The journey began with a caution: If you are traveling during the Spring Festival (AKA Chinese New Year) you had better get your tickets early. With twelve days left before my scheduled departure, I thought—piece of cake. Yet, at the ticket office, it was another story. On the day I wanted to leave, all trains were booked. The ticket seller, dressed smartly in a railroad worker’s uniform, blue shirt, red tie, dark blue pants and military-style jacket, spoke no English but conveyed that message clearly. “What about the next day,” I said in English. She looked at me like a dog looks at TV until I pulled out my phone and pointed to the calendar. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, shaking her head no-no-no-no-and-no, wait a minute . . . pause, squinting her eyes at the computer screen, yes! One last bed in the hard sleeper car, the top berth. On Chinese trains, there are basically three types of tickets: a regular seat, which are arranged as two, separated by the aisle, then three more; the so called ‘hard sleeper’, which consists of bays of 6 bunks, 3 per side; and last, the more expensive ‘soft sleeper.’ I wanted a ‘soft sleeper’ there and back, but it was not to be. I pointed to when I wanted to return and she smiled, I was in luck; I could get a ‘soft sleeper’ on the way back. I took out my money to pay, but the woman wanted something else. The more she tried to explain what she wanted, the more confused I got. The line was getting longer behind me. I froze like a simpleton, completely dumbstruck, staring at her like a dog watching TV.
Then an unlikely savior appeared. A young woman, blushing at the idea of being so forward, told me the woman needed my to see my passport to complete the transaction. I wasn’t carrying it but pulled out a copy, hoping that would suffice. No deal. I had the young woman explain that I would go and get it, but the ticket seller let loose a rapid burst excited Chinese. My savior explained that as long as the transaction was in progress nobody else could get my ticket. If it were voided, all bets were off. Yikes! She asked how long it would take to go get my passport and I told her 5 minutes. Then, amazingly, she asked the people behind me in line if they were willing to wait while I went to get it. Surprisingly, they all nodded yes. I burst out the door, through the gate, down the alley, around the corner, scattering three old grannies who cursed me in Chinese, frightened a poodle on a leash wearing a sweater, swerved through the courtyard, unlocked the common door, ran up three flights of stairs, unlocked my apartment, grabbed the passport, raced back down, retraced my route and burst back in, huffing and puffing in exactly 4 minutes and 26 seconds. Remarkably, everyone was still waiting patiently in line, the ticket seller was beaming in what I imagined her delight in how I had made it back in under the promised 5 minutes, but the biggest surprise was that my beneficent savior had stayed there to see my folly right through to its successful conclusion. I grinned goofily while everyone frowned as if to say—get on with it. And so, that is how I claimed the last train ticket to Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan province, twenty-two slow hours by rail to the southwest. Part two will follow.
1 Comment
Mary
2/18/2013 04:18:16 am
I don't know how you made it in 4 min 26 seconds it took me 5 minutes to read it and I was out of breath by then. They are also very trusting as in the US they would not hold up a line for anything let alone to trust that you would even return. Good job!!! I really see the difference in the soft sleeper car wow good thing you got one for the way back at least....so much nicer. What happened to your savior? Awaiting part 2 ~ Mary
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