On the day that Julius and I left the hostel, we hauled our three bags each (two suitcase-ish items and a backpack) into the street to wait for a cab to take us to 首经贸大学 (also known as CUEB). We left the hostel at around four thinking we had a good hour and a half to catch a taxi and get to the dorm in time for dinner, but it wasn’t until 8:30 when we actually arrived.
We waited on the side of the road for taxi and while more than one hundred came by, none of them stopped for us. Of those that drove past us, about seventy percent had people in them. Our more positive theories suggest that they thought we were going to the airport.
After about forty minutes of waiting, we gave up and decided to walk to a half mile to Tiananmen Square where there would be more cabs.
After stopping several times along the way, we made it to Tiananmen. After watching us for several minutes, an old man came up to us and in his thick Chinese accent said, “Hello. Where are you from?”
Our reaction to him requires a little bit of background. Earlier in the week, Julius and I were tricked in one of those tea scams. As “very clever” Yale students (a poor translation of 聪明 which Chinese people love), we thought ourselves impervious to con-artistry. As it turns out, we’re actually pretty stupid. We were walking in Old Beijing when man and his ‘sister’ claiming to be from 西安 said the same line: “Hello. Where are you from?” I was tired and cranky so I lied and claimed to be from Germany (I can’t speak English or Chinese!), but Julius, ever eager to make Chinese friends, told them we were actually from America. They took us to a “very famous tea house” from their guidebook, which they obsessively read because it was also their “first time in Beijing.” He said he’d buy us tea, but instead asked to split the bill with us. We stupidly said yes and then realized our half of the bill was about 150 dollars. At least it was good tea.
When the old man came up to us with the same greeting, Julius blatantly ignored him while I told him we were trying to catch a cab, but nobody would pick us up. He told us it would be easier back towards the hostel. Frustrated, I called Bow to ask him how to take the subway. He told us to get off at 大王路 and catch a cab.
Nothing compares to the rush hour crowds on the Chinese subway. When the train came, it looked like an overstuffed toy box, where some little kid has put just few too many action figures. Determined to get on, we shoved our way onto the train.
Chinese commuters have no conception of full. Though our car was packed, at the next stop, several people jumped from the platform and bounced off the impenetrable crowd. At one point, I saw one girl lying on the floor, hanging on to my suitcase for dear life. When we had to get off, Julius said, “Scream 下车 and push.” We then swam through the crown onto the platform.
After about an hour of waiting for a cab, a Chinese woman, who had been standing with us the whole time, surprised us by saying, “Are you trying to get a taxi? Pay attention. You’ve missed three already.”
No matter how many English-speaking Chinese people I meet, I’m shocked to realize that some people can understand me. She tried to help us catch a cab, but we were equally unsuccessful. She told us she was getting a ride and wanted to offer us one, but she had two dogs in her back seat. I said, “It’s okay” but she said, “So, would you like a ride?” I let Julius decide.
We looked in the back seat and stared in the eyes of a golden retriever and a husky, but we were desperate so we crammed into her back seat with our luggage and started driving. Curious, the golden retriever stared at us, panting heavily.
I definitely think the worst part of China is the bad breath. I imagine it has something to do with the food and the pollution, but however bad people’s breath may be, nothing compares to that dog. I swear that Julius’s face curled up so quickly, I thought he was evaporating.
The husky quickly realized we liked the other dog and wanted some attention for himself, so he climbed on top of Julius and (accidentally? purposefully?) placed his paw on Julius’s groin, at which he yelped (Julius, not the dog). The dog was moving and shedding and feeling up Julius and then it started barking loudly. The lady told us he doesn’t bite. The dog stopped barking and Julius whispered “Oh my god Adam, the dog is licking my nipple” This lasted a while. After feeling little reciprocation, the dog just licked at Julius’s head for a couple minutes.
We drove from the subway to 首经贸大学, a total of four blocks, which took about twenty minutes in rush hour traffic. After what seemed like an eternity, we got out of the car, but were so crammed that when the lady opened the child-locked door, I spilled out onto the sidewalk. I gave her the traditional American thank you present of a comic book where Obama teams up with Spiderman to save inauguration. She looked at me puzzled and said thank you.
We entered the double doors, ready to learn Chinese.
No comments:
Post a Comment