Barbarian Lost by Alexandre Trudeau Page A

laughs at my interest, which I can scarcely hide.
    Our meal consists of shrimp from the reservoir, fried in their shells with salt and spice, big flat beans fried with garlic and herbs, and a thick soup of meat and vegetables.
    The young boy has been shy but intrigued, pretending to do his homework to the side but instead watching us intently. He has a shaved head and roughed-up knees and face—the kind of sturdy child with whom I might have run wild as a boy.
    Viv asks him if he’s learning his characters. He answers in theaffirmative in a gruff but friendly manner. His mother then tells him that we are people of the wide world and he should talk to us to see what we’re like. She tells us he’s learning English and urges him to speak to us. The boy indulges her: “One, two, three,” he says with great concentration.
    The conversation continues between us all with few words but much laughter. The hostess is curious to know where Viv and the driver come from. It turns out that they are both from Shandong Province. We all share an unabashed chuckle about this happy coincidence and toast Shandong. The meal costs us twenty dollars altogether.
    â€œTell me about Shandong,” I ask Viv on the way back to Beijing.
    â€œWell, my people, Shandong people, are everywhere,” she says.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œShandong has always been populous. The floods and the droughts and the poverty have long made people emigrate from the place. But it is also the province of Chinese religion, where both Confucius and Mencius originated, so it’s always on our minds.”
    â€œI’m glad we’re going there next. A place to think about the Chinese soul,” I say.
    â€œAre you religious?”
    â€œLet’s just say I believe in ghosts,” I answer with a smile.
    â€œGhosts! Weren’t you laughing at me for being superstitious?” she says. “I figured you were the scientific, rationalist type.”
    â€œI was just prodding your beliefs.”
    â€œWell, I think it makes sense to remain vigilant toward religion,” Vivien says, then adds, “Lao-tzu says, ‘It was when intelligence and knowledge appeared that the Great Artifice began.’ He meant for us to be wary of any organized system of belief.”
    â€œTo me, all organized systems of belief are beautiful. And fragile.”
    â€œI have to admit that I have also always been curious about all matters spiritual,” she says. “Who taught you about religion?”
    â€œMy father.”
    â€œMine too.”

CHAPTER 3
The Old East
    The head pillowed on a spear, waiting for the day to break.
    â€”biography of Liu Kun, Book of Jin , seventh century
    We are headed toward Shandong Province in our chartered car. Our first objective is Jinan, an industrial city on the banks of the Yellow River. It’s a six-hour drive south from Beijing. The highway passes through a melancholy landscape of intensive farming. The area is oppressively flat and entirely pressed into food production. Grain, cabbage, soy and corn are interspersed with the occasional grove of poplar, planted as windbreaks. From the highway, the territory seems almost empty of human inhabitation. The planners who built the highway charted its path to avoid the congestion of human settlements that can only occasionally be spotted on the horizon.
    Just before Jinan, the landscape becomes more watery. The Yellow River has been tapped for irrigation for millennia and still is. Dikes and waterways are everywhere. Finally, the river proper appears. It’s spanned by many low-lying bridges. As we cross one, the vista opens up a little. Jinan splays out along the river. Its numerous concrete high-rises and smokestacks contrast with a backdrop of hazy blue hills. To complete the industrial picture,there’s a train crossing the river and another train working its way along tracks on the distant shore.
    A major hub, Jinan is where the main