Visiting Emperor Nasi Goreng

I was listening to a Chinese song.

It was a strange song and the beat and strange words seemed to jump all over the place. After my experience with the taxi driver I needed to focus singlely on something or I quite possibly could explode.

You know the first thing that mum said after we had calmed down in the second taxi, both of us praying that he knew where he was going.

‘Well that was an experience’

I don’t think I have ever wanted to cause bodily harm to my mother more than that moment. Through the bad experiences or adventures we went through at that time without fail after we had recovered mum would say without fail that stupid phrase.

But the thing was at that moment in time we didn’t know but that taxi driver was only the tip of the iceberg with our other experiences.

So while mum was saying that was an experience there I was trying to focus on that song as I watched the meter tick higher.

Though I have to say that I think I have fully intergrated myself into a life as a writer. Let me first say one thing, I am not complaining it has taken me a long time to feel like a writer even in my own head but sometimes.

How do I know that my life is now as a writer? Simple, the whole time that I was sitting in that car with the dodgy taxi driver, the whole time that I watched the roundabout go round us for the sixth time I was thinking: this would be a great story.

I know.

There I was in a foreign country, a huge language barrier, a potential I don’t know kidnapper, I mean he could have taken us anywhere and there I was thinking that this would be a great story!

Though to be fair on my side I wasn’t just thinking that I was saying that it would be a great story but then my sarcastic side would add, it would be a great story if I lived through it. Then I would freak myself out and go on this whole rambling tanget and end up half mentally writing my story.

Writers are a crazy bunch.

My contacts didn’t go in properly today.

Not a good sign. I have had contacts since I was thirteen and since then I have found out that if ever my contacts don’t go in properly in the morning. That is they hurt or just refuse to stick to my eyes that the day is going to be bad.

Call it pessiamist or whatever but if my contacts don’t go in right I know it’s going to be a bad day.

Today was no exception.

It started out alright I woke up, always I good start to the day I think. But it was much to early to be up, it was four in the morning. We had a seven o’clock flight to Xi-an and we had to be early to the airport or not go.

So there we were checking out of the hotel, trying to get all of our luggage out and get a taxi, at this point in time the sun hadn’t even risen, I’m yawning just thinking about it.

Everything went fine from there, went through to the airport got on, had mild turbelence, I HATE TURBULENCE! Got to Xi-an.

Now you’re going okay, normal day what are you whinging about, well first of all let me finish I was setting the mood. Seriously.

Anyway then the trouble began we walked out of the airport and handed our little piece of paper to the taxi driver that had our hotel written down in Chinese.

It seemed alright as the guy helped us put our luggage in and we set off. Almost straight away we knew something was wrong, first of all the guy had stared at the address for quite awhile. I had the feeling that he didn’t know where he was going.

Then to make matters worse, Chinese drivers are known for going faster than the speed of light but this guy just pulled out down the ramp very slowly. Not good.

It was then that we noticed the metor wasn’t on. We knew all about the scams in the taxi system, where drivers wouldn’t turn on the system and could charge you whatever they wanted when you got there.

We decided to let it go for a moment as we went down from the airport ramp and down through the million of round abouts at the bottom.

We drove around the first roundabout but the thing was that we were going only about twenty kms an hour. Then the guy turned around and tried to talk to us in Chinese while we were asking him to turn on the metor.

I have never felt the language barrior more than when we were trying to get him to turn the metor on and he was trying to ask us where to go because he didn’t know, still in Chinese. That’s at least what we managed to figure out what he was asking.

We passed the roundabouts more and more times as the guy seemed intent on staring at me while talking in Chinese, time pasted as we went around the roundabout another time as both parties quickly got frustrated with the others as mum and me both got nervous.

In a rare lack of judgement mum and me really had no idea where we were going because we hadn’t done a sigle bit of reasearch on Xi-an we were only going to be here today and part of tommorrow.

Then my nose started to bleed.

I have come to realise that my nose only bleeds when I am extremely stressed. It has only happened twice before. One where I worked too many hours at work and I burst into tears and another when I couldn’t find a job for four months.

Not a good sign, so here we were going around the roundabout for at least the sixth time at twenty kms in a foreign country, with a guy nattering to us in Chinese and neither party knew anything the other was saying.

Finally mum and me both good really freaked out and tried to get him to drive back up the airport, it didn’t work and mum and me simply got him to stop. Not as easy as it sounds as we get him to go to the edge of the roundabout and I simply opened the door, pratically scrambling to get out.

Then as we were struggling to get out another taxi pulled up near us and the first taxi guy pratically chucked our luggage out of his car and into the other one.

To top off our brillant morning we almost forgot the piece of paper with our hotel on it and mum had to pratically jump in the front seat because the taxi driver wouldn’t give it back.

Almost as soon as we got away from the hellish driver the new one turned on the metor and drove away with us, turned on the metor and we took off.

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