the Saga of returning (ii)

Yesterday, I was cooking dinner in my kitchen which faces the west overlooking the meadow park. It had been overcast all day. All of a sudden, the sun came out, the rose gold of a setting sun that was. It shone straight into my eyes, its radiance enveloping my body and spirit. My whole being was filled with indescribable warmth and hope.

I made a mental note to write about this magical hour. But then I remembered that first I was going to finish this Saga of Returning at the request of one reader (probably the only reader, lol). Herein was also an interesting connection between one's mood and the weather, not pleasant though.


The taxi took me to a starred hotel and there was only a deluxe king left. The room, spacious with a huge ensuite and a balcony, seemed almost too luxurious for 188yuan (approx. AUD30). I called mom who saw me off earlier on that I arrived in Hankou alright. It had been such a hectic night that I didn't realize that it was 2 o'clock already. With the aircon turned on and the room being warmed up, I treated myself to a hot bath. When all that was done, I wrapped myself in the feather-weight duvet only to find myself staring at the ceiling.

It was a completely different world here from that of a damp and crowded night on the railway square where thousands of people camped waiting for a train that would take them south (mostly). I, despite the difference of our material surroundings, shared with them the same communal anxiety of not being able to get a ticket. And this anxiety kept me wide awake. For them, it was a mission to get an affordable standing-room ticket or, a bit on the luxury side, a seat ticket. Of course, they would want to travel fast. But a delay of a day or two so as to land a cheap ticket was probably acceptable. For me, my problem was multi-dimensional. I needed to catch up with friends in Guangzhou, after which I'd travel to Hongkong for my connecting flight. I could not afford to travel any time later than tomorrow afternoon, this afternoon to be exact since now it was already the early morning. And to make sure that I'd arrive in good spirits for the farewell parties I needed a soft-berth for this 12hr journey, nothing like being stuffed in a seated carriage where standing-room tickets are oversold and one goes nowhere without first negotiating the jungle of legs.

I managed to doze off for a couple of times and had nightmares of losing my budget flight which was not refundable.In one episode I was even stranded at my parents' from the very beginning. The other episode had me making fanatic calls to Malaysia Airlines to postpone my flight. It was honestly the most ridiculous sleep I'd ever had.

I woke up at 9, overworked and too tired to feel hungry. I checked out, not knowing if I was going to have any luck today. I went back straight into the ticketing hall at the station. There were more than ten columns of people already queuing up, schools more standing losely at the end. A skinny mid-aged man navigating the queues up and down caught my attention. He had a ticket in hand and spoke to people from time to time. I guess he was a covert scalper, covert being they were theoratically not allowed to do this inside the ticketing hall. But as with most rules in China, there was always a way around it. Within minutes, he came near me.

"I have a ticket to Xi'an. I had some emergancies at home so the trip is cancelled. Miss, do you want the ticket?" I peeped at his ticket. It was worn and wrinkled.

"You have a berth ticket to Guangzhou?" I put it bluntly. He quickly looked around and gestured me to follow him. The instant ticket information screen said that there was no ticket to Guangzhou. I was left with no alternative.

Once we were in the open-air area of the square, far from the reach of any security post. He made a phone call. "I can get it for you, but only half an hour before the train departs."
"Are you sure you can get it? Half an hour before is a bit risky." I said.
"Don't worry. I have someone in there." He glanced at where we came from.

The price was 1.5 times of the official rate, paid on delivery. It sounded deceptively cheap for the desperate situation I was in. So I was glad and even thankful for the exploitation. At the moment, I couldn't care less how he was gonna get this ticket, or why he could get it when there was no ticket available according to the station, or why he could not get it earlier. There are bigger questions to be asked by the people who, spring festival after spring festival, get to strand on a popular railway square in cold nights some where in the country. The answers are obvious and I guess the people are just tired of asking.

The man took my phone number and took me to the main entrance of the station. "I'm going to secure your ticket. You wait around here before the train departs" So this was where our transaction would take place. He talked briefly with a rail worker at the gate and disappeared into the station. My anxiety eased and I started to see my surroundings.

The crowd around the entrance wore an identical "tired but alert" look. They just stood there or sat on their luggage peacefully. Twas very strange, everybody (except me) seemed to be in somebody else's company, yet nobody seemed to be in the mood for a chitchat.

It was definitely a cold morning. The moment it came into contact with the cold air, the warm breath turned into white cloud. There was nowhere to sit, no entertainment, just hard, frozen cement floor to put the feet on. I was amazed by the patience of the people around me. Their calmness contradicted the extreme shortage of personal space here, so much so that it was most eerily tranquil right now on this probably densest place on earth. The feeling was surreal.

[to be continued...]