Eric's Beijing Diary

I left Linxia this morning on a shuttle--actually a minivan. They guy charged me too much money. Oh, well. When I got here to the village of Shuangchen, I went to a public phone and called my teacher friend--the one I met in Lanzhou a couple weeks ago. He came and met me with his cousin and her sister. His cousin is the one who has set up the summer school program for village children. We stopped by her home so that she could introduce me to her parents. Her youngest sister waited on us politely. She was pulled out of school at the age of 11 or 12, because her father said he could not afford to send three children to school.

After lunch, we went to the little area where Jessica had rented a few rooms in which to hold her summer school. She charges each child 50 RMB, which is a pretty good price. This means that she is not making a bundle of money. This is her hometown, and she has a genuine concern for the wellbeing of these precious children. The children were understandably wide-eyed and curious, but very friendly and active.

This evening, after school, we hiked to the top of a nearby mountain, where there is a Daoist temple. We found, there, a few pilgrims who had come from various distances to spend some time in meditation. For me, it was just one more indication of the great spiritual hunger I have seen since I have been in China. So many times, over the past three years, I have heard people make remarks such as, "We Chinese have nothing to believe in." I lived in America for 40 years, and never once heard anyone say this. There is a powerful vacuum of belief in this country.

I am staying in a village guest house. Ten kuai a night. This afternoon, I took a nap and when I woke up, I noticed that one of my fingers had blown up like a balloon. It didn't hurt, but it was very swollen. I couldn't figure out why I hadn't noticed it before, and was trying to decide if I should start taking my antibiotic. This evening, the lady who runs the place came to my room and sprayed some sort of chemical on the beds. I was about to tell her to stop, because the chemical odor was stifling. But it has suddenly occurred to me that the swelling I have on my finger must be the result of some kind of bug bite. I am scaring you now; you really don't need to be afraid of staying in a place like this. Just be sure they spray your bed before you take a nap. When I was a kid, we used to say, "Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite." That little ditty has rich meaning in a place like this.