The Travels of the Black Raven

By Matthew Quaine Thompkins

Matthew, a sophomore at Humboldt State University, wants to study abroad. He currently excels in his studies, and he feels its time to leave the country. He one day runs to the study-abroad office on campus and asks if his school has a program for Japan. Unfortunately, the school has no program to go to the country, but they recommend him to a language program in China. Seeking freedom from boredom, Matthew, a young American college student, decides to embark on the trip of a lifetime to Xian. There, he has the task of learning one of the worlds most difficult languages, Mandarin Chinese. Xian, home to some of Chinas most notable dynasties, is enriched with culture and beauty. Matthews goal is to endure this language-intensive program and then flee to Japan. Before he can do this, he has to endure six months of living in Communist China. Matthew has no knowledge of China, and more importantly, he still is in the crossroad of finding his destiny. Born and raised in South Central Los Angeles, Matthew enters China innocent and unprepared. Having a history of poor academics, his goal is to discover the art of studying and learning. Matthew leaves home, unaware of the characters he will meet and the inspiration he will gain. Matthew is in for an eye-opening experience from one of the worlds greatest civilizations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493159833

Book preview

Chapter 1

ALPHA

Riiinnng, riiing, riiinnng! blared my alarm clock in the living room at Los Angeles. At 4:20 a.m., I woke up feeling not strange but extremely different. I couldn’t believe I was going to China. I’d always dreamed of going to Asia, specifically Japan. I never once thought I would go to China. I washed my face in a hurry and gathered my bags. I heard my father screaming, Son, hurry up! We were in a hurry because my flight was leaving LAX at 7:00 a.m. I was in shock and emotional that I would soon be leaving my grandparents and parents, not to mention my country. My grandmother had this surprised look of despair on her face. As I headed toward the door, I stopped to give my mother, whom I do not get along with, a last goodbye. Honestly, I really do not get along with both of my parents. My father’s taking me to the airport was not genuine; I had to beg him. I walked into the room where my mother was sleeping, and I remember her saying, Well, it’s your destiny. We hugged and that was the end. Her demeanor was very enigmatic. Moments after, I walked toward the door to say farewell to my grandmother. She is a very strong lady, and I must say, she is an inspiration to me. She had one of the saddest faces I’ve ever seen. It was at that moment I realized I was going to China.

After saying farewell to my grandmother, I looked outside our black screen door and saw my six-foot-two grandfather standing outside. He had a depressed look, but he also had a proud look in his eyes. I put my head down and hugged him so he wouldn’t see my tears. I took two steps forward to the trunk of the car; I kept my head down as I put my luggage in the trunk. I got into my father’s car and looked down at the floor mat. My legs were cramped because my father’s mammoth-sized girlfriend, who was sitting in the front passenger seat, had pushed it all the way back. It didn’t matter to me; I just did not want my grandfather to see the tears in my eyes. I’m sure my eyes were as red as a lobster’s shell at the time. I heard my father say, All right, Mr. Thomas (referring to my grandfather), we gotta get going. My grandfather said to me, You take care now. And just like that, we were off to the airport.

While driving, you could hear a grasshopper. It was very quiet, and I was very nervous. The streets of Los Angeles were as gloomy as ever. I did not know what to expect when I arrived in China, but I had hoped the streets were not as tenebrous. We arrived at the airport, and I was shocked because the terminal was completely empty. We were very early; and after gazing into the dim lights of the LAX international departures entrance, with the cold wind scraping off my cheeks, I knew then that I was about to embark on a long, long journey. We went inside, and I leaped toward the front desk to show my father my initiative and independence. I talked to the lady at the desk and told her my passport number. In the blink of an eye, I received my ticket.

Seconds later, I felt a touch on my shoulder—the touch was so sudden! The fingers on the hand felt like nails, the same nails that pinned Jesus on the cross; however, in contrast, the palm was as light as a feather, and I turned around to see who could possibly have a hand with such strength yet such grace? During that split second where the eyeballs move to the other side of the eye socket, I realized it was my father saying goodbye. I tried not to burst into tears because I wanted to show strength. I did not want him to worry about me. I walked through the security checkpoint, and off to my terminal I went. While walking to my terminal, I caught a glimpse of a flight that was heading to Tokyo. I immediately thought to myself, Will I have the chance to go there? Why am I going to China, specifically Xi’an, China? I cannot even pronounce this. Should I switch flights? No! Stick with it and go to Japan some other time.

My flight to Xi’an would have a layover in Vancouver. Coincidentally, Vancouver is my dream place to live. I am a huge hockey fan, and I’ve always dreamed of living in there. Also, Vancouver would be hosting the 2010 Winter Olympics. I walked toward my boarding gate, and I was off to China.

While on the plane, I kept thinking about Tokyo and Vancouver. Tokyo is my dream place to travel to, while Vancouver is where I would like to settle down and live forever. This flight was pretty short since it was from LAX to Vancouver. I arrived and I was quite pleased because I was no longer sentimental. As I walked in the Vancouver terminal, I thought to myself that one day I will return here to live! While walking to my terminal gate, I saw plenty of gorgeous women. I thought, Wow, I have to live here. I was also hoping to see any of the hockey teams that will be in Vancouver for the 2010 Winter Olympics. I would have given a rib to see my favorite hockey player Sidney Crosby. I sat down at the gate, and this lady with terrible, terrible English said, Air China! Air China! I walked over there, handed her my passport, and she said with a huge smile, Right this way, sir. I put on my iPod, and Lupe Fiasco’s Paris Tokyo was the melody as I entered the plane.

While entering the plane, I had to duck because I was just simply too tall. Being six foot four is not easy because the world is built for midgets. I sat down next to a Chinese woman and her son. My flight would be fourteen hours, and I was already tired from waking up so early. The flight attendant told everyone to buckle up and turn off all your electronics and then she said it in Chinese. Since I studied Chinese three months prior and got an A in the class, I thought I would be able to understand it. Unfortunately, not one word and a concern fluttered in my mind. I thought, Oh my g—.

Four hours into the flight, I was tense and extremely nervous. Of course, like every American, my imagery of China is of short, wide-faced men with fat cheeks screaming and chanting, Long live the communist regime… hahahahahaha… I imagined that my body language was very stiff and uncomfortable. I started listening to music and suddenly I started reminiscing about my life. When I listened to songs like Lil Wayne’s Tha Mobb, Lupe’s I Gotcha and Gold Watch, Pharrell’s Number One, and what I claim to be the anthem of my adventure, Twista and Pharrell’s Lavish, I started reflecting on my life. I thought about all my struggles and triumphs. I also thought about what a wonderful opportunity I have being able to go to China. I wondered, What is in store for me, and what can I become? I remember playing basketball in the United States prior to my trip, and this guy asked me, Hey, are you going to China? I answered yes, and he then said, You can be whatever you want to be. You could be Kobe, Jordan, or anything. I didn’t want to be Kobe, but his implied meaning was that I would indeed be special in China.

Six hours into the flight, I began to loosen up, and I started to look for a conversation so that I can practice my Chinese. I turned to the lady that was sitting next to me and she said, "Ni hao, which means hello. I said, Ni hao, ni hao ma? (Hello, how are you?)"

She then said, "Ni shi na guo ren? (What’s your nationality?) I said with a horrible accent, Mei guo ren, which means I’m American." After that, I can’t remember what she said because I didn’t understand it. She realized my Chinese was equivalent to a two-month-old Chinese baby (babies can’t talk at two months, but you get the point). She started speaking English, and she told me she was from Beijing. She told me that she and her son were going on vacation to Xi’an, which was also my destination. She said she was going to see the Terracotta Warriors and other attractions.

We talked for about a solid hour, and her son showed me his little comic book of Donald Duck and other Disney characters. Seeing Donald Duck and other Disney characters expressing Chinese characters was very amusing. I was amazed that the boy was very open and not scared to converse with a tall dark-skinned young Afro man, also the woman as well. These two left a warm and understanding impression on me. As the boy and his mom dozed off, I also was feeling a bit tired. While they were asleep, I thought to myself, I just might be okay. Little did I know what was in store for me upon my arrival.

Chapter 2

WHY CHINA!

Attention please, we are now landing in Xi’an, China. Thank you for flying Air China, and I hope you choose us again. This is what I heard from the telecom on the plane. I got up, and the woman and her son told me, "Thanks, ren shi ni hen gaoxing, which, I guess, meant It was nice to meet you. They also said in English, Enjoy your stay in China. I replied in English, Thanks, and it was nice to meet you." I got off the plane and began to walk toward the baggage claim area.

Before I go into any more detail, I want to first explain my reason for going to China. One of my goals when I entered college was to study abroad. I wanted to go to Finland for hockey or Japan because I was fascinated by the culture (samurais!). Unfortunately, Finland did not offer my major, which was international business. To make matters worse, my school did not have a program to study abroad in Japan. I am a Humboldt State University student, and for those who know the area, describing the place as arid is an understatement. It is understandable why someone would want to leave. During my fall semester sophomore year, I went to the study-abroad office and bugged them every day. The advisor told me that I could go to England and study business. Of course, it sounded great, but I wasn’t too excited about going to a country with such an oppressive history. With England as my only option, I thought just maybe I would end up going.

But one day, one of the students in my Chinese level 1 class and who will be a classmate of mine in China, named Jean Grey, had a proposal. This is not her actual name, but since she has red hair and an edgy character, I gave her this nickname because she reminded me of the X-men character Jean Grey. One day, she burst into my Chinese level 1 class and said, I have an announcement. She gazed at the professor with great intent, and the professor, of course, allowed her to inform us. She said, All right, the Chinese Studies Department has a program in Xi’an, China, which is a language intensive program for Mandarin. Unfortunately, they are thinking about not doing it because there are not enough people interested. The program director told me if I can get five people that can go, then the program is a go. It’s for the spring semester, and if you’re serious about learning Mandarin, then this can be a great opportunity.

I thought to myself this can really be a good opportunity because I can sneak to Japan, also the fact that it will be cheaper than a semester at Humboldt, and England is very expensive and culturally similar to America. Another determining factor for me is how easy it was to enter the program. We were not required to write an essay, it was affordable, and I would be close to Japan. I planned a scheme to actually, figuratively speaking, cross the street to go see Tokyo. Since I took Chinese level 1 and received an A in the class, I thought to myself, Well, China, hmmm, the movie Rush Hour, food, orange chicken, the Great Wall, temples, and it’s close to Japan . . . why not! I talked to Jean Grey and said, Count me in. Seconds later, my friend Henry who was a buddy of mine in the dorms said he would like to go as well. We both wanted to get out of Humboldt. I felt more comfortable that he was going because he is also from Southern Los Angeles. So it was set, but I never considered the language. I thought that because I had an A in the class, I was good in Chinese. I remember my mom saying, You should study Chinese before your departure while you sit here during your break. I had said, I know, I know Chinese. I mean, I got an A in the class, what’s the worst that can happen? Foolish and arrogant as I was, little did I know what hell was in store for me.

Hey You!

I walked out of the plane and headed toward the baggage claim area. I picked up my luggage and began to walk toward the entrance. Before going to China, my school informed me that when I arrive, someone would be there to pick me up. I would like to write about what happened. When I arrived at the front gate, this Chinese man said, Hey you! You! Come! He did not say this in English, but I imagined this to be what he meant. I was a little fatigued because I just got off a fourteen-hour plane ride and I didn’t have enough sleep, and because I’m six foot four, the seats were uncomfortable because I had no leg room. Although I was tired, I was somewhat excited and very anxious to start my adventure. Not thinking clearly, I decided to go along with the man. My logic told me that the program must have told this man that when he sees a tall Afro (black American) young man around his teens (nineteen), that’s him. Me thinking this was reasonable… right?

I followed the guy, and he took my bags. Later, I realized I had a sign that this wasn’t the right guy when the guy and I took the elevator down to the vehicle area and there was this lady in the elevator that had a big grin on her face. I saw her badge that said she was a taxi driver. She spoke to the guy, and the guy had a smile as wide as an obese child. At the time I saw the badge, I did not think anything of it because when the brain is tired, hungry, or anxious, it can’t think clearly. We walked to the car, and I noticed that it was a taxi. Now I know what you guys are thinking: WRONG ONE, DUH! But like I said, my conditions at the time clouded my judgment. Oh yeah and by the way, I now learned that when a person is tired, they should just go to a rest spot and just think. However, little did I know, I was using Chinese philosophy: I was going with the flow and being like water. Weary as I was, I went along with the man, and this is when the adventure began.

I got into the car, and the guy took my luggage and put it in the trunk. I sat with my travel bag in the front seat. I looked around the car and noticed that my driver had a friend sitting in the backseat. The driver smiled at me and started the engine of the car. Zooommm! We were off, and I looked back at the airport and said, See you soon, I guess. Fifteen seconds into motion, I was completely shocked at how they drive in China. In America, we have a stereotype that Chinese people cannot drive. My thoughts…

The driving in China was like Need for Speed, a famous racing video game. He drove through traffic as if it were a video game or a movie. I was dumbfounded because the taxi was at a speed around eighty miles per hour. After gripping the seatbelt like a kid’s grip on a lollipop, twenty minutes passed by, and I handed him my acceptance letter to show him the address. I saw him look at the letter. He had a confused look on his face, and I thought at that moment, If he is the driver, why is it taking him so long to read this address? He then handed the paper back to me. Around two minutes later, due to jetlag, I dozed off without a care in the world.

I woke up fifty-three minutes later thinking, Oh shit! What’s going on! I turned to the guy and said in English, Almost there? Unfortunately, he didn’t understand me, so I looked out of the window to calm the shock. Outside of the window, I saw broken-down apartment complexes, wires, and what looked like the boondocks. I immediately thought to myself with a sense of urgency, What the hell was I thinking coming to China? Biggest mistake of my life, I should have stayed in Humboldt. What the hell was I thinking? I was pissed off for fifteen seconds then turned to the guy, and with a strong bass in my voice, I said in English, Do you know where we are going? He replied by NODDING his head. I thought to myself, What a dummy I was thinking I can come to China, pass all my Chinese classes, and then go to Japan. What the hell was I thinking? Stupid, foolish, now I got to pay for it.

Chu chu chu, errrrrrr. The car suddenly stopped, and both guys got out of the car. The driver looked at me and pointed at his hand and said, Wait. I assumed this was his meaning. The other guy reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, and I guess they were trying to get directions. As I waited in the car, I thought to myself, Well, what the heck is going on? Urgency was starting to enter my bones, but then a voice in my head said, Not now, keep your cool. Watch how things play out. I know I’m tired but I have to be alert. Otherwise I can get worked and no one will know what happened to me. The guys returned to the car, and they nodded with certainty as if they knew where to go. So I thought that maybe these guys weren’t that bad.

So we were on the road again and I realized something—the driver was, it seemed, to be taking the long way. Now it’s 3:45 a.m., and there is traffic but not a lot. I believe we could have arrived at the school much sooner. I said to myself, Aww, what the hell, this is weak! Moments after, I heard the guy in the backseat yelling at the driver. The guy thought I was asleep, and they did not know I was awake. It sounded as if the guy in the backseat wanted the driver to do something. I opened my eyes and saw suspicion on the driver’s face. I told him with anger in my voice, Are we there yet? He nodded. I dozed off again. About fifteen minutes later, he said in terrible English, Mmm… oo… monnn… money! I said with a sudden surprise and hostility in my voice, How much! And then I looked around to check the one thing I forgot to check in the beginning—the meter! With shock, I saw there was no meter! Also, I didn’t exchange money because I thought someone was going to pick me up then take me to the school and that the next day everything would get sorted out.

The driver said in terrible English, Three hundred. I replied in a thunderous tone, "What! Ren min bi! (Chinese currency!) He said in horrible English, DOOLLARRS."

I told him with animosity, Get the hell outta here! That’s crazy! Now drive to this thing to the school and stop fooling around! He looked at me and then he looked at the guy in the back, and he nodded. I dozed off again and when I woke up…

Chapter 3

THE RUSSIAN AND THE RAVEN

Whispering, whispering, I heard slick Mandarin. I opened my eyes to find myself in an alley with the driver staring at me with a frown. We were in the car, and in front of us was a black van. He told me in English, Three hundred. THREE ZERO ZERO. I balled up my fist, looked at him, and contemplated whether or not I should punch the man. Wisdom saved me from temptation as I considered any possible dangers in the van. The van was risky, and I did not know who or what was inside. After carefully observing my predicament, I told the man with anger, enmity, and passiveness, "Hao. (Okay.)"

Realizing that I had agreed to his terms, the driver went from being ominous to auspicious. He felt as though he was going to hit the jackpot. He drove off, and I looked outside the window. I stared at the invisible clouds of the cold night, fighting back tears of rage. I said to God, God . . . why? Why not Japan or Finland, why China? Please God, get me out of this predicament. After a few minutes, I calmed down, and I tried to think of solutions on how I could not pay this asshole $300. I took a peek at the driver through the rearview mirror and then glanced at the driver’s partner in crime. I noticed that both of them had smirks on their faces. The ride was very stiff and tense, and because of this, I became wide awake and I was getting close to figuring out a solution.

I again thought about the $300, and I suddenly remembered that prior to my trip, my father had advised me to get $250 worth of traveler’s checks. I had a total of five checks, each worth $50, and hope was beginning to sprout inside. I knew that these checks would probably be my only chance of paying anything less. I looked out of the window again, and I saw civilization. I saw high-rise buildings, along with stores, apartments, and lights. The wicked clouds were passing away. The time was 4:20 a.m., and I was getting closer to my lucky number 5. I was awake and determined to beat this criminal. I knew there was a possibility to outhustle him; after all, I am from South Central Los Angeles, and we invented hustling.

We arrived at a place I figured to be our destination because when we stopped, he had a smile on his face and he was jubilant. He was ready to take $300 from an innocent traveler like myself. When we stopped, I gave myself ten seconds to finalize my plan. I guessed that if I could use one of the traveler’s checks, which is worth $50, I can use the signature line to sign and write $300. I could trick him into believing that he is receiving a $300 check. I thought this could work because I knew for certain that he cannot read my English signature and he probably doesn’t know what it means. I then thought that since he doesn’t know what signature in this case means, I knew I did not have to sign it. After deliberating for the short seconds I gave myself, I decided not to sign it and wrote $300 on the $50 check. He received the check, and as if he had inherited a million dollars, he turned to his partner in crime and laughed. He held the check in the air and said to me, "Xie xie. (Thank you.)"

I got out of the car, and he handed me my luggage. I asked him in English, Where is the school? He pointed his finger at a direction behind me. I turned toward that direction, and in the blink of an eye, he left and that crook could continue life without receiving his proper punishment. After he left, I walked toward the direction he pointed. I walked and walked, and suddenly a Chinese girl appeared. It was 4:43 a.m., and the streets were foggy and gloomy. The girl surprisingly said to me in English, Hey, hey!

I responded, "Hey, ni hao."

She started speaking Chinese, but then she realized that I didn’t understand a single word. When we both discovered that there was a language barrier between us, I looked up in the heavens and felt as if I was running in a tunnel and saw a light for a second but then the light faded back into the darkness. My hope was cast away. However, she didn’t lose faith; she tried to speak English. My three-minute-old Chinese baby Mandarin along with her terrible Loch Ness Chinese accent was indeed a recipe for disaster. I showed her my acceptance letter and told her slowly but loudly while using my index figure to point at the Chinese name of my school, I want to go here.

She nodded and said, "Foll-follow mee-me.’’

I went along, carrying my heavy luggage and staggering like a drunken old man. While walking, I looked behind my shoulder and saw that we had a follower. It was a homeless dirty Chinese elder woman carrying a huge bag. Her bag looked like one of those big rice bags I have 1seen in rural areas depicted in the Chinese movies about rural areas. I looked in the heavens and said to myself, Really? You bring me all the way to China for this? Wow!

Moments later, the girl said to me, The school is closed, no gate.

Out of frustration and calamity, I said, Okay, what the hell do we do?

Suddenly at that moment, I realized that my program promised me housing. I was supposed to have a place to stay; after all, I did get accepted to this university, and this university is affiliated with my school. I asked her slowly, Hey, DORM, DORMITORY, where is it?

She said, Only Chinese live, we go hotel.

The girl, and I assume her relative or mother, helped me with my bags; and suspicious as I was and given the night I was having, I wondered, What is giving them the incentive to do this? Is it for money or what?

I wanted to be alert and to not get caught off guard again tonight and for the rest of the time I am in this godforsaken country. So the two ladies helped drag my big vibrant-red luggage, which had no roller wheels, and I carried my huge travel backpack. We walked about a block and went around the school to what could be my future living accommodation for my time in China. It was a campus two-star hotel, which was considered the foreign dormitory. When I entered the hotel, or should I say motel, I saw hospital dim lights with black couches on the left side, a couple of black chairs or couches on the right, a cheap supposedly ancient Chinese vase in the middle, and a worn-out counter where the receptionist stood behind. As I walked toward the counter, this one guy walked into the lobby. His name was Demon (pronounced Di-mon). Out of all nationalities, I never thought I would receive help from a Russian. Before he came, I went to the front desk and handed them my acceptance letter. They spoke superfast Chinese, and the two ladies tried their best to tell them my situation. But it didn’t work, I guess. So Demon walked over and said with a stereotypical Russian accent, Is there a problem?

With humility, I told him, Look, I’m from America and I am doing this study-abroad program in Xi’an. I got accepted to this school’s program, and EVERYTHING is paid for. I know for a fact.

Demon said, Oh well, I’ll tell them. Demon began to speak swift Mandarin to the receptionist at the desk. I was amazed at the speed of Mandarin; it was the fastest language I have ever heard in my life. The speed of Mandarin would even humble Spanish. Demon went on with his thick Russian accent and said, Uhh, they said they don’t know what you are talking about, but they agreed that you can stay the night or two with me until you get things finalized.

I thanked Demon, and I was pleased I had a place to stay, even if it was with a Russian.

The two ladies who accompanied me to the school and I followed Demon upstairs to his room. When I saw a bed, my heart sang! Looking at the bed with napkin-white sheets was just wonderful. I thought of all those Tide and Bounty commercials where the beds look so welcoming and warm. We dropped my luggage down, and Demon and I both turned around and looked at the ladies. I told them in English, Thanks, thanks.

I looked in my wallet to see if I had cash, but I just had traveler’s checks, and $50 in China goes a long way. My intent was to pay the women for helping me because without them, I would have probably stood out in the cold in front of the school. The ladies didn’t mind, but they then spoke Mandarin with Demon. The mood of the women changed drastically, and their faces turned somber. One of the receptionists came up while they were leaving. It seemed as if the worker wanted to make sure the ladies weren’t spending the night. I was distraught, and I didn’t know that the ladies simply wanted a place for shelter. I felt so asinine and selfish for not understanding their situation. After realizing this and experiencing how hard communication in China was, it was evident that China was going to be tough.

Demon and I both sat down on our respective beds. I thanked him, and he abruptly said, So why you want to learn Chinese?

I replied, I don’t know, I just simply wanted to get out of my country. I took Chinese level 1 and got an A in the class.

He laughed, stopped, then laughed again. Demon, for a Russian, had a hedonistic, innocent, and silly, but set-serious demeanor. I wasn’t offended by his laughter, but instead, I understood why he laughed. He probably saw many people like me during his time in China. I asked him, What about you? I’ve spoken Chinese here and they don’t understand me. Chinese seems tough.

Demon laughed and said, I’ve been studying Chinese for about ten years, and I’m still not fluent.

Hearing Demon say this, I felt as if the world was coming down on my head.

He said, I wish you luck. By the way, where are you from?

I told him, Los Angeles.

He then told me that where he is from, there are not a lot of black guys. I laughed and then asked him if he liked hockey because I am a huge hockey fan and Russia has a lot of teams and great players. He told me he played, but he didn’t like it that much. We then conversed about the weather in Xi’an and the Chinese people. He gave me tips about learning Chinese, and we talked about other things I can’t remember. After our conversation, I walked to the bathroom and noticed a shower curtain and a big red bucket. I didn’t understand what the purpose of the red bucket was, and to be honest, I hope it did not have anything to do with the shower. Strange as this was, I knew I was in a foreign country. I turned and looked at the mirror and told myself, This was one dumb-ass decision. I shook my head and then said to my reflection, Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb!

I washed my face and walked back toward the bed. When I sat down, he told me that tomorrow, he plans to show me around the city and take me to the bank. I complimented him on his kindness, but after my experience on my first day, I was questioning whether or not I should trust people. I didn’t know if I could trust Demon, but he seemed okay, even though his name spelled is wicked. He turned off the lights and went to sleep. I put on my pajamas and lay down on my bed. I started staring at the cadaverous wall above me and thought, Wow, What a day . . . I gotta make the best out of this. If I go back empty-handed, people will say, "See, I told you so . . . I told you that China would be a mistake." I also said to myself, For now, go with the flow, and in the morning we will figure things out. I think you can trust this Russian. After all, he is skinny and not bald. I lay on my bed wondering what China has in store for me. After an hour, I finally dozed off to sleep.

Riiinnnggg! was the sound of Demon’s alarm. He rushed into the bathroom and told me that he would be back in an hour. While in slumber, I told Demon with the scratchiest voice, Okaaayyyy.

Thirty minutes later, I woke up and I was surprised because I actually was filled with energy. I was jetlagged and was still used to Pacific standard time in Los Angeles. I went into the shower and turned on the hot water. For a moment, I forgot I wasn’t in America; I was in Xi’an, China. When I turned the knob, cold water burst onto my back. I immediately jumped out of the shower and waited for fifteen seconds. I stood by the door naked and then went into the barely warm water. I thought about China and said to myself, Well, they have to ration—after all, there is a billion people here.

The hot water from the shower was not warm enough for me, but when I turned the water on from the sink, it was boiling hot. I turned and looked at the red bucket, and at that moment, I learned the purpose of the bucket. I unfortunately had to fill the bucket with hot water and then pour it on my back. I did this, and I felt as if I was in a third world country. I did this a multiple of times; and when I was done with the primitive shower process, I dried myself, put my clothes on, and turned on the sink to brush my teeth. I then immediately realized that I was in China, so I dropped my toothbrush and grabbed my water bottle so I can brush my teeth. I did not want to start my journey in China fighting against typhoid in a hospital. After I was ready, Demon came back and said with a thick Russian accent, Hey, you’re ready, we will go now. I’ll take you to the bank and we will get something to eat. I agreed and the raven flew—China and my adventure were about to begin.

Chapter 4

WHAT IS THIS LAND?

Today, Demon, along with two Polish guys, took me around town to show me the bank in Xi’an. While we were at the bank, I was worried whether or not I could trust them because after my experience last night, my faith in people has been severely challenged. I wondered whether or not they were after my money. I thought to myself, What would these guys give the incentive to do all of this? Is it because I’m American and they feel lucky to hang out with me? Are they after my money? Are they homosexual or what?

I had these negative thoughts because where I come from, guys don’t do this. Guys do not collectively volunteer to chauffer one guy around unless it is for their benefit. These were all the crazy thoughts that were going through my head, but in the end, they were genuinely nice men. They were innocent and simply friendly. I appreciated their help since I was not receiving it from my university here and back home. My school, Humboldt State University, was supposed to arrange for someone to pick me up from the airport and take me to accommodation. Since this did not happen, meeting these guys turned out to be my luck.

After we went to the bank, we had lunch at a Muslim restaurant near the school. I was shocked because before going to China, I wasn’t aware of the significant Muslim influence. The restaurant specialized in Italian-style noodles, which I learned actually originated in China. The noodles were spicy, but very tasty. I was greedy and ate what was in my entire plate in seconds. I foolishly did not think of my immune system, so I had the runs. I told Demon, I need to go to the restroom. There is no restroom inside this restaurant. I need to head back to the room on campus.

He and his friends laughed as if they were aware of my problem. Demon replied, Sure, no problem, pal.

He gave me his key, and I left the restaurant to go on my first walk in China. As I went through the main gate of the school, I saw a tall pole with a waving Chinese flag. For the first time in my life, I observed the flag of China. I gazed at the red flag with four yellow stars lined in an arc on the left-hand side, along with a big yellow star to fill the void in the arc. In my opinion, the flag really was an illustration of the Communist period in China. I think red and yellow are typical propaganda colors. Although red can be used as a cheery and jubilant color, red can also depict blood and terror. Like red, yellow is another color of contradiction. Yellow could be used to convey a message of peace or nature; on the contrary, yellow could be used to exaggerate images, like a person having horrid yellow teeth or skin. You can depict a person having yellow eyes that would make that person have creaturelike properties. While looking at the Chinese flag, I saw duality; and from my experiences thus far, I figured that my time in China may have its seesaws.

In addition to the Chinese flag, the environment also had a unique impression on me. The air, people, and buildings all seemed as if they were taken out of a page of the Communist chapters of my high school world history textbook. China seems so dusty and unembellished. I still felt as if I was truly in a different world. From the food to the people, the building designs to the insects, the windy breeze, and to the narrow-eyed people, everything was different. The campus had a Trotsky-past Soviet Union feel to it. Besides the red Chinese flag, I also saw small statues of figure heads of what looked to be Old Russian scholars. It was evident to see that Russia and China are border brothers like Canada is to the United States. I thought to myself that Russia and China might still have a strong relationship.

It was February 18, and I barely missed the winter here in China. While I was walking back to the room, I saw the trees deprived of their leaves due to what must have been a harsh winter. I returned to my motel on campus emotionally drained and jetlagged. Step by step with a turtle’s pace, I arrived inside the motel. The two ladies at the desk gave me a spurious smile, and I turned right to walk up the stairs. I arrived on the fourth floor, staggering sick through the brown-colored hallway seeking my white-sheet bed. I didn’t pay attention to my room number. I just knew by memory, and to be honest, I was very tired and still in shock. When I entered the room, I did the classical jump and landed on my bed. I stared at the ceiling, which was just a simple white wall, but the wall’s simplicity was what I needed to return to normal. I said to myself, Where am I, why the hell am I here? What is this place? I don’t know any Chinese history nor can I speak or write Mandarin Chinese. What the heck was I thinking?

Five minutes or so after, I perked off the bed and went into the restroom. I unleashed the noodles I just ate and said to myself while squatting, I got to make the best out of this. Otherwise, it would be a waste of time and money.

I also thought that if I didn’t take advantage of this opportunity, my family would think that I’m just fooling around in school. More importantly, I never was the type to lie over and give up. I have to adapt like I’ve been doing my entire life and just learn whatever is necessary to win. My time in the restroom was motivating, and I opened the door to see Demon standing by the table near his bed.

Demon returned and said in his patented Russian accent, Hey, pal, how are you doing?

I replied, Fine, I’m going to take a walk and soak up the fact that I’m in China.

I was sure he did not comprehend my entire sentence, but he understood what I meant. I left the room and walked outside of campus. I was thinking that with every college, there is a lively college town. I walked across the street of campus, and for a split second, it felt as if I was in a world that contained a billion insect tribal warriors. I saw a sea of people that from the nose up had the same face. I crossed the street, and after counting the many vehicles passing through and the many people walking by, I thought to myself, Wow! This is China! China, the country of great history and home to many of the world’s greatest civilizations . . . So why is there such a large informal sector?

China’s heart

When I arrived on the other side of the street, I saw many vendors on the road. They were selling food that I had never seen before. The food was exotic and did not look healthy or tasty. Instead of taking my chances on the vendor, I decided that for my time in China, I will eat at restaurants until my immune system increases. I kept walking straight on the road across the street from my university, and that’s when I stumbled across my first traditional Chinese medicine pharmacy. I went inside the bright green store, and I tried to ask them if they had medicine for stomach pain. My stomach wasn’t hurting at the time because I already had Cipro, which is a medication that relieves stomach pain, but I wanted to check if the store had Cipro. Just in case I have more stomach issues like today, I wanted to find a store that has this medication. I also wanted to verify if people in the town spoke English. I told the pharmacist in English at the counter, Do you have Cipro, or do you have any medication that helps with stomach pain?

In addition to speaking English clearly, I used gestures to illustrate a hurt stomach. The tall beige-skinned woman replied, Nononnononnon hahahahaah. I thanked the lady and left the store. Walking out, I screamed, I am doomed! I felt that communication in China was going to be impossible. I continued walking on the road and started to feel hungry again. I saw this lady who was dressed like a shaman, cooking what appeared to be a hamburger bun. I rushed over and asked the lady in English, What is that? The tasty-looking bun was sizzling in a hot bowl-shaped frying instrument that was filled with popping grease. She did not understand me, but judging by her gestures and her smiling face, I knew she saw me as a potential customer. I wanted to be open-minded and so I bought the greasy bun. I took one bite of the bun, and my taste buds shot like a comet. The bun was very crispy, and the surface was smooth. The brown flaky circular-shaped bun gave my taste buds a nostalgic feeling. For four seconds, I was home. I’m not sure if that was a good thing or not, given the current obesity problem in America, but I would say those four seconds or so was what I needed to snap back into reality. I was reminded of what it means to be American, having an outlaw spirit, being a pioneer, and being courageous. I wanted to represent the home of the brave. Eating the bun cured my jetlag and fatigue; I was restored. I turned to the lady and paid her an equivalent of twenty cents and was off to return to my room.

I returned to my room for some hours and at nightfall, and I realized one big problem—I did not have water. I did not think about it because today I bought water bottles and was drinking that all day. Demon was not in the room, and I did not have a water boiler. I rushed downstairs to ask the receptionist how I can find fresh drinking water, but there was one problem—I cannot speak Chinese. I went outside to find someone who could translate, and that’s when I found an American. I asked the wide elder fellow, Are you from America?

The guy replied, No, I am from Canada.

I said, Oh sorry, um, I just arrived in China and I am completely tired and confused. I do not know where I can get water and I don’t speak Chinese.

The man said, Oh well, that’s a problem. Come inside, I will get you a jug.

I walked inside the man’s apartment. He lived across the motel, and the interior of the apartment was better conditioned than mine. His wife was standing in the kitchen while we walked in. She was a fair-skinned lady with thick glasses. They were an old couple, and they told me that they have been traveling the world teaching English. I have never heard of a trade like theirs, and I asked them a million questions about it. They were delighted to tell me all their stories while I sat there hydrating on their couch. The water was like champagne as I sat there drinking cup after cup. I asked the man, How is China?

He said, Oh, is this your first time? Oh, you are going to love it! It is a beautiful country. You will encounter some difficulties, but you are young, eh, you got it.

I thanked the man for the kind words and left the apartment with a jug of water. While walking back to my motel, I knew inside that China might become my ultimate test.

Chapter 5

CHANGE OF PLANS

I walked back to the motel in order to return and talk to Demon and rest up. When I walked in the motel, I saw three foreigners, and they were all girls. I observed all three of them in three and a half seconds. One was from Spain, one was from South Korea, and I could not determine the third one. Since I am from Los Angeles and there are a lot of Korean people, I was able to recognize the girl as Korean because of her vintage wide face, coal-black hair, and maternal nature. I was able to guess that the other girl was from Spain because of her pale skin, black curly hair, and if you look carefully enough, her mustache. The third girl I was not able to guess her nationality because she was Asian who spoke English. When I heard her speak, her accent was not standard American or British English, so I had no clue to where she was from.

As I was entering the motel and they were leaving, I glanced at them, and all three smiled. Curious we all were, the Spanish girl was the icebreaker. The brave soul said, Hello!

I replied in that classical upbeat cowboy manner, which also requires a big smile with the person’s body leaning to one side and having a strong rising voice. Hiii, you are from Spain, I see.

The three girls in motion stopped, and the courageous Spanish girl said, Where are you from?

I replied with that outlaw personality, I am from America, specifically Los Angeles. I looked at the other two girls and asked them, Where are you two from?

At that moment, I understood why the Spanish girl was the only one speaking—she had the best English. Although the Asian girl, whom I heard spoke English, could converse, she probably could not understand English. Not just English in case you all are wondering. I come from a very classy family, and we all speak standard American English. Although I grew up in the ghetto, the dialect there did not become my primary way of communicating. However, I sometimes have the tendency to speak a little fast; but overall, if people were to close their eyes, I’m sure no one could detect that I am an ethnic American, which most people believe that all ethnic Americans cannot speak English properly. (Also on a side note, I consider myself an ethnic American to pay respect to the indigenous Indians who were the original owners of my homeland.) The Spanish girl answered for the South Korean girl and told me her nationality. The Asian girl, realizing the topic of discussion, abruptly told me with an attitude of great sophistication and pride, I am… from Switzerland. I looked at her with owl’s eyes and just simply stared for three seconds without a single thought in my head. With enthusiasm and what I suspected to be intimate curiosity, the Spanish girl asked me, What’s your name, and are you a student at this university?

I told them that my name was Matthew and that I was a student and that I live also live in the motel/dormitory. The girl from Spain and Korea both had a flattered and desperate look on their faces. I thought to myself that the male student body here must not fit the bill for these ladies. I thought to myself that I could possibly save all the women here from despair. After our fifteen-second conversation, the ladies were on their way and I felt real good, not because I had the looks or anything, but simply that socializing made me feel like myself. While watching the backside of these women as they were exiting, something miraculous happened.

An, . . . An? said I.

Matthew! When did you arrive in China?

I replied, Yesterday, how about you?

An told me, I’ve been here since the first of February!

We spoke to each other as if we were siblings that had been separated for twenty years. I think the reason behind this was because I was so desperate to find someone who could give me information on the program and, frankly, get me organized. I’m sure An had been surrounded by nothing but Chinese people, and it’s refreshing for her to see another person in the program. I was very happy to find a classmate—aww, relieved was I. But using sapience, I had to ask An some serious questions about the program, and I also had to tell her about what hell I had been through in the last thirty hours or so. First I asked her, Why hasn’t our school organized our living situation?

She answered, I don’t now… Our program director Miguel, it’s his mistake. Miguel manages our program.

I told her that evidently Miguel is not doing such a good job or the people in China aren’t, or someone is messing up. I also told her, Right now, I am living with a Russian guy named Demon. So is he supposed to be my roommate? It was completely random how I stayed with him. I told her the whole story, and in addition, I told her that I had one more night to stay with him until I resolve my situation. While finishing up my sob story, she politely interrupted me and said, Tomorrow, you are moving out, you are going to a hostel.

Stunned, I said, A… a… hostel? I had no idea of what a hostel was. To me, it sounded like a hotel from hell. I was completely bummed. I told her with upmost modesty and concern, Will I be alone?

An replied, No, you will be with Henry and Ben. I was very excited that I was going to meet with two of my other classmates. I felt really good because I knew Henry since my freshman year in college, and Ben seemed to be a fun guy. I liked Demon and was grateful for his help, but I was eager to get this program started and I was also eager to be around people who could understand me! To make things even better, An also told me that Henry and Ben are also currently staying in the motel. An said, I’ll take you to their room.

I said with great joy, nodding my head, Okaayyy. We walked upstairs, and there they were. I was so happy to see Henry and Ben. When I first saw Henry, it