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I spent the day with Penelope riding a mountain bike along the Yulong River in China’s southern Yangshuo district. Rice paddies dotted with mountain sized rock formations surrounded us. It was a clear, calm, sunny day. Almost perfect. Little did I know that a major earthquake was causing devastation to the north east, in the Sichuan province. As I write these lines, it is estimated that 50,000 may have died in the catastrophe.
I first got wind of it all from emails flowing into my inbox asking if Penelope and I were ok. It was confusing, Only later that night, when the tourists returned to their hotels from a hard day rock-climbing, boating or cycling did they switch in CCTV9 – China’s only English language TV channel - to be greeted with the grim news.
The Chinese girl I shared a hotel room with hails from nearby Nanning, where the quake was also felt. She was in a state of shock, and we sat up most of the night watching the various news services. It was all so familiar; how may times before have I stayed up in Israel, scanning the media and internet for updates of disasters, natural or otherwise.
Chengdu, the major city near the quake’s epicentre, was my next destination. The friend I was going to visit there has told me of how she thought she was gong to die when it happened. For the following 3 days, she and her family slept in their car to be clear of buildings if another quake hit. And for all that, she has asked me to still come to see how beautiful her city is. Transport to Chengdu has just been restored. We will see how things pan out.
Last night I chatted with a Dutch woman who had been in Chengdu when the “quake hit the fan”. She and her daughter felt nauseous and sick. Everyone ran out to the streets and parks for safety. They both cringe in terror when a table shakes or a plane flies overhead. It reminds me of my own post Gulf War reaction to creaking doors, which I instinctively interpret as an air raid siren indicating incoming missiles.
People raced to the airport to leave, but got stuck in terminals crowded by similar minded folk. The woman told me of a plane taxiing down the runway as the shakes began. The control tower stopped functioning so the plane couldn’t take off. Moreover, the terminals were in a state of array, so the passengers couldn’t disembark. They sat there, apparently, for 12 hours.
I am now in the city of Gullin, where huge displays have been erected by volunteers with poster sized photographs of quake victims, in efforts to rally financial assistance.
I first got wind of it all from emails flowing into my inbox asking if Penelope and I were ok. It was confusing, Only later that night, when the tourists returned to their hotels from a hard day rock-climbing, boating or cycling did they switch in CCTV9 – China’s only English language TV channel - to be greeted with the grim news.
The Chinese girl I shared a hotel room with hails from nearby Nanning, where the quake was also felt. She was in a state of shock, and we sat up most of the night watching the various news services. It was all so familiar; how may times before have I stayed up in Israel, scanning the media and internet for updates of disasters, natural or otherwise.
Chengdu, the major city near the quake’s epicentre, was my next destination. The friend I was going to visit there has told me of how she thought she was gong to die when it happened. For the following 3 days, she and her family slept in their car to be clear of buildings if another quake hit. And for all that, she has asked me to still come to see how beautiful her city is. Transport to Chengdu has just been restored. We will see how things pan out.
Last night I chatted with a Dutch woman who had been in Chengdu when the “quake hit the fan”. She and her daughter felt nauseous and sick. Everyone ran out to the streets and parks for safety. They both cringe in terror when a table shakes or a plane flies overhead. It reminds me of my own post Gulf War reaction to creaking doors, which I instinctively interpret as an air raid siren indicating incoming missiles.
People raced to the airport to leave, but got stuck in terminals crowded by similar minded folk. The woman told me of a plane taxiing down the runway as the shakes began. The control tower stopped functioning so the plane couldn’t take off. Moreover, the terminals were in a state of array, so the passengers couldn’t disembark. They sat there, apparently, for 12 hours.
I am now in the city of Gullin, where huge displays have been erected by volunteers with poster sized photographs of quake victims, in efforts to rally financial assistance.
The bottom line is that P and I are well. And to be honest, we are dealing with other challenges more immediate to our travel experience. More on that later. In the meantime my friends, stay safe.
A & P.
A & P.
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