Purgatory

I should have stayed for tea.

Saturdays are for adventuring in Beijing. The rest of the week is predominantly filled with work and the occasional jaunt around the neighbourhood but rarely results in any kind of journey straying too far from familiarity. A knock on the door woke me earlier than my usual Saturday and thus the wheels were put in motion for a day full of surprises, frustration and maniacal laughter.

Amanda, Katie and I made our way to the bus stop at around 11:00 AM. We had to go several stops on Bus 300 toward the south-east of Beijing to meet Jeffrey, a former colleague and current friend also living in the city. The plan was to meet, jump on another bus, and check out a pet/jewelry/plant market (yes...you could buy a rabbit and a necklace in the same place).

Nursing my wounds from the night before was made more difficult by the heavy traffic and stuttering movement of our bus. At our stop I tossed away a half pack of smokes. I made a mental decision that I didn't need them and I'd been cutting back anyway. I later regretted this. We finally met Jeffrey at a Costa Coffee where I downed an Americano and a cereal muffin. We shot the breeze for a while and went on our way.

Another lengthy bus ride brought us to the pet labyrinth. This place is corridor after corridor of various shops with fish, tarantulas, flying squirrels, and more. We browsed and found some depressing spots where the animals live in tiny cages wallowing in their own feces.

It was still an interesting place, and not all animals were being abused (at least not openly). It's another one of those things that certainly wouldn't fly in Canada, in the open, but no one really bats an eye here.

We grabbed a cab to a tea market even further away. The clock read 3:45. I had plans to meet up with a friend back at the apartment at 6:00. I still wanted to shower and relax, so I figured if I cut the tea market out of my schedule, I'd be back at the apartment around 5:00. The traffic was rotten so an hour in transit seemed believable.

Jeffrey said it was not a problem and that a subway station would be nearby. What he meant, though it wasn't clear to me, was that a subway station was several bus stops away from the tea market.

I cursed upon this realization.

Jeffrey asked if I wanted to join them for a couple cups of tea before heading off. I said I'd rather just get on my way. I'm a punctual person, take great pride in being on time when I say I am going to be somewhere. I was admittedly getting a little stressed as we tried, with futility, to flag a cab because I saw my chances at getting a shower were slipping away. I acquiesced and jumped on the bus, waved goodbye and was gone.

Traffic was hell. There were so many stops and very few starts. Finally, I made it after what felt like an eternity. Off the bus I looked for a subway. By now I had become aware that I needed to first take line 1 and transfer to line 10 so I can get back to my neck of the woods: Liangmaqiao Rd. Problem was I couldn't find the subway.

I walked down the street where I assumed it must be. The bus schedule said this stop had a subway station with line 1 on it. I came to a sign that said the station was 200 metres away...in the direction I came from. Confused, I went back that way for several minutes but again couldn't find it.

Past the sign, which I returned to, I walked up a set of steps to an overpass to get a bird's eye view. I looked back in the direction the sign had suggested. In the distance, I made out a subway stop. It was like a level of Doom, though. I could see exactly where I wanted to be but had no real idea how to get there.

For the third time I walked to where the sign was telling me. This time, I crossed the street to a narrow sidewalk. One subway station was obscured by blue walls. It was definitely closed for construction. I was bewildered. A steady flow of people was coming from around the corner ahead of me. Others were walking in that direction. It seemed likely that the subway station was there because it made little sense for these people to be walking through the desolate underpass near a slew of construction. Sure enough, the subway was there.

A subway ticket in Beijing is 2RMB. That is the equivalent to just over 30 cents Canadian. The problem, another of many this day, was I only had one 1RMB bill and two 100RMB bills. Ugh. I tried to buy a subway card with one of the 100s. This way I can just use the card whenever I use the subway. That's when I notice my bank card is gone. The worst case scenario is I left it in the machine when I used it the day before and the next person in cleaned me out. My own stupid haste. As I'm dealing with this, the vendor shakes his head indicating he either can't or won't sell me a card or accept my 100RMB bill.

Back above ground I went to the other subway station just across from the exit of the first one. Fortunately, there was a vendor here who sold me a card and I was on my way again. On the subway, just as the doors closed and it started moving, I noticed the station I was at was a transfer station for line 10; the line I needed to be on. It would have been smart to get off at the next stop and walk across to the other train to go back one stop to make the transfer. I did not think of this and instead went 11 stops to the next transfer line.

"You've got to be kidding me," I yelled.

The entrance to line 10 was gated, closed. If I had read my email more closely this week I would have remembered one specific notice that informed us all that line 10 was going to be closed for work to be done.

The sun had set between the 11 stops.

On the street I recognized nothing. I ended up in a brand new section of town. It didn't matter to me if I was going to drop an extra amount of money for a cab. It was 5:30. The shower was out of the question but if I got a cab quickly enough I would still be able to meet my friend.

Nope.

There were at least ten people, or groups of people, trying to flag down their own cabs.  I walked in some random direction hoping I'd get away from the crowd and have the taxis all to myself. None stopped. Most had passengers in them, but there were a few who simply waved me off or shut off their lights as they approached me. Without any coherent plan, I walked.

Normally, I'd hoof it home no matter how far I had to go. There was one hitch in this idea, though. I did not know what direction to go in. Considering I didn't know anyone, the signs were in Mandarin, and no one spoke English I may have been going completely in the wrong direction. I lost my phone a month ago and haven't replaced it so I couldn't call on anyone for help either.

I saw a bus stop and it dawned on me that I might be able to find the 300 bus and make it home. I sighed in relief when I saw the 300 bus listed at this stop. After waiting a bit, it arrived and I settled in. After a few stops being announced, it seemed like the bus was going away from my road. Another setback.

I got off at the next stop, crossed the overpass, and got on the next 300 bus going in the opposite direction. Somewhere I made a mistake. Two stops after I got on we reached the end of the line and everyone had to get off. I felt like I was in the movie After Hours only without a dead woman or a mob chasing me.

Again I set to walking. And after a few minutes I, again, came across a bus stop with 300 on it. I waited, and for the third time I got on the bus. This time I asked the ticket-seller "Liangmaqiao?" She gave me the universal signal for the number 5 by holding up her hand and digits. I assumed this meant five stops.

"YES!" I yelled repeatedly as I exited the bus on familiar ground. I bounced down the street toward home, finally walking in the door at 8:15. I missed tea, and I missed my friend at the apartment but wow...what a day. My frustration grew for so long until I could do nothing but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Every time it seemed like I was on the right track, something went wrong.

My freezing body was cured by the warmth of the shower, a bowl of cereal and a bottle of water as I curled up on my tiny couch. Any prospects of leaving again had been shot by my ridiculous mishaps.

A day in purgatory had finally been solved and I needed a rest.

Counterfeit

Son of a bitch.

It was shaping up to be a great day and then the night happened. That's not entirely fair, the night was mostly good but sometimes it takes one thing to put a damper on the entire proceedings.

We played games, had a few drinks, shot the breeze at the residence. Smiles abound. I'll admit I was getting restless as the clock inched closer to midnight because the goal was still to go out. The later it got the later I'd be out and about. Normally, this isn't a problem but I was not in the necessary dexterous shape to spend a second consecutive night carousing until 4 or 5 in the morning. You need training to go on a spree like that.

We made it to the First Floor at probably 12:15. When people in Canada go to the bar that late it makes me shake my head; last call comes at quarter to 2 and the bars close shortly after (some exceptions stay open a bit later). In Beijing, last call is more in the mind of the beholder; you are left to your own devices and limits.

Making it out, I felt better and was ready to have a fun time. Some decent music was playing and it takes me some time, and the right song, to get me moving. The First Floor serves Guinness on draft - 50 RMB (equivalent to 8 Canadian dollars) - and while it's slightly overpriced, I wanted the delicious dark beer to set my mood. I gave the bartender a 100 RMB bill. After a few moments he returned it to me.

"It's fake," he said.

I stared at him, dumbfounded, and scrambled through my wallet to find 50 RMB in smaller bills. Mulling this oddity over I sauntered back to the crew of colleagues that had gathered to dance, cheer, and chat.

The right song came on, causing me to momentarily forget about the counterfeit bill I was apparently peddling. "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen is one of the best songs I've heard, it brings out the need to sing along and bounce that few others inspire in me. Forget the typical heavy bass dance songs popular in clubs, it's songs like this that really get me going. I am, apparently, a less than energetic person in the eyes of some of my colleagues. I noticed Anthony staring, jaw-dropped, as I bounded and smiled and jumped around like a spastic hyena.

The song ended and I tried to keep the groove in tact, but the beer was gone and the fake money was burning a hole in my pocket. The damndest thing is where I got the money: the bank. I didn't get it mixed in some change from a cabbie (they would never have a reason to give me 100 RMB as change anyway), or food, or anything else. I exchanged some Canadian money earlier in the day as I set up my bank account. I figured since it's a bank that I'd have nothing to worry about; apparently not.

I mentioned the conundrum to a colleague expecting to be greeted with shock and awe.

"Wow, your luck isn't very good this week," she said, referencing earlier in the week when I accidentally swallowed my fake tooth when taking a sip.

According to her, this thing happened last year to another colleague. The bank issued fake money and when she returned to the bank later, they refused to fix it. Makes sense, how could you prove that the bank gave it to you? They would probably look at you like you're trying to pull of some backward scam.

I had another 100 in my pocket and about 25 more in small bills that I intended for the cab later. I gave the 100 to another friend who proceeded to get me a second Guinness. She returned with the beer and my 100. Two counterfeits. I shook my head, graciously accepted her charity beer and stewed in my brewing anger. At this point I should have collected my losses, tucked my tail and return home to lick my wounds and vow to do better next time. Instead, I finished my drink and joined the crowd on its way to Kokomo, a rooftop dance bar down the street from the First Floor.

We danced, and crammed into the crowd near the DJ at the front of the dance floor. I got elbowed in the side, shoved a bit and was generally pressed between five bodies at once. In a different state of mind, and maybe without my heavy leather jacket, I would have been able to have fun. As it was I was mellow and the music and scene was anything but. My friends were all jovial and laughing and dancing, exactly how you should be at such a place of decadent excess, flashing lights and deafening bass. As Cee-Lo Green's catchy "Fuck You" faded, and the sing along ended, I lunged at the hole in the crowd to my right. Standing at the edge of the bar in the only place where I wasn't shoulder to shoulder with a bunch of other people I watched the sweating mass become a singular entity wishing I could merge back into it but my mind was set on dwelling on those rat bastards who gave me fake money. To the streets.

This was the course of some excitement, as I hadn't been left to my own devices to get home yet; I'd always been with others. I tried to take what looked like a shortcut through a shopping area that closes around midnight. A security guard stopped me. While I couldn't understand the words, I knew he wasn't letting me pass through that area. I considered for a moment the excitement that would follow if I were to run into the area and thought better of it. No need to be reckless.

A cab stopped for me and didn't unlock his doors. The cabbie rolled down the window and raised three fingers. After a few seconds of trying to communicate it was clear he wanted 30 RMB for the cab ride. This is absurd by Beijing standards. Even in heavy traffic, it usually costs less than 20 to get to Sanlitun (the district we were in) from our residence. I told him I would only give him 25 (still overpriced, but it was all I could muster). He acquiesced, unlocked the doors and let me in. He didn't set the meter. He ripped me off. But I got home and it wasn't that late, somewhere around 2 AM. Others started coming through the halls around 4 or 5 or maybe 6.

Now to find someone who can tell the counterfeit bills from the real ones and to find a way to fix it.

#184: Night on Earth

Night on Earth (1991)
Written and Directed by Jim Jarmusch
Starring Winona Ryder, Gena Rowlands, Armin Mueller-Stahl, Giancarlo Esposito, Rosie Perez, Isaach De Bankole, Roberto Benigni
Original music by Tom Waits

Jim Jarmusch is an odd duck. A very creative and sometimes off-putting odd duck. I can easily see why his films are not everyone's cup of tea. They don't have a strict narrative in cases like this and Coffee and Cigarettes or they move slowly focusing more on character instead of plot.

Jarmusch is certainly a virtuosic filmmaker. His work is hard to swallow and to this day he has not made a film designed for the popcorn munching crowd. Some could call him elitist or snooty, but his films are undeniably fascinating whether you like them or find them to be pretentious drivel.

Night on Earth was a great experience. Because I was a fan of his more recent work I ordered Night on Earth from the Criterion collection website last summer when I had a job and thought I would have disposable income for a while.

"Why not invest in my film collection?" I asked.

So I ponied up the cash and waited.

Working at the newspaper, I didn't exactly have fixed hours when I had to be working. If nothing is going on or nothing is scheduled we didn't have to be at the office non-stop to save face with management. At the time, the arts scene in Woodstock was one of my main beats. Like any arts scene, what was going on usually happened at night.

My afternoons were filled by reading at Fusion (the local coffee shop where a bunch of live music happens, usually on Saturdays) and watching movies. Night on Earth was a pleasant surprise. It's really five movies taking place in the same night in five different taxis across the globe.

Two in the USA -- LA and New York, so they might as well be different countries -- one in Paris, Rome and Helsinki. The beauty in the film is Jarmusch doesn't just put a jumble of comedic stories together. They're all slices of life but none are quite like the one preceding it.

The best of the five is the Helsinki short. It's tragic and moving without the melodrama that ruins many of the mainstream big budget tear-fests. It works so well because the characters are realistic and earnest and it bookends the lighter fare.

As we delve deeper into the night across the globe as the viewer the subject matter gets deeper and has more weight to it. There is a progression like any night or any week or any lifetime. This film lives and breathes with its characters.

The setting of the taxi cab is particularly effective because we take the role of passenger. I'm sure you've all been in a cab. And since you've been in a cab you've likely had a conversation with a cab driver. I bet it was at least interesting if not a bit disturbing.

In the spirit of the film I will share two quick cabbie stories...neither of which happened while I was in a cab but a cab driver was involved. Both involve my friend Garrett.

A few winters ago I was in Halifax. Garrett and I went to Bayer's Lake for a double feature. I think it was when The Ring came out or something, but that was October 2002, and I'm pretty sure this happened in February 2003. In any case we get out of Bayer's Lake and it's late, close to midnight. We think the buses are done but we see one coming around the corner.

We raced for that sucker and just barely got on and paid the fare. I think he paid the fare for both of us because I had no change on me. One of my worst habits is using my debit card for everything.

The bus took us to two stops and the driver turned around and said "end of the line." The bus had taken us farther away from the end destination of Seymour Street in the city so we were left with a choice, hoof it or cab it. I discovered I had left my gloves in the movie theatre but we decided to walk anyway. I had this irrational fear of cab drivers at the time, don't ask me why.

So we walked through Mount St. Vincent University. The air was deathly calm and the mid February night was chilly but there was no wind. On the bare tree branches surrounding the campus were hugs black clouds. Well, they weren't clouds. The branches were full of crows. I was a bit uneasy when I said "a murder of crows" so we hustled out of there.

After two hours of walking and some getting lost in some shady looking neighbourhoods -- Halifax can be a daunting place late at night -- we finally reached a familiar territory, Quinpool Road. Walking down a side street parallel to Oxford I saw a parked cab with a cabbie sitting in the front seat leaning back. As Garrett and I walked closer we saw a girl's head pop up from the cabbie's lap and she got out of the car and ran into the house it was parked in front of.

I smiled at the driver and gave him the thumbs up. He turned on the car and drove away. Nothing like catching a cabbie collecting payment orally.

The second story is from just over a month ago when I was in Halifax again, this time for my friend Bill's wedding. I agreed to help Garrett take some sound equipment to the hotel where the wedding was being held. Garrett was doing sound and taking care of the music but had no car, so I decided to help him avoid cabs for the day. Yeah, sure.

The street where the hotel is on is narrow. There was a parked cab in front of the hotel and I was coming from the opposite direction. To park legally I would either have to drive around the block and come in the opposite side or do an illegal u-turn in the narrow street. I elected for the u-turn.

I thought if I pulled the nose of my car in behind the cab and backed up we'd have time. I swung nose first in and then the cab started backing up. If I tried to swing out it would have caused a bit of damage to both of us. I honked at the last second and he bumped my fender. I backed out.

Then out out of the cab climbs this 6'6" monster of a man with a scowl to match. He looks at his bumper and looks at me and nods. I roll down my window and ask "we good?" He nodded again and got in his cab and drove away. I drove around the block and came in the opposite side.

In any case, watch Night on Earth and think about interesting encounters you've had with cab drivers. Share them with me if you like.