LIFE/TRAVEL ®È´å¥¾°O
An Excursion to the Grassland of Inner Mongolia
I stood by the side of the unpaved road in the middle of the Mongolian grassland, not knowing where to go. The van was parked along the curb. The van had
a broken tire. Krissa sat beside me on a rock and propped her chin on her hand. I met Krissa in the "Advanced Mandarin for Foreigners" class at Peking
University. It was a rather useless class, except for my meeting Krissa.
Krissa once told me that she was sitting in an Internet cafe near the university one day when a local man approached her and said, "You are one of the most
beautiful girls I know." Naturally Krissa answered in her fragile Mandarin, "Thank you." She knew she was pretty and she acted so. She was pretty,
pretty in a way that carried frailty, that made men want to protect her. When I announced my interest in taking a train to Inner Mongolia many people were
excited, but in the end only Krissa came through with me.
I went to Krissa's classroom and waited outside for her to finish, and with a "Let's go," we went. I bought the train tickets at the crowded train station.
We pointed, we gasped, we hoped. We were all smiles. Smiled at the by passers. Smiled at the Liberation Army officer. Smiled at the sky. Smiled at the
stairs.
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That Bike Ride
I bought a bike a few days ago at some bike store around Beishida. It cost 175 kuai including two locks, a basket and a bell. No bargain needed because
my roommate heard from other students that it's the cheapest store in town. (Though today I found out from the teacher that we can get cheaper from the
"stolen bike" stores) Got a brand new flashy violet bike-a size four.
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