Super long super post!

Josh and I have spent the last few days doing just about nothing and thoroughly enjoying cooking our own meals and not having to arrive anywhere to catch anything. It is a nice vacation from our vacation and I am trying to relish the break before heading back to work sometime in the next week or so. It is a bit of a mixed blessing, to work for a school so mysterious that I have no idea when I teach, what I teach or who I teach and will probably not be privy to such information until the time comes when they see fit to inform the teacher of her teaching duties. It leaves me without anything to prepare for so instead I spend my time learning how to relax a bit and retyping my journal entries to share on my blog. Enjoy!

We begin in Guangxi Province in the town of Yangshuo – Josh, Megan (another teacher here at HIT) and I. Our travels begin January 2nd 2008.

Yangshuo (Jan 4th) – *Picture – On Li River boat – Megan, Josh and I

Josh and Megan nap in the neatly clipped grass of the park nearby the very old Banyan tree, a tourist attraction close to Yangshuo that did not necessarily deserve our 18 kuai (Chinese money) and I sat down to write this:
Chewing on sugar cane, sitting in the arm grass, Josh and Megan by my side, the mountain hills of Guanxi province surrounding us like gentle guardians. We are staying in Yangshuo at the West Lily Hotel in a triple bed room with heat that doesn’t work and two comforters to make up the difference. A good hotel find after almost staying in a nearby Youth Hostel with a slightly overbearing guide. We could not have had better weather, although the cold is rather cold due to the humid air that sinks into your bones when the sun departs for the evening. Yesterday we delighted in a boat trip down the Li River through a more uninhabited bit of these otherworldly hills – slipping between lamas, camels, sleeping giants…the river liquid-air beneath a softly purring boat, the driver whistling a tune to match his carefree smile.
Today we took bikes and coasted through the countryside on our way to visit the Banyan Tree and YueLiang Shan (Moon Mountain), becoming overly sentimental by the fresh air and rosy cheeked children living in the yet serene valleys here. I put a quick check on our lofty ideals by driving my bike over the sharp edge into the small canal on the side of the rode, scraping skin and bruising legs, allowing everyone time to realize how much their bums hurt due to the hard and seemingly unyielding bike seats. Thankfully, we arrived at the 1000 year old Banyan tree to refresh ourselves upon boiled corn, noodles and a freshly cut stick of sweet fibrous sugar cane.

Travel to Li Jiang (Jan 6th)

The next entry comes two days later after we had hopped an early morning bus from Yangshuo to the town of Nanning, taxied across a neat looking metropolis to a large and people filled train station to happily emerge from a long wait in line with 3 tickets for a train in an hour, to Kunming of Yunnan Province. We all had a splendid time on the well oiled comfy train, eating dinner in the car full of cheery travelers and cigarette smoke, then sleeping only when forced into our bunks, after the 10pm lights-out curfew. Awakened earlier than we expected, we clambered out to find a bus station with hopes of catching early morning bus to Li Jiang (maybe 8 -10 hours away). We found such bus, unloaded heavy backpacks into its undercarriage, found Chinese breakfast in outdoor canteen and then I wrote this:
White and blue flowers embroider designs directly in front of my face, adorning the small basic chairs in the Li Jiang bus. Meagan and Josh struggle with legs too long in a world manufactured for shorties (such as myself who sits happily comfy). An easy crossword is the entertainment of the moment through Megan zips thru with mind boggling ease leaving Josh and I to puzzle out the odd one or two. The bus fills up with people; babies, grandmothers with ancient faces, young men and women – colorful, bedraggled, simple and honest. Its cold, my fingers stiffen and I consider buying a steaming hot corn cob from the vendor yelling at the front of the bus – his wares displayed in bucket held aloft by strong brown hand. Instead, I sip cold bottle of jasmine tea, feeling chilly though bemused because my curiosity keeps momentary tiredness at bay. We could be at a circus with all the commotion. A yelling man with a cigarette dangling courageously from his lip skuttles in and out, around people with various packages, loud music plays from the small player the young man sitting beside Josh is proud to have produced – cheap classical tunes. We all hope the bus will depart soon, anxious to get to the destination. It is 9am, we have been traveling since yesterday morning – the bus is trying to leave but there is a traffic jam in the bus yard – we are all beginning to feel the effects of traveling, loud music and pressing voices. It is 9:30am – we are still stuck in the bus yard…
Li Jiang (Jan 7th)- *Picture – Looking at Jade Dragon Snow Mountain
So our bus did actually depart to move our intimately packed selves up and away – to mountains and old town of Li Jiang;
I crouch here on a little stool in the small tower pagoda of the rustic hostel – home for the next few days. Yujong Xueshan (Jade Dragon Snow Mountain) rests not far away but directly in my view and the sun shines clear and bold, displaying a sky so blue you could dip your fingers into it. The roofs, jumbling the sky line around me, produce an ancient aura; cow lipped corners upturned in “the old fashion” with an occasional glossy animal figurine resting at the end or middle of the peak – house guardians and good luck ensurers.
The soft breeze is cold, I grasp a covered tea cup to warm my fingers but do not mind so much being away from my two comforter laden bed; cozy indeed but still too hard for my wide hips and softer bed Western upbringing. I am rather crudely hoping this green tea starts things moving in my stuck bowels – constipation is the price one pays for travel and strange food I suppose – and Megan swears by green tea so here I sit and sip.
Last night we arrived off our long bus, happy to be still for a moment. A lady promised us a hostel so we followed her through the maze of narrow streets with cobbled stones smoothed by years of a past peoples treading. The buildings and streets are old but yet, the atmosphere screams modern tourist and the glitz of disneylandia sparkles ominously in every trinket filled shop or restaurant with keepers dressed in traditional Naxi gowns of bright colors – dancing to a music that seems to have been stolen from the dignity of the hills. The Naxi people – 300,000 live here, a minority holding on to its roots in the fragile almost fruitless way by allowing it to become an attraction. Yet, I am a stranger and I do not know – maybe this is the only way? I feel the sorrow that I cannot understand well inside – for the proud glory of a people who mostly remain only in a few stones and that have lost something of their independence – me, a westerner at heart, I cringe to think of lost independence, lost ways. Yet, there is hope for me – a hope that is extended to us – for the mountains and the hills they remember and hold their shape. Yesterday I saw this hope brilliant in an old grandmother with face like bunched up leather, smiling at her full cheeked grandson. Love and memories creased into her face like the wrinkles in the solemn hills we passed. At night I watched them and felt her, wisely tucking the city into bed with full- bodied blue shadows stealing across the valley and over the small dog guarding the roof nearby. Change comes and the new can be garish or serene but still she comes allowing perhaps only the land to remember with all the memories of love and sorrow pressed deep upon it, wearing it down until its Savior comes to renew and bring mighty justice to a fallen world making it whole. That is how I and perhaps she, this old mother, can be at peace and still smile into the red cheeked future, grinning at us like morning from the seat in front.
(Historical Note of Interest gleaned from Lonely Planet China 2005 – Li Jiang old town is the working remains of an ancient city built by the Naxi people (Tibeto-Burman). In 1996 a massive earthquake leveled Li Jiang killing more than 300 and injuring 16,000 but, while most of the new parts of Li Jiang were totaled, the traditional architecture of the Naxi people survived quite well. The Chinese government then spent lots of money rebuilding Li Jiang with the more traditional cobblestone and wood. Also the United Nations, highly impressed by the Naxi architecture, placed Li Jiang County on the World Heritage Site list in 1999 and put a large plaque up in the central square.)
Last Day in Li Jiang (Jan 9th)- Picture * Black Dragon Pond
Our last day in Li Jiang – tonight we take the night sleeper express “busser” (I quote the spelling on the sign) back to Kunming. This morning I woke with the sun – about 8am here – and took off for a walk in the chilly morning. I walked back to Black Dragon Pond – nihaoing to the early rising others also out to catch a bit of exercise in the clean crisp morning. I walked through the park and across/around Elephant Mountain, guarding Black Dragon Pond below, with my face always towards Jade Dragon Snow Mountain – my breathless noble hero. The park ended. I went on past young people waiting for a bus or inspiration or love – just waiting. I found the mountain, standing in glory beside the vegetable patches between tall bushy trees.
We packed – Josh and I wandered around – found temples – bought souvenirs – talked about life. We stopped at Wang Chan Palace and visited a temple – lit incense to watch the young monk, touring us around in a lazy simple fashion, gong the deep bell three times. We left money and gained an odd sense of suspicion or guilt – who knows.
A weathered old man sold us a copy of the Forgotten Kingdom by Peter Guollart and we are currently enjoying milk/yogurt shakes in a little hillside/good view spot that is under roof rehabilitation as we speak. Chunks of concrete rain down a few feet from us but oddly the sense of simple afternoon calm is maintained. Must be the blue sky and lightly warm mountain air that seem to undulate calmness all around.
Yesterday, we rented a shock-less little minivan and froze our way up through the mountains to Tiger Leaping Gorge – 2 ½ hours away. The sun was just coming up – our breath stood still in a cloud before our faces in the morning chill as the Gorge was still in deep shadow. We paid our 65Kuai and headed off – stepping quickly to bring warm blood to frozen toes. It was a well constructed path with long lit tunnels bypassing places with danger of mammoth rocks sliding down to crush innocent sight-seers. Guarding soldiers loitered around in thick green overcoats for our safety or to keep us minding the signs printed with badly translated amusing commands such as, “Notice the rocks slide, please is run about by cliff” and “Forbid throwing the rubbish to the bridge arbitrarily.”
Tiger Leaping Gorge. Inspiring. It is surprisingly deep – 40m average depth of blue clean water which leaps down, becoming a white tiger to surge around a huge boulder. It is the Yangsti river’s chance to come alive. The power overwhelms me and I stand a long moment, mesmerized by the chaos.
We spent the rest of the day driving back home and stopping often to hike about or buy coca-kele from small disorderly stores. The sky remains azure, breaking your heart with its honesty, and the sun drips life blood into the veins. I do not want to leave these mountains.

Kunming – Jan 10th

We arrived in Kunming, capital of Yunnan Province, early this morning after a fitful tight sleep aboard the overnight bus from Li Jiang. Megan, Josh and I were bunched into a three-across bed with me in the narrow middle. Overnight buses support 3 rows of narrow bunk beds, 2 levels high, blankets included with bathroom in the middle. We each took one of Megan’s miracle Thai bought motion-sickness pills and rather passed out, dozing in and out of uncomfortable positions. Thankfully this made the drive pass quickly but we were none too happy to be dumped at the Kunming bus station before the sun had even awaken, leaving us to catch a taxi to the Camilia Hotel – a place recommended to us. Sadly, we arrived at said hotel only to find a disgruntled traveling woman screaming at the desk attendants and when we, hesitantly, inquired for a triple room we were given a very high price – too high for our short budgets. We trudged around, grumpy and laden, to find a nearby place – the price was a bit better but the staff less-than-welcoming and the added bed to the small double room, very uncomfortable.
I was feeling very overwhelmed, out of sorts, so I took a hot shower whilst Megan and Josh napped and then set out in the thickening dawn to a small café I had spied earlier. Now I sit here in cozy ‘City Café’, drinking milky Yunnan coffee, happily surprised by a wonderful breakfast of fried spicy tomatoes, eggs and a thick slice of brown toast. I relax into my book Hearing Birds Fly and am now able to greet the morning appropriately.
Kunming – Jan 13th Picture * Xi Shan
Today we leave Kunming – Josh and I heading to Shenzhen and then Hong Kong to hop our morning flight to Jakarta, Indonesia. Megan leaves for Thailand.
Josh and I have both come down with head colds so we are sniffling about drinking mass quantities of hot water with a comical zeal. We have checked out of our little hotel with the staff that seems always stressed out – staring into their little screens and speaking rapidly to hand held radios. Now we early await apple pie and coffee to celebrate our last day together.
Yesterday Josh took a break and stayed home to sleep and recover leaving Megan and I free to have a rather needed ‘girls day’ – (it has been a bit stressful lately in our 3’s-a-crowd group.) Megan and I left around 11am, caught at No. 5 bus and stepped right off to find a bus to XiShan (Western Mountains) immediately to our left. Pleased, we hopped on to find an amusing couple in charge – smiling swerving man as driver and ponytailed, sunhat topped, rosy cheeked woman yelling out the door with golden voice – searching for potential passengers. San Kuai to XiShan!!! Indeed. We climbed up and around the mountain, winding around hairpin turns and walking people. XiShan contains 12 Taoists palaces to different deities – some carved right out of the rock by a highly devoted monk hanging by fingertips to chisel intricate designs into the mountains. The view is breathtaking – though the breath-less-ness might be attributed to the steep stairs and continuous climbing up to see each palace.
The day before we had paid too much for a car to take us to the puzzling land of the Stone Forest to visit the less known Black Hills, which turned out to be a disaster as we were not allowed into the park. We took a few steps in to a peaceful stone forest looking park and keepers came to shoo us out, then, as we were sullenly debating what to do our driver decided we had finished touring and prepared to take us straight back to Kunming – probably thinking this was a grand deal for him, refusing to take us to the very popular tourist sight we had been trying to avoid due to a 140kuai entrance fee. Tempers certainly flared and grumpies set in but, after losing a good deal of Chinese face (a cultural disaster) he agreed to take us to the other park for no extra.
We arrived, got in for a little less due to non-expiring Student Cards from universities, and sat down to a little picnic – unwinding from our tense encounter to enjoy the amazing sights towering around us like craggy buccaneers. Stone Forest is a puzzling collection of boulders, tall and sharp, that seem to have been belched up by the deep sea and flung around upon a rolling meadow to stand at attention like fingers poking up at the sky. It is surreal and one can get lost within the maze of paths and steps constructed on and around the stones. We trekked as long as possible, frustrated that our taxi driver had insisted we return at an early hour, but then returning on time to find him leisurely washing his car leaving us to sit and wait. Oh how traveling can test the patience!
All in all, as we sit here to drink coffee and munch on flaky apple pie with rich homemade icecream, we agreed our travel together through Southern China was good. Please check out our pictures on my flickr site at www.flickr.com/photos/myawheeler/ Soon, I will post more about the next part of our travels to Indonesia and beyond…so stay tuned dear readers.

Travels

Today Josh, Megan and I head off into the wild blue of the vast land of Asia! We will be traveling with Megan around some epic places in Southern China for about 2 weeks then Josh and I squirrel over to Hong Kong to catch a flight to Indonesia. There we will adventure around with Josh's two sisters, Cora and Malyssa (Malyssa is teaching English there through the SALT program). Two and a half weeks later we will head back to Hong Kong for a bit and then make our crazy way up to Shandong province to spend Chinese New Years with with my student, good friend and Chinese teacher, Fengze. Then home home home. It is intimidating but exciting and I will work my best to find my writing inspiration and leave more bits of news as we go along!

Christmas

It is Christmas day evening; I am full of sugar, sleepy, worn out. It has been an exhausting couple of weeks with a roller coaster of ups and downs. Last week I gave exams which means giving points and methodically going through each student, asking questions, to try and determine their oral English proficiency (or not). That was and is hard for me – I struggle to put numbers on an experience…arbitrary numbers. This week was Christmas. Perhaps I should say, this month was Christmas and being in a country that does not celebrate Christmas, other than as a good opportunity to hang up overly gaudy tinsel and creepy looking Santas and entice the consumer to buy, is was a very trying month and past week or so. I discovered the Christmas child within; the little Mya that anticipated Christmas with whole hearted mystery, whose Christmas trees held magic and wonder, whose joy of going to Grandma's house was surpassed by no other occasion in the year. It is a unique cultural holiday that contains music, sights, smells, tastes, parties…etc. Yet, give or take all that, the part that I missed the most was the family.

It was my very first Christmas without my mom, dad, brother and sister. Right now, they are all in Denver with the whole group on my mother's side and I remain in China; the only one not there. I spent a lot of the week in tears, contemplating my priorities that often take me away and away and away from those people and places I am slowly learning are the best, the best, and the best of me.

Still, I am glad to say I was not alone, in any sense. I have made new and delightful wondrous friends here. My inbox is packed with little emails wishing me "happy Christmas…most prosperous and good wishes for the new year….happy everywhere," and all other kinds of oddly stated best wishes from all my thoughtful amazing students. Then Sommer and I (she is studying Chinese from Colorado) spent Christmas Eve making supper, chatting the evening away and even reading the Christmas story together. This morning I had Christmas coffee with Yoko and opened presents with Megan, Millie and Bethany. We made lunch together and then ate cinnamon buns I had made (a family tradition). The evening was spent at Sommer's new apartment at a Christmas party of sorts with her classmates and teachers (Russians, Koreans, Chinese, Iranian and us N Americans) just talking in all types of languages and eating everything from cheese to a gingerbread house. At the end of the day I feel full and amazed at the simple goodness around me and so happy to have made even more new friends. Next semester promises to be good!

Yes, made it through Christmas but the question remains on my heart – what do I go away from when I go and what do I gain? It is a heavy one especially as I consider my students, my friends, my relationship with Josh, my bits of Chinese…etc. All these things are good. Being away from Josh has been so difficult but in so many ways so good. I have had a chance to be a teacher and reap the joy that comes from this noble profession. Yet, today my family sits together - crazy and quirky as we all are, all the imperfections and awkwards together - and honestly it breaks my heart to be missing it. Unexplainable really, but I just feel, strong within myself, the desire to just be close.

So this little blog is dedicated to you all; Mom, dad, Nat, Caleb, Aunt Tina, Jesse, Aunt Rachel, Uncle Jay, Jenny, Aunt Betsy, Uncle Bruce, Ellen, Rita (and Sean!), and Grandpa Melvin – I love you and miss you all! Shengdan Kuaile! From China!

Birthday Photos

24 years and a Visit from Dad

It's funny. The spell check on my word processor does not recognize the word, 'blog.' I wonder if the updated version does…

Monday, sometime after midnight I completed 24 years of being alive in western cultural standard time. In China, because a baby is alive in the mother tummy (so I was told), I would actually say I am in my 25th year. The thick lime green mug in front of me stains my tongue red with an infusion of raspberry goodness; a birthday gift from Bethany. To my left a small bottle of Brer Rabbit Mild Flavor Molasses joins a red balloon with a cut out construction paper stem hoping to pass itself off as a tomato to remind me of my favorite nickname, tomato face, christened to me by Utuq after observing me huffing and puffing after a jog. On my right a happy plant reaches its little arms all directions in a tall dark pot wrapped with ribbon and warmth. All gifts. Gifts from good new friends who took the time to make dinner for me (Megan and Yoko), decorate, invite several others (Gulambar, Utuq, ZouYen, Summer, Bethany) and then laugh over a more than lively game of UNO.

Early in the week I had received a guest also bearing sweet and dear to my heart, tidings and gifts from another continent. My dad came to stay last Thursday evening, taking a train Sunday evening to work on the greenhouse in Hunchun. It was a whirlwind trip of wakefulness at all crazy hours mixed with jetlag naps and bouts of caffeine-laden drinks to stall the sleepy.

All week I prepared and talked about the arrival of my dad with my students, so by the time Thursday rolled around I was even receiving text messages welcoming him here and wishing me happiness (of course). The big question of the day was, how to get to the airport and back? Harbin airport is situated, conveniently, way outside of Harbin to, as one of my students decided, "keep the sound from bothering the city people." (Honestly, I wondered if this construction burden city would even notice a plane flying over.) Figuring it all out took a bit of back and forth. Of course, there was the taxi but then one could be sure of high prices, there was a bus but the last one left from Harbin at 7pm, there was the idea of going and hanging out for 4 hours before my dad arrived but my students then insisted on going to accompany me and I just wasn't sure if that would be so fun (love my students but that is a long wait). Finally, dear Li Peng (from the Hunchun bus trip) came through again and found a car service that would take us and bring us back for a great price! We (because he still insisted upon coming) hopped in and went off for the 40 min trip out because we went the slow- but-cheap route, which bypassed the tollbooth by meandering through some back villages and orchards. In China, some things, like long underwear time, heater turn on time, and time zone in general, are not negotiable and most people simple accept and adjust. Other things, like regulations concerning copy write and obviously overpriced tollbooths are simple put to the side, respectfully but with precision that always brings a smile to my lips.

And so my dear dad arrived, accompanied me to class the next morning to the joy of my favorite students. We were playing Jeopardy review in class and dad was the happy host, whitening his fingers with chalk to keep track of all the points. The most interesting moment was when I brought dad to the foot massage place where he was quite happily surprised (after a bit of apprehension) to have his feet massaged for the first time in his life!

Yes, of course, the stay was too short and Sunday night came before it should have but thankfully my friend Utuq was there to help us maneuver the huge railway station in Harbin. We were able to accompany my dad into the waiting room; a tall ceiling hazy with cigarette smoke, dust and the muted colors of many people packed tight together with various articles of luggage and box, then down to the platform to actually board the train. It is quite the squeeze as the open the doors to go to the platform about 10 minutes before departure so the scramble was a wee bit intense and the send-off overly short, but there he went. I received a message mid morning telling me he arrived safely into the Hunchun farm. Oh dad.

Being Cold or Overly Properly Clothed

The cold fall arrived in Harbin and settled her dry cold self into my
toes, hands and every building I spent time in (including my
apartment). For a while the heat was not turned on anywhere because
the Chinese heating system follows dates on calendar. The Moon takes
precedence over Cold and so the time-of-the-long-underwear and the
time-of-the-radiator comes when he dictates and neither the warmth of
Sun nor the chill of North Wind can persuade otherwise. The long
underwear comes out just after the Mid-Autumn Festival and, without
fail, my students layer on the wool under thick pants and puffy winter
coats. The body is not to get cold and the translation for an upset
stomach is a cold stomach. Unfortunately, I have the quirky body of
my father with ice feet and hands that do not cooperate regardless of
how I dress. Nicely then, I am forever told how cold hands mean a
warm heart, which comforts but at times I could do with a bit less
extreme for either organ. It causes me endless frustration to be
either sweating in my big winter coat or freezing in a thinner
windbreaker so usually I just go through endless
taking-off-and-putting-back-on to regulate my jumpy body temperature.
It is a little shocking to my overly protective students though to
see me arrive all in a huff and promptly strip down to short sleeves
to begin the class, fussing about how warm the room is; they wouldn't
be caught dead in short sleeves in winter unless they were planning to
work out in a warmed gym…and even then I am not sure they would go so
far. I do not jest; a thin almost hose type layer, then a thick wool
layer, then the jeans, then the long puffy coat. I have seen knitted
knickers an inch thick underneath heavy sweaters and my longjohn lack
is probably just as concerning to them.

Anyway, the radiator underneath each windowsill finally came on
the end of October during a rather cold spell and we were all
overjoyed to be able to sit in our rooms and feel warm. Of course,
occasionally they really crank up the water heat (or something) and we
all put on tanktops and shorts and forget that it is –9C outside until
the wind hits our face and our warm pampered faces wonder if they
should have hibernated in the sauna room of the apartment forever.
Yesterday, joy of joys, it snowed (xue in Chinese)! Suddenly,
winter has arrived with her blanket of white to shield the poor bare
swept earth. I wonder some if I mourn a bit during the time between
the glory of harvest and the sleep of winter. The bare ground and
stripped trees seem so cold and tired of life; I feel tired of life
too. The sun spends less and less time with the forsaken north and my
heart understands those ancient people that gave great sacrifices to
urge the sun to come back and not abandon them. Yet, the moment those
fluffy white specks hit the ground and energy changes; winter has come
and, be it only an inch of frozen dry white, it is an inch of white
and it makes all the difference to my sensitive soul. So…I am over
exaggerating but truly I am learning the simple joys are the sweetest
and most healing. Yeah for xue!

The Long-Trip Bus

About 3 weeks before Golden Week I had already decided I wanted to visit Hunchun but I was beginning to worry because the implications of a whole country on vacation was dawning on me concerning the travel. Of course, it just so happened that during my second day of office hours a student came to visit me who just so happened to be from Hunchun. Seriously. Considering the fact that my students are from all across China the probability of that happening is pretty scarce so it was a rather beautiful moment and I still feel inspired thinking about it.

My student was thrilled and promised to help me figure out transportation suggesting that I opt for the Hunchun bus instead of braving the overcrowded train that would only get me to Tumen (45 min drive from the farm). From this point on everything was taken care of by Li Peng and I didn't do anything besides continue to assure him that whatever happened I was fine and he needn't worry. In the end, the bus was sold out (you can only buy the ticket the day before or of) but his sister's friend was a relative of the bus driver (oh connections in China!) SO of course there would be a seat for me, somehow! It is amazing.

I packed my Josh and Wiens family hiking backpack (thanks you all!!!) and headed out with Li Peng around 3:30pm on that Friday wondering if I was going to go or not but perfectly happy either way. The bus was a Long-Trip bus; which means a bus with bunk beds instead of seats. Yep. Pretty cool. You get in, take off your shoes and deposit them in a little bag to take with you and then sort of shimmy down either the left or right hand aisle two bunks high for each row. The beds are narrow and just barely long enough for me so about average Chinese height. Each holds a mattress and a thick blanket with a small rectangle pillow filled with some kind of bean or bead and there is just enough room to sit up and only have to bend your head a little. I wouldn't recommend it for a very claustrophobic person.

I boarded the bus and was given the farthest bunk in the back corner, due to some switching around to allow the pitiful foreigner (that's me) a real seat instead of something less official. I protested and tried to point out that I was strong and would be fine anywhere, not wanting to deny someone of a seat, but seeing as my Chinese is only as good as my awkward waving gestures and facial expressions…well, it didn't work. By this point in my time in Harbin I was pretty exhausted and so even remembering the word for yes or no (there is actually no single word for no) was beyond my capabilities. I just sat back, smiled at the giggling staring people (mostly women) around me and ate some dates from a ziplock baggy. It was pretty exciting till I realized I would eventually have to pee and the thought of climbing through everything, trying to ask where or how to use the toilet, going out in the very cold somewhere and probably squatting in the dark all the time sort of worried that they would leave without me (I'm over paranoid at times)…was a bit too much to handle. I just kept falling asleep waking up to the nearly full moon staring at me and my face almost frozen due to the draft from the window by my head. The bus stopped about 3 times, for about 10 minutes each by the side of the road and I jealously watched the guy beside me jump out and return in a very short amount of time, probably feeling very comfortable and relieved.

I was told we were to arrive at about 4AM so at about 2:30 I had gathered up courage (or enough discomfort to be mistaken as courage) to prepare the big dive into the unknown world of "the rest stop," when all the lights came on and everyone else starting gathering their stuff and piling up blankets. So we had arrived! Unhappily for me the trip did not actually end until 2 hours later due to Timothy's car breaking down, but the managing woman took good care of me allowing me to stay in the bus after we spent a confusing amount of time communicating that (on my part) I didn't need a taxi because someone was coming and (on her part) that I should stay in the bus and sleep to keep warm. I was so excited and awake I opted to sit in the front of the bus till I begin to feel the chill creeping into my bones and the bus lady's urging for me to get into a bed under a pile of blankets became more than just a request but rather like an order. In the end Timothy asked me to take a taxi, gave him directions over my cell phone and I arrived. Cold, desperately excited to use the bathroom and not quite ready for the sun to come up but there she was; already peeping over the horizon.

Guess what. I caught a cold. Go figure.

The trip home was much nicer because by then I was rested (sick but brain rested) and more confident of asking questions. Also, the bus was only half full and I got a seat way up front with a thicker blanket. We even stopped for dinner this time where I ate very spicy soup and managed to find a bathroom (yes I was entertaining but that comes with the leaving of the comfort zone to travel; you end up either frustrating or amusing people so it is good to be on the happier side).

Coming back to Dorm A-13 and banging on the door to wake the night guard (my dorm has a midnight curfew) was actually a comfortable returning. I remembered how a few weeks ago I arrived in the middle of the night scared and homesick. This night I walked into the courtyard and looked up to see the moon and the bright stars of the constellation Orion and in one moment the city was not so bad and home was at the top of 16 floors with friends down the hall.