The only convenience store within a manageable distance, considering the time, was crowded -- no use calling for help there. Then, raising my head again to break the perceptual rhythm of my awkward panting, I saw a single black taxi cab, in all its shiny chrome glory, sitting quietly at the curb less than a block up the street. I used what energy was left to bound up to it and wheeze my destination to the driver.
I got to the terminal about twenty minutes early.
>>><<<
few understand the wisdom of unforced non-action
because it can not be expressed with words and labels
it can only be intuitively felt
it can only be understood with the softness and formlessness
of water
it can only be implemented with the softness and formlessness
of water
-- the Tao Te Ching, ch. 43
>>><<<
happiness
misery
the seed of one is always within
the other
-- ibid, Ch.58
>>><<<
A long day as expected.
We began with a two-plus hour orientation, reviewing points of culture and history, as well as terms of behavior to apply to the length of our visit. There was also an introduction, a brief synopsis of who each of us were, followed by where we were from and some 'unique point' about ourselves, each given by the individual on our left within a congregation of eight or nine small circles. From across the room, I heard the point made that someone was a vegan and a feminist -- I took note of her and later learned her name, E---. By the end of the day, I would come to know her and a couple of others a little better.
We were on our own for lunch, so I trailed a few other people by taxi to a local mall. Walking with two other guys up floor after floor of fashion and garment design, gaining bit by bit more confidence in my ability to decipher the Chinese characters through my Japanese training, I eventually found myself standing with them within a crowded top-level food court, congested with four-chair tables, fake plants, neon lights, and confusing mixtures of smell. My self-confidence had for whatever reason peaked by that point, and I took us up to a counter for Chinese donbori (whatever that might be in Chinese). It seemed all too easy: just say "I want" and the number of for the set in the menu listed above. I chose tofu -- again, proud that I could read that it was indeed that -- and pulled off my most nonchalant Chinese ordering voice. "I want five." The woman looked at me blankly and gestured toward a copy of the menu that lay on the counter between us. I pointed and said again, "I want five." The woman looked up to me.
"Five?"
"Yes."
She then began to rattle off questions concerning size and side orders, and I managed to complete the rest of my stunt through pointing and grunted confirmations. She seemed inclined to sell me the drink in a special dinky thermos that had a built-in straw, and not having the stamina, nor even the actual ability, to argue with her, I agree to it.
I turned to the guys next to me with what must have been a look of boast on my face when the woman handed me a large clear bag filled with drink thermoses over the counter. I blinked, absolutely lost to what was happening, just as the full nature of my error dawned on me. I quickly tried to get the woman's attention, racing through the practically nonexistant vocabulary list I had with which I might tell her what I meant; a girl my age behind me even asked if she could help, in clear, nearly perfect English, because she was tired of waiting in line to order. But even as she talked between the clerk and me, trying to reach what was supposed to be such a simple agreement of terms, the result of the damage revealed itself at the left of the cashier: a tray of five tofu rice bowl sets ready to be picked up. The error eventually cleared up, but the blood in my face did not go away for several long minutes. I made plans to study Chinese more thoroughly later that night.
>>><<<
The first group event after the orientation was a visit to Tian'anmen Square. The largest city square in all the world, it can apparently hold up to half a million people within its massive scape. As I walked along its borders, taking photograhps and jotting notes about the location of the Parlaiment Building and other surrounding monuments, I reflected on the nature of the horror that took place on this very square in 1989, when thousands of people, many students, stood in numbers here to foice their dissatisfaction with the Communist Party of China, only to be herded, beaten, and even shot, by soldiers and martial law officesr sent by the leader of the CPC at that time, Deng Xiaoping -- some, I believe I read, had even been crushed, run over by the tanks manned by these 'keepers of the peace.' It was a horrendous historical event that I was very surprised to have not heard mentioned at all by our tour guide, as he led us toward the Heavently Gate of Peace.
The Gate, literally just across the road from the Square, stood as a massive wall, featuring on its front the renowned face of Mao Tsetung in painting, and having bridges lead one into its ominous and dark tunnel entrances. Despite their appearance, the entrances immediately gave way to the light of the first courtyard of the outer palace to the Forbidden City. For the next two or three hours, we caravanned thorugh courtyard after courtyard, intermittently enlighted by stories of the emperors and their successes (or failures) provided by our tour guide.
Having finally reached the inner palace, where no men, save the emperor and his eunichs, had been allowed to enter only a couple of centuries before, we viewed leisure rooms and statues for emperors of every dynasty. Our last stop before exiting was the imperial gardens, where stood in magnificent architectural grandeur stones imported from Thailand that ellicited images of waterfalls with not water, and cedar tees that we were told included many as old as two and a half centuries.
Our evening concluded with Peking duck -- the likes of which I do not think I have ever tasted and cannot begin to describe in its marvelous, succulent flavor -- and more stories about tables about people's backgrounds and intentions for travel. I was exhausted by eight fifteen.
>>><<<
The night extended before bedtime, however.
Through more unraveling of the beautiful mystery, I met a guy who also had a keen interest in philosophy, though his special interest was Kierkegaard. I told him a bit what I was looking into, and then, as the talk began to become more focused on the nature of belief in today's philosophy of politics, I gave him Slavov Zizek's name (that's right, Tom -- you became extensive that night too), saying I had never read him but that the couple of lectures I had seen him give were fantastic (...and controversial for me). Andreas seemed pleased, and we parted promising another discussion before our final departure.
This was in the dark bar on the botoom floor of the hotel. Several members of the group had gathered there for some 'buy one, get one free' Beijing draft opportunity. We, the Americans were noisy... I had gone down there to chat some more with with E---, but as she became engaged with a couple of others, I instead came to know Eugene (originally from Ukraine and whose real name I cannot pronounce), Garry (who had also been bent on teaching English and studying Japanese through the JET Programme, but was some reason rejected), and Maria (who was also originally from abroad, Puerto Rico). In my free second draft stupor, I expounded generalized observations about Japanese psychology, Chinese-Japanese relations, language (of course), and a couple of other points of interest, and had to work to reserve myself to listen to their stories as well -- it is amazing to me how active my mouth can be once it is loosened. I then went to bed, head spinning but mostly happy, with a book of Chinese grammar in my restless hands.
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