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Sightseeing by Bus and Massages

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IMG_7810I woke up from a variation in the conductor’s yelling; someone wants my card and returned my ticket to me (one must give the ticket to a guard after leaving the platforms to prove you didn’t ride too long by “accident”). After waking up the remaining three chinese students informed me that the train was some 20 minutes late, but since I probably couldn’t check in so early anyway it didn’t matter much to me.

Actually I had some time to kill before getting to the hostel, perhaps some sightseeing? But having all the luggage it would need to be on a bus or similar though. I got an idea, why not make things a little more interesting than showing the hostel’s card to a taxi but instead try to find my way there myself? Said and done.

I started by walking along with the crowd, perhaps I would pass a bus-stop with a name that I would recognize on the routes? No luck there, so I started walking a road called something-east in english. The hostel was located in northeast of Beijing and I was on Beijing West station so how hard could it be? After some 15-20 minutes of walking I stumbled into a food stall and grabbed some fatty pancakes to munch down as I walked. It was perhaps time to get on a bus, the question was which one. I decided that 34 seemed like a fair enough number, and jumped on.

The conductor on the bus tried to explain something when I pointed to northwest on my map of Beijing. I smiled. She charged me 0.05 € (which is strange since the cost is 0.1 €) and scribbled down something on a note, I could read the number 390 but that’s about it. She then gave me a sign to leave the bus after a few stops. I waited until I saw a bus with the number 390, jumped on and showed my note to the driver and conductor (feeling a bit like a illiterate schoolchild only lacking a name tag around my neck). They didn’t charge me but instead tried to explain something in chinese. I smiled. Another note was scribbled down, this time the number 974 was readable. After a few stops I was instructed to get off and did so.

Here it was a bit trickier to find the bus-stop to 974 though, so I walked a little bit until I saw something looking like a larger bus-terminal. I went in and asked at the information if they spoke english. This made a security guy walk up to me and gesture me to follow him. Through security, into the waiting-hall, through it and out to some girl verifying tickets. She gestured to another girl, and the trio walked all the way back to the information. I pointed on the northwest of my map and tried to pronounce chaoyan (the rather big district I was going to). No luck. After a long discussion involving several other people and me smiling someone said 715 in english. Everyone seemed happy and 715 was apparently the new black.

Well outside I found a stop for 715, waited and jumped on. Did the now quite drilled routine with map and speech, the conductor did not charge me but instead shake her head. Was I on the wrong bus? No. I should go with 715, but in the other direction or something, she gestured me to wait and pointed out a bus-stop on the other side at a stop. I went there, waited for a 715 and jumped in.

Same story, the conductor does not charge me but starts to scribble down yet another note. This time 974 was teh shit. I smile. I ride for a well 30 minutes in the warm bus and get off when gestured too. I should cross the street to reach the stop for 974, but I was interrupted by a sight of an Yoshinoya sign. I took this as a sign and went in for my second breakfast. 1.3 € later I felt that bus 974 would be my lucky bus, the clock was now half past eleven and I’ve already met so many helpful chinese.

So which way was the bus-stop now again? Searching the area a bit I realized that a bus stop for 974 was nowhere to be found, well it was fun while it lasted. I got into a cab, showed my card and some 10 minutes later I start to recognize the streets. The driver is lost though, and starts to call the hostel. I friendly give her direction as she goes (a bit startled by my mad navigations skills) until we finally get to Poachers Inn.

I put down my stuff and give Ray and Florence a call, Florence answers and I get over to their place to get more stuff and return the Tibet book. We chat about Tibet and when leaving I mention that I plan to give my china-bought jacket to charity rather and if ask she might know how those things work in Beijing. Is there a coordinated place or should I just give it to a random beggar? She says that the random beggar might be rather well off from the start and just sell it, but if I really want to give it away she can take care of making sure it ends up with someone needing it. This sounds perfect and the warm cosy feeling after being a good guy stays with me all the way in the taxi back to the hostel.

I decide to get some pedicure after gathering my complete luggage and realizing that someone has kindly set up a unprotected wifi accessible from my room. I had no idea my feet could deteriorate so fast, I feel sorry for the girl when she uses something resembling a cheese slicer with much needed effect. After pedicure, scrubbing and a nice foot massage I grab some food at a classic corner/worker-place without english menus. Some dumplings and a dish ends up costing 0.7€. Not that bad.

After some hesitation I decide to pay Dragonfly Massages another visit, money is only money while spending money is what counts, right? Two hours of “The ultimate indulgence” and I walk back home feeling like a new man. On the way back I pick up some cookies and foul liquor to have a cosy night at the hostel. The liquor was the same mentioned in earlier episodes bought by Ulf and strangely enough it wasn’t more drinkable this time. Some surfing, trying out newly downloaded Fallout 2 and it was time to sleep again.

Same same, and not so different

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DSC00008Waking up by the familiar yelling and pleasant bright light flowing from the lamps some 30 centimeters above my face I felt that this day would not be so different from the other days spent on the train. After a instant noodles breakfast and some reading the family below got ready to leave. Having the now docile kids leaving with risk of getting a untrained pack replacing them and the fact that luggage compartment now was mine, mine and only mine sort of balanced each other out. The fact that the mother beat all previous chinese in the art of glaring made me think that it was a good thing in the end.

I finished reading No Logo (good book, although I get the feeling it might be a bit outdated, or ?). Walking to the restaurant and back for the umpteenth time I felt that perhaps I knew that part now. The power outlets were occupied and after playing old school RPG until my battery died I started reading “48 Laws of Power” by Robert Greene instead. It sounds worse than it is, it is a compilation of Sun-Tzu’s “Art of War”, Machiavelli’s “The Prince” and similar works. Nice anecdotes describing historical persons that either transgressed or observed these “Laws” while detailing them. So far fun reading, I doubt that I will have much practical use of how to raise in a renaissance court though.

A group of four twenty-five-ish chinese broke my solitude by invading the sleeper. It didn’t take long until the now all too familiar “Helloooo?” was heard. Being a nice guy I returned it and instead of a giggle/smile this time I got some stuttered response. After some oiling of their pronunciation we started conversations about anything ranging foreign policies to student loans. I was given a lovely strawberry bread and instructed in how to eat the seeds chinese seem to eat to pass time.

With some training I think I actually managed quite well eating the things now, although I still spend more energy breaking the shell and getting out the edible part than I think I actually gain from eating it. The chinese proved to be students in different fields and had different ideas of thing although when the historian gladly explained how chinese hated japan(ese) no-one to my surprise countered this statement.

They also brought up the cultural revolution without and when paging through my lonely planet the historian happily bursted out that Chairman Mao was a great leader after spotting the portrait above Heavenly Gate of Peace on a picture. I decided not to confront these statements but added that in Sweden we didn’t have such a recent history, which perhaps explained that most swedes didn’t hold a grudge against, say russians, despite wars back in the days.

These things didn’t overshadow the fact that it was fun and interesting conversations and the chinese were very friendly and helpful, we kept talking until it was time for dinner-noodles. I for example learned that the information boards (this direction only in chinese) wished me a pleasant journey before the text was eaten up by pac-man.

After dinner I read some more and then fell asleep rather early again. Waking up around midnight though, I seized the moment to do some blogging and charging my camera while my fellow train travelers were asleep. Tomorrow it’s back in Beijing and I might try to catch some Kung-Fu show if available there, some pedicure and pay Dragonfly massages another visit. Apart from that I have no real plans except to gather my luggage and gauge how much I have to throw or give away to satisfy the tight limitations on weight and volume for my flight back home to Sweden. I can almost feel the salt breeze of Gothenburg January weather thinking about it. After my perhaps last visit to a squat toilet in a while It’s time to catch my beauty sleep.

On the train again

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IMG_7807Waking to the sounds of “Safety Dance” I jumped out of bed ready as ever. Quickly packing I realized that perhaps I was even up a little too early, by a coincidence I knew that Apple just had released a sweet ultra-portable called Macbook Air, so I took the extra minutes to surf some geek porn.

After checking out I walked to the bus station and realized I still was a good 20 minutes early. After about 18 minutes the first living soul not sitting in a cab honking at me showed up and bravely tried to start a conversation. I showed my ticket, he said something and I smiled. He said something again, I said english, he said something, I smiled and then he pointed at the bus-stop and nodded.

When bus 89 arrived I realized that this was a top of the line bus with air condition (as in open windows) and those 3.4 € seemed not completely worth the fresh morning breeze of Lhasa. The conversation guy was very friendly and made sure I got to the right coach, filled in my health declaration and so on. The conversation was however still limited to me smiling but we both seemed happy with this arrangement. I thought that being extremely early would increase my odds of placing luggage before other people. Little did I know that this was exactly the thought of the rest of the passengers as well. So no luck in using the shared compartment there.

It eased my mind to see that the guy opposite me (and arriving after me) had some sort of construction in the ceiling reducing his already rather slim occupy-able space with approximately 25%. Throw in an obese chinese mother with a glaring disorder and two screaming kids and you have a lovely 48 hours ahead. I praised my preparation skills for downloading a snes-emulator and Secret of Mana to pass time with when not reading. There is also the little things as realizing that drinking with a straw is far easier than lowering your head between your knees and tilting the bottle the maximum 10-15° upwards before it hits the ceiling in order to be able to drink.

As the regular mantras are called out from the train personnel a guy now also hands out plastic oxygen tubes to put into your nostrils. I gladly accepted these, would make a good addition to my bathroom accessories. I decided to watch the documentary about this railway that I got from Kong at Spinn Cafe. I knew this railway was teh shit but It raised my impressions even further watching and now and then lifting my eyes to confirm the narrated story with what I could see outside the windows.

The challenges and how they were overcome when building this railway are simply astonishing. The main concept is that due to the permafrost the ground is rock-hard in winter and when summer comes the up till 50% ice that ground consists melts. This causes the surface to become soft, and certainly deformed under pressure such as railway tracks. The solution? Cool the earth so it never thaws. Where not possible, build bridges over land having concrete pythons deeply inserted in the ground and having the ground raise and fall like ebb and flow during the seasons. The labor was some 200 000 workers for a planned six years, but beat the plan by one year and with zero deaths due to altitude sickness, SARS or the plague (these three were the main concerns regarding the workers health).

At dinner I tried the restaurant on the train and ordered some rice and chicken plus vegetables. I got the food but it was not as warm as one could except. Now the usual swede (including me) would mutter about this but inform the waiter that everything was fine. Just fine, thank you! In the light of discussing this with Yang I instead decided that when in China, do as the chinese. So I called upon the waiters attention and explained that my food was cold. After a brief misunderstanding she excused herself and came back with a warm dish and sincerely apologized for the mistake. I didn’t feel as awkward as I thought I would and perhaps will I take with me this strange custom back to Sweden.

I decided to play some Secret of Mana after dinner which proved to be the perfect way to domesticate the previously mentioned noisy children. They simply stood behind me and looked over my shoulder in silent awe. I think this proves how good I am handling children. After some time the power outlet died though (same thing happened before so this time I didn’t suspect my charger of being assassinated by the evil chinese outlets with their unfriendly sparks) and I figured I’d go to sleep early.