Lost In Hangzhou

The moment I find myself lost, I know it is not easy to go back to my hotel through a claustrophobic maze of buildings . It is my second day in Hangzhou, a scenic city famous for its large lake - Xi Hu, which literally means western lake. Steeped in history, the city is the dwelling place of many a famous scholar in China. The famous snake maiden legend also takes place here.

With a twenty-member tour group, I visited Shanghai, Suzhou, Wuxi and Yangzhou before setting foot on Hanzhou . The name of our group is Halim, a well-reputed travel agency in Miri, Sarawak. It is my first trip to China, and I am excited beyond measure. I have decided to venture around the city on my own after dinner. The city is fringed with dripping willow trees, and the splashes of Xi Hu animated the air. I have passed by serried ranks of shops and turned into multiple alleys before coming to a cluster of bric-a-brac and ceramic stalls. Many vendors have pitched their items to me with flattering, persuasive language which is too Machiavellian for my liking. With a shake of the head and a smile, I have turned them down flat one by one. I don't need such things. They are unnecessary adjuncts to me.While retracing my way back to the hotel, I realize that I can't remember which alley I have exited. I enter one but it forks out into many other streets. I backtrack and walk into another long,unfamiliar street which seems to have no end. I can't recognize any building because every single shop along the street looks no different from the other.

In the grip of panic, I wander around aimlessly. The stark reality of me losing my way has taken hold on me. I tighten the collar of my jacket around my neck against the biting chill. It is now early winter and the air is particularly cold at nights. White vapors rise from my mouth as I breathe. Despite sundown, the crowds along the street never seem to recede. Who would have thought that I am now in a state of disorientation amidst the rush of milling people? What should I do to get help? At that very moment, a tiny voice speaks to me in my mind," Why don't you take a taxi back to your hotel?" The question jerks me into sanity from the chaos of my mind. I look around and see a few taxis driving along the street. Just as I am about to flag one down, I realize that I have forgotten the name of my hotel. Worse still, my cell phone is not in my trouser pocket. I can't phone any of my tour-mates. I must have carelessly left it on my bed in the hotel.

In dismay, I plod along the street with a heavy heart, shrill, mournful opera music from a nearby sundry shop rending the air. I feel like crying. Why am I so stupid and careless? Why should I leave the comfort of my hotel room and subject myself to such a torment outside? Is my room-mate looking for me? I awfully miss the security offered by his companionship. I have been out of my hotel for almost two hours. Is he looking for me?

My aimless walk eventually takes me to the warmth of a coffee shop. I sit down at a small table and order a pot of tea. I sip the liquid quietly, having no idea how it tastes. My brows are closely knitted and my hands tightly-clenched around my cup. The coffee shop is full of rapid fire chatters. Most customers are puffing away without a care in the world. Their loudness confounds me. My solitude has captured the interest of a waiter. He comes over and asks me in a polite voice, "Sir, you don't look like a local. Where are you from?"

I look at him timidly, my mind too blank to answer.

“Are you from Gwangzhou?” goes on the waiter, not giving up on engaging me in a conversation.
Remembering Mama’s advice, I hold my impulse to say no. She told me that it is safer to let strangers in China assume that I am a local, than admit to them that I am a Malaysian tourist.
“Are you from Gwangzhou, or from Taiwan?” asks the waiter again, in a probing manner.
“Gwangzhou,” I answer, trying to sound calm and collected. However, the tremour in my voice betrays me.
“I see, welcome to Hanzhou,” is the waiter’s reply. I can see a sly glint in his eyes. Has he found out that I am lying through my accent?
“Sir, we can recommend some girls to you in case you are lonely,” puts in a tall customer. He appears silently behind me.

Shocked, I shake my head and say I am not interested. The two men smile and leave me alone. I go on sipping tea from my cup but my heart beats faster than usual. The brief conversation with the two men makes me feel all the more unsafe. I have already lost my way, and now I become a potential target of pimps. Although the tall man and the waiter are no longer around me, I can still feel their eyes on me. My skin prickles with fear. The atmosphere of the coffee shop becomes more and more suffocating with cigarette fumes.

In a fretful haste, I pay the bill and leave the coffee shop, escaping the fug of the smoke-filled interior and the danger that lurks in it. Once again, I am exposed to the cold and dark of the street, which has become much quieter now. The number of pedestrians has dwindled to only a few. Quite a number of shops have closed. I feel oppressed in the ominous silence. In my state of anxiety, everything around me looks portentous of evil.

I chanced upon a broad road in my mindless walk. A knot of men are drinking beer under a poplar tree at the mouth of the road. I sidle past the group, hoping that none of them will accost me. Then, I quicken my pace and cross the road. I find myself in an area of fully-iluminated shops. Another one hour has just passed and it is now 10 p.m. I still haven’t the slightest idea where I am. Maybe I should go to the police station. Given that I have forgotten the name of my hotel, would they be able to help me to reunite with my tour-mates? They might think I am joking and chase me out of the police station. I sigh and ridicule myself for my misfortune. I may have to sleep on the street tonight.

Suddenly, I catch sight of two familiar figures in a shop that sells tea leaves. They look like my tour-mates. I walk nearer the shop to confirm that my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. Indeed, they are my tour-mates. In great relief, I walk into the shop and say hi to them. My eyes feel moist and warm.
“Mr. Lo, what a surprise to see you here,” says one of the ladies.
“Me too, I was around sight-seeing,” I lie, not wanting them to know that I am lost.
“We are planning to go back to the hotel now. Care to join us?” says the other lady.
“Ya, I am becoming sleepy,” I agree, keeping my excitement in check.

The two ladies have saved my day. I let them walk ahead of me, pretending to be their ‘body guard’. After ten minutes, the familiar facade of our hotel comes into view. They thank me for accompanying them back. But little did they know that I have depended on them to find my way back to the hotel. It is too emasculating to tell them about my experience.

I have a fever that midnight. I must have been exposed to too much cold while wandering around town. My room-mate gives me his fever tablets and I feel better the next day. Then, our tour group sets off for the final part of our journey to Nanjing.

I have learnt to be more alert from that frightening experience. Before going out exploring a new surrounding, I should make sure that I have a map, the card of my hotel and my cell phone with me. In order not to get lost, I should also try my best to recognise and remember the prominant landmarks of different places. In this way, my safety will be better guaranteed.