Last Push in China

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Today we're taking the local train into downtown Dalian. While there's plenty of shopping here in Kaifaqu, it's geared more toward clothes-and plenty of them-than to gifts.

We should have tried the train before. It's easy and cheap and deposits us right at our destination, the Korean market. Bernie points out that we will be in Korea tomorrow and will have time for plenty of shopping there. Maybe, but I've been in China for over a month and haven't come up with all the gifts I want to give from China.

This market is like huge flea market. The building is the size of a large warehouse. There are five floors, all crammed with merchandise. The first three floors are clothing, but the fourth floor has an amazing array of decorative goods. It's dizzying.

Though I could spend an entire day here and not see everything, I move on. Shannon has told us of another great market a short taxi ride away where fabric and sewing supplies are sold. I want to get some fabric for Barb.

It's another huge warehouse, but here, you can stroll the aisles, select the fabric you want and the tailors will make your clothing, custom-fitted, for very little money. I wish I'd discovered this earlier, though maybe I don't. Even with the new suitcase we don't have enough space to take all I'd want.

I finally decide on one beautiful red fabric with Chinese designs and a back that's as pretty as the front, and a sunshiney yellow with dragons woven into the pattern.

We're hungry, thirsty and tired, so we take a taxi back to the train station, and line up to buy our tickets.

To say that the Chinese do not line up in an orderly fashion is like saying there's a speck of dust or two in the Beijing air. But I must say this group is doing well. There are four distinct lines for the four ticket windows. The lines are moving quickly, too.

When it's our turn, though, Bernie is getting money from his wallet to pay and there are at least ten people behind us when suddenly a woman appears beside me, outside the barrier, and begins shoving money at the ticket agent. I am pleased when the woman behind the glass ignores her and holds out her hand for money from the man behind us.

This is China. Pushing, shoving, and ignoring the rules are par for the course. We've come to expect it. But sometimes, as with this woman, we're still blown away.

We try to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was about to miss her train. But it's worth noting that she said nothing, made no explanation (which, even though we couldn't understand it, we would have recognized for what it was). She just silently cut to the front of the line.

On the platform we wait for five minutes or so for our train. Soon there's a crowd of people waiting with us. We're standing two or three feet from where the doors will open when the train arrives.

We hear the train and just at that moment, a young woman whips runs over whips around me and gets in front of me.

Then and there I make a decision.

We know how this works. Once the doors open, people push and shove their way into the cars grabbing seats. Most of the pushers are young people, capable of the ruthless elbowing and shoving required to get in first.

But today, I'm going to give them a run for their money. Bernie's hip is hurting. Though the sign posted above the bench seats clearly states, as it does in most subways throughout the world, that the seats there are for the elderly, the disabled and pregnant women, six teenagers will pounce on the seats and never make eye contact with you unless it is to stare.

As the train pulls into the station and the crowd around me tenses with anticipation for the struggle, I wedge myself in among them. Since this is happening at all the other doors, the competition is keen.

When the door opens, I push forward. I have to; I'm part of the surge. But I put effort into it. I can feel the shoulder blades, hips and ribs of the people I'm packed in with. I keep pushing.

Once inside, they run to the seats. Me, too. I claim one beside the girl who jumped in front of me.

This is not a pretty sight. I'm not proud of my behavior. But I'm beginning to see how civil society breaks down in the face of a constant "me first" mentality.

And now Bernie has a seat.

On this train I also encounter one of the politest men in all China. After several stops, he stands up and says "Please, take a seat." I usually decline these offers; I don't mind standing and only get tired when I have to hold onto the strap hanger way above my head for a long time. But this time, I accept. He's so gracious. It would be rude not to.

"Xie, Xie." I say.

At the apartment we suggest having Eddie's pizza for dinner. Shannon and Damon have never tried the taco pizza. When Shannon orders, Eddie asks about us. He says goodbye and wishes us a safe trip. I'm not sure what that says about our relationship with Eddie and his pizza. But it's nice.

Packing doesn't take long.

Next stop: Korea.

A note about photos: we've had a little camera/uploading problem, so we're delayed in getting them on our posts. We're working on it and will get them up as soon as possible.