Sichuan Bear Hug
Re-posted from my old blog.
April 27, 2019
Having just perfected a stalwart posture towards the relentless overtures of taxi drivers outside the airpot, I felt the startling sensation of being bear hugged by a stranger.
But it was no stranger. It was my friend Jon Anderson welcoming me in his signature Jon Anderson style.
Next thing I know, we've succumbed to the hustle and find ourselves in the back of the cab and just as he had promised, the trip was off to a very weird start.
We get out of the cab a half hour later on a quiet street at two in the morning. Stopping in a small open-air cafe for food, I have no idea what's being ordered on my behalf. We take a seat at our stools and dive into two heaping piles of Sichuan noodles and dumplings, and it's just what the doctor ordered after twenty-four hours of dehydrated, soon-to-be jet lagged travel.
A nice 3.2 beer accompanies us on this culinary initiation, but I'm getting a literal buzz on my lips from the Sichuan peppercorn-infused soup I can barely withhold myself from inhaling (Turns out the Sichuan peppercorn actually gives off a low-level electrical current!).
The first of many heavenly meals.
I heartily drink all the remaining broth while Jon pays via WeChat, and we walk down an unlit street toward his apartment.
As I'm laying on a foam mattress on the floor of the guest room, it suddenly hits me just how far away I am from my home -- and even though I'm not alone, I feel a unique combination of apprehension and vulnerability that I haven't felt since I went couch surfing in Qatar on a whim six years ago. It’s that moment when you go into shock and realize you just went halfway around the world.
At the age of twenty-two, my couch surfing contact, DJ, picked me up at the Doha airport and brought me straight to a New Year’s Eve party in a high rise apartment overlooking the Persian Gulf. As I looked at all those empty skyscrapers, I felt momentarily terrified at how much of a risk I had just taken, and there was no going back for at least a month. It was a sink or swim moment: I had no choice but to set my fear aside and jump into the adventure by befriending those around me. The next morning, I woke up to DJ yelling to me that I had five minutes to get up and get ready for what turned out to be the greatest dune bashing adventure of my life.
As I lay here thinking of all my past travels, of copilots and companions, I realize I had forgotten what it's like to embark all on your own. I couldn't stop thinking about what I had just gotten myself into.
That was, until I woke up in Chengdu.