The Invisible Man

We took a rest day today. Ann and I sat in our dingy little hostel room and did nothing all day until we were too hungry to stay put and we had to go out into the world. Though, I didn’t really do nothing. I watched ‘The Secret Life of Walter Mitty’ for the 1,000^th time and talked to my family for an hour. I’m also re-growing skin on my toe (which is hard work, believe me). I’ve never seen a blister this bad. When it first developed a few days ago, I looked at my toe and almost immediately threw up. So, needless to say, it was nice to not walk on my zombie foot again today. It is healing, and today is the first day since the blister developed that I can walk without limping.  As Ann worked on her daily blog (Annimal is much better at writing every day than I am. Consistency is a virtue that I lack) she turned to me and asked me a question. She asked which experience was more difficult for me: this past week, or the second day of the journey when I was emotional, tired, and hung-over. After giving it thorough thought, I decided that this past

week was more miserable because it was actual physical misery. Picture this. On the cold day that my blister started, we walked 26 kilometers in the rain. As I outlined in my previous post, we couldn’t find a hotel or even a warm restaurant to sit in while we figured out what to do. I was drenched, freezing, and saw no relief in the immediate future. Beyond that, I didn’t have the language skills to help the situation. The best thing I could do was sit shivering in my wet clothes in the dark, chilly, concrete restaurant and wait for Ann to sort it out. There was literally nothing I could do to help my situation improve. What an awful feeling that was. Through my misery, I gained more of something valuable. It’s something the world needs more of; it’s empathy. On the morning of the really bad day- before my own misery set in- I saw a man whom nobody else saw. He was crouched on the side of the highway opposite us. At first I thought he was a pile of rubbish, as there are many of those near the highway. Contrary to this belief, he wasn’t rubbish. I saw the man with a dirty blanket draped over him, his head hung low and covered by long, dark hair that was matted over his face. I called ahead to Ann, who stopped for me to untie our bag of fruit from her trailer. I crossed the highway and walked up to the heap of a man. He didn’t lift his head when I approached. Without knowing a thing about him, I could see that this was a human who was defeated by life. As I got closer, I saw that under the blanket the man was completely naked. I began to feel afraid. I have enough experience with people with mental illness to know that you can never be too sure what his or her next move might be. But I couldn’t walk away without completing my mission. I

One of the invisible people we've seen 

wanted to give the man food, yes; but beyond that, I wanted him to receive an important message- one that everybody needs to hear, and few people stop long enough to communicate. The message is “I see you and I care about you”. This is a simple message that I suspect this man hadn’t heard in a long time, if ever.  I left the bag of fruit at the feet of the invisible man and walked back across the highway with tears in my eyes. For the next few kilometers, I thought about the man and with each question that popped into my head, my heart broke a little bit more. Does he have anyone to take care of him? Where is his family? Does his family see him like this? Has he hurt anybody? How long can he live like this? Will anyone ever help him? Has he ever experienced happiness?

My last course in college was a shadow-ship at a psychiatric penitentiary for the ‘criminally insane’- a state hospital in California. When I saw the naked man on the highway, I was reminded of the men I met that summer in California. Many of the men at the penitentiary wanted so desperately to get out of there and to go home. But there were a few who openly expressed that they had no desire to leave the hospital because there they were provided with “three hots and a cot” - three hot meals and a warm place to sleep at night. They had previously experienced the horrors of being homeless, hungry, and, in some

Another man among the rubbish under a bridge

cases, psychotic on the street. They knew what it felt like to be invisible and they saw the psychiatric penitentiary as a haven from that. It’s impossible for me to imagine a life experience so terrible that I would rather dwell in a prison. It breaks my heart to try. All I can say that I’ve been wet, cold, and unable to help myself. And I can tell you that it sucks. really. bad.

 When we finally got to a hotel room at the end of our miserable day, I cried about it. The feelings of helplessness and despair had shaken me. Thankfully, I have not experienced much of this in my life, so these are feelings that are both unfamiliar and unsettling to me. I’d like to keep it that way, if possible.

I’m not sure why the invisible man struck my heart so deeply. I don’t have answers or big political ideas to solve this problem. I don’t even have much of an encouraging message. I suppose being heartbroken sometimes is simply part of the mystery of this trip…the mystery of life. We can choose to ignore it, or we can immerse ourselves in the discomfort, feel it, and let it teach us to be more empathetic. Of course, I choose the latter. Next time you’re faced with this choice, I hope you will too.  

ARRRRGGGHHHHH!

China can be a difficult place to be for a foreigner. It is a culture completely different from the Western world. There are many characteristics to this developing country that are hard to experience as someone who has seen the other side. To begin with, there is a HUGE trash problem here. This is very sad, as China’s scenery is absolutely breathtaking, and almost every inch of

it is littered with trash. As a Colorado girl at heart, and a person who generally appreciates the Earth, such vast litter is a difficult thing to see.

As bad as the trash is, it is the honking that may kill me. I am not an angry person. I usually only get really mad at people who take a shot at my pride and succeed i.e. ex boyfriends. But I tap into a reservoir of anger at every truck driver who drives past us leaning on his horn. The road we’re on now is very wide and newly paved. There is PLENTY of room for two trucks to pass each other and for scooters or walkers to be on the side of the road. However, for some reason unbeknownst to me, these truck drivers feel the need to honk their horn as they pass us. I’m not talking about

a friendly, “Hey, I’m coming through” toot toot. These fuckers put all of their body weight on that horn and they hold it from the time they see us to the time they’re well past us. Sometimes I’ll be turned around to talk to Annimal when one approaches and I’ll catch eyes with the driver through the windshield. I’ll hold eye contact as they drive past, bursting our eardrums with their foghorns. “I hate you. I hate you. I FUCKING HATE YOU SO MUCH!” is what I tell them with my eyes. But I don’t think they can hear me over their blaring horns.

It has been a rough week overall. I’m trying to tell myself that it’s all in my head and that if I change my attitude everything won’t look so dismal. That’s true to an extent. But the throbbing blister that feels as though my right pinky toe has been ripped off says otherwise.

Five weeks into this adventure, the struggle of culture shock has hit me with a vengeance. It all started with the volunteer leader in one of the towns we visited this week. Let’s call him Mr. Lu. Last Friday we rolled into Mr. Lu’s town and took a ride from him once we reached our kilometer goal for the day. He took us to a hotel, then out to dinner with a group of his volunteers. We went to a vegetarian buffet restaurant which was closing, meaning there were only scraps of food left. I didn’t mind because by this point I am so tired of Chinese food that it doesn’t matter whether it looks good or not- I don’t want to eat it. There was a girl from Singapore who spoke English in the group. I talked her ear off throughout dinner and she laughed when I told her how much I wanted ice cream.

“There’s a supermarket in this town that sells Haagen Daz.” She said. “We can go tomorrow since you’re having a rest day.” I wanted to kiss her (but I didn't). We said goodnight to the volunteers and made plans to see them the following day.

The whole crew knocked on our door around lunchtime the next day. We went to a restaurant near our hotel for lunch. As we ate, I started wondering which Haagen Daz flavors the supermarket might have, and what I might choose. My blissful thoughts were interrupted by Singapore girl translating for Mr. Lu.

“Mr. Lu would like to take you both to the train station where our group is volunteering. Would you like to go?” I tried to quickly think of a way to get out of it without being rude.

“Fuck no. This is our day off. Why the fuck would I want to go to a motherfucking train station? I’ve already told you that want ice cream and a massage and a nap” is what I wanted to say. Instead, I said, “We won’t stay long, will we? I still want to go to the supermarket and maybe get a massage. We need to rest this afternoon, too.”

“We won’t stay long.” She assured me. “We’ll stop in for a minute just to see.

We made the quick drive to the train station and AN HOUR AND A HALF

later we still found ourselves there. “Stopping in for a minute just to see” is apparently code for “we’re going to keep you here until you wish you were dead”. We stood around, doing nothing except taking pictures with volunteers. Then we were ushered outside into the rain to do more standing and more nothing.  After the train had come and gone, I started to become extremely agitated. Every time we expressed that we wanted to go, there was something we needed to stay “just a little longer” for. Mr Lu wanted us to stand by the entrance and help people with their bags. Mr. Lu wanted us to go out on the platform in the cold, rainy weather to help show people where to board the train (you board it near the doors). Mr. Lu wanted us to stay a bit longer for a television interview.

“I’m going back to the hotel” I finally told Ann. “Tell homeboy he can either take me, or I’m taking a taxi or walking”. I’d had enough. As I stormed out of the station with Ann behind me, Mr. Lu quickly arranged someone to take us back to our hotel. He seemed upset that we didn’t want to be his prime circus act anymore. Regardless of how pissed he was, nobody was more angry than I was, going back to the room without ice cream. (In hindsight, I know this sounds ridiculous, but I was SO MAD). When we got back to the hotel I went to bed livid, hoping to nap my anger away.

This is just one example of the many frustrations Ann and I have dealt with so far. We have met A TON of extremely helpful volunteers, and a few who used us to push their own agenda or to look important. Yesterday we experienced our worst day so far. It ended with me bawling, curled up into a ball in my sleeping bag. But a while before that we were wet, cold and shit out of luck. After walking 26 kilometers in the rain, we arrived to a small town in the late afternoon. We were cold, I was soaking wet (my ‘waterproof’ jacket was made in China) and I had a blister on my toe that

made it nearly impossible to walk. We stopped at one hotel that wanted to overcharge us, so we decided to keep going. We stopped at another hotel where nobody was present. Weird. We decided on the third hotel and got all the way up to the room and began unpacking our things before being told that there wasn’t any heat or hot water. We got our money back and went back to the first hotel. The boss woman there had apparently changed her mind about wanting to host us, and told us the hotel was now full. Perfect. Defeated, we sat in a cold, concrete restaurant eating steaming noodles while we waited for a miracle. We even ran into a volunteer whom Ann had previously spoken to on the phone. We were sure he would help us. But After Ann asked him for help, he stood up in front of his table full of people and said, “Please call me if you have any difficulties” before turning his back to us.  

On the contrary, there are some great people who have helped astronomically. After the debacle with Mr. Lu, we hesitantly accepted a dinner invitation from a man and his wife who heard we were in the area and wanted to befriend us. They took us to the nicest restaurant in town and expressed how much they admired what we were doing. They were respectful of our time, asking humbly if we would mind stopping quickly to meet their children. It actually was a quick stop and their children were

lovely. They took us to a grocery store that didn’t have Haagen Daz, but it did have snacks and supplies for the road that the family insisted on paying for. These were lovely, respectful people. It’s true that you have to take the good with the bad. Sometimes I need help remembering that the good outweighs the bad, and that the bad days won’t last forever. We've just got to breathe through them.  

Hats Off to Chinese Volunteers

We are out of the Guangdong province! It took us three weeks, but we are finally in Jiangxi, a neighbor to Guangdong. The way we entered this province was quite remarkable. The experience made Day 23 one of my favorite days so far.

On the evening of Day 22 we had dinner and a semi-official meeting with the Nanxion Love Heart Volunteer Association. I know that is their official title because they gave us each a trucker hat with their logo on it. Actually, I pestered them into giving me a hat because they are so dang cool, ranking just below the hats the little Canadians decorated for us with the New Day South kids' names. The Nanxiong volunteer leader is a Buddhist man who has nothing but admiration and encouragement for us. We drank tea, ate dinner, and talked with the group until it was time to find our lodging for the night- a Zhongshan volunteer’s family’s house. We struggled Annimal’s luggage into the trunk of a volunteer’s car and made it to our destination. Tired and sore, we were guided up the stairs to our room that we would share for the night. We opened the door to see a wardrobe, a mirror, an end table, and one bed.

‘Welp, I’ll take this one.’ I said, throwing my pack down to claim my territory. ‘Ann, where are you going to sleep?’

The next morning we met the same Nanxiong volunteers and started walking. Just before noon they led us in a direction different than expected. They took us up a road that connects the Guangdong and

Jiangxi provinces. It was built in 213 B.C. and was once the only road that led from Guangdong to Beijing. As we walked we learned from the volunteers that many scholars and merchants walked this path to Beijing to take important tests or to sell their goods. Even Mr. Zhongshan himself once led his rebel army over those same stones. We dodged tourists, took pictures, and tried to help the volunteers with our bags. The path was very uneven and steep, making it difficult for one man to haul Annimal’s walking trailer up parts of the path. Like a merchant in the old days, he pulled the cart full of goods up the inclines and over the rocky path. I was absolutely in awe of this road. We were walking the same path that a few of the greatest people in Chinese history have walked over. The American in me was reminded that some Chinese people have items in their refrigerators that are older than our entire country. It was a beautiful path made of stones smoothed by heavy use. Rocky walls and clean-smelling greenery enveloped us, adding to the old-

world illusion. Halfway to the top we stopped at a stand selling fresh tofu. I wandered over to a large stone apparatus with white foam coming out of it.

“What IS that?!” I asked in disgust. It was tofu! Actually, it was soybeans being ground by a stone grinder. There was a man turning a large wheel and feeding beans into a hole in the middle. I immediately asked to try, jumping into the ‘driver’s seat’ and turning the wheel around and around. We tried some of the tofu. It was delicious, even though it looked a little bit like baby puke. (Actually it looked a LOT like baby puke). When we reached the top, volunteers from the first town in the Jiangxi province met us. They were very nice men who took our bags from the Guangdong volunteers. We had someone film us with our camera as we walked out of Guangdong. This was a big moment for us. After ‘passing the torch’, the Guangdong volunteers said goodbye. We thanked them profusely and carried on, descending the mountain with our new friends into Jiangxi.

It’s strange and interesting to watch the culture change as we move away from the province we’re both familiar with. Annimal is actually out of her element, now asking people to repeat sentences due to their accents, and eating unfamiliar foods. It’s nice to know that I’m not the only fish out of water.

Volunteers have continued to help us. In fact, we haven’t gone one full day without local volunteers finding us on the road, walking with us, and paying for our snacks, meals, and sometimes even our hotels. Annimal expressed her fear that I might be annoyed by constantly having people around us. But my feelings are on the contrary; I am overjoyed to have company, even though I can’t communicate with them. I simply love the symbolic gesture of people walking with us in support of our goal. And they bring snacks. I like snacks. It’s also entertaining to see how excited and enthusiastic people are to join us. They are so willing to help that they won’t let us do hardly anything ourselves. We have volunteers rinsing our dishes in tea for us before meals, carrying our bags for us (no matter how much we protest), filling our water bottles with

water and our pockets with food, washing our clothes, rubbing our sore muscles, tying our shoes, brushing our hair, and even tucking us in at night. Okay, the last few I made up. But I bet they would if we asked them to. Annimal says their motivation is twofold; 1) They want to help us because they admire what we’re doing and they see how difficult it is, and 2) They want to experience a piece of what it feels like to do what we are doing. No matter their motivation, it is great to have their support. Yesterday Annimal and I were walking with three volunteers from Nankang when we stopped to do an interview for the Ganzhou news. The volunteers were estatic just to be in the background of the camera roll as we talked and walked. After the interview, Annimal and I talked about how amazing it is that this tiny little idea has turned into something SO HUGE that will hopefully inspire SO MANY people to rise above their fears and perceived limitations. As we walked, we were sweating. This was the hottest day we had experienced on The Walk so far. We looked behind us to see the sun shining through the clouds in the most beautiful way. Beams of light shone down from the heavens, blinding our eyes and warming our faces. Annimal said it was Feng Ming shining love and protection down on us. That day we walked 30 kilometers. This is farther than we have ever walked in a day. Maybe it was the little guy in heaven that gave us power. Maybe it was the sunshine and volunteer support. Maybe it was the rice wine. Whatever the reason, we are reaching new heights and we are thankful. 

'Manly Women'- Nuhanzi

Let’s get something straight. Before we left Zhongshan, Ann and I sat down to write a mission statement. In the corner of a coffee shop, we brainstormed and wrote both personal and general goals that we wish to attain throughout this journey. Ann wants to find her voice and become more assertive with her wants, opinions and ideas. I see more of this in her every day, which is a

very good thing because Ann has a lot of great ideas and intelligent things to say. As a team, we set our goal to walk 2,000 kilometers, as we knew we would most likely be earning RMB/kilometer from donors. We also thought this to be a good number because it gives us the flexibility to achieve a practical daily goal without forcing unnecessary misery upon ourselves. This allows our days to look like this: we walk to reach a distance goal for the day (usually this is just over 20 kilometers, which takes us about five hours) then we are free to find alternative transportation to the nearest hostel or hotel. If we are in a rural area, we camp. Lately, volunteers have been meeting us in the afternoon, walking the last few kilometers with us, then taking us to dinner and a hotel. We have been very happy to meet these good-spirited people in many towns we walk to. And they are absolutely OVERJOYED to meet us. Some people think of this as cheating, to which I would say,

Piss. Off.

If you want to read about a hard-core borderline masochist struggling through a life experience, I suggest ‘Into the Wild’. If you want to read a heart warming, fun-filled account of a brave 40 year-old Chinese woman and an in-over-her-head American woman hacking their way through a self-designed challenge through China, stay tuned. It has been a wild ride so far and there is more nectar to come. 

Chinese New Year in Shaoguan was the beginning of something beautiful.

The local volunteer association hosted us. The night before we left, they held an official meeting to honor us, as well as the volunteers who came up from Zhongshan. 20 volunteers sat around a large table and talked about the projects they completed in the past year, as well as their altruistic plans for the year to come. Then it was our turn. I was up first. Ann translated for me as I introduced myself in Navajo and English, and then told my story of how The Walk came to be. I told the story of meeting Gordon, Jerry and Ann. I told the story of the New Day children and how Feng Ming’s life and death inspired my bravery to start planning The Walk. As I talked, hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I hadn’t spoken of Feng Ming (Matthew) in ages, and my memories of him caught my heart off guard. I cried through the rest of my speech, trying to hold it together to finish my story. Ann then told her story, also tearing up. There was something in the air. We must have touched their volunteer leader as well, as we haven’t gone one day without a local volunteer group meeting us since then. The volunteer leader in Shaoguan talked to the volunteer leader in the next town, who talked to the volunteer leader in the next town, and so on. It is great to see our project bringing so many people together. We are equally thankful and exhausted. Everyone is so excited to see us and they want to talk to us and feed us and give us food and gifts. Unfortunately, when you’re walking there’s not much ability to carry bountiful food and gifts. We’re finding it difficult to say ‘no’ to good-hearted people who want to help us in the wrong ways. Unfortunately, most of this falls on Annimal, as I can play the ‘ignorant foreigner’ card. Though, it is all part of her journey, finding her voice to express her wants and needs (and in this case, expressing what we don’t need).

I also have goals for The Walk. I am trying like hell to learn Chinese. I am so tired of not being able to communicate in this country. I am a social person, and not understanding or being understood by people KILLS me. My Chinese is getting better, and more importantly, my listening and understanding skills are improving. It is a slow, difficult process. There is something else I am learning from this walk that I equally hoped for and dreaded before our departure. It’s a bit humiliating, actually. I’ll tell you anyway.

It’s no secret that the American society puts a high price on beauty. All you have to do is look at Barbie’s impossibly huge rack or open a Cosmo magazine to see the problem- an impossible standard of flawless 'beauty'. I’ve known for a while that I am a brainwashed American in this respect. The media teaches us that attractive people are funnier, more popular, smarter, and more worthy of love than ugly people. Perhaps it’s human nature. Perhaps it’s consumerism bullshit. Either way, I knew I needed to change this harmful lie that my brain has accepted as truth for so long. And I knew it was going to be uncomfortable. The first time I posted a picture of my face without make-up on I was terrified of what people would think. Before I

posted it, I forced myself to really look at it and to think about the amazing adventure behind the picture, remind myself of the bravery in my heart, and see the beauty in my bare face. It is incredible and a little bit scary how difficult this was for me. This was a huge, sobering reality check of how media influences my brain like a drug that I need to detox from. Fast forward to The Walk. Last week the volunteers in Shaoguan made us an encouraging banner that named us as Nuhanzi- ‘women who do manly things’. It’s a compliment, I think. They had no idea how right they were. We have bruised, purple toenails, our legs are becoming more muscular by the minute, and my hair needs an oil change 90% of the time. When Ann’s family came to visit us, we sent back with them many things that we haven’t used or don’t need. See, even though my pack is almost as light as can be, by the end of the day I can feel every ounce that I'm carrying beating down on

my knees and feet. This feeling is motivation enough to discard everything I don’t absolutely need. I threw away my razor and deodorant ages ago. Priorities, baby. When Ann’s family came to visit, I sent back with them some souvenirs from the Buddhist temple, donations from the Buddhist nuns, my foundation compact, my mascara, and my hopes of ever having a boyfriend again. Mascara and sex appeal are small prices to pay for this amazing adventure.

Packing light comes more naturally to me than it does to Annimal. I’ve been giving her a hard time for holding onto every little thing like a common pack rat. Every day her pack seems to grow larger, consuming everything in its path like a tree shredder in a rainforest. Like an Encyclopedia Britannica salesman, Annimal hauls her suitcase full of books and other treasures from one city to the next. Like Annimal’s bag, we are both growing in many ways. Some were expected and other lessons come as a surprise. It is becoming apparent that we will not finish this walk quite the same as we started. That is the scary part. That is the exciting part.

Kilometers to date- 358.8

CNY and The Goddess of Dairy

Chinese New Year was great! Ann was a little bit disappointed that her family was stuck in Zhongshan for the holiday. We stayed in Shaoguan, in a nice apartment with a young woman and her child. The volunteer group of the city organized this lodging. For New Year’s Eve dinner we went to the

family home of a volunteer who is from Zhongshan. Her family was very welcoming. There were over a dozen of us gathered to celebrate and many children running around. The kids eyed me suspiciously until one brave little boy mustered the courage to come over to the couch where I was seated. He walked up to me, closer and closer until his face was about an inch away from my face. He reached his hand up and touched the stud in my nose. Then he said something, to which I replied in Chinese, “I only speak a little bit of Chinese”. With that, he was gone as fast as he came. He rushed through the house hollering for his dad. When his father finally came out of the kitchen, the little boy excitedly told him, “Dad!!! I spoke to the foreigner and she said she speaks Chinese! Dad! I talked to her!” 
After much eating and cheers-ing, I went to play with the kids. We set off fireworks and waved sparklers around outside of their 4^th storey window. When it was time to go home, the kids begged

me to stay and the parents loaded us up with beer and food to take away. That night the fireworks continued. I had been warned about the fireworks in China on New Year’s Eve, but I didn’t understand the magnitude of it until I experienced it for myself. Each family lights Black Cats before their NYE meal in order to scare the evil spirits away for the year. As we were walking to dinner, many families were lighting these VERY LOUD firecrackers. I shit my pants six times that evening. Later that evening the booming fireworks started ten minutes before midnight and there was not a millisecond of silence until 26 minutes after midnight. I counted. Imagine millions of families setting off Black Cats at the same time. It sounded like a battlefield outside of my window. I was VERY glad when this part of the celebration was over.
 

On New Year’s Day we rested. Although it was great to have a few days of rest, I was anxious to get going again. I knew it would only get harder to get going again the more comfortable we became. Most of all, I was ready to get back on the road.

I was right. The first day traveling again was a rough one. We were already tired and sore by lunchtime. We started looking for a place to stop, but saw only houses. Ann spotted a Buddhist temple and mentioned that we might be able to find a vegetarian meal nearby. Boy, was she right! We wandered up to what we thought was a house. We were greeted by a kind old woman who

immediately invited us in. Little did we know we had found another Buddhist temple dedicated to Guan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy. The woman and the nuns (I could be completely off here. Please correct me if I’m wrong. I’m not sure what these women are called, other than ‘amazing’) invited us in for lunch, first ushering us into a small temple to pray. Ann coached me through my first real temple experience. We lit three sticks of incense and knelt before the altar. Here, more of my awkward agnostic praying ensued.

“Um, hey there. Guan Yin, is it? I hope you speak English. I know we just met, so I feel a bit uncomfortable asking you for anything. I hear you do some good things for people, though. I don’t know how much pull you have in the Chinese dairy industry...or if you exist at all, but I could seriously use a milkshake. If you could throw some Snickers or Reese’s in there, I definitely wouldn’t be upset. And I guess, like, safe travels for us, or whatever.….if it’s not too much trouble. I know Ann would be mad at me if I wasted my wishes on ice cream alone. Thanks. Catch ya later.’

The nuns were absolutely beautiful women with shaved heads and the kindest spirits you’ll ever know.

After our prayer they called for their Shifu, Master. The Master was over 80 years old with an indescribable positive energy that illuminated the room. We ate and talked with our hosts, who blessed our journey. After lunch we were invited to write the names of our family members on a scroll that will hang in the Guan Yin temple for a year offering them protection. We took a tour of the temple, said a final prayer, and packed up to go. The house/temple was an oasis of positive energy that was difficult to leave. Everyone there was so happy and peaceful. The nuns gave us the first donation we’ve received for our charities so far. They also gave us A TON of food. It was so much food that we had to stop and give the heavy, overflowing grocery bags to a family in a small village that we passed through not long after we left the temple. It was truly a beautiful afternoon.

That night we stayed in a small town in a hostel room above a restaurant. In the morning it was raining cats and dogs. We slowly packed our bags and drank our instant coffee while we waited for the rain to cease. We started walking in a drizzle, but it soon stopped. Then the weather was amazing. It was cool enough to walk comfortably in a long sleeve shirt. The clouds hung low over the mountains, blanketing the peaks in billowing cotton. Despite the beauty, this was the most difficult day we’ve faced physically.

We wound our way through beautiful mountains, which made for amazing scenery, but sore legs. We coached each other up every hill and thanked the heavens for every decline. There was nowhere to stop for lunch so we had a snack lunch on the edge of a farm near the highway. We agreed that this was the most difficult and most beautiful road we’ve encountered so far. We had the right motivation to press on, though. Annimal’s family was well on their way to see us. Since they couldn’t make it to us for Chinese New Year, they were coming to have dinner and stay a night with us. As much as I love Ann’s family, I was even more motivated by the care package my Zhongshan family had sent me. I knew the Canadians were sending chocolate and a hat that the kids decorated for me.

Six kilometers outside of our destination town, local volunteers met us. They took our packs in a support car and joined us walking the last bit. When we had only a few kilometers left to walk for the day, Ann’s family found us. It was so exciting to see them! Ann’s dad, aunt, uncle, sister, brother-in-

law, and nephews pulled up and we greeted them warmly. Ann’s brother-in-law, David, is an Italian/Australian man. He and Ann’s sister Helen have two beautiful boys, Bradley, 3 and Micah, 1. They are the CUTEST boys in the world. David and Helen frequent Jam, the café in Kaiyin where I spent my winter. As David was getting out of the car, he complained, ‘ You guys have been walking way too long. It took us FOREVER to get here. We left at 8 this morning!” Sweaty, dirty, sore, and exhausted, I gave him an evil look and said, ‘Oh really? That must have been really hard for you, David’. We shared a laugh. It felt good to be sarcastic with somebody.

We had a great dinner with the volunteers and Annimal’s family, then got some rest. It was a fantastic couple of days. 

Touche, Annimal....Touche

Getting a massage in China is kind of like paying someone to beat the shit out of you. I can’t read Chinese, but I imagine the ‘want ad’ in the classified section of the newspaper reads like this:

 ‘Are you miserable and angry? Do you have pent-up anger from a lazy husband, unappreciative children, or broken dreams? Are you a sadist? If so, come find your life calling at our massage parlor job fair this Saturday! It will be fun!’

John, Lianna, Ann and I went into the foot massage parlor looking for relief. John and Lianna had been walking with us for two days when we finally reached the outskirts of Shaoguan. We were all sore and blistered. I’d never had a foot massage before. This is how it goes:

First they lead you to a peaceful room with a tray of tea and tomatoes, a big TV and comfortable chairs. This is a façade- like getting flowers on your first date with a serial killer. Then they stick your sore, blistered feet into a vat of boiling herbal water. I have a strong suspicion that this ‘herbal water’ is actually the salon’s dirty dishwater that has been heated up and put in a fancy bucket. I keep my suspicion to myself. As your feet are cooking to a slightly pink medium-well in the scalding ‘therapeutic’ water, your own personal sadist starts digging her stone fingers into your tender shoulder

muscles. She doesn’t stop there. She grabs your hands and pulls them behind you like a cop taking a thief into custody, but with more lifting, twerking, and pulling. We tried not to resist arrest for fear of making it worse. The sadist then flips you around, pulls your scorched feet out of the water, and starts squeezing, hitting, pulling, and kneading them with a vengeance. This torment continues while you try to follow the strange Chinese sports on the television, wishing you were one of the athletes playing…. wishing you were anybody else in the world, really.  After 70 minutes, the torture subsides. You put on your shoes, pay your bill, and hobble out to your car, where you can moan and whimper in peace.

As Ann was getting her arms pulled behind her, I couldn’t help but laugh, as her sadist was even more aggressive than mine. It took only a few words from Ann in Chinese for my ‘massage therapist’ to up her game and dig into me even harder, causing me pain that nearly made me jump out of my chair. My sadist looked at Ann and they shared an evil Bond villain-like laugh together. Touché, Annimal. Touché.

John and Lianna found us on the night of the 13^th while we were camping in the mountains. That night we had found the perfect campsite down a village road, on top of a ledge. Our only issue was pushing Annimal’s trailer up the 6-foot ledge. After a few minutes of struggle, we made it. We set up our hammocks and had a rest, then made a dinner of noodles, eggs, and pickles. I made a fire while Ann went to find John and Lianna. Lianna is the saint who helped me sort out my visa issue on Day 3. Her

husband, John, is an American who has lived in China for over a decade. We drank beer and talked with them until it was time for them to go find a hotel and for us to get some rest. I opted to sleep in my hammock that night. Ann thought I was crazy and chose to sleep in the tent. It was a cloudy night with only one bright star shining above us. I checked my hammock knots, nuzzled down into my sleeping bag, and went to sleep with an appreciative heart. 

Having John and Lianna join us was great. They brought their car, which they thought would be an inconvenience, but turned out to be a great help. Each morning they would drive to our destination and take a car or motorcycle back to join us for the walk. When we reached their car at the end of a long day, we would drive to the nearest hotel and then go out to find a good meal. It was a very comfortable way to travel, and we miss them dearly now that they’ve departed (for many reasons, mind you…not just convenience). It was also great to have the company of an American. Having someone around who has a similar background just feels so good. It is nice to talk about American football, food that we miss from home, and our thoughts about China from an outsider’s perspective. As much as I love and appreciate the Chinese people and culture, it has

been difficult for me to experience and accept some of the customs. For example, children relieve

themselves everywhere. It is a socially acceptable act for a child to drop trou and squat on the street.After stepping over many child-made puddles in the city, I have become a bit desensitized. But yesterday, watching a child fertilize a tree with her mother standing over her on the side of a busy street, I was reminded that I’ve landed on a different planet. Needless to say, it was nice to have a fellow American with me for a few days, just to be understood.

There are a lot of really amazing Chinese customs, too! Today is New Year’s Eve in China. We are currently in a city called Shaoguan. Last night a family who volunteer locally at a leper’s village hosted us. The family made us dinner and taught me how to make shui jiao- Chinese dumplings. We ate delicious food until we couldn’t eat another bite, and then talked about the good things that happened in the past year. As we took turns sharing our stories, Liaoge, the patriarch, chomped on the leftover chicken bones, cracking them with his teeth, and then loudly sucking out the marrow. After dinner LiaoGe made us tea and his wife, LiaoSao, sent us home with multiple dabao (to-go) bags filled with food. It was a very nice evening. Tonight another family will host us for a New Year’s Eve dinner and fireworks. It is nice to have a restful break, and I am excited to experience my first Chinese New Year deep in the heart of China.

 Kilometer count to date- 247.4

There's No Place Like.....Dairy Queen

Day11

On day 11 we got going late. This may or may not have been my fault. Getting up early is not my thing. While we were having breakfast we heard loud drumming music coming up the street. It was a group of dragon dancers and their drummers. Children ran to watch and I ran with them. Annimal thought it was silly for me to get so excited about watching the dancers pass. But I thought they were amazing. They must have been practicing for the Chinese New Year festivities, which begin on the 18^th of this month. We had a rough morning. My body had aches and pains for the first time on our trip. I was exhausted and all I wanted was an ice cream cone which, of course, was nowhere to be found. The positive side of the day was that we were walking through beautiful green country at the base of a mountain range. At one point we both stopped and keeled over in misery. We were sore and exhausted. But I had an idea. We needed a dance. I set up the camera and taught Annimal a few basic hip-hop steps. I blasted a Macklemore song through my headphones and we did a ‘daily dance’ on the side of the road. Afterward, we watched the video and laughed. Ann claims that teaching her these steps is ‘like teaching a piece of wood how to dance.’  We stopped for a small lunch with a biker who had seen us on the road. We ordered soup and a beer, which he paid for before he left after a good conversation about our journey. On account
of me being exhausted (and a big baby) we called it a day and checked into a hotel. I slept all afternoon and had bad dreams interrupted by the firecrackers that children have been setting off in the streets all week in anticipation of the new year. We had a poor man’s dinner of noodle soup in our room because we were too tired to go out. We talked to our families and went to bed early. My favorite thing about Day 9 was our room. It wasn’t a spectacular room by any means (though, it had not rats, which I REALLY appreciated). See, I had been quite homesick for a few days and I was deeply missing home. As I was listening to my National Public Radio podcast that afternoon, I heard an interview of a man who plays Saul, a lawyer, on the show Breaking Bad. The show is a wildly popular drama about a high school chemistry teacher who turns to making meth when he finds himself in desperate need of cash. It takes place in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and it seems to be the only reason anyone understands where I'm from. The man being interviewed was talking about the filming location and how it was sometimes so awful to be in Albuquerque, enduring sandstorms, trashy people, and cold weather. Even though he was complaining about my home state, I was filled with nostalgia of home. That night when we checked into our hotel, we ended up in room 505- our room number for the night and the area code of New Mexico- of home. Even though it was just for a night, it felt good to be back in the 505.

Day 12-

In the morning we had breakfast and met one of the volunteers whom had hosted us in Qingyuan and was joining us for the day. It was a cold and foggy morning. The road was a mountain pass that wound us through beautiful, hazy, soft peaks.  After a few hours we stopped to stretch and do a daily dance,

which our guest respectfully and bashfully opted out of. Just before noon we came up to a house inhabited by a very kind family. Ann talked to them, explaining our story and purpose. The matriarch of the family invited us for tea, then for lunch. As we drank tea, Ann talked with the adults and I found a friend. Actually, she found me. As I snacked on pistachios and walnuts, the woman’s two year old  and granddaughter inched closer and closer to me. Eventually, the little girl was right in front of me and we were sharing my snack. One piece for her, one piece for her cousin, one piece for me. Repeat. Before lunch, the woman’s son took us to the family’s orchard. The family owned many starfruit and banana trees, a pig farm, a fish farm, many foul, and a large vegetable garden. Her son guided us to the orchard and picked us fresh starfruit off of one of their trees. I took my first ever bite of star fruit and melted with happiness. It was freshly picked, organic, and absolutely delicious. We spent time walking through the orchard and watching the adorable piglets, then went back to the house for lunch. We ate rice from the family’s field, fish from their farm, and vegetables and herbs from their garden. It was delicious. After lunch I played with the kids for a while before we had to go. The little girl whom I shared my snack with wanted to come along. When her Grandma held her back, the girl cried and cried My heart broke into pieces as I said goodbye. I’d only known this dirty, ornery little girl for a few hours. I don’t even

know her name. Why was I so sad to leave her? Later that afternoon we arrived in Yinde and got hotel. Just before we arrived into town, I found fake money on the side of the road. As legend has it, burning this money as an offering to your ancestors will bring good luck. I pulled out my lighter, set the faux cash ablaze, and pleaded my ancestors for a double chocolate fudge Blizzard with Snickers and brownies added in.

‘And ask for safety in our travels’ Annimal added.

‘No’ I said, shutting down her ridiculous remark. ‘I mostly just want ice cream’.

Ann is so patient.

That night we said goodbye to our walking buddy, went out for a quick dinner and got some sleep. We were very tired.  
Km count- 178.3