Month: February 2022 (page 1 of 1)

In Luang Prabang, there were small groups of Japanese tourists. The young man belonged nowhere despite Japanese, because he was a really doer―university classes, the part time job and he has been traveling all over the world. He knew he could move faster alone than in a group. He was appealing―short blond hair with fair skin, so unique, like a fashion model.

As he and I were strolled about the town, he said, “Why don’t we go to a sauna?” “Oh, that’s a good idea, where is it?” I said. “When browsing the internet on my phone, I found it. We just follow MAPS.ME.( GPS app).” I depended on its app too much―without it, I would be unable to travel abroad alone.

We were virtually right up to Lao Red Cross Sauna & Massage, but there was no such place that we roamed the street looking around. I recalled a decade ago I took long trips on my DragStar. Anytime I lost my way, I stopped and unfolded a map―what an arduous process. Sometimes I did not know where I was, while that was funny as it was.

The following day, we took a bus from Luang Prabang to Vientiane. Unfortunately, I was forced to hold my knees close to my chest because of a big bump on the floor in front of my seat, and in no position to stretch my legs. For ten hours, that was a harrowing ordeal for me. From time to time I hinted at this thing: “I can’t bear,” I mumbled in a fidget. “That’s unlucky,” he said, not paying me any mind while playing his smartphone or reading a book. If I were him, I would say: “Shall we swap seats?” That was odd. I thought seniority-based hierarchy was deeply rooted in Japan. I really envied him for not being a slave to such a custom.

In Vientiane, I collapsed clothed onto my bunk in our hostel. After a while I heard his voice from the upper one. “I will sent the photos of the elephant tour via AirDrop.” AirDrop? I had heard of it, but I had never used. Would he make fun of me for betraying my ignorance?

It occurred to me that most people in their seventies and beyond lived in no information technology. if he had been sensitive to the internet bubble( in the late 1990s), going to a computer class after retirement, if he tries to learn from young people who is into SNS, what will benefit him? He would enjoy communicating with his grandson on WhatsApp, posting pictures of his hobbies on Instagram and getting some information on Twitter. I only had to revealed my stupidity to enhance my life―he demonstrated how to use it and get done that quickly.

“By the way, tomorrow morning, you are going for a run, aren’t you?” he went on, “Could I come along with you?” I preferred to run alone at my own pace, but I could not help accepting his request, feeling hie zest. “I don’t mind, but you are too young. I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you.” I said, though I knew this was not likely―jogging was my daily routine.

“Let me make a suggestion. At first we will go to Patou Xay(the arch of Vientiane), then to Pha That Luang( the golden stupa) that was our goal. Jogging, simultaneously sightseeing, taking photos, therefore we can save us the trouble of going again.”

That was good idea, though he progressed at his own pace more agile than I, and while I admired his ability of gathering information. I assumed that young people today could reach a correct answer in the best way he shared it by using WhatsApp and Facebook, or read blogs and“googled” thoroughly.

His running form was not good at all, but he summoned a considerable energy that made up for what he lacked. I was glad that he tried to keep up his spirits, and while he seemed to force himself to continue to run, as if to get approval from me. From Pha That Luang to our hostel,  however, he shuffled his feet and I said, “You should get some rest.” “It’s okey,” he started to accelerate even more and thereby had muscle pains—only then did I think experience won over age.

After running, we got on the Tuk-Tuk to go to Buddha Park. We talked about the fees for getting cash from ATMs. He had researched credit cards and made a list of them, which took me aback and brought home to me his continuous effort. Having been exposed to the internet since childhood, he could have got financial knowledge no one taught in compulsory education.

When I was around his age, if I wanted to know something, I would had called or e-mailed my friends, or gone to libraries or bookstores. If I were to gain certain knowledge from my superior, I had to wait for him out of courtesy until his task was done. Those meant that I stole one’s time, and vice versa. 

Now that we can study anything to some extent by YouTube, one-clicking on Kindle Store and “googling,” I wondered if he needed to go to the university, where he could get a chance to join a Japanese large company when he would be a new graduate. He is now seeing more than a possible world I had inhabited.

We got to Nong Khai by bus from Vientiane and took a sleeper-train(from Nong Khai to Bangkok) to cross the border between Laos and Thailand. It took a long time, but I preferred to travel by train rather than by plane. Not just because it is cheap, but because it give me sufficient time for writing articles and reading books, and looking out the window, I come up with what I want to do in my life. The latter, however, requires some procedures: inspections, boarding, baggage claim and customs. In the mean time, I can not use my time effectively.

In Hua Lamphong, Bangkok Train Station, he scuttled between ATMs. The fee, he really wanted to avoid. For just two dollars. It was not until half an hour later that he gave up on it. I was a little irritated at what a wasteful time this was. It is like a housewife does store hopping, being so stingy with her money. Time is more important than money―by knowing what not to do, something else can be gained. With thirty minutes, he should glean fresh information on smartphone to cultivate himself. He lost two dollars, or rather if the process is sound, more money are likely to follow.

Frustrated at the fee, he walked towards the bus terminal, where we would part. “I’m going to Brazil for two weeks in October, my professor take us,” he muttered. “And so I need a lot of money. I’m considering renting out my room in Japan, by using Airbnb. It is a good way to make foreign friends.” “That’s awesome. You are a businessman,” I said. “It is good for you to be interested in ‘money.’ If I were you, I would do an internship overseas and learn about business. The larger the Japanese company, where seniority is valued, the slower it moves. You can take action faster than them.” 

The tiredness of the journey begun to sweep over us. As she was asleep, she tended to tilt her head toward me. Each time I thought it could touch my shoulder, suddenly it stood upright as if she felt a sense of danger, disoriented, slowly leaning on the window of the bus―I was thinking about whether her strategy or not, even though the tour conductor spoke eloquently.

On the sunny afternoon, we were walking on pathways through the woods in Jiuzhaigou National Park. She grumbled about something. “There was a Russian man in my dormitory room before. He was too bothering. He asked me out so many times.” There she goes again. I thought. That was the simple way to stimulate jealousy of a man, who might accelerate his approach to her.

“We sat on a riverbank talking about astronomy. So exhausted, physically and mentally. Because I wasn’t interested in it, much less him.” While I supposed that she just wanted a man whoever he was, I made her look good. “You are popular, don’t you? Everyone wants to talk with you.” “Not really,” she smirked and looked a little tired, a long hike, maybe. 

When Vivid color came into view, Five Flower Lake, through gap in ancient trees, she got her second wind. So intense in the center, that it shed an emerald green luster that lost its color outward―the submerged tree trunks complemented its beauty.

The route from the park to Chengdu―the tour bus stoped by the resting area. We were enjoying browsing in the souvenir shop; loitering about then looking for gifts together, maybe drifting apart. When I went out from there, I spotted her talking with a young man of another tour group. They spoke English and exchanged WhatsApp IDs. After that, they started to walk side by side around the exhibit; She had dismissed me from her mind. In some ways I felt inferior to them—I could hardly speak English and was reserved with strangers. 

I got on the bus alone and sat down in my seat. After a while, I noticed that she came back and I did not pay her any mind, but she said, “You know what? He was a Taiwanese. We exchanged contacts. I’m wondering about visiting Taiwan someday.” “That’s good,” I said, not looking at her.

During the bus trip, at times she was glued to WhatsApp, Facebook or LINE(akin to Whats APP) on her smartphone. “Guess what? I’ll show you,” she scrolled through her phone. “This is him, a gross man in Thailand.” she muttered. I took a squint at the photo of a mediocre man, who would play with her feeling. “I wish to see him, I’m thinking over when I could … .” “Tomorrow,” I suggested. “No way … ,” she grinned and I laughed, not wanting to appear annoying. “Tomorrow, I’m going to Hong Kong. I’ll leave Chengdu no later than 9 am.” “Okay, I will see you off, uh … how about the lobby in the hostel?” she said. “I wish I could get up by then … .” “No biggie, take it easy.”

The next morning, I lounged on the sofa in the lobby, but she did not show up at that time. When I got to my feet and put my backpack on, the entrance door opened. “Oh, you were awake?” She stood there without expression on her face; I went out to catch a taxi, followed by her, “Yes, I ate ramen at a stall, five yuan (about $1 in 2016), very cheep but nice.” “You have to save your money, don’t you?” “Yes, After China, I am going up to the north toward Russia, stopping briefly in Xi’an, and in Mongolia where I’m staying at the ger.” “That’s good.” I raised my hand to stop a taxi, turning to her, “I’ll be in touch with you.” “Okay,” she nodded. 

I knew that a kind of woman flitted from one man to another. Nevertheless, I was glad that there were her replies to my mail, photos of pandas in Xi’an and the ger in Mongolia attached, but soon, I lost contact with her.

Three months later I received a mail from her. “How have you been? I was able to get to Larung Gar and Yarchen Gar, a city of East Tibet―I enjoyed the hot springs and the superb view. And then, through the Silk Road, I’ll come back to Kyrgystan, then, Tajikistan … . I sent you their photo. Tajikistan was the most beautiful view ever… .”  

I opened the photo folder―what a tremendous beauty. I pressed the reply mark: “Thank you for your message and photos… .” It occurred to me that, like mediocre men in Thailand, Russia, Taiwan and more, she would be somewhere comfortable. I erased the draft.

* Larung Gar and Yarchen Gar are most likely to be closed for foreigners.

I was at a hostel in Chengdu, an inland city of China, following the procedure for the tour. I felt someone stood by me. “Could I ask where you are going?” A voice was in Japanese. Turning, I saw a young woman in black dress, carrying a huge backpack on her back. The look of her―glossy black hair, her slender figure, and strength and grace.

“Not at all,” I went on. “Tomorrow, I’m going to Jiuzhaigou. I’ve heard of the lakes, crystal blue, very beautiful.” “Oh, let me see … ,” she took her wallet and zipped. “Oh, what should I do?” she juggled her traveling expenses. “I’ll just be a second.” After some consideration, she said, “Would you mind if I joined the tour, too?” I thought to myself: “ Of course”; I disguised my feeling and said, “If you are okay with me … .” 

In the afternoon, we headed for Jinli Street, Qing Dynasty style: temple, buildings, stores and shops. “I’m K, and you are?” I said. “My name is Miki(anonymous).” She was in her mid-twenties. A fine drizzle had started to fall. We were strolling about the streets, telling each other what we had been up to. She was eager to reach Larung Gar, the community of mostly Tibetan, and had gleaned its information. 

We had coffee together at a cafe. “Do you mind if I smoke?”she asked. “Go ahead,” I said and saw her light a cigarette, needing to reevaluate the woman. “What do you think of women who smoke?” I felt that she sounded me out, as many women do. She knew I did not smoke and that I could not say I really don’t like that. Naturally, I was considerate toward her. “I don’t mind.”

The night before the tour, we sat on the stools outside the hostel, conversing and waiting for a Japanese staff who has extensive knowledge of Larung Gar. When he showed up and begun to talk about it, she was engrossed in his story―so long a talking was boring, I just pretended to catch up with them, for I did not want to leave them alone.

Huanglong, “Yellow Dragon” in Chinese mythology, was inundated by tourists, almost Chinese. To get to the main scenic spot, we took the cable car up to the top. From there we started a very long walk. As we savored the ambience of the forest, she talked about her family, her work―free-spoken―and her experience in love.

“I’ve so far had more than ten boyfriends. I was now chasing a man, since the first time I met in Thailand. He is Japanese. He and I have similar values. Music, book, food and so on, in addition, ways of thinking. One evening, we drank until morning and made love … I thought he was now waiting for me. He said, ‘Let’s be together, just the two of us.’ Though, he divorced once and had a child.”

There was something flirtatious. Why did she get involved in me, despite her having been into him? It was also typical of a shallow woman who implied how popular she was in the way she showed off a large number of guys she had been with. She would never articulate my thought quality counts, not quantity, and that she only debases herself by saying that; somehow I missed my old girlfriend—a decent woman.

I could not stop thinking of the good old days. She was not such a foolish woman. She was beautiful and had inner strength. Whenever guys would have come up to her, she would have snubbed to them. I thought if she saw me with this fast woman, she would despise me―I felt like I had fallen low. Miki kept on talking about something, but I could not hear to what it was.

Meanwhile, we were approaching the main spot. The valley―like terraced paddy fields―housed plenty of turquoise pools, so crystal clear, that I could imagine a celestial dragon waded through underwater. We started to take photos of the scenery. I took photos of her and vice versa, however, and none of us said “Let’s take a picture together.”

In the late evening, we arrived at the hotel and sat down on the chairs in the lobby. The female tour staff called my name, holding out one key to us. “No, separately,” Miki said flatly. It was natural that the staff thought we were a couple. Then the staff asked, “Why? What make you inconvenient?” “We are ‘friends’,” she stressed the word with a serious look, as if she was a decent woman. “Exactly,” I said, without looking in her direction. The staff looked curiously at us and cocked her head.