In Search of Sunrise

China Predepature, Day One, Day Two

I left Kawaura around five in the evening after haphazardly stuffing my suitcase with whatever recommended items I was able to recall: diarrhea medicine, cold medicine, chap stick, tissues, long underwear, the world’s supply of socks for layering, et cetra. Later, I would discover that I forgot the all-important toilet paper, an absolute necessity when braving the horrors of Chinese public bathrooms. The drive to Misumi proved to be shorter than usual. Usually, the trip from Kawaura out of Amakusa to Misumi is generally two hours, three if there is really bad traffic in the central city of Hondo, but during this one specific trip, it only took me about an hour and a half! This was indeed fortuitous for me, especially since the radio in my car doesn’t work. In Misumi, I met up with my traveling companion and second mother, Mother Hen. Although she may be two years my junior, Mother Hen has no problems telling me what to do and how to do it. However, I am a pushover in many ways, and have no problems allowing other people to do things for me.

In many ways Misumi is like Kawaura; there is nothing of interest to note, but there is a train station, which does put Misumi on the map, albeit it is only a very small dot. However, in all honesty, nobody would take the train INTO Misumi; people take the train OUT of Misumi.

After one transfer at Kumamoto Station to an express train bound for Hakata, followed by a subway ride, and a bus trip to the international airport, Mother Hen and I arrived at Fukuoka Airport, where we met Gwennie, the final member of our traveling trio. We were one step closer to one step closer to China!

Day One in China wasn’t so much a day as a series of bad experiences, followed by a blur. But first let me take this moment to say that Japanese in-flight service is 1000 times better than American; Chinese in-flight service is 750 times better than American. I am thinking that anything is better than American in-flight service; in fact, I am willing to bet that American flights have the worst service in the world. I will never forget that moldy cheese sandwich that those nasty attendants gave me for lunch, and would not replace.

But I digress… Chinese airlines are not bad at all. The only scary thing is what seems to be the mandatory layover to perform a customs check. We had an hour layover in some place called Dahlia. I am not eager to ever return there. On the way into China we stopped there in the dead of night. The airport was empty and the only personnel around were Communist guards in full uniform. And, of course, as I filled out my customs declaration, a middle-aged Chinese businessman came up next to me, and in the most unabashed manner possible, let loose a most audible fart as if to say, “Welcome to China!” Indeed I was in China.

After that layover, we journeyed one hour more, and then finally arrived in Beijing around seven in the evening. As soon as we left the terminal, the three of us were accosted by several “Taxi” men offering us a ride. Mother Hen eyed them from the side, in that discerning manner that all hens do, then proceeded to peck their eyes out. As I was to be informed later, China is full of audaciously unscrupulous people, always willing to offer you something too good to be true… Such people are found the world over, but they are much more pushy in China. That being said, we found a real taxi outside willing to give us a ride to our hotel. Of course, when I say “ride,” I mean something more akin to Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, or rather I felt as sick after riding in that taxi, as I would have from that ride. And that was Day One in China. By the time we arrived at our hotel it was already 8:30 pm.

Day Two was much more eventful. We awoke to a snow-blanketed Beijing. Mother Hen expressed her immense joy at the sight. Gwennie and I were perhaps much less impressed. For Gwennie, being from Chicago, it was snow, not unlike the snow in Chicago. For me, being from California, snow was something foreign — and therefore — something to FEAR!!! Or rather, something that was going to make me freeze my ass off even more.

After breakfast we followed Mother Hen around the streets of Beijing who told us were going to the Pearl Market. Gwennie and I had to take her word; we didn’t know where we were — foreign country or otherwise, we lack a sense of direction.

Eventually, we reached the Pearl Market. It smelled. Bad. The bottom floor stunk of raw fish. Bleach permeated the second floor. The third floor smelled the way a cheap department store like Mervyn’s would. The fourth floor was relatively stink-free. As for what the Pearl Market actually is, it is basically like a bazaar of sorts, complete with pushy sales people grabbing at you, latching onto you, and screaming at you to buy their goods, which range from anything to underwear to pashminas to ipods to various trinkets. If you are not a stupid foreigner who agrees to whatever ridiculous price the vendors “offer” to you, it is entirely possible to get a real bargain at the Pearl Market. I made no purchases here, but Mother Hen came away from this place with many pashminas and a pearl or two.

Following our trip to the Pearl Market we stopped by the Temple of Heaven on our way back to the hotel. It was our first REAL tourist stop. There were many native Chinese who were simply “hanging” out on the temple grounds, dancing, playing instruments, and singing many old sings, perhaps to keep warm. We were stopped by a family who wanted to converse in English. When asked where we were from. The answer was simple: Canada. These days it’s not safe to be American abroad. But I shant turn this into a politcal blog.

The Temple of Heaven was an amazing place. From what little I read about the place, while I was there, it was the where the emperor went to “worship” the gods. He did this, of course, by slaughtering various farm animals, and setting things on the fire. Ah, the good ol’ days.

The temple grounds were enormous and unless you are a particularly patient person, it is impossible to really see the entirety of the temple. From what I did see that was not already covered in snow, the temple is beautifully detailed and designed, albeit the color choices can be somewhat gaudy I’ve noticed. The architecture is what I really do like though.

However, it is rather difficult for me to explain what the architecture is like since I am no expert. Certainly, “it’s pretty,” is not enough. However, that’s why God made cameras, or rather why humans created cameras - to capture in time what we cannot articulate in words.

As we walked the temple grounds it began to snow a little more. I was surprised to notice that snowflakes actually looked like snowflakes. I never knew that they actually are shaped like that. Most take it for granted, but for someone who had never experienced real snow up until that day, it was a semi-enlightening experience. My world became a bit larger in that moment.

If either Mother Hen or Gwennie feel I’ve missed something, please feel free to comment.

Later this week, China Day Three, Day Four