Tagged with bicycle

28a jiangyou

When we got off the train it was a bit earlier than scheduled, so we had a few minutes in the dark outside the train station before Todd showed up. There wasn’t anyone trying to take us anywhere which was nice, peaceful. We could idly guess if Todd was at the Jiu Dian or the Bing Guan. It turned out he was at the Bing Guan which wasn’t as seedy as it appeared at first glance. Even silhouetted in mercury vapour you could tell when Todd was coming. His height helps. And his ambling kind of walk. And his jacket. He arrived and we headed back to his room for chatting purposes.

We ranged over a host of subjects including Neil Gaiman and his time in China with Todd, what’s been happening on my travels and stories of library paging, which Todd did all through high school. Deb later revealed that she’d been a page too, as had Michelle and Phil Bender. Very strange but indicative of what a transitory job this can be. Good to know I guess.

After an hour and a half (the electronic chimes following the pattern of the bells at St. John’s college only began marking the hours at 7am) we got in a couple of cabs to head down to the college. Oh, right we picked up James & Michelle & Deb too. James is so easy for me to get along with, or at least be clever with, which may only be a substitute. Once here we met Darryl and had breakfast and sat. We talked cameras and stories were shared about whatever. “When spring comes the pretty girls come out,” said someone who was quoting their students. “Just add water,” someone else added. “And evening is when the pregnant women come out,” said another person. “Just add…” said I. Chuckles abounded.

It felt very natural hanging around here with these people. Lots like I’d never left. Holly said it’s taken her a few years for her to realize this is her family. Maybe she’s right. Maybe we needed this time this longer term. But that’s just a couple of friendships. I don’t know where I’m going with this. All this talk in the next room (Julie’s asking Catherine if the guys feel any connection between their personal lives and their Christian lives. Now she’s asking “Why have we allowed society to value what success is?) makes me worry I’m not done with the past that may not be done with me.

I met William this morning and though Holly tells me our theology is vastly different and I shouldn’t ask what he’s reading if I don’t want to get angry, I like him. He’s got this grinning laugh and joking manner I get along well with. He’s sort of a funnier Jared, or at least trying to be. And he’s got that Sean loudness to him to talk back to the starers and Nihaoers which I like. It makes me laugh which is all I really want. I feel like (theology aside) we could have been great friends if our CEE/MPC times had overlapped. Way more than me and Dan. This afternoon he was talking about his classes and what is good and what his troubles are and my brain just shuts off. Maybe it’s that he’s boring. I don’t quite know. We should be better friends. We have similar interests. But I suppose interests aren’t everything.

William led the bike tour of Jiangyou after much searching for bicycles. The place with the tandem and tridem bikes had already rented out their tallest ones. At another place “less than a mile” up the road we dug through the tarps and back rooms for suitable cycles. They weren’t as good as they could have been but they were worth the 1RMB ($0.17) I paid for the afternoon. We rode through muck and up roads through canola fields (small ones, dare I use the word agrarian?), William guiding us on the route he’d planned out the week before. I love Chinese bicycles in their gearlessness and knee-hurtingness. We can go slowly and not worry.

We curved by the coal power plant with its huge cooling towers (I was singing that song from the Simpsons power plant strike “And we’ll march day and night/by the old cooling tower/They have the plan/but we have the power” over and over while we stopped in our flocks and took pictures.) We arrived at a soysauce plant and Phil tried to get samples and Holly got used to Sichuanhua.

It feels really a lot like spring when you ride a bicycle through fields. I love that and can’t wait for spring to happen in Winnipeg. This is my extra spring. And it’s out here in the country, the healthy (though smoggy) country. There’s a dedicated steam train for the coal power plant that goes in or out at least once an hour. The first time it steamed through the flock of waiguoren to the crossing made me feel like part of a flock of waiguoren.

And we passed a bridge/pipeline crossing the river and went to William’s soccer field and got back to the school. All pictured up and ready to eat at the Christian Lady’s restaurant. Which was great. We eat so much for so little money and at the end the Jia Chang Doufu arrives, mercifully unsweet.

In the afternoon I found where I was sleeping and hung around with Dan. When we headed out to see downtown Jiangyou we occupied the back of the bus and William played tourguide and yields through stop signs and the Mall Mart. We wandered through the church behind the Mall Mart and the markets and saw the Car Bar where they may stage boxing or ultimate fighting. There’s a park along the canal where we saw a Tibetan guy in a cowboy hat hawking medicines to people with hands open empty plastic bags. I wasn’t allowed to take pictures of them and later Holly talked to someone and only found out they were from Tibet. Then we headed through winding markets with shoes and locks and stuff down to the statue of Li Bai who never refused wine. Because of his Taoist inclinations.

Dinner at a Muslim restaurant after losing everybody. We certainly are a group that doesn’t wait around for everyone to be ready. Dan was in the bathroom and emerged to find an empty apartment when the downtown excursion had begun. At Li Bai after examining the benches with no seats, only bolts Dan and I looked up and saw a receding cloud of foreigners. We caught up and left Darryl behind and then when we hit the canal we lost the Benders as well. We met up with William who’d gone to find Deb. And eventually we were in contact with everyone and ate another huge heap of food. My guts are so full of Sichuanny goodness.

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the interesting part of my walk to work

Portage and Colony is just the kind of intersection where you expect a guy to careen around the sidewalk on his bicycle in the the snow. So it’s unsurprising when … up over the curb and into it and almost down and swerve and almost but not quite and then oh no … there he is, wiped out.

I’m the only one there so I stop sort of half-turned and ask if he’s all right. He slurs back at me “Don’tworryI’musedtoit,” while he blows on his bloodied up palms. Walking on, I keep my eyes open for the kind of dog that bites.

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mom’s new wheels

My mom won a sweet sweet bike the other day at her office Xmas party. It’s blue and shiny and is like the Harley (or possibly Vincent Black Shadow) of bicycles. I had to ride it to my house from her office last night, because it was too much of a bicycle to be carried around in the back of a truck made of Lego. It fought and rebelled and forced me to swear at it a lot. If you come to the party at my house tonight, you will see this bicycle. I have a bucket ready to collect your drool.

Speaking of which, there’s a party at our house tonight. Rachael won’t be there, if that’s a drawing point, and frankly, I can’t see why it wouldn’t be.

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you can’t both be wedge; you can’t both be luke

Remember back in elementary school when they taught you all about bicycle safety? Older readers who were thrown in front of traffic on two wheels might not, but I grew up in the ’80s, and we got this stuff all the time (though I’m still a touch old to be part of the “wearing a helmet is natural” generation). It was all about defensive riding to stay safe.

“Suspect everyone is a raving maniac out to destroy you and your fragile little contraption!” they would scream, waving placards of malicious drivers opening their trunks to dump loads of watermelons at 90kmh on the cyclist who came too close. “Examine every parked car you pass to make sure the driver isn’t about to open the door or stick a cricket bat out the window” (I swear that before going to India I thought that was the only use for a cricket bat. Well, that and marmot wrangling.)

I’m sure you can tell where this story is going.

Ning Hua and I rented bikes and took to the streets this afternoon. Every bit of that grade-school knowledge came screaming back. I was seeing the people on the street drawn in safety cartoon fashion as I hurtled downhill on a bike with very poor brakes.

See, in most of China bicycles are common. That’s why Ning Hua wanted to go biking; it had been a while and it’s something he likes to do back home. Here in Wanzhou bikes are strange creatures that no one ever encounters. We were riding in a remote area of the city and I’m sure half the stares I got were at the bike and not me (see that? it’s the one not-entirely true statement in this post – unless this is).

The reason no one bikes here is the mountains (and today my calves are insisting they aren’t hills). Normally I’m right with those non-cyclists. I’m a Winnipeg cyclist; I like my mountain biking on the flattest terrain possible. On a windless day. A wind that changes direction and pushes me both ways is even better. But the weather was awesome and I’d been inside all morning so I was lured out.

Now, Ning Hua is a nice kid but he has no idea how to ride bikes with a person. When two people are cycling in traffic, you have to pick one person and say “You’re Rogue Leader. Go!” This is the person who knows where they’re going and can blaze a trail when needed. This person decides when to ride two abreast and talk but can jump into single file when traffic gets hectic. Ning Hua utterly sucked at leading.

He kept on slowing down so his rear tire would come millimetres from clipping my front when he swerved out into traffic. Then he would stop right at the bottom of a hill to make sure I was still with him, so all the momentum we’d gained got left there. But he did set a nice leisurely pace which is the main reason I won’t be in traction tomorrow.

As an aside, Reyn is a really good Rogue Leader. He keeps track of his wingman and doesn’t ride like an idiot. My only problem with him is he’s too damned fit, and I have to kill myself to keep up. And my mom works this system very well; heck, she taught it to me. She used to be the leader but now that’s my job. I always push myself too hard with her too, because she’s biking “for exercise” so I can’t just lollygag and let her have an easy time of it. I have to remind her that she’s not 22 anymore.

I didn’t want to be the leader for the first half mainly because I was getting used to the bike. I love my bike at home and know what I can do with it: how close I can cut corners, what my stopping distance is, all that. This thing was a strange contraption that needed testing.

For a city with all these hills you’d think brakes would be a priority. Mine worked, but it took incredible finger strength to get them to close tightly. And it didn’t help that the bike itself weighs a tonne and a half, which adds greatly to the hurtleability factor in descending (and the sisyphysicality of climbing). I was also getting used to the cars and doing the whole “ride against traffic down Wanzhou’s busiest one way street” thing. And my gears had a very narrow (but thankfully middling) range of usability.

Coming back, though, I was comfortable enough to take over. The problem here was that Ning Hua wasn’t comfortable with the paths I was choosing and we kept on clashing. We had a nice little discussion on our differing cycling philosophies in the middle of about a million taxis and buses trying their damnedest to get in our ways.

His philosophy (which shouldn’t be taken as some general Chinese response to power) was that you let cars do whatever they’re going to do because they’ll hurt you if you don’t. Pedestrians on the other hand are responsible for their own welfare as you heedlessly zoom through crosswalks. (See? No allegory at all.)

My view is that you have to stop for pedestrians because they’re more likely to get hurt if you make a mistake. And you tell the cars to fuck themselves sideways because you can’t hurt them. You have to argue from a position of weakness. Make them back off through fear of hurting you, because how are you possibly going to hurt them? As a cyclist you are the potential victim. So it’s fine to smack the hood of a car that is trying to turn right in front of you. In Canada, I lose more waterbottles from throwing them at cars who cut me off. I also had to explain that I wasn’t trying to represent all Canadians with this (or be allegorical in any way), because he tends to take things that way.

(Greatest inspiration for this philosophy, especially as it pertains to public safety issues: Dave Foley’s “Dear guy I clotheslined while you were riding your bike on the sidewalk” sketch. And, y’know, all those non-violent resistance people.)

By the time we got back and dropped off the bikes back at the saddest roller rink in the world we’d been gone for almost three hours and owed the guy $2.50CDN. Not too shabby for a death defying adventure in cross-cultural philosophy of leadership.

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