He Who Dares

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A Journey of a Thousand Li Begins from Under One’s Feet.

LAO-ZI: THE TAO AND ITS VIRTUE
C. SIXTH CENTURY B.C.

“Do not sneeze, cough or form any bodily gesture that may alert the swine flu police”, I warned myself upon entering China. Striding past equally dreary traveller’s en route to swine flu screening and customs I gave my nose one final blow, those around me scattered in search of germ free air. I felt relieved, if slightly embarrassed, but pleased that I would no longer be competing with half of China for the square of carpet ahead. After five minutes of walking, without any pushing or shoving those in front began to slow and those around me, with much trepidation moved closer. I completely underestimated the severity of what has become a routine check. As I had not disclosed that I was suffering from five of the ten swine flu symptoms, an unexpected introduction to the Chinese police loomed. Standing nervously in the queue, debating whether to tick the blocked nose column or just plead ignorant, I was waved forwards and ushered past the giant thermometer. I repeated quietly, “Do not sneeze, cough or form any bodily gesture that may alert the swine flu police”, thankfully, I did neither. The young man behind the computer screen, with his mouth masked and hands protected looked into my tired eyes and mumbled, “xiexie”, my basic mandarin translated this to “thank you” - I had officially entered China.

Walking through the arrival gates, without a recognisable face in sight, I searched for a Huang Jing - she was supposed to be meeting me. Having been hurried through a tunnel formed by people waving placards, posters and flags, I had missed her. Consequently, I was faced with winding myself and my luggage - why did I bring golf clubs? - through the oncoming flow of people. My finest salmon impression failed. Looking lost and helpless, I was tapped on the shoulder, “Mr Neil?”, asked a lady with a tentative smile, “Yes”, I replied sharply - Mrs Jing had found me, I almost hugged her. Huang, bemused as to why I had brought so much luggage led me to her car. We quickly established that my mandarin was limited to; ‘xiexie’ (you should know what this means by now), ‘ni hao’, which is ‘hello’, and ‘pijou’, which is the translation for beer - her grasp of the English language, however, was broken but impressive. I asked Huang, “How proficient do you think my mandarin will be after six months of intense lessons?”, she replied, “You better put your seat belt on, the young boy I collected yesterday did not think I was a very good driver”, forgetting my initial question, I politely reassured her, “I am sure you are fine”.

Without meeting one of my classmates, I was confident that we already had one thing in common, this being that we would never step foot in a car with Huang Jing again. I just hope that after six months of studying mandarin that my level of fluency is more advanced than Huang’s driving ability. Nevertheless, I am extremely grateful to Huang for welcoming me to Beijing, the place I will make home for the next six months.

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