Lai Yde and a Bike
I first met Lai walking the streets around GuangAn Hospital. We were walking in opposite directions when he stopped me to ask for directions. Since I was a stranger in Beijing, I was preparing to tell him that I didn't know where anything is. Out of his pocket he pulled a piece of paper that had GuangAn Hospital printed. I laughed and told him that that was the only place I knew how to get to. We were close by and we talked about bicycles as we walked over since he was pushing a bike that looked strange to me. It didn't have a chain for one thing. I learned that he was named after Zhou En Lai, a leader of the Communist Party, because his dad was a sociology teacher in Denmark, and a fan of the Communists. Lai was looking for a place for acupuncture so I left him when we reached the lobby of the hospital.
A few days later, Dec 26th, I was walking the streets looking for a bike to purchase and saw Lai's unique looking bike parked outside a store that sold kitchen furniture like stovetops and cabinets. I went inside and saw his big smiling face coming toward me. In a city of millions we ran into each other again by chance. He told me that his flight was changed and he wasn't able to bring the bike back with him and wanted to sell it for Yuan$1500, the cost of the stovetop that we wanted to buy. He wanted the gas stovetop with heavy black enameled burners because it was distinctively Chinese and not your typical souvenir, "every time I cook it'll remind me of China" he said.
I had been looking at bikes of all kinds that day, including electric bikes. But even the electric bikes with their gizmo whirl and effortless propulsion didn't compare with Lai's Biomega Copenhagen. It looked like it saw a lot of use and it had stories hidden in the scrapes and bruises of its aluminum frame. I told him I'd buy it. I took it for a quick ride down the street, listening for the whine of the shaft-drive and clicking through the internal three speed.
Unfortunately, I only had Yuan$1300. The ATM didn't want to cooperate, rejecting my card on two different machines. Lai was fine with the Y$1300 so the deal was struck. I emptied my wallet, giving him an additional Yen$1000 that I had from the stop-over in Japan. We talked over a few beers at a small local restaurant; about the passing of my mom and the passing of his father. About the fluidity of life and the places and faces we've known. Half-drunk from sharing two liters of Chinese beer at a total cost of Yuan$6, we exchanged contacts, each believing in the strength of instant friendships. I rode home that day on Lai's bike, marvelling at the fact that I bought a Danish bicycle in Beijing.
Denoument: While going home that day I braked too hard avoiding a women coming head-on and a taxi on my left, flipping over the handlebars and summersaulting spectacularly onto the street. I wasn't hurt, and my gloves were incredibly intact (thanks to the freezing temperature, I was actually wearing them).
Now, I'm sitting in the airport at Tokyo, waiting for my connection, waiting to be home, and looking forward to breathing air that doesn't make you subconsciously take shallow breaths.
