Cycling on Halloween
Trip Start
Unknown
1
9
11
Trip End
Ongoing
Beijing,
Beijing,
China
Sunday, November 8, 2009
The other week my Grandparents' friend, Mr. Judge came to Beijing on business. I was eager to see my pre-China-departure mentor and ready to bully him into coming to the Tibetan restaurant. I made my way to his side of town, on a Sunday. Being with Americans again was a bit of a shock. Having doors opened for me again by men, going to an Italian restaurant… eating with a fork… its all so surreal. But in all honesty- the worst of all was trying to eat the pasta with a fork. (I had to fight back the urge to request chopsticks, or eat in the Chinese manner of grasping the bowl and tilting the bowl/slurping your way to the bottom.) The informal way of eating here has really grown on me, and trying to "eat pretty" was no small chore after two months of shoveling food about with a pair of chopsticks
slight curves
. (Chopsticks can be used with grace, or with unabashed veracity of food shoveling… guess which method I prefer?) During the dinner, I met Caitlin, a wonderful girl in the company who also studied Chinese in Beijing, and (the more we talked the more I discovered) is rather similar to myself. I took to Caitlin, and quickly found another cohort in the Tibetan scheme- we decided to venture to the restaurant on Thursday. If I liked this place the first time, the second time was even better. Tibetan serenades, yak tongue, yak meat, free scarves, and live music- I believe I have found the recipe for happiness. We ordered far too much, we ate far too much- and a stomach full of yak tongue, yak meat, and other such novelties is a dangerous stomach to say the least. We were even treated to what I am guessing was a Tibetan danyen performance- a percussion-esque instrument with a haunting and entrancing sound, especially with the musician is playing a classical-tibetan fusion piece like some sorta rock star. And then, came the dancing. Before the dinner, Caitlin and I talked of how we couldn’t wait to dance, but when the time came, it was Judge who was on the floor first. As I recall, we tripped, stomped, waved, and span our way about the restaurant- doing our best to imitate the others. However, our dancing must have been some kind of something as it was enough to earn us all scarves from the staff
one of the more scenic views
. At one point, a Chinese man took a picture of the dancing “lao wais” (slang name for foreigner)- I then demanded he join us and dance. (he did) Sometime between spins and steps, Judge snuck back to the table to take some pictures… During the course of that particular week, I had unwittingly signed myself up for what was then becoming a bicycle death trek through the mountainside. The plan was for two friends to join me on the ride, and to spend Friday afternoon getting gear, renting bicycles, and all in general merriment.
Needless to say the plan failed, as mine often due. There was no merriment as I found myself across town, alone, with an ominous weather forecast, and lacking warm clothes, bicycle knowledge, any sense of direction, or even a bicycle… all of which seem to be the standard requirements for these sorts of endeavors.
My meager morale took a beating; as the afternoon turned into a series of misadventures. I was overwhelmed and in poor humor, (not to mention cold and wet as it was raining) when I finally met up with Caitlin. We went to Yashou [a foreigners’ shopping paradise-maze; with knock-off North Face, Columbia, silk, shoes, tea, electronics etc]
more of the golden-brown
. My main mission was to stalk up on bike-related gear, seeing as I had no shoes or gloves, and the weather was calling for 0 C, wind, and rain. We bargained, we wandered, and after we made our way into a local hole-in-the wall jiao zi [dumpling] restaurant where we spent a good hour amidst stories and dumplings. Caitlin turned my night around, and improved my disposition. One of my favorite quips was when she explained how she viewed life in Beijing- “its like you divorce your life in America”, something which, being here, makes complete sense. [And it would take another entry entirely to try to explain that.] Afterwards there was the ten minute wait in the pouring rain, taxi battles, and cab-dashing back to Caitlin’s hotel. (Mr. Judge had left early Friday morning, and as the evening closed I was sad to see them both go… and anxious about how far my Florida legs would get me on a 60km bike ride in the Beijing mountainside)
The next morning began with a 6:00 am taxi cab ride, fetching my bike, and meeting my first friend… who then informed me I had a flat tire. If the flat tire isn’t enough to make you anxious, then a peleton of Lance Armstrong look-a-likes will. As I tried to blend in with a nearby tree, it became painfully clear to me, that:
- I was out of my league
- I knew nothing of bikes
- I knew nothing of proper cycling
- I needed more spandex
note the pagoda
. The riders were nice, fit, lively, and altogether intimidating bunch. They all had on their snazzy helmets, I opted for an FSU beanie, and let my helmet carry my water bottle; they had snazzy biking jerseys and special biking shoes, I had black market new balances, and some knock off swiss company jacket that Caitlin and I had bargained down the night before. Everything about me screamed rookie-and there, there was the flat tire that beaconed to the masses, “here is a cycling neophyte… judge her”. My stomach was doing butterflies at the idea of having to navigate my way though countryside with a rough-skewn map, especially given my ineptitude at anything requiring navigation We all crammed into a Jinbei (mini-bus) and with the change of scenery my morale improved. Lucky for me, these people had no expectations on my part, and as the only beginner, I was left to stumble about at my own pace. The head guy placed two x’s on my map, and I blessed him for choosing a winding road, with no turns- one where I would bike 20 km and then turn around. I ate an apple, grabbed some water, and was on my way. The weather was picturesque- clear, calm, serene, blue, and of a decent temperature – a rather happy, if not lucky circumstance, as it snowed on the day after.
As I wound my way down the path, I pedaled through villages, past pumpkins gutted in the sun, past trees with leaves so bright I could’ve sworn I was in the fake flowers isle at Michaels… There was no traffic, the villages- although not exactly the picture of quaint, had a beauty in their abandonment, had an allure in the faces of the older generation with their Zhongshan suits (Mao suits)- quietly picking their way along the country road
there are no words
. It was Halloween, and I was pedaling about in the Chinese countryside- I felt absolutely sensational. The air was crisp, the scenery provoking, and I was at peace… several hills later I came across one of the riders sitting by the side of the road and gazing out into the valley. I approached her cautiously, not wanting to intrude, but also in dire need of how to change the gears on my mystery machine- the slight inclines of the hills were growing painful. The lady, Ines, patiently explained the logistics, and fixed my bike- apparently the chain was about to fall off. We struck up a conversation, she was writing a speech and had done tricks on bikes before, and we ended up coasting down the curves of a mountainside.Mountain coasting is enthralling, its exhilarating, and I am pretty sure Ines thought I was crazy when I looked at her in a way too giddy manner, exclaiming 'that hill’ was one of the “funnest” things I had done in Beijing. Half the excitement was flying around blind curves on a bike that with questionable breaks. In respect to how people drive in the mountains here (rarely their designated lane, or slow, or cautious) the whole thing was an adrenaline rush. Around every blind corner and turn was the chance of encounter with a rogue mountain driver, who in all odds, was going to be in my lane, or in the middle of the road.
There’s not much else to say, I pedaled, I gazed about, I snapped some pictures, and the hill that gave me such pleasure on the way down, was nothing short of a pain in the ass to go back up
one of the many towns
. Everyone’s pride has a breaking point- and as I was in the process of deliberating walking my bike back up this face of the mountain, I heard voices behind me. Of course, the rest of the cycling group, with their respective 100km and 80km circuits, had already caught me at the hill. As a matter of principle I refused to walk, but this didn’t stop me from stopping. I drank water, and watched with satisfaction as some small motorcycles had to be walked up the hill, while many trucks putted by at a ridiculously slow rate. I may not be a tenured cyclist, but it is still a success when I can climb hills that a small motorcycle cannot. Other than that life here has been on the tame side. I went with some friends to an all you can eat Japanese restaurant… it doesn’t take much imagination or guesswork to figure how that turned out.
I almost went postal, when a boy at my school Spartan-kicked a girl for opening the door to the classroom he was trying to lock me out of. (long, and altogether unpleasant story)
I’ve made friends with a couple of guys from Uganda- and for those of us who think all of Uganda is what we see in “Invisible Children”… it isn’t. The country has more to offer, is more prosperous, and I sounded a bit ridiculous when I couldn’t offer more knowledge of Uganda beyond the LRA… Other than that, I’ve managed to lose my cell phone, do a bit of baking for the family, and I have organized my first motorcycle lesson with a 黑车 (illegal taxi) driver. I managed to make friends with one of the motorcyclists, and set up a lesson.
Tomorrow, five o’clock. I’m excited.
