Zhengzhou itself is primarily a rail hub, but it sits close to two genuinely significant sites: the Shaolin Temple at nearby Songshan, the birthplace of Shaolin kung fu and a major Zen Buddhist site, and the Yellow River, China's second-longest and historically its most consequential waterway, with a scenic area not far from the city.
The train from Beijing to Zhengzhou was my first real taste of being a foreigner in China — and people were wonderful about it. Fellow passengers waved me over to eat with them, played music, sang, and even pulled me into their video calls, all while I knew barely a word of Chinese. Outside Zhengzhou station, strangers guided me until I found my brother, who took me back to his hostel campus. Over the next few days I saw his university, met his faculty, walked through the hospital, and ate at little local noodle stops.
It was here in Zhengzhou, at his apartment, that I first met Dr. Nkandu — a friend who, years later, would reappear on the other side of the world in my Zambia journey. Some people you meet once and never see again; others quietly become recurring characters in your life.
On the Beijing-to-Zhengzhou train, passengers I'd never met invited me into their afternoon - food, music, singing, even their phone calls - though I spoke almost no Chinese. And when I stepped off, more strangers helped me find my brother outside the station. Kindness, in a language I didn't share.