Across Continents

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“Bikeman”

December 3rd, 2010

Bikeman - web

“Bikeman I presume?”. We’d be in touch by e-mail. Worked at the imaginatively titled “Flying Ball Bicycle Company” in central Hong Kong. Best stocked cycle shop since Germany. But, unfortunately, geared more to the road racing market than touring. Still able to provide a few items I was after, just not as much as I’d hoped for.

He’d not the beard I’d imagined. But an intriguing individual nevertheless. Born a Brit but, by his own admission, he’d been here so long he was now thoroughly “Asianised”. Keen triathalete. Bright pink kit. But still no idea what his real name was. Didn’t really matter. “Bikeman” seemed far more apt.

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Braving the “Elements”

December 3rd, 2010

Fading fast. More coffee. Another Starbucks. But now in Hong Kong. Not sure where exactly. Somewhere in the centre. “Elements” shopping centre. Busying itself preparing for Christmas. Ending up here because it was directly above the Kowloon Bus Station where I’d been dropped off.

Noel - web

I doubt you could construct a more perfect shopping centre. Offered complimentary mints at the concierge’s desk as I sought, successfully, to acquire a map. Public toilets the best I’d seen. Full stop. Ever. Automated soap dispensers at each basin, yielding a small, neat dollop of foam. Had a few goes.

Hong Kong wasn’t China. Strictly speaking it is, but in truth it seems very different. A defacto separate nation. It’s not just that they drive on the left or use a different currency. Or there’s a much wider, albeit far from universal, use of English. Subtle things. Three pin plugs. As in the UK. Or Malta. And cash machines that insist you remove your card before they give you your money.

The choice of shops in “Elements” intriguing. Less of the international names you might find in Chinese equivalents, the sort that sell you opulence. Gaudy symbols of wealth. More the sorts of places you might actually want to pop in, picking up more everyday items. The measure of a more developed society. Albeit at a price. Hong Kong isn’t cheap.

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Flying south

December 2nd, 2010

Much better behaved than I. Compliant. Diligently completing the immigration paperwork. Putting his bags through the unmanned scanner. Obeying the sign. I’d met Anthony in the Foreigners line at passport control. He was from Sheffield. In China on business. And, like me, hoping to cross into Hong Kong. His thoroughness had taken me aback a little. Not because he was doing anything wrong. Far from it. No. He was just being the person I’d have been before I started on this venture.

I’d flown down from Wuhan earlier in the day. Left Emma, my trusty steed, in good company whilst I was gone for a few days. It had been an early start, up before five. Preferring an extra coffee in Departures than a mad panic at Check-In. The airport had surprised me. Admittedly, for a city of about nine million people, you’d hardly call it provincial. But it had a sophistication, a modernity I’d not expected.

Check in friendly. And in English. Choice of seat. Security checks thorough. Professional. Reassuring. And very efficient. But meant I was madly early. Drifted around for a while. Bemused a little by the shops and expensive boutiques. “London Fog“. “Coolava Island“. And “Generic Shop“. Always wondering what the Chinese made of these names. And then copious coffee.

The flight hadn’t disappointed. Smart Air China A320-200 airbus. As pristine as the airport. Part of the Star Alliance. And a complementary copy of the “China Daily” English language newspaper. Brought to my seat. Soon arriving in the city of Shenzhen, close to Hong Kong. Emerging into bright sunshine. Unfamiliar humidity.

A brief foray into baggage reclaim. Even a check on exit to make sure my rucksack tallied with the label on my boarding card. Not short of people to do these sort of things. The usual taxi touts in the Arrivals Hall. Ignored. Another coffee to sustain myself. Starbucks. Then off to find the bus across the border. Not sure quite what to expect. Certainly not the pink sticker we all had to wear.

[Author’s note: Hong Kong remains a defacto separate country – not sure I’d go as far as describing it as independent – to the extent you’d be hard pressed to realise it, technically, wasn’t. Practical implications? Your mainland Chinese visa gets cancelled as you cross – assuming it’s not multiple entry – and direct flights are treated as international rather than domestic. More expensive. Hence flying to Shenzhen on the border, then crossing by bus – about fifteen pounds return – and very efficient and intuitive]

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Planes, trains and automobiles

December 2nd, 2010

Shenzhen International Airport. Thought I might be able to simply stroll across the border into Hong Kong. Looked close enough on my maps. Which, admittedly, showed the whole of China on two sheets. Foolishly, I’d admitted this to my parents. They’d been quick to point out it was a good hour by bus. Teased a little that I must have opted for a budget airline, landing far from the supposed destination.

I’d fly down from Wuhan. Couple of hours in the air to the north. Popping into Hong Kong to collect a fresh visa to enable me to ride south to the former colony at a sensible pace. Arriving in time for Christmas. A flying visit in every sense.

Chosen to travel on China Airlines for no other reason than it sounded reputable. Besides, couldn’t be any worse than the little known carrier I’d used from Azerbaijan to Kazakhstan. An ageing Russian Tupulov jet. The sort where you’d wish they’d relax the restrictions on rivet guns in the cabin. In flight meal boiled sweets. Helps with the depressurisation.

My trusty steed Emma secure back in Wuhan for a few days, a simple task to fly south, albeit briefly. A brief introduction to Hong Kong. And a chance to visit the imaginatively titled “Flying Ball Bicycle Company“, introduce myself to “Bikeman” with whom I’d been corresponding via e-mail. I imagined a bushy beard. No idea why.

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Sophisticated society

December 1st, 2010

Waterfront bistros. Fine dining. Carefully tended public spaces. Parks and wide plazas. Early evening. A mostly older generation. Enjoying a brisk stroll, a few jogging, others walking their dogs. Suitably attired. Smart casuals or proper sports kit.

Lake - web

There’d been a steady upwards trend in prosperity as I’d headed eastwards. But there was a sophistication here on a scale I’d not encountered before. Admittedly I was close to Wuhan’s business and financial district, but that just seemed to reinforce comparisons with London’s upmarket Canary Wharf.

waterfront - web

A few laps of the lake in my improvised running kit. Luxury apartment blocks and and skyscrapers. Like so much of China, there was a scale here. Huge. But not intimidating. Proportionate.

Skyscrapers - web

Passed a few runners doing the opposite circuit. Nod and a smile. But otherwise lost in thought. I liked China. Both the country and its people. Not the first flush of a passionate romance. More an enduring love. Warts and all.

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Eastwards to Wuhan

December 1st, 2010

Cold, penetrating drizzle. Dark. Walked for perhaps half a mile along the street. Clothes shops. Every one of them. Then a bakery. Mostly cakes. I was famished. Been a long day. But I wanted something more substantive. A brief contemplative pause, then continued on. Hopeful but not optimistic.

I’d reached Xiaogan late afternoon. Final stop before the city of Wuhan, the end of the two hundred mile leg from Xiangfan. Reminded me of my first cycle tour, Holyhead to Cardiff along the Lon Las Cymru route six years previously. Similarities mostly confined to distance. Impoverished the final section around Merthyr Tydfil might be, but reckoned it fared quite a bit better than many of the rural settlements I’d seen in China.

Zaoyang. Suizhou. And now Xiaogan. Cities. My overnight stops. And relatively straightforward to get in and out of. Chaotic yes. Of course. But with little climb to contend with each day, progress was swift. Frequently passing ambling electric scooters, the odd motorbike. And each and every bicycle. Edging ever closer to Hong Kong.

Plodded on for another half an hour or so. Quite where I was in Xiaogan I really wasn’t sure. City centres sometimes a bit hit and miss. Sometimes there’d be helpful signs – the likes of "Zaoyang proper" – and I’d learnt the corresponding Chinese characters. But not tonight. Prospects for dinner weren’t looking good.

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Change of direction

November 30th, 2010

Heading south. At least that’s how it felt. Just as it seemed I’d been riding east since crossing from Kazakhstan. Truth was, it’d been south easterly the whole way. Maybe east south east. Cardinal points confusing. But now, at the very least, in the turn. No longer wedded to the G312 National Road that ran across the entire breadth of China.

Through the mountains of western China, across the Gobi desert, steep climbs and rolling descents east of Lanzhou, again beyond Xi’an. At times it seemed madness. But now the wide flood plain of the Hanshui River. Sudden swift progress.

In reality, the southerly plunge to Hong Kong would start a few days beyond the city of Wuhan. My next major stop. Couple of hundred miles further on. And yet the change of direction already seemed largely complete.

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Around Xiangfan

November 30th, 2010

Xiangfan - web

For all their madness, Georgian drivers were predictable. Not the Chinese. And it was getting worse. Towns. Cities. Vehicles stopping abruptly. Bicycles, electric scooters, motorbikes weaving through the traffic. As often against the flow as with it. Pedestrians drifting into the road. And yet it is the very absence of order, the uncertainty, that prevents complete calamity. Engenders caution. Just enough.

Construction - web

Xiangfan was no different. Not just the traffic. For it was a warm day. Mid-twenties. Reminded me of Urumqi, the first city I’d encountered in western China. Construction and consumerism. Shopping plazas, office blocks, housing complexes. The usual international High Street brands. Familiar fast food outlets. At first a novelty. But no longer. Not for a long time.

Consumerism - web

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Amicable separation

November 29th, 2010

Parting of old friends. We’d been together since I’d crossed into China from Kazakhstan. Good few thousand miles. Rough with the smooth. Treasured memories. But time to go our separate ways. For my companion, the G312 National Road, that’d be to Shanghai. Of course, there’d been signs. There usually was. If you looked carefully enough.

Sign - web

Wuhan. About 300 miles to the south east. Along the G316 National Road. The next major stop on my route to Hong Kong. Shanghai was tempting. Around eight hundred miles east. A crossing of Asia concluded within a few weeks. But the former British colony held great appeal. No waivering.

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Rough roads and hazy memories

November 29th, 2010

Familiar names. Shangnan. Xixia. Dengzhou. Last few overnight stops. Yet already hazy. Jumbled fragments of imagery. Confused. Cluttered with recollections of the road. Dust. Diesel fumes. Stretches reduced to rough track by heavy lorries. Struggles with shambolic local traffic.

lorries - web

None of the places I’d stopped were without merit. Not least because each evening I’d negotiated a suitable room rate. And then, next day, presented with bill for rather less. As perplexing as the dimness of memory.

Difficult choice east of Xixia. Leave the relative certainty of the G312 National road for a much more direct route to the city of Xiangfan. A day less. But on a lesser Provincial road. Risk it might deteriorate to little more than a rough track.

Worries proving surprisingly unfounded. Rapid progress. Much of it along a tree lined avenue, as if back in France. Warm sun. Day dreaming. Summers back in Pembrokeshire. Childhood memories. Pleasant recollections. And yet, until fairly recently, I’d lost touch with my best friend from those days. Hoping to be reunited in North America after over a quarter of a century. Perhaps riding together once more. Lots to talk about.

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