"And you are..."

"We", said the largish man whose appearance and accent hinted strongly of Indian descent with a sweep of his hand meant to include his three companions "are teachers from Yi Chun University, and we are also going to Hong Kong to get our working visas."

Boy, that is really terrific.  Why is it, that they knew I would be there, but nobody thought to tell me they would be there?  This is one of many mysteries  not infrequently pondered in this mystery-shrouded land.

The rest of that train ride was amazingly uneventful.  Though we were in the same car, the births of my fellow professors were a few compartments away, so I was able to "chat" with the Chinese passengers.  This was enjoyable, though toilsome conversation that frequently involved inconvenient speaking stoppages while words unknown and words previously unknown, then known and forgotten again were sought in my well-used dictionary. 

Upon disembarkation, I was able to get a good look at our motley crew of foreigners.  There I was, surrounded by the previously mentioned initial contact maker, a few years older than myself, his much less tall than him wife, a very pleasant man from Nepal, and a more experienced professor whose years must be double mine and ten.  During the train ride, the man from Nepal had befriended the only other foreigner in the car, a smiley man from Japan. 

We gathered our belongings and ourselves, and began our most unusual procession through the Shenzhen train station on our way to the freedom and "fragrant harbor" of Hong Kong.  What we lacked in velocity, we made up for in volume.  Loudness of appearance, and the constant, ever so constant, so constantly constant sshhthunk, sshhthunk, sshhthunk, sshhthunk of little suitcase wheels rolling over joints between tiles, joints between sidewalk sections, joints between sections of bridges and pedestrian walkways, and all changes in texture of our underfoot surface.  I am haunted still.  Like the bigwheel on the carpet off the carpet in "The Shining"

Leaving Mainland China to enter Hong Kong was a simple matter of walking over a short enclosed bridge over a twenty foot wide canal, and getting another stamp in the passport... unless you happen to be teaching medicine (as all of my companions (except the Japanese fellow) were and you also happen to be from Nepal, which one of my companions happened to be.  In that case, you need a visa to enter Hong Kong, so you must go back across the bridge and wait in Mainland China, but not before answering many questions while the rest of the entourage waits for the lengthy interview process in an odd passport purgatory a little beyond where the stamps are given, just past  the section of floor painted yellow and marked "Don't wait here", or something like that, but before the quietly, confidently circulating escalator leading upward towards Hong Kong, and its heavenly promises.  I watched many manys of people ride smoothly out of sight before I too rose from the doctor deporting depths into... another train station.  That apparently is all that separates China and Hong Kong, a few kilometers of train station, with stern stamping people in the middle.

-I'm sorry, I must interrupt this narrative again.  I can see my breath, and my fingers are cold, so I will continue another time, after vigorous walking to promote blood-flow..  Until then, stay well, and stay warm.  I am...so far.. -Tyler