyday in February. Little bodies move on paths in between the fields, tending to their lifelong jobs of maintaining the rice fields. The huts provide shelter in case of drastic weather, a bed for babies to sleep while the parents work, and possibly a place to use the restroom. You can see familiar construction cranes and green mesh outlining the skeletons of new buildings going up around the campus. The campus is slowly making its way into the rice fields. As we head back towards the apartment, new construction into the mountain is underway. Graves are being dug up revealing wooden caskets with nothing but a large stone inside, to show respect.

Lunch is served, Italian noodles with parmesan cheese. Cheese is pretty hard to come by in China. Gretchen’s sister sent it in the mail. I haven’t had an Italian meal since the Vietnamese Rocky theme played over the intercom in the Hanoi restaurant. After lunch we take a stroll. In the backyard of the apartment is an area with bars for chin-ups, secured tight with wires secured in the ground, pulling in opposite directions. Large water buffalo, with curling horns almost touching, use the securing wires to scratch their backs as they eat the surrounding grass. They are incredibly cool-headed animals, so much that I am suggested to ride on the back of one and get my picture taken. I choose against it, but do stand right next to them. I get so close that one of them practically licks the lens.

The route we take to the bus station is a back way and provides me with a picture perfect moment. Along a dirt road, a rice patty sits to the left. An old man, crouching over as he slowly walks, uses a small stick to lead two water buffalo down the path. Immediately to the right is a construction fence, with an infamous green mesh construction building towering over us all. It’s exactly the fine line between two lifestyles that seem to represent China.

A lake greets us after leaving the village. Old men fish, casting their bamboo poles into the reflection of the mountains. Black ducks waddle around in the water, making the mountains shake. The area right in front of the university always has at least five buses waiting to start their rotation and it’s always a guessing game to see which one is leaving next. Men smoking on the bus give us the hint that this particular one is going out next. Just as we sit down, a girl screams in fun with laughter, runs off the bus, and then a firecracker goes off, inside the bus! Everyone including the bus driver laughs. This just wouldn’t happen in America, somebody would surely get in trouble.

The bus drops us off at what Thomas has coined the “basket weaving street.” On this tight, yet long alley way, you will find small shops making and selling everything under the sun. You see people hard at work molding metal into large pots, weaving baskets into all shapes and sizes, and stitching large mattresses from scratch. The metal workers have hair that is stained silver like the tin man. Gretchen can’t wait for me to see the dentist section. Just outside the “dentist office”, basically looking like another grimy convenient store, sits a table with a red towel covering it. On the red towel are about thirty different teeth placed in an ad hoc manner. Apparently the more teeth they pull, the better the dentist. I cringe as I sit and watch somebody get their teeth worked on. Walking further you find every kitchen utensil possible, freshly made and sold for almost nothing. Gretchen and Thomas buy a cheese grater and rolling pin together coming to a total of about eighty cents.

After basket weaving street, the mission to find some face lotion for my very dry face is underway. Finally we come across a toiletry store with pushy salesmen who, at the sight of any indecisiveness, pounces on the opportunity to give you options. They keep trying to push this face lotion on me, but it serves as a whitener. I can’t stress enough that I don’t what any whitener whatsoever, but they keep pushing. Finally I just leave the store while they continue to persuade with outstretched hands holding whitener lotion.

So after that wonderful experience, we head to the train station to get me a train out of Anshun and into Kunming, towards warmer weather. Once again, because the station is so small, I can only purchase a standing ticket with hopes of upgrading when I board the train. Good enough…..I have done it once with no problem and feel certain that I can do it again. We head out of the train station and to a section of town that sells souvenirs specific to the Anshun region. I could buy absolutely everything that these village people are selling, scrolls with Chinese characters, tapestries, and wooden artifacts. Eventually I settle on two small drawstring bags, one for all the coins that I am gathering from different countries, and one for “just in case.” Each bag only costs one yuan. That’s 1/8 of a dollar. Pretty good deal if you ask me.

On the walk back to the apartment I ask Thomas and Gretchen if they have gotten used to the “stares” and “hellos.” We agree that the stares are easy to get used to, but sometimes the hellos get a little annoying. They compare it to the life of a China man getting on the bus everyday in America and receiving a loud, mispronounced “NI HAO!” It can get old in certain situations, but for the most part, the giggle after the return “hello” makes the experience laughable.

We rush back to the apartment to grab my guitar and head to the school where David will be teaching English. On the way there, who else but David hops on at a random stop. Quite fitting as we were going to have directions to get to there.

I walk into the class filled with about twenty kids ranging in age from about six to twelve. Of course I greet them with a warm, loud “Ni hao.” They all turn their heads in amazement, seeing me stand before them with a guitar on my shoulder. This is going to be great. I take a seat right in the middle of some students in the back of the class, sitting on a small children’s chair. Two incredibly cute kids about six years old sit right next to me. I give them high fives and we begin to talk. One is named Nick and the other named Tim. Class begins when David claps his hands and tells the students to turn to page 23 in their books. He counts to three and the entire class reads the pages in unison. I join in as Nick gladly shares his book with me. This is great.

The time comes for me to play the guitar. I head up to the whiteboard and make sure that everyone knows how to pronounce the four fruits: banana, apple, pear, and orange. After a few practice rounds, everybody seems to get it. I pick up the guitar and start playing “Feeling Fruity.” I take it extra slow so that the kids can sing along with me. They pick it up quite quickly and have a great time yelling out the fruit names after singing and spelling them out. I teach them the word “swing” and start playing “Swinging on a Swing.” They still want more, but I don’t have any more songs that are on the children’s level, so what else to do but make one up on the spot. I call it “Sports.” The students repeat every word I say as I name as many sports as possible. After the music session, the class gets to ask me whatever questions they want, but they are incredibly shy. One student in particular is full of energy though. His name is Fly Eagle Jack. We laugh as I answer and ask questions like what is your favorite color, what is your name, and who is your favorite NBA player? After the question/answer session I ask Nick and Tim to draw anything they want in my notebook. Tim draws a superb t-rex, Nick another kind of friendly dino, and Fly Eagle Jack the finishing touches, turning the t-rex into a basketball player.

Class is dismissed and I hate to say goodbye to such a good experience, but the pictures in my notebook will forever remind me of the fun I had. I stick around for the next class, which is made up of students that are a little younger. The same routine goes on, and I am in luck during the in unison chants of English because they are studying fruits. So when I take the stage, it will be a test to their knowledge. Just to be sure, I go over all of the fruits again. When it comes to orange, everyone says orangey. It takes a good ten tries to transform the orangey into orange-uh, which is much more acceptable than orangey. I think this word is tough for them because most words in Chinese end in a vowel. They put the same “uh” on the end of the word “and” making it two syllables. After I sing the same songs, they get together and sing me a song and teach me a new Chinese saying.

Class is dismissed and David walks me to the bus stop. Along the way I buy some bananas to bring back to the apartment, as Thomas and Gretchen have run out. I pop in a supermarket real quick, buy some chocolate for Thomas after a discussion we had about our love for the wonderful treat. Chinese chocolate doesn’t compare to American chocolate, it actually is quite bad. Dove chocolate is pretty expensive along with Snickers and M and M’s. These are the extent of good chocolates you can get in China. I load up on the three and bring back the goodies to the apartment, only to find that Thomas had already bought a load of bananas while I was gone. Oh well, the more the merrier.

We get to talking about the future of my travels. I tell them that I intend on heading to Laos after Kunming, then Thailand, then Cambodia. Gretchen goes to her room and brings back all sorts of information on Thailand for me. She points me in the direction of a non-touristy island named Koh Samed. She also gives me the Thailand Lonely Planet and phrasebook. She also gives me a map of Kunming and a travel size bottle of lotion. I can’t tell you how hospitable these people are.

The lovely couple heads to bed leaving the Internet open for me to use all night long, which is exactly what I do. I email, update, and instant message the night away. I receive an email from my dad’s high school friend, Geoffrey, who informs me that I am welcome to come and stay with him on his rubber plantation in Bangkok. An instant message conversation with a girl from Bulgaria whom I met in the states two years ago gives me a new destination as well. Things are really starting to fall into place. My train leaves at 6:30 tomorrow to Kunming. I can’t help but think about the nickname Kunming receives, “the spring city,” because the weather is like spring year round. As I drift off to sleep, I look into the ever familiar oscillating fan space heater. This will be the last time I have to be warmed up by one of these things.

02.20.06 – Guiyang to Anshun, China

This morning the sound of a crackling speaker with the volume going up and down is my wake-up call. The son of the father/son combo sharing the cabin with me is playing with the volume control. I have no clue what time it is. All I can do is try to focus on sleeping, but the sound of traditional Chinese music, with an annoying high pitch synthesizer, muffled by the poor quality of the speaker, keeps me awake. And on top of that, the father lights up a cigarette, in our enclosed cabin. The provided towel gets put to use over my mouth to keep the smoke out as I attempt to read 1984. The book is getting to the point where you can’t put it down. As I turn the pages, the son finally turns off the intercom speaker, the dad quits smoking, and I am able to fall back asleep. My stop isn’t until 5:30, so sleeping seems to be the desirable way to pass the time.

I wake up to the father and son packing their bags to depart, leaving me alone in the cabin for about five hours. I finish my book and pick up the guitar, but the damn intercom comes on again, and there is no way to turn it off this time. I chuckle to myself that being forced to listen to the synthesized music must be communism at work. And all of a sudden, it just turns off and I am able to play in peace.

The train reaches its final destination of Guiyang, my stop as well. I follow the masses in hopes of finding the exit. The exit has lines upon lines of people who must get a small tear in their ticket before finally leaving the station. I hand my ticket to the official, get it torn, and walk into the busy section just outside the train station, filled with buses, taxis, and mobs of people with loads of baggage. I think back to what Thomas told me about possibly taking a taxi to the bus station to get on the “Nan Zhan” bus. Taxis whiz by me with their “open for business” light on, never stopping to pick me up. The feeling of being lost starts to set in. To my left a policeman is having a heated argument with another driver and it is close to an exchange of fists. It’s time to find a phone and call David, the English speaking college student and friend of Thomas.

I cross the street to find a group of people huddled around the famous “red phones.” These red phones mean that I can call David. When he answers I tell him where I am and then hand the phone to a kid my age so that he can direct me to the bus to Anshun. I get back on the phone and David tells me to pay no more than 30 yuan for the hour long bus ride because the people will try charging over a hundred to foreigners. I am lead to the bus, which is only 50 feet away from where I am standing, secure a seat, and finally start feeling comfortable. This could be a bus with a destination in the completely wrong direction, but I still feel comfortable. A man sits next to me. I say “Ni hao.” He starts rattling off unfamiliar Chinese phrases. All I can say is “Xie xie” (thank you). He grabs my notebook and writes what he is saying in Chinese characters, which in no way helps my understanding. Later I learn that he wrote, “Are you from America or England?” After which I properly reply, “Thank you.” Then he wrote “I am a businessman and would like to do business with you. Can you help me?” After which I properly answer, “Thank you.” He gives up talking to me after that.

I arrive in Anshun, head straight to a red phone, and call David. He tells me not to go anywhere….”Believe me David, I’m not going anywhere!” The weather seems even colder than Yichun, and rightfully so being that Anshun is in the mountain region. Luckily, Jodi gave me a winter coat that he doesn’t where any longer. I play my guitar and have staring matches with the locals as I wait. David shows up and we are off to meet Thomas and Gretchen.

David is going to graduate from Anshun Teachers College in May with a degree in English. We talk about all the pressure that the tests he has to take puts on him. His entire college career is measured on one English test. The better he does, the better the job. He wants to teach English full time and be a tour guide part time. He stands just shorter than me, with a sense of style, a little soft-spoken, and an unavoidable mole just by his lower lip that he conceals every once in a while. I have to lean in close to hear what he is saying on the loud bus ride to the college campus where Thomas lives. We arrive and head up six flights of stairs to his apartment where greets us at the door before we even reach the top of the landing.

The apartment is filled with warmth, not only heat, but warmth from kindness. Thomas has a voice that is soothing, one that would never be raised in any situation. Gretchen the same…..the type of voices that let me know the passing of my endless supply of flatulence won’t be rewarded with a high five. The living room is decorated with local tapestries and one wall is covered with pictures of friends and family. The smell of freshly cooked dinner fills the room. Dinner sits on the living room table. Much to my surprise, Thomas and Gretchen have set up the spare room with sheets, a towel, and some welcoming snacks. This will be my room for three nights.

During dinner, they all tell me about the amazing waterfalls that inhabit Anshun. We set up a time for David to practice his English and tour guide skills tomorrow morning. David leaves and I head to bed under the warmth of three blankets.

As I lay there, I think about how lucky I am be able to be welcomed into a stranger’s home, be fed upon arrival, and then sent to my own personal room. I can tell that this couple is going to provide me with the utmost hospitality.