From Ping Xiang with love

(Ping Xiang in the corner of Jiangxi province)
(My student and her lovely parents at their restaurant).
(They made some good food in their kitchen).
(The cave we trekked through).
(Some little kiddos at an English school).
(We reached the bottom of the mountain on a motorcycle).
(The amazing countryside).


Oh, where to begin? I survived and thrived the past few days in Ping Xiang, although I'm a bit sleep deprived and overstimulated. Caution: read this blog/novel at your own risk. It's long!

Day 1:
My student "W" and I left Nanchang on the fast train, which is only a few months old. Getting on the new train was just like getting on an old train--there was the usual crush of people surging to get through the gates, while soldiers and police were trying to keep order. But the train was quite swanky. It looks like a bullet and was the nicest train or moving vehicle I've ever been in. Since the tickets were 90 kuai ($12), only the middle or upper class could afford it. So we rode at 200 km/hour in the lap of luxury (we were even served "Tibetan spring water") for a mere 2 hours, to reach the far corner of Jiangxi province.

W and I just looked at the vast countryside and mountains outside the window for the entire time. Everything was so green and beautiful. People were stooped over in the rice paddies with water sloshing around their ankles. Some men guided their water buffalo through the fields, tilling the soil. These scene was repeated outside our window the entire trip. Occasionally the farmers would peer up from their work to gaze at this shiny, new train. They probably imagined a different world--one that was out of their reach. I looked at the pampered little Chinese children inside the train and then at the barefoot, dirty children outside in the rice paddies. How can some parts of China be so modern, and others still so ancient and poor?

We arrived in Ping Xiang, a sizeable city surrounded only by countryside. W's very enthusiastic 21 year-old cousin, "Kathy," greeted us outside the train gate, just busting with excitement. Kathy was a very special person, who was kind and spoke some English, but a bit spoiled, immature, flaky, and showy with her money (like always wearing faux fur collars). Next to Kathy stood her 30 year-old fiancee, who is decidely middle class. He has a very good job, and shuttled us around in his nice, new Buick for most of the weekend. To have a car is something amazing in China, but to have a Buick with tinted windows means you've made it in the world.

We were immediately driven to W's parents' restaurant in the middle of the pretty city. A small crowd of about 15 or 20 people was standing in front of the restaurant for this occasion--to welcome the foreigner. We were whisked into a room in the restaurant, where I was surrounded by many uncles, cousins, parents, brothers, aunts, etc. They all were so excited and just smiled and smiled and smiled. We were served many courses of special meats, a big fish with its head, eel or snake or something, and plenty of vegetables. It was a very grand party, and they made sure to stuff me. I felt very welcomed.

At about 8 p.m. Kathy and her fiancee drove us to the big revolutionary square to see the sights. I think every city in Jiangxi has a huge square dedicated to the revolution. We then commenced to play bumper cars, and even danced. There were hundreds of couples dancing national dances in the square for exercise. After that we had to go shopping until 11 p.m. Kathy looked at every possible shiny, sparkly item in the world, and bought plenty. I certainly wasn't as eager about shopping, and I think she was disappointed. All foreigners like shopping, right? And later, Kathy's friend told me how surprised she was that I didn't talk about myself all the time. All foreigners like talking about themselves, right?

Anyway, then they drove us to Kathy's parents' (W's aunt and uncle's) apartment, where we stayed. It was large and new for China, and decorated in plenty of frills and sparkly things. There was a squatty potty AND a Western toilet in the one bathroom. There was also a Buddha statue in the living room, which the aunt offered food sacrifices (packaged Chinese food) and incense to every day.

Day 2:
After breakfast we drove in the Buick to the countryside and mountains. We passed plenty of rice paddies and water buffalo. We also passed plenty of people trudging alongside the road balancing heavy loads on the end of pole across their shoulders, and some amazingly old-looking people trudging uphill with just a walking stick and patched clothes and a pack on their backs. Who knew where they were going, or how long until they reached their destination. Maybe they had been trying to reach their destination their whole lives.

We arrived at a cave where people say a dragon died a long time ago. So for the next 3 hours and 5,000 meters we trekked up through this cave, but didn't spot a dragon. Most of the cave was very narrow and maybe only 5 feet in height. I spent most of the time bent in half. There were a lot of colorful lights every once and a while, but then I think they ran out of lights. So it got steadily darker and more intense, with bats flying around and water dripping on us.

I don't exactly enjoy caves or small spaces for extended periods of time, but somehow I didn't go insane. I just thought to Him in my head pretty constantly and tried to encourage my cave-hiking buddies. Once and a while we would come upon other people trudging through the cave also. A suprising number of them were little old men who were smoking whole packs of cigarettes.

Toward the end of the cave there was an open space with a gigantic Buddha statue. Incense was burning, and some people were paying their respects in this eerily dark place. Even a little boy was bowing and I felt very sad at that moment. I wondered if anyone had told them the Good News, or if they would ever get to hear it. The motionless, idle stone statue didn't have anything to offer.

We finally reached the end of the cave, which came out at the top of a mountain. Somehow we had to get back down the mountain. After walking around plenty of rice paddies and cows, some men on motorcycles said they could take us down the mountain for 10 kuai. So we all smashed on the motorcycles and I sat behind a driver and my student.

Our driver commenced to speed down the incredibly windy, narrow mountain road at a million kilometers per hour. He zig-zagged around other motorcycles, people hiking, and even farm animals. Who needs helmets or slow driving speeds? I thought I'd fly off the back and plunge into the valley at every bump and turn and abrupt stop. It was one of the few times I thought for sure I'd die, but I didn't. Even though it was terrifying, it was also one of the most exciting moments--feeling like you might die, but knowing you'll have a great story if you survive.

Not much else happened the rest of the day, but W and I went back to her family's restaurant for dinner. She and I sat at a huge 1o person table by ourselves, and her parents brought us 7 or 8 dishes of amazing food, which we could barely make a dent in.

Day 3:
On Saturday, W and I walked to a neighborhood where her cousin Kathy owns her own English school. Don't ask me how or why this 21 year-old with and lower English than my students and not much common sense is able to have her own little English school. So for about 6 hours I got to "talk" to the 80 students at the school.

Most of the students were 7-12 years old. Many of them screamed when they saw me. Others clutched their hearts and gasped. Plenty more hid under their desks. I felt like a really big monster. But after awhile they warmed up to me, and I asked them questions and helped them play games. I felt also felt like Santa Claus, because Kathy wanted every kid to have his/her own picture with me. I was wondering in my head if I could get paid for this.

Later W and I finally got to visit her home. It is an old 3- story building near the outskirts of town. Her grandfather, who had fought in the "war to protect North Korea from the Americans," had built the house many years ago. Her grandmother and some other random elderly people live in two big rooms on the first floor. Her grandma was probably about 4'8" and had been a teacher. She was so kind and had insisted that other old people without families stay with them. So I also saw some old people in ancient beds. They didn't look very alive.

We looked at the rest of the house, which workers were fixing up. It was more like a concrete building than a home, but W is very fond of the place. We also peered into one room which wasn't being repaired. It smelled of incense, and had several shrines of Buddha in it. There were also black-and-white photos of deceased relatives, and a very old bust of Chairman Mao. W told me this was her grandma's "room" to talk to Buddha. I didn't say anything, but inside I felt very heavy with the thought that her grandma was talking hours a day to something or someone who didn't exist and could never have any answers.

As we were going back down the narrow steps, W's father in Chinese asked W what I believed in. She said very matter-of-factly that I believed in [the Son]. Speaking of beliefs, W and I had the opportunity to talk about some life issues on several occasions. Her family is definetely Buddhist, but we got to share with each other about what we believe and why. W is a very independent and rather difficult person to love, but I feel that this adventure helped her open up more, and we got to know each other a lot better.

Day 4:
It was with a really heavy heart that we left Ping Xiang early this morning. I had to say goodbye to her huge, dear family over a steaming bowl of pork noodles at 6 a.m. They overwhelmed me with their hospitality, kindness, and generousity. They fed me so many meals, never let me pay for anything, put their lives on hold for several days, and even gave me presents.

I gave them some little gifts from Kansas and tried out my paltry Chinese communication skills, but it paled in comparison to all the meals, tour guiding, 2 hand-knit sweaters, fancy thermos, and memories they gave me. They pulled out all the stops, and I was really honored. I could never repay them, but they don't want me to. They just loved me, I loved them, and I got to practice my patience and speaking Chinese more than I ever have this whole time I've been in China.

So W and I waved goodbye as we left Ping Xiang on the oldest train in China, probably. We rode hard seat for 5 hours back to Nanchang. The train was incredibly dingy and uncomfortable, but I felt more at ease traveling this way like the majority of Chinese than on the fancy fast train. At one stop, dozens of other people got onto our car. They only had standing tickets, because they either couldn't afford the seats (22 kuai/3 dollars) or all the seats were sold out because of the holiday.

We trudged and chugged all the way back to Nanchang on our nicely out-dated, authentically communist train. We passed all the same fields and mountains we had seen just a few days before from a different vantage point and maybe from a different perspective. Is that cheesy? Maybe. But I do feel like I had grown and changed in the past few days. I think He gave me patience and grace to love and be loved by these people in a way I didn't think was possible.

The End.

(Here's a video of the train ride today and before the train got crowded).