Lost

There are countless ways to get lost in China, or at least in Chongqing. You can get lost outside, navigating through the winding mazes of narrow streets, beeping bikes, tall buildings, shouting vendors and steep stairs, or you can get lost on a full-beyond-capacity bus by missing your stop and ending up in a part of town you’ve never been to before, even though it looks exactly like where you wanted to go. Everywhere looks like where you wanted to go. Or you can get lost inside, wandering around a many-storied, multi-escalatored mega-mall that connects to four other many-storied, multi-escalatored mega-malls.
The malls here confound me. And the fact that I can spend an entire day exploring the many layered bowels of just one frightens me. And I didn’t even see the whole thing, nor did I go into most of the stores. I just walked. Around and around, up and up. I’m convinced this mall itself never ended, but I eventually had to give up on the endeavor. Especially when I reached the top floor and there, magically, was an exit. To the street level. I was on the sixth floor of the mall, thinking I had long ago left the option to easily exit behind, on the first floor, where I had entered. But there I was, on the top floor, blinking at the light streaming through giant glass doors and the cars zooming by outside.
At first I thought it was a trick of some sort. Beyond the doors lie another section of the mall and a gigantic movie screen showing images meant to make the shoppers feel like they’re on the first floor, giving them the impression that they can leave at any time. But surprise! You’ve found the coat check and you now have to spend another 4 hours finding the exit on the first floor. Haha, gotcha! Well, I wouldn’t let them fool me. I kept my hopes low and gingerly approached the trick exit. Expecting resistance, looking for any sign of a giant movie screen, which is entirely plausible in Chongqing, I pushed on the doors. They swung heavily open and a stream of smoggy air brushed past me and dissipated into the mall. It was real. Real smoggy air. I took a few steps. I was really outside. The cars weren’t actors in a movie, they were real. Real smoggy cars. Huh.
I turned around to look back at the now shut glass doors, reflecting my confused image. I looked lost. And tired. And really, really, unnaturally tall. I’m not sure how long I stared at my giant, mutated reflection, while cars darted to and fro behind me. Something had melted down in my brain and was taking its time to recover rational thought. Finally, my image was swiped away by two young women emerging from the mall, shopping bags dangling at their wrists. They giggled and chattered and glanced at me a million times until I forced myself into motion and launched back into the mall, as much as I disliked it. That sixth-floor outside world, though real, could not be comprehended, nor navigated, by me. Perhaps next time.
Retracing my steps as quickly and accurately as possible, I fled. I flew down escalators, brushed by meandering shoppers, ignored hullo!s left and right, resisted the draw of numerous cafes, stopped only once to eye a comfy looking sweater, and just forty minutes later, I was staring at the exact same scene I had seen on the 6th floor. But I was now on the first floor. Wasn’t I? Giant glass doors. Cars zooming by outside. The doors swung open and a gust of smoggy air entered the mall. Real smoggy air.
I walked out and this time I resisted the urge to glance back at the glass doors with their confused foreigner staring out. I didn’t let myself think about how strange this place is. I just walked until I found my bus stop. That’s the craziest thing. No matter how lost I feel here, I never am. I’ll be approaching absolute certainty that I’m miles away from where I want to be, and then the bus I’m looking for blares its horn at me as it drives by and, without thinking, I run to catch it. All anxiety dissipates. Easy as pie.