The Morning After

I am restless this morning and find it hard to sleep, but I don't have the energy to do anything but lay in bed. I drift in and out and the light filtering in through the curtains becomes brighter. I begin to hear the tricycle vendors ride by. These guys ride down the streets in a three wheeled bicycle, the back two wheels supporting a load of something he's peddaling. I've seen them carry stacks of round black 'bricks' that are actually fuel, potatoes, sugar cane and other things that I can't identify. As they slowly peddle by they shout out what they are selling. I don't think I've ever heard them before from the room, and its probably because I'm usually out of the room by this time. Their shouts are a little like what you hear at a baseball game, stressing mostly vowel sounds; beeeeer-heeeaaar! However the tonal quality of these vendors shouts lack the optimism that ballpark vendors have; beer vendors know that everyone wants beer. I don't think these people have the same assurances. The result is a sound that reminds me of a trapped animal, baying to the wind.

This begins to wear on my nerves while I toss and turn in bed. I want them to stop. I want them to sell everything they have and go away. It makes me think of my own situation too much. I feel down. Before yesterday I felt so strong. My big backpack was heavy and I had to walk long distances with it, but it was no problem. I walked. When my shin began to hurt, I stretched it out as best I could and carefully continued. It was no problem. Today, I get up to go to the bathroom and its an effort. I pull my winter jacket on and shuffle through the hallway, outside and into the cold bathroom. When I return, I collapse into bed, my energy drained.

By early afternoon I feel good enough to get up for things besides the bathroom. I decide that I probably need to get some salt into my system. I've been drinking a lot of water to keep myself hydrated, but I haven't felt like eating a thing. Luckily there are a lot of convenient services including a little store that has a small number of a variety of things. Its a mix of necessity and indulgence. Toilet paper, kleenex, candy bars, cookies; Bottled water, bottled juice, Coke, Beer. Because there are so many things here its hard to know exactly what they have. The woman who operates the counter is very friendly but doesn't understand much english, so you can't ask. I want crackers but I see a line of potato chips, and that seems like a safe bet.

I scan the potato chip flavors, some of the few english words on the bags. Hmm. Looks like she carries Lays potato chips in flavors "Spicy Goose", "Peking Duck", some sort of shrimp based flavor and something with tomatos. Nothing is just a plain potato chip. I desparately scan the flavors again and the surrounding snacks for something else I could eat, but I don't see anything. I point at the tomato flavor and pull out an orange juice from the refrigerated cooler. I put these on the counter and she pulls out a loaf of bread and points at the date on the bag; 11-28-2002. Its today. Its fresh. Ok, I'll get a few slices. There are two variety of bread, 'Sweet' and 'Salty'. Yet another incongruous choice for this western mind. Don't they have wheat bread? Maybe some rye? I get three slices of 'sweet'.

Back in the room I eat some of the potato chips which are bright orange. They taste alright though. I eat a slice of the sweet bread. Its close enough to white bread and isn't that sweet, but its pretty doughy. About an hour later I deposit the chips I'd eaten into the sink, still just as orange as ever. I guess my stomach wasn't quite ready for tomato potato chips. I start to think about food. Suddenly lasagna pops into my mind and its all I want. I no longer trust any food here and the thought of some nice cheese and spinach lasagna sounds so good to me. But all I have is half a bag of tomato potato chips some water and some sweet bread.

Late afternoon someone brings me some plain crackers ("the blander the better" I say when she confesses they are a little stale) and a banana. I eat a few crackers and half the banana. An hour later things are still safely in storage. By early evening I'm feeling more solid. I have a headache, but I don't feel hot and I don't feel I'm in danger of throwing up. It helps that my roomate Andrew has been in the room for the past few hours. We've been talking and its helped keep my mind occupied.

Andrew works as an art director in the Australian film industry and recently started moving towards production. He worked on the Australian version of "Temptation Island" on Fiji and he tells me a little about it. "The contestants on that show were just terrible, awful people". He's been traveling in China for about a month and tomorrow he leaves for London to meet up with friends for a few weeks. Then he's heading down to Africa. His plane arrives in Kenya and several months later he's got a fligth out of South Africa. He'll be winging everything inbetween.

Most people I've talked to while in China are on long trips. In fact I think everyone is either traveling for either 8 months to a year. Its hard for me to imagine. Maybe after a while you get used to bouncing around. Here at the hostel, there is a constant flee market of clothes, books and travel advice. People come and go, like minded travellers pair up, weary travel companions split and head different directions. Its a transient lifestyle. I've only been traveling for one month and I'm already getting a little tired of scanning my guide book for the cheapest hotel and the best sites to see. With few exceptions, this seems to be the norm. City after city is found and conquered. The highlights are ticked off one by one and then its time to move on. I know there must be something more and I know that some people have found it. Maybe Beijing isn't really the right city to find that something for me. I know Shanghai wasn't. I think Brendan, the boy that picked up chinese in a few weeks and then left the hostel to move in with friends found it. He had moved beyond what others in the Hostel considered 'Beijing'.

There are some things, however, you simply have to see. Tomorrow is my last full day in Beijing and I still haven't seen the wall. I set my alarm for 7am, eat a few more stale crackers and hope for the best. Outside my room I can hear the lively chatter as people smoke and drink in the community room. I fall asleep.