Across Continents

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Surreal worlds..

December 17th, 2010

A practical consequence of the often great disparity between rural and urban China is that you can find yourself sleeping in a truck stop, a simple bed and a communal pit toilet. The next night in a small hotel. Standards vary a bit. But unarguably very different worlds. The constant flipping between the two, at times, almost surreal.

Snow fields - web

And so it was tonight. Admittedly not a truck stop the previous night. But a room far more basic than the one I was now in. Struggling to stay warm. Not now. Even a computer. Ken Bruce live on the Radio 2 iPlayer. The odd Christmas track.

Washing - web

Earlier, on the road, the dry cold I’d hoped for. Past slowly thawing rice fields. A woman hand washing clothes outside. A smattering of snow around her.

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Snow progress

December 16th, 2010

Winsnow - web

Next morning. First light. View from the window. Snow. But at least not the insipid, icy rain of the previous day. Perhaps the dry cold I’d hoped for. I’d know shortly. Soon be stepping outside. Be back on the road in an hour or so. Kit for the most part dry. Onwards towards Hong Kong.

Morale had recovered from yesterday’s dip. And the intermittent heater had, miraculously, managed to stay on all night. Dreading to think what the room would have been like had it stopped once again. I’d still slept in my fleece. Comfortable. Just.

But I was still a little vexed as to how I’d actually cross into Hong Kong. Ferry. Train. Or bus. Probably in that order of preference. Riding through the various border posts not permitted. Plenty of advice from various people. Much of it conflicting. Or at least lacking the certainty I was seeking. The bordering city of Shenzhen home to millions. Wandering around, trying your luck, and you’d be there for a week.

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First snows

October 24th, 2010

First snows - web

First snows. I’d expected rain, heard the gentle pitter patter during the night. Woken to find a light dusting on the surrounding steep hillsides. The odd cyclist trundling by, often with an umbrella to provide some shelter from the still falling flakes.

Suppose I shouldn’t have been that surprised. Overnight temperatures forecast to be a few degrees above freezing, a band of rain passing through. An altitude of about six thousand feet. But still quite a contrast from the bright, sunny weather just a few days earlier, then a pleasant low twenties by mid-morning.

By nine the snow had stopped. Roads wet rather than slushy. Passing vehicles a light smattering at worst. A check of the map, the route through the mountains to Xi’an (pronounced Shian). I’d be on the provincial road, akin to an A road in the UK, rather than the dual carriageway. Probably safer if conditions worsened, but tougher, slower riding, the road surface often poor.

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