When I first met him, he was wearing a yellow hard hat -- the kind construction workers wear. I was in one of the Tibetan "greasy spoons" opposite Xining's boisterous bus station. Beggars regularly work the row of grubby eateries (there are a couple of Lhasa joints, one Shigatse, another Rebkong) because Tibetans have to give as part of their religion-culture. Brownie points for the next life or something like that.
I was familiar with the old beggars, bent over double, faces creased over decades, women who smeared their faces with dirt and wore a ragged head scarf, and the Han Chinese monks in light grey, who chuckled when people give or didn't give. But Mr. Mad Hat Man was different.
Yes, he looked wild. His eyes danced a little. But he was young and hearty and healthy. Tall and strapping. "Why are you begging?" I asked, politely.
"Because I'm mad," he said, tapping his yellow headgear.
"Mad people don't know they're mad," I said. "I don't believe you."
He sat next to me, laughing. "I am mad," he insisted. "My family kicked me out of my home."
He was handsome under his dirt. Under his hat. Was he wearing a boiler suit?
"I don't want to steal. And I don't want to go out and work," he went on. "And so I beg."
You have to laugh, don't you?
The next time I saw him (in another Tibetan greasy spoon a few days later), he had ditched the hat and cleaned himself up a bit. He was handing out leaflets for a Lhasa tourist agency.
"It's you again!" I laughed. He smiled and tried to give me a leaflet. I declined. "Foreigners aren't allowed to go to Lhasa," I said.
He was charming.
He was disarming.
Maybe he was mad.
He followed me into the shop when I bought that lime green coat (see previous post). I had to hide behind the shop keeeper.
___
Today, Xining was crisp and sunny. Not bad weather for late October.
On the bus to the gym I spotted a tiny protest outside the government buildings on the main shopping strip - Xi Dajie. We like to call it Xining's Oxford Street!
About a dozen or so mainly older people had erected a banner saying “Illegal Stoppage of Heating. How will we get through winter?"
"违法停暖气，冬天怎么过?"
It sinks to minus 20 in the deep of winter and so you can imagine their concern.
I took a photo with my camera phone. Some old guy put his hand out to stop me. "Who are you?" I said. He walked on.
A few hours later they were still there. All peaceful and very small.
That's Xining for you.
I was familiar with the old beggars, bent over double, faces creased over decades, women who smeared their faces with dirt and wore a ragged head scarf, and the Han Chinese monks in light grey, who chuckled when people give or didn't give. But Mr. Mad Hat Man was different.
Yes, he looked wild. His eyes danced a little. But he was young and hearty and healthy. Tall and strapping. "Why are you begging?" I asked, politely.
"Because I'm mad," he said, tapping his yellow headgear.
"Mad people don't know they're mad," I said. "I don't believe you."
He sat next to me, laughing. "I am mad," he insisted. "My family kicked me out of my home."
He was handsome under his dirt. Under his hat. Was he wearing a boiler suit?
"I don't want to steal. And I don't want to go out and work," he went on. "And so I beg."
You have to laugh, don't you?
The next time I saw him (in another Tibetan greasy spoon a few days later), he had ditched the hat and cleaned himself up a bit. He was handing out leaflets for a Lhasa tourist agency.
"It's you again!" I laughed. He smiled and tried to give me a leaflet. I declined. "Foreigners aren't allowed to go to Lhasa," I said.
He was charming.
He was disarming.
Maybe he was mad.
He followed me into the shop when I bought that lime green coat (see previous post). I had to hide behind the shop keeeper.
___
Today, Xining was crisp and sunny. Not bad weather for late October.
On the bus to the gym I spotted a tiny protest outside the government buildings on the main shopping strip - Xi Dajie. We like to call it Xining's Oxford Street!
About a dozen or so mainly older people had erected a banner saying “Illegal Stoppage of Heating. How will we get through winter?"
"违法停暖气，冬天怎么过?"
It sinks to minus 20 in the deep of winter and so you can imagine their concern.
I took a photo with my camera phone. Some old guy put his hand out to stop me. "Who are you?" I said. He walked on.
A few hours later they were still there. All peaceful and very small.
That's Xining for you.
