On the Bus....

Changsha city bus # 135 churns away from the school's entrance at a battleship-like angle, crossing four lanes of traffic to get to the other side, and dodging cars and pedestrians that cram the street at the bottom of the school as class gets out each day.

The bus is somewhat retro. Aluminum and wood floors, stained with the stamping of thousands of feet, not to mention what else. The driver puffs on a cigarette and wheels around as I peer out one of the aisle windows.

We are headed to the train station, a transit point on this route, where I will switch to another bus to take me into downtown Changsha. The sun has set and the street is full of life. Today is the Lantern Festival, the last day of Chinese New Year. I am headed to Martyr's Park to watch fireworks and take part in the festivities.

The bus continues, it's herky-jerky movements, answer my question as to why so many Chinese have motion sickness. After a month away from the bus system, I myself, for the first time, am feeling queezy. A mixture of the driving and the impurities I am inhaling as we coast down the road.

Headlights illuminate the smog that drifts from the street floor up to the sky. There are no stars visible, as is the case on most nights in Changsha. The city is plagued with development and chaos, and is blanketed with a thermal gray of toxin. A month away has also exposed me to much needed blue sky and fresher air, and my body is slowly readjusting to the pollution.

There is nothing special about this ride. The continual stare. A woman in front of me shouts at a man behind her, who I deduce to be her boyfriend or friend, in a manner that is not anger, but much louder than you think would be necessary for two people only inches apart. Her child gets on the bus and sits on her lap. He stares at me. I make a goofy face back at him which elicits no response. This is what I do most of the time I get a stare from a child. The occasional peek-a-boo may work, but mostly they just smile back or if they are too small, look away nervously and then resume their staring moments later. You learn to let it all go. When an adult stares, I usually try to strike up a conversation, or at least say "Ni Hao" (hello), which catches them so off guard that they look away. It is all very comical to me now.

I trade buses and head to the park. It is a sea of people. I check my backpack numerous times to make sure everything is accounted for and all the zippers zipped before heading in. Bright, electronic lanterns are strewn over the main promenade of the park, an homage, albeit a less exotic one, to yesteryear. A time in which the lanterns were of paper, wood and candle.

Like most crowds in China, there is not much you can do but just go with the flow. Here in this one park, in this one city that no one outside China knows, on this one day in China, there has to be more people than crowd Times Square on any-given New Year's Eve. This is the scene in cities and towns all over China. Most people just really do not fathom this. There is so many people here.

The lakes of the park are alive with rowboats, and small ferry rides, paddle boats and people lighting paper lanterns and setting them to fly into the sky. There is no structure to the fireworking of this holiday, and explosions come from all angels and from all around. People are celebrating. Chinese style.

I spend about 45 minutes walking around the park before I get a craving for some noodles from a local Muslim restaurant. The noodles are thick and spicy and Changsha does not have much cuisine from other provinces. I indulge and buy two bowls to go, not knowing when I will be in the neighborhood again.

Then it is back on the bus, to continue the (at least) 45 minute commute back to our school. This time, the ride takes much longer. The bus is packed and traffic is bad. I stand up, backpack on, two bags of hot noodles in my hand and hold on to one of the handles. Eventually, I find a seat, sit down and resume the staring contest with another child.

Just another typical day on a bus, nothing special. These trips always make me feel like I am learning so much, just an observer, just watching the world take it's course.