Sitting down in her presence, I, almost instantaneously, become aware of my breath. With my eyes closed, I inhale her gentle breeze through my nostrils down into my lower torso causing my belly and ribs to expand. Through my mouth, I slowly exhale, allowing her harmony, strength and magnificence to calm me.
When I open my eyes, I stare at her rise and fall, wondering how much healthier, both mentally and physically, I would be if I was as conscious of my breath as she appears to be of hers. Before long, I’m smiling at her with amazement and gratitude. She, Yin Tan which means Silver Beach, has reminded me of the essence of life.
Yin Tan in the late morning
The sun is blistering and I, rather unwisely, left my baseball cap back in my hotel room. With no shade trees to recline under and my head feeling uncomfortably hot, I’m forced to seek a cooler environment along the boardwalk that’s cluttered with small shops and snack bars charging way too much for goods and services.
The man, who seems to manage the quiet snack bar, wants 15 rmb (a little over 2 bucks) for a refrigerated coconut. I try bargaining the price down to 10 rmb, which is still a higher than usual but at least more reasonable than 15. Watching the beads of sweat race down my face, he knows how badly my body needs the cold milk from the tropical fruit and knows that I’m reluctant to walk away. He smiles, confidently, telling me to grab a sit while he goes to pick one out for me.
After my expensive, but incredibly sweet and refreshing coconut, I take a series of photos of Yin Tan and then bid adieu to her before the throngs of tourist arrive. The moment I step unto the No.3 bus, en route to downtown Beihai, I’m greeted with unapologetic gawking and whispers of “lao wai” (the colloquial way of saying foreigner) from many passengers. Yin Tan saw and spoke to the part of me that’s eternal, they, sadly enough, couldn’t get past my appearance.
Back in the city center, where the temperature is in the mid thirties and the sun is unforgiving, I go on attracting the sort of attention that somewhat ruins the blissful experience I had with Yin Tan. I’m stared at when I purchase a bottle of cold water. I’m stared at when I buy bananas and oranges. I’m stared at when I cross the street. Even while eating my first wholesome meal in days, people walking by the small restaurant stand and stare.
If I was in a more outgoing mood, the volume of interest that is being shown to me might not be such a nuisance. After all, I’ve yet to come across anyone in Beihai that has viewed me with contempt, which is more than I can say for some large cities where I often get the sense that a lot of its citizens aren’t exactly thrilled to come across a “lao wai”.
It’s minutes to six, when I board a ferry destined for Haikou, the capital city of Hainan, China’s tropical island. My friend Chris has been living there for the past two months, so I figure since I’m in the neighborhood and I got five days of holidays left, why not visit? This morning, before going to meet Yin Tan, I decided to pass by the harbour and buy a ticket for this evening.
The ferry that will take me from Beihai to Haikou
Considering the afternoon I’ve been having in the spotlight, I’m looking forward to spending the next 12 hours traversing the Gulf of Tonkin in my private cabin. I can get some reading done, write a journal entry and then fall asleep to the sounds of the sea.
Entering the small cabin, I’m puzzled by his presence. What is he doing here? I ask myself. In Mandarin, I tell him that the woman at the ticket office said that I would be alone in my compartment. With his face beet red and his breath smelling of beer, he shows me his ticket and I show him mine. According to the information on the tickets, he and I are supposed to share the tiny space.
(To be continued…)
