Smeared Type

By Jian Ping

It was a relief to get back safely to Beijing. The first thing I did after checking into my hotel was to take a long, hot shower. For three days, I only sprinkled cold well water on my face for a wash. The running water felt incredibly good.

Beijing Train Station--Waiting Room

The next day, I met my sister Wen and my brother-in-law Mingfu at the train station. The old Beijing Train Station located in the center of town appeared to be from an earlier era, so different from the sparkling new South Beijing Station. Travel by train is still the main means of transportation in China and the station was packed. After elbowing my way through security checks, I was swept forward in a stream of humanity into the No. 2 Waiting Room. 30 feet into the large hall, I found myself grounded on a spot the middle of nowhere, with no space to move forward or backward. As I was wondering how on earth I could find Wen and Mingfu in this crowd, I saw Wen slowly make her way forward in the main “walkway,” searching left and right with each step. She must be looking for me! I raised my hand and waved frantically to her. Miraculously, she saw me and gave me her usual calm smile. It took her five minutes to cover the 10-feet between us.

“We came early and Mingfu is waiting in front,” Wen said, equally relieved to find me.

It was challenging enough for her to move through the crowd without any luggage. There was no way I could join them. She decided to meet in our train carriage.

Our train moving at a speed of 242 kilometers per hour!

“Watch out for your belongings,” Wen said. She always worried about my carrying the bag on my back. Pocket picking was common in public places.  

The rush to go through the ticketing gate was another drama. I used to warn my American colleagues that if there were three people in front of a ticket office in China, they’d elbow their way to the front instead of forming a line. With at least a thousand people, the scene was chaotic. I grabbed my carry-on and backpack and simply moved with the flow. By the time I found my carriage and eventually reached my seat, I was sweating as if I had just finished a five-mile run.

Wen took over my luggage and placed it on the overhead rack, a space that she had taken for me with her handbag. 

“Sorry,” she apologized as if it were her fault. “I know you would have flown to Changchun if it were not because of us.”

Wen and me on the train

That was true. After a six-hour bumpy ride on a bus the day before, I was not looking forward to another six-hour train ride.

“I’d rather be with you,” I said.

Wen gave me the window seat and took out all kinds of snacks for me to munch on. I leaned against her shoulder and gave her hug. I already felt close to home.

Jian Ping, author of Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China. Visit www.mulberrychild.com, www.moraquest.com.

Mulberry Child is being developed into a feature-length documentary film by director Susan Morgan Cooper and will be released in 2011.

By Jian Ping

Site of Accident

I took the 1^st outbound Metra train at 5:55 this morning to give a talk at a Rotary Club in Algonquin, a northwest suburb of Chicago. Randy, a Rotarian at the club, graciously agreed to meet me at the Fox River Grove Station. It was a beautiful morning. As I read a book on the train, I couldn’t help from raising my eyes and looking at the trees and the buildings that passed by, their colors turning quickly from a light gray to bright gold with the rising of the sun.

As the train moved closer to my destination, I left Randy a message, telling him I was 10 minutes away. But shortly after I put away my phone, the train halted to a stop in the middle of nowhere. Passengers got restless after five minutes and I heard people talking over their phone, trying to find out what was going on. I picked up words such as “an accident,” “a pedestrian being hit.” The speaker on the train was eerily quiet. Just as I reached Randy over the phone, the train started moving. But my relief didn’t last long—the train pulled into the Barrington Station and the conductor got everyone off the train, saying this was as far as it could go. Fortunately, Randy offered to drive over and pick me up at the Barrington Station.

We managed to get to the breakfast meeting at Algonquin 20 minutes late. With the help of another Rotarian, I was able to hook up my computer to a projector and gave my talk after a quick breakfast. We rushed through a Q & A session and book signing. Donald, another Rotarian, gave me a ride back to the Barrington Train Station. We watched one train moving out of the station as we pulled in, and I was surprised to see the bright headlight of another train approaching. I thanked Donald and walked toward the platform. As I settled in a seat five minutes later, I heard a male announcer’s voice: “This is the 6:48 a.m. train. We are being delayed for more than two hours.” He didn’t give any reason for the delay and a conductor told me a high school student was hit and killed by a train earlier in the morning. My heart sank at the news.

Looking out through a window, I could see a few clusters of high clouds against the blue sky and the sun was shining beautifully, oblivious to the tragic loss of a young life. I couldn’t bring myself to imagine the fatal moment when the teenager decided to step onto the tracks as a fast moving train approached.

“Once again, sorry for the delay,” the male voice from the speaker brought me back to reality when the train moved into the Chicago Station. “We’re doing everything we can to manage the situation,” the voice continued. “It’s still a beautiful day out there. Let’s make the best out of it.”

I got off the train, nodding farewell silently to the conductor. Streams of people rushed out from the platform and moved quickly to get to their offices or other destinations. My thought turned again to the teenager who lost his or her life earlier in the day. I felt keenly aware of the vulnerability of life.

Yes, I thought of the announcer’s words, we sure need to “make the best out of it,” out of every day of our life.

(Only later in the afternoon I found online that the death of a senior from a high school was ruled suicide. His car was found 20 feet away from the accident site and an engineer on the train saw him walk onto the tracks as the train approached!)

Jian Ping, author of Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China. Visit www.moraquest.com, www.mulberrychild.com.