On on to Beijing

As that lonesome train pulled away from the station in Kunming on the night of April 15, I took my place in the six-bunk compartment that was occupied by a group of Chinese geriatrics (that means old people). I laid down for the night and was disturbed by strange dreams throughout. In one of them I became lucid and flew into the sky, but soon lost control and fell softly back to earth.

There's not too much to say about being on a train for forty hours without anyone with whom you share a common language. I finished reading Mark Twain's Innocents Abroad, which I have been working on nearly since I disembarked in Malaysia, and started reading some Carl Jung, because sometimes I am comforted by the way he tries to rationalize the human spirit. I wrote endlessly in my journal and even wrote postcards to some of you people. I listened to music that reminded me of isolation and transportation, like Radiohead, Sufjan Stevens' Age of Adz, and anything from Iceland. I ate nothing except for a bag of warm milk that one of the old women insisted that I take, because I seemed to have no appetite. And then I spent another night on the train.


In the morning on April 17, I awoke to the passing agricultural flatlands of Northeastern China, having left behind the majestic Karst formations and subtropical foliage of the South. By 11:00 that morning the train abruptly entered an urban zone and we soon pulled into the Beijing western railway station. I managed to meet a Polish-German couple and with the use of their guidebook and a decent amount of non-verbal communication, we were able to navagate two metro lines and a long walk to find a good hostel, that was booked completely. Instead I checked into a subpar, windlowless room in a hotel with a staff that enjoyed talking about me in Chinese and laughing (or maybe I'm just being overly self-conscious). Thus began an underwhelming two-and-a-half day stint in this nation's capital.

Beijing is, from the accounts I have heard from other travelers, an interesting and fun-filled city. And I do not doubt that. I even saw some of it myself. But I hardly think that the two days I spent there were time enough to really get to know this city or find the right places to enjoy myself. I'll give you a briefish recap of those two days and try to spare you the more boring details.


Upon arriving and settling into my room, I set about looking for Mr. Shi's restaurant based on a business card I had from there, given to me by Sasha. Eventually I was able to find my way there and ate an outrageous amount of fried dumplings (jow-dza!), which filled my completely empty stomach more than sufficiently. That night I did next to nothing.


My first full day here, I slept in a bit and then went in search for the travel office where I could pick up my train ticket to Mongolia. Navigating the metro and the huge (nearly unwalkable) city blocks of Beijing, I found the office, and with my task for the day being complete, I got back on the metro for Tian'aman Square, the center of the city. Once there, I navigated the throngs of tour groups and scam artists and entered the huge walls of the forbidden city, the capital of the nation during much of the dynastic period. I took lots of pictures and tried to be impressed by the architecture and history.


After that, I hung out in the concrete desert that is Tian'aman Square for a brief time, hoping to find the spot where that guy stood in front of the army tanks in the 1980's, but for some reason there was no monument to mark the spot, so I gave up looking for it and left. I went back to Mr. Shi's for some more jow-dza, boiled, not fried this time, and then passed the evening uneventfully in a non-social sort of way.


My final day I had a list of tasks to accomplish, including catching up on this here blog, buying a camera memory card and a jacket for Mongolia and Siberia (I got a sweet US Army jacket), emailing friends and family, changing currency (finally got rid of the HK$'s that have been weighing me down), researching a place to stay in Ulan Batar, and taking a shower. I'm proud to say I accomplished everything on my list, nearly at least. After a good day's work, I got some more jow-dza (I'm not always this monotonous with my food choices), and then passed another uneventful evening, observing a Chinese bar scene.


I awoke at sunrise the next morning and made my way to the metro station, through the quiet Beijing streets of morn, and to the Beijing main railway station for my departure from China.

China, I can't say I knew you well, though as for your southern pearl of Yunnan, I feel I gave it a fair shake. I know one day I will come back and see more of this land, but it may be years yet (although my visa will allow me one more entry before January 28, 2011). In China I saw true beauty, in the land, in the people, natives and foreigners alike. I saw true charity and some disgusting habits, but it is a time in my life I will not soon forget.


And now, lady's and gentleman, begins the grueling portion of my journey, in which I am unlikely to spend more than two days in any one place; meanwhile I travel endless days and nights by rail, from the capital of China, through the desolate expanses of Mongolia and Siberia and the great civilizations of Europe, the airs of the Atlantic and the barren ashes of Iceland, and finally, once again, land on the eastern shores of my native country, the land of the free, and travel the vast plains and deserts and mountains by bus and train and arrive rapturously in Flagstaff on the night of June 14.

I am more than halfway through my trip by time standards, but I have 2/3 of the Earth's longitude to cross yet. The days of warmth and comfort and bargain prices are over, but I remain myself, however changed by my experiences in South Asia. I feel like this is the end of one thing and the beginning of another, and if I let myself to it, I could keep writing pretentious things for hours (I'm in the mood), but I'll save it for my diary; it's time to explore the capital of Mongolia before I leave for yet another country.