Ik sta stil voor een van de vele winkeltjes met kitscherige souvenirs in de nauwe straten van Xi’an. Mijn oog is gevallen op t-shirts met afbeeldingen uit De Blauwe Lotus. Ik schrik me wild van de stem achter me.
“Ah, kuifjah. Kom binnen in onzah winkl, kom binnen. Welkah maat? Medium? Mooiah t-shirts, dit Blauwah Lotus, deze Shanghai, hier Xi’an. Wij makeh goedah prais omdat wij maar kleinah winkel hebbah. Tachtig. In grote winkel kost honderdvijftig.”
Ik ben zo stupefait dat ik vergeet af te dingen.
“Tafelkleed?”
“Is-a 300 RMB”
-”No, 100.”
-”300 RMB!”
-”No, 100. I know the price.”
-”OK — 100 and-a 50″
-”No, 100.”
-”No, 100 and-a 50. This a special taxi.”
-”No, 100.”
-”100 and-a 50!”
-”100.”
-”Bu xie da fao xi jie $%@ !!”
-”Tian’anmen, here, Mei Shi Jie [pointing at map].”
-”どこに行く必要はありません?”
-”Yes, here.
-”左または右にここに？”
-”Ja, wat jij wil.”
-”またはストレートスルー?”
-”Jongen, ik vind het allang prima, doe maar wat jij wil.”
Beijing taxi drivers seem to be unsure if pointing at the map really means yes, I want to go there. They also don’t seem to understand that rambling on in Chinese doesn’t help since I have absolutely no idea what they’re on about. They also don’t seem to know that the sounding the horn is not an adequate substitute for hitting the brakes.
We were supposed to take the train to Xi’an this evening (soft sleeper – four beds per compartment), but it was fully booked for the next week (!) so we had to fly there this morning. We escaped the hammering heat of Beijing (35C during the day, 25C at night with suffocating humidity) — Xi’an was experiencing a torrential downpour. The temperature was an agreeable 26C, so we didn’t really mind the rain. Also, people are really nice. We got someone from Singapore to help us buy traintickets. 16 hours to Chengdu for Y113 (E12,50)!
I somehow forgot to mention the photos of my trip to Israel, the West Bank and Petra are now online (and have been for quite some time). If you haven’t seen them yet, check them out now!
It’s been a month now since I came back from New York. Things have been rather quiet; I’ve been working a lot since New York left me broke. I also worked a bit on a new design for the website and on post-processing the photo’s I made in the US. I am pleased to say that both are now finished, I’m switching the design and uploading the photo’s tonight. I hope everybody likes it all!
On a sidenote, this site is best viewed with Firefox or any other modern browser. It’s using K2 on WordPress 3.0 and the gallery is now served by NextGENGallery which offers much better integration with WordPress.
The other night I stumbled upon a guy in a wheelchair. Or really, I didn’t stumble upon him as much as he called me out. If I could give him a push. Sure I can give him a push. Who’s gonna refuse a handicapped person a push? Ensuring me that he didn’t want money, he told me to ‘park’ him somewhere. Only to spontaneously give me a rather poor Sean Connery impression. The whole situation was just too funny, and having had a few too many drinks I had to laugh. After his stand up (well, not really…) comedy was done, he told me to give him ten bucks and wheel him home – which was the opposite direction from where he told me to push him first. But who can say no to poor, handicapped person? I wheeled him home (having had a few too many drinks, I can’t remember if I actually gave him the 10 bucks as well). Good karma.
This night, walking home again, I again came across the very same wheel chaired man. “Hey man –” -”Hey, it’s you again –” -”Can you give me push?” -”Sorry, not tonight, I’m in a hurry,” I said, walking past him, crossing the street. -”Hey man, ya can’t do tha, ya can’t do tha!!” -”Hey, I gave you a push yesterday, today I’m in a hurry, OK –” -”But I want a BEER NOW!!!”, he shouted after me in an angry voice. I hurried along, again disappointed at humanity — though I really shouldn’t have been surprised. Karma?
Published on
May 10, 2010 in
Logbook.
Drie weken nog. 21 dagen, 504 uur, 30240 minuten, 1.814.400 seconden, oneindig veel Plancktijden. Het lijkt kort, maar het is lang. Of andersom. Drie weken is de tijd dat ik in Ethiopië zat, en in Zwitserland in de zomer van 2005. Drie weken gelden had ik end of year borrels bij docenten thuis, en over drie weken ben ik weer thuis, zie ik mezelf over het zesbaans zoab zoeven. Het is gek hoe je aan alles gehecht raakt: de gaten in het bolle wegdek, de lompe, inefficiënte, milieuonvriendelijke gele taxi’s, de slechte koffie van de deli op de hoek, ja, zelfs aan de dakloze bedelaar die je ‘s nachts in het Frans aanspreekt en aan de intense smerigheid van 14th street station. Drie weken nog, en dan zijn al die dingen opeens heel ver weg. Vroeger eindigde de heimwee bij het begin van de terugreis, nu is de heimwee totaal afwezig. Het lijkt gisteren dat ik in Amsterdam was, maar het was toch echt vorig jaar. Misschien ben ik in m’n hoofd al aan de terugreis begonnen.
