Wonderlust

This highly unusual, rapid stretch ends with a long one. More than 24 hours long. But the fourth overnight train in seven nights will introduce Tibet and share beautiful landscapes. And I expect it to be as painless and comfortable as the preceding three. I thought I met my match when I ran up against the rootingest, tootingest Yosemite Sam of serial phlegm clearers on overnight train #3. But even he didn’t take away from the pleasure of traveling China overland into Tibet. An event or two add spice. If you consider yourself PC, skip this one. You’ve been warned.

Bidding farewell to Cillian and Kevin (Wonderlust: “Oldie but a Goodie”), I head to a massage joint before the first of my overnight trains. I know a thing or two about Chinese massages from my visits to Yours Spa on 18th back in NYC. I check my wallet–I am four visits shy of a free massage (10 needed). I call Mr. Wu at Yours to see if he accepts visit stamps from his massage bros in China. His response is…no way to treat a loyal customer asking a valid question. Frankly, I am surprised the stamps aren’t universal. Can’t we all agree on an international standard? (How about something with teeth like the Kyoto Protocol or the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty?) Let’s get our best minds on this one or I will take my massage dollars elsewhere. After four plus one more non-interchangeable visits. (For fans of the kids’ book, “The Five Chinese Brothers”, I told Mr. Wu I was speaking with the sea-swallowing massage brother.)

A sign at Mr. Wu’s admonishes, “do not promote sex act. This is real Qi-Gong bodywork. You will ask leave.” With this foundation, I am all the more surprised when the lady grabs my junk! This is Qi-Gong bodywork operating under false pretenses. I ask leave. Second thoughts. Maybe I was too hasty. It was a pretty romantic setting and she was kinda cute. She looked genuinely dismayed each of the seven times she asked a question in Mandarin, and I looked at her blankly. She could have been my soulmate. Great how-did-you-meet wedding story that will never happen thanks to my haste. I think she was trying to communicate something about her dowry.

Speaking of signs, amusements seen recently:
3) Please do not throw waste into the pond. (Idyllic setting with abundant lotus flowers and mesmerizing butterflies? Nah, bathroom sink.)
2) Please take care of your treasure. (Next to a big X on the ground of a deserted island near Hong Kong? Nope, train cabin.)
1) Take one step closer up to keep it cleaner. (At a urinal. I can’t think of another possible setting for that.)
The last wasn’t lost in translation but I calmly stood my ground. So sue me. At least I safeguard my gold chalice and bejeweled crown as advised.

Crown on head, sorta like Jughead, I hike the Great Wall from Jinshanling to Simatai. Beijingers refer to September to early November as tiangao qishuang (literally the sky is high and the air is fresh). Aided by blue skies, the Wall is every bit as surreal as I expected. Might turn out to be one of the finest days I have on the entire trip. Towards day’s end, I take it all in with Brits Tom and Pete. We rest at a breathtaking vantage point I can’t pull myself away from. We discuss the magnitude of undertaking that building the Wall must have been.

Hiker 1: I saw this t-shirt in Cairo. Just a picture of the pyramids and the caption, “Slavery gets shit done.”
Hiker 2: (incredulous laughter) Whoa, crazy t-shirt!
Hiker 3: (seriously) Cairo’s the only place they could actually sell that t-shirt. Wouldn’t want to wear it everywhere.
#2: Like the south of the U.S…But the message is…(dripping sarcasm) c’mon, slaves, don’t take yourself so seriously.
#3: (matching tone without missing a beat) yea, that was ages ago
#2: (heightening sarcasm) I have gotten past it–the question you need to ask yourselves is why haven’t you?
…
Old lady walks past quickly and energetically
#3: She used to run these walls
#2: Yea, she should really maintain her fitness better

That is to say the conversation is roughly congruous with the surrounds.

The toughest part of the overnight train extravaganza entails one into Xian in the morning and one out the same night. This leaves plenty of time for the 2200 year-old well-preserved Terra Cotta Warriors, one of China’s most popular attractions. During the day, my much needed whirlwind Xian guide Kelly tells me about China’s one-child policy and Pisho, the youngest of the mythical dragon’s nine children. Pisho has the body of a dragon and the paws of a lion (the “father” surprisingly didn’t challenge paternity. He still is unsuspectingly cordial with the lion milkman.) “Pisho can eat and eat and not go bathroom,” Kelly says. Good party trick. Patron saint of bathroom janitors, eating competition contestants, and the dumpling industry.

I have an old business contact in Beijing, Colly. He treats me to dinner and an acrobatics show. He can’t fathom that I am traveling for the year. I ask him how many children he has. The surprising answer is one; I am on top of my game. The People’s Republic only turned a blind eye to the prolific child-bearing mothers of Pisho and The Five Chinese Brothers.

I arrive in Xining, the last stop in China and launching point for the 24 hour train to Lhasa. I have two days to recharge. No massages but I eat welcome western breakfasts. I zero in on muesli, yogurt and fruit, three of my five breakfasts in the two days. I eat and ponder, happy with my time in China and excited about Tibet. I think back fondly on seeing His Holiness the Dalai Lama in NYC with my mom for Mother’s Day. He encouraged visits to Tibet despite his exile to Dharamshala, India. Leaving China and entering Tibet, I don’t have to track down a new Lonely Planet book. Tibet coverage begins on page 915 of the newly-minted China LP.

PS-Still posting by email. Go figure.