Travel Notes | Lanzhou Lanzhou

It was the same Friday night when I went to Lanzhou, and it was quite cold. After get off work at ten o'clock, I took the bus directly to the train station. After waiting for a while, I got on the eleven-ten train. After getting on the train, I washed and went to sleep directly. The carriage was swaying, all the lights were turned off, the curtains were open, and the light from the platform came in, illuminating an area directly in front of me. I put my bag away, stuffed my phone under the pillow, and fell asleep.

In fact, I made a symbolic appointment with three friends in the afternoon, but everyone had different things to do, so we decided to go on our own. When I was in school and now, I basically go out alone. I don’t have any concerns or worries. I just put my bag on my back, my mobile phone, and my ID card and go.

It was Saturday morning when I woke up, and the train was almost arriving at the station. After washing up and tidying up, I followed the crowd out. There were not many people at the door. I thought it was like other cities. It was noisy. They shouted at the top of their lungs for accommodation, travel and transportation, and were busy soliciting business. It turned out not to be the case. The surroundings were quiet and the crowds moved away to their respective destinations. Not many people come to Lanzhou during this season. The air in winter is dry and cold, and the wind is not strong, but biting. I haven't woken up yet and wanted to start the day with a bowl of beef noodles, so I got in the car and searched for a century-old restaurant - Ma Zilu in Dazhong Lane.

Sit on the bus and close your eyes to rest without looking out the window. I have been to many cities, so there is nothing new. Big cities or small cities, first-tier or second-tier cities, they all seem to have no great characteristics, and they are no different from the city where I live.

Nowadays, going out is very purposeful. Going to a place just for a few words, eating and seeing it means you have been there. Looking at the impressions of Lanzhou on the Internet, beef noodles and Yellow River are generally summarized. Typical snacks are milk and egg glutinous rice, sweet egg milk tea, gray beans, etc. The must-see ones are Fangha, Asiya and Ma Zilu. I went to Lanzhou for two days and experienced all of these except Asiya's hand-caught mutton. Now I can no longer recall the taste and sensation I experienced in a hurry, I just feel busy and superficial.

What I can remember now is the whole afternoon sitting by the Yellow River, from noon to sunset. For that ordinary experience, I want to write about Lanzhou.

The Yellow River passes through the city and looks far away from the mountains on the other side. It seems that roads and high-rise buildings are superfluous. From the center of Lanzhou to the scenery along the Yellow River, the city is divided into two. It seems that the hurried economy has instantly turned into a livable small town on the 18th line. But I just took the bus for dozens of minutes, squinting and taking a nap in the sun. Just taking a nap.

Across the Yellow River is the Baita Temple. Standing on the top of the temple, you can see the entire city. Seven or eight boys came out to play and asked me to take pictures of them. They leaned on the red railing and looked at the camera. Behind them were The water of the Yellow River flows leisurely. Afterwards, they thanked each other, their thick northwest accents sounding cordial. A group of people gathered around their mobile phones to look at the scenery for a few moments, then leaned on the railing to look at the scenery, and then walked around, enjoying the wind and basking in the sun.

After coming down from Baita Temple, I sat on the edge of the Yellow River and was in a daze.

There are many people, many children, many families, many couples, and many friends. I feel lonely and free.

Loneliness feels so great, it can only go hand in hand with freedom; freedom feels so great, but loneliness always goes with it. When you stay by yourself, you are always lonely and free, hard to escape, enjoying and tormenting at the same time. And both of these are normal, not counting acceptance and tolerance, but just going with the flow, which is regarded as life coming as promised.

The water is neither clear nor turbid. It touches the fine sand by the river, sometimes light, sometimes heavy. It's like the feeling of loving and hating someone at the same time. Sometimes the love is deeper and sometimes the hate is stronger. I put my hand on the fine sand, and it felt soft like the skin of a horse's belly. The water came in and was cool. This was water without emotion, as it should be. Someone was writing on the sand next to me. Sometimes the water flow was so fast that the traces were erased with just a wash, and sometimes it was smooth and there were only momentary ripples. It's like writing a steady calligraphy and lightly making a tick. The handwriting written by someone is still on it. The girl is smoking a cigarette and writing an unknown word and an unknown person's name. It is unclear whether she is playing or serious.

The younger children dug out small pieces of glass on the road, held them in their hands to show to the adults, and said they looked at the gems. The glass was shining brightly in the sun, and it was so bright that it was a bit dazzling. It was so beautiful. The adults were busy throwing away the broken glass in the children's hands, reminding them to be careful of scratching their hands. The child picked it up again, looked at the adult's disdain, and climbed up the slope again, going back and forth without stopping.

Merchants in the distance use loudspeakers to solicit business. Occasionally, you can see ships sailing out of a section of the river. The speed is not fast and you are not satisfied. Driving on the Yellow River, there is sunshine above your head. Sometimes the sun shines into your eyes, and you have to squint your eyes to block them with your hands. Looking at this long pearl necklace above the head, it is extremely thin and beautiful, as if it is shy and must be seen by squinting. I wonder what the scenery is like for those sitting inside. Can you feel the speed of the Yellow River? How does it feel to be held by hands like this again and again, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, sometimes gentle and sometimes cold?

And I just think it’s good to stay on the shore and watch quietly. Seeing that the Yellow River is so wide, you can't see the front and back of it. You can see people on the other side playing in the water, children running back and forth, people taking pictures one by one, and talking to the people next to them.

The Yellow River is quiet and silent. It keeps flowing, going back and forth in circles, and the sun always moves forward without stopping. It was as if the emotions in the world were swept away and pushed away, as if the laughter on the shore was silently taken away, kept for a few seconds and then returned with a more wanton smile.

The water of the Yellow River is constantly noisy, no matter day or night, it never stops. It keeps moving forward, like a clock moving forward in time, just like those loves will slowly be forgotten, and those hates don't want to be remembered. All the worldly joys and pains disappear in the waves, disappearing in the dark water, as if there is endless garbage hidden in the invisible bridge hole, staying together with the boundless tomorrow, constantly enveloping and forgetting yesterday. Because every day is so similar.

As evening approaches, the sunlight turns into goose egg yolk and spreads more aggressively on the water. The surrounding people and buildings are covered in darker colors, all shrouded in this color, gray and beautiful. The water surface was slightly lighter in color and could still be seen clearly. The crowds and buildings first dimmed and disappeared in the hazy light. The sun moved behind the tall building little by little, and the sunlight on the water slowly became narrower. Finally, it seemed as if God shouted "take it away", and the water lost all color. The sun went down, and the temperature dropped almost instantly. People put away their collars, put their hands in their pockets, and walked onto the Yellow River Iron Bridge to go to different next stops.

The Zhongshan Bridge across the Yellow River is very short, but the Yellow River is so long.

There is a literary and artistic practice, which is to walk along the Yellow River at night, smoke a Lanzhou, and blow the wind blowing from the Yellow River. There is a dance with ethnic characteristics in Pinpin Square, so that the smoke rings exhaled disappear with the evening breeze. In the night. But I don’t know how to smoke or drink. I can only buy myself a roasted sweet potato, then tuck my neck into my collar and hurriedly catch the bus back to the youth hostel I booked. After a good sleep, we walked along the Yellow River again the next day, and got in the car to go home in the afternoon, exhausted and satisfied.

I like the Northwest, especially the Northwest in winter. It is desolate and open, and the wind blows on the face, like loud slaps, making people extra sober. Those feelings of love will be forgotten slowly, and those feelings of hatred will not be remembered. Without distinguishing whether love and hate are correct or not, it is like the water of the Yellow River flowing forward, flowing and flowing.