As you can guess by this title, I’m going for a Western theme. Not Western as in west of China but as in John Wayne, good guys/bad guys and riding off into the sunset, leaving Ms. Kitty behind.
And no, I do not REALLY die. That, like in the movies, is just make believe. Otherwise it would be very strange for me to still be writing blog entries, don’t you think?
Ok, we’ve had a nice chuckle, now on for the story… and the ensuing laughs.
Over dinner the other night I confided to Sam something I’ve already shared with you in the Chong Qing series of posts. Traveling with Gary and Mask showed me my glum future as a lone traveler in China. While I will get to see touristy things, and touristy things are indeed nice, I will not be treated to ‘real’ China: where people call each other ‘friend’ no matter where they hail from, where people help travelers out and get downright neighborly, even if it is just for a minute. Not that I mind touristy things, but I know in my heart that I am missing out on the soul of China while I snap pictures of tourist attractions.
The truth is, no matter how well I speak and understand Chinese, I am not and will never be Chinese. No matter how long I live here, to the Chinese I will always be a foreigner. Certain hotels will not be able to lodge me. Certain restaurants will not serve me. Observing and taking part of cultural rituals will be denied me no matter how much I want to take part in them, because of my ‘foreigner’ appearance.
That topic came up in conversation on Thursday evening because, with winter vacation two weeks away and Gary and Mask not always available, I’m planning some trips on my own. Sam broached this topic with me after he met Gary on Tuesday night. Sam being responsible for me 24/7, he has been curious about my newfound friends since I started talking about them. He wanted to make sure that my traveling companions would take good care of me.
Sam is now resting assured. He has met Gary, and on that occasion, Gary presented me with two new sets of earrings he picked up for me on his latest trip to Beijing. Really: Gary and Mask spoil me so!
Now back to that sad disclosure, the one where I’m missing out on China even as I travel through this beautiful and sometimes poignant land. You see, I was speaking figuratively when I told Sam that some doors will forever be closed to me. He took me literally. Only after I explained what I meant did he understand that I did not mean an actual door, slamming in my face.
Conversing with my good friend Sam is so easy I sometimes forget that English is not his first language. Sometimes he does not get the nuances and pictures our language paints.
And so I erupted into gales of laughter. Not at Sam, and certainly not because of his disability in grasping the subtleties of the English language, but at the mental picture his misunderstanding created…
At the edge of town stands Sophie-the-Kid, her pack pulling her shoulders back and a pouch slung low on her hips. The sleepy burg, no more than two streets a’cross, lay below. A saloon on the left, the bank and post office on the corner. Some shops lining the street and the general mercantile dominating the block. The courthouse on the right, just before the bank. Beyond that, the feed co-op, a few houses and, at the far end of town the school and then it is back out and to the open plains beyond. Would there be a hotel for this traveler to rest her weary bones?
All the townsfolk knew there would be foreigners coming to their idyllic little village eventually. With their country opening up to the greater world, it would only be a matter of time before some stranger made it to these parts.
And what a stranger! Standing 6 feet tall, with her big nose, and short hair cut into a bob blowing in the breeze and dust on her shoes from all her travels, she cuts an intimidating figure. Shading her eyes with one upraised arm, she slowly makes her way down the thoroughfare into the heart of the town, her footsteps raising equal parts of dust and doom.
Even with the blacksmith’s place is when the cry rang out: “Foreigner!” the smithy’s ‘prentice hollered. The warning rang through the midday drowse.
Instantly the townsfolk swung into action. Windows were barred and doors locked. The merchants hurried their wares off the sidewalks. The general store had too much to carry in so they left their goods out, where the stranger could get to them, if she wanted them. A mother snatched her baby off the street. On the crossroad a lone dog howled.
Everyone watched the foreigner make her way into town. Through shutter slats and dainty laced curtains, working folk and rich folk alike tracked her progress and puckered their brow at the ruin this stranger might cause. Some kids hiding under a porch drove a projectile toward the stranger with their slingshot, but missed. And where was the law? Would the man with the badge confront this latest trouble and save the town?
By now Sophie-the-Kid has made it to the crossroads. The saloon’s batwing doors precede the gloom within, but no sign of life inside discourages her from entering. In the intersection she turns around, looking for a friendly face or an open place. There was none to be found. It seems even the Law would hide from this new arrival.
Dispirited, Sophie-the-Kid moves on…
Sorry, no gunplay in this story. Guns are not allowed in China. I only slew her with laughter.
All of this rolled before my mental eye in a flash. As the scene got more and more elaborate – adding the mother snatching the baby off the street was a particularly nice touch, don’t you think? – so the gusts of laughter grew until I was unable to catch my breath and tears came streaming down my face.
We were in the newly opened Teacher’s Cafeteria in the construction zone, one building away from my apartment. It was virtually deserted; only a few diners lingered over their drinks. The staff had just sat down to their dinner at the table next to ours, presumably to get a good eyeball full of ‘the foreigner’, a phenomenon that I deal with on a regular basis. That kind of added to the effect of the movie playing in my head and made me laugh even harder.
Now I’m laughing so hard that I actually have to cover my face because I’m crying and I’ve run out of tissues to blot my tears with. My face is so red it looks like I’m nearing apoplexy. Sam, who has no idea why I’ve suddenly taken leave of my senses and am making like a hyena looks on, nonplussed.
His puzzled expression makes me laugh even more. Now I don’t know when the last time was that I laughed so hard and for so long. Maybe since I had the idea to toss my son’s dog off the balcony instead of the dog’s ball.
Finally I get a grip on myself and manage to tell Sam what got me going. It took a few tries but, once I got the story out he too started laughing. With more decorum, of course. Sam is Chinese and it would not do for him to break down so completely, as I did.
I, that bumbling foreigner to whom the doors to China’s mysteries will forever be closed.
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