Arriving in our check point cities and other small towns where we’ve taken breaks has been very much the same. A few kilometers out of town, Ig will start trying to convince me that we’ve actully reached town and can hail a taxi to a bing guan.
“Look!” he said once, pointing to a sign completely in Mandarin. “That sign right there says, ‘No foot traffic beyond this point–catch a cab!'”
Unable to convince me as of yet, the unflailing Ig perseveres and keeps giving this tactic the ole’ college try.
When we reach a hotel, I usually fall into bed and sleep for a few hours, whereas Ig showers up and flips around the tube.
Then we spend the entire next two days sleeping, watching the World Cup and gorging ourselves. Well, okay, I gorge myself until I’m sick, and Ig merely picks at the junk he’s bought.
At any rate, we don’t ever have the energy to get out and explore, but we decided today we’d play the tourists. Unfortunately I have no tube socks or Hawaiian shirt, so my crazy tan lines and camoflage tee had to do.