April 2, 2012: Rural Central Mainland China. Coach, on the bullet train, is a "three-aisle-two" seating arrangement. Raymond and I had aisle seats across from each other. We did not talk much on the train because I was using the spare travel time to catch up on listening to music and reading. I was reading Poor Boy, the 'definitive' biography of Keith Moon, drummer for the Who (review in 20 words or less: interesting, but repetitive; how many times can you read about Moon flooding hotels and mixing and matching drugs).
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Views of Rural Central China From the Bullet Train
A young man and woman had the window and middle seats next to my aisle seat. When I was 100 lbs heavier, I would have probably felt self-conscious about my bulk annoying the man in the middle seat. It would have especially made me feel bad because I was probably the first American this couple ever came into direct contact with and I didn’t want to be known as the fat American that made their bullet train ride miserable. But, I worry about that much less now.
When flying and I have an aisle seat and my middle or window seat mates want to get up, I use that time to get up myself and walk around to keep the blood flowing and check out what is going on. OK, yes, I mean people watch...OK, yes, I mean lady watch...
People Watching on the Bullet Train
I then stand around my seat until they return. This usually makes the aisle and seat folks happy because they do not have to climb over me or ask me to stand again.
I must have made a good impression on the man sitting next to me. As he and his girlfriend went to get some food from the cafeteria car, he asked me if I wanted anything to eat. He did not speak any English but made what I now call the "international sign" of “are you hungry?”; miming holding a dish up to his mouth and eating from the dish. I tried to say no thank you" (búyào xièxiè)" in Mandarin. I don't know whether he understood anything other than my thankful smile.
I was very impressed with this man’s random act of international friendship. As a matter of fact, despite my usual anti-social polarity, on this Asia trip I was a magnet attracting random acts of international friendship.
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The first act of international friendship was at the Wuhan Hu Bu Xiang night market where a food vendor was singing at me in Mandarin. I smiled and played along by pleasantly giving him a ‘Nǐ Hǎo’ ('hello'), smile, and friendly wave as I tried to evacuate myself from the situation.
Entrance to Wuhan Hu Bu Xiang night market
The second act of international friendship was the next day at the “market” of the Yellow Crane Temple. It is a market in which every shop has generally the same souvenirs. Here, some random middle-aged man, as he walked passed me, rubbed my stomach, and said something in Mandarin that I will never know since Raymond wasn’t around to hear and translate for me. The man was smiling so I presume he was thinking I would bring him Buddha-like good luck. I gave him a ‘Nǐ Hǎo’ and a wave, not knowing whether I was being insulted or honored.
Yellow Crane Tower Market
Then, finally, there was the final incident on the bullet train.
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