Ken's Blog

Faux pas

October 1st, 2010

School boy error. Silent ’h’. Of course. First Westerner I’d seen in a while and I couldn’t even get his name right. Henri was French. My embarrassment was compounded by having already mentioned I’d studied his native tongue at school. So absolutely no excuse for my faux pas.

He was an environmental consultant, spending a few days in the city of Hami. Visiting mines in the region. A fluent Chinese speaker, having lived in the country for a decade, he was curious as to how I got by linguistically. Did I have to resort to English? I explained not, instead relying on a few simple words, and being painstakingly polite.

Inexplicably, especially given my earlier blunder, I mentioned that it was something of a rarity to encounter the French. I’d stopped short of actually saying "..other than in France", but the implication was probably there. Henri suggested it was because they weren’t an adventurous people. Assured him that wasn’t case. Mentioned the two French cyclists I’d met back in Kazakhstan.

He’d had to head off to meet up with colleagues, leaving me to ponder a stronger cup of coffee. Not a great start to the day. Suppose I could put it down to the remnants of the cold I’d been battling with. In the desert. Mental note. If we met again, remember to remind him of those great swathes of French colonies in South East Asia, West Africa and South America. Adventurous stuff. But probably best not to mention Algeria…

Tags: blunders, French, Hami, Silk Roads
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Day dreaming…

September 30th, 2010

"Nostalgia is like a grammar lesson: you find the present tense, but the past perfect!" – Owens Lee Pomeroy

Amazin-Raisin-1972

Vindicated. For many years my assertion that there really was a 70s "Amazin’ Raisin" confectionary bar always met with flat denials amongst friends. Mention its colourful wrapper and suggestions of psychedelia. Well, they would politely suggest, it was the 70s, wasn’t it? I’d counter by pointing out I was barely into double figures by the end of the decade, wearing flares and cagoules my greatest misdemeanours.

Truth was it did exist. Cadbury had confirmed this. Found myself salivating in the saddle. Thoughts of delicious chocolate, nougatine, and raisins of course. Imagining the texture, biting into the bar. Felt tearful, but that was down to evoking allied memories of family holidays. The plentiful supply of dried fruits east of the city of Urumqi had sparked the day dreaming. Thought the bar more robust in the heat than my other old favourite, rum and raisin flavoured "Bournville Old Jamacian" chocolate. Rumours are it’s back…

But don’t think we’ll ever see chocolate filled cigarettes returning to the High Street. Consigned to history, a social aberation. Unless you know where to look on the web. If they fuelled addiction, it was for chocolate, not nicotine. Or that was my experience. Suppose I’ll have to settle with imagining "Space Dust" tingling on the tongue.

[With especial thanks to Cadbury Customer Relations Department for permission to use the "Amazin’ Raisin" wrapper image. The famous Cadbury script is a registered trademark and must not be reproduced in any form]

Tags: Amazin Raisin, Cadbury, chocolate, confectionary, Old Jamacia
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Silk Road reflections

September 29th, 2010

"The challenge of modernity is to live without illusions and without becoming disillusioned" – Antonio Gramsci, Italian politician (deceased)

Ordinarily I’d wait until I’d traversed an entire country before reflecting on what I’ve experienced. But China’s a bit different. It’s not just big. It’s also a very diverse nation. So, a few thoughts, observations, along the way seems reasonable.

There’s the relative modernity of the towns and cities. The consumer society. For quite a few a standard of living broadly comparable with that of Western Europe. That’s not to say there aren’t people forced to scrape by, struggling to make ends meet. But that’s often the case, in even the most developed of nations.

I was curious as to just how many people existed on, or below, the poverty line. But, subjective as this measure invariably is, comparisons are fraught with difficulty. Not least because I’m a little sceptical as to the veracity of some of the figures. Does the UK really have four times as many people living in poverty than China? I seriously doubt it.

What is irrefutable is stark contrast between the relatively sophisticated urban environment and the smaller settlements, the villages and homesteads. Abject poverty? A more simple existence, devoid of modern material possessions, need not be. Just ask the Amish. Rather, it is the economic disparity between the two, a gap I sense is widening, especially for those at either ends of the scale. But nothing unique about China in that respect.

Tags: analysis, consumerism, poverty, reflections
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Around Hami

September 28th, 2010

Hami - centre - web

Hami was much in the same mould as other large towns and cities I’d visited in western China. A prosperous oasis, wide boulevards, equally generous tree-lined pedestrian walkways running alongside. Construction much in evidence.

Shop front - Western - web

Pavements shared with mopeds and electric bicycles, weaving amongst the throngs of shoppers. Colourful shop fronts. And the Western influence. The now familiar fast food outlet. Clothes outlets with names expressed in the Roman alphabet rather than Chinese characters. Seeking to entice customers in with equally recognisable music. Some international brands. Many not.

Hami - leafy street - web

But drift down side streets, relative tranquility. More traditional shops, small cafes. Old men playing board games in the parks, enjoying the shade beneath the trees. Seemingly oblivious to China’s march into consumerism.

Tags: consumerism, Hami, shops, Silk Roads, Western
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Saddle sore

September 27th, 2010

“So how can you tell me you’re lonely,
And say for you that the sun don’t shine?
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I’ll show you something to make you change your mind”
– Ralph McTell, from “Streets of London”

It wasn’t London. It was Hami. Provincial city. On the edge of the Gobi desert. Breakfast in a small hotel, “Streets of London” for accompaniment. Friendly establishment. I’d arrived the previous evening, damp and dishevelled after the long haul through the mountains from the Turpan Basin. But, presumably, unmistakably English. Despite the grimy layer of sunblock and diesel fumes. “Huw” – his adopted name – quickly summoned to interpret. A little bartering, but, no matter what, a twin room meant two breakfasts.

Giant - main - web

Hami might be renown for its melons. But what I sought was a decent bike shop. And a new saddle. My existing one had been a dream across Europe, but since Turkey had shifted back and forth between tolerable and excruciating. Refusing to accept it wasn’t possible to return to former glories, I’d stuck with it, tried everything. And a bit more. Modicum of improvement at best. So, time for something different. A fresh saddle. Might not have the longevity of the one I had, but if it kept the energy sapping sores at bay, I didn’t care. What price comfort?

My Mandarin vocabulary still struggling to reach double figures, I’d fortunately been able to find someone who knew of a decent bike shop and could write the address down for me in Simplified Chinese. Sixty pence taxi ride. From the outside at least the store looked promising. “Mary” – a student working there over the summer – spoke good English whilst I apologised profusely for my poor grasp of anything but my mother tongue, and a smattering of Welsh and French. I would, she explained, be better going to their other shop a few hundred metres away. Better selection. And she’d take me there. By bicycle.

[If you are a cyclist passing through Hami in need of cycle spares, tools or assistance, I’d recommend the shop(s) – major on stocking Giant – no idea what the places are called as I can’t read Simplified Chinese, so probably best if you print out the image below of their business card and show it to the nearest taxi driver….]

Giant - card - web

Tags: bike shop, Gobi, Hami, saddle, Silk Roads
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Cowering in the culvert

September 26th, 2010

Two hours. In a culvert. Waiting for yet another violent electrical storm to pass. I’d managed to get Emma, my trusty steed, down the embankment, away from the lorries thundering overhead. Safe. Yes. But not somewhere ordinarily you’d want to dwell.

I’d often seen vehicles parked up on the hard shoulder, seemingly abandoned in the vast openness of the desert. Only to realise their owners were using the relative privacy of the occasional culvert as an impromptu toilet. But the alternative was altogether less appealing. To be the only feature on the landscape for miles around. In an electrical storm.

The worst of the weather having passed, back on the road towards the city of Hami. A toll booth ahead, a small shop, and a welcome coffee. Cold. In a can. But refreshing nevertheless. The shopkeeper, struggling as much with dental pain as I was with saddle sores, seemed to be indicating I stay. He’d pointed to a spare bunk at the back. Two pm. Didn’t make sense.

Mountains beyond Hami - web

I’d been gone about twenty minutes when I realised what he’d been trying to tell me. Dust storm ahead. Catching the fringes, swirling dust, irritating rather than disabling. Gritty evidence strewn across the road of the storm’s intensity. Hami was close. Very close. No stopping now. Then, abruptly, clear skies, save for the mountains in the distance.

Tags: culvert, dust, Hami, Silk Roads, storm
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Strictly business

September 25th, 2010

I’d an hour or so of daylight left. And an article to write for a Magistrates newsletter. Promised I’d put something together in Hong Kong. But first some research. By chance I’d ended up where another traveller had, quite inadvertently, spent the night in what appeared to be a house of ill-repute. Not my own truck stop lodgings, but in the same settlement. Question was, where?

I’d no idea what the Chinese characters might be for such an establishment, and in any case, I doubted it advertised. Probably didn’t need to. Word of mouth. Truth is, I’d a suspicion I’d spent one or two nights in a brothel over the last year. Quite innocently. Easily done, especially when it’s the only show in town for shelter, hidden behind the facade of a respectable, if cheap, hotel. Which I suppose it is if you’re a foreigner.

I drifted around the village for a while. A few candidates, but nothing overly convincing. Instead, I was left contemplating how Magistrates might look upon a defendant’s assertion that his presence on such premises was wholly accidental. Nothing more than a simple misunderstanding. Not favourably. I’d at least had the naivety of a substantial language barrier.

Tags: brothel, magistrates, Silk Roads
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Epic days towards Hami

September 24th, 2010

Epic days towards Hami from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.

Ken describes an epic crossing through the mountains – up to 4,500 feet – that separate the Turpan and Hami Basins. And then decides to head off for a shower and a shave…

Tags: Desert, epic, storm, wind
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Little respite…

September 23rd, 2010

Truck stop - external - web

Fresh snow falls on distant peaks. I’d left the shelter of my room in the truck stop, pondering the plan for the day. The storm had passed, the last of the lightening shortly before sunrise. Thunder replaced by the frequent rumble of lorries on the highway. The wind had subsided a little, no longer gale force, but still strong, gusting. Marginal for riding. I’d still quite a bit of climb yet to come, but there was a chance they’d be more shelter higher up. Decided it’d be worth a shot.

Progress was derisory at first. Battered by the wind, unpredictable in both strength and direction. Constantly changing. A landscape devoid of clues, not even a single tree. I’d at least been able to find a stretch of old road, parallel with the highway, allowing me to stay well clear of the many unfenced culverts or steep drops. A single truck stop late morning.

Map - extra annotations - web

By five civilisation. Toll station, beyond it a few buildings, a small shop. Respite. And a chance to glean something of the road ahead, my map already heavily annotated. Drawing a small crowd, albeit well-intentioned, it was soon time to move on. Downhill at last. A small village. Another truck stop and a bed for the night.

Truck stop - pan - web

[For those curious about my map annotations, TS = Truck stop – basic but usually have simple, cheap accommodation. PS = Petrol station – modern, more expensive version of a truck stop, normally stocks tinned coffee drinks but nowhere to stay. TB = Toll booth – TS or PS close by. Located using Google Earth. And the spot heights are metres, not feet!]

Tags: Desert, mountains, Silk Roads, wind
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Friend and foe

September 22nd, 2010

"A strong foe is better than a weak friend" – Edward Dahlberg, American novelist

I thought the usual quotation – "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer" – hackneyed, even if it’s attributed to a Chinese military strategist. But, two and a half thousand years later, it does have an irritating aptness. Lorry drivers. The worst come perilously close, sucking you in towards their trailers, then spitting you out as they rumble past. Riding slowly uphill into a headwind, the wall of air those plunging downhill create can be sufficient to bring you to an abrupt halt.

But, for all that, faced with genuine difficulty on remote stretches of road, it’d be lorry drivers I’d seek help from. No hesitation. Not all would oblige, but when assistance came, you just knew it’d be from a trucker. They’re the ones that often wave as they pass, give the thumbs up, offer water, keep an eye on you. Dare say there are car drivers who’d step in. Of course there are, but more likely they’d stop to take a photo and then head off. Busy people.

Tags: Desert, foe, friend, help, lorries, Silk Roads, trucks
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