How I met my wife - Episode 4

Huangshan (Yellow Mountain)

The bus ride from Hangzhou to Huangshan or Yellow Mountain took most of the day even though it wasn’t more than 350 kilometres. It was crowded, the seats narrow, the ride was rough and I don’t think we ever exceeded 50 km/hr. Nevertheless, the long ride provided lots of opportunity for conversation which, I remember nothing about except that Nicola felt sorry for Aaron alone with all the ladies on the other bus.
Somewhere along the route, I realize that I’d forgotten my dad’s camera in the taxi we’d taken from the hotel to the bus station. I reported the loss to the hotel receptionist at the hotel in Huangshan and the clerk told me to return the next morning in case it came up on one of the later busses. I never expected to see it again.
 

Aaron and Nicola

Aaron, Nicola and I shared a cabin which consisted of an open room, bathroom with shower and a bunch of single bunk beds. Huangshan is known for its hot springs and we did debate going for a swim however, being a lifeguard and knowing a little too much about water born infections, I was hesitant. Then Nicola provided her critique of the sanitary conditions at the university pool and the decision was made. For purpose of swimming, we would stick the imperialist facilities available to us at the International Club and the Western hotels. So, instead, we wandered the grounds and basically got a little more comfortable with each other. The weather was cold and wet and didn't portend well for our climb the next day. We did have a choice, take a bus to a guest house about two-thirds of the way up or walk. All three of us decided to walk. The ladies would take the bus.

Early the next morning, I checked at the front desk for my camera. And, it was there! I
couldn’t believe it. The taxi driver had reported it missing and somehow, authorities had connected it to me and sent it up on the bus the previous night. I was pretty darn happy. In all out travels since, we have only experienced the like one other time Cuba. Coincidence? On a walking tour through one of the upscale neighbourhoods, Nicola had her camera snatched which she was swinging from the strap.

Jordan, our eldest daughter, immediately gave after a guy of dark skin, considerably bigger and faster and not wearing flip flops. Her screams of “asshole” and “fucker, give it back” were to rouse residents from their houses to investigate. They told us to report the theft to the police. We couldn’t be bothered. The next day, we drove a few hours down the coast to the mountain town of Vinales. A couple of days later while we’re eating breakfast under an arbour of bushes and flowers in a guesthouse, the hostess interrupts to ask if one of us had our camera stolen. Nicola said she had. “Is it red?” Of course it was. Not only was the camera saved but the memory card with all its photos. 

Celestial Peak.

Back to China…after returning the camera, the receptionist warned us that we should get off the mountain by noon because of a threat of thunderstorms. The steps followed steep inclines for long distances forcing a slow pace. About 10:30 we arrived at a guesthouse where Aaron decided to stop. He’d met a Chinese girl the previous evening with whom he became friendly. She was going to stay overnight and he decided to as well. A lightning storm didn’t seem imminent so Nicola and I decided to continue on.
 Accessing the Celestial Capital Peak requires traversing a narrow ridge with steep drops on both sides. We had no idea. We could have just easily been in heavy fog on the Scottish coast as the top of a mountain. All the Chinese stopped to take pictures but Nicola and I couldn’t be bothered. We continued on the path to we weren’t sure where. About mid-afternoon, we arrived at a weather station with an attached restaurant. We sat down at a 

Nicola climbing steps

table with a bunch of older men and ordered tea. The room was hot and humid, crowded and smoky and everyone was coughing. An English speaker at our table explained that it was traditional Chinese cooking smells. He, of course, was referring to their liberal use of chili peppers.
As the day wore on, I became more and more impressed by Nicola’s perseverance. Never did she complain or suggest we turn back. The climb had been exhausting and completely without views as a reward. We really weren’t sure where we were or where we were going. Our only guide was a map with only Chinese writing that, despite our three weeks in the country, we could not understand. Persevering through unfamiliar circumstances unsure of the outcome was a normal state of affairs for me however few have a similar tolerance.

After we left the weather station, we traversed along a ledge cut into the mountain until we reached a ridge. We were becoming a little unnerved by the fact that we didn’t see anyone else after the weather station except a Japanese couple walking in the opposite direction. We had been warned about lightening. Finally, at about 5:30 we arrived at a guesthouse where we met

Cool Rocks

up with the ladies. They were very happy to see Nicola and showed her to the special guest room.
I got the upper bunk in a room filled with identical sleeping with identical sleeping accommodations, all occupied by a Chinese male. Too many wanted to practice their English. I got the usual “What’s your name?” “Where are you from?” “What do you do for a
living?” “What do you think of China?” All required short monosyllabic responses. I did have one interrogator who asked me whether I believed in God. “I don’t know,” I replied which was the truth. I didn’t. Still don’t. “Do you?” I asked to which he laughed and they with him when he translated. “We’re communists,” he said. “Communists don’t believe in God.” He made me feel like an idiot. Finally I put on my headphones and they got the hint. 

If the walk up had been arduous and without a view of any kind, the walk down followed

More cool rocks

a road and the views were spectacular. Unusual rock formations were unlike any I’d ever seen in the Rockies. They had names like “Monkey Watching the Sea” or “The Stone that Flew out of Nowhere” or “Snail Coming Out of It Shell” with bonsai like trees clinging off cliff edges nearby. I realized the Chinese paintings I’d seen weren’t just impressionist versions of reality. They were reflecting it.

I was impressed by the number of porters transporting supplies to the guesthouse at the
top. They slung loads from each end of a long pole that they would balance on the back of their shoulders. Why these men were even being used to move goods up a mountain while trucks would pass them on the same road they were talking was mystery to me.

For the bus ride back to Hangzhou, we were blessed with blue skies and searing heat. Nicola entertained me by retelling “The Chosen,” a novel by Chaim Potok. I had no idea she was so interested in Jewish culture. I saw my first water buffalo on that bus ride. They were being used to plough the rice fields. As we descended to lower altitudes, we witnessed the different stages of rice production. As we approached sea level, our bus

Porters

often had to detour around grain spread on the road to dry in the hot sun.

We arrived in Shanghai too late for dinner at the university so I invited Nicola out to eat at the Peace Hotel. Located on Bund along the Huangpu River, it was the most luxurious in Shanghai at the time. Dances were held in the ballroom that featured Big Band music from the 1940s and 50s. Having been part of the ballroom dancing club at university, I was able to lead Nicola around the dance floor with at least a modicum of grace. She let me pay that night so I guess that would have been our first date even though it didn’t lead to any romantic advances. I didn’t care. I was living the moment.

How I met my wife - Episode 3

Shanghai – July, 1984

Our Education in China classes began at 8:00 every morning which was nice because it meant we had the entire afternoon to ourselves.  Sometimes, I’d even get up in time for breakfast.  Classrooms were located on the first floor of our residence.  The rooms were small, able to handle maybe 30 students in a pinch.  We sat on benches with small tables, the width of a book, in front of us.  The professors who were always men, knew little or no English.  They would sit at a desk as they lectured while Mr. Ye or Charles translated. 

Church, Tsingtao, 1984

The women preferred Charles who was young and good looking.  He would add his own editorials to pronouncements made by the lecturer.  One lecture concerned the prohibition of atheists in churches that had just been opened.  The reason for the prohibition was that the state didn’t want atheists being unduly pressured away from their non-belief which led to questions by the students wondering about the sudden popularity of the church.  Charles replied that the people had previously put their faith in communism.  It was their religion.  Now, that the government was opening certain regions to capitalism, the righteousness of Marxist doctrine was being questioned  Capitalism wasn’t a faith and so the people sought something to fill the vacuum. 

A non-secular system of education has existed in China longer than any other country in the world so there was lots to relate in our “Education in China” course.  National schools go back to 1500 B.C. in the Zhou Dynasty and have continued to the present.  Confucius made education particularly important with the introduction of the the first professional bureaucracy with an entrance exam.  Our lectures might have been more engaging if we weren’t sitting in a muggy, airless, classroom with a temperature that exceeded 30-degree centigrade.  As it was, we could barely stay awake.  Fortunately, we were able to convince our instructor to move our lectures to the air conditioned staffroom on the third and top floor of the residence.  There, we would sit around a large table and enjoy a far more relaxed learning environment. 

Occasionally, we would engage in unrelated discussions like the one introduced by Aaron.  He was a thinker who would share his theories about the Chinese and communism with me in our room at night.  On this one particular day, that, from he could observe, the Chinese don’t value life as much as we in the West.  Our Chinese hosts had little to say on the subject.  Perhaps because they were offended or they knew very little about life in the West and did not feel qualified to comment.  However, Honore, our supervising professor from the University of British Columbia, was outraged.  He accused Aaron of ignorance and cultural insensitivity. 

Honore standing, Brian seated

Honore had previously lived in Japan for a number of years.  Being tall and good-looking and had even acted in number of commercials.  He met and married a Japanese woman and together, they’d had a daughter.  The girl had been the subject for a paper he wrote on the benefits of learning two or more languages as a child.  When he told us that some of his data was based on a composite of observations made on other children, the ladies weren’t impressed.  Upon first meeting Honore, they had been very impressed.  However, this was not the first time they’d been unimpressed with the man. 

Having a bike and maybe having a little more in common with them than the rest of the group, I hung out with them quite a bit.  On a trip downtown on our bikes one day, Honore asked if I’d be interested in going to Huangshan, or Yellow Mountain as it’s known in English.  He told me that it was gorgeous and that we could easily see it on the weekend of July 20^th because we would get the Monday off.  Always game for an adventure, I said, sure.  Then Peggy from our group got wind of our adventure and thought the rest of the group should join us.  She even had postcards as proof of its beauty.  Most of the other students agreed and so, it was planned.  However, once the women had decided to join us, Honore bowed out.  The ladies were not impressed. 

On Friday, July 20^th, we took a train from Shanghai to the city of Hangzhou where we stayed overnight before boarding a bus for Huangshan.  Hangzhou is located on the picturesque on West Lake made even more beautiful by the outlines of the many temples that border its shores.  The Grand Canal begins here and ends in Beijing and was a route travelled by Marco Polo.  We’d visited these sites two weekends before.  Saturday night of that weekend, Nicola and I were the only ones to go for a swim in the hotel pool.  For some reason, Nicola challenged me to a swim race.  Really? I said.  Why not? she replied.  Cause we’re adults, I thought but didn’t say.  Outside of a swim meet, I hadn’t “raced” since elementary school.  Nevertheless, I agreed and was surprised how hard she swam and how hard I had to swim to keep up.  Did she really care about winning? I wondered. 

West Lake, Hanzhou

Because we’d already been to Hangzhou and Kim, our Chinese speaker was with, we were able to arrange accommodation in the city that night.  I’m embarrassed to say that we all took a rickshaw to dinner that night.  Honore would have been horrified.  We probably payed our runners two or three times the going rate but I felt like a pre-Mao white imperialist.  I couldn’t even feel like an ironic hipster because their existence was still a few decades in the future. 

The bus station was packed the next morning.  Long lines stretched behind every ticket window.  There’s no way we’re going to get Huangshan today, I thought.  Fortunately, queuing in ordered lines was not a strong cultural more practiced by mainland Chinese people at the time.  Jostling for position was common and even when you got to the ticket counter, the Chinese would still try to shove their money around or over you.  Often, the clerk would take their money and serve them ahead of you because you, not knowing Chinese, was just a headache to deal with.  The best technique for dealing with this barrage or appendages was to push yourself against the ticket counter and blinding swing your elbows behind you.  No one ever complained because it was all part of the communist, bureaucratic game. 

April, white haired and easily the eldest of our group, had attended the Chinese language course for six weeks prior to the one we were attending.  Perhaps because the Chinese respect the elderly or perhaps because she was white or they simply were taken aback by her shear audacity, April was able to push herself to the front of the line to purchase tickets for all eight of us.  To our surprise, people had already started boarding the busses for Huangshan.  Unfortunately, we were one seat short of all being able to get on the same bus so I volunteered to go alone on another that was leaving at the same time.  After all, I had my Walkman and a book.  I had only just found an empty seat at the front of the bus when Nicola climbed on to sit next to me.