Adventures in Inner Mongolia: one of my first decent compositions in Chinese, for those of you who can read it

考虑到内蒙古的土地那么大，人口那么少，那里的名胜古迹和天然风景区比较寥落，所以去内蒙古旅游十天那么短时间非得花很多时间坐交通工具不可（我的旅有是坐火車，大巴和吉普車。古代的時候，一般是马或著骆驼。) 我在内蒙古的旅游也是那样，但是四次坐车坐半天肯定很值得。坐车那么长时间，旅游团的领队一直忙着放电影或著給我们看相声，听音乐等。我们的旅游结束之前，有几部电影看过两次，每首歌听过好几次。有一首歌，歌词唱道，“我心爱的草原在哪里？”我这次去内蒙古以后，还不能用自己的经历确定地回答，因为我们去的地方不是内蒙古的草原的地，反而是内蒙古最西部的部分。

西部没有蒙古族其他住的地区那么有名的草原，其实比草原还干燥。我们去了一些很有独特的地方，例如额济纳，阿拉善高原，巴丹吉林沙漠，胡杨林，黑城，怪树林，等。最后那一天我们从甘肃的兰州坐火车回南京来。那些地方都很干，不过除了巴丹吉林沙漠以外都有植物，从小小的到很大叶子开始变成黄色的树。再说，虽然土地那么干，风景还出人意外地有多次变化。风景的界标少倒是少，不过对我来说看风景比看功夫电影有意思。一会儿有记漂亮的叶子黄色的树林，一会儿有怪树林的真的奇怪的形状和影子，一会儿有平平的土地，一会儿有不平地形，一会儿有沙漠中美不胜收的沙丘。

如果这一次去内蒙古是由我自己安排的，我旅游的经历肯定会很不同。一来我大概没有机会去看那么多有特色值得一看的地方。二来，因为我跟中国人一起去的，这一次旅游的心情，人情，习惯也跟我以前旅游的经历有点不同。例如，当我们美国人去旅游看天然风景区的时候，一般的时一个人或者几个关系比较密切的人最远的地方，要独自的跟自然界在一起。像我们刚学完的第二课的文章，西方人普遍看重的是自我独立和个人主义，中国社会讲究人缘跟合作。因此我们参加这个去内蒙古的旅游团的人任何事都一起做，包括做饭（好多顿饭我们吃的是方便面），搭帐篷，或者收拾行李，洗脸刷牙。我们团一共有二十八个人。除了我以外，都是中国人。我真感谢大家都很友善地，很谅解地接受我，赵瑛我，每天一天到晚跟他们在一起交流，说汉语，我肯定体验得很多，我的中文水平肯定进步得不少。我跟他们在一起玩得很愉快。下次有机会，真想要回内蒙古去。要是需要选择，要想这次跟大的旅游团在一起去旅游或者想美国人的习惯一个人去旅游，我大概会选择向这一次比较中国的经验。

On the Jet Plane...

WHAT is it about these rare, long looked-forward to days of departure transit arrival that always serve to tie the disparate, tangled yet intertwined, threads of my existence together in my mind? Perhaps it’s the altitude of my vantage point here—37,000-odd feet above the landmass I’m ever striving to rise above, a higher-than-birds-eye view from which the buildings roads farmfields forests that loom large while on the ground fade away into a tiny toy world soon to be obscured by clouds—that allows my lens on life (like my view of the structures that usually define it) to zoom out for a glimpse of the big picture.

Or, perhaps, these rare periods of relative relaxation that come with sitting in airport terminals (so sterile and all-the-same, but, because of the possibilities they represent, among the most thrilling places for me to be) and restlessly idling away the hours on airplanes (despite the inevitably exhausting scramble of the string of days leading up to my departures, I’ve never been able to sleep on planes: I’m convinced that the stuffy, stale re-circulated cabin air is infused with a gaseous form of adrenaline) offer an uncommon opportunity for reflection.

Or, is it the underlying theme of travel, this drive to rise above and move beyond the borders of hometown and state and country that provides an undercurrent of my life, that works to tie threads of fate together? Or a combination of the above? As I sit miraculously suspended in mid-air (and as the mighty aircraft, vehicle of my destiny, spews out more greenhouse gases than I choose to imagine into that very air), preparing to hit the ground running once I touch down in Shanghai, so much seems to come into focus.

Thoughts of my next couple days making my way from Shanghai to Nanjing are dwarfed by the scope of journeys that will follow, journeys planned and the possibility of those not yet imagined. This has been my ideal kind of summer: 9 days in California followed by almost a month of adventure in Australia; then, back to Bloomington (a town that has won me over in spite of expectations linked to its location in the state of Indiana) to plan and rehearse for the Silk Road Festival and lay the groundwork for an institute—also music- and Silk Road-related—that has the potential to strengthen my ties to that Indiana town for years to come; and now, finally, on to China, where I’ll spend a semester studying; then further afield into India, Bhutan, and Tibet. Then… Then? Into the thrilling expanse of the unknown, and beyond.

The Adventure Begins… for real this time.

August 19th, 2008

I don’t want this narrative to begin with a failure to disclose any important, interesting, and relevant information. So I’ll begin with a disclosure:

I am a dense, foolish, forgetful dimwit.

Some of you reading this might agree. But why would I make such a statement? Well, in anticipation of my coming departure, I’ve been going around for months telling everyone that “I’m leaving for China on August 18th.” On the morning of August 18th, my bags packed and all prepared for this long-awaited adventure to start, I arrived at O’Hare airport. Only to find out that…
(I cringe in embarrassment at my own stupidity at this crucial oversight)…

I arrived a day early. The United Airlines self check-in computer told me, “Please come back tomorrow, August 19th.” I pulled out my printed itinerary to verify this information. Indeed, the computer was correct. And alas, I was—gasp—wrong.

So after my grandma, who kindly came to see me off at the airport, hobbled her way into the terminal with no small hardship; after my mom went to pay for a place to park the car; I had to emerge from the check-in area and admit my mistake. My brother, who also came along to the airport, was poking fun at me non-stop for it the rest of the day, and claims he still will for years to come.

Although I was really ready to go, admittedly it was nice to have that one extra day (that I thought I’d be losing in transit anyway) to say a proper farewell, to really prepare myself to leave my home and my family for the next 10 months. To my surprise, no one seemed angry at my mindless—and costly—mistake. My mom, bless her heart that I know aches to see me go, was glad to have me around for one more day. We enjoyed that last evening together on the beach, went for one final refreshing swim, and saw a spectacular sunset. Then, the following morning at 6 AM, it was off to the airport again. Yesterday was just practice. This was the real deal. Today, there weren’t any computers telling me to come back again another day.