sofasurfers

Not naturally blessed with the patience gene, I have noticed a
remarkable spell that seems to have been cast upon myself when in the
presence of my couchsurfing hosts. It must be something to do with the
overwhelming sense of indebtedness when staying as someone’s
non-paying, barely-contributing guest. For yes, I can’t promise that
it will last, but I seem to have located my long-dormant patient
streak. It’s particularly apparent when then not in the company of
one’s host, when suddenly my wicked old friend, The Impatient One,
reappears. And how bad I felt for the kind and sweet economics student
who agreed to accompany me to Turpan. To be fair, it was a trying day.
It was a six-hour round trip, plus long walks around fascinating
historic sites, all to the incessant accompaniment: “So, in Britain,
what do you eat for breakfast? So tell me about British history…
What do you like to do in your spare time? What do you like to do in
your spare time? What do you like to do in your spare time? (This is
not a typo.) So, in Britain…?” Sometimes, I had to say, do you mind
if I just read this sign (you know, those museum signs where the lines
are too long and the words start jumping about if you don’t
concentrate). Then there was: “Take a photo” (repeat three times at
every point of interest and non-interest). And when I did take a
photo, my new photographic assistant would be right behind me looking
into the screen. Plus there an ever-ready arm to hold mine when
approaching any imminent danger – a step, for example, a door. Don’t
worry, I’d say, I can do this by myself. DON’T WORRY! PLEASE! And when
I gazed out of the window, it would be: “So are you meditating?” or
“What are you thinking about now?” or “So, in Britain…?” And then of
course there was the language barrier: “So, in Britain, jin shah
panas?” What? “So, in Britain, jin shah panas?” Oh God, and then he
started shouting in the Jiaohe ruins to hear his own echo, and started
mucking about with a megaphone we found. I wanted to scream. But it
was when he said, “America is a much more open country. Britain is so
closed and rigid,” that I burst. And exactly are you basing your
opinions on? I snapped. “American culture is much more diverse, much
more available – Coca Cola is everywhere, we have American films.”
Well I suggest you do a bit more research (ooh! Challenging me and my
national pride – big mistake). It was a shame I had lost the will to
speak because he did of course have much to say for himself. But it
seems, British women are something of a rarity out here. Everyone,
including him, assumes at first I am American (”99% of Western women
we see here are American, so when I realised you were British, I
understood you were precious”.) Yes, but I can cross the road unaided,
thank you. The Impatient One clearly needs some more couchsurfing
therapy.

Jiaohe

Taojing