Train to Mudanjiang

PART I.

I'm on a train headed to the frozen northern edge of China. Everything outside is shades of white and gray. White farm fields, crusted with frost. Powdered low white hills glimpsed through gray cement buildings. Frozen ponds and streams like frosted window glass. Gray skies.

Along the rail line, there are towns and cities with short stretches of bare country. Most towns are made up of dilapidated buildings, covered in grime and run down to the point of looking uninhabitable. Yet signs of life are evident in the curling brown smoke from the rooftops or the occasional bundled figure outside pulling a cart. It's a stark reminder that China is not just the shiny opulence of Nanjing road or the futuristic skyline along the river in Shanghai. It's still very much a developing nation, where the rapid growth and modernization of the larger cities haven't yet reached the rest of the country.

The train is packed, and Ness and I are packed into it. Getting to the bathroom is like navigating an obstacle course. It seems they sell “standing only” tickets once the seats are filled, and people are desperate enough to get home that they don't mind standing for hours. Chinese New Year is on the 14th, and for many it is a yearly pilgrimage from the cities to hometowns, spouses, and families only ever seen during the festival. Transportation costs are tripled this time of year, which is the main reason we've decided to go by train, despite the 14-hour length. Lu is currently flying to Shenyang to meet us for the second stretch of our trip, where we change trains for an additional 13 hours into Mudanjiang.

Yesterday I spent the morning researching how to wire money, video chatting with my dad to get the number for my other credit card (left at home), and generally figuring out how to improvise financially when cut off from funds. Luckily I didn't have all my cash on me when disaster struck, so I will get by for now. Oh blessed internet, how did we do anything before you came along?

In the cold afternoon (the temperature dropped 30 degrees from the day before) we visited Lu's new apartment to drop off some stuff and then hit the Bund, the old colonial and current financial center of Shanghai. The architecture of the Bund is pure European, and as interesting as it was, it didn't feel as much a new experience as everything else thus far. Construction and haze blocked the view of the river along our route, so we spent more time on Nanjing road, this time at night when all the lights were on.

A trip to Lotus (a Walmart-like super store) proved interesting. So many strange and new foods. I spent much of the time staring at packaging trying to figure out what was actually contained inside. (Is that animal on the front a cow or a pig or maybe a dog?) All manner of fruits I've never seen, fresh, dried, and candied. Some foods looked delicious, some nauseating (I never again want to see a chicken carcass look like that!). Lays chips come in a dozen flavors unknown in the states (I recommend the kiwi and blueberry). I could have spent a few more hours there, but time was short.

We got home by what I can only describe as bicycle rickshaw. For 6 yuan (about a dollar) the bicyclists pulled us in covered seats several long city blocks to the apartment. I think the bikes were a hybrid-electric. Sometimes the driver had to pedal, sometimes he didn't. Chalk this one up as a "neat!" on my list of experiences so far in this country.

PART II.

The sleeper train was dark and full of slumbering bodies as we stumbled through it sometime after 1 a.m., following a layover in Shenyang were we met up again with Lu. She managed to get us tickets the week before (no easy task) but we were each in separate alcoves, and me with 5 strangers. The beds were stacked 3 to a wall, 6 to an alcove, slightly padded on metal jutting from the wall. It took a while to get comfortable, but it was blessedly warm and out of the freezing wind. I woke a few times to a conductor asking for a ticket, or from one of my bunk mates getting up to smoke, or the general commotion about the train. Each time I woke it took a while to register where I was. I would look about with half-closed eyes and see strange faces (some of them staring at me, as if watching me sleep) and then slowly the realization would come that I was in a train traveling through a snowy landscape in northern China and not tucked into my bed in Cali or Utah.

Cut off from Lu and Ness, if only by a short distance, I felt exposed. If someone were to ask a question, or demand something of me I'd have no idea what to say. I'd have to just smile dumbly and hope they went away. Ness has seriously impressed me with the amount of Chinese she has learned. She's able to hold a conversation if someone talks slowly, and knows enough to get by without help. So glad I'm not here alone!

I have picked up a few words and phrases, although my retention of them is slipping. One word I know I won't forget is baozi – the steamed meat-filled buns I so love. I've come to refer to 1 yuan coins as baozi qian (bun money) because one bun costs one yuan. Mmm...baozi.