Noises began to merge and shrink. I was sinking into a muffled underwater world where sounds melt into vague blobs. You could hardly distinguish the sudden cry of a cell phone from the din of Mandarin and the crinkle of stubborn newspaper pages refusing to turn. An epic decrescendo engulfed me. At the same time, my ears began aching. First it was faint, then violent. How could I end this madness? Swallow. Equalize. At once, hazy hearing became crisp and my world realigned. I was traveling through the longest tunnel in China (23 km) on a high-speed train coming back from Beijing. We were nearing the tunnel's end, thus the changing pressure.
I looked at the window. The window looked at me, wearing a 4 day beard on a 23-year-old face. This reflection was abruptly erased by a thick rush of light. We had exited, and were now hurrying past mountains tinged amber in the sunset. The falling shadows cast each fold, each turn of terrain into running gradients that collided now and then, forming sharp contrasts. Every shade of green played upon the hills. There were deep gorges where the ground sunk unexpectedly, making rows of earth stretch like giants' fingers from the heights. And all around, the land was dug into terraces, planted with trees and garnished with an odd hut or two. What a breathtaking finale to my travels in Beijing.
Then we ducked into another tunnel, and the face reappeared. Reflections make lonely companions. A familiar pang of homesickness punched me in the stomach and I had the distinct feeling of riding a tandem bike alone. This train was taking me where I lived, but not home.
Our train made the station. The city was so... small! Honey, I shrunk Taiyuan. And had they coated it in a fresh layer of dust since I left? After my trips to Hong Kong and Beijing, the difference was jarring. This was not cosmopolitan or modern, it seemed backward. Yet I loved it. I knew it better somehow. You really gain perspective after getting away for a while, and sometimes you have to shed something for it to grow on you. Sometimes distance brings people closer. Sometimes leaving home helps you find it.
