The Longbow Papers

By Leslie Collings

As I rode my bike along the bicycle lane, which was right on the edge of an expressway and separated, thank goodness, by a narrow, cement block strip, I realized the breeze was getting stronger against my chest and significantly, much warmer too. I also knew my legs were getting tired and my mouth was dry. No. Not me! It couldn't be that I was not up for it. After all, I'd biked along this road many times in the past, even when I'd lived in Beijing during the early nineties. I pushed on, but a voice inside was telling me that all was not well and that I should 'take a rest.'

Yes. It was a hot afternoon and I'd been pedaling for about an hour from my home on the east side of Beijing heading west towards a very prestigious university where my dear friend, a senior professor, was expecting me. We would spend time in our favourite coffee lounge, discussing world events and how to change them. I could envisage maybe more than just a couple of drinks would follow our almost regular meeting. I'd decided to 'bike it' this time, instead of getting a taxi, but now I was beginning to realize I was not even half way and that I had a problem.

Bicycle lanes abound in Beijing and most are set alongside wide tree-lined streets and offer plenty of shade. Right now though, I seemed to be in an almost treeless section and concrete walls and curbs were everywhere. I had navigated across busy intersections and entrances to the expressway, seemingly at times taking my life into my own hands as I 'judged' that the car behind would not 'take me out' as I crossed its path. It was not so much the cars that worried me as it did the drivers. Imagine all of them with brand new driving licenses, mostly within the past 5 years!

Suddenly ahead I saw a bit of green, which quickly turned into a park with lots of trees. Shade and a place to relax was just what I was looking for. Once there, I realized that a drink was urgently needed as I had started to feel sick and slightly giddy, which I knew was the onset of dehydration. Where to get a drink? Straining to see clearly ahead, I saw a bus turn onto the road and realized there was a bus station just further up, so I got back on my bike and slowly made my way there. I found a place to park my bike, next to a big tree and with a comfortable looking seat, right next to a bus passenger waiting area.

Better still, was the little kiosk that sold all sorts of refreshments and I was quickly gulping down some bottled water. I sat there. I had no plans to move and, indeed, did not have the slightest intention of moving, as I realized I was right out of energy and felt quite exhausted. I had a sick feeling and just wanted to stay there on my new-found seat and watch the world go by. I was in the right place for that too, as bus after bus kept rolling out of the bus station and I was camped right next to the main exit.

After awhile I began to take an interest in the buses, as they roared past me, not more than 3-4 meters away. Some were the very latest models twisting in the middle like a snake as they rounded the corner to then proceed on their journey. Others were the absolute opposite; old, falling apart it seemed, rusty everywhere and looking as if they were about to collapse at any moment. However, I noticed they all had one thing in common, which was the latest item of electronic technology for collecting fares and it really intrigued me.

As I watched, while bus passengers from 'my own' queuing area boarded a bus, each of them flashed a card at a device just inside the bus door and then proceeded on into the bus. Here was the very latest technology being used on every bus, no matter its condition and no matter that the passengers were just ordinary people from the bus-traveling level of society. I marveled that technology could be integrated and utilized so easily into the daily life of all these people around me.

I looked long and hard, but kindly of course, at the people around me, while I sat there on my seat as they queued for their bus. They were all sorts and a veritable cross section of people who ride on buses. Quite different, say, to another cross section of those who fly on aero planes, ride in taxis or have their chauffeur pick them up, 'timely please.' I was amongst very real people from the very heart of the city and who were, no doubt, its heartbeat. They looked and smiled at me. They showed warmth and interest. They saw an older man, a foreigner, a total stranger, but I did not feel alone, not anymore.

Then suddenly, from across the road that went through inside the bus station, came a lady in a two-piece blue uniform and a big and friendly smile on her face. She came right up to me and immediately made it known that she was concerned about my health and how I was feeling. She spoke in Chinese, which I did not fully understand, but her attitude and her manner made it quite clear that she was there to help, care and be friendly. I was so very appreciative of her good intent and after she had left for several minutes she returned with a large bottle of hot tea, which she pushed into my hands.

Then she started to daub ointment onto my face. It was a type of Chinese 'tiger balm,' which has a strong aroma, but is well known all over Asia. She put it on my forehead, behind my ears, on my cheeks, under my chin, on the back of my neck and made really sure I was well and truly anointed. She had such a lovely smile and a happy expression that my memory of her will stay for a long time.

I continued sitting there, on my seat and just relaxed. I also called my friend via my mobile, to let him know of my problem and that I would not make it to his place. When I was finally feeling better, I turned my bike around and headed back towards home.

However, just before then, my happy smiling friend brought another lady to meet me and by now I realized that they both wore the same uniform, that of a bus driver. She was perhaps a little bit younger and spoke some English, enough to understand my appreciation and for her to tell me she would get some more water for me. She came back with 2 plastic bottles, frozen solid and which no doubt came from the very bottom of their bus station refrigerator. Later, as I was about to leave, I saw a no. 125 bus pull up in front of me and my happy smiling lady friend waved, before she put the engine into gear and drove her bus out into the busy world of Beijing traffic.

I felt good. I felt cared for. I was happy again and especially to be in this unique city containing so many special people. The next time I take off on my bike to visit my friend in west Beijing, I'll make sure the weather is suitable and that I stop at a certain friendly bus station for a rest and visit the kiosk to buy some water and a bottle of hot tea.

Editors note: Leslie Collings, the author of this fine slice of Beijing life, is not just a dear friend, he is a priceless resource of information and wisdom; he left the U.K. as a young lad more years ago than either of us choose to mention in these pages. He has led--and still robustly does--a life in all corners of our rounded globe that is more colorful and enriching than any novel a writer could invent. There are many parts of Les's life that only he can choose to amaze, entertain and educate you with.

Suffice it to say that over the last five decades he has dealt with kings, dictators, presidents, premiers and, as in this piece, the salt of our Earth. He has spent most of those years in Asia, with a few stops elsewhere as his heart and his humanity led him in between. As far as China is concerned, I believe he arrived with Marco Polo, stayed longer and learned more. It is a great honor to publish him here in these pages. If we are fortunate, it will not be the last time he graces us with his insight.

The picture below is from our work together on the film China, 1949, in which he does a star's turn of work that you will see in a Chinese theater in your neighborhood soon.

 

9:31 PM / Editor / permalink    6 comments

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6 Comments:

Ya'll 'scuze me if'n I slip inta ma native tongue. But what in da hail wuz he thinkin?

Wridding dat durn bike out dere in da heat.

Joe, you tell'em I said: Take a cab feller, I'll pay fer it.

You be careful now, ya here!

By  The Admiral, at 11:55 PM  

Love the pictures!

By  Renee, at 6:02 AM  

You look so HANDSOME!!!

By  Jayne, at 1:37 AM  

you still look so handsome, even though I posted somebody else's blog by mistake; ay! is Mercury retrograde, or what?
Can't wait to see the movie, Joseph!

By  jayne, at 1:39 AM  

My Dear Jayne,

Thank you for the exceedingly kind appraisal of what I look like as an old man. I wish I could say you should have seen me when; but I was also an ugly young man. Not totally without charm and occasional wit, to be sure, but my sister got all of the looks in the family.

You, of course, possess great beauty in appearance and, so much more importantly, in mind, spirit and soul. Your words, though, are your greatest gift to the world. Your recent piece, "Crimes of Opportunity," on LadyJayne's Blog is pitch perfect.

Unfortunately, Blogspot blogs are blocked in China; many of my readers cannot get there without some difficulty. I think I am going to return a recent favor and serve it up here as a guest post in these pages.

I still owe you an e-mail of some length and breadth and it is coming, soon, I think.

Most sincerely yours,

Joseph

By  Joseph, at 5:29 PM  

Dear Renee,

How kind of you, my Chinese "daughter"; enjoy yourself in the Big Apple. I also owe you an e-mail. It is coming, relatively soon, I think.

With love,

Joseph

By  Joseph, at 5:36 PM  

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