Essay 6: Journal

Entry 1 – Somewhere in Beijing
I was lost—well, not really. I just didn’t know where I was going. No map. No guide. Just me and my troupe of five lovely, young women trampling through the streets of the capital. Mind you we’re not tourists, we’re ambassadors. Meet new people. Make new friends. Ni hao! Wo jiao David, ni ne?
Of the six of us, I was the only who spoke any Mandarin. My skills were limited but I took the helm at most conversation periods. Which was good because we had a ways to go. The Chinese military museum at train stop 111 was our goal. As a native New Yorker I must say the Beijing Subway System was very clean. Even the tracks shined. And what spacious traveling conditions. I could actually stretch my arms. For a city of over eight million people in a nation of one-point-three billion, there is a lot of space.
We arrived. Stop 111. We had to buy tickets to get into the museum. Luckily, our student IDs gave us discounts. I approached the ticket lady. Liu ge xuesheng. That means six students. We entered the museum, China’s impressive military history displayed before us. I recall most vividly the statue of Sun Tzu, the infamous philosopher strategist. So many statues of the Communist Era—Mao’s era. Mao’s Zedong. Guy’s freakin’ Jesus over there. Mao’s the Coca-Cola of China.

Entry Five – Xian
Days have passed and we’ve finally arrived at the ancient capital of China—800 years running. The Old City is walled off from the New. Standing atop the ramparts, I can see two worlds in time. Some of our fellow bike ride across the wall, one wearing a Michael Jackson back before the “incident.” It seems anything that’s old in America is new in China. People love him over there; MJ, not the guy wearing the shirt. To them, he’s just a bairen-white person. Me? I’m not white, but I am a waiguoren…foreigner. Not that it was a bad thing. Most people thought I was Indonesian or Southeast Asian. Can’t figure out why. Guess it depends on the perspective.

Entry 12 – Tibet
We’ve arrive at Lhasa. In the distance I can see the Potala Palace, former residence of the Dalai Lama. It’s much colder here but it is still the height of summer in this part of the world. We’re on top of the world. Of all the legs in my journey, this will be the most memorable. Tibet is fascinating. I even picked up some of the lingo—tashi delek! It’s how the locals greet one another. The most spiritual part of this adventure was visiting the many temples that dot the city’s mountainous landscape. One could breathe in the serenity of this magnificent place. I did not want to leave. I could not leave. A part of me remained there to this day.