Send-off Party at the San Francisco Brewing Company in Beijing

Chen Xinhu (next to me in blue) is a professor at Beijing University, and also teaches English to many of expats. Wang Ying, behind me, is a freelance journalist who writes for many womens and airline magazines. They took me on a wonderful shopping spree during my last visit to Beijing. Their friend, Lu Fengming, in green, is an economist for the "International Consulting & Service Centre State Commission for Restructuring the Economic Systems in the People's Republic of China." (Whew!)

Albert Lai, President of ASM and CBW Los Angeles/Beijing.

Janny Tang, right is the Marketing Executive for ASM, and editor of the CBW website.

Yang Hongjian (left) is the Foreign Liaison for the International Sports Exchange Centre, and is providing me with contacts in many of the places I'm visiting. Cain Xu is Albert Lai's assistant at ASM Overseas. Yang was his physical education teacher in school!

Nick's been in China for 11 years, commuting back and forth to San Francisco. He is a partner at Clear Thinking, is a solutions and analysis firm. He's given me some very good travel tips, says that the Muslim areas of Yinchuan and Linxia I'm visiting are very interesting.

New friend (met online) Scott from Maui -- via Japan -- is helping to put in the new aquarium at the Beijing Zoo. A bicycle activist in the states he's frustrated with China for beginning to use so many cars. "They had the right idea in the first place with the bicycles.... now they're going in exactly the wrong direction!"

Jackson, a wildlife specialist, is also helping with the Beijing aquarium project. He's wandering the marketplaces and finding some "very exotic" animals for sale there. Some that belong in places like Australia. "I want to take them home, and take care of them," he says.

A party, a marketplace, and a search for motorcycle parts...

The San Francisco Brewing Company in Beijing feels just like home, complete with on-site microbrewery and the guy at the bar who just has to buy you a drink. I had come early to chill for a little while, to be alone with a Pale Ale and my motorcycle manual, but there he was, and this is Beijing and not San Francisco, after all, and sometimes people just have to talk with others from their home country. So that was that until the whole big group came to the rescue.

Except for the big-screen Chinese MTV it was really a clone of the microbrew in San Francisco where there is also always a healthy melange of nationalities, a good chunk of it Chinese. We drank pints in heavy glasses, ate California nouvelle cuisine with knives and forks, and had a wonderful time getting to know one another. And then we stepped outside.Well, I've already described the traffic situation....

Tomorrow I'm headed out to the wild wild West of China, so today I met John Shuck, the leader of the Chang Jiang pack, who was to help me to buy parts for my journey -- only all the parts shops took the day off in honor of labor day and all I was able to buy was spokes.

John and Susan live in the burbclaves about 15 minutes north of Beijing city, that is, if there's no traffic, but then I've already described the traffic situation...

I was early, so killed some time at the marketplace down the road. It was lunchtime anyway so I tried some dumplings that turned out to have meat and something green in it, and a cookie with filling that turned out to be sweetened red mung bean. I pretended to like it until I got away from there. It's hard to smile at the chef when you want to spit it out.

These are the nicest little scallion pancakes and you can find them just everywhere, along with something pronounced "jowza" which are the steamed or fried dumplings. I call them surprise packages, because it is impossible to tell what's in there until you've bought them. Usually it's ground meat and some green vegetable like bok choy.

There was a noodle stand where a guy was stir frying something with the aplomb of a gourmet chef. He'd dump some liquid in the wok, throw it around a bit and tilt it to the fire so the mixture would flame.

I was watching intently when an old man came up and started admiring the chef's technique with me, an excuse to talk, and take a look at the digital camera. I gave him a look through the viewfinder and he jumped. Some kids came by and looked, too, and they both jumped. Then we just yapped at each other about the chef, each in our own language, and understood each other perfectly. He was very pleased to have his photo taken, too.

Then it was time to meet John.

"Beijing Riviera" is a gated community of homes that look like any you'd see in a nice neighborhood in Ohio or California, only there's a big gate around it and a little guard shack outside of which stands a guy in uniform who snaps to attention when you arrive, that is, if you're recognized. Otherwise he doesn't raise the little red and white striped barrier but demands to be convinced that you are authorized to enter.

"The guy with the button and the guy who gives the signals are in sync," John told me. "The other day they waved me through, but the gate came down on my helmet and mirror. Broke the sucker off (the mirror) I turned around..they said sorry sorry..the usual. I did another U-turn and and ran over one of their traffic cones. Drug that sucker about 300 yards..."

Inside the "Beijing Riviera" John showed me his latest project:

The "Cherokee" is a Triumph knockoff he bought for 1000 rembi ($122). It needs a bit of work, but some people like that kind of work. (There's a closeup of the bike in the motorcycle maintenance section.) Then he helped me go over my Chang Jiang, and we made a list of parts that it would be a good idea to carry.

My new beast, the Yin-Yang Machine. Note the license plate."Very lucky," the Chinese say. "Oh la la," the Americans say.

I took off down the road, a little anxious that I wasn't very well equipped to travel far, but then I spotted a parts shop.(You can spot a parts shop by all the broken motorcycles sitting around.)

When I rolled up everyone came running from all the surrounding shops to see what I wanted. (I'm actually getting used to people coming to stare up close. They really haven't seen many foreigners so most of the time it's easy to forgive.) I kneeled down, yanked the spark plug wire, and pointed at the plugs. Then I held up 4 fingers while telling them in English what I wanted. But they wouldn't understand, thought there was something wrong with the engine. One of them poked his finger in the hole, burned it, and jumped back. By this time I'm jumping up and down and using sign language and chattering away in English like a maniac but they just glance at me every once in a while and look back down at the engine. Finally a woman from the shop next door broke through, looked at what I was saying, and instantly discerned what I wanted. Boy did she start yelling. I couldn't understand a word but I know she was calling them a bunch of dufus heads and to stop making things so complicated. I thanked her, we laughed together, and she went back to her shop. Most of the crowd dispersed in shame while the two mechanics watched me point at parts. One of them was painfully shy and it was hard to get him to look at me, I know I'm the first foreigner he's ever encountered, and communication for an outgoing person is sometimes an intimate enough process, but we eventually got used to each other.

Spark plugs are "naah-de" or something like that. I wanted "eiger naah-de" (4 spark plugs). No is "mayo." Yes is "deaga" and "this" "that" or "uh" is "neaga". Neaga neaga deaga deaga... you hear that a lot. There were "mayo" headlight bulbs and "mayo" clutch and throttle cables. but I got plugs and points, and that's a start.

Further down the street I get bungie cords and a tire pump at a neat store where everything is on shelves off the ground inside, and labeled with the price in Chinese and in Pinyin (Roman numerals). This is extremely rare. I gather all the stuff I need and the guy figures it on his abacus and shouts the total at me in Chinese. I take out my calculator and motion to him to punch in the price, but he just stares at me like I'm an idiot. He shows me his abacus and I stare at him like he's an idiot.

I pull out a 50, which seems a reasonable sum. He takes it, but shouts some more. I am standing there stymied. I'm not getting change so it must be more than 50. Most people take a demonstration bill from the cash box when this happens, but he just stands there and shouts. I'm trying to figure out if it's just normal shouting or if it's hostile shouting. I haven't really figured out the difference, yet.

I take out a 10. He still shouts. He's starting to really shout, not just normal shout. I can tell because the words are getting closer together and sharper, and it's pitched a tone higher. I know I look pretty stupid standing there staring at him but I don't know what else to do. He picks up the abacus again and waves it front of my face, pointing at the beads and getting red in the face. Apparently I'm an idiot that I  can't read the abacus. I vaguely remember playing with one at my grandparent's house when I was little, but it was just something to click together, to make noise.

Finally a woman from another part of the shop comes over and joins in the shouting. I look her in the eye and see she's not doing the hostile kind of shouting, and she looks into my eyes and sees a complete lack of comprehension.So she goes to his cash box, gets a tiny bit of change, hands it to me and shoves the goods my way.

I am out of there, and into the traffic. You wouldn't believe the traffic...