Across Continents

Ken's Blog

Onward to Wuhan

November 25th, 2010

Fresh visa. New direction. A southerly shift. South East now. Towards the city of Wuhan. Perhaps ten days away. Two weeks at a push. Hills at first, then opening out. A large flood plain. Wishful thinking perhaps. Continuing as far south as Nanchang I hoped. The next major city before the final plunge south to Hong Kong.

Plans were in place. Arrangements made. My new visa insufficient to reach the former colony. Nights drawing in. So I’d conjured up a little, albeit quite legitimate, scheme to overcome this. Enabling me to continue south at a sensible pace. Make sure I saw what I’d come to see. China. Reaching Hong Kong in time for Christmas. But first I needed to reach Wuhan.

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Back at the Bureau

November 24th, 2010

The solitary policewoman. Still looking bored. I’d returned to the Public Security Bureau to collect my new visa. I hoped. After the protracted efforts to submit the application, I’d a suspicion it mightn’t be as easy as just walking in, handing over the receipt, and departing with another three weeks in my pocket.

Xian visa

I was wrong. Quickly checking the visa was all in order, the obligatory signature, and I was off. Having thanked the officer profusely. She’d never know quite how overjoyed I was to be reunited with my passport. I’d become quite attached to it. Back outside, the obligatory taxi back into the city. And a driver I’d met previously. How could I be so sure? I’d recognise that dermatitis anywhere.

[Author’s note: If you are remaining in the same location overnight as for the previous day, ensure your hosts re-register you and your new visa with the Public Security Bureau. Insist on this – it’s a legal requirement in China]

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Around Xi’an

November 24th, 2010

Bell - web

Xi’an. It somehow felt different. Subtle nuances. Elusive at first. Masked by familiarity. Similarities with other cities I’d passed through. Urumqi. Lanzhou. Barely discernable order on the roads. Hectic. Pavements at times as frenetic. Familiar shop fronts. Small cafes.

Western influence a little more in evidence? Or simply catering to tourists, drawn to the walled city by the Terracotta Warriors nearby? A few more smart hotels. Unappealing. Bold monoliths, devoid of the relative homeliness of the small establishments. Faceless foreigners. Wealthy Chinese busying themselves.

Mug - web

A morning amongst the side streets, the markets, vendors in the city’s Muslim Quarter. Then a coffee in Starbucks. I’d baulked a little at the cost. Quite a bit more than I was used to paying. But, I realised, suggestive of greater urban prosperity. A shift of emphasis. A few more upmarket shops, catering for disposal income rather than necessities. Ever so slight, but there nevertheless.

And there was something else. But far less subtle. Westerners. Saw more in a single day than I’d seen in the previous month. And with that, inevitably, English, both spoken and written. On street signs, in places foreigners might well frequent. The de facto international language.

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Bedtime stories

November 23rd, 2010

Two in the morning. Bit of a sore throat. Decided to wander down to the lobby in search of a cold drink. I wasn’t alone. A young man sat at the bar. Was there a problem in my room, he enquired. No, I explained. I asked what had brought him downstairs. He was lonely. Waiting for some company to be provided. Discreetly.

I was intrigued. I’d heard about the late night phone calls. Offers of massages, that sort of thing. But never knowingly received one. In the end, decided that was the norm, claims to the contrary being just another mistake in my increasingly unreliable guide book. Until now.

Sounds strange, but I felt like I’d been missing something. Not that I’d ever accept an offer. Absolutely not. Host of moral and practical reasons. But I would still like the opportunity to decline. Politely of course. If such calls were still a part of travelling in China, I wanted to experience it.

Advert - web

Sensing my disappointment, he suggested that the absence of calls might be explained by the fact I’d spent much of my time in Western China. Much more Muslim, more conservative, than the east. I wasn’t so sure. Many of the places I’d stopped had various latex and lubricant products available for sale. Just promoting public health? Or something else? And there’d been the odd suggestive advert or two.

But I’d just one question. How much did company typically cost? Explained I’d absolutely no idea. The equivalent of about fifty pounds for a night in central China, quite a bit more in the metropolises like Shanghai or Beijing.

With that, I made my excuses and left. Fifty pounds. Month in a truck stop. Decent sized replica Terracotta Warrior. An awful lot of noodles. Think I’d settle for “Book at Bedtime” on the BBC iPlayer.

[Author’s note: The events described above took place in central China. The exact location has been deliberately obscured to avoid unwarranted embarrassment to others. Specifically, no inferences should be drawn from when this post appears.You’d be wrong. And just in case you’re wondering, they are phone numbers I’ve obscured in the above picture – this website does have a few editorial – and ethical – rules. Mine!]

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Planning ahead

November 23rd, 2010

A couple of questions from my neighbour Jon had got me thinking. Something he’d posed ahead of a forthcoming interview we’d be doing together for a local radio station. How much time was spent planning ahead? What sort of things did I do?

Some long-haul touring cyclists do favour wicker baskets on their handlebars. But I’d be surprised if they’d extend the Enid Blyton “Famous Five” analogy to suggest a world of lush meadows, lashings of ginger beer and thick cut sandwiches. It’s not that there aren’t idyllic, care-free moments. It’s just that there’s quite a bit of other stuff to do.

Take my recent stop in the walled city of Xi’an. Admittedly a bit longer off the road than is the norm. A forced wait for a fresh visa. But reasonably representative nevertheless. Catching up on the blogs. Elaborating on those little gems of ideas that emerge in the saddle. Photos to upload. Bicycle to clean, kit to wash. Keeping an eye on the funds. As much the mundane as the more motivating.

When it comes to the next country or two, there’s only one starting point. Visas. Without which everything else is academic. Just day dreaming. Then it’s maps, logistics, timelines. Slowly assembling a mental picture of the road ahead. Exactly how much you do, the depth, very much dependant on the individual. What you’re comfortable with. Some content to ride on the fly. Others, myself included, preferring a bit more certainty. But not unduly constraining. A balance.

But there’s one thing I’m fortunate I need not concern myself too much with. Airlines. Admittedly I need to drum up some dates, but, other than that, I just leave it to my parents to advise on the best deals. Forty one and never to old to listen to Mum and Dad.

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A few answers…

November 22nd, 2010

A little while ago, with a degree of trepidation, I’d posed a question. Any questions? Here’s my attempts at answering a few of them…

Do you only get green tea in China, or is there black as well… and do they drink it with milk? Sugar? Honey? Yoghurt etc? And how is it for you?

“Green tea is the staple, usually drunk warm without milk or sugar. You also see people going about their business with bottles of cold tea. For all its purported health giving properties, I’m not a huge fan, much preferring black tea with a little milk. Powdered milk is widely available, being very popular for infants, but black tea usually necessitates finding a decent sized supermarket.

Coffee can - web

Coffee is making beginning to make in-roads, normally in the form of small ring-pull ready-to-drink tins, milk already added. Surprisingly refreshing when drunk cold, despite my normally strong preference for hot black coffee. Jars of instant coffee are much less common, sachets the norm, but with powdered milk and sugar already added.

In the bigger cities you’ll also find plenty of Western style coffee bars, offering decent selection, but at a price. Comparable with what you’d pay in the UK, but expensive for China. Some local chains, and familiar international ones like Starbucks.”

Giardia – have you suffered from this illness in China?

“Fortunately not! Just prolonged and persistent bouts of travellers diarrhoea, in all probability the product of antibiotic resistant bugs and ineffective counterfeit medications. But, legs fingers crossed, that’s in the past now….”

[With thanks to Jon B for the above questions]

What’s surprised you the most about China?

“Three things really. Firstly, the sheer scale – and pace – of development, vast infrastructure projects – towering suspension bridges, pristine new carriageways, pipelines. Alongside the tangible, a real sense of huge social change. Migration to the cities reminiscent of our own Industrial Revolution. Greater freedoms of expression. The latter some way behind our own, but, given the repressive, brutal nature of the so-called Cultural Revolution just three decades ago, impressive nevertheless.

Secondly, the stark contrast between the relative wealth and prosperity of the urban dweller, and the often grinding poverty to be found in many rural communities. Just one of many challenges China faces, and one it is trying to address as best, and as quickly, as it can.

And finally, as a Western visitor, the relatively high standard of living in towns and cities, and yet remarkably cheap. Decent meal out for a few pounds, a three star hotel for ten to twelve.”

[With thanks to Barbara S for the above questions]

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Green Cross Code

November 22nd, 2010

Laudable enough. The Green Cross Code. Wait until it’s safe to cross. Arrive alive. Just wouldn’t work in China. You’d be stranded. Problem is right filtering is usually permitted. At the same time as pedestrians are given a green light to cross. Tufty would be road kill.

Like the Chinese Highway Code. Either so short as to be of little consequence. Or so fiendishly complicated as to be rendered useless. No one seems to know who’s got right of way. If such a thing exists.

But the Chinese are an inventive people. An elegant solution. Literally. Pair yourself up with a beautiful woman. Nobody ever runs them down.

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Linguists

November 21st, 2010

Funny bunch linguists. Masters of the understated. I mean try and get one to admit they’re actually quite good at a language. Even a passable understanding. I wish you luck. Believe me I’ve tried. You might be fortunate, get a begrudging acknowledgement that they might have at least grasped the rudiments. Just enough to get by you understand. What the rest of us would call fluent.

To be fair, you’d have to be fairly conceited to claim you could pass yourself off as a native speaker, without chance of being rumbled. I’d met a young English chap back in France, quickly sensed something wasn’t quite right. Simply that he’d been brought up in Brittany, rarely visited his mother country, and as result had missed out on some of the subtle changes to everyday speech. He sounded dated.

You’d be forgiven for thinking linguists are a pretty passive bunch. Ensconced in their dictionaries, of which they usually have quite a few. No such thing as enough. But you’d be wrong. I can think of at least one who builds rockets in her spare time. Her day job equally fast paced. No, the way to draw out those who pursue language as a profession is simply to enquire whether they’re an interpreter or a translator. Bit like inadvertently asking a French Canadian if he or she is an American.

For all my assertions above of the understated, you may assured that my own claims as to the staggeringly feeble nature of my own language skills are, if anything, an overstatement. I aspire to double figures in Mandarin. Embarrassing? At times, yes. Makes me feel very humbled when I encounter others with such a good grasp of my mother tongue. For which they invariably apologize profusely. Just makes me feel worse. Question of aptitude. I don’t have any. Have to rely on enthusiasm over ability. Which can be quite fun.

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On air… towards Hong Kong

November 21st, 2010

R10bannerSWUP

Courtesy of friends at my local community radio station in Somerset, England – www.10radio.org– you can catch up with my regular monthly on air chats with the Saturday Morning WakeUp team.

In this latest episode Ken talks to his good friend and neighbour, Jon, about some of the challenges of crossing China, and looks ahead to Hong Kong and beyond. Just click on the link below to hear the latest instalment.

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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Self-deprecating society

November 20th, 2010

He’d described himself as the office manager. I’d discovered later he was Her Majesty’s Consul. Terribly understated these Foreign Office chaps. No doubt a diplomatic necessity. But in the budgetary battleground of the recent Comprehensive Spending Review? Perhaps not such a helpful attribute. Which is a real shame. Loosing a bigger slice of their funding than many other Government departments.

Admittedly I do have a soft spot for the FCO. Starts with the top. William Hague. Whatever your politics, one of the finest orators of our time. Devastating wit at the Dispatch Box delivered with a wicked schoolboy smile. An admiration cemented some years ago when I stayed with one of his most ardent constituency supporters at her farmhouse B&B.

I’ve purloined the odd cup of tea and biscuits off the FCO over the years. Realising that, beyond the grandeur of their King Charles Street headquarters, they do rather a lot with very little. Even more so now. Problem is, influence is a pretty intangible commodity. Well nigh impossible for those nasty Treasury bean counters to measure. But my respect for them stems as much from their Consular work as their diplomatic efforts. Assistance that can be relied on if things go seriously awry. Suppose it’s a bit like an insurance policy. Never appreciated until you need to claim.

It’d been spurred on to reflect on their overseas efforts by a single word. Leaping out from the recently published Comprehensive Spending Review. Fairness. Twenty five occurrances. A diplomatic watchword. Sort of. And it was a wet day. But if I was ever tempted to take up politics on my return, to put things right, two things stood in the way. Firstly, I’d have to unseat my own MP. Nice chap. Came to wave me off. And secondly, the House of Commons. Charming crockery but terrible coffee. It’d never do.

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