A Fast Train to China

It’s been a week of firsts for me, and today’s first is a real doozie. I’m in Communist China, although, come to think of it, I haven’t heard anyone use that term around here.
We caught the morning train from Kowloon, the mainland portion of Hong Kong. About ninety minutes later we were in Gangzhou, formerly known as Canton, and I’m not talking Ohio.
On the rather pleasant ride, I sat next to a computer systems salesman named Dzhou. Dzhou, a native of Hong Kong, travels extensively throughout China. I asked him what changes he’d seen since the Communist government took back its control of Hong Kong in 1997. “It has opened things up,” he says. "I can now do business throughout China. Dzhou thinks the Communist take-over, coupled with a more business-friendly attitude, has been good for the economy.
Dzhou is a pleasant sort of guy, quick to laugh, willing to talk, so I take a chance and ask him about the down side of the takeover. He laughs. He says that in subtle ways you know you’re under a more rigid regime. But, he adds, “As long as you don’t think about it politically, things are good.”
I’d like to find out more, but Dzhou has an arsenal of cell phones which are constantly ringing. And, apparently, he enjoys talking.
The train is modern, clean, comfortable, with plenty of leg room. I wish I could fly it back to the United States, rather than that ridiculously cramped 747 that awaits me in about nine days. On the tain, there are about five women, smartly dressed in blue uniforms. Some of the women are tending to the passengers as they struggle on board with various and sundry pieces of luggage. The car adjoining ours bustles with activity. Other blue-uniform clad women are busily moving pots and pans around, pouring various items (I can't distringuish what) from one pan to another. I’m anxious to see what’s going to happen.
Shortly after the train departs the station, the women don crisp, white aprons and commence to selling anything they can find in that adjacent car.
First one comes out carrying a tray loaded with cartons that look much like Chinese take-home containers. In a lovely sing-songy voice, she offers her wares. She's speaking in Chinese, so I can’t tell what she’s offering, but she sounds pleasant.
Next, another woman comes out with a handful of various newspapers. Turns out she’s offering those for six dollars (Hong Kong) a piece, which in exchange rate is less than a dollar.
Before long another lady comes through and she’s got chicken legs for sale. At least there were no necks and heads being served up. Then some soup or noodles are proffered. After that one of the attendants comes by carrying a book, showing it to everyone. She shows it to me, but doesn’t try and sell me anything. Later when she comes back with the book, singing her little sales pitch, she translates for me. She’s offering stamps.
She’s followed by another young woman with a bowl filled with corn on the cob. It looks good, but it’s a little early in the day for my American-trained palate. Evidently, a lot of Chinese agree with me, because when she comes back through, her bowl is still filled with corn.
As the landscape flies by, I notice that the high-rise condos and apartments which fill Hong Kong, are equally as prevalent once we're outside this Special Administrative Region. I would not have realized we had entered the true Communist China, had not Dzhou called my attention to the fence at the border. I was distracted by another onboard sales pitch. An attendant wheels through a huge cart, fully loaded with bottles of liquor and cartons of cigarettes. I’m guessing she was offering duty-free products.
"Here's the border," Dzhou says, bringing my attention back to the world outside. On the Hong Kong side, it just looks like a fence. However, on the other side, huge rolls of barbwire send a stern warning that, while things may have loosened up, the gates have certainly not swung wide-open.
Still another attendant comes through offering something in little metal containers. She sings her song in Chinese, but when she gets to me, she sings, “coffee or tea?”
Outside I notice miles and miles of high rise housing roll by. As we get out "into the country," I see terraced produce gardens, and a few irrigation ponds. A field here and there dot the landscape, and, just as in all the National Geographics, there are workers tending to the crops. Soon, factories begin to compete for space with the housing. The agricultural areas are very sparse in this part of the country.
Again, I'm distracted by yet another trayful of take-out containers being melodiously offered by one of the attendants. Dzhou has told me how there’s money to be made in China. Apparently, the Chinese have become very adept at the marketing game, even here on the train. I’m not complaining. It appears that good ol’ American capitalism has come to China. This is not your father’s Red China, I’m thinking. In fact, it’s not even my daughter’s father’s Red China. Growing up in the fifties and sixties, I’d heard plenty of horror stories. I had pictured China as being a combination of George Orwell’s 1984, Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, and the 1973 motion picture Soylent Green. That's definitely not the picture I'm seeing now.
Hong Kong is, in many ways, not so very much unlike many large American cities. I’m suspecting that when I get to Gangzhou, I’ll find more of the same…just a big Chinatown. Maybe? I'll fill you in tomorrow.