I'm Seeing Red

WARNING: This entry will be epic.



C H I N A

To begin. How to begin? What to tell? Though I was only in China for three days (well techinically four days, but we flew out at 8:30 Tuesday morning, so that doesn't count), it seems like a month. Like time was compressed. Indeed we saw so many things in such a short time, that time must have paused and let us slide by. Shall I say that the tour was wonderful? I had never imagined myself to be that person on that tour bus. So I should say that it was everything I had hoped and nothing that I feared. I should say that about everything Chinese.

China has been a dream of mine for some time now. That dream that sits quietly like sand beneath the sea. I didn't know what to expect, but my expectations were high none the less. I don't know quite what it is about that great state that intrigues me. Perhaps its the utter foreigness of it. Its past rejection of Western (familiar) ideals. Its ageless history. Its recent turmoil. Its sheer epic nature. Its mystery. Its beauty.

I don't know what combination of these things made me fall in love even from a great distance. I fell in love with the idea of China, long before I knew China at all.

I couldn't help but fear that these hopes would be dashed like timber against the cliffs of reality. Let's be honest, three days on a tour bus during the new years holiday is hardly 'reality.' I don't pretend to 'know' China by any means. But nonetheless my first glimpse was only favorable.

I fell in love with Beijing.
I saw
THE SIGHTS
Temple of Heaven:


The Forbidden City:

The Summer Palace:


The Great Wall:



As awesome as these were. As much as they met and exceeded every expectation. They were not the reason that I loved Beijing

I saw
THE SHOWS

Kung Fu show: I watched little boys do backflips on their heads. I saw a man balance himself on three uplifted spear heads.

Acrobatic Show: I saw twelve women ride one bicycle, I saw men leap throw hoops twelve feet in the air, I saw one woman juggle another on her feet.

I saw
The Markets

The Silk Market: I purchased a little red book dated 1966.6.1. Do you know when the Cultural Revolution started? May 16th 1966. This is the first edition.


I purchased an old chinese medium format camera.


I purchased some chopsticks, a commy bag, some Mao pins, a couple insects, and some cheap souvenirs.

The Other Market: I purchased a pair of knockoff Chuck Taylors, a pair of knockoff Ray Bans, and a set of porcelain chopsticks.

Got pretty good at hangling, I think.
But...

These aren't these reasons I loved Beijing. The reason I loved Beijing was the people. Perhaps my interactions were few and incidental. The man who smiled when I took a picture of his little daughter, the twins in matching pink jackets, the porter who helped us figure out how to get downtown by the subway and then went outside and hailed us a cab even though he knew we didn't have any money to tip him, Duan the tour guide, the girl who sold us the cameras, every baby with split open pants so they could defecate in public.

* * *

The smog was so thick, that buildings faded to ghosts. Their was a cinematic sense of immediacy, a looming presence of mystery. The smog held us like a floating island in the clouds. We were a 16 million person ship floating across the sea of industrialism. The smog invaded even the subways. Thick and harsh. My throat still burns.

* * *

She pointed at me from her booth. I had just left minutes earlier, my wallet empty and in my bag a new (old) toy to play with. A medium format Chinese camera. The kind that would cost a hundred dollars at least. I was giddy to get it even if it was broken (though I doubted that). I had just left, when I spotted another object I had been keeping my eyes out for: real insects molded in clear plastic. But I didn't have any money I said. "American dollar?" she replied. I shook my head. "Korean Won?" I asked. I had 12000 (appr. $12) stored in my pouch for the cab home when we returned the next day. She nodded. She would take won. As I began digging for my won, I discovered a folded wad of bills. My extra RMB (chinese currency)! I still had quite a lot of money. So I purchased two insects. Having made the mistake of showing interest, I was unable to talk her down as much as I would have liked and walked off with two insects for about $30. Perhaps a little steep, but still cheaper than if I had bought them at the government run store.

It was then that she pointed at me, and began shouting "Liar! You lie!" But she didn't seem angry. Not geniunely. Other venders turned to see what the commotion was about. You see I had just purchased that camera with the very last of my money. We had agreed on 450 for two cameras. But when we were only able to scrap together 440, she let us keep them anyway, after we promised her it was the very last of our money.

I fully intended to pay her back when I found the rest of my money. Yes, how honest of me. But besides that, I liked the girl. And I couldn't wait to return and display my nobility. She had a charming way about her. The way she laughed at me for buying a torn up, worthless poster, and then went and wrapped it up for me. The way she smiled while we haggled about the price, and confessed that these cameras were broken and probably didn't work. And now the way she stomped, feigning anger with me. She stepped out and grabbed my index finger with hers. "You lie," she said, "you have money." But she saw the humor. "I found the money," I said, "I lost it and now I found it. I'll pay you. I'll be back to pay you." "I believe you," she said, "because if you wanted to, you could have left."

"Do you know what time it is?" David asked.

"5:00," she said.

"Shit we're late!"

We were supposed to meet our group at 5:00. So I ended up buying some Mao pins from her and a little kneeling soldier and giving her my last 100. I'm not worried about overpaying her. I liked her, you see.

It's possible she was just selling me...

But maybe not. Maybe I'll write her a letter. I'll include a photo I take with the new camera.



* * *

We stood one of the intersections we passed. All the intersections were as wide as a football field. Or seemed to be. They must be made for driving tanks. Explosions were basting above our heads. Echos could be heard in every direction. Light bubbles burst over the buildings. Booming light ricochets off car windshields and skyscraper windows.



It must be midnight. The noise is hurting my ears. We can't hear our voices.

Fireworks have only been legalized the last two years. So this night is almost as unique for the Chinese as it is for us. The night is aglow with flowering explosions. Every second without pause, continuously for an hour at least.

We left eventually when there was still no sign of letting up.

I know the fireworks were finished by 4 am, because the lights randomly turned on in our hotel room and I woke up to silence and David standing by the window checking to make sure the Nazis weren't invading.

* * *



We wandered around Tiananmen Square at night. Searching for the downtown district we knew was close, but never found. It was after midnight, the air glowed red. The smog and lights cast a peculiar haze over everything. It didn't seem real.

It took some doing to get here, seeing as we had almost no money, having spent our last cent (literally) at the silk market. We had to borrow money from Katrina and Sarah just to make it out here. We weren't certain that we had enough money to return.

The friendly porter at the hotel helped us find the right subway line and hailed a cab for us, telling him where to take us. When he dropped us off, we began wandering, distracted by some odd glowing sphers, and the taxi driver became concerned and pointed at the subway station, saying something in Chinese. "Shaishai," we said, nodding. But he wouldn't leave until we began walking towards it.

We managed the subway alright. Everything was written in Chinese and Roman characters. We rode all three lines to get to Tiananmen Square. The subway was almost empty. We rode the last line out.

Tiananmen Square is the largest square in the world. It is the center of New China, built at the entrance to The Forbidden City, the center of Old China. It is world famous for this photograph (A photograph that few in China have ever seen):

Taken during this incident (our tour guide refered to it as the Tiananmen Square 'Accident', as it is recorded in Chinese history books).

The square is deserted. Filled with tourists during the day, it now is silent, a palour of smog blanketing it. We don't try to go in.

The guards eye us curiously. Why would we take a picture of that tree? Most of them look like boys. Younger than me. High school age. Marching around in official green overcoats and caps. Oddly though they don't seem overly imposing, despite the fact that they are everywhere. At every sight, at the markets, at the hotel, at the restaurant, at random street corners. Everywhere. Apparently the don't carry guns. They didn't seem menacing. I didn't mind them at all.

A group of girls walk past us as we try to photograph moving bicycles. "Ni hao!" I call out, feeling that odd electricity that night brings. "Ni hao!" They call back, giggling. We walk vaguely in the same direction down the deserted sidewalk. They occassionally glance back and giggle. We each hope the other says something else. But we don't and they don't. I spend the rest of the evening wishing I had tried to say more to them. I should've tried out my Chinese phrase, translated, "you're not a hero until you climb the great wall."

We never find downtown, just wander aimlessly. Smoking cigarettes and taking pictures. At 1:30 am we decide it's time to head to the hotel. I hail a cab and we hand him the hotel card. He nods and begins to drive. We have to wake at 5 am to catch our flight back to Korea.

* * *

The feeling upon entering China was a welcoming back to the real world. Having left Korea, China seemed much more like planet Earth. Socially more lax, more attractive architecture, wider streets, foreign cars (including an abundance of Jettas), more open people, non-spicy food. It all seemed so much more familiar (though it was not). Korea, I realized, was a strange place. Full of oddities I had slowly grown accustomed to and accepted. I had not even realized how much I had mistake Korea for reality.

I think travel has the potential of polarizing one against ones permanent environment, for it forces you to reexamine your surroundings. Travel displays that there is another way, another possibility. Often the new way seems preferable.

That's how I felt while in China.

I don't hate Korea, or Daegu, or my job like many people do. I don't complain about it like other people do. But I'm not going to rave about how wonderful Daegu is, because it's not from what I've seen. But nor is it terrible. It's simply ok, but that's something to build upon.

When I returned from China, I felt just as strange, but in a different way. It was teh first time I had returned from a foreign country to another foreign country. Suddenly Korea was home. I was returning home from vacation. Suddenly Daegu was familiar, Korean was familiar, people were familiar. I experienced a shifted paradigm. No longer was I under the America paradigm, now Korea was the standard. It was a very odd realization. I felt at home and comfortable. I felt like I could understand Korean, though I could not. I felt like I was at home.

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Thank you for reading.

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