I'm not going to bother
describing Beijing Xi (Beijing West Railway Station). I'd rather you look at the picture and come to your own
conclusions about whether or not the Chinese are compensating for anything.
It's 2030, and by my own
estimate, I'm being closely watched by around three hundred Chinese people.
That's not hyperbole in the slightest. A small patch of ground has been
cleared, the middle of which is occupied by myself and one other. We are
surrounded by the otherwise packed Platform 5 waiting room. It's like a scene
out of a movie, except I'd rather be anywhere than where I am right now,
surrounded by people who are alternatively irritated, curious, laughing or
neutral.
The only other person in
the circle is a pudgy Chinese woman who is currently screaming in rage,
desperation, frustration, and just outright insanity. Her face and eyes are
streaked with tears, and she occasionally falls to her knees, only to
eventually rise to her feet and stumble around before falling back down again.
Every once in a while she bumps into the crowd, who recoil as though they might
catch her madness.
Believe it or not (and I
can tell that some of the Chinese in the crowd don't), I've done nothing to
this woman. In fact, when she came up to me some twenty minutes ago, sobbing, I
offered her my water. This was probably the mistake that got me in this mess,
because now she won't leave me alone.
I sit on my pack, afraid
to move because I don't want anything stolen while I’m distracted, studiously
staring at my notebook and trying to avoid eye contact with Crazy. And, she is
most definitely crazy.
I have no idea what to
do. Adrenaline has kicked in, and I'm sweating underneath my shirt. I speak absolutely
no Chinese, and it's pretty clear to me that some of the people in the crowd
think I've done something I haven’t. There are no other westerners, and I can't
get up to get the cops, who probably won't listen to a foreigner in the first
place. (I've heard some interesting descriptions of Chinese police, but none of
them ever included the word "helpful"). I've tried moving, but she followed me.
My one asset is two old
Chinese men who have been watching the entire time and are getting sick of the
interruption to their card game. Neither of them speaks any English, but we
communicated in sign language and smiles before Crazy showed up, with me having
initiated the exchange by trying to find out if I was in the right spot. One of
them snaps something at a younger woman, who rushes off into the crowd. He
meets my eyes with an encouraging nod, and I shoot him a shaky smile. Crazy
lets out a soul-shattering moan and falls to the floor again.
I know that if I give
ground everyone in the crowd will think I've done something wrong. It's kind of
like running from a crime scene, if you run, you're a suspect. If you stay,
you're a witness. On top of all that, I'm the only person in the waiting area
that's not Chinese, and that's not really a point in my favor on this.
Finally, a female police
officer elbows her way through the crowd, the young woman and the old man are sent off
at her shoulder. The young woman is, thank all the gods, pointing at crazy and
not me. The cop gives me one look, and I give her my "I don't know what's going
on; I don't speak the lingo and am completely innocent" smile. I've had a
lot of practice on the crowd.
She looks me up and
down, and I can actually see her come to the decision that it's just better to
deal with the local and avoid the effort that comes with dealing with foreign
nationals. She turns to Crazy and starts
snapping questions in rapid fire Chinese.
With some effort, the
police officer manages to drag Crazy away. In the States this might have
resulted in clapping; here the crowd mutters like they've missed out on a show
and slowly disperses. The old men give me thumbs up. I nod at them and let out
a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
It is literally the most
stressful thing that has happened to me in China, and climbing aboard the train
for my first overnight train ride seemed anticlimactic afterward.
A "Hard
Sleeper" bound for Xi'an province is exactly what it sounds like. Train
cars are filled with bunks, six to a "cabin" with maybe twenty or
thirty per car. Racks are stacked, and I'm on the topmost of three. In my mind’s
eye, I picture WW2 era troop transports and modern day naval bunks. It is
exactly how I imagine people travel in developing nations.
And I love it. It's
truly the people's mode of transportation – an utter equalizer. I've seen dirt
poor farmers with giant sacks of whatever bunking next to guys in business
suits. At 250 Yuan, it's the cheapest way to get around, and probably by far
the most economical. The only luxury is hot water, provided complimentary in
plug in kettles. That’s for heating up ramen, or perhaps green tea.
The train lurches into
motion, and I stay up and watch people prepare for bed. Soon enough, the
swaying of the train begins to lull me to sleep as well, and when I wake, we
are pulling into Xi'an.
- Doug
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