Following Buddha

I am in the train to Xining. Most of the people here around me are looking at me as I start writing... on a paper, and not even my laptop. I dont care that I am being stared at. My back is hurting. It is killing me in fact. The pain in the shoulders is of exhaustion, my luggage is too heavy. I think I over packed. But what do I have that I dont need. Or is a luxury. The only hope is that I will be getting rid of some load when I see Jonathan in Yushu.

Beijing was a tremendous experience. The amount of people everywhere at any time was just incredible. And yet so much discipline, decorum, and cleanliness. An escalator in the middle of road, being used by a hundreds per minute is just one example. I compare it to the broken escalator located at he Finch subway station, it has been under-repair since before I can remember.

The cycle trip was a good idea. It is a weird feeling that I won't be going back to Beijing. On this trip at least. The city doesn't look like a place where I can just go once and spend a day. It is a kind of lace that keeps you there and calls upon you again and again. It is a kind of place where I should be finishing my journey as well... just like havana, what a city. But that is not happening. I leave beijing and see it the last time... probably for a long time.

Someone has started playing music. It is pretty loud. Sounds like one of those cheezy-plastic pop bands of the west. Many people in the compartment are singing to it.

I am now in Hebey. A province next to Beijing. Fertile, flat and flourishing. From the window it looks like the northern plains of India. After living in Canada for a few years I am used to seeing the unused lands with the jungles and shrubs. But here, lands are all occupied and being manipulated. Agriculture, multilane highways or construction. I hope it changes in Qinghai.

The girl in front of me has opened a packet of some sort of chips. It smells like ass. The guy next to her has yellow teeth. He is the brother and the elderly fellow is probably the father. But I can be very wrong. They have been talking since a long time. As a matter of fact they have been talking since the train left Beijing West Train Station. As a matter of fact most of the people here are chatting. Loudly. Still I do not feel distrubed. It is like the white noise of the background. I don't understand it.

It is 3:30. The first vendor is here. guess what is she selling. Fried Chicen feet. where is my camera... OH shit. i got to goto the washroom. Laters.