Creepy new friends, and why the buddy system is important

The other day, I went on a solo excursion to the Former Residence of Xia Yan for my Hangzhou history class. Who, you might ask, is Xia Yan? None other than a famous revolutionary playwright and screenwriter, who just so happened to make his home in northern Hangzhou during the better part of the twentieth century. Feeling brave, I hopped on the number 33 bus for eight stops, and landed in a part of the city that was distinctly unfamiliar.

All was well for the most part as I began my one-kilometer trek from the bus stop to the famous(?) historical marker, located on the sketchy side street of a back alley in a rather uncomfortable and clearly still underdeveloped part of the city. The photo below is a main street close to where Xia Yan's home was located- I felt uncomfortable whipping out my camera on the actual street.

 Keeping a hand on my purse and avoiding eye contact with the locals, I plugged in my headphones and tried to look as nondescript as a pale, blonde foreigner with Western facial features can in Hangzhou.

However, just as I was walking down the sidewalk, minding my own business, I suddenly felt something large and rubbery bump into the back of my legs. Startled and concerned, I took out my headphones and saw that I had just been hit by nothing other than a woman on an electric bike. She was staring at me intently and kept saying something along the lines of "are you ok?" to which I replied multiple times, in Mandarin, "just fine, thanks." I thought- thought- that was that. However, the woman immediately pulled her electric motorbike next to me on the sidewalk and started asking me all sorts of questions. At first it seemed harmless enough, so I went along with it. "What's your name?" "Where are you from?" and the like. I answered, thanked her for concern, and politely told her she could continue to go about her business- that I didn't want to "bother" her any further. But then, it started to get strange.

Woman: "Oh, but you are so very pretty."
Me: Nah, I'm not so pretty, just foreign.
Woman: No. You are beautiful. Actually, you're the most attractive foreigner I've seen in Hangzhou.
Me: Um, thanks.
Woman: I could help you, you know. Since you are so pretty, Jee-aiy-shee-kah (she asked my English name, and that was her interpretation of the pronunciation).
Me: That really isn't necessary...
Woman: No. You have a very nice body. Good figure. Very thin legs. And such pale skin!
Me: ...
Woman: Why don't you hop on my motorbike and I'll take you wherever you want to go.
Me (not wanting to be sold into sex slavery in Turkey): Um, thanks for offering, but I'm really ok. Actually, I have to turn here.
Woman: No, Xia Yan's home is up this way.
Me: I think I know where it is, I have a map. Really, I can find it on my own.
Woman: I'll go with you. Because you are so pretty!
Me: ...

The woman on the bike proceeded to follow me for ten more minutes, jabbering about how attractive she thought I was and asking questions about my study of Chinese, my family, my salary and what the weather is like in America. I answered as quickly as I could, feeling gradually more and more creeped out.

Finally, I arrive at the (surprisingly pretty) Xia Yan house. To my surprise, the woman decided to come in with me and follow me around the place. I stopped to take a picture of the garden below, when she got extra close, reached out, and grabbed my thigh right above the knee. "Such nice legs!" she said as I jumped away. Note to self: should have worn long pants. And brought along several tall, muscular males. I decided to take just a couple more pictures, then get the heck out of dodge.

While I was at the Xia Yan house, the women continued to follow me wherever I went, and when she noticed other visitors she made a point of pointing to me and shouting, "Look! Look at the pretty foreigner!" A pair of thirty-something Chinese men were near the garden above, and they turned their discerning eyes in my direction. "Do you know the foreigner?" one asked. "We just met. But she is very beautiful," the woman exclaimed. Soon, I had two more followers as I hurried through the Xia Yan Former Residence.

 

It was still ok until I stumbled across Xia Yan's former bedroom (pictured above; the figure in the picture is my creepy female Chinese "friend"/stalker). The two men, evidently underestimating my Chinese abilities, tapped my shoulder. One pointed to the bed and asked matter-of-factly, in Chinese:

"Would you like to go to bed with me?"
Me: I beg your pardon?
Creeper: You know, get on that bed and have sexual intercourse. How does that sound?
Me: Ooh, you know what? I have to go back to campus now. I have class in... ten minutes! Taxi?
Creepy lady: Oh, I know a good place to find a taxi. I can take you there on my motorbike.
Creeper: Leaving so soon? But you are sexy.
Me: Nice to meet you all. I'm leaving now, have to go to class and all. Bye bye. I can see myself out.
Creepy lady: I'll escort you to a taxi. It's the least I can do.
Me: No really, that's ok. Thanks but no thanks.

I finally lost all the creepers after I turned off the small street and waited on the side of the highway for a cab, on my way passing several scantily clad Chinese women in bright red high heels with crowds of men holding cigarettes looking at them from afar (and shooting conspicuous glances in my direction, too.) Prostitution? Quite possible. The first available cab came just soon enough to take me back to Zhejiang University of Technology and safety. And a shower. Sexual molestation/kidnapping/other various threats to personal safety avoided!