The Far West: nineteen days in China by Carrie King

wherein we squeeze the bus out of the alley for the last time. to a park with a lake of fishermen, and a food market, and into the hutong. the bicycle-chalkboard picture will be the classic shot, hope it turns out. the former home of the pharmacist, now the abode of several families and two myna birds. doorguard stones: size does matter.

school of small happy children whose parents can afford 25,000 yuan tuition a year when the average monthly wage is 2,000. and still they do not have real grass, only astroturf. but they get piano lessons.

on through the hutong. group pause for hungry members (not me) to buy bananas. winding alleys through expanses of low buildings. wherein the bicycle and chalkboard (left over from cultural revolution neighborhood announcements). caravans of bicycle-taxiing tourists from another company.

and then we travel to the opposite extreme, the summer palace made extravagant by infamous dowager empress cixi using funds intended for the modernization of the navy. hence the irony of the marble boat.

our boat ride across the lake. sunny and shady side. and then we are off to the train station, where we lounge in the luxurious seating of the soft-seat lounge. no hard seats here, no sir. onto the train and we get two per compartment after all. we fill one car except for compartment 1. pulling out at 5 instead of 5:30 we traverse late afternoon countryside that is wonderfully interesting despite sometimes moving too fast to be photo-friendly (goat herds).

harder to see in the dark. sheets not the cleanest; used a t-shirt for pillowcase, at least it wasn't too cold. hardish to sleep in noisy and moving and strange. but then, in the dark, the beauty of one firework. and then another. farmers just wanna have fun.