Eric's Beijing Diary

Saturday night, as I was finishing my meal in the dining car, a couple ladies came and sat down across from me. They looked to be about my age. We had a very nice conversation, and they got up to leave as soon as they had finished eating. As soon as they left, a couple of young ladies who had been sitting at another table came and asked if they could sit down. Of course I welcomed them. As they were getting seated, one of them said apologetically, "We can only speak a little English." Well, they spoke a little English for about two hours. These two ladies were a generation younger than the previous two. The worked for a tourism company, and were preparing to go to the northeast corner of North Korea, where their company had built a five star hotel. I was somewhat surprised by this, because that corner of North Korea is very, very impoverished.

As we were talking, one of them asked me if I was interested in history. I don't know why--must have been something I said. I spoke of my interest in the fascinating, but very painful history of China in the 20th Century. The revolution of 1911, General Yuan Shikai selling out Qingdao to the Japanese, the rise of Chiang Kai-shek and his march to the north to unify the country in 1927, the conflict between the Communist Party and the Goumingdang, the revolution of 1949, and the various political movements that followed. As I talked, I noticed that their eyes looked a little glazed. Suddenly it dawned on me that these two young ladies had no ability to relate to what I was talking about. This younger generation of Chinese born after the Cultural Revolution has grown up in a very, very different China. A country bent on growth and prosperity. The stared blankly. Finally, one of them broke the silence,

"What's your favorite color?" We were back on track. Then we started talking about music. One of them said, "I like the Carpenters!" She started singing, "When I was young, I listened to the radio..." I said, "Yes, I've heard that before." I wasn't joking, either. I heard it on the cruise ship. I heard it at the Grand Lijiang Hotel. I am beginning to think every place in China that caters to foreigners uses the same musack track. Anyway, the waitress finally came and told us the dining room was closed, and we said goodbye.

Yesterday the trained pulled into Beijing at seven in the morning. I had enough time to get home and take a hot shower before church. In the afternoon, I got together at Milo's with some friends from church to plan our getting-together-again-after-a-long-time party. It's Monday now. I slept late this morning and took a very long nap this afternoon. Hmmm....must be tired. But it's good to be back. As always, it is fun to go, but it also feels good to return. Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.

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Labels: Summer 2004, Travel Shanghai