Across Continents

Ken's Blog

Bah humbug…

December 9th, 2010

New Years Eve in Sydney. Australia’s cultural Capital. And I wasn’t looking forward to it. Not a bit. Truth was, I’d be arriving early in the morning on an overnight flight from Hong Kong. Then there’d be a twelve hour wait for my connection to Cairns, the starting point for my southerly run along the east coast. Reckoned on arriving at lodgings close to midnight.

Much as I might want to see in the New Year – and my third continent – in style, the grim reality is that after being deprived of all but a modicum of sleep the previous night, a vat or two of caffeine in domestic departures… I think you get the picture. Of course, there are earlier connections. And better days to travel. But a lot more expensive. Even toyed with the idea of temporary membership of an airline lounge to take some of the pain away, but the airlines have already wised up to that scam one.

Booking the flights has been enough of an experience. Shades of colonic irrigation. Some people enjoy it. I don’t. Actually, that’s the easy bit. The real fun starts with the excess baggage rules and charges. For which possession of a bicycle appears to be viewed as something of an aggravating factor. Complicated further by using, of necessity, two separate airlines with different requirements and fees. Makes the various Central Asian visa and immigration rules look like they’d merit a Plain English award.

Scales - web

So. No plans to saw the handle off my toothbrush. It folds. Or fly into tropical Cairns wearing my down jacket. Far too light. But I do know exactly how much all the kit weighs. Courtesy of a set of children’s bathroom scales. About £2.50 from a Chinese Walmart.

And I’ve also worked out how to legitimately exploit the carry-on luggage rules to their fullest extent. I’ll be the one boarding with a full seven kilograms in my bag. Maps and notebooks (’reading material’) in my pockets. Netbook and cameras carried separately. Whilst wearing my iPod. Pondered – albeit briefly – what to do with one of my spare folding tyres. Ressembles a cricketer’s protective box. Sort of.

Frustrating? Yes. Time-consuming? Yes. And I’d had help. A lot. No need to shop around the various airlines. My parents had very kindly done that for me. Simply had to follow their advice. Which I’d done. To the letter. And also pleased I’d already got my Australian visa. Saved a few more hours online. And my sanity. Just needed to get across the de-facto border from mainland China into Hong Kong. But that’s another story….

[Author’s note: You may be surprised to know that the English language version of the Kazakhstan visa and immigration rules probably does merit a Plain English award. Invaluable for fending off corrupt border guards. Sadly not available in hardback]

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Queuing theory

December 5th, 2010

I don’t do queues. Just because I’m English doesn’t mean I should relish such things. Problem is, neither do the Chinese. Where we differ is I do like order. Which is very British. And this disparity was becoming a source of increasing frustration at Check-In in Shenzhen airport. The couple ahead of me had morphed into an entire extended family. They’d oversized luggage, a few had forgotten their identity cards. And they were late.

Best laid plans do go awry. That can happen to anyone. But this was just plain incompetence. I don’t mind that. Provided it doesn’t impact on me. Which it was. Unable to express my irritation verbally. Probably not a bad thing. If you have to explain to someone why they should have got out of bed earlier, you’re usually wasting your time. Obliged instead to use more subtle techniques to make them feel uncomfortable. And that I could do. Well enough.

It got worse. Or at least I perceived it did. Security check. Not the reassuring professionalism, the thoroughness of Wuhan. Just blind procedural obedience. Uninspiring. Had to remove my netbook to be scanned separately. At a loss to understand why. The requirement probably as baseless as the notion than using a mobile phone in a petrol station could induce a spark. You’d be better off banning people in nylon track suits. One of the reasons I’ve never re-fuelled my car in Newcastle.

Pseudo-science or patently contrived arguments have never done much for me. But give them a safety or security moniker and you dare not challenge them. Old favourites like the insistence of some airlines that you have to let down your bicycle tyres before they’ll carry them. If they were to explosively deflate, even in the reduced pressure of the hold, cycling will be the least of your worries.

But best of all is the insistence that packages that smell of almonds should be treated as suspicious. Trust me. Reckon you’re most likely to encounter such things around Christmas. Usually before. Unless you’ve got stingy relatives. That’s because, chances are, someone’s sent you a Christmas cake. Plastic explosives that ressemble marzipan haven’t been manufactured since World War Two. Quite realistic it was too apparently. A few people actually ate some by mistake. Doubt constipation was a problem.

Unable, wisely, to verbalise my little rant, I headed off for a coffee. Or I would have done had it not been for the price. Anything between six and thirteen pounds. I was sure it’d been cheaper in Azerbaijan. This was not a good day.

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Village life

December 4th, 2010

I’d imagined Hong Kong to be a place where space is at a premium. And it is. But I’d been surprised at the amount of open space, certainly outside of the centre that is Kowloon and Hong Kong Island. And even there, steep sided peaks in excess of two thousand feet seem to keep construction in relative check.

Park - web

I’d taken the MTR – the Mass Transit Railway – out into the New Territories, heading towards the town of Tuen Mun. By far the biggest part of Hong Kong, it was the New Territories that the UK leased from China until 1997. Off to meet up with Phil, a Yorkshireman and fellow touring cyclist, living and working in the former colony.

Hong Kong is also a bit bigger than I’d expected. New Territories, a peninsular of mainland China, plus over two hundred assorted islands. Amounts to over four hundred square miles. And with Tuen Mun in one of its farther reaches, almost an hour’s journey out from the centre on the MTR.

You’d probably want to avoid the MTR during rush hour. But, outside of that, not an unpleasant experience. Vast stations, some almost cavernous. Air-conditioned carriages. All immaculate. If you had to forage in the bins for food it’d be a gourmet experience. A network modelled on London’s Jubilee Line perhaps? Probably the other way around. And Octopus card rather than Oyster.

Smallholding - web

I was staying in a small village close to Tuen Mun. A few small holdings, tenant farmers, close by. Gradually being eroded away. Urban encroachment. Tower blocks, the staple accommodation for many of Hong Kong’s residents, a lingering presence.

Towers - web

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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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Facebook friends

November 28th, 2010

Facebook

And now for…. a message for friends following on Facebook. Alas, the website is blocked in mainland China so, as you might imagine, access can be a bit tricky!

In practice this means that, courtesy of an overseas third party, I can respond to "Friends Requests" – bit sporadic I admit – but replying to your messages will have to wait until I reach Hong Kong. And the blog posts? That’s an automated feed direct from my website.

Please be patient – am really looking forward to reconnecting with everyone fairly soon!

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