The Silk Road Blog Entry #2

Mai Wong
April 28, 115 AD

We have been so busy that I have not gotten a chance to write! I had even forgotten about the paper until I changed into my second change of dress. So much has happened. We are in Delhi, India, right now. I will tell you about it later.

There is bad news. Father says that we will not be going to Europe anymore because a big tsunami has destroyed Antioch and they were just recovering. I was disgusted by the ways of God, but prayed in the small Buddhist temple we found for the many people whose homes were destroyed.


We have met so many new people on our trip! They all have such complicated yet unique languages as well as such rich skin tones. I see new people every day, coming from over the mountains or across the desert. The rich and noble people wear fine gowns made of silk or thin wool. The cloth is so intricately embroidered. These people are not nice. They look down at my father and me when we go to trade. They stare rudely at my statuette of Buddha and whisper to their comrades. Although they are like this, I still feel jealous of their extravagancy. I like to think that I have grace and I am poised, but then I see the nobles and I know that I am ungraceful and not poised at all.


The poor people linger around all day at corners and at the edges of the trading posts. They wear rags that barely cover their body, and I am forced to look away when I see that some aren’t even wearing clothes! I, myself, brought two dresses along. I have two more at home. Father has brought a traveling outfit and a nice outfit. When he trades, he wears the nice outfit, but compared to the other gentlemen there his attire is not nice at all.

I made friends with a local girl. She saw me running my hands over the bright cloths at her mother’s trading stand and motioned for me to follow her. She took me to her house and we tried on each other’s clothes. Surprisingly, the sari that she wore was light and quite comfortable. Even though we couldn’t verbally communicate with each other, I felt that I had met someone I would always be friends with.

<--- This is a picture I painted of the Indian girl
I made friends with.

One week ago our supply of spices was stolen. My father is still beside himself. He had a promising buyer for those spices but they had just disappeared. I told him he shouldn’t worry but he never listens. So, I went out into the woods and found some wild chilies and rice growing. I made a bag with a layer of my dress and brought them to Father, who hugged me very tightly and cried tears of joy. He said that these would bring good money in Persia.


My favorite thing to do here is go into town. I love visiting the Hindu temples and seeing how they are able to depict so much through so little. All of Delhi has such a wide variety of bright colors, unlike China. At home, it is only appropriate to wear pastels or neutral colors. The food here is even colorful. It is so pretty and it tastes so good, but it is too spicy! We pay for everything with Indian coins. We found a man who can take Chinese money and transfer it into Indian money. It isn’t very hard and it is convenient to have the same currency as our surroundings.

<--- This is a painting I copied out of a Hindu
temple of the Lord Rama.

Father and I deal with strange looks every day not only because we look different and speak a different language, but also because we openly practice Buddhism. I was taught that Buddhism was the right religion to have and I believe it is, so why do people stare at me?


I have to go now. Father is calling me for dinner. I hope to write when we are in Persia, although I only have about a quarter of a page left. I am still keeping my paper hidden because even in India people are so eager to get their hands on just one piece. I write with an old pen and ink I found in my father’s room, but it will run out soon. Zài jiàn (good-bye)!