Across Continents

Ken's Blog

End of the road

November 14th, 2010

Camel - web

The exact start and finish of the Silk Roads is a subject of scholarly debate. And a very academic one at that. For one thing, they were trading routes. The flow of goods rather than people, different merchants for different stages. At best you might identify hubs, marketplaces. Perhaps Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar. Staging posts rather than repositories, many wares continuing on their journey much further west.

And route is probably a more apt descriptor than road, not just because they were trading routes. For I suspect that, even at their busiest, huge swathes had little by way of discernable track. Instead reliant on local merchants to ensure the smooth flow of goods. Local knowledge.

So, not an exact science. I’d settled on the eastern Turkish city of Trabzon as my starting point. And the finish? Xi’an. Whatever its intellectual rigour, its historical merits, my route had at least felt right. The path through the mountains of central Georgia, the crossing from Kazakhstan into China, through desert and into Xi’an. Intuitively at least, it seemed plausible.

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Catching up with the Community Show

November 14th, 2010

R10bannerCS

Courtesy of friends at my local radio station in Somerset, England – www.10radio.org– a chance to listen to a great piece from their Community Show. Features extracts from a few blog posts and earlier broadcasts. As well as a trade secret or two behind the regular monthly on air chats with the Saturday Morning WakeUp team. Just click on the link below to tune in.

Download.

[If you enjoyed listening to this broadcast, or any of their other programmes – you can listen online – please do consider making a donation]

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Cycling into Xi’an

November 13th, 2010

I’d been doing what I thought was a pretty credible impression of a lost Englishman. I, at least, was convinced. Her name was Duan. On her way to collect her young daughter from the creche. A smattering of English, but still much more extensive than my Mandarin.

It’d reached Xi’an’s city walls with an hour or so of daylight left. Entering via the north west gate, I reckoned that still left me twenty five square kilometres in which to hunt for my hotel. A long night loomed, not least because I’d the usual mediocre map, its legibility even in daylight questionable.

Xian map - web

Difficult to pin down the size of Xi’an. Estimates vary from between three to over eight million. Either way, it’s pretty big. My efforts at entry comparable to riding into London armed only with postcard of Big Ben. At night. Sometimes wonder how I ever got out of Europe.

Soon dusk. Then dark. And still no sign of my hotel. By now I’d dismounted, deciding it much safer to walk than to ride amongst the chaotic evening traffic. If there was a consolation, aside from what I hoped would be a hot shower at some point before dawn, it was that I thought the place quite beautiful at night. The Bell Tower in the centre at least. Tastefully illuminated.

And I’d probably have seen much more of the city if it hadn’t been for Duan coming to my aid. She knew the road I sought. There were lefts and right. Distances. Distinct junctions. Landmarks. Rare precision. And she was right.

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Dear John…

November 13th, 2010

Ibis - night - web

“You must be John” I said. With a confidence that surprised me as much as him. “Yes” he replied, looking slightly puzzled. “How did I know?” he enquired. I explained I’d made my reservation through the hotel website, seen the manager’s name and guessed that was him.

Ibis team - web

I’d finally found the Hotel Ibis inside the walled city of Xi’an. Gone eight in the evening. Not their fault. Mine. Terrible map. In the dark difficult to discern even which road I was on. A palpable sense of relief when I finally spotted their familiar red and green logo.

In my three hours of wandering hopelessly around the city I’d passed quite a few hotels. A few modest ones. Others decadent splendor. Ordinarily I’d have picked a decent looking budget option, maybe even splash out for the night on a reasonably priced mid-range. But I’d a reservation at the Ibis.

I’d been a deliberate choice. Part of the French Accor group, same as the Novotel back in Trabzon, Turkey. You knew what you’d get. Not so much their adherence to ISO 9000 and something. That’s about consistency not quality, process rather than performance. No, it’s how they treat their people. Rather well. Bit of a pet subject of mine. Everyone an individual. To be treated with respect.

Fair to say that looking after their people is not something the hospitality industry is ordinarily all that good at. True, attention to detail, standards, matter. Of course they do. But I’d rather stop in a more colourful establishment, staffed by people who take pride in what they do. Much better that than in some sterile, airless monolith, operated by automatons.

And I wasn’t to be disappointed. Friendly welcome. The best yet in China. Non-smoking room close to the lift. Plentiful hot water in the sink and the shower. And I mean hot. Not lukewarm, which is more the norm. Spotless, well proportioned room. The next morning, a decent breakfast buffet. Lots of coffee and toast. Perfect start to the day. All for less than twenty pounds a day. Unquestionably superb value for money. Even had a lift that could take a full laden touring bike.

[Author’s note: No preferential treatment or rates have been offered, or sought, other than the online discount available to all. It’s just that I’ve been very impressed. For which the threshold is quite high. So forgive me if I wish to share the experience when it does occur. You can find the Hotel Ibis, Xi’an, at www.ibishotels.com.cn]

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Mud and mascara

November 13th, 2010

Smutty face - web

I’d given the usual assurances that I’d grab a shower. Change into clean clothes. Just as soon as I’d got to the room where I was staying. But hadn’t quite appreciated how filthy I was. A consequence of sixty miles into the centre of the city of Xi’an. A less than subtle blend of suntan lotion and diesel fumes. And a bit of mud. Admittedly I’ve not checked, but I’d be quite surprised if the Chinese MoT includes an emission test. At least one that any lorry’s ever passed.

Only later, catching a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror, had I realised how dirty I was. Deeply ingrained. Mortified. Black smudges around the eyes, difficult to remove. As if poorly applied mascara. Or so I’d imagine. Never tried it. And even if I had, don’t think I’d be admitting to it anytime soon. Better to own up to returning to primary school with blackened palms. Spot of murder. Butler did it apparently.

[Author’s note: Curious about the butler? Then visit www.bookscumbria.com and search for a book titled “Murder in Cumbria”. By a chap called Ian Ashbridge. Chapter about a small village called Newton Arlosh. Family holidays haven’t been the same since….]

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One in a billion

November 12th, 2010

Foreigner“. The tone disconcerting rather than threatening. Bravado of the sorts I thought he’d be far too cowardly to show when sober. As is usually the case. If I was torn over what to do, it was whether to pity him or despise him. I eventually chose the latter. Excessive drinking an aggravating factor, not a mitigation or a defence.

But, distain aside, I’d found myself feeling quite disappointed. Not simply the only instance of aggression I’d encountered in China. No, it was more than that. The only less than hospitable encounter. True, I’d been ignored by a few strangers I’d sought to engage with, but that was something I’d always thought understandable. Imagining how I’d react if someone like me pitched up on a bicycle, usually asking for directions with only the most rudimentary grasp of my own language.

The present situation was one easily dealt with. I left. Already quite late. And the next day? By the following evening I’d a bag of apples, a box of moon cakes and a couple of litres of water. All gifts thrust upon me at various stops I’d made. Not that my faith in the kindness of strangers really needed any restoration.

[Author’s note: Wrestled for a while as whether or not to recount this encounter, not wishing to give, however inadvertently, a distorted picture of China. In the end, decided to publish details because it happened, a factual account rather than just opinion. Besides, it’s not really a story about aggression towards foreigners, rather one of their (almost) unequivocal welcoming by ordinary Chinese people. A case of an exception proving the rule. So far, one in roughly a billion]

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Play misty for me

November 12th, 2010

“On my own, would I wander through this wonderland alone,
Never knowing my right foot from my left, my hat from my glove”

With thanks to Johnny Mathis, American songwriter and performer

Ancient cliff dwellings. The odd pagoda I thought. Difficult to make out in the cold, heavy mist. Frequent stops to wipe the condensation off my glasses lest I come to a more abrupt halt. Emerging, eventually, into sunlight, only to encounter an abundance of coal depots. Black dust strewn across the road.

Then the town of Binxian. Familiar layout. Wide central boulevard. But just a brief stop for lunch. Eager to press on. Conscious of at least twenty miles of climb south towards QianXian, a day short of the city of Xi’an. Civilisation. And, I hoped, Bank of China.

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Out of reach

November 11th, 2010

Perhaps the next town. The problem wasn’t the lack of funds. It was getting at them. Frustrating. I’d got used to popping into Bank of China, branches in most towns and cities. But not between Lanzhou and Xi’an it seemed. Inexplicably absent.

Bank - web

Instead rural cooperatives. ATMs yes, but no joy with my card. No Mastercard or Visa. PayUnion. Never heard of it. Sounded like the sort of obscure card that some low cost airlines accept free of bank charges so they can advertise impossibly low prices.

Fortunately I’ve enough cash left to reach Xi’an. And a secret stash of US Dollars if things get desperate. For no matter how low the relative cost of living might be in China, people still want to be paid. Might have to bolster the reserves for the run down to Wuhan. Lesson learnt.

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The Fallen

November 11th, 2010

I’d finally found a suitably quiet spot. Difficult in the bustling city of Xiangfan. A little before eleven in the morning. Eleventh day of November. A moment for contemplation. To reflect on the sacrifices made by others. In wars of national survival, regional conflicts. All individuals who’d lost their lives in the furtherance of a cause.

Last year it’d been the Commonwealth War Graves in Belgrade, Serbia. Joined the Ambassadors and their Diplomatic Staff. Bit inconspicuous in my bright yellow jacket, but I’d at least managed to acquire a poppy. The Consul had likened it to a blob of jam in a bowl of custard. Unfortunately, the nearest War Graves were still well over a thousand miles away in Hong Kong. Out of reach.

But what really mattered, I’d always thought, was the Act of Rememberance. Pausing, just for a few moments, to remember those who’d lost their lives in war or conflict. Not just members of the three Armed Services, but civilians, at home and abroad. Many of those laid to rest in Belgrade were nurses. The Fallen.

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The Big Society

November 10th, 2010

Not a recent "Book at Bedtime" I’d admit. Einstein’s "General Theory of Relativity". Something about trains and clocks. But probably easier to grasp than "The Big Society". I’ve tried. I really have. Read the PM’s speeches. Downloaded the pamphlet. It was a very wet day. But still none the wiser. I see the words but their meaning eludes.

But it got me thinking. China’s a pretty big society. Maybe there’s a thing or two we could learn from them. Like empowerment. A vital part of David Cameron’s vision. You see, there’s been bit of a scandal over here. Local militias. Think Neighbourhood Watch with armbands and attitude. One of the more outspoken regional newspapers publishing extracts from their training manual. Advising that when using violence, best not to draw blood. Pinochet would have been proud.

Relevant? Surely not. Suggest, then, you read up on the Community Safety Accreditation Scheme. Quickly. Of course, I’m not suggesting they’re an unruly bunch. Sure they’re well intentioned. But they do have powers ordinary citizens lack. All part of the Big Society?

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