We
were told before coming to China that we would encounter numerous situations
and experiences that would be frustrating and likely maddening at times. These frustrating moments would come and go
living in a country where you can’t speak or read the language and where the
culture is vastly different from your own.
It
was also suggested to us to look at the many ‘frustrating’ experiences yet to
come as ‘fascinating’ experiences instead.
And so the term stuck. We have
repeated amongst the eight of us, time and time again, how wonderfully
‘fascinating’ some moments and days are.
When something is going awry we often smile across the way at each other
and talk about how ‘fascinating’ it is!
And
so…..I will share with you my ‘fascinating’ day of travel.
The
boys and I traveled to Xian to do some sightseeing during a long weekend. (Eric
needed to study for classes he is taking this summer in the US) Xian is 4 hours by bus from our city and we
were excited to see the infamous Terracotta Warriors, the Muslim Quarter, and
much more.
We
were headed back to our city from Xian on a Monday morning. I had to teach at the school from 2:40
p.m.-6:10 p.m. Our bus left at 9am and
would arrive in Shiyan at 1pm. It’s then
45 minutes on another bus to the school.
That would give me nearly 1 hour to change, eat and head to class. Perfect scheduling if I do say so myself.
I
am a meticulous planner when traveling so as to lessen the mishaps. I had asked our hostel staff to call ahead to
confirm the location of the bus station and write it down for me. It was an obscure little station and I was
worried that a taxi driver wouldn’t be able to find it. They got the needed info and so I had my bus
ticket which had the bus station’s location on it as well as the paper written
by the hostel staff. It was fail proof. Right?
May
13th 06:30-Up and at ‘em. We
woke up, had breakfast, finished packing and checked out of our hostel
07:30-Stood
on the street to catch a taxi with our trusty handwritten paper to guide the
taxi driver. It is a 45 minute drive to
get to the bus station. We had an hour
and ½ before our bus’s departure.
08:05-We
waited and waited and waited for a taxi to no avail. How can a huge city have so few taxis? Every taxi we saw either already had
passengers or were flagged down just before us by others waiting. I even resorted to putting Brinson on a
different corner than Aiden and I to wave down taxis going the opposite
direction. No luck. I was getting quite nervous now knowing that
I only had 55 minutes until our bus left and the drive itself was 45
minutes. Missing our bus didn’t feel like
an option b/c we would have to pay for our bus tickets again and I needed to be
back to teach my classes and had no time to spare. (The next bus would leave about 2 hours
later)
I
was getting desperate.
As
we continued trying to wave down taxis that passed us by with happy passengers
in them, a motorcycle pulled up. In that
moment every bone in the body of this nurse, mother, daughter, sister and wife
screamed DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. I’m
pretty much anti-motorcycles. My first
week here I witnessed a horrible scene of a motorcycle accident victim lying
next to his bike with blood pouring out of his head and a group of about 50
people standing in a circle staring at him.
I
couldn’t fathom this situation where it felt like my only logical choice was to
ride on one of these death machines (Sorry to all of the motorcycle fans out
there). No seatbelts, no helmets, no
cushion between me and the ground. UGH!
After
talking to him in my scant and broken Chinese I communicated where I needed to
go and that I needed 2 motorcycles to carry all 3 of us. He waived down a motorcycle buddy and we
worked out an astronomical price (I didn’t have time for bargaining at this
point).
Then
I proceeded to act out that I wanted the motorcycles to ride together and that
I didn’t want to crash, fall and/or die.
I think they thought I was funny.
But I wasn’t laughing nor was I being funny.
They seemed to agree to all of my dramatized stipulations and agreed that they knew
where the bus station was. They needed
the boys together on one and me on the other.
“Dear Lord, please get us ALL there and ALL safely”. I wrapped my arms around his middle and held
on for my life. I demonstrated for the
boys how to hold on too (hoping the men weren’t ticklish) like this. My driver kindly turned around and moved my
arms from his midsection and onto the tops of his shoulders. I then told the boys to do the same. Off we went.
As we sped along I made a quick call to Eric to pray that we survive the
long ride.
Our
drivers stuck right together just as I had somehow managed to ask. Thankfully I didn’t have to worry about
that! I glanced over many times to see
the boys smiling ear to ear, giggling and taking in the sights.
“Mom,
why aren’t you having fun?” Brinson shouted to me. I told them I was scared to death and that
I’d smile when we arrive.
As
we weaved in and out of huge buses, taxis, parked cars, bicyclist, and
pedestrians, I kept praying.
08:35
a.m. Finally we arrived, intact. I
snapped a quick photo and they motioned where to go in.
Upon
entering I was met quickly with a frown and an adamant statement that I was at
the wrong bus station.
You
must be kidding me. Hurriedly, I asked
if she could write down where I needed to go so I could attempt to find a taxi
(again).
She
led me to a smoke filled room, with men in uniforms lounging around with their
feet propped up, to borrow a pen to write instructions down. (I didn’t have a pen and neither did
she).
They
looked at me like I had three heads and discussed among themselves my problem
and if anyone had a pen. A young man
emerged from the back and quickly motioned to me that he would take me in his
personal car to the right station. This
sort of thing happens routinely in China- people quick to help the
foreigner. We’d never even consider this
in many parts of America but, as counterintuitive as it seems, China is much
safer in this regard.
Oh
boy, there’s no telling what this guy is going to charge me, I thought. I asked him and he said nothing. What!?
Wow—he is an angel!
As
we crept along in traffic, he called a friend asking for directions.
08:50
a.m.—At last ……10 minutes before departure he pulled in to the correct bus
station. Then I breathlessly hurried our
luggage out of his car. I had decided
that culturally it would be inappropriate for me to hug him, although I wanted
to. We said in Chinese, “Thank you very much
friend” and I snapped one more photo.
We
made it –in the nick of time.
But…..our
bus ended up being delayed and leaving at 10 a.m. instead of 9 a.m. All that craziness for nothing! ‘Fascinating’.
This
will cut my arrival home time extremely short to make it to my classes to
teach.
We
stopped at a rest stop at 12:00. I decided
on a type of Ramen noodles, bought my bowl, put hot water in it and hurried
back to the bus to enjoy my lunch. I was
actually going to savor this bowl of noodles b/c I was pretty hungry by this
time.
As
I climbed onto the bus the attendant told me I couldn’t eat the noodles on the
bus. At this point, I may or may not
have huffed onto the bus, irritated and upset that I had to throw away the
uneaten lunch I just bought and prepared (and was really looking forward to
eating). Great –no lunch today.
I
sat back down and continued listening to our book on tape with the boys. The story of Corrie Ten Boom. Well that put me right in my place. How ridiculous of me to pout over my noodles
after reading a story such as hers.
Shame on me.
Thank
you Father for our safety, for ‘fascinating’ days and experiences, and for your
extravagant love. And for noodles of
course.
Note
to self: next time take the 7:30 bus.
2:30
p.m.-I pulled up to the school, Eric practically threw a ½ PBJ sandwich and my
books at me and I hurried off to teach.
2:38
p.m.-Arrived in my class with 2 minutes to spare. Ah…sigh….What a day.
2:40
p.m.-Hoping I don’t have peanut butter on my face I smile and tell the 47
smiling faces looking back at me “Good Afternoon”!
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