On 1st Ring Road

I met bachelor and passionate traveler, Miguel from Majorca, in the lobby of THE LOFT guest house and youth hostel. We had noodle soup together and for a couple of hours after that we romanced over the map of China. He had been on a 3 month journey from Beijing to Lhasa, and south to Kunmin in Yunan, and now in this restaurant-with-no- name, his baritone voice described the places on the map with the perceptive enthusiasm of a modern Marco Polo.


Traveling only for spiritual fulfillment he made no purchases, took no photographs, kept no diary. His bible was a - Lonely Planet - "China". He carried maps and sleeping bag, toothbrush and toothpaste, essentials: 1 change of clothes... He loved China only a silk strand less than Africa…


While waiting for the green light at an intersection of West Section 2, 1st Ring Road, Miguel said that the relatively low level of traffic noise in Chengdu was because the myriad motor-scooters dashing through city streets as silently as the equal number of bicycles and tricycles was because the motor-scooters ran on electrical power, NOT on petrol.


It was peak hour, the side street we turned into was totally blocked with everything and everybody, nose to nose, bumper to bumper, going both ways, in and out, without any visible order.


On the edge of a patchy sidewalk beside the fruit and vegetable display of a you-name- it, we-have-it shop, we waited for a chance to cross the street; then walked the distance to the next stop light as crossing was possible only at great peril to everything and everybody… I remarked that only a miracle could prevent such chaos from turning into massive accidents, but Miguel again explained that in China it was not divine intervention but the skillful defensive driving of those behind the steering wheel that prevailed…


I discovered the opportunity to get correct change for the bus by buying grilled snacks, or thirst-quenching pineapple wedges from the vendors who daily, set up their bicycle or tricycle business on the sidewalk behind most bus stops…


Actually the uses of un-motorized vehicles are countless…

We exchange a kiss but before we lost sight of each other Miguel repeated: “If you can, don’t miss Lhasa, Tibet is like no other place in the world…"

Pics of Chengdu

Taxis were not expensive, the taxi-drivers I encountered, though not English-speaking were gracious, honest and helpful… like using their mobile phones to find out where I was going when all I had to communicate with was a telephone number...

There is no better way to get acquainted with a city than traveling on its public transport. You would never know Chengdu is a city of 13 million people until you ride the city buses…


Don’t worry about being left behind at the bus stop, no matter how full the bus, there is always room for more passengers. No need to shove and push either, just place yourself somewhere in among the waiting commuters and when the bus door opens, you will instantaneously be thrust forward by the crowd’s simultaneous impetus to get on… or off…



At first it was indeed challenging trying to avoid walking around in circles, boarding buses traveling in the opposite direction AND recognizing the bus stop of my destination by designated landmarks. Chairman’s Mao statue in down town Chengdu is unmistakable…




But useless attempting to remember the street with the “Bank of China”, a particularly large buildings, a tunnel, or counting bus stops, Bank of China branches and huge buildings are everywhere, cities in China are metropolis even when they are small. Actually during my wonderings of discovery through Chengdu’s city center I thought of Vancouver or Brisbane’s claustrophobic down town malls as pimples on a Sumo-wrestler backside by comparison



As street names in major Chinese cities are indicated in Chinese characters and English alphabet, on my third day I coveted a city map. I searched and found a book shop where I exhibited a talented charade-performance, and with the uncanny intuition peculiar of a bookseller of substance, the vendor promptly produced a map for my inspection.



Regrettably any grand elation generated by our successful communication was of short duration, “CHENGDU” was the only English word on the map among 5000 street names in Chinese characters… After trading the indecipherable map for two illustrated art books I resumed walking the unfamiliar streets… I was lost again… going around in circles in the vicinity of Wenshu Temple…

Past crowded food stalls and vendors of new antiques, past un-refridgerated butcher shops and shopkeepers sitting at sidewalk tables eating noodle-soup, past shops with incense sticks of many colors, stacks of paper money, alabaster urns for ashes and all manners of unfamiliar funeral paraphernalia…


I crossed a street and stepped into a Buddhist nun’s monastery. The monastery was a complex of shrines and courtyards crowded with women prostrating, lighting candles or offerings aromatic incense. Inside a spacious hall furnished with tables and chairs nuns served food to a full house. I had seen Buddhist monks with begging bowls in the early hours of the day, and here were nuns very busy managing an evidently humming and profitable restaurant…

"Women hold up half the world!"

..so said Chairman Mao

Exiting the nunnery I walked towards an intersection busy with buses, pedestrians, bicycles stop lights… I turned the corner, raised my eyes to inspect the hazy sky and… lo and behold… the golden arches of MacDonald’s restaurant were right there winking down at me.

I knew THAT sign… And knew where I was going…MY bus No.5 ran right past it… What luck! “I am really lucky…” I said to myself, “To what avail is a taxi when I’m unable communicate or show the driver the written Chinese address I left behind? And who needed maps anyway…? MacDonald’s here… “

Chengdu

Chendu, city of 13 million people seemed without end. In Chengdu buses cost 1 or 2 yuan (15 or 20 cents) a ride, long or short, so I spent a couple of days riding on buses, getting off at various locations of interest and getting lost... Truly the words --Lost in China -- kept me amused when I wished for a pocket compass or the ball of Ariadnes thread...

If Chengdu is a reflection of China I would ay this is truly a nation of contrasts... Everything seems side by side, rich and poor, humble or proud, The Gucci/Armani shop or the vendor with the street-stall. It amazed me to see how orderly the maddening traffic circulates. Vehicles of every sort are everywhere, buses, cars, taxis, motorscooters, bicycles... J-walking penalties must be non-existent there... simply because a pedestrian crossing the street needs as much skill as any driver on the road...

I liked China the land, and I liked the Chinese, their subttle vigor, stamina, perseverance of daily pursuits, whether crossing the road or playing cards on the sidewalk, making noodles or eating hotpot in a noisy restaurant, driving a luxury car or loading a mountain of recycled cardboard on a bikecycle... Returning to the western-mode of this planet I returned renewed, I finally understood that something abstract that always eluded me, just now I don't know exactly how to relate it, let me say that I gained some inner wisdom by way of which I have graduated... As for the Chinese... for me they will have a new face as see them with wiser eye...

Call to Chengdu

Allen was the catalyst, the chief inspiration for my travel to Chengdu,

I met Allen in the mid-nineties in Vancouver B.C. by answering an ad posted on a notice board at the VPL offering editorial advice and guidance to poets and aspiring writers. I instantly liked Allen, who with his wife Jong-nan was staying at the May Wah hotel in Vancouver’s Chinatown. Events in one’s life may happen by mere chance yet I suspect the May Wah was the interlude that carved his path to China...

We met after I climbed the stairs to his secont floor room past a smoke-filled first floor where a noisy group of Chinese appeared too busy playing Mahjongg to be distracted by someone who wished to be invisible anyway… I knocked and the door was opened, though I was a stranger arriving unannounced I was welcomed as an old friend and I soon perceived Allen as the word-genie who would effortlessly manipulate my fumbled writings into masterpieces.

Even after Allen left Vancouver, he stood (still stands) unique among my friends and acquaintances. Realizing how much I missed the many layers of his friendship, the bottomless well of his intellect, his wit, his understanding of emotional levels however peculiar or bizarre, his sympathetic, considerate willingness to teach, guide, share knowledge... and experiencing an undeniable need to see him again, I found myself at his doorstep him in Toronto, two years later in Guelph Ontario, and now it seemed natural to follow the trend to Chengdu…

The Chinese Philosopher

Allam, from Bangladesh is gone, and I am still sitting on a bench in the vast concourse near Gate C5 of Bangkok Airport, my brain wallowing in muddy solitude, that state of suspended animation that prevails when there is absolutely nothing you can do but wait…

Suddenly I cannot ignore the persistent nearness of a Chinese young man bombarding me with telepathic waves of eager dialogue… Forced to abandon my meditative voidness I let him lead the inevitable conversation guessing his main objective is to practice a little English… He tells me he studied English at the Sichuan University of Chengdu, he speaks with perfect grammar and a problematic accent so I repeat his own words to make certain I have captured their true essence. I want to ask if he knows Mr. Allen, my friend, who teaches English at the Sichuan University, but fail to break his enthusiastic monologue about the world’s levels of society, as in Karl Marx ideology.

· 1 = Slavery
· 2 = Feudalism
· 3 = Capitalism
· 4 = Socialism
· 5 = Advanced Socialism

“For example, though not completely eradicated, Slavery at level 1, is not a major international concern,” he lectures me, “India at present is at level 2, but catching up. The Indian Government encourages landowners to subdivide and sell the land and often subsidizes sales. Australia and most western countries are on level 3, believing Capitalism to be the superior level. China, been a socialist nation is at level 4, but overpopulation is a problem that diminishes the odds for a fairer society. Northern European nations like Sweden, Norway, Denmark… are nearest to level 5, as they endeavour to achieve the ideal Advanced Socialism.”

From the loudspeaker an announcement invites passenger taking Flight TG 618 to Chengdu, please proceed to Gate C5 which is now open for boarding…

Bangkok Airport

The Airport was very busy indeed, but past hordes of travelers, duty free shops and Bangkok security, the concourse leading to the Boarding Gates, was the calm after the storm.

Did I look lonely? Did I look unusual? Was it my hidden charm, my inner light, or merely the view of a little old lady traveling alone that attracted the attention of a group of young men waiting like me for the Boarding Gate to open? A number of the young men suddenly sat on the floor and begin to play cards; others stood by, observing the game,

A handsome dark-skinned man sat beside me, 24 – 26 years old, he looked at me with penetrating velvet-chocolate eyes, he unzipped the small plastic bag containing personal carry-on items, reached in to pull out a small white tube, opened it and daubed a bright red substance to his lower lip. Not the heavy lipstick a woman or an actor would wear, but a creamy transparent balm that generates a red–rose glow…

Said he was on his way to his native home, Bangladesh, to visit his parents after completing his studies in Australia. “I drove taxi on weekends. Weekend night-shifts can be dangerous, but I earned excellent wages.” He spoke with an accent and to formulate words in English it was evident he had to use muscles, lips and tongue in a way uncharacteristic of his native language.

“Explain dangerous…” I enquired. “Sometimes clients are aggressive,” he replied, “Often when coming out of pubs, clubs or discos they may be drunk, or have no money to pay… in that case I let them go. I take no risks… Sometimes I have offers for sex. Many offers come from gay men, but I tell them I vowed to be faithful to my girlfriend. I have had offers from women too… older women…”

I believe him; he exudes a flowery scent and an intriguing exotic appeal…

Voyage to China

I had a yearn to visit my friend Allen who is teaching English at the Sichuan University in Chengdu, though it is not certain I ever seriously considered a trip to China until the 2nd or 3rd day of February when I entered one of the many FLIGHT CENTRE travel agencies that landmark Brisbane’s shopping areas. Carl, was a good looking, very pleasant travel agent and I was willing to be lured and seduced, so one hour later Thai Airways Intl. would fly me via Bangkok to Chengdu on March 1st , with a two day stopover in Bangkok 30 days later… I was ready…

Bangkok Airport was busy, and as I had not traveled Asia for many years I curiously perceived the hum of different cultures that filled the airport spaces…
A four hour layover between flights permitted the purchase of 2 – I liter Duty Free Chivas Regal which miraculously reached Chengdu. Miraculously, because no liquids over 100 ml, are apparently permitted on any flight… (I had forgotten that in Brisbane, after being pronounced dangerous, my 750ml bottled water was delegated to the rubbish bin…) In Brisbane I was also frisked and checked for explosives… No problem for me, airport security does its job and I am grateful for their attempt to keep us safe…