Marcus T. Anthony- Journey to Yan Ji

8/3/2019 Marcus T. Anthony- Journey to Yan Ji

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Journey to Yan JiMarcus T. Anthony

I lurched into the office, ducking under the doorframe, and dumped my

teaching gear onto my desk. My butt had barely hit the seat when

Shelly, the pretty young Chinese office assistant called to me.

Marcus, phone call!

I gathered myself and walked briskly over to the phone. Who could

possibly be calling me at this time of the day? (11.30am).

It was Jean, the Chinese director of the Chinese office of the

company I worked for. I worked at a Beijing university English

foundation program, but my real employer was in fact a Beijing based

education group.

How would you like to go to Yan Ji this weekend?, Jean said coolly.

I didnt have the faintest idea where Yan Ji was.

Its right near the Korean border. Jean spoke purposefully down the

phone. You could really help me out you know. Tom, our usual guy is sick.He had to go back to England. So Im stuck.

Jean also worked for a certain Australian university as their

representative for China. She regularly traveled to other cities in

China to promote the university. Tom usually went along with her, but

not on this occasion, as fate would have it.

So thats how it all began. Now Im a spontaneous kind of guy. I

immediately said yes. After all, my stint in China, up till that day somesix months, had been mostly uneventful, being primarily confined to the

vomit colored interior of the office at the university. The job was a

demanding one. Including my part-time PhD studies, it was not unusual

for me to spend fifteen hours a day in the office. Typically I would get

out of bed at around 7.30am. Sometimes my work would finish at


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5.00pm, but just as often at 7.00pm. Then it was time to hit the books.

Often it would be 11.00 pm before I would leave the office. The office

lights would abruptly go off for about five seconds at around 10.55, to

warn all those souls foolish enough to still be on campus that the doors

would be locked in five minutes. Afterwards I would amble back along

the mostly empty streets toward my apartment building. Usually Id be

in bed by 11.30 or twelve, then be up early the following day for the

next round.

Company HQ was situated in a fairly modern high rise downtown, a

stark contrast to the bomb shelter of an office I occupied at the

university. Jean smiled warmly when she saw me. I accepted her offerto sit down.

Here is what you need to know, she said handing me a four-page flyer

about the university.

I eyed it nervously. This is it? I asked incredulously.

Oh, your job is easy she said with a wry smile. You just have to

bullshit. Thats my job too. Its all bullshit. She had spent 16 years in

Australia, so she knew the vernacular.

Thats very reassuring, I muttered. And there it was. All I needed to

know about University in Australia. I was to be the spokesperson,

the foreign representative of the university in China, imparting

fountains of wisdom to the eager young Chinese minds anxious about

their future prospects of gaining a place at an Australian university.

The fact that I had never set foot in the university nor knew the firstthing about it was, of course, irrelevant.

The plane landed in Yan Ji just after lunchtime that day, Friday. The

journey had been pleasant enough, a mere two hours. I traveled with

Jean, and Mindy. Mindy was a quietly spoken young Chinese woman who


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worked in Jeans office. Dont ask me what she was doing on the trip.

After disembarking and collecting our bags, we headed outside. There

were two immediate and simultaneous impressions of Yan Ji. The first

was the air - crisply fresh, especially when compared with the carbon

monoxide soup I had been used to inhaling in Beijing. The second

impression was the instant sense that this place was small. No high

rise, at least not around the airport. Just a small car park and a few

disheveled buildings.

Our hosts had picked us up, an entourage of three Chinese women all

from a certain language school in Yan Ji. The school regularly

sponsored students to study abroad. They were happy to receive us inYan Ji. Only Trish, the principle of the school could speak good English.

She greeted me with a somewhat forced smile and said a few friendly

words, then proceeded to talk with Jean and Mindy. This was to set

the tone for the rest of the trip. I, the lone male, stuck in the middle

of a pack of mostly Chinese speaking females.

We were first taken to eat. The selection was small Korean restaurant

in the middle of town. Being so close to Korea, much of the food, and

indeed culture of Yan Ji is Korean. A large number of Koreans livethere.

I tried to speak with the attractive but quiet young Chinese girl who

was at the table with us. My Chinese is not good, but passable.

Are you a student at the school I queried?

She blushed, and the other woman laughed. I was surrounded byChinese woman and there was no escaping.

How old do you think she is? Trish asked?

I mumbled something just a bit less than 20, hoping not to offend her

or my guests. Inwardly I estimated about 20. They laughed again.


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Apparently I was only about a decade off. Just as hint - she wasnt nine

years old.

The food was served, a mostly Korean concoction of garlic mixed with

more garlic, something like onion, lots of ground chilies, chili sauce and

a bit of pig thrown in for the hell of it. There was beer too, which I

supposed was probably to be used as an anesthetic.

Try it offered Trish with a smile.

I took a mouthful and smiled. Really good I lied. I drank more beer

than usual that afternoon.After some time Trish announced that there was a special trip for all

the guests organised the next day to some place called Tien Chi Hu.

Immediately my heart sank. Oh no, not a tourist trip, I thought! Just

let me sleep in the hotel, please. Somehow, deep inside me I just knew

it would be awful.

Its very famous said Trish. Everybody who comes to Yan Ji goes

there. Tien Chi Hu means Sky Pool Lake. I didnt really listen to the

rest of the pitch. I had been hoping for a nice quiet day the next day.We had one day spare on our itinerary. The university presentation was

not until 12.00 midday, Sunday. I had planned to stay in the hotel room

and study for my PhD, and also prepare for my speech. I had brought

along a few study materials and had it all worked out.

Come on Marcus, youve got to go, said Jean. Reluctantly I agreed and

took another mouthful of Kim Chi to quell the pain.

For the rest of the day we were shown around Yan Ji. The town

consisted of small streets, small people, and absolutely tiny taxis. I

couldnt believe the size of the taxis. An anorexic pigmy dwarf would

struggle to get in one.

Anyone got a can opener, I mumbled as I struggled to get my 195cm


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frame into the rear of the taxi. The humor was lost on my friends and

hosts. We were driven to the school. After peeling myself out of the

vehicle, we were ushered around the school. It was nice enough and our

hosts were friendly.

After chit-chat and business small-talk we were whisked off to the

hotel. Jean and Mindy were in the room next door to me. They said

good night and said that they were going to bed. I explained that it was

only 8.00pm.

We have to get up at 4.00am tomorrow, Jean said with a grin.

My face dropped. Apparently there was a four hour bus trip involvedand we would be out of town till about 5pm in the afternoon. I closed

the door politely.

I turned on the TV in my room, but found the menu consisted totally of

Chinese and Korean language programs. So I lay back on the bed and

relaxed. My eyes wandered around the room and fixed on a card on the

table. Restaurant service, room service hmm, massage service. I think

I mentioned before about my being a spontaneous kind of guy.I picked up the telephone and dialed the number.

How much is it?300 Yuan So expensive! I grumbled. At last I

relented. I figured I was on a holiday, so what the hell.

There was knock on the door about three minutes later and a young

lady entered the room. She wore casual clothes and had a distinctly

Korean look about her. I dont know how to describe the differencebetween the Chinese and the Koreans, but there is something. Maybe

its just a vibe or something. Something else (perhaps a mans sixth

sense which has developed over thousands of years of evolution) told

me that she was also a prostitute. Now I knew why it was 300 Yuan.


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Ni hao, I said. She echoed the greeting back to me in Korean accent.

I was feeling rather embarrassed at that point. I didnt want to do the

horizontal deed with her, but didnt want to offend her either.

I dont want to make love with you, but a massage is OK, I said in

Chinese. She looked at me as if I was from the outer moons of

Neptune, then told me she couldnt speak much Chinese.

Somehow, with a little body language I managed to explain the deal.

She looked rather perplexed. So I kept my underpants on and laid down

on the bed. She rubbed my back with one hand while she watched TV,

totally disinterested. It was truly the worst massage I had everreceived. After no more than ten minutes she said OK and looked at

me.

Thats it? I asked rather disgusted. You want 300yuan for that? I

demanded more massage time. In Beijing you can get a professional

massage for one hour for 80 yuan. So she massaged me for a few more

minutes, then stopped. By that time I was rather annoyed. I gave her

the 300yuan and hurried her towards the door. I was hoping to hellthat Jean and Mindy werent in the hallway at the time she left.

Give me 100 yuan tip, she said as she was leaving.

No bloody way!, I said as I pushed he out the door. Luckily my work

colleagues were nowhere to be seen.

There was already some light at 4.20am when the bus rolled up. We

clambered on. Jean and Mindy sat together just I front of me. Icrammed my legs into the too-small space that masqueraded as leg-

room and tried to get to sleep. But it was just too uncomfortable. I

closed my eyes for while and went into a semi-hypnotic state. When I

opened my eyes I looked around and saw the sun was fully out. The

Chinese man in the seat next to me was staring at me. Now the Chinese


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are the most annoying starers in the world. For some reason they think

they have the right to just look at you all parts of you without even

trying to disguise it. Somewhere a long time ago their mothers forgot

to tell them that staring is rude.

As I do sometimes when I am being stared at, I stared straight back

at him, right into his eyes. He didnt flinch, but kept right on staring,

like I was a gorilla in a zoo or something. I dont know why some Chinese

do this. I suspect because at some level they dont quite think of

foreigners as human. They forget that we feel uncomfortable and

annoyed too if people stare at us too much. After about ten seconds he

looked away. But he kept looking back regularly. I thought aboutbeating my chest and making some booga booga! noises, but didnt on

account of the fact that I didnt want attention from the other

passengers as well.

The bus made its way along some winding roads, through forests and

small villages until we arrived at into a more mountainous area.

There was no toilet on the bus, as is the norm in China. I find thatincredible. How can you have a bus service, where there are trips of

several hours between stops and have no toilet? What do the children

do when they want to go? Strangely, not one of the Chinese people on

that bus had to go in the first three hours before our first stop. But I

was absolutely busting.

There was a small brick hut perched on the side of a small precipice.

That was the toilet. The mens consisted of a single room with twoholes about a foot in diameter smashed out of the floor. There were no

cubicles, so if you wanted to do a squat then everyone would have to

good look at you taking squat, I guess. It occurred to me that if the

locals found my sitting on a bus so fascinating, just think of the queue

if I had to take a squat. I could charge admission for sure.


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Luckily neither I nor anybody else was doing their business at the time

I was there.

I looked down into the hole and saw that there was a drop of a few

metres. The droppings all fell down onto the ground below the small

building.

It was awful, but the show had to go on. The bus lurched onward until

we entered a national park area. I was beginning to feel relieved. We

crossed small streams and passed by scenic hills and cliff faces. This

would be a nice change from Beijing, I thought, with its endless smog

and traffic jams.

We rounded a bend and there before us was a straight stretch of road

leading up to what looked like a waterfall, perhaps a kilometer ahead.

But that was not the most prominent thing. For stretched out in front

of us, like a prosthetic implant from the suburbs of Beijing was a line

of buses, four-wheel drives and other vehicles that stretched on

forever. There was no way through. We sat there, on the mountain, in

the traffic jam, for about 20 minutes. Just when we thought thingscouldnt get any worse, it began to rain - really heavily. Everybody

started to grumble. An enterprising woman entered the bus bearing

blue rain-coats. Jean, Mindy and I all purchased one. When the rain

eased off a little, we put on the raincoats. Unfortunately anorexic

dwarf pygmies must have been common in these parts, because the

raincoat barely got below my waist. Whats more the buttons could not

be unfastened, probably due to a manufacturers fault for that

particular batch. None of us could unfasten them, so we just had towrap them around us.

There was a winding path that crossed several quaint wooden and stone

bridges. The three of us ascended a part of the way to the waterfall,

but decided that it was too dangerous to go further. There were


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hundreds if not thousands of people using the slippery, steep paths and

bridges, and if anybody slipped, you would be wearing them. So we just

took a few photographs, and descended. The entire area around Tien

Chi Hu is a volcanic area. So steam was rising from the streams and the

mud in some places. That was rather intriguing. It warmed us up a little

and made us forget about the rain.

The bus headed off to our next destination. When we arrived it was

about 12.00noon. It was a small village, which was really no more than a

tourist stop . A few souvenir shops were scattered along the strip. It

was revealed that our wheel drives would stop and whisk us up the

mountain to see the lake. Unfortunately the demand for four-wheeldrives was greater than the supply. There were hundreds of people

lined up waiting for the vehicles. After about an hour of waiting, we all

became rather annoyed. Jean, a rather strong-minded woman not known

to take nonsense from anyone, began to complain bitterly.

This is ridiculous. She wailed. If they advertise this tourist spot,

they should have enough facilities to cater for everyone. But we must

wait for hours here!Both Mindy and I couldnt agree more. But I had reached the blissful

state of surrender. I had consciously decided not to fight the situation

any more. This was China. Whatever services they had, however

inadequate, we would just have to accept it.

Two hours passed, and still no four-wheel drive for us. Some of the

Chinese people were becoming very angry. Heated words were being

exchanged with tour guides and other official looking people, whomostly just looked anxious and helpless. The system was obviously

totally inadequate to cater for the demand. Jean walked over to what

amounted to an office building. She confronted an official, really

letting him have a mouthful. She was no typical Chinese woman, and

didnt care about losing face. She threatened to take legal action


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against them.

Just to get away from the chaos I decided to walk across the small

road to a drink stall not more than 30 metres away. I picked up a

bottle of water. At that moment I thought I heard somebody call my

voice and turned around. It was all rather surreal. My eyes fixed on

Mindy, calling out to me. She stepped out onto the road.

Quickly, our car is here!, she yelled.

Unfortunately in her haste to inform me, she didnt look to see if there

was any traffic on the road. A four-wheel drive that was coming down

the hill from behind her put on the brakes, but not soon enough. I sawit hit Mindy, and send her sprawling onto the road. The drink can she

had been holding fell out of her hand and rolled down the road right in

front of me. Everything was happening in slow motion. I picked up the

drink can and ran over to her. She was conscious and sitting up,

sobbing. Luckily, the four-wheel drive was not traveling fast at the

time of impact. The man n the four wheel drive got out of his car. He

was apologizing frenetically, babbling in Chinese so quickly I couldnt

understand him. Mindy was cursing him between sobs

After checking that she was OK, I ran to get Jean. We helped Mindy

get up. She had a bruised hip, and a lot of pain in her arm, but she

could move it. Jean was furious. We took Mindy into the office area

and demanded a first aid kit. Nobody knew where it was. After some

time, one did finally arrive. A Chinese woman and Jean attended to

Mindy. All the time Jean was cussing and vowing revenge against the

organisers of the trip.

Ill go to the national TV stations! she blurted. I just nodded. There

was no point trying to pacify her. I was well and truly outgunned.

Fortunately, Mindy seemed to be OK. She appeared to be suffering

from a bit of shock, and had a few grazes and bruises but nothing was


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broken or missing.

Ultimately Jean decided to take Mindy to a local hospital for a check-

up. It was decided that I could proceed up to the lake, and meet them

later on the bus back to Yan Ji. Thus I found myself clambering into

the rear seat of a ridiculously new four wheel drive a short time later.

It was already around 3.45pm so it was getting a little late. There was

a Chinese middle-aged man in the passenger seat, and a young mother

and her daughter sitting beside me. The daughter was cute girl of

about nine or ten. Behind us sat another Chinese couple.

The driver was an early twenties Chinese cowboy (minus ten-gallon hat).He just about pushed the accelerator though the floor. We ascended

the steep and winding road up the mountain. The lake is situated in the

crater of a dead volcano. The roads were paved in thick solid brick

blocks, which is probably why I am still alive to write this story today.

The driver swung the vehicle around the hair-pin bends with such

speed and force that we passengers were all glued to our seats from

the G-force. I had never seen driving like it. The roads traversed

treeless grassed slopes. There were no fences or walls to stop us fromplummeting the hundreds of meters down the drops that bordered the

road throughout most of the journey.

Hey driver, slow down! I screamed in Chinese. I dont want to die

today! The little girl giggled excitedly. How sweet is the naivety of

the child I thought. Her mother giggled too, but there was no excuse

for her. They only encouraged the driver! The manic driving was

obviously due to the fact that the drivers were under extremepressure to get everyone to the top due to the major shortage of

vehicles. I also suspect that they were paid by the truckload (of

passengers), thus encouraging the recklessly fast driving. Later I

found out that a family and a driver had all died the previous week

when their four-wheel drive plunged off the road and down one of the


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steep precipices. I was hardly surprised.

The trip was about fifteen minutes, which was all I could handle

anyway. We were let out. I looked around and saw light green rolling

hills as, and a steep short rise in front of us. After saying a prayer to

the Creator for the miracle of my surviving the ride up, I left my

Chinese companions and clambered up the rise. It was steep, but it

took only a minute or two to climb.

Ascending to the top of the crest, I surveyed the scene before me.

Suddenly the frustration and the pain of the long and tortuous day

melted before me. There she was: Tien Chi Hu, nestled within theprotective arms of the volcanic crater. The actual lake shoreline was

perhaps 300 meters below us and another 300 meters before us. In

between was a steep rocky decline. The water was deeply blue, and its

placidity gave it the shimmer of a giant mirror. Around the lake there

were steep long inclines leading up to the crater face. The inclines

were covered in grasses (or perhaps mosses) of the deepest green.

Above this the pale blue sky was offset with frail threads of white

clouds. It was truly beautiful. Indeed, one of the most beautiful placesI had ever seen.

Now I knew why all these people came here. How remarkable, I

thought, that in this often crazy country of so much chaos and hustle,

where nothing seemed simple or convenient, there was this magnificent

jewel. I looked around at the handful of hardy Chinese souls who were

there with me, and suddenly I saw a different China - more than just

buses without toilets, taxis without change, or televisions withoutdecent English programs. I saw more than landlords over-charging

westerners, DVD peddlers hassling me on street corners, and Chinese

eyes staring at me on buses trains and in supermarkets. Instead I saw

something timeless there in that single shining blue eye of Tien Chi Hu.

I saw the vast timelessness of China and its people. I saw the futility


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of complaining about the small things that complicate life when there

was something greater than all this. How small I had become, I

thought. I thought of my friends sitting in ex-pat bars complaining

about all those things that make China what it is, and maybe what it

always will be. How many of us had taken the time to really know China

and its people, its language, culture and History? How many of my

friends would return home to Australia, Canada, America, New Zealand

or wherever and be no different , no better, no bigger than what they

were when they arrived here? How many would be the same - still

small? To think, having visited the third biggest country I the world

with a quarter of its population, and still be a Small Person.

I asked some Koreans to help take my photo before the lake. Maybe

some of its magnificence and immortality would be imprinted into my

soul from the photo. Then I looked round one last time. The amber

shades of evening were beginning to descend upon the lake. I knew it

was time to go. My vehicle would be leaving. And somehow I knew that I

would never go back there. But maybe, just maybe I would take

something with me.

The bus finally arrived back in Yan Ji at about 11.pm.

Mandy was OK a little sore but other than that she would make it.

She and Jean headed off to bed. I was tired. But as I think I said

before Im a spontaneous person

I showered and put on some fresh clothes. Then I headed out to

sample the wares of Yan Ji nightlife.

Take me to a disco or bar. I directed the taxi driver. He took me

about 200 metres and I paid him the small fee.

Got a can opener, Sir? I laughed as I extracted by personage from


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the taxi. There were some steps leading up to a doorway. I walked up

and into the bar. It looked more like a restaurant a few tables

scattered around some wooden uprights, with a wooden fence

fashionably traversing the interior of the room. There were three

Chinese guys there talking at a table, and a young couple sitting gin the

corner. Other than that, the place was empty. I ordered a beer.

Wheres all the fun around here?, I asked the waitress. Eventually she

wrote something in Chinese on a piece of paper for me. I quickly

finished the beer and left the place before sleep descended upon me. I

gave the paper to the cab driver. He drove me about 100 metres down

the road, and I paid him the fee.

The place looked pretty ordinary. I was told by the doorman that the

disco was on the fourth floor (not a good omen in China as the number

four (si) sounds like the word for death). In the elevator was an old guy

sitting on a chair. His eyes flickered up at me for a moment, as I

instructed him to take me to the fourth floor. Just as we approached

the fourth floor, there was an enormous crashing sound, and the

elevator suddenly dropped about thirty centimeters. Something veryheavy had smashed into the door of the elevator. I moved toward the

doors cautiously, but the old guy raised his hand, a hint of concern

crossing his face. We quickly descended to the ground floor again. The

old guy told me to wait five minutes, but I didnt understand the rest

of what he said.

I was a bit freaked out, but decided to hang around. I retuned to the

lift five minutes later, and the old guy took me to the fourth floor. Aswe approached the fourth floor once more, there was a mighty racket

that could be heard coming from outside. The elevator doors slid open

and I was immediately greeted by a sight reminiscent of a Hollywood

movie scene from a red-neck bar. There were dozens of policemen and

just a few less Chinese young men engaged in a huge brawl. I thought


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about it for moment, then stepped out of the lift and negotiated my

way between the fracas and over to the other side of the room. I

looked back rather worried, but eventually the youths were hustled

into the lift, and the room fell quiet, except for the rhythms of the

techno beat echoing out of the tinny sound system.

It was only then that I had a chance to survey the crowd. There were

three young foreigner guys sitting together at a table in front of me.

They looked totally bored, as did everyone else there. In fact the bar

was almost empty. There were perhaps a dozen young Chinese or

Koreans there, all of whom looked to me to be under 18 years of age.

There was no-body there over twenty as far as I could see. I figuredthat Yan Ji was probably like my home town, Taree, on the mid north

coast of New South Wales, Australia. After finishing school, everybody

goes to the bigger cities for work and excitement.

I ordered a draught beer from the bar. The young bar tender filled

the glass about three-quarters full, and pushed it at me across the bar.

I gave him the money but when I surveyed the glass and its contents, I

asked him to fill it up. The bar ender sneered at me with a look of suchutter hatred and contempt that it was almost comical. I repeated the

request, but he just folded his arms and looked away. I gave up and

took the beer away as far away as possible.

The three foreigners got up and headed for the door. One of them had

a flower and handed it to one of the pretty young girls there. She

smiled, but he didnt stay to get her phone number. Not long after I

also headed for the lift. I had had enough for one day. I headed hometo bed.

It was about 3.00am so I figured that if I got up at ten, I would still

have an hours preparation before the university presentation at

twelve.


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Unfortunately at 8am I got phone call from Jean.

The presentation has been brought forward to 9.00pm, she informed.

I groaned. I had had about four hours sleep, and was totally

unprepared for the presentation. There was a last minute scramble,

but somehow I managed to pull it of without anybody noticing the true

level of my incompetence. Perhaps that was because most of the

audience could not understand English and it was all being translated

into Chinese by Jean anyway.

Our plane was due out at 8.pm, but was delayed by about five hours. By

the time I got back to my apartment in Beijing it was almost 4amMonday morning. The first class was at 8.00am. I managed to get up at

seven and get there on time. I had had a total of about 11 hours sleep

in three nights. Some of my students turned up late for class. One of

the students who was absent from the morning class come to the

afternoon class.

I'm sorry, but I didnt sleep well last night so I couldn't get up, he

said.

I was not impressed.

Marcus T. Anthony- Journey to Yan Ji

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