Just when I’m ready to pack my bags

My feet were sopping wet, I had spent the last forty-five minutes packed into a roasting train station waiting room, people had been and were staring, nearby gawkers had had their fair share of conversations about me, I had multiple bags and a hanging plant I was trying to juggle, and I was tired.  I was tired from the day and at the moment I was tired of China.  It was one of those times when an imminent return to the States sounded just glorious, and were someone to wave a ticket in front of my face, I would snatch it out of their hands.

I had spent the day in the nearby “big city” with a couple teammates.  There were several reasons that coaxed me out on a particularly rainy and dreary day.  First, I got to visit the again (pictures to come later).  I couldn’t pass up a chance to see my Chinese “nephews.”  Secondly, Jennifer and I were meeting up with two families who just were united with their daughters (from the orphanage in our city).  Lastly, and not nearly as importantly, the trip offered me a chance to stock up on cheese and butter.  All of these destinations certainly made the trip worthwhile, but the moments in between getting us to said destinations were somewhat dreadful.  The weather, with a steady rain, was miserable.  That, coupled with the fact that you walk a lot in China, was enough to make the day unpleasant.  Add to that sparse taxis and torn up roads, and we have a good reminder why sometimes the cheese isn’t worth a trip to the big city.

Anyways, by the end of the day, we were more than ready to get on a train and go home.  A last minute stop at Walmart meant that on top of our heavy cheese/butter/pizza sauce/pasta food bags, we had shelves for Lucy’s new room, other decor, and a hanging plant Jennifer thought she couldn’t live without.  We dragged all of our loot into the station, put all the loot through the x-ray machine (all the time being pushed and shoved by people eager to get their bags that have yet to come through), re-gathered all the loot, and headed to the waiting room.  We were drenched from the rain, and soon drenched with sweat.  Although the train wasn’t leaving for forty five minutes, people were already packed in a line with standing room only.  After enduring the wait, heat, stares, conversations about us, and tired feet we were understandably thrilled when the line started to move and the promise of a seat on the train imminently awaited us.

At this point, the experience can only be likened to cattle being loaded on a cattle car.  Those behind just push and shove, and a line about six people across has to be squeezed through a narrow hole that only one person can fit through.  So Jennifer and I, bags hanging from all limbs, were just trying to stay upright when a gang of old ladies came violently shoving past us.  This is the moment I would have taken that ticket to the States.  The whole situation had gotten to that point of ridiculousness where all we could do was bust out laughing.  Our laughter caught the attention of the pushy ladies and they took real notice of us for the first time.  I can only imagine their thoughts as they gazed at two sweaty foreigners, bags (and plants) hanging haphazardly, trying not to be overrun by Chinese people.  They must have been moved by some sort of pity, because suddenly, one of the ladies reached over to grab one of the handles of Jennifer’s heaviest food bag to share the load.  The rest of the ladies became our personal pushing escort, bulldozing a path for us to go through.  By the time we got through the ticket check point, two of the ladies had taken complete control of the heavy food bag.  Given the Chinese aversion to cheese, we didn’t worry too much about the bag being stolen.  The ladies carried the bag for us to our car, and then disappeared into the crowds.  And I fell in love with China once again.