There aren’t any bathrooms on here and we’ve been on the highway for an hour, passing by more rural parts of the country.
Oh Asia, why do you hate my weak stomach so? First, Seoul left a bad taste in my intestines when I ate smoked salmon on a trip two years ago that left me glued to a heated bidet seat for several hours.
And today, the eggs did me in at our hotel in Sanmenxia, China. I suspect it was the scrambled eggs or the boiled egg I had. Either way, it was bad news bears three hours later.
We had finished a visit to a village 22 km south of the city to check out the Patio Houses, which are “cave residences,” homes that are built underground. (I’ll get back to that later after telling you about this craptacular business.)
My stomach ache intensity went from zero to 60 in a matter of minutes that left me keeling over. Our next stop was a tomb museum and after informing the tourism people out my ailment, the driver put the pedal to the metal and an escort brought me to the museum’s washroom.
The exterior of the bathroom entranceway was covered by plastic sheets – the same ones you would see in a grocery store’s meat department. The lights didn’t work. I was running out of time. Then it occurred to me I might actually have to shit and squat at the same time. Thankfully, there was a single western toilet stall. I took my position. I cannot thank Ernest for recommending I bring Wet Wipes. It would have been a very messy situation had I not because there was no paper.
What do Chinese people do? Walk around with shitty bums after going to the bathroom in public?
The most soothing thing to me during that experience was the sound of bells chiming outside.
And then I realized that the flush button was broken.
Well, glad there wasn’t any lights after all. I didn’t look back.
Anyway, we’re only at the museum for a short while and we head back to the hotel. I barely make it to my room before all hell breaks loose. Thankfully, that was the worst of it and after two shots of Pepto and a nap, I’m 100% again.
We’re heading into Luoyang City now. Population: 6.5 million.
It’s a far stretch from the 16,000 people living in the village earlier today. There are roughly 200 families that live in these patio houses. A flight of concrete steps leads you down into a courtyard area and there you’ll find the rooms to the house – bedrooms, a kitchen, washroom. It’s very bare bones, save for a couple paper decorations, which is the local’s specialty into Chinese folk arts.
The farmers don’t make very much money, maybe $260 a month. But their values are not complicated. Grow crops, provide for a family so their children can have a better life. We were told the farmers never go into the city…and why would they? They have everything they need right in the 30 square kilometers.
Most of the houses we passed by were above ground – most were by sheer definition, shacks. Some were missing roofs. Chloe asked if I thought anyone would have iPods there. Umm…probably not.
Being in a place like that certainly makes you appreciate the simpler life. I think Dave has helped me a lot with being more open-minded with small towns. There is a world outside Toronto and big cities and it makes you more humble when you see it first hand.
It actually annoys me when people speak negatively about smaller towns – even though I used to do the same a year ago. Experiencing them has changed my outlook and gives me a different perspective, even though I may not prefer to live in one right now.
National Jennygraphic continues…
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