Hong Kong To Nanjing

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It was never part of my master plan to return to Chungking Mansions. Last time I stayed there I was caught in a tower block fire.

A Chinese fireman, clad in full breathing apparatus, grabbed my arm and pulled me through a thick cloud of acrid black smoke. Unfortunately the surprise of this move caused me to take an involuntary lungful of the stuff which stripped most of the functional cells from my larynx, pharynx and bronchioles. It took six months for my normal voice to return, but my singing range was curtailed for ever.

However, time dulls the senses. I was arriving in Hong Kong in the early evening and I knew the 'Mansion' was conveniently situated in Kowloon.
Chungking Mansions is an enormous office block which has been continuously remodelled over the years but its essence is numerous guest houses, Indian restaurants and various small businesses tucked away on the grim looking floors. These days there are internet web sites which combine hostel user reviews with a booking service so I chose a highly rated guest house and made a reservation. It turned out to be OK. For my 12 quid I got a top bunk in a cramped (but clean) 4 bed dorm with lockers and a tiny shower-cum-toilet (that doesn't look right written down) on the 14th floor.


The main purpose for my visit to Hong Kong was to get a Chinese visa so, at the first opportunity, I took the ferry from Kowloon over to Hong Kong Island. I didn't realise that there are two ferries and I, of course, took the wrong one to the more distant area and ended up walking an hour through the pouring rain to find the China Resources Building.

There is a 4 page visa application form. The system is that you fill it in to the best of your ability and then take it to show the man who controls the queue number machine. He then points to the boxes you haven't filled in until you realise that it is more important to have something written in every box, irrespective of how meaningful or truthful it may be.

At that point the queue man gives you the supplementary questionnaire to which the same applies. Eventually he is satisfied and gives you a number to enable you to wait to see an actual visa processor. She barely looks at the forms, but gives you the bill you must pay when you return to collect your passport.



So I had a couple of days to kill in HK. It was raining heavily most of the time so it wasn't worth going up to the Victoria Peak viewpoint.

I had a nice lunch in the Museum of History and mainly mooched around the backstreets on the island. There is a nice promenade along the Kowloon seafront, looking across at the skyscrapers of the HK business district.

Last time I was here the HSBC building was the dominant building. Today it is outgunned by a clutch of newer, taller, sleeker architectural visions. Each evening there is a show in which the lights on the buildings opposite gyrate in time to a soundtrack played along the promenade.
It's a bit kitsch, but it gets the crowds.

After a couple of days I handed over the extortionate fee and was all set to enter China proper.



It's a couple of hours on the train from Kowloon to Guangzhou. The journey was uneventful until the lady sitting next to me decided to start a conversation during the last part of the trip. This made me forget to eat my orange, which was confiscated by Chinese customs on the way in.

I felt a little self conscious on the metro full of Chinese people between the train station and Fangcun, near the Youth Hostel. Last time I was in China I had a small backpack and a carefree attitude. This time I have a 15kg wheelie bag, including a kettle and a tube of Anusol. How times change.

I am staying in Youth Hostels around China because they are both cheap and English speaking. The Riverside YH is in a leafy suburb of Guangzhou alongside the Pearl River, not at all the thronging metropolis I was expecting.
I was invited to join the Chinese YHA (are the Chinese allowed to join ours?) and found my way to the spacious wood paneled dorm (in hindsight, the best of the trip).

I looked at the gunmetal sky over the city.
'That must be the pollution I keep hearing about' I thought, but no, it was another thunderstorm rolling in.

I did a few touristy things around town, aided by the fantastic metro system which was not here the last time I was.

In particular, the Mausoleum of the Nanyue King had been discovered under a building project in the meantime and is now fully dug up and displayed in a purpose built mausoleum-cum-museum. (That seems to work better).

I also trudged around Yuexiu Park in yet more teeming rain. By now my African trainers had given up any attempt of waterproofness and I was resigned to squelching my way around China.

Then I looked around Fangcun in quite some depth. Being a suburb of a huge city I thought I might learn something about how ordinary people live. Many of them live in apartment tower blocks. It's the only way to fit so many people into a city. With high rise living comes high rise laundry and you can see the clothes drying on the balconies far above. If I converted the prices in the estate agents window correctly, you can buy a couple of nice houses in the South East of England for the cost of an apartment in Guangzhou.

The metro station opened onto an underground shopping street which stretched about a kilometre and opened onto a spanking new shopping mall and department store. It seems that newness is par for the course in this part of the world. Prices were similar to the UK and there was no cheap tat to be found, so my wallet stayed in my pocket.

Back in the dorm there was a young Korean guy with tears in his eyes.
'What's the matter?' I asked.
'I am so roanry' he replied.
'How long is your trip?'
'One month'
'And how long have you been travelling'
'Two days'
'It's a bit soon to be getting homesick ' I said, 'You better get over it. Where are you headed?'
'Pye' he replied.
'Why Pye?' I asked
'Last year I had a motorcycle accident in Pye and had to go home'
'Ah. So you think you will find some sort of psychological resolution if you return to Pye and complete the original plan'
'Yes'
Perhaps we had something in common after all.
It turned out that he was only 17 and already on his second big solo trip. This is rare for anybody, but especially for a Korean. I did not want to see him losing heart at this early stage so I took him out for a companiable walk. A couple of days later we both had a McDonalds breakfast prior to his departure.
'You are a great friend', he said, 'I will never forget you'



I wanted to take the night train to Xiamen.
'Standing tickets only available for Monday. You can get a hard seat for Tuesday but there are no sleepers available until next week'
I took the hard seat.

I got talking to a Chinese businessman in the station waiting room.
'I'm going to ask for an upgrade to a sleeper'
He threw his head back with laughter. 'No chance. These trains are booked out weeks in advance'.
I asked the conductor anyway, but his blank look told me all I needed to know.

Hard seat was not too bad as it was not particularly hard. I was fearing a wooden bench or something, but it turned out to be an ordinary seat you would find on any train.

The idea of a standing ticket is that you don't pay much but only get any seats that are not in use by seat ticket holders. When the train is as packed as this one was you can end up standing for a 14 hour overnight journey. Not fun. Some bring little stools to sit in the aisles but with the constant movement of sellers etc there is no chance of a rest. The other passengers in my section shared their food parcels with me. As usual I had nothing to share, having had a big meal before setting off.



Xiamen has an elevated busway that seems a bit strange at first, but is probably more cost effective than building a metro. Fortunately I had written directions from the hostel owner of how to get to his hostel. Unfortunately he didn't know his left from his right so I ended up going in the wrong direction. I had a feeling about this so I went back to the start point and reinterpreted the directions to get to the right place. He wasn't very apologetic when I pointed out his mistake, saying I was probably tired from the trip.

This hostel was strategically placed amongst a maze of narrow lanes in what remains of old Xiamen.
'These people don't appreciate their own cultural heritage' said the hostel owner, referring to the locals, 'They cant wait to get their homes knocked down so that they get relocated to a new apartment block.'
Having seen their cramped quarters I was on the side of the locals. Cultural heritage is a tourist destination, not a way of life, in modern China.


Xiamen is an island 5km from mainland China, although you wouldn't know it as it is so well connected. It has a few beaches, so is a major destination for Chinese holidaymakers as beaches in China are few and far between.

The number of people around was truly awesome. Walking down the main street in the evenings was like joining the crowds leaving Wembley stadium after a major final, only without the thinning out.

All the major Western brands are trying to build a presence in China, and these people were definitely spending. Of course, the people that can afford a holiday are the same ones who might have some cash to splurge on branded goods. Even amongst the Chinese backpackers I don't think I saw anybody use a phone that was not of the smart variety (usually an Apple).

The Chinese lad in the bunk above me was friendly and we took the ferry over to Gulung Yu, a small island devoted to the tourist industry a couple of hundred metres away. He introduced me to Chinese beer, which must be the worlds weakest. During a wide ranging conversation I mentioned the demonstrations and crackdown at Tiananmen Square. Suddenly he became quite animated, his eyes shining.
'Yes, I have heard of this' he said conspiratorially, 'tell me more.'
Oops. I didn't want to get kicked out for sedition just yet.


The next morning I joined him for breakfast.
'What do you want?' he asked.
'Just order the things you like and I'll have the same.' I said. It's the best way to try new things.

That morning we had steamed wantons and noodle soup. Next day we had a thing where a lady uses scissors to cut pieces of various unidentified stuff into a bowl and covers it with a thin rice gruel. (I had to get used to eating unidentified stuff in China. Often I would walk into a restaurant, look at what the diners were eating and point at the one which looked the most appetising. Usually I quite enjoyed it).


In the market I noticed how to prepare a frog for the pot. First you cut off its feet with scissors. Then you create a slit along the length of it belly. With a deft movement you can turn it inside out and separate the body from the skin. By this time it is nearly dead and doesn't wriggle too much in your shopping bag.


After breakfast we took a bus into town to the Nanputo Temple. This is a large Buddhist temple (with monks) set at the base of a steep hill into which steps have been carved. Of course we had to walk to the top at which point my knees and feet started to rebel. Then we walked around the university campus, which was mildly interesting, especially as a number of young ladies wanted to have their photo taken with me.

Another lengthy bus journey took us to supposedly the best beach in the area.
'Maybe we will see a girl in a bikini' said my young friend.
But no, there were hundreds of young people paddling with rolled up trouser legs and a couple of old blokes having a swim.


But anyway, I had discovered the secret to having a good time in China: make friends with a Chinese person and get them to do the legwork.


I passed the next couple of days wandering around Gulung Yu.It was once the place where the foreigners lived and so has some pleasantly decaying buildings, but it is really given over to the tourist boom and is full of shops and cafes catering to the thronging masses.

I ignored my complaining feet and circumnavigated the island and climbed to the high point with the crowds. This was a mistake as my feet wreaked vengence by developing extra large blisters on the soles which then burst and continuously oozed sticky plasma over my sandals which then kept pulling on the burst loose blistered skin with each step.


I had a train ticket on the Sunday so I hobbled up the elevated busway with my 15kg and returned to the train station, only to find my train had been cancelled.
'Join this queue' I was told. So I queued for 2 hours and eventually reached the service window.
'I want the next available train to Hangzhou, please'
The lady looked at me coldly for a moment, then went into a fit. She screamed into her microphone at the top of her voice and then marched out of her cubicle in a huff.
I got the sense that I was missing something. Evidently she was shouting something along the lines of 'Someone come and tell this idiot.......'.
Indeed, someone did come and tell the idiot 'No trains, only plane or bus'.
I opted for a refund.


I telephoned the hostel owner to inform him that I was returning to his establishment.
'Oh. That'll be because of the big train crash last night'

It was world news that a bullet train had been struck by lightening and was then struck from behind by the next train which shot off the viaduct in a multi-fatality accident.
My chagrin was quickly dissipated as I learnt the seriousness of this event.

To be fair the hostel owner and his wife then went above and beyond the call of duty trying to help me with my travel arrangements. We watched the prices of flights go up in real time as the seats were booked out on the internet. We found the office for the overnight bus, but that was fully booked.
'You're probably best waiting for the trains to start again' they said, and so it proved.



From Xiamen to Hangzhou is 7 hours, even on a bullet train. The velocity is displayed in each carriage. I think the fastest I saw it get up to was 297 Kmh.

The main thing I noticed through the window was that hundreds of new factories and apartment blocks have been built but are standing unoccupied all the way along the route. Supply is obviously far ahead of demand yet house prices are said to be at record highs. No doubt it's all to do with location.

I arrived at Hangzhou South station and my instructions said to take bus K301 to Wu Lin Square. I found the bus stop and the bus came fairly soon.

I took a window seat with the intention of reading the bus stop location names as we reached each one. There is an English name written at each bus stop, although the longer the name the smaller the print. However the bus went on and on and no Wu Lin Square appeared.

My communications with other passengers seemed to confirm that we were heading towards Wu Lin Square but I was starting to get edgy, particularly as the light was fading and I could no longer see the English names. After an hour and a half I began to worry that I had missed my stop.
I phoned up the hostel for advice.
'You probably have another half hour to go. It is the last stop.'
If only they had mentioned that in their instructions it would have saved me a lot of stress and eye strain.
Anyway, this starts to give you an idea of the vast size of Chinese cities.


In the hostel wifi room there was a beautiful Chinese girl being chatted up by an Iranian guy, about my age. He wanted her to help him find a location somewhere in Hangzhou. I was not surprised when she declined and he set off alone.

I introduced myself and asked her name.
'I am Arris' she said. (I made a mental connection with Rolf Harris to help me remember).
'I am going out for something to eat soon. Do you want to come?'
'OK' she said, so we set off for town.

Luckily she was a slow walker as I was still hobbling along at that time.
She knew Hangzhou a little bit and we found a local restaurant.
'Just order the things that you like but get enough for two' I said. So she did and we had a fantastic meal with beer for about 3 quid each. Afterwards she said 'It is Ladies Night at the club. I can get a free drink.' No objection from me, so I had another beer and we played some pool for a memorably pleasant evening.

The next night I went out with the Iranian guy.
'I spent the day with that Arris.' he said, ' A beautiful girl but such hard work'.


Hangzhou is famous for its beautiful lake. At one time in history it was an ordinary lagoon, but over the centuries the gentry of the region have worked a gradual process of prettification whose cumulative effect can be seen today. There is a variety of bridges, pagodas, statues and pathways and lots of willow trees for shade. It is very genteel and extremely popular with strollers at all hours.

Trying not to antagonise my feet I walked just far enough to find a shady bench and sat with my Kindle until I was back in the sun.

I also found the old area with a night market for fried noodles and a handy McDonalds with a breakfast menu. Within a stones throw of the hostel there were dealerships for Ferrari, Lamborghini, Porsche, Aston Martin and BMW. So, a great place to go if you like looking at expensive cars. On the street there were mainly Nissans and VW's.


I decided to take the bus from Hangzhou to Suzhou. I left the hostel fairly early to get a taxi to the East bus station.

After standing by the side of the road for 15 minutes without success I started walking towards a busier road. Still, nothing doing. Plenty of taxis, but all occupied.

After an hour I saw a passenger disembarking from a taxi outside a big hotel. I waved at the taxi and the driver waited for me to approach. I put my luggage in the back, sat in the passenger seat and handed over my piece of paper on which was written 'East bus station' in Chinese characters. The driver launched into some sort of tirade and was evidently not happy, but I was not going to exit my seat too easily.

'Big bus. Suzhou. Whats the problem'. I kept sitting.

After a while he drove along the pavement and stopped outside a hotel. He gestured me to follow inside where he stated a conversation with the receptionist which quickly escalated into a shouting match.

I contributed 'Big bus. Suzhou. Whats the problem' a few times and drew a picture of a bus for clarification. No-one took any notice. Finally the driver threw up his hands, led me back to the car and drove me to the bus station, which wasn't excessively far.

He was all smiles as I unloaded my bag.


The hostel in Suzhou was situated on the edge of a canal in the picturesque Old Town.

That evening I didn't want to walk very far to find food so I had to choose to go either left or right along the canal and see what turned up.
I chose left.

As I walked along he street became narrow and grimy with mainly industrial small businesses and a distinct lack of eating places. Suddenly a pub like place appeared. I walked in to the evident surprise of the hardworn locals, but they were soon smiling and raising their glasses to me. I looked at what people were eating and pointed to a fish in a brown sauce which looked interesting. Unfortunately when it was delivered it was greasy and clammy and a bit of a challenge to eat with chopsticks only. I gave it a go though, as all eyes were on me. It wasn't particularly cheap either.

I later discovered that had I chosen to turn right I would have come out near the town centre with a plethora of attractive eating options.



I was now into my third week in China, so it seemed like a good time to start thinking about extending my visa for another month. After much pouring over guide books and the internet with the (very helpful) hostel staff, we determined that I needed to go to the city administration centre. I started to walk and then decided to take a taxi. We arrived after a 20 minute journey. It is difficult to get you head around the size of these cities.


I filled in the lengthy form and got a ticket from the queue man. I was a bit concerned at first because my ticket number was 2124 and they were currently dealing with 1127, but my number appeared after 20 minutes. I handed my form over to the official, who spoke perfect English.

'Well, to start with you have used the wrong sort of pen. You have to use an ink pen.'
'Eh. That's ink isn't it?' Already I was starting to get that sinking feeling.
'No you have used a ball point pen. You must use an ink pen like this.' He gestured to an ordinary looking pen on this desk.
My face must have been blank.
'If you look at your pen you will see a little ball at the tip. That is a ball point pen.'
I looked closely at his pen. I could see a little ball at the tip. I decided not to argue.

'Next you must get one of these' He waved a form in front of me. 'This is a Temporary Residence Registration. Your hotel will communicate your presence to the local police. You will then go to the police station and and ask them to provide this form.'

'You must also provide a bank statement to prove that you have 3000 USD in your account.'

You will also supply an application letter written in Chinese explaining your personal information, what you are doing in China, where you are living in China and what type of visa you are applying for.'

'You must provide photocopies of your passport and visa pages'

'Also you should be aware that any extension will apply from the date of application, not the date date of expiry of your current visa.'

I am an adherent to the principle of Margin Of Safety and that doesn't include applying for a new visa on the last day of the old ones validity, especially when the process is as complex as this. I don't think they are very keen to have foreigners hanging around for too long.

I had the feeling that my exit from China would be earlier than anticipated (unless something unexpected turned up, of course. You never know with travel).



Back in the hostel I got talking to a Chinese girl called Chinchin.
'Tomorrow I am going to Wudu', she said, 'what are you doing?'.
'Can I come with you?' I asked.
She seemed quite pleased.

We took a one hour bus journey across Suzhou to find Wudu. I could never have found it on my own. Wudu is another canal side location. We bought the tickets to get into the sights, which all consisted of manicured gardens and ponds. Luckily my feet were much improved and I was able to tramp around unimpeeded.

Lunchtime came around and we began looking for somewhere to eat. Chinchin dismissed a couple of places as looking too dirty and settled on a place where the floor was strewn with tissue papers. This was a cafe where you pick the contents of your soup from the display and the vendor pours boiling water over it.

'I will have them same as you' I said (as usual) and left her to prepare the bowls.
After a few minutes the vendor asked her a question.
'Do you want it hot?'
'Of course' I said, then after a few seconds 'Did he mean hot temperature or hot spicy?'
'Hot spicy'.

It came both boiling hot and full of chillis. My spoon slipped out of my fingers and a drop of soup flew into my eye. Suddenly I was in agony and came to the attention of the room as I writhed a little bit and my eye streamed copious amounts of fluid as I dabbed it with tissue paper.

I could imagine the audience thinking 'that foreigner can't hold his chillis' but I had yet to have a mouthful. After about 10 minutes it began to calm down and I proceeded to eat my very spicy soup. That set my nose running and I established why the floor was covered with tissue papers. A bin would have been nice.


We proceeded on to the Suzhou Amusement Park for the evening. It is open to the public but not yet completely built. We went on a couple of rides where the queues were not excessive and an extendable arm which takes you high into the sky for extensive views across the city.

Chinchin received a phone call from a relative and gabbled excitedly into her phone.
'What did you say?' I asked.
'I told him I am at the fair with a handsome English boy' she replied.
Oh well. Two out of three ain't bad.



I proceeded on to Shanghai. For once the directions actually got me to the hostel. Another 4 metro stops and I was in the city centre. I spent a little time disoriented in Peoples Park. Eventually I found the Shanghai Museum and was able to place myself on the map. As it was raining I thought I might as well go around the museum. It was a bit mundane on the first floor - more old pots - but became a bit more interesting with each subsequent level.

I walked up to The Bund. This is the area where you can look across the Huangpu River at the skyscrapers of the business district in Pudong. An impressive sight.

On another day I went under the river via the Bund Sightseeing Tunnel (waste of money) to Pudong and went up to the sightseeing level of the World Financial Centre.

The world's highest manmade viewing platform is on the 100th floor, at 474 metres. At ground level there is a film show and scale model to get you in the mood. Then you are whisked up in an enclosed elevator with inspirational muzac. This pops you out on the 94th floor and you have to queue for an ordinary lift for the final ascent. You are ejected into a glass-walled corridor where you can wow at the views.

I must admit to being a bit disappointed view-wise. You finally see the haze over the city which prevents any view to the far distance. Looking down on the other skyscrapers is quite interesting though.


Another day I went to the Insect Market. Here lots of insects are kept in lidded pots. Enthusiasts (mostly men) gather around the tables, lift the lids and poke the insects with little sticks to see if they are lively. If they are sufficiently impressed they may make a purchase (and the insects were not particularly cheap: 20 RMB can buy a decent meal in some places). That is the 'How', I am not too sure about the 'Why'.


I rounded off my trip to Shanghai by visiting Qibao, another Old Town packed with tourists. It appears that the more China redevelops itself, the more interested they become in the bits that are left. I spoke to one 20 year old lad who said that his hometown has been knocked down and rebuilt twice since he was a kid and he doesn't recognise any of it. So much of modern China is brand new and designed to handle vast numbers of people.

I still had a few days to spare until my (hastily organised) flight.

I went to Nanjing. The hostel here was a bit crappy but I stayed there as I had paid in advance.

Nanjing is a very pleasant and historic town, marred only by the silly prices to get into the historical sights.

The Memorial Hall of the Nanjing Massacre was free, though. This museum commemorates The Rape of Nanjing which occurred during the Japanese invasion of China in 1937. First the Japanese took Shanghai, and then Nanjing after some opposition.

When Nanjing finally fell the Japanese soldiers became drunk on victory and lost their heads, committing numerous atrocities of rape and casual murder. The city was caught in this terrifying ordeal for 6 weeks and by the time order was restored about 300,000 Chinese people had been killed. It's another one of those dark episodes in Human history which seem to occurr with unnerving regularity. Eventually the Chinese rallied and kicked out the Japanese.


I had to get back to Hangzhou to catch my flight. I got somebody at the hostel to write down the train details I wanted in Chinese characters and then went to the train booking office. During the booking the lady was pointing to something on her screen and clearly saying 'Is that alright?' I had no clue what she was saying so just said OK. When I got my ticket I saw I was going to Hangzhou South station once again. Oh well, at least I knew what to expect this time.

I just needed to establish the route to the airport. From the hostel take bus number K12 to Wu Lin Square where you will find the airport bus. I had heard that one before so I thought I had better do a dry run. I got off the K12 at Wu Lin Square and commenced a methodological search of the area. About an hour later I came across the airport bus about 20 metres from where I had started, but in the opposite direction.

I then got back on the K12 where I had got off, thinking that it must do a circular route. As we headed out into the suburbs I reasoned that it probably did a figure 8 and would turn around soon. Eventually the driver kicked me off at the depot.

I never seemed to get my bearings in China.

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Photos

Shanghai
Insect Market