Yellow Mountain
It was the summer of 1987 and we were living and teaching English in China. There are five holy mountains in China, and we climbed a few of them.
Mount Tai - https://www.chinahighlights.com/mount-tai/
We definitely climbed Mount Tai in the spring - and the legend was if you climbed the 10,000 steps you would live to be 100. On Mount Tai, we saw a museum of strange things - siamese twin fetuses pickled in jars and other oddities. I remember ancient women whose feet had clearly been bound, climbing in groups to the top, and the men who carried vegetables up the 10,000 steps every day had calf muscles like ledges.
We also climbed Yellow Mountain in the summer - there are five peaks on Yellow Mountain, straight up and straight straight down, and we climbed four out of the five.
I remember a long-legged man in our group who began to tremble after too many steps downward, and he had to lie down to ease the muscle cramping.
It rained nonstop.
And in all the rain, I grew sick on Yellow Mountain, so much so, that we needed to leave and buy tickets to Shanghai and get back to civilization. One of our students, Lu Zhong Hai, was also traveling with us, and he had asked us for an English name, so I offered, "Duffy," my brother's name, and he liked it.
I was homesick, and I liked being able to say my. brother’s name all the way over in China.
Chinese Duffy or Lu Zhong Hai led us up and down Yellow Mountain and he would say things like, "Prepare for the miracle" when the clouds would begin to part to allow a glimpse of sun to shine on us as he read to from the guide book.
“Prepare for the miracle, my friends.”
Then I got sick, so we decided to leave. The ticket booth area was crowded that day with impatient travelers. Kiffen asked for tickets to Shanghai, and the ticket lady, nodded, and prepared them.
Then Kiffen showed the woman his teacher ID and government ID, which meant we could buy our tickets with Chinese money and not FEC - in those long ago days, FEC could be NOT exchanged into dollars, but Chinese money - Yuan - could only be spent in China. We had just a few American Express Travelers' cheques left, and we were paid in Yuan, not FEC.
Each month, I received 700 Yuan, and Kiffen received 600 Yuan, in thick rolls of bills. I had an MFA in Playwriting and he had a BA in Psychology, which was why there was a slight difference.
But that day, when the ticket counter lady saw our teacher Yuan money and not the FEC cash, she spoke sharply in Chinese something to the effect of - "No more tickets to Shanghai. All gone! No, no, no! Sold out!"
I was sitting on the floor of this station, feverish and only mildly interested in the escalating drama, which felt like a liquid dream.
Kiffen began to argue with her. "You were about to sell me tickets to Shanghai!"
"No more, sold out. No tickets to Shanghai. Next!"
I have a very even tempered husband. who really finds the good in everyone, but he did not find the good in everyone that day - not with the ticket lady who refused to sell us tickets to Shanghai.
The fight blew up fast and the ticket window was so small, you could only fit your hand through, but Kiffen's rage was so enormous that I could actually see him shrinking and flying through the tiny ticket window for justice.
By then a crowd had gathered to watch the storm.
He could even see the tickets to Shanghai she had prepared, and he wanted to grab them fast.
But what really happened in the end was that she threw tickets at him to another town, not Shangahai, but a little hamlet kind of along the way, and then SLAM, BAAM - She shut the window entirely.
CLOSED CLOSED CLOSED.
Nobody could buy anymore tickets that afternoon. Maybe they only closed for lunch, but it felt permanent and final.
The crowd dispersed, muttering and resigned, and we made our way to the train station with Lu Zhong Hai. I didn't care. I was so sick nothing mattered.
But somehow Kiffen had bought us soft sleeper, so I could rest. I climbed into the bunk and slept and felt like I was on the edge of the world about to fall off somewhere near Yellow Mountain.
Later, I learned he and Lu Zhong Hai (Duffy) went off to get beers. It was all such a long time ago. Lu Zhong Hai ended up at Nottingham to study. Where is he now? Does he remember the wild ticket rage and the slamming of windows, the crowd yelling and then dispersing on Yellow Mountain?
It was our first year of marriage, the year of the rabbit.
