Another Night On The Tracks

So here I am. Feeling quite emotional and uneasy, sitting at what one may call an extremely filthy spot on a carpet next to the gang way of a night train from Beijing to Shenyang, directly underneath the ash tray next to a squat toilet both of which shared by about another 50 Chinese passengers in the dim sleeping carriage that I could see directly in front of me. Having seen about 500 people sitting/sleeping/squatting outside the train station on the chipped and filth stained cobble stone earlier this evening, this is nothing really.

Templeton and I are drinking beer here. I hope this is not offensive to the locals. I need it to numb this anxious feeling inside me and to chill me out a bit so I can sleep. We chew on the dried cuttlefish we bought at a supermarket near Beijing train station, and have a packet of air-tight-sealed dog meat tucked away in the cabin. The train guard walks over to us, perhaps a little concerned, about to say something. maybe like, go to bed and don't throw the butt on the carpet, but he wasn't quite sure how or what, so he shakes his head and walks away.

I am slightly overwhelmed about being in China. More so than anywhere else I've been to so far. Its stressful. I am all of the following: a Taiwanese person with a political indifference visiting the suspicious and often feared China for the first time; an ethnic Chinese grownup overseas coming to a so called homeland of a heritage and tradition that is so mystical, rich in history, often fantasised about but yet so dismissive of those that have given up on the Chinese way of life; Western raised person basically in completely culture shock; an ethnic Chinese person dating an equally culturally shocked Australian and finding a place somewhere between reinterpreting various situations to him and then the same thing back to the curious Chinese people watching and judging us intensively.

If it wasn't for the never ending lumping sound of the train tracks I would probably hear them snore and yawn. But one thing I could hear is the sound of a large bloke at the sink drawing phlegm loudly out of his throat. In our cabin four slightly plump middle aged men wearing nothing but boxers are asleep like quadruplet babies in cots. Train journeys are those fascinating things that always reveal a little more of my world to myself and never stops to surprise me, both along the way and when I get there. I hope they welcome this little girl to China. I'm not here to raise hell, but nevertheless I know its gonna be a good ride.

A bleak cornfield on the way to Shenyang