At the Foot of the Mountain

At the Foot of the Mountain
Well, I got off campus and had a good time for the first time in a long time. I made it on the bike to some mountains that are about 15 km away, so there and back I had a good 30 km of biking in about 2 hours (half of it up hill and the other half back into the wind) and spent about an hour in between chit-chatting with locals. I didn't have a plan to go there, but when I got off campus I was able to see the mountains, so I resolved that this time I'd make a real effort to get there. Usually the sky is so polluted-dusty that I can't even see them when I head north, so out of sight is out of mind. But this time I could more or less make them out through the particulate matter, so I headed in their direction through the fields and villages determined to make it.

Not knowing the way, I took a rather circuitous route and first covered some territory familiar from past attempts to get there. In a rather small village, I passed a Christian church, a Protestant one from the translation in Chinese (基督教堂), and I parked my bike and started into the courtyard to have a closer look and maybe talk to someone, but the only greeting I got was from a very big and unfriendly dog, so I quickly decided not to find out if or how well it was chained up. I had always figured that Christianity in China was probaby more attractive to Western-oriented city folk, but I have been told that this is not so and on trips through the countryside I've been greeted by spires and crosses, so indeed Christianity has made its way to the villages.

As I got closer to the mountains, I saw signs for an old king's tomb called 潞王陵 and a spring called the 愚公泉, both of which I had heard of before, but I headed past them for the place called the 凤凰森林, the Phoenix Forest. That's what a Minnesotan, even a transplanted one, needs most—trees.

When I got there, I found the mountain was pretty bare as most of the countryside around here is too due to its being so arid after many years of drought, but I really didn't get a chance to explore it much as far as hiking up into it is concerned. It's probably only about 600 or 700 meters high but looks like more than that because it rises up steeply from the surrounding countryside. The part that I saw was especially unimpressive because about half of it had been blasted away for limestone and gravel over the decades. There is seemed to be something around the other side with some trails and recently planted "forest." I was told that maybe about 20 years ago the quarry activity was stopped due to the dust and pollution it kicked up. However, on the way I passed a cement factory and two huge power plants with a total of 7 or 8 cooling towers and maybe a dozen huge smoke stacks putting out who knows what. However, even that is supposed an improvement over past years. One must be thankful for small favors. Half a mountain is better than none. Anyway, now I have a place to go back to and I know how to get there more directly, so I can wander more next time. It's certainly better than anything I have encountered to date in my 8 months here of wandering the area on my bike.

There's a temple at what was probably the original foot of the mountain, but now there's about 300 meters between the temple and the sheer cliff that used to be the middle of the mountain. The temple was the usual mix of old and new. I didn't get a chance to talk to anyone there because I was just checking the place out for future trips, but maybe it was late Qing judging from the architecture and the glaze on the roof. Some workers were still putting finishing touches on the patio surrounding a new glass enclosed Buddha of white stone. One sees this kind of thing everywhere. From the point of view of the Buddhists it's certainly a good indication of renewed interest in faith, but from the point of view of preservationists—if there are any—it has to be a nightmare.

The huge open square of flat limestone where the mountain base used to be slopes off from the temple to a greenish pool where the rain water collects at the opposite end. As I was riding across it, I overheard a group of 20-something guys say laowai 'foreigner' (the not terrible but not complementary version), so I turned around and laughed and asked if I was the first they had ever seen. They laughed back and said they'd seen one now—just a retort, I'm sure—but, they said, I was certainly the first one they'd seen up there on a junky old bike. After I parked my bicycle I popped up the stairs to quickly check out the temple and on my way down there was guy in a blue jacket in the middle of the square waving to me to come over. Well, why not.

In the middle of the flat area there was a little awning where a 40ish couple with their son was selling drinks and snacks. There were "tea eggs" and I asked how much it cost for one and the rather stone faced woman said one and a half yuan. I said half seriously that she was overcharging me because I was a rich foreigner. In fact, I think she was. Well, before that conversation could go further, the guy in the blue coat came over and was obviously very interested in having a chat.

He had all the usual questions, but I did my best to get a few in too. But first out came the customary cigarettes. I had promised myself that I was not going to smoke these polite cigarettes anymore and at first refused—as one would have to do anyway. But these are made from local Henan tobacco. Very mild. Try one. Let's have a smoke together. We're friends now. Ok, ok.

He was wearing a Fresh Tech Corporation blue jacket, like the ones seen all over Xinxiang because altogether some 15,000 are employed in—if I remember correctly—20 some separate Fresh Tech facilities in and around Xinxiang. In fact, he himself didn't work there, but his son has been there for some 15 years or so now. The son made 1500 yuan per month (about $200 USD), which is not bad, and he told me that the long time employees can make up to 2500 or 3000, which is really quite good for workers by Chinese standards anywhere. He said there was insurance too but only for the full-time employees. Temporary or part-time workers don't get this benefit and he took a moment to complain about the poor level of health care across China. I corrected his impression that health care was not a problem in the US. What workers wanted, he said, was steady jobs and Fresh Tech is able able to supply them. There was some concern because now the owners of Fresh Tech are from Singapore, but so far there there seemed to be no reason to worry about the all-important issue of job stability.

Talk always turns to the US and its power and wealth. Life is good in America, right? The US has aircraft carriers and directs its interests and violence outside, so inside life is good. Not an inaccurate analysis. I mentioned having been in Viet Nam recently and he talked about the Spratley islands, which China claims to own though they are much closer to Viet Nam, but he said since it doesn't have aircraft carriers like the US the Vietnamese are in a position to benefit from those (as yet unrealized) resources. They were also asking about Las Vegas and other such places.

By now we were on our second cigarette and I had coughed up the price of a tea egg. The couple's boy was in 6th grade and had been studying English since 3rd grade but couldn't overcome his shyness to say anything. His mother came close to being more friendly when I encouraged him to speak and get some practice with a real live foreigner. Or maybe because I finally bought a tea egg at her price.

I found out that my enthusiastic friend's name was Mr. Zhou and his thing was his green bean noodle stall, which was in fact a small tralier hitched onto his motorcycle parked next to the awing. The two had been doing business side by side there for abut 5 years. Altogether he has been doing the noodle thing for 17 years here and there and lived in a village not so far from the mountain. When he got me over to his side, he had me sit down on one of his stools and write my Chinese name in Chinese and tested me to see if I could read his name and address from the Chinese that he wrote. I passed his test, much to his delight and amusement. He asked me to try his cold noodles, which were mixed with a watery hot sauce. I was a bit nervous but not in a position to refuse. After all, I had smoked his cigarettes. I reassured myself by looking at the clean chopsticks and two plastic jugs of water by his stall that looked pretty clear, so I let into the noodles and hoped for the best. While I was there he'd call to passers-by to come to have a chat with the US professor. He couldn't believe that I was nearly 60 years old after he saw me scamper up the hill to the temple after riding 15 km from town. He himself was 49 but I would have guessed him to be older. He had a grandchild on the way, or at least he hoped so.

He found out that I had a son, a daughter and grandson, so my life is good (幸福) and I couldn't disagree with him, especially on this fine day without a big stack of papers waiting for me on my desk back in Xinxiang. It was the first weekend in about 6 weeks which I didn't spend mostly on paper correction. Yes, life is good when you don't have to work all the time.

While we were having our chat, a fellow in his mid 30s, who was a junior high school teacher in one of the local villages stopped by with his son, who was about ten, to have some noodles. He had gotten a teacher training certificate in Xinxiang and went back to the village he was born in to teach. He seemed to be pretty content with his job and agreed that life in the village was pretty comfortable in the sense that you could grow some vegetables and raise some chickens or whatever and live pretty much on the cheap. They came on pretty nice motorcycle, so he must be doing ok. While we were having this discussion, Mr. Zhou noted that I had rode up on my rickety second hand bicycle and was impressed by my apparently simple (朴素) life style, which he said was best. We all agreed, though this hardly seems to be the direction in which most of China is headed.

Two students, boyfriend and girlfriend English majors from a technical school in Xinxiang, also stopped by to chat. We spoke in English and their English was quite good. They have a foreign teacher in their school too and wondered if I knew him. I don't know anyone or anything except my students' papers. It was interesting that Mr. Zhou insisted that we speak English as he sat there watching in amazement. They had many questions--Do you like Chinese food, Can you use chopsticks? (I'm thinking of making a handout with these questions and answers on them to save time in future encounters.) We talked about about my past travels and their dreams to travel too. They said that they hoped to travel on jobs teaching Chinese just as I have been able to by teaching English. They suggested that I could make a living in the US by teaching Chinese, but I told them that every job in the US having anything to do with China these days was pretty much sewn up by upper class mainland Chinese who had gone there for grad school and stayed. Well, I didn't say it in such a discouraging way actually, but I have met so many young people here like them who want to see the world this way, and I know that for students who are probably from working class or lower middle class families without connections it's virtually an impossiblity. What they have been told and have heard about the great interest in China around the world is pretty much restricted to business. Upper class jobs will be grabbed by upper class people. Working your way around the world teaching English is a lot different from trying to do it with Chinese. Good luck, my young friends! The young guy was carrying a Chinese flute (笛子) with him and played me a few tunes. He was quite good.

In fact, it was getting pretty late and I tried several times to get back on the road because I was nervous about getting lost on the way back as I was pretty far off my usual beaten path, not to mention that the back tire of my bike was a bit low on air. However, Mr. Zhou had no intention of letting me go until I finally insisted strongly the third or fourth time.

When I did get up, I tried to give him 3 yuan for the noodles because that's what the other fellow paid, but he would not accept it. In typical fashion I just put the money down on the table and started to walk away, but in typical fashion, he picked it up, came after me and stuffed it into my pocket. We're friends. No charge for the noodles! But you work here all day and how can you make a living, and besides I smoked your cigarettes. Of course, you did. I'm Chinese. That's what we do! The two students were on his side, of course, so I had to relent.

I left there hoping not to get a bad case of Confucius' revenge or at least get back before it struck, but I was happy to get into a good time with some real people. It kind of renewed my faith in things here and I badly needed it. My biggest problem all along has been not getting out enough to meet such folks and being stuck on campus, even though I do not regret being dedicated to my students. Whenever I meet real people anywhere I'm renewed, and whenever I have to deal with university administrators and important professors and other such grasping low life, I get depressed. That's not really so hard to understand now, is it?