I had intended to get an early start, but hey – we’re on vacation, right? Pollo rode, and I got going on train research. I found a great train schedule in English via Google, and looked for trains to Guilin or Kunming. The Guilin train left from both Guangzhou and Shenzhen, and I figured the Shenzhen departure would leave us enough time to get there, with push-off at 5:30 p.m. However, this failed to take into account another excellent transportation adventure from Katie and Pollo.
Yup, sarcasm: the vagaries of intercity transport from HK has driven me to it. To cut a long and complaint-ridden story a smidge shorter, the trouble began with the infrequency of the ordinary ferry service accepting “freight.” OK – this was my fault; we’d been on Lantau 4 days and I had failed to get hold of a ferry schedule. We waited until 1:30 for the ordinary ferry. Then, in Central Station, we were trudging the 2-odd kilometers to the line we needed, when suddenly Pollo (slightly behind me) was stopped by a yellow-jacketed MTR worker. His English was clear enough: “You may not bring bicycle in here. Please come with me.” We were 200 meters from the train and safety! Argh! We were taken to a customer service desk, where our purchased tickets were refunded and we were politely and firmly shown the exit. Great. Now what?
I supposed the next thing was to take the ferry across Victoria Harbor to Tsim Sha Tsui, where if we couldn’t sneak on the train, perhaps we could get a bus or taxi to Shenzhen. Pricey, but maybe our only option. However, finding the train station in Tsim Sha Tsui once we disembarked from the Star Ferry proved a major obstacle. It was right there – helpful people pointed it out to us – but how to get to it across the impassable barricades of the major highways and overpasses was beyond us for a good hour. By this point I was actually, honestly, wishing we had left our bikes behind. Never before have I cursed my favorite mode of transportation, but this was just too hard.
Anyway, looking for a public telephone from which to get online and thus research alternatives, I did enter the train station which had a clear little sign at the entrance: no bikes. Grasping at a straw, I went up to the ticket counter to ask if there was any way to get the bikes on or what the alternative might be. For goodness sakes, this is China! The capital of bike riding worldwide, right? The man said sure, but we’d have to put them in plastic bags, and pay an extra charge. Fine! Great news! As it turned out, no bags were necessary, but a fare equal to our passengers’ tickets was charged, and little “Accompanied Freight” tickets were attached to our bikes. (It turns out that the Eastern Line, which we got on once on the Kowloon side of the harbor, used to be the KCR railroad until literally a month or so ago when it and the MTR were consolidated into one operation. The KCR accepts bikes. The MTR does not. Go figure.)
Immigration out of HK and into China was fairly painless in Shenzhen, but it was totally clear that we would not make the train to Guilin that night. I was standing in line at the ticket counter in Shenzhen, planning to ask about a train to Kunming perhaps instead, when a man came up to me. “Hello, do you need help?” I melted internally. After the harrowing transportation day, and the prospect of having to stay in Shenzhen for the night, his friendly offer of assistance almost made me weep in gratitude. He waited in line with me, and when my turn came, he asked about trains to Kunming, relaying the information that there were none until the next day. So he recommended buying the tickets to Guilin for tomorrow, then spending the night in Shenzhen. I was nervous about finding a cheap hotel, but he told me he knew of a place close by that cost just 200 yuan, which seemed great to me.
He even fronted me 500 yuan to buy the train tickets (234 Y each) since I’d been misinformed when exiting the KCR/Eastern rail line station that I’d be able to use HK dollars to purchase the train tickets. Then he took me to a money changing place upstairs, where I found that the HK dollar has lost value again (along with the US dollar) in relation to the yuan. I should have changed all my cash to yuan last week!
Our new friend, whose name was David, then walked us 10 minutes or so to the hotel he’d mentioned. I admit I was wondering, slightly suspicious of his extreme generosity, what he wanted from us. But during the walk, he told us he’s a businessman, and works with a company that produces mostly T-shirts (custom, minimum order 1,000 pieces). He hastened to add, though, that he has friends in many aspects of manufacturing, including furniture, fashion accessories, and more. He says that he likes to help foreign people because sometimes he can discover business contacts. So I gladly took a few of his business cards. Anyone needing a Chinese manufacturing contact, please let me know1 (He also mentioned that he knows people who have access to top-quality fake brand name goods. These aren’t available on the street, but are sequestered away in warehouses to avoid prosecution by the anti-piracy people, I suppose.)
I was momentarily affronted when David asked me not only where I work, but also what my salary is; but then I remembered a snippet I’d read in my China guidebook; that this sort of question is normal and not to be considered rude. He kept saying something that was funny to me, “But your company should pay for your hotel, right?” I replied that since I was on vacation, that didn’t really apply. Seems he has a concept of American businesspeople as being bottomless pits of (company) wealth.
Anyway, he was solicitous almost to the point of annoyance once we arrived at the hotel, coaching us to lock all windows and close the drapes when we left. “You don’t want anyone to know you have bicycles in here!” he chastened. He had been shocked when I’d told him in response to his question that my bike cost around $600. (Of course I didn’t jump to tell him how much Pollo’s carbon racing bike is worth!) He said that bikes in China are around $15 or perhaps $20 for a new model, and under $10 for a used model. Of course, this represents somewhere on the order, I think, of a tenth of a month’s paycheck for the average Chinese.
We asked David to come to dinner with us to thank him for his generous help, and he took us to a Szechuan style restaurant several blocks away (he’s from Chengdu, so the southwestern Chinese style of food is his preference). He ordered for us, and we had some fish stew, cauliflower with smoked pork, and lots of plain silken tofu. A very good meal, but I was drooping with exhaustion by the end and very much ready for bed. The cigarette smoke here, impossible to escape in every restaurant and public space, is really bothering my throat. It was stinging tonight and I went to bed hoping it’d be better in the morning…
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