The Curse of Lin (Part 2)

Although we missed the last bus back to our town and the bus station was closing up, the presiding guard told us of another station that would have a bus to our city until 7 pm.  We began our journey in search of that station, all the while wishing either of us could better understand the local dialect.  As we ran through CQ city, we passed countless American chains - Starbucks, McDonald's, KFC, Pizza Hut - and each time, a small piece of me died...knowing that I could not stop and partake of anything remotely familiar.  We finally reached the other station with plenty of time to spare - at least a full 15 minutes - and rushed to the counter to buy our tickets.  The agent informed us that they were sold out and I grew concerned that my student would have a panic attack (or full-fledged nervous breakdown).  She felt fully responsible and could not believe that she was failing her teacher in such a way.  I did my best to reassure her and convince her that we should stop to eat (I hadn't had beef in ages and there was a McDonald's in the bus station for crying out loud!).


As we headed upstairs to eat, I called a friend who was familiar with CQ and she suggested we just get a hotel for the night because trying to get out of the city would now be much too complicated for someone who does not speak the local dialect.  She gave us instructions on finding a cab to a nearby hotel and I went on to order some food while my student lamented the death of her cell phone battery.  Shortly after receiving our food, an employee informed us that we must leave because the gates to the bus station would soon be locked.  I had never in my life been kicked out of a McDonald's up until that point - things truly looked desolate.  We ventured out of the station and into the dark, rainy night, in search of a taxi that could take us to the hotel, but none of them understood our destination.  Finally, a tuktuk driver registered the Mandarin words and confirmed that he knew where we wanted to go.

For those of you that have never seen a tuktuk, this should give you an idea of what a brand, new one looks like on a cheerfully bright, sunny day (quite the contrast to our experience):

As I sat in the back of the damp, dark tuktuk slowly chewing my cold, soggy french fries, I took a moment to evaluate the choices that had brought me to this point in my life.  No direct conclusions were reached.  A few short minutes later, we saw the gleaming lights of the 7 Days Inn and prematurely rejoiced.

We went into the nice, warm lobby and looked to each other in confusion as the desk clerk used the local language to ask if we had a reservation.  Switching to Mandarin, it became clear that we needed a room for the night and things were going quite well until she asked for our ID.  My...ID.  My passport.  That I had safely left in the pocket of my other purse while choosing a more convenient bag earlier that morning.  At home.  Where I could not get to.  And therefore needed a room to stay the night in CQ city.  Oy.  There was simply nothing that could be done - it is a requirement to register any foreign guests with the local PSB and they could not effectively do so without my passport.  Upon being struck with the full realization of the desperation of our circumstances, I lowered my head to my hands.  And laughed.  I had a good long chuckle at the pure incredibility of the day and everything in it, at the seemingly hopeless situation we now found ourselves in, at the lack of any solutions happily presenting themselves, at it all.

I got my friend familiar with CQ city back on the line while my student used the hotel's electricity to recharge her phone.  My friend spoke with the clerk about arranging a private car back to our city and hung up, but the clerk was then unable to find a driver willing to make the trip.  I believe it was somewhere around that point that my poor student fell into hysterics.  I tried, rather unsuccessfully, to comfort her as she sobbed and as the legitimate guests of the hotel bustled in and out of the lobby while looking on with a sort of detached interest.  As my student's phone charged enough to power on, it began to ring incessantly.  She answered and sobbed even deeper while trying to get it together enough to communicate effectively with whoever was on the other end of the line.  As she hung up, she informed me that a way had been made - that her Chinese English teacher, Grace, and boyfriend were in town and about to head back to our town in the boyfriend's car, but the hotel where we were waiting was on their way and they would arrive to meet us shortly.

This now marks the second time in my life that I have been so sweetly, inexplicably, and undeservedly saved by Grace when all seemed lost beyond redemption.