A Nepali hospital experience

I dedicate this to all my medical peeps:


Perhaps you're curious about what it would be like to work in a hospital in Nepal. Well, wonder no longer. I'm going to give you the nitty gritty. I'm volunteering at a hospital in the town of Chitwan. As you can imagine, it's nothing like the hospitals in America. The only way I would allow myself to be a patient here is if I was unconscious. We are spoiled rotten by the health care available to us in the U.S. It seems like a bit of a circus act here sometimes, but I wasn't expecting much different.


On the morning of my first day, I slip into my familiar scrubs and realize it's been a month and a half since I've worn them. I can honestly say I truly love being a nurse. It's such a rewarding career, I can't really imagine doing anything else. I know it sounds cheesy, but it's true. I love nursing so much, I'm doing it for free!


My first day I'm picked up by the volunteer coordinator. He picks me up on his scooter from my host family's house and we zoom down the gravel road to the hospital. From then on, I make the 20 minute walk by myself, passing small shops and houses, kids that yell "hello!", buses that spit up cough-enducing dust and exhaust, many curious locals, cows and water buffalo's.

As I enter the hospital, my initial reaction is that it looks like a run down building that should be condemned. It smells like musty lysol. The hospital administrator gives me a tour through the wards. We spend an hour sashaying through the pediatric, NICU, ICU, ortho, ENT, OR, medical and surgical units, finally stopping in the 30 bed ER.

HIPPA is non-existent here. (for all my non-medical peeps, that means patient privacy). The rickety metal beds are side by side with no curtains. There are also no IV pumps, except a few in the ICU. The ICU is the equivalent to the floor I worked on in Alaska, PCU, which is a cardiac floor. All patients wear their street clothes and none of them are wearing name bands. Strangely, there are no gloves to be seen. It's quite something. The hospital is unable to afford a lot of supplies, and the patients are just as poor.  The walls are botched with holes, the ceiling is missing multiple panels. It reminds me a lot of working in the hospital in the Virgin Islands.


In the ER, their system is very peculiar. For example, if one of the doctors orders a bottle of NS (fluids) to be given, one of the family members must walk around the corner to the pharmacy with the prescription and purchase it. If an IV is ordered, they must buy the needle and syringe and bring it to us to start the IV. An x-ray or CT scan must be paid in cash beforehand. A CT scan costs 5,000 rupees, or about $62, a steal compared to what it would cost in the US. But it's a lot of money to a poor Nepali farmer.

ER

The doctor's orders are written in English, but Nepali is spoken with the patients. I was given a 1 week language course which helped prepare me with the basics. A measly 5 years of college is required before you can be called a doctor in Nepal. To give them credit, they seem to be competent.


Some of my observations:
Narcotics such as morphine are kept in an unlocked drawer beside the nurse's station, which is frequently left unattended. I thought about how much we scrutinize about counting the narcotics that we keep locked up tightly in the US. Here they are accessiblee to any Joe Shmoe off the street.


Because of the low supply, a lot of equipment is reused. (oxygen masks, nasal canula, suction catheters, nebulizers). To no surprise, the beds are not washed in between patients. OSHA would throw a fit here!

OR

One of the charge nurses in the ER, Dinesh, speaks English exceptionally well, but a majority of the other nurses speak little English and are younger than 20 years old. They have an almost snotty attitude toward the patients, walking up to them, quickly giving them a shot in their arm, then walking away without saying a word. There is no "this is a shot to help with your pain, it's called Demerol. Ready?" Where's the compassion?! Acting this way is unimaginable to me.The patients don't expect much and rarely ask what medication they are being given. I feel sorry for them.


I feel grateful to have computers at my work that make things run so much smoother, here there are none. I haven't seen any bariatric beds either. Haha, good ol' obese America.


I was introduced to the head doc of the ER, Dr. Diarom, a short, middle aged gentleman with a friendly face and calm demeanor. I instantly liked him. I joined in on rounds with him, along with another doctor and 2 nurses. He speaks Nepali to the others, then turns to me and explains in excellent English. I get the lengthy version. He puts so much energy into educating me, and I soak it all in. Such a great learning experience. So interesting. Later he asked to talk to me in private. He told me how difficult it was to make the nurses follow the rules, that they were young and inexperienced and that their schooling was poor (this was blatantly obvious). He asked me what I would recommend to improve things. Oh geez, where do I begin? Gloves, handwashing, bedside manner, more education... I gave him a professional answer while trying not to sound too criticizing. He asked if I would give a class to the other nurses. Honestly, I believe it would be a waste of time.... their English is so poor and the information would probably go in one ear and out the other.


Medicine in this part of the world is ages behind and it seems so overwhelming to think about how much effort it would take to catch up to Western standards.

in my OR scrubs

The nurses also wear flip-flops! Even in the OR! Blood drips off the table and splatters next to their naked toes.  I would be sent home if I showed up to work in sandals. During a c-section one morning (amazing!), a big blood clot from the placenta plopped off the table, narrowly missing my bare sandaled foot. Eww. Socks are not allowed in the OR. I also saw a nephrectomy, I&D and right femur ORIF.


The bedside manner in this hospital is not up to par. It seems like the medical professionals are so cold to the patients, barely speaking to them. After the c-section delivery of a healthy baby girl, the baby was never shown to the mother. After the newborn was suctioned (with a catheter that had fallen on the floor), the nurse swaddled it and carried it around the OR like it was her own. Where's the bonding?!!


Nurses start IV's and draw blood with their bare hands. Maybe this is due to lack of education. Also, personal space doesn't exist. Nurses talk to me close enough to make me cross-eyed, practically standing on top of me, putting their arm around my waist. I'm a good foot taller than them (than everybody for that matter) and I squirm away uncomfortably.

Nephrectomy (kidney removal)  in the OR

After lunch one day (vegetable curry from the cafeteria), Dinesh asked me to accompany him to visit his cousin's newborn baby in the maternity ward. I wasn't going to pass that up! He was so tiny and adorable. We ooo'd and ahh'd at the little guy, then just as we were about to leave, the maternity nurse asked if we could assist her with inserting a foley in a patient who was unable to urinate after giving birth to twins. By a foley, I mean a tube in her bladder. First, let me paint you a picture.... I would estimate there were about 20 beds fit tightly in this room. The room was full of family members, both male and female. Next thing I know, this lady was spread eagle, exposed to everyone in the room while we inserted the catheter. Her neighbor watched as she ate her lunch of dahl baht. These were my thoughts: Can we just pull the curtain?! Oh, there are none. This is not happening. Oh Lord, this poor woman. Everyone can see her you-know-what. This is so wrong. Where are the rules? I forgot, this is Nepal, there are none. So this is how it is. I see....


Back at the ranch, I mean the ER, I'm standing at the bedside of a suspected lung cancer patient when I see something move in the corner of my eye. I look over to see a rat scampering along the ledge halfway up the wall. My eyes almost popped out of my head. I looked at the patients family members, whom also saw it. They were unphased by this sight. I watched as the rat tight roped his way across some exposed wires to the top of one of the disgustingly dusty cabinets. One of the doctors saw the look of horror on my face and said to me, "What's wrong? Never seen a rat before? Don't worry, it won't hurt you."
Just go with the flow...
The rat is thought to be the vehicle for Ganesh, one of the Hindu Gods, so the rodent that Westerners think is so icky is actually holy to them. You're talking to a girl that has a significant scar on the top of her foot from an injury that involved running away from a family of rats outside of her apartment in New York City. I'm not sure I can convince myself that these things are holy. But I'll try..... I guess the little ones are kinda cute :)

Namaste from Nepal!

After a chilly 10 days in Tibet, I was ready to meet it's neighbor, Nepal, which I've heard so many wonderful things about. I will be living here for the next 24 days, volunteering at a local hospital.

As we crept closer to the border, we quickly dropped several thousand feet as we switchbacked through the mountains. We reached the border and stepped into a much different environment. In fact, it was like a whole new world. You could feel it in the air.

I was picked up by my Nepali driver and driven 5 hours to Kathmandu. We drove on dirt roads through the countryside with the windows down, enjoying the smells of fresh vegetation and the sight of lush green landscape. We passed mountains gushing with waterfalls, falling carelessly into rivers below, creating picture perfect views. I felt a strong sense of déjà vu as we made our way through the small towns. Nepal shares a striking resemblance to India. And I loved it.

First, I need to explain this to you:
India was such a special experience for me. I grew a deep love for the country after spending nearly 3 months there. I think I was Indian in a past life :)

India~ you will either love it or hate it. It has a huge shock factor. YES, at times it was very frustrating and I felt like I hated it, but I think it's like childbirth, you forget about the pain you went through and love what came about from it. At times it will drive you crazy, then just when you think you can't take much more, it will open it's arms to give you a big hug, as if to say, "ok, you passed the test, you deserve this."

Traveling through India solo is an inexplicable emotional and spiritual experience. You will see things that blow your mind, and perhaps scar you for life. Which is why I always say you can't go to India and come back the same person. It's just not possible.

I remember trying to transition back into America after leaving India last December. When I stepped off that plane in freezing Minneapolis, I oozed India. From the henna tattoos on my hands to my Ali Baba pants. Everything on me was from India, right down to the gum I was chewing. I adapted so well there, learning to live like the locals, I had gotten so good at getting around by rickshaw and train, avoiding tourists at all costs, using the squat toilets with no t.p., eating street food (and not getting sick), speaking Hindi, and even had the "head bobble" going on, which I didn't realize how bad it was until I was around people who didn't do this. This is a sort of yes/no nod that the Indians use frequently during conversation. It's catchy!

"If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion and avoid the people, you might better stay home." ~ James Michener


I had just arrived in the U.S. of A, good ol' America, the country I had lived my entire life, and for the first time I felt like a stranger. Like I didn't belong. Everything was so.... CLEAN! The people were so WHITE.... and RUDE. Their accents so.... American. Things were so.... EXPENSIVE! I wanted to scream "Nooooo!" and run and hide in a corner and cry. I felt like I could see America for what it truly was. I had been so excited to get back home, but all I wanted to do was jump on the next plane back to my beloved India. I was in culture shock in my own country! I didn't realize how much I loved India until I left. It took months for me to process everything I had experienced.

With a sadhu in Kathmandu

India isn't for everyone.
Traveling in India is a dirty business. If you're a bit of a princess, you probably won't do well. You just have to let everything go. It's very liberating once you do. Don't worry about looking pretty or fixing your hair. Just have fun and be happy. Your fingernails will constantly be black underneath and your kleenex with turn black when you blow your nose at the end of the day. At some point, you will probably step in a big pile of cow poop on the street, and you could go days, maybe weeks, without a proper hot shower. It's colorful, it's fun, it's in your face and it is RAW.


A lot of people ask me what my favorite country is. It's hard to choose... Italy? New Zealand? Greece? But if I HAD to choose just one, it would definitely be India. It's the people that make the country, and the people of India have beautiful souls. They give you a warm fuzzy feeling inside. I can't quite explain.


They are just so sweet. It's no coincidence that their country is in the shape of a heart as big as theirs. Their smiles and actions are real, with an innocent child-like quality to it. They are some of the poorest people in the world, yet some of the kindest. They radiate with humbleness. If everyone strived to embody the characteristics they possess, the world would be a much better place.

Holy cow

For me to be back in an environment that is so similar makes me very happy. From what I've witnessed so far, the people of Nepal are just as kind and generous. When they offer to do something nice, your instinct makes you think, "ok, what do you want?" but then you realize they don't want anything in return. You could say they live by the "pay it forward" motto.

I knew I couldn't have picked a better country to volunteer my time and energy to. It feels so good to be able to give back to these people.

Mt Everest Base Camp

A major highlight of my trip was to visit the Mt. Everest base camp. I LOVE mountains (who doesn't?), so to catch a glimpse of the tallest mountain in the world was just too tantalizing for me to pass up. As a non-Chinese citizen, I was required by the government to hire a guide and driver for the entire 10 days that I was in Tibet. I scouted out the perfect company to use and had it all set up and paid for since last June. You would think for Tibet these tours would be fairly cheap, but it's quite the contrary. My anticipation grew as the date became closer.


There are no large cities near base camp, so we spent 2 nights in a small village called Tingri while we explored base camp. We stayed in a small family-run guesthouse. This was probably the worst living conditions I've ever stayed in. There was electricity for only 2 hours a day. No showers. My room reminded me of a depressing jail cell, with only a cot and nightstand. The bathroom (a squat toilet) was outside, around the corner. It was frigidly cold in this room and the wind blew through the cracks in the door and window.

At night it became pitch black from the lack of electricity, which allowed the stars to shine beautifully bright. You better believe no matter how badly I needed to pee during the night, this chica was not stepping foot outside her room! The neighborhood's pack of stray dogs frequently erupted into barking fits outside my door during the middle of the night, making it difficult to get restful sleep. But I couldn't sleep very well anyways. I was like a kid going to Disney Land the next day.


I slept with 4 heavy blankets on and every piece of warm clothing I had in my backpack, including a stocking hat, mittens, 2 wool sweaters, a fleece coat, a scarf, a puffy down coat, 3 pairs of wool socks, and long underwear.... and I was still cold. I'm not kidding.
Hawaii can't come soon enough.

The next morning, we were up before dawn to start the 2 hour journey to base camp. Meema (my driver), and Tashi (my guide), looked stone faced and tired as we met outside by flashlight. I, on the other hand, was full of energy with a permanent smile. We were going to see her today, the almighty Mt Everest!!


The stars were so bright against the black sky. I've never seen them sit so low. Our elevation was 17,000 feet. We transversed through the spectacular Himalayas during the twilight hours. I'm no stranger to the Himalayan mountains. They left a lasting impression on me when I hiked and camped in them while I was in Kashmir, India.
Well hello, we meet again....


We passed by herds of yaks and slipped quietly through a handful of sleepy villages in the dark, early morning hours. I was bundled up warmly, giving me flashbacks of when I was a little girl getting ready to play in the snow back in Minnesota. Except this time, I was going to play with the tallest mountain in the world! My, how times have changed. (although I still feel like that little girl inside)


The gravel road was windey and very bumpy. We were the only vehicle on the road. The Toyota Land Cruiser was shakin' what it's mama gave it and I was violently thrashed in my seat as Meema dodged the many large rocks in the road. It was like an amusement ride!

There were points where I held my breath as I looked over the edge of the dangerously narrow road and saw a deadly steep drop off. There were no guardrails, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared.
I couldn't help but imagine how this was the last drive for some brave climbers. It would be awesome to climb Mt Everest someday, but with the death rate and.... well, I just value my life too much.
But what an accomplishment it would be!


As we inched closer to majestic Everest, the sun began to rise over the Himalayas, which was nearly a religious experience in itself. Finally, as we rounded a curve, the clouds seperated and out peeked Mt Everest, giving us a come hither look as she sat proudly among the other mountains. She was definitely the show stopper. I thought, "Why Miss Everest, you're looking exceptionally beautiful today." (it's completely normal to talk to mountains, btw)

I've had a lot of amazing experiences while I traveled, and this was no exception. When we arrived at the actual base camp, we were the only ones there. I jumped out of the Land Cruiser with my prayer flags in tow. I could feel the effects of the altitude as the climb up the hill to the lookout made me short of breath. When I reached the top, I stared at Everest with wide eyes. It was hard to believe I was actually standing there at that moment.


After I pinched myself, I hung my prayer flags amongst the others as Tashi silently captured the event with my camera. It felt like it was my baptisim, or something like it. This is considered to be a holy mountain to the Tibetans, and Tashi seemed to be taking the whole thing very seriously. I was, however, still very energetic and excited. Tashi still had my camera, I said to him,  "do one like this!" as I jumped into the air, Tashi took my photo, "and do one like this!" as I pointed at Everest, Tashi took my photo.

I shuddered as I thought about how many people never made it off that mountain. I soaked in the view until I couldn't feel my toes anymore. The cold was unforgiving. I limped back down the hill to the warmth of the Land Cruiser. I was elated!


Until we meet again Miss Everest!

All aboard the train to Tibet!

The train to Tibet was scheduled to leave Beijing West station at 20:00. I arrived at the massive train station via taxi and found the waiting room for the train to Lhasa, Tibet. It was huge. I scanned the room for any whiteys like me. Nope. None. I'm accustomed to being in this situation, and I actually prefer it compared to the hoards of tourists.


I shuffled through the large room, stepping over bags and weaving through clusters of families sitting on the floor with their luggage. I could feel a sea of brown eyes on me, but I wasn't phased by this. India has made me a strong traveler. I could almost hear them thinking "girl, whatcha doin' here all alone?"


When the doors opened that allowed us access to the train, it was a mad dash, despite the fact that the train wasn't scheduled to leave for a good 30 minutes. "Why is everybody running? Am I missing something here?" I thought as I nonchalantly walked down the stairs to the platform, stopping to buy water along the way. Frantic passengers whizzed by me, like a bunch of crazy shoppers on Black Friday.

The scenery on the train did not disappoint, it was went on inside the train that made the trip less enjoyable. There was a constant hocking of loogie's, snot rocket blowing and smoking that I could have done without. I cringed every time I heard "cccckkkkk shoooo!" and heard the wetness splash against the sink in the hallway, the same sink I needed to brush my teeth in. It was nothing short of vulgar. Didn't their mama teach them any manners?


Despite the 'no smoking' signs clearly displayed, the Chinese men congregated near the bathrooms and puffed away on their stinky ciggies, day and night, polluting our precious air in the confined space, giving the air a look of perpetual fog.


The fact that they had no cosideration for everyone else's air just so they could feed their nasty addiction made it a difficult 48 hours. The lack of amiability along with the public display of bad habits that I have witnessed in China thus far make it very difficult for me to grow a liking. I just wasn't getting good vibes.

Not a single soul on the train spoke English, (surprise!) including the workers. While trying to communicate my order to the waiter (he didn't understand that fish wasn't vegatarian), a lovely Japanese lady named Joy piped up in her broken English and helped me order. She moved over to my table and we stammered through a conversation about our travels. She instantly became my new best friend as the only person I could actually speak to on the train.


The temperature dropped drastically as the softly rolling hills morphed into dramatic snow capped mountains. Suddenly I was in a winter wonderland. It was magical. Shaggy yaks and prayer flags became more frequent. So peaceful. Small villages with smoking chimneys floated by the windows as we chugged higher and higher over the barren land.


As the highest train in the world, supplemental oxygen was needed to counteract the thin mountain air. An outlet in each room hissed as it fed us oxygen. I was required to sign a waiver that said I was healthy enough to be in this high of elevation.

I was grateful to not experience any symptoms of altitude sickness; the same cannot be said about my friend Joy. She became ill from the decreased amount of oxygen and had to visit the hospital as soon as we arrived in Lhasa. Poor thing.


This reminded me of when I once had a patient, an ex-Hells Angels, that unexpectedly had a low oxygen saturation and started hallucinating. I secretly died from laughter as he started joyfully singing the song "yakety yak (don't talk back!)" in his loopy state. This song played through my head as I wondered if I myself wasn't hallucinating from the low oxygen levels. Was I rrrreally seeing all these yaks? Yakety yak!


24 hours into the journey over the rooftop of the world, we stopped at a desolate station to pick up more passengers. A group of Tibetans, carrying huge bags of who-knows-what hopped on the train. This was my first glimpse at the Tibetans. They had tan, leathery skin and were wearing their traditional attire. I couldn't help but stare. They looked like they came straight out of a National Geographic magazine. I was unprepared to see them so early into the trip, I caught myself saying "no way", as I looked at them with wide eyes. This was a "we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto" moment for me. One of the elderly Tibetan ladies made eye contact with me and gave me a genuine smile. I smiled back at her and felt so comforted to have personable contact with someone again after being deprived of this while in Beijing.


I'm going to like Tibet, I just know it.....

The GRRREAT Wall

Ahh the Great Wall of China, what can I say? It was..... GRRREAT! (said in my Tony the Tiger voice)

In case you didn't know, I'm a bit of a cheapskate when I travel. In order to travel for months at a time, I have to be. That's not to say that I don't splurge every once in a while. Because I do.

Naturally, I decided to skip the over-priced tours (tours are for tourists) and opted to find my own way to the Wall via the local bus, squeezed in tightly next to no one but locals. I want to get to know this culture firsthand.

Remember, at this point, the only words I know how to say in Chinese are- hello, water, vegetarian, yes, no and thank you. I'm guessing the only English word they probably know is "hallo!"  I knew this was going to be an adventure, and I welcomed it with open arms.

First, I needed to take the subway to the bus station. I was having a hard time finding the subway, so I took a shot in the dark and asked a group of Chinese "do you speak English?" one brave lady softly said "yes". I couldn't believe it! This was like finding a needle in a hay stack. She spoke better English than anyone in China I've encountered thus far. I was impressed.

Not only did she go out of her way to walk me the 7 blocks to the subway, she rode the subway with me to make sure that I got to where I was going. Out of the goodness of her heart. This gave me a lot of hope in the Chinese people. I thanked her profusely as we parted ways. She has good karma coming her way.

On a side note, the way the Chinese pack themselves into the subway is incredible. They create such a tight fit, I bet if I lifted my feet off the ground, I would be suspended in the air with my legs dangling. Can you imagine?!

I found bus #916 to bring me to the Mutianyu section of the wall. Cost: $1.75. Cost if I would have taken the tour: $50. See why I'm a cheapskate? Plus, this way is much more fun.

After a bit of research, I discovered the Mutianyu section is the more scenic and less touristy section of the Wall. The bus took me an hour and a half through the outskirts of Beijing. I could see civilization slipping the farther we inched away from the city. At one stop, a rough looking Chinese lady wobbled in, I scooted over and she sat next to me. She started rattling off a friendly string of Chinese words to me. I just nodded and smiled at her. Do I look like I speak fluent Chinese?

At the last bus stop I needed to catch a cab to get to the Wall. I bartered hard with a taxi man. A crowd of locals formed and got a good laugh for the day as I lightheartedly joked with the brown toothed taxi driver. Travel tip: ALWAYS barter with a smile :)

He waited 3 hours for me while I hiked the Wall. It was a fairly steep 30 minute hike before I actually reached it. My anticipation grew the closer I got. The first glimpse I got of the Wall stopped me in my tracks. This was one of the main reasons why I came to China. I've dreamt of this moment for a long time. A big smile spread over my face (the same way it did when I first saw the Taj Mahal, the Pyramids, the Colosseum....) When you've seen so many pictures of a famous structure, to actually see it with your own eyes seems so surreal.

I hiked up and down the rugged, uneven steps and through the many watchtowers of the old Wall. It slithered over the hills for as far as I could see, like a giant snake. What an amazing feat of engineering. The autumn colored leaves created a photo op at every turn.

It was a perfect day. To be more accurate, it was a GRRREAT day! To top it off, I had the most scrumptious vegetable dumplings at the bottom of the Wall. They were overpriced (for China) at $6, but they were worth every penny. You can't always be a cheapskate....

P.s. I'm headed to Tibet tonight on a 48 hour train. It's the highest train in the world! I will be in Tibet for 10 days, so I'll post again once I have Internet!

Welcome to China!

Minneapolis to Toronto to Beijing. 16 hours of being trapped in a metal tube. It was a looong flight. I was happy to be seated next to a friendly elderly Chinese couple, whom filled my head with endless knowledge of China.
Flying over the Arctic, the plane finally touched down in Beijing, the door opened and all the recycled dirty air spewed into the Beijing sky.

 The plane was filled with 95% Chinese. All 12 of the foreigners skimpered off to the comfort of their tour guide. I, on the other hand, was left to fend for myself. I would have to navigate myself through this city of 13.5 million, all on my own. This is what being a real traveler is all about. I was exhausted from the lack of sleep along the journey but the excitement of being in strange lands livened me up. This was a challenge, and I'm a sucker for them.
I breezed through customs and picked up my 35 lb backpack. First things first, I made a beeline to the ATM. I need me some yuan!
Next, finding my hostel. This had me a little nervous. Armed only with a small, hard to read map that I had printed off at home, I set off.
I was looking for the subway, but ended up taking a bus that I thought some Chinese lady told me would take me where I wanted to go. First off, I need to say that English is almost nonexistent here. If you do come across someone who speaks it, it's very broken and minimal.
I bopped on the bus for over an hour before we came to my stop. Along the way, the bus filled with the group of 12 tourists stopped next to us. The bus was illuminated inside and I could see the guide talking into a microphone, the tourists resembling zombies.
I chuckled to myself. THAT would be the easy way. But that's just not my style.
I slung on my backpack and skipped off the bus into an unknown world. I had no idea where I was on the map and it was dark out. SO I decided to take a taxi. I flagged one down, I pointed at the map where I wanted to go, he shook his head no and sped off, almost taking my arm with him. Um... Ok?
I was used to rickshaw drivers doing this to me in India. I shrugged it off and hailed another cab.
This time it was a cute old Chinese man. I opened the door and started to point at the map, but he was frantically gesturing for me to get in. I fumbled with my bag as he grew more anxious. Ok ok I'm getting in! It was a busy street, and he wasn't allowing me to take the time to put my backpack in the back seat. I thought 'how's this going to work?'
I squeezed in next to my bulky pack in the front seat, more like sitting half way on top of it. My head was actually rubbing on the ceiling of his cab. Guess I won't be wearing a seat belt. I pry my hand out from between the door and grab my iPhone. I point at the name of my hostel written in Chinese on my phone. I was prepared. He pulls over, puts on his reading glasses (this litttle old man was adorable) and looks intently at my phone. I'm watching him with a smile. I'm secretly praying at this point that he knows where it's at. His eyes light up and he speeds off. He speaks no English, except for one word, "hallo!"
He keeps looking over at me and laughing because I'm sitting so uncomfortably on my pack. This, in turn, makes me crack up, and we laugh the entire way to the hostel.
It's nice to know that no matter where I am in the world, a laugh and smile is always understood.
My eyes are glued to the window, watching Beijing whiz by, soaking it all in, trying so hard to figure this city out. We finally stop and he points down an alley and says  the only word he knows, "hallo"!
He keeps pointing and yelling "hallo!" Oh geez, he's making me nervous. "hallo!" Every time he says it I keep looking at him like he's going to tell me something. "hallo!" I pry myself out of his cab and make my way down the alley. Yes folks, I know it's not wise to walk down a dark alley at night in a foreign country, but did I really have a choice? After 5 minutes I arrive safely at my hostel and I'm sleeping the second my head hits my pillow after being awake for 28 hours. Uff da.