Finding a Purpose

You could describe a trip like mine as being a tourist for 10 months, and that wouldn't be too far from the truth. But because a 10 month vacation sounds rich and lazy, I've been trying to find some excuse so I can say I got more out of my time than simply sightseeing.

The fruit of my labour is a "3 steps to success" plan. I've worked hard at this so in future job interviews, when asked what I did for the last year, I can say, "I gained valuable life skills!" instead of relating the story of how I chipped my tooth with a beer bottle in Uruguay. It's hard to believe, but small details like that can make the difference between being hired to do computer work (what company doesn't like a person with life skills?) and being hired to recruit for a college frat house. I plan to produce a full-colour illustrated guide in the future, but have decided to give my loyal readers an early glimpse at my secrets. Without further ado, the steps are:

1. Get on a moving vehical with something to sell. It doesn't matter what type of vehicle. I've seen this on buses all over South America, and now on a train in China. This technique is effective worldwide.


2. In your loudest possible voice — I'm talking so loud that people will pay you just to shut up — proclaim to the world why what you have in your hand is the best only one-of-a-kind thing being sold anywhere in the world and you'd be a fool not to buy it right here and pass up such a great deal so hand over your money folks and welcome to your new better life.


3. Perform your trick. This is the key part. The salesman on my train was poking holes in socks with tweezers and people seemed to be impressed. Don't ask me why, as putting tweezers through socks doesn't tend to be part of my daily routine. You could probably sell carrots by trying to write with one on a markerboard and showing that the colour doesn't rub off. As long as you do it with gusto it doesn't matter what your trick is.

That's all there is to it. Pass out your product so all the passengers can try writing on windows and chairs too, then go round and collect your fortune.

Here's a hint to get started: while flight attendants sell duty-free on planes, they haven't yet mastered this approach so I consider flights a wide open market. Try it on your next one.

Heading South

Before I got on the train to Guiyang, I was dreading the prospect of 26 hours on a hard straight-back seat. With no other classes of travel available, I had no choice but to book it to get where I want to go in south China. I climbed on at the platform in Xian, the only foreigner in a carriage full of Chinese. Even if I hadn't had a hiking pack on my back so full it towered over my head, all eyes would have been on me. But the situation being what it was, there was no getting around my role at center stage. I stowed my pack and sat down with the bowls of instant noodles and fruit that I had packed for the trip, doing my best to ignore the attention. Next time I think I might give a wave and shake a few hands as I walk down the aisle, like a politician at a fundraiser.

It's coming up to nighttime and soon I'll be wishing for the sleeper I took on my last train journey from Beijing to Xian. It was extremely comfortable and the announcement as we left the station informed me the train would "run like flowing water." I didn't hear that over the PA system this time.

But for now I'm happy where I am. The people are friendly, and since all trash goes out the window it's pretty clean. People do hack up phlegm and spit it on the floor, but I passed on the suggestion from some other travelers to take sleeping pills so I don't plan on stretching out there. The only complaint I have is that unlike trains in India, you can't sit in an open doorway and watch the world pass by.

The Great Wall

Several days before leaving Beijing I visited the Great Wall. Like a lot of other things in this country, the scale of it is immense. As I was standing in the cold and misty winter grey looking at it wind its way up and over steep hills, I couldn't help but wonder how insane you would have to be to order such a huge construction covering hundreds of miles just to keep people out. I realised I was thinking aloud when the Belgian I was traveling with replied, "And now the U.S. wants to build a wall to keep out Mexicans."

"Touché," I thought, and laughed.

Losing Control

I don't like not being able to speak at least a few words in the language of the country I'm visiting. Granted, I never learnt anything in Finland apart from the essential curse words, but given the no-smile policy in effect throughout stores in that country, it didn't seem to matter if I said "perkele" instead of whatever the Finnish word for "thanks" is when handing over cash at the register.

Playing the part of the English-only tourist is something I will need to accept here in China. I'm not one to pick up a language without serious studying, especially one as difficult as Chinese. If there's anything good about the situation, it's that it's helping me learn to embrace uncertainty. Traveling isn't something that comes naturally to me - it's been a constant process of learning to leave things to chance. The less I am able to plan ahead of time, the more I can relax and enjoy the experience. Failures are frustrating, but when I do manage to, for example, make my own way to a historic underground tomb using local buses, it's a satisfying success.

Something Unexpected

If the children I've seen playing in the street are any indication, badminton is popular in Beijing. I don't know why I find it surprising - maybe because I always imagined that the only people who play badminton have names like Percy or Cecil, and grew up attending posh schools in England set on large Victorian estates with extensive lawns, and wear bright white shoes with socks up to their knees when playing.

Then again, my mind should be a bit more open after Peru. I certainly didn't expect to come across kids playing impromptu matches of volleyball way up in small mountain towns. But it turns out the sport is all the rage there.

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Side note: I haven't been able to access my blog for most of the past couple weeks due to reasons unknown to me (China's censorship at work?), hence the silence. This and some subsequent posts should have been up here a while ago.

Intelligent Design

Comparing the world's major religions strictly based on visual appeal - and given my lack of knowledge on any other level, this is probably what I'd do if forced to pick one - Christianity would rate way down on my list. I'm sitting in a temple of Tibetan Buddhism in Beijing, and it's striking how imaginative and charismatic all the statues and paintings are. Witness, on the one hand:



Here are some of the words that come to mind which I look at this painting: Wan. Flaccid. Simpering.

Now take this Buddhist heavenly king on the other hand:



To borrow a word from my Patagonian hiking companions: badass. Everything from the character to the shapes to the colours grabs me. Stepping outside Buddhism, Hindus even get to worship a strange blue man who overcomes what surely was a debilitating skin condition to become a player.

It seems to me that if Buddhism and Hinduism combined with capitalism, their wild and imaginative styles would be easily marketable, and they could dominate new generations the world over through pop culture.

Of Signs and Change

ATMs in Beijing dispense philosophy with cash. "Please take your advice", said the one I used earlier today. I assumed this was some kind of message to look deep inside myself and reject consumer culture and materialism, but I will need to find a spiritual teacher to unlock the full meaning.

Without speaking any Mandarin, I'm relying on these small translated tidbits to understand the Chinese mindstate. Two adjacent rubbish bins were labelled "recycling" and "unrecycling". I put it down as something to do with feng shui. And next to a parking lot gate, a James Brown-inspired sign read "get down please". Again, it all seems to be about balance in life. You've just spent an hour in slow-moving Beijing traffic, the lot owners are saying, so unwind, do a little breakdancing, and then we'll open the gate so you can park your car. Don't argue, it's for your greater good. You'll see.

Actually, maybe that last part isn't so far from the truth. China is developing at an insane pace. I remember my father telling me about his visit to Beijing 20 years ago, when the streets were so packed with bicycles that crossing to the other side was a challenge. This couldn't be further from the city of today, paved with highways and filled with cars. There are so many cranes building skyscrapers that from a plane you would probably mistake it for one huge construction site.

How can a place change so astonishingly quickly? Part of the answer lies in a neighbourhood I walked through two nights ago covering an area equivalent to a sizeable number of New York city blocks. It had narrow streets of cracked pavement and dirt, and the one- and two-storey houses were old and run down. Located just south of Tiananmen Square, it was very central. It was also eerily deserted.

The last vestiges of communism still give the government an unusual amount of power, like ownership of all land. This neighbourhood, like all the others that used to cover Beijing, had been cleared out by the government, its residents moved to the outskirts of the city to make way for demolition trucks and profitable new developments. When hundreds of thousands descend on Beijing for next year's Olympics, they will see a modern, thriving metropolis. The only remaining parts of the Beijing my father saw 20 years ago will be historical sites like the Forbidden City.

Were this type of development possible in the west, it would probably be very unpopular. After all, it gives no say to those whose entire lives were based in the neighbourhoods they were relocated from. Some are now faced with the dilemma of having to spend more on the commute to and from work than they actually earn in their jobs.

But maybe it's a different operating principle, focussed less on the individual than on the whole. The fact is, a huge and growing number of people are much better off than they were 20 years ago. They reason the growth here is so astonishing is because it's simply not possible under the governments of western societies. Trying to judge which way of running things is better reaches all the way down to fundamental questions of what you value in life, and how you view the importance of self versus the group.

So is China developing for the greater good? I don't know enough to argue. We'll see.

Filling the Time

With so few blog updates from me, I know many of you have been wondering what to do with your lives. I have the answer to your prayers.

In Transit

The first leg of my journey to China was an entry into the U.S., changing planes at Washington DC. Not having had much to eat on the previous 11 hour flight and facing the prospect of a further 5 hours, I caved and bought some airport food. I looked for the most un-fast-food-looking place I could find and settled for a toasted tuna sandwich. It was made "fresh", as in freshly transferred from the freezer to the grill, and wrapped in a couple layers of deli paper, then placed in a brown paper bag.

With no time to eat before boarding, I took it on the plane to wait until I was allowed to use my tray-table without causing whatever gruesome accidents all airlines fear will happen if you unfold them before reaching cruising altitude. (Severed arms? Dented foreheads? Passengers rendered uncontrollable by the sheer excitement of repeatedly folding and unfolding the tray-tables during the multi-thousand-foot climb? Who knows.) Unfortunately by that time the dirty little secret of the airport food stall had been revealed. The sandwich had soaked through all the layers of paper to literally drench the brown bag with grease. When I picked it up from the floor where I had left it during takeoff, there was a small pool of grease left behind. It occurred to me that it would be fitting if, when re-entering the U.S., the immigration control agent handed over one of those sandwiches when saying, "Welcome back to the United States, sir."

I wish I could remember the name of the stall to warn anyone reading this. Unfortunately the best I can do is to recommend giving a wide birth to any food around gate C-2 at Dulles International Airport. Oh Buenos Aires, I'm already longing for your empanadas and ice cream, with sidewalk cafes where people don't eat dinner until 11pm.