Nightlife

Well my plan to get to bed early turned out to be just a plan. After I finished journaling I went downstairs to use one of the coin operated computers in the lounge to check the balance in my account. Thus far I have stayed under budget but only marginally.

When I came back to my room, I had a new roommate. He was Arabic and I think I startled him when I opened the door.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Zach.”

“Arafat,” he said. “Where are you from?”

“The US,” I said. “And you?”

“Morocco,” he said. “What city in the US?”

I told him.

“I have heard of it,” he said.

“Where are you from in Morocco?” I asked. He told me the name. “I do not know it. But I have a friend who is going to study in Casablanca this next year.”

“In Morocco?” he said.

“Yes,” I said. “He’s studying journalism.”

“Me too,” he said. “But I study in Moscow, Russia.”

We talked about the different tours the hostel offered. He was signed up for the Terra Cotta Warriors tomorrow as well, but that was the only one he was going to have time for before he headed back home to Russia. He’d been traveling for the past few weeks and his trip was winding down now.

“What are you doing now?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, realizing it was still pretty light out and going to bed sounded incredibly lame. “The guy at the front desk mentioned there was live music somewhere every night.”

“Yes,” he said pulling out his map. “Here,” he pointed. “I am going there too. Only so much time in China, we can sleep when we got home right.”

I guess I needed someone to tell me that. “Right,” I said (and now that home is just one week away, I guess I am starting to feel the need to take advantage of every second.)

We headed outside and walked along the city gate. “We have to catch this bus,” he said pointing at the map.

The breeze felt so good, and I could even see the slightest twinkle of stars through the twilight of the sunset. “Why don’t we walk?” I suggested, wanting to enjoy the fresh air I hadn’t felt in forever.

“Okay,” he said.

We walked under the city gate and followed the road that looked like it would lead to the pagoda that the music was supposed to be next to.

“So do you have Chinese girl friend?” he asked.

I laughed. “No,” I said. “It seems like every Chinese person I meet asks me that too.”

“Me too,” he said. “I am almost 29 and when I tell them I have no girlfriend they ask me if I a gay.”

“Really?” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “I think their culture assumes everyone will be married by 25 or 26. In my culture if you get married before 25 it means you got someone pregnant. But I never got married or had serious girl friend. I was too busy studying and by the time I finished studying I decided to change major and start studying something else.”

“I can relate to that,” I said. “I’ve always kept myself busy doing stuff I wanted to do that finding time for a relationship never fit into my schedule.”

“Yes, me too,” he said. “But Chinese girls are very virgin don’t you think?”

That wasn’t the way I was used to hearing that adjective.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean they are very gentle and playful. There is a sweet almost childlike nature to them.”

It wasn’t a way that I had ever heard people described, but it was more poetic than just ranking body features.

Arafat was persistent and willing to ask for directions, even though he didn’t speak a word of Chinese. I couldn’t help but notice that everyone he asked pointed us in the opposite direction of the location on the map.

“Either this map sucks, or everyone is wrong,” I said. “I’m thinking it is the first option.”

“I love the Chinese culture,” he said. “Look at these men just sitting out playing Mahjong and the food smells fantastic. I love Chinese food. Especially in Hong Kong.”

I realized he was not as perplexed by the map delimma as I was. In fact, he didn’t really seem to care if we were going the right way. He was just enjoying the moment around him and staying connected to the conversation. I started to feel guilty. I’ve thought so much about living in the moment, but when I’m on the go, I very rarely actually do.

So I decided to re-engage. “Ya,” I said. “The food in Hong Kong was really good. But Macau was frustrating. I’ve been 17 countries now and Macau is the only one that I actually felt scared I might really be lost in.” I recanted my story of foolishly hopping on too many wrong busese.

We swapped travel stories as we walked along, with Arafat occasionally asking for help or directions from someone else (who inevitably pointed us in a different direction than everyone previously had told us to go.)

“You know in traveling,” he said at one point, “you learn that people really are different from the regime. I mean in China the regime is not so good, but the people are so friendly. When I went to Iran the regime is very scary and does awful things but the people are the kindest you will ever meet.”

“I have heard that from a lot of people,” I said. “And Russia certainly proves that too. That regime has been doing some scary things.”

“Russia feels humiliated,” he explained. “Ukraine is not their country but it is like their baby and they did not like the way it was being treated by Western world. It will blow over I think, but sometimes Russia’s regime reacts without thinking of the consequences.”

He also explained to me that Morocco was the home land of the Moor’s, as in the Islamic group that once ruled Spain, Portugal, and Northern Africa. The whole “Mor”-oco thing should have given that away, but I never put it together.

“You know Morroco was the first country to acknowledge the US as a trade partner separate from Britain,” I said.

“Yes, I know,” he said. Of course he did. The rest of the world generally knows our history better than we do. “Morroco was championing democracy around the globe before America made it cool.

As we talked more he made another point that I have firmly come to believe in my trip around China. “There are no perfect countries,” he said. “Each culture has its unique beauty.” I think that is really true. No one has the perfect government or the best system. Everyone has come up with a system they think will work, or accepted the one they have as good enough. And each culture has it’s pros and cons. For example, Americans are loud and opinionated, but they are also open and friendly to a fault. Europeans may be a bit snobby and guarded, but they are very genuine and affectionate once they let you into their social circles. And in China the people…well everything is a little different, but people are so caring and helpful, it almost makes you feel guilty. Not to mention that each country has its own traditions heritage that make it fun and unique to visit.

We finally decided to take one of those rickshaw cabs to the pagoda. Climbing in, Arafat bumped his elbow on the edge and had a shooting pain down his arm.

“In American English we call that your ‘funny bone,’” I said.

He laughed. “Why?”

“I don’t…know,” I said.

As we rode along I was struck by the fact that everything really did kind of look like Shanghai, except with fewer people, cleaner air, and way more neon.

“The new Xi’an,” Arafat said taking photos of the skyline.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

“Beautiful does not always have to be old,” he said. “Beautiful is just beautiful.”

I think that too I something I’ve come to appreciate on this trip.

When we reached the pagoda, I think we were both a little surprised at what we found. All around the courtyard there were festivities going on, but it wasn’t the live music we expected. In one area there were arcade games set up (including a bumper car arena.) In one area, street performers dressed as demons would chase little kids. I couldn’t decide if that was entertainment or just really creepy.

Arafat stopped at one vendor and asked me, “How do you say ‘Pork’?”

“Zhurou,” I said.

He tried saying it to the lady and pointing at some sausages, but she didn’t seem to understand, She just kept holding up 9 with her fingers. I tried but got the same result. Soon, she was handing us 9 of the sausages. I realized the mistake we were making was pronouncing the word as a question, which changed it to the second tone, and in turn the entire meaning of the word. We decided to try plecco.

She understood and sure enough there was pork in the sausages (so Arafat couldn’t eat them.) we bought drinks instead, which also took some work as she apparently did not want to sell me her last Mirinda. I wound up downing a Gatorade instead.

In the main courtyard of the pagoda was where the real action was. I recognized the tune of Justin Beiber’s “Love Me” before we saw the mob. In the center a large group was line dancing to the tune. No two people were really doing exactly the same thing, but it was so energetic and fun. Overhead, people were flying brightly colored and lit up kites. Smells of food wafted all around us. The atmosphere was just electrifying.

I got so lost in it, I was almost startled when Arafat called me over to take a photo for him. After we did, we watched a few more songs of the mob before it changed from line dancing to couples swing dancing.

“It’s times like this it would be nice to have a girlfriend,” I said.

He agreed.

As I watched the crowd, I smiled. Then I laughed. I realized this was the first time I had done anything like this since I started traveling. In Hong Kong I’d been frustrated because every time I ventured out, I got lost. In Beijing, I was so focused on seeing everything I wanted to  (without getting heat stroke) that I never just walked. I forgot how much fun it was to “get lost” instead of worrying about “being lost.”

We continued walking around the Pagoda seeing different vendors, brightly lit up trees, zen gardens, and artistic statues. It was about 10:30 when we decided to catch a cab back to the hostel. That also turned out to be an adventure. I’ve now ridden in 4 cabs in the past 2 weeks (more than in the rest of my life combined) and I feel like I am becoming quite the expert. That said, I had never hailed a cab before.

Surprisingly the first few I waved at didn’t stop. When one did, the driver didn’t read Chinese or English. We got out of the cab and waited for the next one. One of the ladies with a rickshaw pulled up, but when she showed her the address she said it was too far. We finally caught a cab, and despite being lost twice, he got us back for under 10RMB.

When we walked in, the kid at the front desk recognized me. He told me there were enough people to run a tour of Jingdi’s tomb tomorrow, if I would switch to the Friday Terra Cotta Warrior tour. I said I would, and he sold me a ticket.

With that, we went upstairs. I took a shower before getting on my computer to journal some more. It was so nice getting out tonight to just explore. It was also nice to not be explore alone. Looking forward to tomorrow’s adventure!