An encounter from one of my previous trips.
Most of Lijiang is an ordinary, modern, even unlovely city but the old town is perfectly wonderful. It is a maze of streets, some more touristy than others but all delightful. In the tourist sections no two shops seem to sell exactly the same thing: all of them are individual and unique as fingerprints. The buildings too are fascinating. The ground floors may have been converted into shops or bars or restaurants or hostels but a glance upwards shows that they are indeed old buildings remodelled rather than new imitations. In places the buildings follow the lines of the old canals, separated from the water by narrow footpaths from which you can step directly into any one of the bars for your lunch. The roofs lean towards each other like whispering conspirators leaving only a narrow strip of sky visible.
A few minutes ago that strip had turned from blue to grey as a prelude to rain and now, as I sat inside a pleasantly rustic cafe the rain started to penetrate the gap and spread throughout the spaces between the buildings. It muddied the reflections in the canal but wasn’t strong enough to create any ripples.
The wooden shutters of the cafe were opened all the way back, pressed against the walls, leaving a large opening through which the world could be watched. I ordered some corn soup and bread and a beer and sat doing just that. I had finished eating and moved on to a second beer when a Chinese teenager entered. He wore dark trousers and the ubiquitous high-collared blue jacket but had made a concession to individuality in the form of a perfectly hideous pendant of an old man’s face worn on a leather lace about his neck.
He sat down in the far corner and I didn’t give him another thought until I glanced back from th window and found him standing opposite me. My Chinese was limited to “hello”, which I duly used, but lacking any further vocabulary found to be an ineffective gambit. He pointed to the shelf behind me and, turning to look, I found a chess set. He clearly wanted to play. While I can play chess I’m not actually very good but I thought I’d give it a go. He sat down and we set the board up.
As we played he tried out a few phrases of English. They were quite elementary but considerably better than my Chinese. We took our time, spending more effort on trying to converse than on playing. Suddenly I realised that I was two moves from a mate that he obviously hadn’t seen. I played the moves and won. He seemed happy enough with the result and started to set up again. Half an hour later I had won again and he still seemed happy. He did, however have to go. He suggested, or rather I thought he was suggested, that we should meet again to play tomorrow. Unfortunately tomorrow I would be heading out of the city straight after breakfast. He gave a small nod of departure and left me sitting there. I packed up the set, ordered another beer and went back to watching the world go by.
Later, I thought, I shall go for a walk, or perhaps return to the pleasant walled courtyard of my old city dormitory.
Or perhaps, I added to myself, I shall just stay here and watch the rain.
A few minutes ago that strip had turned from blue to grey as a prelude to rain and now, as I sat inside a pleasantly rustic cafe the rain started to penetrate the gap and spread throughout the spaces between the buildings. It muddied the reflections in the canal but wasn’t strong enough to create any ripples.
The wooden shutters of the cafe were opened all the way back, pressed against the walls, leaving a large opening through which the world could be watched. I ordered some corn soup and bread and a beer and sat doing just that. I had finished eating and moved on to a second beer when a Chinese teenager entered. He wore dark trousers and the ubiquitous high-collared blue jacket but had made a concession to individuality in the form of a perfectly hideous pendant of an old man’s face worn on a leather lace about his neck.
He sat down in the far corner and I didn’t give him another thought until I glanced back from th window and found him standing opposite me. My Chinese was limited to “hello”, which I duly used, but lacking any further vocabulary found to be an ineffective gambit. He pointed to the shelf behind me and, turning to look, I found a chess set. He clearly wanted to play. While I can play chess I’m not actually very good but I thought I’d give it a go. He sat down and we set the board up.
As we played he tried out a few phrases of English. They were quite elementary but considerably better than my Chinese. We took our time, spending more effort on trying to converse than on playing. Suddenly I realised that I was two moves from a mate that he obviously hadn’t seen. I played the moves and won. He seemed happy enough with the result and started to set up again. Half an hour later I had won again and he still seemed happy. He did, however have to go. He suggested, or rather I thought he was suggested, that we should meet again to play tomorrow. Unfortunately tomorrow I would be heading out of the city straight after breakfast. He gave a small nod of departure and left me sitting there. I packed up the set, ordered another beer and went back to watching the world go by.
Later, I thought, I shall go for a walk, or perhaps return to the pleasant walled courtyard of my old city dormitory.
Or perhaps, I added to myself, I shall just stay here and watch the rain.
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