Today I realized a blog entry that was supposed to exist for the past year never existed at all. Though the entry and story may be just as old, the thoughts and feelings live just as strong as when they first originated. So tonight I will rewrite it from memory…
In the summer of 2009, I went to China and had experienced what some might consider fate. Fate isn’t something most people believe in until they’ve experienced it. How can you believe in something that happens to everyone, day after day, to the billions of people? Everything is basically coincidence, is it not? I don’t know, and I’m not even sure if fate allowed me to even meet her. If fate gave me the opportunity to meet her, then my freewill has unwittingly destroyed the beauty of coincidence.
My brother, his colleague and I just climbed down Mount HuaShan in Xi’An. While the mountain’s seven-thousand foot elevation overlooked mere foothills in comparison, the exhaustive hike took 8 hours up, winding around mountains and climbing steps specifically designed for bound feet. As demeaning as that may sound, my size ten feet continuously hung off the narrow footsteps until I reached the summit at 2:00 am on July 5th and we camped without sleep on stone and in the wind, awaiting a gift from the west: sunrise.
That same day when the sun made the 8 am position, we climbed back down the mountain. Some say the climb down is faster and much easier. Yes, indeed that climb took a simple 6 hours down, but thighs and calves quivered uncontrollable with each step in much the same manner a weak tree branch is unsure of the weight it carries. But we needed to return and thus trudged through the streets of Xi’An, appreciating the various escalators the city offered at the entrances and exits to tunnels and street corners. Our legs refused steps. Our last night in the city, we watched a water light show and went to bed.
Exhaustion got the better of us and before we even reached the train station the next morning, we knew our train left. Instead of reclining on those beds closest to the floor, we trudged to a hostel and stayed on last night before leaving in the morning on July 7th. A McDonald’s sausage mc’muffin filled our spirits, even though we had the top most bunks instead of the bottom most bunk. Kids screamed and ran in straight lines because space didn’t provide enough room to run in circles. None of us were sure where to sleep. One of the beds is in this section, my brother’s colleague demanded to have the middle bunk. I didn’t actually care who slept where. I didn’t even know how kids possessed more adrenaline at 9:00 am than a full grown adult on 4 cups of coffee.
It really hits you when you see her, or just anyone so mesmerizing and yet you can't express your feelings. Even if I'm a hopeless romantic and choke on every word as if English somehow became a second language when I meet beautiful girls, this time I knew Chinese failed me. Even if we both spoke the same dialect or she miraculously spoke English, I don't think I could talk to her. What do I have to offer that she doesn't already possess? As time moved forward, she climbed down from the bed, and I stole a glance or two just to see her eyes and she sat next to me. There’s nothing special with the seat she chose. In this narrow hallway with only two seats for every 6 beds, only I’m lucky to be this close to a girl whom I can’t even talk to except for a simple “ni hao” in a broken Chinese accent.
I’d never expect it, but my brother’s colleague became my unwitting wingman. Full-blooded American without a hint of Chinese, other than confusing the Hua in HuaShan for 花 (huā - flower) and not 华 (huá - majestic), he could only speak English. Aside from my brother, I am the only fluent speaking English boy on that train.
“Hello.”
Of course every Chinese person knew this simple greeting, even if they have an accent or mispronounce the rough he sound.
“Do you mind if I talk with you?”
You walk into an interview, you need to over exemplify yourself to impress the interviewer. In church you are supposed to dress up for God, but reality it’s just an excuse for your parents to make you wear those dress pants and button down shirt just to wear something nice. Everyone is trying to be something they are not just to impress someone who merely wears the title of authority.
She didn’t have to impress me by over exaggerating herself. I remember her eyes so clearly. In the shadows her eyes retained a level of color, like looking into the bottom of a crystal clear lake. And when the light reflected off her iris at the correct angle, all you saw is the beauty of the most unreachable treasure. That timid accent that said “yes” that sounded rehearsed but connected ideas and sentences that proved her ability to translate her complex Chinese ideas into clear English syntax left me speechless in both Chinese and English.
I could go into depth about how I introduced her to UNO, the length of our conversation on traveling the world and her curiosity with American culture. How we began seems less important than what we have become since then, but it is that beginning that leaves me wondering about the present. It’s like the perfectly clichéd story of how boy meets girl. Perhaps it seems more significant that I missed the July 6th train and met her the following day. Writing about it now aches my heart. Just to see how fate intertwined my destiny with hers, and yet I don’t know how profoundly she’s been affected by our encounter or how much I’ve changed the outcome.
12/4/2010 2:39 AM
To think...after spending about an hour and half writing this...and at this time, I went to check Renren and there she is online, visiting my profile...I’m telling you this girl will be the end of me...
