Every problem that you encounter in life has a certain number of solutions available to you at a given time, in a given place. One thing that I’m starting to get used to over here is the shift in available options.
For example, people need to get to work. In New York, I solved that problem by taking a ridiculous amount of back-tracking subways (namely the F to the JMZ to the 4,5 at Brooklyn Bridge.) Taxi, while it exists, was not an option for me almost at any time.
Here, I ride my bike. This 20 minute ride is the best option, even when cabs are affordable. It only costs 16 RMB to get to work, which is a little over $2. That may seem like a viable option, if only there were any cabs to get. In the good times I still had to leave my house at 6:45 instead of 7:10, but the last few times I tried (for Peppito) the lack of cabs left me terrified by the side of the road, even contemplating the black cabs that really should never be an option. Also, it’s strange to write out, (especially to Americans,) but I refuse to pay 16 RMB to get to and from school every day!
So when both Kelly’s fix and her regular bike got flat tires one week, we again looked at our options. We decided the only thing to do would be to ride one bike to school. The model for this, of course, is what we’ve seen in China. I talked about it briefly in my “experience” back in September, when everything was beyond new and strange. My landlord rode my bike while I sat on the back, side-saddle and afraid to hold on tightly for dear life.
Kelly and I had tried it a few times, just for fun mostly, and once when Kelly’s bike had been left near the subway in Wudaokou. Nevertheless, we decided to try and make it all the way to work. I can’t be the bike rider. I fall over hopelessly to one side of another as soon as she gets on. The skill I do bring to the act is a sense of balance, thank you ballet. My job is basically to sit straight without leaning, to hold my legs up so that they don’t rub the bike, and to not freak out and cringe when it looks like my knees are about to get cut off by a pole, bike, or bus. At least with Kelly, I can hold on without fear of offending her.
What we thought of as a one-day solution (until Kelly could bring her bike to the bike doctor on our street)turned out to be a week-long expat parade. I say this because, even though it is a very common way for Chinese people to get around, it is very rare to find it with non-Chinese-looking folk. I assumed this was true, but I didn’t realize how strange a spectacle it was until I started riding. Suddenly people were stopping and staring, pointing and laughing, and elbowing each other to look. By the third day I felt I should have brought candy or goodie bags to start throwing to the crowds like a proper parade.
When I asked my assistant L, about it, I asked if she did it with her husband. “All the time,” she replied.
“Why do you think people are looking at us when we do it?” I asked.
“I don’t know… they’ve never seen this,” she replied.
That’s right, people. I’m breaking ground all over the place on this side of the world!
2011 lao wai 2-person bike race, here we come!
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