Back from China.
Having passed through the temperature gauges without being quarantined, created that golden envelop of life permitting me to experience a country radically changing.
It also permitted me to share 14 days with fellow travelers so individual, that they had difficulty interacting with one another.
Of our group of 24, eight were four couples that often traveled together. A very friendly octet, originally from Indonesia, now living in ultra conservative parts of Southern California—Nixon and Reagan counties—Republicans by geography—but politically uninvolved and uninformed. Two members of this group stand out: Hans, for his friendliness and flirtatious, but gracious ways. He loved to tell off color jokes—shocking and distancing himself and his group from the mostly ultra moral Midwestern couples on this trip, who were advanced enough to travel together without benefit of matrimony, but were aghast by 4 letter words. The other member of this group who stood out was Mary. Mary incessantly talked without saying anything, constantly commenting on whatever came to her head, unfiltered. Her husband was so quiet; that I don’t think anyone remembers his name.
Four other members of the 24 traveling together were a family from a small town in Minnesota. Mom is a pediatric nurse and Dad a successful mortician. Their friendly and personable 21 year old son, dropped out of college for a few years, and now was finding his way back by entering mortuary school to follow in his father’s footsteps. Poor kid, I sensed that he tried hard and almost got away from his roots, but was recently dragged back—however, I feel that there is still hope for him. His 17-year-old sister, on the other hand, is entering her senior high school year. She is beautiful with an Uma Thurman face and body, but would do better if she were flat chested rather than having a flat personality.
From Kansas City, Mo. came 2 young special ed teachers, Lorelei and Nancy. Adventuresome in spirit, but not in food experimentation as they searched and found fast food restaurants, malls and grocery stores to insure their caloric intake would be supplemented by Snickers, Pepsi’s and chips. They only ate the French fries that occasionally might accompany the Chinese food that we were always served.
From the East Coast of Georgia, came Jim and Joy. He, originally a Rhodes scholar taught at University and she, a vegetarian, was a nurse. They kept to themselves, barely speaking to anyone—except for the last day when we were waiting at the airport to depart for home. Joy asked, “What did you think of the hotel we stayed at in Beijing?” When we replied that it wasn’t as nice as the other hotels, her outpouring of, “How disgusting it was.” shocked us. Her diatribe against not only this last hotel, but the previous ones, complaining of remnants of cigarette smoke, and lack of other home conveniences. “Perhaps,” she explained, “It is because I don’t travel much. Jim travels more and is able to put up with all this. Maybe, I’m just pickier, but I found it disgusting, etc.” I bit my tongue, so I wouldn’t blurt out, “You think?”
Then onto the Golden Girls—straight out of Florida. There was the ringleader, Bea Arthur herself, Adele. She had traveled to China some 30 years earlier with her husband who was in the furniture business. She was the leader of “les girls.” She knew everything, and therefore they should follow what she wanted to see and do. She roomed with her friend, Barbara. Barbara was a lovely widow originally from Boston, and when Barbara could get a word in edgewise over Adele bragadociousness, you discovered that Barbara’s life was truly more interesting. The third member of this trio was Selma; you could tell she was the “tag along”. I got the impression that Adele was not too pleased that Selma was on the trip. She was also a neighbor and member of the Boynton Beach Florida Widow’s club. At 85 she was very spirited, but dotty. She had her own room and Adele included her reluctantly in what they did. Selma couldn’t keep her money straight, overpaid each vendor on the streets of China, was taken at every corner and eventually ran out of money. Those of us with extra cash would give her cash in return of her writing us personal checks.
Another Midwestern couple—Nancy and Jim. There were four Nancy’s and three Jim’s on this trip. Nancy, also from a small town in Minnesota, divorced and a special ed teacher was traveling with her long time friend Jim, an ER nurse. Early in the trip, Nancy introduced herself and her traveling partner, Jim, to me by saying, “Don’t mind Jim. He was physically abused as a child and has a vagus nerve stimulator implanted under his skin to trigger off the seizures that he is prone to.” Later I found out that a VNS is similar to a pacemaker. A vagus nerve stimulator (VNS) is a small device implanted under the skin near the collarbone. A wire (lead) under the skin connects the device to the vagus nerve in one’s neck. The doctor programs the device to produce weak electrical signals that travel along the vagus nerve to the brain at regular intervals. These signals help prevent the electrical burst in the brain that cause seizures. After it is implanted in the body, the battery-powered device can be programmed from outside the body by your doctor. You can also use a handheld magnet to turn the device on if you feel a seizure about to start, and turn it off if it is causing unpleasant side effects.
Personally, I wish his VNS jolted him more often, as there was an angry undercurrent running through his demeanor most of the time.
The final couple was Ruth and Jim from the Carolinas. She taught at a nursing school and was lovely. Jim stood out from the crowd, as his hair was recently shoe polished black. For the first week, I kept debating with myself, “Someone should tell him how awful it looks. Should it be me?” I reluctantly kept mum, deciding it was Ruth’s place to tell him and who was I to say anything, if it didn’t bother her. Jim lives with his mother and they are members of a four-piece country western band. He claimed that his music is reminiscent of Chet Atkins.
This makes up our group of twenty-four. I can’t imagine how they must be describing me. One thing I know I’ll be described as the only one in the group who could eat with chopsticks.
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