It was a pleasant night; my neighbors were silent. Since China has only one time zone, sunrise is at 8:30 a.m. (sunset: 7:13 p.m., compared to Burgas or Rome—at the same latitude: 7:30 a.m.–6:15 p.m.).
Ben had told me that his friend had sent my jacket to the hostel last night, but it should arrive between 10 and 11 a.m. So I sat down in the lounge to wait for it and found a Lonely Planet for Central Asia on the 99% Chinese bookshelf! I was able to make some travel arrangements for Turkmenistan.
For most of this trip, my digestion wasn’t optimal, even though I avoided spicy food as much as possible. But it had already become more difficult during the train ride (remember—bring your own!), and it was still the same today.
So I decided to eat plain rice, maybe with carrots. The hostel manager confirmed I could get that at a restaurant on the ground floor (it’s a tall skyscraper, and the ground floor is a ring of shops and restaurants surrounding the building).
First, I went to buy carrots and was surprised that the woman there spoke English. Two large carrots cost 1y (12 cents), so I bought some more old brown bananas. As I left, she even apologized for her English, although I should have apologized for my nonexistent Chinese.
Then I went to a restaurant and ordered plain rice. The owner showed me to a table, poured me tea, and gave me a menu in English! There was something with rice and sliced potatoes, so I thought I could stay to eat (I had brought a takeaway box) since he was so accommodating. Then he brought a large plate full of rice, sliced potatoes, some vegetables, and… it was a bit spicy. With plenty of tea, it was manageable for me, but my strategy of a cleaning day was slightly changed. I needed two bananas to soothe my lips, and then there was no space left for the carrots.
That afternoon, I asked again if the jacket had finally arrived, and the manager also asked. So I pestered Ben again, he sent an updated delivery slip, and the manager called a number. A driver said he’d be there in 30 minutes. I was so relieved that I grabbed the guitar he’d handed me yesterday. I’d been telling my colleague from school how embarrassing it was to be asked to play something from Austria in such a situation, and I just couldn’t think of anything. She suggested “Das Brünnerle,” a simple folk song. Now I sang it, relieved about my jacket. The manager insisted on a microphone, and that’s how I heard how inaccurate my intonation was—I need to practice! (I hadn’t sung in months and also before I wasn’t the best trained singer.)
After that, I improvised, and more men arrived, appreciating it by starting to smoke (and offering cigarettes). After a while, when they started talking to each other, I played more and more quietly until I thought I could escape unnoticed into a room with air to breathe.
The jacket didn’t arrive, so I had to ask Ben again. The result: The delivery man had been there, called, and instead of speaking to the manager, he spoke to a confused lady, so he had to leave. I’ve now “explained” to her what’s going on (actually, my phone did it, and Chinese translation is usually awkward), and she also spoke to the delivery man, and the next appointment is tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. I’ll just mention that I’m feeling uneasy until this is a success story.