I Grew My Boobs in China (16 page)

“Longji,” he told me.

“Ahh, Longji” The word rolled off my tongue and took flight in the wind as I soaked up the calmness of the setting around me. The sun shone down in bright rays between wispy, early clouds.

Having been dropped off at the edge of the village, we had to walk the rest of the way. Aside from British Columbia’s Whistler Village that was lined with glossy, four star hotels packed with tourists and skiers, I had never seen a village prior to this trip. Tucked away in the foothills, today’s destination exactly replicated an authentic “village” straight out of my childhood fantasies or from the movies, a place where grassy trails are explored only by horseback or on foot. It matched my impression of Tolkien’s famous hobbit Shire. Wooden cottages with black, shingled roofs stood on stilts, and bundles of yellow corn cobs dried as they hung from wooden balconies. Each bend took me deeper still into favourite, long-held fantasies.

“We’re going to be hiking pretty far to get a view of this place. Longji means Dragon’s Spine in Chinese,” Ammon said, sharing his facts for the day. “The terraces you’ve been seeing – you know, the rice fields everywhere? Well, Longji is, like, the ultimate terracing creation. It began back in the days when …” Ammon droned on as he led us through the sleepy village.

An older man who was about my size was leaning over a trough by the road holding a bluish bird resembling a turkey in his fist. His other hand displayed a menacing knife.

“… and the villagers still, to this day …” I honestly tried to listen to Ammon. I tried to hear his words, but I could not take my eyes off the man and his bird. With one stroke, he sliced into its flimsy neck, folding it back nearly in half. Both bird and knife now glistened a bright red in the sunlight, and I felt my chin quivering slightly.

“… ancient ways, and they make their living that way,” Ammon continued.

“They certainly do,” I said.

“Do what?” Bree asked, looking around at me questioningly, but we had already passed the scene that was forever burned into my memory.

“Live off the land the same way they did in ancient days. Can you imagine, Bree?” I said, “This is how they LIVE! It’s not all staged for us. This is home for them. They’ve probably never seen a shopping mall, EVER!”

“Yah. That’s really something,” she agreed.

“But that’s what’s so great about it, see? It’s not the olden days!” Ammon stated, pleased that we were finally getting it. But Bree had already wandered off into her own mental world, as had I. All I could see was my last glimpse of that helpless bird. The man had been squatting over the feathery, almost dead creature. The image of a few spurts of blood accompanying its final twitches lingered, leaving me weak in the stomach. I’d had surprisingly little previous exposure to death.
But death is a natural part of life,
I told myself as I tried to take control of my impractical emotions.
A normal cycle. A normal reality, but it’s impacting me so much. I eat meat almost every day, but I guess I’ve never stopped to think that something bled out and suffered and died before it got to my plate. Of course, I always knew that, but it’s different when you actually see it.
I eventually began to wonder exactly who I was trying to convince.

“Savannah!” Ammon called from ahead. “Where are you at? Were you listening?”

“Yah, yah. Six-hundred years old,” I managed to spit out, indicating that I had been listening, at least on one level. We had already trudged through the weathered trails and up past the moss-shingled homes, tripping over chickens that bolted out from behind wood stacks and bushes. The air was filled with the wholesome sounds of children’s laughter, cocky roosters crowing, and the faint wisps of horsetails swatting flies. A babbling brook trickled right through the steep village, and knotted wood bridges exhibited gnarled faces as they sprawled across whispering streams. Ducks were held captive in barred cages placed in the shallow, gently flowing waters. It was a clean, easy way to store the birds, which were also undoubtedly being fattened up so they could be eaten or sold. We continued to hike ever higher, and we’d fallen into a thirty-minute spell of silence before I finally gave in to my thirst.

“Whoa, Bree! Wait up,” I called, desperately. “Give us the water before you run ahead.”

“Seriously, why am I carrying all this stuff?” she demanded. Her athletic training had primed her nicely for this kind of work out, and she was nowhere near as red-faced or breathless as me.

“ ’Cause you’re the one with the bag,” Mom said.

“I was wondering why you even took it to begin with,” I said bending over and placing my hands on my thighs to catch my breath. “Damn! I feel like a bloody old man.”

“Hey! Language!” Mom snapped.

“Ammon has a bag, too,” Bree pointed out.

“Yah, but you’re the tough one. Remember?” Ammon said, conveniently taking advantage of her competitive nature.

“Fine, I’ll take a hit for the team,” she said proudly. “I never go anywhere without my bag! This thing is my life! I have everything in here!” She reached behind her to pat it reassuringly.

“After what I saw coming out of your storage buckets at home, I don’t doubt you do,” I said. Swinging her bag over her right shoulder, she opened it and grabbed the bottle of water. It wasn’t just since the trip that she had started carrying the heavy load on her back; she had carried a bag around for as long as I could remember to hold whatever loose ends she picked up throughout the course of her life.

“I’ve had this same bag for nine years. It’s awesome!!” she said, passing me the bottle.

We really only needed Ammon’s daypack to hold our water, playing cards and score sheet, compass, and guidebook, but Bree still insisted on bringing hers. There was no separating the girl from her carry-all. I guess, in a way, she used it as her shield and comfort in the world, the same way my “puffy jacket” had served a similar need for me when I was in school.

Tilting my head back to glug down the water, I nearly spat it out and exclaimed, “Oh gross!!! It’s warm.”

“Better get used to it,” Ammon chuckled, grabbing it from my hand as soon as I caught up to him.

“Oh, right. Get used to it, get used to it, get used to it,” I sang with a smile, waving my hand in the air. “That’s your answer to everything,” I grumbled, changing my tune and glaring at his back as he walked off, but I was soon distracted by the sights around me.

Some farmers were working their rice patties with bare hands. Others carried bamboo poles with buckets hanging from both ends across one shoulder. As we approached, some raised their heads enough to expose round and generally worn faces, their cone-shaped hats providing protection from the ever-present sun.

I smiled at many, finding it ironic that we were looking at them in awe while
we
were the real spectacle in this land, sporting our baseball caps and shiny new hiking boots as we did. The farmers were knee deep in the pools of water from which little sprouts of green peeked. It occurred to me that we did not touch the earth in quite the same way they did.

As the incline became steeper and more strenuous, Mom and I began to fall behind. Bree and Ammon had finally disappeared around a bend. Ammon’s longer legs never seemed to stop Bree from trying to prove she was stronger and more athletic. Mom and I slowed down and occasionally stopped, hands on our hips, to gasp between sentences. It would probably take a day or two to decide if my red face was the result of sunburn or exertion.

Forty-five minutes and thousands of steps later, we reached the top where Bree and Ammon stood triumphantly. When I finally reached the edge and hung my head over, I understood their joyful expressions. Below us was a magnificent vista blending the best of humankind and nature. Balancing on that rim, I became one with history.
Maintained, cultivated, and passed down through generations.
Ammon’s words echoed in my brain.
Built six-hundred years ago, it took three-hundred years to complete this riveting masterpiece.
The hundreds of tiers carved into the mountainsides looked like the ancient steps of an Aztec pyramid and added visual exhaustion to my physical fatigue.
A beautiful system engendered by some historical genius. I’m not so sure about Dragon Spine, but some mythical creature must surely be running this show.
Nonetheless, I envisioned a dragon with rippling skin and shiny green scales curling around the mountains like a guardian with one golden, burning eye keeping constant watch over his minions as they’d worked to create this functional masterpiece of balance and harmony.

Night was falling and the light was fading fast, forcing us to retreat or face a long, dark journey. My final, stunning view was of each tiered pool reflecting the dying sunlight, like a million mirrors.
I wouldn’t have missed this.I would walk that walk again,
I thought, my cheeks still flushed.

Thoughts occurred to me during the strenuous descent that had never surfaced before. What we’d seen over the past few days revealed so clearly what Ammon had been trying to get across. It felt as if my text books had come to life. We had gotten a taste of what life is really like for the people in rural China. They have families, and everyone plays a role in keeping them together. Although the rituals and culture they relied on to do that were vastly different from my own, they were just
people,
living and working to provide the essentials of life. Despite my fears and prior judgments, I slowly began to see that, in the end, they were no different from us; their wants and needs were the same. Still, I couldn't imagine living their lives for one day!

Chapter 17

Rails and Trails

I was wandering endlessly and searching aimlessly when I glimpsed a tall, luminous mansion hovering above a hill. A door opened high above, mysteriously welcoming me in. Could this be it? Oh how I want to be out of this cool darkness. I know this place. The wind gripped my hair, pulling me backwards as a rope ladder was thrown down, rapidly unraveling and twisting in the breeze. I craned my neck backwards to take in the sight. There has to be a place in there where I can lay my weary head. A whirling tunnel of orange leaves appeared, rapidly changing to brown as they passed me. As I took a first, faltering step towards the house, I heard Ammon’s impatient wakeup call.

“Wharaahharg,” I groaned, holding a hand out, reaching and pushing in unison to try to salvage what was left of my dream. That restful place was still there. I could still get to it, if only he’d leave me alone.

“What is she doing?” his distant voice interrupted again, but I stubbornly held on to my semi-conscious state.

“Go whack your sister,” it came again.
Oh, please, just go away
, I mentally pleaded with him. I tried to raise my legs, but they felt immovable, like metal on a magnetic surface. I could not escape, could not move fast enough in this other world.

“We’re leaving. C’mon,” he said, and with that, I lost it! The dream was gone, and yet the scenario I was waking up to was no more real than the one I’d inhabited just moments before – until the worries resurrected themselves, that is.

“Nooo, no, no!” I moaned. The hotel’s five flights of stairs, among other irritants, had definitely caught up with me. My legs were dead weights, and my butt felt like it must be scabbed over from miles of biking. I felt bruised everywhere. I reached behind to pat my aching bottom and then crawled off the mattress onto the tile floor to cool my burning skin.

“I hate mornings!!!” I said as I banged my head on the floor beside the pillow I’d slyly dragged with me.

“OOH, OOH, my feet,” I whimpered. They felt like crushed sacks of bone.

“Well, we have a bus to catch,” Mom said, a hint of compassion in her voice.

“Oohhh! I really can’t,” I continued, still hoping against hope that Ammon would relent, just this once.

“GET UP,” he barked in a distinctly unsympathetic tone. I responded with a hate-filled look from under my pillow, but I finally caved and got up. Today, we had to travel by bus to a bigger city, Guilin, where we could catch a train to a city called Kunming. For me, this meant nothing more than hoisting our bags on and off several times and carrying them between stations and crowds, an itinerary that translated to
my body is going to kill,
which translated to
I
seriously
do not want to go anywhere.

“Oh c’mon, Savannah. You don’t want to miss your first train ride,” Mom said with her hands on her hips.

“Yes, actually I do. Very much so,” I told her bluntly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The platform rumbled beneath me as the train drew near. The sound was enough to rattle most anything, including my teeth. Never before had I felt the roar of this massive snake, beating and breathing from the rails as it slowed to a stop. With one foot on the lower rung, I grabbed the wide metal handles on either side of the open door. Chipped green paint scratched my palms as my weight hung from my skinny arms. Bree’s herculean shove from behind catapulted me and my giant backpack to the top of the metal ladder. When I popped into the crammed entryway, I saw to the left the accordion-like connector between the two carriages. To my right, two familiar backpacks were making their way down the narrow aisle. I reached back to take Bree’s hand and followed them. On one side, we passed open-ended compartments with big windows. Three-tiered bunk beds hugged each wall, leaving barely enough space to squeeze in on the upper levels. On my right were bunk beds placed end to end that stretched lengthwise along the windows. Midway down the aisle, Ammon claimed one of the six available sleeping compartments.

“Here, give me your bag,” he said as he reached out to help me. Squeezing into the small aisle space, I managed to turn my back towards him so he could take it off me. Doing the same for everyone, he placed the bags underneath the green vinyl benches.