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Journey to China

1985 Along the way

By Darryl PearcePublished 3 years ago 17 min read
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Hutong

I possess a love of travel. My journey began long before it started, in university. All told me to go to China if I wanted to learn Chinese, and most importantly Beijing, where they speak the same dialect I was studying.

The 747 flew between skyscrapers, approaching the runway. I had long heard of this and was now finally experiencing it. On arrival in Kowloon, a young man from Shanghai who was soliciting customers directed me to dormitory accommodation on the 4th floor. It was comfortable but filled with the smell of sweat and socks. The whole building hummed with the drone of air conditioners.

The day came to catch the train across the border and enter Communist China. The HongKong border guards looked smart in their crisp blue uniforms, in contrast to the comical baggy, military green of their Chinese counterparts. They appeared more relaxed.

I met an Adelaide man on the train who advised me to accompany him to the HuaQiao Hotel, near Guangzhou station. As we walked down the cul de sac, he saw a larger man beating up on a smaller. Since he had experience in martial arts, he intervened, slinging off his backpack. I thought no, not on my first day! But all was well with no resultant altercation.

The Hotel was perfect. He had a student visa and was allowed to stay. We were unsure whether I would be recognised as an Overseas Chinese, as that was the name of the hotel. I was given a simple dormitory bed on the 9th floor.

I met a group, or should I say a gang of young Xinjiang men, who offered me a smoke of hashish and tobacco, rolled in newspaper and kinked on the end. We were sitting in the mezzaine lounge and as he passed it to me, I asked if it was ok. He stood up and bellowed, "We are Xinjiang!" striking his tattooed chest. They sold hashish and operated the black market all over China.

The following day I met a group of evangelicals from America, led by an Australian in his twenties. Every morning they would sing hymns in the park whilst handing out Christian pamphlets. One lady condescendingly patted the service girl on the head. She asked about a good place for dinner so I recommended the small stalls lining the street. "Ugh!" she turned her nose up in disgust, "It will make me sick!"

Women washed cabbages in the bubbling river water. The QingPing market held every animal imaginable in cages, some for cuisine, some for traditional medicine. Dogs carcasses were strung up, their hair singed off.

I caught the train to Hangzhou and there met two individual travellers. We shared a room. Women were not permitted to share with a man unless they were married. A third to act as chaperone was acceptable. We walked by the lake and saw a man with a performing monkey. A photographic unit from a travel company spied them and asked if they would appear in a travelogue as they were young, beautiful and crisp. Hangzhou and neighbouring Suzhou are renowned throughout China for the beauty of their women and this was true. The next day I departed for Shanghai.

Hot water was available to all onboard the train. Rubbish was thrown directly to the floor and swept up later. Ablutions fell to the tracks. Hard sleeper consisted of three bunks. A small table and two seats lined the other side. We passed open fields and small clumps of dwellings. A solitary cart and horse followed the track between.

A young chap I met in Hong Kong had given me the address of a professor from Shanghai so I set off in search of his house. I thought twice as I re-checked and entered the compound of Public Security. The house was a five storey mansion and they were returned the fifth floor following the Cultural Revolution. On the walls of the stairwell were slogans painted in bold red: Long Live Mao ZeDong! Long Live the Communist Youth League! Love Live Marxist-Leninist Thought! The intention was to return the rest of the house to them once the soldiers could find new barracks.

I ate lemon meringue with savoury meats on a single plate for lunch with chopsticks. The Pujiang Hotel, near the just as famous Seaman's Club, was in fact infamous for a rat which supposedly nibbled toes as one slept.

From there I travelled to Nanjing by ferry, a grey and dismal place. I soon left to climb Taishan, a mountain celebrated in Daoist literature. I passed labourers bearing loads of bricks balanced on the ends of a bamboo pole across their shoulders. I was told they were paid 1kuai 50fen per load. At the top I stayed in the hotel where it was so cold my toothbrush stood upright in a cup of frozen water.

The following day I bought a ticket at the local station and boarded the train for my destination, Beijing. The conductor asked for my ticket and asked why I had a Chinese priced ticket. I answered that I bought it at the ticket window. Foreigners were required to pay only in foreign exchange certificates and a 75% surcharge. China had two forms of money, one exchanged for foreign exchange and the other for local use. Thus, a black market existed where one could exchange 100kuai FEC for 150-80kuai renminbi.

He asked if I would find the dining car more comfortable. I asked if it came with a charge and then declined. So he left. I proceeded to brush the tangles from my hair. A man seated beside me said it took me ten minutes!

In the morning the train pulled into Beijing Station. After alighting I bought a boxed lunch, the best I ever had. Pork stirfried with soya sauce and plenty of garlic on a bed of rice. I lavished it. I made my way to the subway station.

Commuters were few and far between. All stations were empty and spotless. I climbed the stairs and emerged in a desolate place. Was this the country of a billion people? I found the bus station, and the bus.

We arrived outside the Beijing Yuyuan Xueyuan and walked to the gate. The gateman asked my ID and business. He allowed me entry and I walked to the dormitory building. One dormitory bed cost 9kuai per night. Each room had a radiator, and a basin. It was comfortable and cheap. Radiators turned on at a certain date north of the Yangtze, regardless of temperature. The only other legal dormitory to stay in was the QiaoYuan Hotel south of Xiamen. Hot water was available at all times. Chinese students and teachers had access to the boiler all Thursdays. Foreign students, however, only received hot water from 7pm to 9pm Mon to Thurs.

I inquired at the registrar about a course in Chinese. They offered to halve the annual fees for one semester. This was the first time someone smiled when I told them I was half Chinese. I recalled times in the playground when children surrounded me chanting, "Chink! Chink!" I accepted and returned to HongKong to cash in my return ticket. Before returning I spent three months exploring and relaxing in Guangzhou. I went to the station in the early morning to buy my ticket. A mob had gathered and I thought is it a fight to reach the ticket window? Then a tall local Public Security Officer arrived. He thrust a man squarely in the chest, who staggered backwards three metres. "Paidui! Paidui!" he bellowed. Line up, line up! Though he was a solitary figure, the crowd followed obediently.

Back at the Beijing Language Institute, now called the Beijing Language and Culture University, a Danish man was rolled in more ways than one through expensive short courses. He was furious and envious of me. Japanese students filled most of the other spaces.

The institute consisted of students from all over the world; countries I had never heard of. There were more than four hundred Africans. I conversed in Chinese with some, though French was most widely spoken in their countries.

In my building of five stories, there were only three non-Africans. One of them, an Australian geologist, was angry at a group of Africans one night when they were partying in their room and hurling empty beer bottles from the window. The Chinese opposite mimicked their antics. He ran outside and abused them, calling them a bunch of animals. I thought he was either stupid or crazy!

The Palestinian students never smiled. China was one of few countries at that time to recognize the Palestine Liberation Organization. One man from their Embassy, quite the opposite, was jolly and loved chatting up the Japanese girls. He was trapped in China, a wanted man in most other countries.

The dormitory buildings were fumigated regularly. One morning, minutes after the alarm was broadcast, a young man came running out coughing and sneezing. The canteen served cheap, delicious food for tokens. One could order eggs scrambled or fried for breakfast. Cottage cheese appeared a few days after yoghurt. Rice was sold in rectangles of 50g.

The African scholarship students often played soccer on the basketball courts and regular matches were played against the Chinese on the oval, sometimes erupting in a brawl. They never amounted to anything more than hot wind.

One afternoon an African student riding the bus was hit by a stone thrown by a girl on the street. He alighted and dragged her to the Public Security Office. They were detained for a few hours. News spread quickly and two crowds formed at Wudaokou, a nearby market junction, one Chinese, one African. Just after dark I cycled into the crowd of Africans forgetting that I had cropped hair and was dressed in army green. Luckily a few knew me. I left before matters deteriorated.

Maulidi from Tanzania was hit be a car late one night. He was found unconscious and bleeding. He was never the same after this. His speech was slurred and one eye was dull, as though he had suffered a stroke.

I began teaching to feed myself as I had forfeited my return fare. I worked at the Beijing Capital Medical Hospital, formerly the Anti-American Hospital during the Cultural Revolution, as a conversational English teacher. The driver used to turn the engine off downhill to save fuel in an old Shanghai model car. He would pick me up each time in front of the school. One short chubby female official always said she was a small potato, someone with little influence. A professor was compiling a book on traditional Chinese medicine.

Our class consisted of students from India, Pakistan, Nepal and Bangladesh. One lady was an Arts Professor from Bangladesh. The teacher wrote with swift bold strokes on the fresh blackboard. Rat-a-Tat went his furious strokes. He was most earnest and upright in posture. His speech was sharp and direct.

The other teacher was placid and offered me lessons in the evenings in exchange for guidance with Chinese. Most of our time she spent helping me. I held a secret crush for her. Houzi Laoshi was stout and jolly, always offering teaching positions in Chongqing, a humid, muddy and hilly city. She was a kind lady.

During breaks we purchased a variety of fried breads. Usually liangpiao or grain coupons were demanded to purchase any wheat product. Vendors would tear off a portion of the ticket. Concerned strangers would offer students their surplus coupons. Such kindness. On the street it was not uncommon for strangers to reach into your purse and ensure you received correct change.

The Institute took us on trips to a military combat exhibition and the famous Beijing Opera. Three soldiers crept up on a solitary figure from behind and flung him to the ground. They then stood him up and dusted him down, the dust flying away in clouds. The Beijing Opera was loud with the clashing of cymbals so we ventured into the streets of Ximen. A man in this district lured country girls seeking work in the city, cut up their bodies and stored them in the freezer. He would make renroubaozi, human flesh steamed buns and sell them from a cart. I made sure never to eat there.

Dongdang was the shopping thoroughfare with trolley cars clanging down the street. Medical instruments such as Dentist's teeth pullers were sold over the counter. Department stores were packed with customers who reverberated in rhythmic waves from the pavement through the doors and up the wooden escalators.

One day whilst riding back from Tiananmen Square, a policeman called from his central pedestal, "The one turning left, the one turning left!" He pursued me and with a vice like grip steered me to the right hand curb. He snatched the badge from the mudguard as I feigned ignorance. I returned and he demanded payment of 1kuai5mao. I had to pay as the bicycle belonged to the New Zealand Embassy and was in the care of my roommate.

His Chinese tones were perfect only when he sleep talked. In class the teacher requested he stop reading when she said gou. He thought she said gou. The confusion here was that Chinese has four tones and he thought she said enough, you may stop reading.

We sometimes ate Peking Duck, Beijing Kaoya. Prices ranged upwards from 25yuan. Beijing Kaoya was also delivered by three wheeled cycles with flat trays. It only cost twelve fifty and tasted just as good, but minus the luxury of duck tongues. We called it dial-a-duck.

I loved visiting the Great Wall of China. In all, I travelled there by bus, private car, taxi, steam engine and minibus. I even climbed it with crutches. It was the only route to offer return tickets. One time my roommate and I walked for three hours and slept the night in one of the sentry stations. Two soldiers saw us but did not say anything. My roommate chuckled when he saw the stones I had prepared for our pillows. We snuggled together during the freezing night and both awoke in the morning with ganmao, the local flu which produced globules of thick mucus. They offered hot powdered milk for sale at the train station. Three girls; one to serve, one to receive cash and one to wash. It warmed us in the cold morning. It was quiet at the Great Wall, far from the bustle of the city. You could hear birds singing. It stretched as far as the eye could see, conquering the highest peaks, it snaked into the distance.

A small privately run stall near the school served cold Sichuan wheat noodles with an assortment of sauces and delicious sliced cucumber. Frozen pig carcasses were delivered directly onto the asphalt outside restaurants during winter. Sometimes one had to remove small gravel stones from the rice. I ordered a pork dish and was surprised to find strips of pork fat, but it tasted delicious. In winter, cabbages formed huge mountains on balconies. Trucks trundled the streets piled high.

Favourite dishes were fresh stir fried beans in spring and summer, yuxiangqiezi, a fish tasting egg plant and chilli prawns, bought from Beijing's first privately owned restaurant called Xiaoxiaojiujia. Steamed dumplings were cheap but often sold out. Wheat noodles were staple of the north whilst in the south rice was preferred.

Muslim students often slaughtered their own animals such as lambs and chickens. My neighbour from Morocco cooked chicken with cummin and potato. During Ramadan they would party all night. I would join them and go to work with little sleep.

Spring welcomed the onset of sowing. The moist, warm smell of nightsoil drifted on the breeze, human manure fertilizer. One would pedal furiously to pass the horsedrawn cart laden with a tank of manure. They shared the narrow roads with bicycles, three wheelers, trucks, buses and vehicles. Elderly comrades sold red bean icecream sticks from small wooden carts. Uighyurs from Xinjian Province sold shashliks roasted over coals. These were lamb kebabs simply flavoured with salt, cummin and chilli powder. They deftly flicked their wrists to spread the condiments.

I began working at the International School of Beijing. They employed two drivers, two carpenters and two cleaning ladies through the Diplomatic Service Bureau. The Chinese government charged foreign wages whilst taking a percentage, but for the local Chinese, it was higher pay than elsewhere. One day the science teacher requested a cow's brain. I rang an abattoir who said they could sell me a cow head. We picked it up late in the day. It was frozen and with nowhere else to put it we hauled it into the trough in the girl's toilet immediately left of the school entrance. In the morning a distraught principal confronted me and told me the girls will have nightmares. We moved it to the carpenter's hut. They asked if they could eat the remains after the dissection. The science teacher was well pleased as she could show her students the optic nerve etc.

A Jordanian student organized a protest rally against the US and was due to pass in front of the school. The principal requested we bring the bicycles inside the compound. I asked one cleaning lady if she knew why and wild eyed she cried, "The Libyans are coming!"

Through the school, I met the US Military Attache and babysat his children for a week. I guessed he was attending a briefing of the Libya bombing. Their pantry was crammed with American goods. The cook came at lunch and dinner. He would cook, serve, wash up and leave the kitchen spotless. It was a completely different existence in this foreign enclave.

I met a family pantomime troupe. Father and mother composed. Mother played piano and father was the main performer. His 17 year old daughter and young son filled the troupe. They performed in the Great Hall of the Little People, which was the assembly hall of the school. Pavarotti performed one night. I tried to gain them entrance with me as I was chaperone for schoolchildren selected for the performance, but the guard denied them.

I attended my first Burn's Night at the British Embassy. Haggis was piped in by a piper flown in by British Airways. It was a wonderful evening but was tarnished by a very drunk lady who was insulting me for being local Chinese. I thought, this should not be happening to me in China. One cannot however, escape racism.

A British friend worked as a polisher for the China Daily. He was once flashed by a man on a bicycle. He compiled a copycat front page of the paper. There was a famous marijhuana plant that used to grow outside the Public Security Office in Kunming and just out of town was the Stone Forest of standing rocks. He said he was out of his tree in the stoned forest! He also wrote Cockney rhyming slang with Chinese overtones: He fell flat on what he called the Gang of Four, Help me get him back on his Harbin icicle. A funny one was, 'My throat is as dry as a frog in the Gobi.'

A party was held beneath a Chinese teaching building one night. Entrance was through a hole in the ground and a tunnel about a metre and a half high which opened into a series of gradually heightening brick rooms. The only western toilets were to be found down here. We passed a couple of lovers kissing as we volleyed over the perimeter fence.

When I arrived in China two campaigns were under way. One was the Campaign Against Spiritual Pollution and the other the Campaign Against Bourgeoise Liberalization. I had a naive, romantic notion of the peasant revolution and life under a communist regime, but to be present around such class consciousness aroused me.

The government also ran education programmes with tables and tents erected on street corners with microscopes to show people the bacteria living in spittum which they spat at will. A fine of 1yuan50fen was imposed for spitting and later for littering. People would deftly deseed sunflower seeds between their teeth, spitting shells onto the pavement. This reminds me of an incident on the way home. Bicycle accidents were commonplace. People would calmly park and gather in a circle to listen to the altercation. People would lean on the shoulders of those in front, often four or five deep. Invariably, a mediator emerged from the crowd. The protagonists would have a cigarette. I encountered such a crowd, but it was not an accident. One comrade had thrown three matchsticks on the pavement. Another insisted he apologize and pick them up. The perpetrator maintained that streetsweepers were employed to clean. He further pressed him for self-criticism. This would never happen in my country and seldom in the Western world.

The 1980s was a unique period in contemporary China. There was an optimism that led to the democracy protests of 1989 which were brutally suppressed. Like backstreet hutongs, much of what I have related has been lost to history. I could write volumes on short sojourn. I hope my meanderings cast some light on a different life in a different era.

I encourage all to venture into the world and discover what awaits you. Forge the gap between nations, peoples, religions and narrow the divide. To find a voice you never knew inside.

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