The week that was, began when I was woken by an incoming text message to my girlfriends phone, while she still lay sleeping. The message from a friend of hers relayed the news that we should be careful of fellow bus passengers armed with needles, needles that carry a deadly strain of some unpleasant and potentially life threatening virus. The post-conversation, with my then awoken girlfriend, turned to talk of safety, bomb threats, Xin Jiang people, H1N1 flu and the general worries of modern life in China.
It was too much for me, I got up, went for breakfast at the Xin Jiang restaurant down stairs, took a rush hour bus into town and then took one straight back, attempted to hurdle the fence into the quarantined Art School, though failing due to a somewhat large security cordon, rather than any lack of hurdling prowess on my part. I then returned home to begin my week as if nothing had happened by going to work.
Ok, I didn’t do any of the above but for quite different reasons. I didn’t eat at the Xin Jiang restaurant because that is something never done, a matter of principal rather than taste, based on the fact that the pick pockets on my street are all from the Xin Jiang community and well known by the restauranters. (For those that may worry about the racism in such a statement, there is none to be found, it is based on 3 years of living on Yang Jia Cun and observing the proficiency they have in their chosen field). Secondly, I didn’t take the buses as it was most unnecessary at such an unearthly hour, though later in the week I did. Thirdly, I didn’t hurdle the Art School gate but did discover later in the week that the Art School had been quarantined and consequently the Art School Café closed. At which point, a friend and I headed back to Sculpting in Time Cafe, where we were greeted by a local friend of mine telling us to be careful, as there were people on buses carrying deadly needles dipped in poison. The week seemed to be ending as it had begun.
As it was, the rain also continued falling most of the week but by the week end my girlfriend and I found ourselves in the pleasant garden surrounds of Qing Long Temple and not beneath the dark urban skies of down town Xi’an. Gardens in the rain are always calming peaceful places, they are even more so in China when the usual masses refuse to go out.
With the issues of the week still circling in my head I did comment, as we rode the 19 bus from Shi Da University to the temple, that there didn’t seem many people on the bus. My girlfriend pointed out however, in her matter-of-obvious fact manner, that it is the weekend (stupid!) and no matter where you are and what’s going on, people don’t rush out of bed and onto the buses at the weekend, especially when it’s raining. The old 221 back to the Bell Tower was reassuringly packed. All well there then.
Tags: Xi'an
The images were taken in Kashgar - they link to the China News Page.
Sep. 7th. Resentment Simmers in Western Chinese Region – in The New York Times
Social Networking in Xi'an
秦始皇
西安
