From a stone courtyard at the base of the Great Wall of China, I was staring at one of the wonders of the world. Near Beijing, the wall had been restored and we had just hiked up a few miles over an uneven stone pathway and then back down. This had been surprisingly strenuous, even though I was used to running or riding my bike back in Idaho. MK did not pause to recover from hiking and took off for another international shopping experience. I chose to sit and study the wall and enjoy a bottle of Chinese spring water. Estimates of its length vary from 1,500 to 5,000 miles, but an archaeological survey carried out in 2012 by China’s State Administration of Cultural Heritage suggested the wall is more than double that length: some 13,000 miles long -- four times the length of the continental United States. My gaze was distracted by a child who looked like she was in her element. Indeed she was -- her ancestors had built the wall.
Somewhere south of five years old, her face might as well have been on the cover of National Geographic. Jet-black straight hair framed her pale face and flashing eyes. Her oriental silk brocade dress was offset by pink Mary Jane slippers for the perfect little Chinese girl look. The moment she thought that I was looking back at her, she glanced away or ducked behind her mother’s skirt, only to stare out at me from the other side -- she was as curious about me as I was about her. Her shy, quizzical look was broken by a fleeting smile whenever she thought I may have caught her looking at me. Her parents remained aloof, however, her father put his arm on her shoulder and gently guided her back to stand in front of him as they waited for something. Despite the language and cultural barriers, I had the sense that we were all comfortable observing each other -- from a distance.
Upon her return, I pointed out the little girl by the wall to MK, who also found her to be charming. She worried that our game of peek-a-boo might be making her parents nervous. I wondered if Chinese parents teach their children the same things we do about being careful with strangers.
Our Chinese guide saw what was going on and was not concerned. He was reassuring and told me that he knew from their accents, that these people were from deep in the heart of mainland China. Then he told me I was probably the first white person that this little girl had ever seen. Ohhhhh. I could tell from the look on her face that he was right -- I was an alien.
Two days later, riding on the hotel shuttle from LAX. I became aware that I could now clearly understand each of the half-dozen unbridled American conversations going on around us. Was I eavesdropping or just overhearing? It didn’t really matter, I wasn’t listening for information. I could understand everything these people were saying, and I knew right away that none of them were at all curious about me, and no one wanted to play peek-a-boo.
Ever vigilant,
RT
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