Emily, our intrepid local ABV volunteer who, as the title implies, has volunteered to help us through this Corporate Service Corps assignment, began negotiations for a departure time at dinner the night before.
“I think we should leave the hotel at 7:30.”
“How about 8:30. The train doesn’t leave until 8:56.”
“7:45.” She was a tough negotiator.
“Uh, can we at least do 7:50?”
Carlos and I made a side pact that we could at least stretch this until 7:55. Carlos is from Brazil, and is a bear of a man. I am doing everything I can to avoid saying, “Teddy Bear,” but he’s a big, nice dude. He has a thick accent and relatively deep voice and has a way of starting his sentences on an impressively high note, at least an octave above his normal speaking tone. “Why we going so early to de train?”
I awoke at 7:01 to Duli’s 7 am wake-up call through the paper thin wall that separates his room from mine. My wake-up call came seconds later. Ugh. Coffee. Shower. Put a bunch of junk in a small bag for the day. Post to Facebook that I am going to try to get to Shaolin Temple before the rapture. At 7:55 we were in the lobby and ready to get in a cab.
At 8:05 we were sitting in the train station staring at each other. “Why we go so early to de train?” Emily had a subtle but sadistic grin on her face. I was considering some food when I noticed a woman holding her child above a nearby trash can. Throughout China we’ve observed a clever money-saving tactic used by parents. Instead of diapers, they simply bust their children’s pants crotches wide open. This practice offers one of the many explanations for the fragrances that one encounters throughout the day in Shijiazhuang. But this baby seemed to have my fear of heights and was not cooperating with the mother’s plan, so she squatted nearer the ground right in front of the trash can, baby held between her legs. This was much better for the baby, who began to pee all over the floor and all over her mother’s open toed shoes. I stared in disbelief, and when the spectacle was complete the mother lifted her foot for her friend to help sop up some of the mess that had soaked into her socks. At that moment I abandoned my idea to seek food and looked appreciatively at my dry shoes and socks, satisfied that losing a half hour’s sleep was not such a bad way to start the day, all things considered.
The Yellow River (yes, I am proud of this segue)The train ride to Zhengzhou lasted three hours and took us over the Yellow River, birthplace of Chinese civilization. We then took a bus another one-and-a-half hours through Dengfeng and to the Shaolin Temple. It was raining. The last thing I had done so many hours ago when I left my hotel room was stare at my rain coat and say to myself, “Come on, you always overpack.” But now a parking lot vendor was running full speed towards the jacketless pair that was Duli and me, yelling something that either meant, “Buy my rain gear!” or was directed towards poor Emily saying, “Hey tour guide, make them buy my rain gear!” I had a brief flashback to The Wall, but this rain gear was a bargain, with rain ponchos starting at 5 Yuan, or less than $1. We quickly snatched up two and tore into the packages only to find that the material was so thin that we had real doubts as to whether it would actually repel water. Thankfully, it stopped raining about the time we got them snapped around ourselves, but now we were in it for the look. We were ready to enter Shaolin.
Not as good attire for Kung Fu as it would seem
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