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Except for Katarena. She was irritated that we hadn't
renewed our time with the taxisto for the luxurious tour of the
mecca of Xi'an. She had learned that, many centuries ago, it was
better known as Chang'an, capital of Cathay, a terminus for the
famous Silk road, and surpassed other great world cities such as
Rome, Athens, and Istanbul, for cosmopolitan life during its heyday.
“How can you possibly lay around when there is so
much to explore?!” Katarena yelled, angry at us for being such
sloths. She stormed down the hallway and out of sight, but certainly
not out of (my) mind. We had had good luck earlier, but I was still
conscious of my wife's directive, and soon heaved my weary body up
off the floor to trail Katarena. She hadn't gone far, and this time,
I assuaged her with the purchase of iced tea for both of us. We sat
in the forbidden zone, and were recognized by the same waiter who
had kicked us out earlier, except now he was delighted to assist us.
Katarena knew what else she needed to help her improve her attitude,
and she found it at the magazine rack: the next issue of “The
Economist”, with both President Bush and Prime Minister Blair under
a hand magnifier below the title “Sincere deceivers.” This could
easily be a promo for the Michael Moore's movie, “9/11”, which we
had tried to watch yesterday. Katarena became happily engrossed with
the article, but was especially cognizant of the cartoon on page 7,
which epitomizes their—and now our—problem.
Time passed quickly, and before we knew it, we needed
to get onto the airplane. Already experienced, we bought the 50 ¥
($6USD) CAAC toll as we went through the mechanics of boarding. This
time, even though we were boarding the same airline we had been on
getting here, we paid 210 ¥ ($25USD) more per ticket. Instead of the
Q class in the morning, we were now in the H class, and walking down
the boarding ramp, I noticed that we were going into the same kind
of airplane, an Airbus 320-214. In fact, we occupied the same
seats in row 4 that we had been in several hours ago; there was no
difference.
Except one: time of day, as explained by Steven,
when I had purchased the tickets three days ago at the Beijing
Tourist Information Center. “I see there is a difference in the
price on the tickets, but please understand, this is one of the most
popular flights in China and the demand drives up the price. A
special is offered on the other flight to increase demand, but the
more expensive ticket is decrease demand.” It was simple
supply-and-demand economics, the capitalist economy prevalent
throughout China.
Returning to Beijing in twilight, a man saw us and
offered a personal escort to the Great Dragon Hotel at only 40 ¥
($4.60USD) apiece. It was late, and I didn't want to mess around, so
we accepted and followed him out of the terminal toward the parking
lot, bypassing the central taxi stand.
“If it isn't a marked taxi,” I whispered to Katarena
and Enrique, “we aren't going with him. We don't want to push our
luck.”, referring to our unmarked taxi in Xi'an.
The man was leading us to an increasingly darkened
corner of the parking garage as my alertness level jumped, and I
finally stopped us from going.
“Sir, thanks but no thanks. I want us to take a bus.”
Turning around, I pushed Katarena and Enrique ahead
of me, back to the lights of the terminal. Once there, we bought
tickets at 16 ¥ ($2USD) apiece, and took the last seats aboard a
bus. This was probably just as dangerous as going into an unknown
parking garage space with a stranger because we had no idea of where
this bus was going into a city of 14+ million people. “OK, you two,
keep your eyes open for any landmarks.” were my instructions for
them.
The bus motored out of the airport, onto the smooth
highway, much less congested at (23:00). We said nothing, but kept
looking out for anything that help us identify our location.
Outside, the scene was spooky dark for a while, then gradually
brightened as we entered the city. Soon, we were on one of the ring
roads, speeding through suburbia, when Katarena grabbed my arm,
shouting, “There it
is, that's our hostel!”
“She's right!” agreed Enrique.
By the time I looked, I could see nothing—the bus had
already sped by. I rushed up to the front of the bus, and pleaded
with the driver to stop and let us off. Unfortunately, he knew about
as much English as I knew Chinese, so I resorted to hand signals.
Fortunately, he paid no attention to me, which is probably good
because any distraction might have sent us into opposing traffic or
plunging off an overpass.
Then I saw the Canon Building, its red marquee lit
up, and knew our location, if we stopped soon. Where we stopped was
extremely familiar, across from the Ancient Observatory, close to
Chang'an Jie. I saw the road sign and knew why the road was so
named; not only did it mean “place of permanent peace”, it also was
in honorable recognition of the older, and longer-lived, former
capital of China, present-day Xi'an.
Stepping out of the bus, I faced the driver and
spoke “Xièxie!”, which sounds like “Shee-she”, as it was the only
Chinese I knew, with a bow. The driver bowed his head in reply, and
my family began walking in the sallow street light. I knew where we
were, and suggested to Katarena and Enrique that we take a hutong
for a shortcut to our hostel. Looking down that incredibly dark
alley, they demurred, preferring that we stay out on the main roads,
where there are at least street lights, albeit dim. It had been an
excellent day so far, taking only a minor risk with our transport in
Xi'an, and avoiding all other far-riskier situations afterwards,
including this shortcut.
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