We left Friday afternoon at 12:30 after our exams to head to the Beijing train station. The train station was CRAZY. So many people, just everywhere. There were not even close to enough seats at our gate, so everyone was either standing in a huge clump or sitting on the floor on top of newspaper. Also, seemingly everyone carries these bags full of snacks when traveling. Snacks, or xiaochi (literally "little eat"), are very popular here. Each city, region, province, whatever, has their own special snacks that feature a local flavor or ingredient. In Beijing, one of the snacks is a small cookie/candy hybrid that has a chalky consistency. There are many different flavors: green tea, vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, etc. We tried a couple of these in the train station. Pretty good! Anyways, back to my point, their snack bags contain other small snacks like this, and my personal favorite, fangbian mian. Fangbian mian translates to "convenient noodle" and is basically Ramen in a disposable bowl. Just add hot water and eat! The train (actually everywhere) has hot water, so it is indeed quite convenient. I have yet to eat one of these bowls, I just like the name. You can buy them in every convenience store here, so I'm sure I'll have one soon enough. Moving on, our train ride to Datong was more or less six hours. We were on a sleeper car, which means there were triple bunk beds (three levels), plus tiny folding seats in the aisle that attach to the wall and fold down when you sit on them. We all had tickets for the actual beds, but some people just get tickets for these tiny seats for the whole six hours. However, when walking through the cars looking for the bathroom, we discovered that the cheapest tickets are not seats at all. People just stand in the aisles next to bunks. Wow, six hours is a long time to stand.
Anyways, after I tried unsuccessfully to sleep, I descended from my middle bunk bed and joined a couple of my friends sitting on a bottom bed. We started talking to a moshengren, or stranger. His Beijing accent was very heavy, and he spoke pretty fast. Needless to say, I couldn't understand a lick of what he was saying. But my two friends (who I should mention are white) are third years, so they had a little more success talking with him. Eventually the conversation shifted to me, the silent kind of asian looking one. He asked me if I was Chinese. And after awkwardly asking him to repeat himself multiple times and then eventually looking to my friends to help me out, I told him that my Dad was Chinese. At which point this man got really excited and asked why I spoke Chinese badly. So I told him that my Dad couldn't speak Chinese because he moved to America when he was very young (which isn't even true but I don't know the word for "born" so I couldn't say he was born in America). He became very offended, I guess is the best way to describe it. He started speaking very loudly (borderline yelling) and pointing his finger at me, saying that these white people can speak Chinese better than me...the conversation moved on, but sometimes he would make a point, and ask me if I understood. When I said no, he would point his finger again and speak loudly. A couple of classmates came over who are in even higher levels of Chinese, and they were slightly embarrassed for what he was saying to me. But of course I was nice and oblivious because I could just tell that he was frustrated. Granted, I realize he was just poking fun at me, as the other moshengren sitting in an nearby seat kindly pointed out, but my friends said that he was starting to get legitimately frustrated. Whoever thought Chinese heritage could be a limiting factor in China...
| sleeper car, folding seats were in the little hallway on the right |
| train station...now that's a lot of people |
| caves |
| lots o' Buddhas, big and small |
| Allison and I in a cave |
| Hanging temples! |
| view from the temple |
| Ping yao at night |
| view from the city wall |
| some parts of the street were real crowded |
| street performer |
| old tree |
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