Cut off from the rest of the world when engineers dammed the Yellow River and flooded Liujiaxia Gorge, the ‘Ten Thousand Buddha Cave Grotto’ can only be reached by boat and even then only during certain times of the year. In winter, there is ice and low water. In the spring, the Tibetan Plateau snowmelt raises the water level and allows boats to access the site during the summer and fall. No roads go there. The boat that brings you in also brings you back out. So, without any other options, I waited in the boat besieged by vendors, who eventually lost interest due to the steady rain. While waiting, I thought about the process of waiting and how it was a test of ‘Being Bingling Grotto.’ Why does it perturb us so much? For instance, while watching television, we are waiting but distracted from the fact that we are doing so. In that case, it doesn’t bother us. Waiting while staring at pictures that move is okay. But waiting for others to do something—even though the world is always moving, is not okay. Why? I looked around and realized fear was in there somewhere—fear that I would be left behind, fear that others wouldn’t do what I wanted them to do, fear that I would be uncomfortable, fear that reality wouldn’t live up to the vision I had already preprogrammed into my mind. The rain, rejoicing as it reconnected with the waters of the lake whispered, “Expectations are almost as troublesome as fear.” An hour passed as I pondered waiting. I was wet, but relatively comfortable, engaged in trying to decipher the riddle of waiting, only wishing that I hadn’t given away my potato chips. Time passed in an earthly way in this soggy but ethereal place. If I had just known then the boat wouldn’t leave in an hour and a half, that they would have actually waited for me no matter how long I strayed, I would have been at that moment climbing to the cliff top, exploring unguarded grottos, creeping and crawling, shrieking with delight, rain or no rain. But right then, I didn’t have a clue and thought that the minute I left the boat to go exploring, they would all return and leave me behind. Just then, a bruised boat they call a tourist yacht eased up to the steps, which served as a dock, and I watched the deckhand pull the boat in by rope and the passengers straggle off. I took out my camera and fired away. You can click here to view a brief slideshow of the colorful, arriving Bingling event. After all the passengers had disappeared into the grotto, I waited some more, until even the captain of our boat grew impatient, grabbed his umbrella and set off in search of our tardy boat mates. More time passed. Then, out of the rain, the soaked family appeared, an hour and a half overdue. Standing at the top of the steps, they looked around with nonchalance, descended the stairs and climbed aboard our boat. Soon, the captain was back, looking worried. Excited Chinese conversation ensued, exploding with exclamation points. Still missing was the young couple and the woman I had shared the taxi with. The rain poured down and we all sat in the boat in silence, every now and again wiping the condensation off the windows with lazy swipes of our hands. Out of the mist, as if summoned by magic, the orderly but excited yacht passengers reassembled and climbed aboard, after which the deckhand unhooked the anchor, the engine rumbled to life and pushed them backward out into the lake, where the ship turned lazily and drifted off. Wistfully, everyone on our boat watched them go then visibly sank back down into our collective purgatory. I realized I had been waiting on the clammy boat for almost two and a half hours, hours that I could have spent 'Being Bingling Grotto.' I was sitting in the back of the boat and with hornets of annoyance swarming my hive brain, stood up, navigated the narrow passage between the seats, and threw open the hatch, just bent on simple escape. And there, at the top of the stairs, smiling happily, were our missing boat mates. Their smiles collapsed when they realized that no one else was smiling back. Maybe it would have been okay if they had apologized. Explained that they were carried away by the thrill of the place. Promised to buy us all a coke. But instead they climbed aboard and argued with the captain who had lost money waiting for them. I couldn’t understand the words, but I understood the intent. The captain wouldn’t leave until they gave him some money. They were arguing that they were somehow in the right and were hurling insults at the captain, which turned the family against them, and everybody was shouting. Their arrogance made me want to slap them in the face with a cold wet mackerel, the grim image provoked by me being so hungry, wet and completely out of patience, yet I managed to hold my temper while they all took turns sneaking looks at me to see how I was taking it all. But the captain couldn’t hold his and got up and stormed off the boat. Oddly, inside the boat, everyone was silent. And suddenly, just like that, it all became very interesting. Without speaking, the young couple had silently reached an agreement, stood up in unison and got off the boat to confer with the captain. Between the foggy windows and the angle of where I was sitting, I couldn’t see much, except that they were still arguing, then the young woman did a curious thing. She moved quickly toward the captain and I thought she was going to hit him, but instead thrust a handful of wadded up bills directly into his coat pocket. And before you could say, “Did I really just see that?” it was settled, they all climbed back aboard and we were soon on our way. I looked at them all, acting now as if nothing had happened, and felt I had learned something important about how people handle intricate negotiations in China. To save face, the young couple wouldn’t admit fault except in private. The captain knew they would settle but had to show strength and refuse to move. But there was no way he could have kept that up for long, and everyone, including me, the unschooled laowai, knew it. Yet he knew enough to get off the boat so that it could all be settled away from prying eyes. We zoomed across the lake and I debated whether the lesson was worth the two and a half hours of waiting. Then as we overtook the tourist yacht and left them behind in a white wake of outboard spray, I felt some form of misguided revenge, but before I could enjoy it we were docking at what I later learned was called Big Harbor where our driver was waiting for us. And you would think that that was that. That we had all learned some small, yeasty life lesson and had changed in an imperceptible but important way . . . but no, sorry to say, there’s more . . . I wish there wasn’t, but there is. The arguing had only begun, and would resume in earnest.
2 Comments
Mary
7/11/2013 04:14:29 am
Oh no more arguing....they really tested your patience. Can't believe you rushed back and no one else was there. I would have been worried too that they would take off and leave me there..maybe they have all been there before and know that they don't leave you stranded but not speaking the language you never know. As always you are so adventurous. The video was great too!!! M
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Erika María
7/26/2013 01:52:40 pm
Nothing had happened... it reminds me Pura Vida Tiquicia!!
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