Tse had been right. The villagers were eager to obtain the Hong Kong dollars. For what Tristan thought was a piddling amount, he treated all four to dry clothes and a hearty meal.
Except for the rice, Marissa and Tristan did not recognize the food.
During the meal Marissa was reminded of Wendy’s comment that people in the PRC liked to stare. While they ate, it seemed as if everyone in the entire village came to gawk at the four strangers eating in the village common room.
When they had finished their meal, Tristan turned to Tse.
“Do you have any suggestions for us as to how to get out of the
PRO.
Maybe you know how we could get a couple of these Baggage Declaration forms?”
“I have never seen such a form,” Tse said.
“And if you do not have one, I’m afraid it will be a problem for you. Our government requires forms for everything, and our officials are of a suspicious nature. But I don’t think you should go to the border. I think it would be best for you to go to Guangzhou. I know there is an American consulate. I’ve visited it in an effort to get medical books.”
“That sounds like good advice to me,” Marissa said.
Tristan nodded.
“I wonder if there is an Aussie consulate as well.”
“If not, I’m sure we can talk the American consul into helping you too,” Marissa said.
“How do we go about getting to Guangzhou?” Tristan asked.
“I suppose it is a long walk from here.”
Tse flashed a smile.
“A very long walk,” he agreed.
“But it is not such a long walk to the next town, which is larger than this village. Chiang and I stayed one night in the town, and I know they have a medical dispensary similar to the one where I work.
I imagine they have transportation to Shigi, where the district hospital is located. From there we can go to Forshan, which is a big city.”
“That sounds good to me,” Tristan said.
“What do you think, Marissa?”
“Sounds almost too good to be true,” Marissa said.
“I like the idea of having a U.S. official deal with the Communist bureaucracy.
As Tse says, it’s a much better idea than going to the border and trying our luck. With everything that has happened, I don’t feel very lucky.”
“What about you, Bentley?” Tristan asked.
“I think I will go back via Macao,” Bentley said.
“I have a hui shen jing, which entitles me multiple visa-free entries into the PRC. I shouldn’t have much trouble. Maybe a short delay; but I’ll go with you as far as Forshan.”
The walk from the tiny village to the next town took only about an hour. First they passed by small plots of vegetables, then through rice paddies being worked by peasants with water buffalo. Whenever any peasants spotted them, they stopped and stared until the strange group passed from view. Marissa imagined they made for a curious sight: two gwedos and all four dressed in ill fitting clothing.
Entering the town, Tse conversed briefly with a man pushing a wheelbarrow. During the entire conversation, the peasant didn’t take his eyes off Marissa.
“He says the dispensary is just a little way ahead,” Tse reported.
Most of the buildings in the town were either wood or brick, but the health clinic was a concrete whitewashed structure with a roof made of sunbaked tile. They entered through a low door.
Both Tristan and Bentley had to duck to get in.
The first room was a waiting room. It was filled mainly with older women, a few accompanied by young children. One middleaged man had a cast on his leg.
“Please,” Tse said.
“If you would wait here I will introduce myself to the doctor.”
There was no space on the crude wooden benches that circled the room’s periphery, so Marissa, Tristan, and Bentley stood.
None of those waiting uttered a single word. They merely gawked at the trio as if they were extraterrestrial beings. The children were especially curious.
“Now I know how cinema stars feel,” Tristan said.
Tse reappeared, escorted by a tall, gaunt Chinese man dressed in a short-sleeved Western-style shirt.