Boarding the battered old ferry at Beihai we were torn between relief and trepidation: happy to be leaving that frozen, barren town but distinctly hesitant about the impending 12-hour sea-bucket journey. We had managed at the last minute to upgrade ourselves from the 30-to-a-room cattle-class about which we had heard so many colourful, zoological analogies and which, we now saw, offered little more than a bamboo mat and a selection of shrieking, smoking roommates. Putting Steerage a good deck below us, we settled into our cosier 2-bunk cabin to contemplate our trip. Behind us: Beihai, chilly wasteland with a very Chinese approach to ferry ticket sales. Ahead: the tropical island of Hainan and almost two weeks of warmed-up relaxation. Outside: a rusty corridor reminiscent of the 'follow the rats' scene from Titanic. So doing nothing was
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