I have a somewhat fitful night which is a shame as the room is so
comfortable. My alarm goes off at 6am, and as I have made sure
everything is packed apart from my PC, I hurriedly pack this and have
a quick shower and shave before making my way to the hotel reception
to check out. I'm toying with the idea of changing my booking to stay
here again on my return from Beijing as it is a very late stop. I
need to think about it.
It's still dark as I make my way to the station, arriving just before
6.20. I have an hour to wait but a large queue is already forming at
the gate, so I join the queue but tend to move forward if I can: many
Chinese do this, it's an established protocol. They tend not to
bother too much with queuing, this being largely a British
phenomenon. Chinese women in particular will simply disregard the
line and nonchalantly walk to the front of it as I observe one lady
in late middle-age do. The wait for the gate to open drags on
interminably and becomes torture as the departure time, 7.26 am,
draws closer and closer, and at 7.10 am the gate has still not
opened. I've known gates stay closed until five minutes before the
train leaves on previous occasions, which is frustrating and worrying
as I'm sure the trains won't wait! In my head I try to imagine all
the safety checks that may be taking place, as the crowd begins to
appear restless and shuffles toward the still-closed gate. A feeling
of mutiny hangs in the air.
Finally it opens and a slow crush begins as travellers swarm through,
and I feel concerned for my safety. I'm quite near the front by now
so it doesn't take long to get through. The Chinese lady who marched
to the front of the queue gets stuck in the gate with her bag so
hasn't made any more progress than I have: I can't help feeling some
humour in the situation. Aboard the train I sit in my allotted seat
next to a Chinese gentleman who is chatting animatedly on his phone,
which does not bode well for the journey at this stage. The train
staff are still loading trolleys of food on to the bar carriage.
The journey to Guilin is immensely long at 10 hours, tedious and
gloomy. Outside the city and the landscape are shrouded in fog, and
optimistically I imagine that we will move out of it as we travel
further south and the day wears on. The sunlight is filtered through
endless vistas of gunmetal grey, and the world outside the train
appears as a nondescript expanse of green baize.
The Chinese
gentleman produces a laptop PC and is evidently working on the train:
he chatters on his phone every ten minutes or so, so I place earplugs
into my ears for the present and try in vain to doze off. The train
stops at innumerable stations. Most of them having names ending in
“dong” (east) so even if I can manage to doze it is never long
till the next “dong”, when I will be woken by the onboard
announcement. To my surprise we actually pass through Baoding, which
I hadn't known about: I wonder if this would have made me plan
differently?
Astonishingly the fog and the cloud never clear throughout the entire
journey. To escape my Chinese companion's chatter I make my way to
the bar carriage at 9.30 and remain there for three hours or so,
having an early lunch and a beer.
This provides a welcome relief from the travel compartment and I
shudder inwardly as I pass through the other carriages; the only
first-class one is the one I am in, and for the return journey I have
only been able to get a second-class ticket. In the economy carriages
the passengers seem squeezed in like sardines, with wailing children
everywhere, the tinny sound of games and videos being played on
phones, animated phone chatter, and the pervasive smell of soup
noodles, which the Chinese bring on board to eat.(I've actually done
this myself but so far have eaten the overpriced train food in order
to find an oasis of peace!) Many of them are trying, probably
unsuccessfully, to sleep, I go back to the compartment at about 12.30
pm to find the Chinese gentleman has gone and both seats are empty so
I steal the window seat for a while and try again to sleep. I must
have managed some bursts of actual sleep as the on-board announcement
for the next station jolts me awake. The train stops at a place
called something like Chang'an Nan, and hundreds of passengers get on
board, the most I've seen on the journey so far, so the carriage
fills up and I move back to my original seat. By now however it's
about 3pm so I've had a good 6 and a half hours of glorious
solitude.
At 4pm I make up some soup noodles as I've brought some with me and
there are hot water dispensers on board the train, and after I've
eaten I go back to the bar carriage where I have another beer. It's
beginning to become dark by now and I'm starting to become anxious to
arrive in Guilin, which I know will not be until 6.30 pm. The
attendant there speaks a little English, so strikes up a
conversation with me, which is limited as his English is not much
better than my Chinese. He speaks slowly in a somewhat sepulchral
voice that is rather unnerving. At around 5.45 I go back to the
compartment to find the adjacent seat is empty again so I have a
final period of time by myself.
My first view of the Guangxi landscape is disappointingly vague as it
is shrouded in fog, however it reminds me of the Derbyshire hills.
The long-awaited announcement of approaching Guilin finally arrives
and I'm immensely relieved to disembark from the train at last. Once
out of the railway station taxi touts pounce on me: I wave them away
and head to the official taxi rank with a marshal and have in my hand
the address of my hotel in Guilin printed in Chinese, so it only
takes a few minutes to arrive. I check in without any difficulty as
the manager speaks English quite well although he tries to persuade
me to have a single room and I firmly resist. The room is charming
and spotlessly clean, however there is a strong smell of tobacco
smoke which, try as I might, I'm unable to dispel.
I decide to go out and try the bar street in Guilin for food and
drinks, so I refresh myself with a hot shower and change. Just after
I arrive I receive a text message from Simon, who hosted Christmas
dinner in Baoding and who I know is visiting Guilin himself: we
arrange to meet in a bar known as the Irish pub, although as yet I
don't know where this is.
When I go down to reception the manager has gone and there are some
Chinese ladies there: I'm unsure whether to ask them for direction so
stand around looking confused until one of them asks me in English if
I need help. Slightly sheepish but relieved I ask for a map of the
area and directions to the bar street, which this lady is happy to
provide. She also notices a button is coming loose on my jacket and
to my surprise produces a sewing kit and sews it back on for me!
I walk out and using the map, find the Irish bar fairly easily, and
just around the corner from this I spot Simon in a little Indian
restaurant, so I say hello then walk back out to find some barbecue
food as I don't really wish to eat curry three nights in a row. There
is an indoor food market here with a variety of dishes and I have a
couple of skewers before meeting Simon in the Irish pub where we sit
and talk over a few beers, exchanging travel stories. The bar has the
décor of an Irish-style pub and serves Guinness on draught, but
needless to say doesn't play Irish music or have an Irish band!
It's raining when I come out and the pall of gloom has persisted so I
hope for better weather tomorrow. I haven't got an umbrella so I
curse my own thoughtlessness in not packing one. This has been a long
day and I'm not looking forward to the return trip to Beijing in
about 3 weeks' time.
No comments:
Post a Comment