Nanjing Huanying Ni!

Nanjing Huanying Ni! ("Nanjing Welcomes You!," a modified version of "Beijing Huanying Ni," the overly advertised & publicized slogan for this summer's Beijing Olympics. They even named the 5 cutesy mascots--fuwa in Chinese--Bei Bei, Jing Jing, Huan Huan, Ying Ying, and Ni Ni. Pretty creative, huh?) August 21 The many hours of sleepless transit had taken its toll and, fortunately, I was able to sleep late into the morning: 8:30 AM, which is later than I’ve slept in… probably years. But it wasn’t to late so as to set me back in terms of my sightseeing goals. I had until 5:30 PM to explore Shanghai before I needed to board the train for Nanjing. As I was down in the lobby seeking the advice of the friendly staff at Mingtown Hiker Hostel regarding the best way to get to the various places I had a mind to visit, I was thinking, “Hmm, it would be nice to have a travel buddy to see these sights with instead of just having to find my way and enjoy myself alone…” Coincidentally, Niels, a guy from Holland staying at the same Shanghai hostel, was thinking the same thing. We banded together and enjoyed the day much more for the company. After another stroll along the Bund, Niels and I entered the inner-city oasis of Yu Yuan, or Jade Garden, an exquisite traditional-style Chinese garden built by an imperial official during the Ming Dynasty in honor of his father. Surrounded by greenery, ponds, winding walkways, waterfalls, and—an essential for any Chinese garden—a fine collection of the indispensable scholars’ rock (basically, a large funky-shaped rock with lots of character that educated people in imperial China thought it important to learn to appreciate), Yu Yuan was a step outside the hustle and bustle of this huge city. The pollution level even seemed to lessen while inside. And it was a refreshing slice of pure Chinese-ness that often gets pushed aside in light of the city’s imperial past. The garden was like a maze in which we kept discovering new paths and courtyards, and once we found our way to the exit, both Niels and I were ready for some sort of refreshing beverage. I twisted his arm into checking out the traditional style teahouse nearby, where two lovely women performed a short tea ceremony before us and continued refilling our bottomless cups as Niels and I talked of travel and home. We were never able to finish a cup of tea—I tried an exquisite lychee flavored blend—before our hostesses would top off our cups, but decided it was time to move on and see some more of the city. My suggestion of the Shanghai Museum, which is currently hosting a calligraphy exhibit, wasn’t particularly of interest to Niels, so we settled for an excursion to the French Concession. While walking around what was supposed to be the French Concession, however, we were constantly asking each other and the locals, “Is this really the French Concession?” We were never really sure. The neighborhood looked a bit more French, peut etre, than the rest of the city in terms of architecture, and we caught many fleeting glimpses of what must have been the mansions of French merchants and officials. But now, as I’m sure was also the case during the colonial era, these mansions were gated and guarded. So, slightly disappointed, we walked back to the Metro stop by the enormous Renmin Guangchang (People’s Park) and, stopping for a replacement for Niels’ busted cellphone on the way, returned to the hostel. There, I gathered my things and readied myself to catch a taxi to the train station. The woman at the hostel’s information desk, however, assured me that the bus was just as convenient and a mere 2 Yuan versus 20. As I’m still uncomfortable about taking buses even in my Sweet Home Chicago, I was reluctant to try it in Shanghai. Feeling adventurous, though, I decided to take her advice and, to my pleasant surprise, it was pretty easy and trouble-free! The bus was also quicker than expected. So I decided it would be a good idea to grab some food before boarding the train for the 2 hour + ride to Nanjing. I stepped into a cafeteria-style establishment to see their selection and met a woman there with her young son who was unwilling to order any of the food for her own family and assured me that I didn’t want any of the stuff either. She waked with me to a restaurant with more palatable offerings and, after I explained that I don’t eat beef or pork, ordered a tasty tofu dish for me. She sat down at the next table over with her son and husband and, once their food arrived, invited me to join them. In the course of dinner, as the woman and her husband were continuously using their chopsticks to generously transfer their food to my rice bowl, I found out that she had just returned from a month-long stay in Xinjiang, the Muslim-majority province just north of Tibet. As I listened to some tales of her travels, the family made sure that I was eating my fill. I was enjoying my time with them so much, so was reluctant to tell them that I really had to leave them to catch my train. “Oh, we’re so sorry,” they kept saying. “Please hurry! Don’t miss your train.” But at the same time, they continued giving me more to eat. So after a filling dinner and parting ways with that delightful family, I made it just in time for my train. By that point, though, the train was already about bursting at its seams in terms of capacity (I was glad I booked my ticket in advance) and an ornery-looking guy reading a newspaper was occupying my seat. Another helpful family came to my rescue, and the husband accompanied me to the seat to tell off the seat thief, chase him away, and help lift my bulky backpack into the overhead storage department. Settling into my seat and watching as Shanghai blurred past into suburbia and industrial complexes, I finally realized how exhausted I was. After not much more than a moment to relax and reflect, though I pulled out my laptop and started typing this narrative. Honestly, I would have preferred to talk to my seatmates. Seeing as the guy to my left was engrossed in watching some Nicholas Cage film on what seemed to be a mini laptop or a giant i-Pod and the guy across the aisle to my right was snoring away, I turned to my typing. After the credits started rolling after National Treasure II, I started chatting with the guy to my left, who turned out to be a fashion design student on his way back to Nanjing from a fashion show in Shanghai, and insisted I call him William. As he told me about his hometown of Nanjing—all in Chinese, and most of which, I’m pleased to report, I understood word for word—I became more confident in my decision to go there to study and more excited to get started. Too soon, the train pulled in to its final stop at the Nanjing Railway Station and William kindly showed me to the correct subway, purchased for me the correct ticket, and we parted ways. Again a testament to the kindness of Chinese strangers: I asked a young woman who got off at the same subway stop closest to the hostel I’d booked how to find the street this hostel was on, and not only did she show me the way herself, but after admitting that she’d never noticed this hostel before and wasn’t quite sure where it was, called her friend to help. He came on a motorbike and helped take a load off my back by transporting my luggage to the hostel, which ended up being just across the street from where we’d stopped to get our bearings. After checking into my room, I went up to the top floor café to see what was going on in the Olympics (which was perpetually playing on the TV there) and at the hostel. There were two foreign guys sitting on a couple comfortable-looking couches and practicing Chinese, so I asked if I could join them. One told me to call him Ibs, short for Ibrahim, an Australian who spent the past 6 months studying in Shanghai and was to spend the next semester in Nanjing. With the other guy, Brian, our introduction went something like this: “Oh, so you’re signed up to do the CIEE program too? So where are you from? You go to IU to!?!” Small world. Turns out that, in this hostel on the other side of the world from IU, I happen to meet someone from my same school who’s doing the same study abroad program and also happened to have the same idea and spent the past few days hanging out in Shanghai. We had a great time and talked late into the night, I enjoyed my first bubble tea experience, we were joined by a jolly group of English travellers, and talked of our travels while the mindless but admittedly hilarious film “Old School” played with Chinese subtitles from a pirated DVD in the background. When we finally said goodnight and parted ways, I was glowing with the promise of tomorrow (first day of the CIEE program) and the feeling that I’m in exactly the right place.