Zhan Yuan and Murphy's Law

I've been feeling homesick. Nothing serious. I suppose it's inevitable on a trip of this length. I miss by husband, my kids, my friends, and my cat. I miss the university Cherokee Church and the mountains. I miss not having to struggle to communicate, being able to read the billboards, and the assurance that food will not be slimy or oddly flavored. I even miss Kroger's.

I decided I ought to stop moping, perhaps get out more. Enjoy China. Do something touristy. My hotel advertizes day trips. Why not do one? Turns out the day trips are very informal. A college kid, who goes by the English name Tim works part time at the hotel and wants to practice his English. He takes foreigners around Nanjing on days he has time. Fine! I arranged to go with him today-- Wedneday. He suggested a trip to the emperor's gardens: Zhan Yuan. He brings his girlfriend. He is dubious when I insist on riding a Chinese bus. Wouldn't I prefer a taxi? Of course not. I want to experience Chinese life. (Besides, I'm frugal) The vehicle is crowded and sweltering, like the New York subway at rush hour before the advent of air conditioning.

At the Zhan Yuan gardens, personnel determine I require a personal English-speaking tour guide. I acquiesce. It's only 40 remimbi-- less than ten bucks. The tour guide rattles off her schpiel about these gardens beginning in the Ming dynasty 600 years ago. The gardens are really pretty, but I'd rather contemplate and daydream than listen to a historical lecture. It's really hot. As we trudge around, Tim and his girlfriend hold my backpack. It's a hot day, and under my pink hat, sweat pours down my face. I'm getting dizzy. It's not just the heat. The lunch we ordered today and ate as a group had more meat than usual, some of it rare. My stomach is a bit upset.

The guide takes me into a cool building, where musicians perform on traditional Chinese instruments and we are served tea. Tim and his girlfriend can't come-- the show and the tea are just for the people who took the personal tour. The tea is excellent. I need it. My stomach is starting to cramp. I inquire as to the location of the ladies' room and I'm shown to one which has Chinese toilets. I can't cope with these and leave the restroom. I'm dizzy, tired, and my stomach hurts. It's time to go home, I decide. I look about for Tim and his girlfriend, who are nowhere to be found. Together, the guide and I search for Tim and the girlfriend. When we are unsuccessful, she seats me on a bench and keeps looking. Time passes, and I become worried. Have these lovely young people made off with my backpack? My camera is around my neck, but everything else of value is in the backpack-- money, AAA money card, an address book with directions to the hotel, even my passport! What will I do if I'm stranded, with no money, no passport.

At last the guide returns with Tim and the girlfriend, who believing me occupied with music and tea, had taken a walk. I breathe a sigh of relief. But my stomach still hurts. There is no choice. I remember Murphy's law: If something can go wrong, it will and at the worst possible moment. I attempt the Chinese toilet. I will spare you the details. Let's just say I am not very good at it. Apologetic, I tell the guide some cleaning needs to be done. She smiles, and assures me "staff will handle." I feel sorry for them.

On the way home, Tim and I talk politics. He believes his country is becoming more developed, more democratic. He is hopeful for the future, he says. He says he likes to read news with different viewpoints. I tell him how to access NPR and BBC online. When we return to the hotel, he accepts no money for the tour beyond my share-- one third-- of the cost of a taxi. He says he would like to talk with me more. My stomach is slightly better. I'll have to be more careful about what I eat.

I still miss home, but it's been a successful day.

Note: because this post is long, I can't put in pictures. I will post them under separate heading.