I spent a restless night, nervous about the trip to come, + all that it might entail. By the time morning came, that nervousness had increased till I felt sick to my stomach. One would thing that with all the travelling we’ve done, across so many borders, such things would no longer have an effect upon me, + generally that is true, but something about China has massively heightened my apprehension. I’ve always felt this to be Val’s trip, + have always felt a little worried about it, but the closer it has come, the more it has preyed upon my mind. But I’m not the sort to allow such feelings to alter my plans, so committed to China we are.
Val ate a light breakfast – I couldn’t face anything – + we walked down to the CTS office, where we were given a stick-on lapel badge, +, after a wait, put onto a minibus, quite a modern, comfortable one, to carry us to the border. The bus was crowded – all our fellow-passengers were Macao Chinese – but there was a seat for everyone, + it wasn’t far to the border. At the border, we were treated very well. As the only whiteys, we had our own interpreter/official to help us thro’ the formalities. Of which there were quite a few, since China is as bound up with bureaucracy as anywhere else. Or perhaps rather more so. And as we’d anticipated, our 2 passports bound together caused them some confusion. But they were both efficient + polite, even providing us with tea, + in a short enough time we were thro’. One of the other officials there chatted with us for quite a while, particularly when he discovered we could speak some French. He was middle-aged, + had been born in pre-revolutionary Vietnam, so spoke French fluently. Other officials (particularly our guide – a little jealous, I think) would keep finding him jobs to do, but he would keep coming back for more conversation. Eventually, we were told to get on the bus, another nice new modern one – that’s what you get for travelling with CTS.
We were 2 of only 4 people on the bus, which surprised us greatly, until we stopped just a couple of hundred yards down the road at the Overseas Chinese Hotel. We contented ourselves there with a pot of tea, from which our cups were constantly re-filled by the waitresses, almost before we’d finished taking a sip. And after about half an hour, off we went, this time with a full bus. The ride was uneventful, the scenery unexciting, tho’ we did have to dismount from the bus twice when it bumped down the ramps onto ferries.
We finally stopped in the heart of Guangzhou (old name, Canton) at about 2.30, while I paid a prolonged visit to the toilet, Val tried to find out about the boat to Yuangshou, our next destination. The people there weren’t really able to help, however, so we decided first of all to make our way to the hostel. I wasn’t much of a help at this stage, I was feeling unwell, confused, + threatened, + little things going wrong – not knowing where the boat terminal was, the buses being crowded to bursting point – only exacerbated my temper. But, of course, we managed.
Eventually, a bus came along with enough room for us to squeeze into, + fortunately it followed a simple route, sticking to the river, so that we could keep track of where we were. And when we reached the footbridge leading to a big island in the river, we got off. This was Shamian Island, the old European part of the city, + was where the Govt Workers Hostel was located. Not that finding it, even from this close, was all that easy. We had the name of the place written out in Chinese characters, so we’d assumed all we had to do was show that to a local guy to have the place pointed out to us. So we weren’t prepared for the shrugs of ignorance we received from the first 5 or 6 people. We felt completely lost – this was our only card, + it wasn’t working. But persistence paid off, + eventually we were directed to a large stone building. This turned out to be not exactly the right place, but it did have some connection with it, + the lady in the reception (a dark + dingy hall, like a Victorian school) rang the right place up for us. Her news was not encouraging – she told us the hostel was full – but we were more or less prepared for that sort of response, + rather than just accepting it, pushed, twisted, squirmed. Our reward was that the lady passed the buck, + directed us around to the hostel itself.
It wasn’t far away, but we still had problems finding it. Luckily, we spotted some westerners, who were able to show us the place. They were an English couple, + despite their useful assistance, I took an immediate fierce dislike to them both. First of all, the guy gloated loudly about having arrived from Macao on the overnight boat – despite all the assurances we’d received to the contrary, there was indeed a boat – thereby saving money + having a far more pleasant journey. Then he played the prophet of gloom about our chances of getting a bed. Not the sort of stuff one wishes to hear, whether it’s true or not.
It was, indeed, a struggle – the girl there was firm that there was no room, but we sat + waited, tried a different attendant 30 mins later, + were shown into a lounge, where we would be able to sleep on the settees. There were a couple of other packs there, so clearly we wouldn’t be the only ones there, so heaven knows why we hadn’t been shown in there in the first place. Thus settled, we strolled into the dorm to see if we could get some information from other travellers there, + it was indeed a profitable source.
After a shower, Val + I went out to find something to eat, + eventually chanced upon a small local café. There was a mix-up with the ordering, + we ended up with far too much, so we were afraid that, as well as bloating ourselves, we would be spending way over the odds, so it came as a very pleasant surprise when the bill was very cheap indeed. And the food had been pretty fair. I’m not a great fan of Chinese food, + had been a little worried I wouldn’t be able to eat anything, but I managed my fair share of this.
Later on, back at the hostel, we listened to the radio – already proving its weight in gold – read, + wrote. As the evening wore on, more + more people came flooding in to the place. It didn’t bother me any, we had our place, but I was pissed off about a Canadian couple in particular. They were obnoxious + rude to the counter staff, + seemed to assert they had a right to the place, that it simply couldn’t be that the place was actually full. We had been pushy too, but had at least been polite – these 2 were aggressive + abusive. Their only excuse, so far as I could see, was that they were on their way out of China, so had maybe put up with a lot.
And so we are introduced to the difficulties of China – with communication, with finding our way, with bureaucracy, with the whole notion of holding one’s ground until someone gave way – that were to dog us throughout our visit. And a familiar feeling for me, of debilitating nervousness – only aided by the physical discomfort I was feeling. But, like I say in the blog, we did manage.
It has been pointed out to me that the overall impression I give throughout this diary is of grumpiness, and I cannot deny there is an awful lot of moaning. Iam sure this reflects only too accurately my general demeanour throughout our journey, but would also like to point out that the diary was my opportunity to unload, to get off my chest whatever I was feeling. And if these thoughts and fee.,ing were more negative than otherwise, I would suggest that that is the nature of sunch confessional writing – there are also occasions when I exclaim upon the sheer joy and wonder of a place, but the general detail is far more likely to be downbeat.
