The flight was 13 hours as promised, but we also spent over an hour on the runway. I had a middle seat, which I didn't discover until it was too late to change or complain. Besides, checking in was hectic enough, due to my luggage being overweight. Not just a little overweight either--I had to take out 10 lbs or pay $300. I put most of the 10 lbs in my backpack and paid $50 instead, but it was pretty hectic and my backpack got heavy. Never mind. It was at least a four-across row with aisles on either side (not a five-across), and besides, all the people in it were very friendly. To my right, a young fellow who worked for HP and was doing a month-long training program in Dalian. To my left, an older man originally Iraqi who teaches anatomy and is doing a one-week lecture gig, also in Dalian. Being in a middle seat, at least for a small person, is only miserable if you decide to be miserable. If you are reasonably comfortable with the people beside you, it is not so bad. I did feel a little constrained about getting up and down, especially since my backpack didn't fit under the seat and if I wanted to change activities it was a bit tricky. Also I often got very thirsty because I hadn't managed to fill up a water-bottle at all, and the water-service was not more frequent, despite the new restrictions. Every time they came by, though, I took two and all in all it was a reasonable flight.
There was one especially exciting part, when we were passing over the Queen Elizabeth Islands (northern Canada) and there was for a while no cloud cover below us. I managed to squeeze out of my confinement and take a couple gorgeous pictures through the airplane window. Everyone was taking pictures of the frozen trackless white encroaching on the receding brown of the islands. Then no islands, just sea ice shattered by lapis-blue gems and traceries. This must have been pretty near the north pole. It was amazing to have the experience of seeing it, a sight that so few people in human history have been given to see.
When I got to the airport in Beijing, things when surprisingly smoothly. I guess somehow I was expecting nightmare bureaucracy. Instead, the lines were short and fast and the checking of things quite perfunctory. At the luggage claim, I waited a long time with a couple of other foreigners around my age and stage (or a little younger) and we cheered each other on. My particular suitcase had not one but two identical twins, just as heavy as itself, which I pulled off the belt several times each, but finally got the right one. Then it was out through the "nothing to declare" line and into the main corridor of the airport.An absolute riot of faces behind a barrier rail--faces and signs and taxi drivers jostling for business. At the last minute, a friend of my bro's had e-mailed and said she really must pick me up from the airport. I didn't know what she looked like, but I told her what I looked like, what I would be wearing, and also sent her my website address with my picture. I probably could have done okay myself from the airport, but I felt infinitely better having someone pick me up--I have to admit it. The problem was, all those faces and signs, but no sign with my name on it and no face that seemed to recognize mine. I curtly refused taxi drivers and curved around behind the passenger exit runway. Stood in front of the Starbucks. Thought about buying a phone card to call the girl's number (which I had carefully written down).
Then I did see a familiar face that recognized mine--one of my fellow Fbers, whom I had met at the orientation. She didn't remember my name and I didn't remember hers, but we remembered each other's faces and were full of fellow-feeling. She had been here two weeks and was picking up another Fber on my same flight. I borrowed her cell-phone without hesitation. Unfortunately the number didn't work. Had I copied it down wrong? She was concerned and wanted to know if I needed help. I thought of leaving with them but decided it was better to wait around a bit and see if bro's friend would show up.
She did, very soon after, and I was extremely glad I had waited. So was she. I will call her JZ. She had just been running a bit late. She had in tow a tall, well-fed fellow she introduced as her sort of foster-brother, FL. Their families are very close friends, she explained, and his parents consider her their daughter while her parents consider him their son. There is no word for this kind of relationship in English, but she said it is really common here. Somehow a natural thing like the sibling relationship recreating itself, despite the one-child policy. It is nice.
Anyway, the fellow had his own car. He is a Beida graduate and reading between the lines--well--rather privileged. Also JZ said he is Beijing tong (北京通), which is to say, he knows everything about Beijing. This is a great quality in a new friend! Of course, we spent a while finding his car in the parking garage. But I didn't mind one bit. I had slept several hours on the plane, and was enjoying the intoxicating feeling of not being quite so much a stranger in a strange land as I had feared. Also we got very lost looking for the hostel I had booked, which turned out to be quite a hole-in-the-wall place. Literally--the alley (hutong), when we finally found it, was not wide enough for FL's car. The whole neighborhood turned out and looked on in amusement. This is definitely how I had imagined Beijing hutong life, but I had not envisioned arriving in a big car.
All the time we had been driving (and it was a long time!), we had been chattering in a happy mixture of Chinese and English. I am absolutely at my best talking Chinese to other young people who also know English but often prefer Chinese. Knowing I can use English if I get stuck, and also that I can just be me and not have to mind my manners, are two comfort factors that combine to improve my language skills considerably. Alas I am less good at talking to older people! We also had quite a tour of outer bits of Beijing. High rises springing up. JZ pointed out some and said they're like housing projects, where poor people live. To my untrained eye, it is not easy to tell the difference between them and the ones for rich people in Chicago's near north where we live, but I assume the difference is internal!
Weaving effortlessly through traffic, FL simultaneously made a quick round of calls round to all his friends--regarding apartments near Beida. Can you believe that? Just preliminary, he said. Later he would give me a couple websites, and I could pick out some, and he could go with me to look at them. "You can read Chinese right?" So thankful that I could. One place was too expensive in FL's opinion. "You could use the money to buy nice things, have a good time!" Then rattled off a list of things in Chinese, which included things I didn't understand, and qipao, a traditional Chinese dress which would not suit me too well at the moment due to the pot-belly but might later on? "Ah no," I said, "it's books I'm planning on using the money to buy." "BOOKS!" FL exploded with laughter. "Books are soooo cheap. I heard that in America books are like 10 or even 100 dollars." I owned that some were. "Books here are usually about 10 yuan" (=$1.25). I said, "Well, I'll have to ship them back." He agreed that shipping them back would be far more expensive than buying them! But still laughing and shaking his head.
JZ and FL were not too satisfied with the quality of the youth hostel, when we finally arrived, but consented to leave me here for a night at least. They promise to whisk me away to a much more convenient and "much much much much nicer" hotel near Beida for the same price, tomorrow or the next day. It is really funny how Asian people either ignore your need for help or totally take over your life (the latter being the case here). Shades of my dad's former grad student in Korea. JZ and FL even brought me a huge box of freshly picked grapes. In this particular case, I have zero objections to my life being taken over by them. It makes me feel less anxious. It make me feel warm and happy.
They insisted on ordering dinner to be delivered to me here, and then they went off to meet up with their parents and let me rest. The hostel is a bit on the rickety side, but not as bad as FL's affronted looks might make one think. It is as promised very clean. Not very lively, but that is for the better. Weirdly unprivate, with thin walls and curtains open by default over big windows into the courtyard. I am happy to have my own room, which is tiny but also clean and air-conditioned. (I closed the curtains, hoping it didn't seem too unsociable.) The two beds are exceedingly narrow and hard, but not uncomfortable for all that. They have a spring, I think, and though not futons are comparable to futons. The architectural style is "four-sided courtyard" (sihe yuan) which is just what the name implies. The shared bathroom is comfortable because it is reasonably modern and for one person only--comfortable unless you are waiting outside the door! But never mind, the person who was taking a shower in there did come out before I actually died.
The employees seem to outnumber the guests here, one fellow who does the money and three or four bored young women who do the various tasks like bringing you a plate or an electric kettle for boiling water. Internet does not take the form of wireless or individual jacks, but rather an ancient laptop with a tenuous connection and an eccentric keyboard. No skype tonight!
For all the place is not exactly a four-star hotel, it has its charm. The courtyard is full of flowering plants, and there are two very tiny but playful white kittens. A huge porcelain jug holds goldfish. There is a lot of carved wood, and a pleasant feeling as everyone sits around in the courtyard watching TV. I will add that Chinese TV is much less annoying than Japanese TV. It is surely strictly controlled propaganda, but it has a soothing, soft-edged feel to it that I actually kind of like. Even the annoying song-and-dance shows are gentle somehow. And news is soft as a spring rain. Also, it's easier to tolerate TV when it's not in your native language. It's an interesting challenge to try to understand something/anything.
As usual, I did okay making myself understood, despite an embarrassing lapse or two. If the person spoke Chinese too fast, though, I got a bit lost. Well, my ear will improve I hope.So far the only real mishap is that, after pouring boiled water into my Nalgene (hopefully it will be okay to drink), I somehow slipped and splashed some on myself. I know it's not possible that Chinese boiling water is hotter than American, but it sure seemed like it. Two big blisters right on--well, right over my heart, let's just say. Somehow the setting is right for superstitions and the freakishness of that little accident makes me wonder if it's some karmic just deserts I don't quite understand!
I certainly got lucky meeting JZ and FL. FL in particular was enthusiastic about helping me find a room. But couldn't for the life of him fathom why I would want to live alone in a one-bedroom place--which, he says, are also difficult to find because what Chinese person would want one? Wouldn't you be lonely? Or feel unsafe? I hinted that a nice neighborhood was something I'd be willing to pay extra for, and mentioned that my boyfriend would be coming to visit. I hope we can work something out! In any case, FL offered to help with the landlord negotiations, and I really hope that will happen, because he is perfect for the part, namely, Chinese guy with loud voice and used to getting his way! But definitely under the thumb of his "older sister" (jiejie), John's friend JZ.
JZ is leaving for a trip to her hometown of Xi'an in a couple of days. I have a sneaking suspicion she put off the trip a bit so she could welcome me. I feel guilty but glad! She says she will love taking me to Xi'an sometime and showing me around, including Sima Qian's birthplace, which she says is an area totally sunk in rural poverty. She says she will be back and forth between Beijing and Xi'an for the next few months, because she has a job there but her parents want her to look for one here. They have her booked up with various lunch appointments, people who might be able to help her get a job--that's the way to do it here.
Well, I should stop writing before I run down the battery too much. By the time I alighted, it was already too late to go out looking for a plug adapter, so the recharging situation remains uncertain. I will post this as soon as I get a slightly more reliable connection!
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