All I Ever Wanted Was A Cream Cheese Won-ton.

Our last minute in China was like 100's of minutes that proceeded it; me standing next to a bus furtively arguing with a small uniformed man who was quickly pulverizing logic, reason and common-sense under his black boot of communist bureaucracy and asinine rules.

"Look we just want to get our bikes off the bus now and ride down into Pakistan."

The little uniformed man looked confused as if this request was the height of absurdity.

"You can no ride," he says.

"Why?"

The question seemed to flummox him. Flabbergast him. Shock and awe him. It seemed he literally took a step or two back. Like I had punched him or pulled a gun on him. We had seen this type of response to a simple 'why' time and again in China. It seems Chinese government officials are trained on 'who' (the evil dhali lama), 'where' (China of course will rule everything), 'how' ( through the strength of the people) and 'what' (world domination), but no one ever gets to 'why.' He didn't say a thing. Just stared at me.

"Why?" I repeated myself, making sure he understood the most important of all question words.

"Why can't we ride?"

He caught his breath, you could see the wheels turning. "It is rule."

"Why is it a rule?"

"Because is rule."

"But why is there a rule?"

"For your safety." Now he thought he had seized on something. His wheels had stopped spinning and he was on solid ground.

"Is the road dangerous?," I asked, knowing full well the road was not dangerous.

"Yes! Very dangerous!"

"Why is the road dangerous?" and the perfectly circular illogic began anew and ended with him shouting that he was an authority and I should trust him. 'Why,' as we learned in China was strictly verboten. 'Why' was not going to get you anywhere. 'Why' bamboozled them. 'Why' challenged the absurdity of modern day China, and 'why' was not going to get your bikes off the bus and you on them and out of China. 'Why' was worthless.

The two previous days had seen us in a Tashkurgan bus-station/immigration-post stomping our feet, yelling, lecturing on the merits of democracy and the demerits of state owned monopolies, pouting, cajoling and finally resigning to the fact that we would have to pay an outlandish $35 dollars to be driven, on a bus, 100 miles to the pakistan border. We enlisted our Chinese published English/Chinese "Tourist Phrasebook" to help us battle the bizarre conjoining of immigration and bus-ticket-selling. However, as one would expect, our dictionary was completely devoid of the words for 'bad,' 'evil,' 'shameful,' 'muy malo,' steal,' 'thief,' 'robbery,' 'robber,' 'corruption,' 'pathetic,' and 'why don't you go kill yourself.' Apparently, in China, tourists do not run into situations that would require that type of vocabulary. Upon further retrospection, we realized the inclusion of such words would of been a lot more useful than the two entire pages they dedicated to "names of Chinese trees." Never, in sixty days of travel, did I care what a birch was called in Mandarin.

And this is China, for me, in a nutshell. The mostly wonderful experiences we had with the people and the culture and the land were always overshadowed by the prodigious ridiculousness of the government. Of the authorities. Of little men in big uniforms. Of silly rules and mandates and regulations.

"Why are we being kicked out of our hotel and 11 pm?"

"Why can't we use the internet today when we used it yesterday?"

"Why can we not ride on this road anymore?"

"Why are you checking our passports when they were just checked 10 miles ago?"

"Why can I not sit down and eat in this town?"

"Why can I not find a damn egg-roll in this country?" (this might or might not be the fault of the government).

So was China worth it? Probably. China was fantastic- most of the time. The Tibetan regions and their people were amazing. The culture, despite Beijing's best efforts, was vibrant and alive. The people were curious and as welcoming as they could be under the watchful eyes of authorities. Most of our 60 days in China were spent amused by the outlandish generosity we met around every corner. The food was awful and so were the toilets, but we rode away truly appreciating the time we spent there. 60 days ended up being about ten days too many and by the time we crossed into Pakistan we were ecstatic to be able to speak English with people. Listen to devirgent political views and drink Mountain Dew. Seriously though, the food in China is awful.