Cloudy in Beijing Blogging about my time in China

On the streets

So often I'll walk the streets of Xi'an only to hear this: a wad of phlegm rasping up through someone's hollowed throat. Then comes the inevitable and loud spit, followed by my own cringe.

Little children peeing on a tree in the sidewalk, this is common too on the streets here. Once I even saw a grown man do the same and urinate in broad day-light, all the while pedestrians were walking right on by. Like the mucus that hits the concrete floor here, I try to ignore it all.

There are yellow trash canisters spaced out along the sidewalks where I live. Every once and a while, I'll see an man or woman peek through the garbage cans and then stick a hand in. They'll pull out an empty drinking bottle, and place it in the bag or cart that holds the rest of their scavenged recycled goods.

"Are you done with that?" an old woman once asked while I sat on a street. She pointed to the water bottle next to me. "No," I said, seeing that there was a little bit left. She walked off, but I shook my head; I should of just gave it to her anyways.

On the streets are also people begging for money. At one store there is an old man who kneels for money. At his side is a small toddler, who picks up empty drinking bottles.

Some of these people willingly tell their stories, usually writing it on a paper they place on the ground next to them. "My parents bullied me" a young girl wrote who was going blind. "So I ran away from home," she added.

"I've met financial misfortune," a man scrawled in chalk while he sat carrying a baby.

Today I walked past a man sitting on the ground. In his lap, he cradled what I guess was his friend, who had lost both of his legs. The disabled man slept, his pants knotted up at the knees. I ignored them, and didn't stop to read their story; Starbucks Coffee was on my mind.

Today, a student told me she got hired for a short part-time job. Over this three-day weekend, she'll be doing what I often also see on the street corners: people passing out commercial pamphlets. (Another thing I try to ignore).

"How much do you make?" I asked.

"About 14 yuan" she said, which equals to about $2.

"Is that 14 yuan an hour?"

"No, it's only 14 yuan for a whole day," she said. "I work 8 hours each day."

After three days of work, she'll have only made 42 yuan, or $6. Just enough to buy two cups of coffee.

"Oh," I said to her.

Going to Starbucks never felt more wrong.