Chengdu. So Operation: Travel Alone In China is underway, and I can't say it's been without mishap. First of all, the first day on the train I spilled about a liter of water on my bed, so I had a very cold, damp evening. Sleeping in one's jeans always leaves much to be desired, and damp jeans are among the least comfortable garments known to man, and trains are cold at night, so you can imagine the general state of things.

The next day, I was feeling all right: chipper, and pleased by Moby Dick, which is much better than I had expected. I took a little nap, and then decided to have lunch. Lunch, like dinner the day before, was ramen noodles. Breakfast and the previous day's lunch had both been peanuts. I got my ramen assembled and was just about to add water when I was struck by how very hot it was. I was covered in sweat. I stood to get the water and was suddenly very dizzy and nauseous. Leaving the ramen, I staggered to the bathrooms at the end of the car, both of which were
occupied. I slumped to the floor and closed my eyes, thinking of what an unfitting
end this would be.

Apparently you can't just lounge around in points of egress on a train, so a woman came and helped me to my feet and asked what was wrong. I told her I was very dizzy and she went off to get the conductor or something. Another woman came and gave me a Wet Nap to wash my face. I was feeling rather confused but still desirous of using the bathroom so when one of them was vacated I went in.

It's hard to use a Chinese squat toilet when you're really dizzy and it's moving. There was a knock at the door and I said "Please wait a moment!" I heard people talking outside, then the turn of a key.

The Chinese are not terribly delicate about these things. The woman from before peered in at me and explained that she'd found some staff to talk to me. Fine, fine, I said, just a minute. She closed the door; I washed my hands and stumbled out.

About half a dozen train personnel were there, including a man who spoke English. I explained the situation and they took me to a lower bunk and told me to lie down. I was anxious, not wanting to spend my time in Chengdu in the hospital, but I lay down for a bit and then felt better. I had a nice chat with the girl who's bunk had been stolen for me - an English major at a university in Chengdu - and an old lady gave me some corn-flavored hard candy and all was well. I appear to be fine now but I haven't had an actual meal in two days and I'm about ready.

When I got to Chengdu, I had a great deal of bother because none of the cab drivers or civilians I interrogated had ever heard of any the nice hostels I'd researched (but not actually booked, because I am a moron). A lisping bellhop at an expensive hotel finally agreed to help me ask a cab driver, who took me on the most utterly terrifying ride of my life. He actually pulled over at one point to holler at a small white minibus. (Actually, perhaps I should be glad he pulled over. Maybe that's actually safer.) When we finally got to the hostel, it was full. They directed me to a nearby hotel, and at that point I was ready to admit defeat. I shelled out for an actual room with a bathroom and everything, and I am a failure. A broke failure with weeks and weeks of vexing travel to go. Once again I ask you, rattling the bars of my cage, Why must we have six weeks of vacation?!

Anyway, girls who pass out on trains are entitled to three nights in a proper bed, don't you think? And my next stop is Luguhu, where I'm damned if I'm staying anywhere with running water.