The front door opens before we get all the way across the square.
‘Welcome, welcome,’ says the woman standing on the doorstep. She is tall and slim, long dark hair in one braid over her shoulder. She has high cheekbones and shining almond eyes, and she is wearing faded blue jeans and a cream smock-top with multi-coloured tassels hanging from the neck. She looks fresh and welcoming, and I feel shabby in front of her. Even Carrie doesn’t look so fresh after nearly thirty hours on a train without a shower.
As we get closer, I see that she has tried to make an effort with the garden. Despite the scorched patches of grass, there are planters lining the wall under the window, a mix of flowering and spiky cacti, and a few coloured rocks in the dry soil. She sees me looking.
‘Best we can do in this climate. Nothing grows, you know. You might have noticed the fields – if that’s even what we can call them. I’m Geriel,’ she says. ‘It means a bright light in Mongolian. We like to choose our names carefully in our culture. It’s nice, to do this, is it not? And you must be Carrie—’
‘Actually, I’m Carrie.’ She steps forwards and the woman at the door beams. ‘This is my friend, Violet.’
‘Hello,’ I say, feeling shy all of a sudden. I don’t know why, but I hadn’t expected this kind of welcome. This kind of accommodation. Meeting Carrie in the Beijing International Hotel, I had assumed that she would be staying in places like that all the time, but it looks like I misinterpreted that. It’s unlike me to get it so wrong.
‘Come inside, you must be desperate for some tea … and perhaps a shower?’ Geriel says.
‘In that order, definitely,’ says Carrie.
We follow Geriel into the house, and it’s clear that she has put a lot of effort into the interior. I suppose I shouldn’t have judged the place by its exterior, but it’s a natural reaction. I saw something I liked in Carrie, and so far, she doesn’t disappoint.
‘This is the kitchen, and the lounge off it. Please come and go as you please. We like to gather here at the end of the day to chat, to drink tea. To talk about our day … and to give thanks.’
There are various prints on the walls, Buddhas and sunsets. Beaches. Beautiful women in impossible yoga poses. Various words of wisdom printed in a pretty typeface on top of the images:
‘It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles.’
‘The root of suffering is attachment.’
‘Speak or act with an impure mind and trouble will follow you.’
I try to catch Carrie’s eye, but she seems enthralled by them. Personally I think it’s all a bit much, and the thought of sitting in the lounge with a group of strangers, giving thanks, makes me shudder. I might look like a hippy today but, like I said, it was meant to be beachwear. However, letting my hair go matted just makes it easier to handle, because I don’t have to think about it. I know that one day soon, I’m going to have to let someone cut it all off, but for now, it’s doing the job. Besides, if I dress like this, I blend in. And I’ve found that blending in is the best way to get what you want.
Finally, Geriel shows us to our room – two single beds with yellow crocheted bedspreads, a white painted dresser with another cactus sitting on a wooden coaster, and a small bathroom off to the side. Despite my initial reservations, it’s perfect – and I am delighted to throw my bag on the floor and lie down on a bed that is at least double the width of my body. Don’t get me wrong, I loved sleeping on the train – but this feels like luxury in comparison. There was barely room to swing a cat in the cabin.
‘At last,’ I say, kicking off my boots. ‘I thought she was going to make us join a moon circle before lunch.’ I lift my head to look at Carrie, who is already unpacking, removing neatly rolled clothes from her bag and putting her toiletries on the dresser.
‘She’s all right. You need to play the game, Violet. Soak it all up then discard it. Smile in the right places. It gets you far in this world … especially if you want something.’
I feel myself bristle at her words, at her insinuation that I am not doing things right. I’ve been travelling for long enough to know how it all works. I might not be a people-pleaser like Carrie, with the shiny hair and the fake smile, but I usually get what I want. She’ll realise that soon enough. I say nothing – deciding that letting her believe she is educating me is the way to ingratiate myself further. I want something, all right. And I know I’ll get it.
‘Anyway…’ she carries on, realising that I am not going to contradict her, ‘let’s get freshened up and get out of here – I want to explore. It has to be more than cracked concrete and dull buildings. The guidebook said—’
‘Do you want to have a shower first, or shall I?’ I give her my best smile, and it knocks her off guard.
‘Oh. Right, yeah. You go. Hang on…’ She rustles about in her bag and pulls out a fat red tub. ‘Put this on your hair, leave it in while you get washed and whatever. It’ll soften those tangles…’ She cocks her head to one side, appraising me, like a little bird. ‘I might even be able to brush it for you.’ She stands beside me at the dresser and we look into the mirror together. She pulls my hair back off my face. ‘Smile,’ she says, and I have no choice but to oblige. She smiles too, both of us grinning like lunatics into the mirror. ‘See? We’re quite alike, actually, when you get that mop out of the way. I’ll give you a makeover and then we’ll hit the town.’
Any stab of annoyance I started to feel has disintegrated now, with the soft touch of her fingertips on the back of my neck.