Last week, I began a new story, a mountain-climbing event that played a critical part in my transition to the expat mindset. This week, the saga continues. Hope you enjoy it.
This week, also, I am resuming my efforts to solicit your support through the Buy Me A Coffee website. Admittedly, this is an experiment but I am using the Botch and Fumble business model to get started.
I have been told that the Substack platform does not support the Buy Me A Coffee embedded buttons. (Not yet, anyway.) So, instead of their cute little blue coffee cup button, this URL should take you to my BMAC page:
Your contributions and your comments are genuinely welcomed.
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Chinese Road Trip, Part 2
As we commenced our climb, I was a little disappointed that a summer haze covered the area, making the distant horizon fuzzy and generally limiting our view. Sometimes the eye needs to focus on long distances and scenes other than city streets and buildings. Soon after starting our climb however, I was more intent on climbing than on vistas anyway. I saw no trolleys or ski lifts or paved roads for tour buses and private cars leading upwards. The top of Song Shan was reached by climbing steps - many, many steps. Innumerable zigzag flights of concrete steps set into the side of the mountain were the only way to get to the 1440 meter summit. The stair flights varied in steepness and in the number of steps of each flight. They appeared to have been made in different periods of time, or perhaps by different builders. Still, they were well maintained and their metal hand rails made the ascent safe enough. In the August afternoon heat and stillness, we four began the endless zigzag trek to the top of the mountain.
Setting out at a fairly brisk but sustainable pace, I did my best to keep up with my three student friends. After six months in China, I felt as if I was in pretty good shape. They had been six car-free months in which I walked everywhere and climbed steps daily to my classrooms and my apartment. Indeed, compared to when I arrived in February, I certainly was in much, much better condition. However, nothing in my new life had prepared me for climbing a mountain, even if it was made easy and safe by the concrete steps and hand rails built into the slopes. After a few dozen flights of steps, I was already slowing down significantly.
That day, I discovered that 1440 meters is considerably higher than it sounds. However, once you start, there was nothing to do but keep climbing. Like a marathon runner, you must simply keep going until you get to the top. Fortunately, we were often shaded by the trees growing on the mountainside so we were not in direct sunshine. Frequent breaks for bottled water helped too. Due to the lateness in the day, there were few other people climbing alongside us.
Talking with Jimmy as I toiled up the mountain, we decided to stay overnight at the top. Staying overnight meant that we wouldn’t have to walk down all these steps again today, plus we could look forward to seeing a mountaintop sunset and sunrise as bonuses. I had brought some emergency cash and, by now, I knew I would cheerfully pay for a couple of rooms rather than descend today. This decision to stay overnight meant that all I had to do was ration my energy sufficiently to get to the top of the mountain. By this point in the late afternoon, all I was thinking of was reaching the summit then finding a nice cold beer, a comfortable room, and a cool shower. “Just get to the top” became my mantra.
At last, we could see the summit ahead of us. After the prolonged effort of climbing hundreds of concrete steps, I knew that I was going to make it. I was tired and my legs were a little rubbery but I was still moving steadily. I was actually feeling proud of myself; I was climbing a mountain and maintaining a good pace. Then, almost at the top, my self-congratulations were interrupted. Perhaps my brisk pace wasn’t so brisk after all. Climbing at what I thought was still a reasonable tempo, I was nonetheless passed by a young woman who sped right by me and was soon out of sight. Like me, she was wearing a backpack but it didn’t seem to be slowing her down - unlike my own, which, by now, felt as if it were loaded with concrete blocks. I told myself that there was no shame in being passed by a girl. She must simply be in a bigger hurry than me. However, I admit to being a little dismayed for, in addition to her large backpack, the girl was wearing high heels. (Some Chinese girls wear high heels everywhere, even climbing hundreds of steps up a mountain.) Oh, and she was also carrying a small baby in her arms.
It didn’t matter. Like a tiring marathon runner, I no longer cared about getting to the top quickly; I just wanted to reach it. Victory wouldn’t be from turning in the fastest time; it would come from simply finishing.
Tired and sweaty but triumphant, we finally arrived at the top of Song Shan. After reaching the tree-covered summit, which was not a single, sharp peak but rather a large, rounded ridge with a few small buildings hidden among the trees, we began taking the obligatory celebratory photographs of each other and the view from the mountain top. Even from the very top, however, the view was still somewhat diminished due to the haze which had accompanied us the whole day. It had rained all the previous afternoon and today’s higher humidity and the photo-limiting haze were the consequences.
This haze may have prevented us from clearly seeing long distances from our mountain-top perspective but it could not diminish the sense of accomplishment or the camaraderie which had developed during the afternoon climb. Most of all, however, I was looking forward to a relaxing evening. My day’s work was done. Since we were not going back down the mountain until the next morning, I could just take it easy. Upon arriving at the top, I had immediately purchased two cool bottles of beer from a vendor in a small stand. I was eager to sit down and enjoy this modest victory libation with my climbing partners, then get a room and have a shower. After that, my ambitions extended no further than a leisurely dinner on top of Song Shan, followed by a very early bedtime. It was this vision which had kept me going during the last phase of the ascent.
But it was not to be. It seemed that our trip jinx had also accompanied us up the mountain and was ready now for more mischief. A fresh dilemma was not long in arising. Jimmy’s inquiries soon determined that, due to a remodeling project, there were no rooms or any other type of accommodations available on the top of the mountain currently. This explained why we had seen so few people during the afternoon climb. Others must have known that they had to get up and down Song Shan the same day. Stunned and dismayed at this news, we four quietly surveyed our situation. There were still a couple of hours of daylight left but I was far from enthusiastic about walking back down all those steps we had just climbed. My legs were still burning and shaky from the ascent. However, it appeared that we had no other options.
At that point, one of the vendors, upon seeing our predicament, offered us a room for the night in a small building used by workmen on the site. We walked the short distance to inspect it but, looking inside, it was pretty grim. The tiny room contained only four rickety single beds covered with sheets of indeterminate age and dubious cleanliness, and a naked light bulb dangling from the ceiling. Tattered screens on the uncurtained windows invited mosquitoes and flies inside. Dirty floors and penciled messages written on the plaster walls plus cigarette butts and abandoned playing cards strewn about the room showed this to be exactly how it was described to us: temporary housing for workmen. I didn’t see any bathroom facilities so I had to assume that they would be quite primitive as well. “Down the hall” might well mean “down the hill”. Furthermore, the leisurely dinner I had visualized would have to be whatever snacks we still carried in our backpacks plus what we could buy from the mountaintop vendors.
Still thinking glumly about the prospect of walking down those many hundreds of steps before we could find a place for dinner and rest, I felt a tremendous internal conflict. Exhaustion won out. Since the room’s condition stopped short of being an actual health hazard, I decided that I could accept it for one night. I could tell from the look on his face that Jimmy was reaching the same reluctant conclusion.
The two girls, however, felt no such indecision. Apparently, even petite, soft-spoken, traditional Chinese girls have their limits and, with this unwelcome surprise at the end of a hot, tiring afternoon climb to the top of a mountain, Jennifer and Suzy had clearly reached theirs. I didn’t need an interpreter for the ensuing conversation as they converged on poor Jimmy. Although they were speaking in simultaneous, rapid-fire Chinese, their message was obvious even to me: Absolutely not! What was he thinking? Was he crazy??? Under no conditions, they shrilly told Jimmy in stereo indignation, were they going to stay overnight in that room - and, furthermore, the matter was not subject to discussion. They went on to add a few more comments that I did not understand but I thought it best not to interrupt their conversation to ask Jimmy for a translation.
It is not quite accurate to call this a conversation because Jimmy made only a few tentative comments and those were quickly overwhelmed by another gust of female Chinese outrage. Like a sudden summer thunderstorm, the tirade was quickly growing in intensity, with Jennifer and Suzy standing closer and closer to Jimmy until the two tiny girls seemed to be towering over him. With his classmate and his girlfriend seemingly on the verge of physical violence, a chastened Jimmy wisely submitted. Standing up, Jimmy quickly announced his executive decision: As the trip leader, he had decided that we must get off the mountain and return to Dengfeng for the night. Let’s get started!
By now, it was well past 5:00 but we still had a couple of hours of the August daylight left. Shrugging and glad that my language limitations had largely saved me from the verbal onslaught, I resigned myself to the inevitable. Wearily, I stuffed the two large bottles of beer into my backpack, stood up, and prepared for the descent. The libations would have to wait until we were down from the mountain.
We started back down. I would like to say that I set out at a quick pace again but that would not be strictly true. After several hours of climbing a 1440-meter mountain in the August heat and humidity, it would be more accurate to say that, at best, I began the retreat at a gravity-assisted trudge. However, once underway, the girls were pacified. Good spirits and harmony were soon restored. Certainly, there was no danger if we simply descended carefully. Furthermore, getting lost would be impossible, even in the dark. Staying on the steps was all that was required.
STAY TUNED, TEL SUBSCRIBERS AND COFFEE-FUND CONTRIBUTORS. NEXT WEEK, THE ADVENTURE AND THE ALLITERATION CONTINUE.