6: From Beijing with Love
BEIJING, CHINA – 24 June, 2002
Beijing was a blurry, foggy mess when I arrived. I had expected searing-hot 40�C summer temperatures but I guess a cold front came by a few days ago and it had been raining every day since.
I found Jing Hua Hotel without much difficulty and was issued Bed 3 in the 20-bed dormitory.
Bed 11 guy was playing guitar in the room. He introduced himself as Raymond, from the Philippines. He was a musician and had been playing in bars around China for months. I recalled another Filipino musician Ato I met earlier in Dali and asked if Raymond knew him. Bingo. They had jammed with each other for years before in Manila and even here in China. What a coincidence!
Eager to exercise my limbs after the 48-hour train confinement, I checked out the massive city immediately. The place to start wandering would be the Tiananmen area. I soon realised that due to the internet bar fire incident a few weeks ago that killed 20+ young people in Beijing, the authorities had gone and shut down all internet bars. Well, I guess, travellers like me would be ‘shut out’ from communications with our loved ones for a while.
Beijing was impressively modern. I could really feel the efforts put in by the government to improve its facilities and roads, etc… and be spiffy and ready for Olympics 2008. I mean, there were many FREE and CLEAN public toilets around the Tiananmen Square. Something almost unheard of in other parts of China. There seemed to be more toilet attendants than toilet users. I had barely opened the cubicle door to depart before a toilet attendant stuck her head in and asked if I had flushed. Yes, unlike the Chinese, I had been toilet-trained since birth to flush my rose bowl.
For want of a destination, I plucked the Silk Market from the map and strove to get there by walking. The map of Beijing looked innocent enough but Beijing was impossibly gigantic. It took three hours before I reached the Silk Market from the Tiananmen area, thoroughly exhausted.
The Silk Market sold Oriental costumes, fake NORTH-FACE jackets and outdoor backpacks and bags, ties, etc… And I ran into Robin and Louise (from England) whom I had previously met on the horse-trek in Songpan. Woah, it was wonderful to see them again. Louise was buying two Oriental cheong-sams. I would not be caught dead in a cheong-sam but I guess, Western people found them exotic.
We caught up with our travels and had a great laugh over the silly things that happened. Then, I went with them to a famous Beijing Duck restaurant and helped them order two sets of take-away Beijing Ducks as their thanks to the friends they had been staying with in Beijing. Y105 each. Woah… that’s a lot of money to me. But, Robin and Louise were heading home tomorrow and it was time to splurge. Great for them!
BEIJING, CHINA – 25 June, 2002
Bed 2 guy, Guillaume from Canada, invited me to join him to visit the Great Wall. We decided to head to a section called the Huang Hua Great Wall which we heard was wild and crumbling and which had very few tourists.
It had rained continuously since last night. We had chosen the worst day to climb the wall. But we were not alone in this error of judgement. We ran into two other room-mates, Matt and Tim from England, at the metro station and they had decided to camp out at Huang Hua Great Wall tonight… in this weather.
The company was great fun and the 4-hour metro-and-bus ride to get there did not feel that long. Indeed, this section was absolutely wild. It was NOT set up like a kitsch amusement park catered for the Chinese tourists, with T-shirts and souvenir kiosks, a place to print certificates with photos stating ‘I climbed the Great Wall’, etc…
There was only one food stall selling drinks before and after your climb… and a handful of obligatory T-shirts for sale. Hang on, there was no admission fees here. This was incredible news to us.
We huffed and puffed up the Great Wall, scrambling up the rubble and meandering between shrubs in the rain. I was lucky. I had three guys to help lift me up the tricky bits. The view ahead was enshrouded in mist and fog. We could hardly make out the trail of the wall around the mountains. Sometimes, we thought we could see it but then, we couldn’t be sure. Still, in a way, it was great as it thoroughly mystified the Great Wall.
BEIJING, CHINA – 26 June, 2002
Bed 6 Pablo from Argentina had overheard that I needed to make a trip to the Bolivian Embassy to try and apply for a visa authorisation. I explained to him that a Bolivian visa application for Singaporeans seemed to be long and tedious.
As he spoke Spanish, he offered to go with me just in case he could help explain anything in Spanish to the Bolivian staff there. Also, he needed to head down to the Mongolian Embassy to pick up his passport which he had left there for the Mongolian visa.
So, today was embassy-hopping day. I read somewhere I did not require a Mongolian visa if I stayed in the country for less than 14 days. At the Mongolian Embassy, I tried to get a confirmation. The lady surprised me by telling me I had 21 days free. Excellent!
We eventually found the Bolivian Embassy, which seemed to be undergoing some sort of renovations. Side-stepping the rubble outside, Pablo kindly opened the door for us and we entered.
Well, there was not a single Bolivian in sight. An elderly Chinese woman came out and frowned. I explained my intention to her in Mandarin. She barked back that Asians needed to wait 2 to 3 months before an authorisation could be issued, was I willing to wait? Yes, that’s why I came here 3 to 4 months ahead of my intended travel to try and get the authorisation.
She snatched my passport from me and retorted that my China visa would be invalid by then. I patiently informed her I was leaving the country soon and I would have to be contacted by email and with the APPROVE authorisation, I would go to a Bolivian Embassy in United Kingdom, for example, to process the visa. While she disagreed with this move, she grudgingly, very grudgingly, took out an application form and barked out the things I needed to provide – a letter explaining my intention of travel, where I was going, etc…, photo, contact, etc… And I was to return on Monday, not tomorrow nor the day after… Monday.
Pablo, stunned by the rapid exchange of Mandarin between us, was once again put to good use by opening the door for us when we departed.
Argh, what an awful woman!
BEIJING, CHINA – 27 June, 2002
Another rainy day today. Spent the day wandering around the Forbidden City. I had thought I could visit a museum later but seriously, one could only do one thing in one day in Beijing. If you visited a site, that’s it… no chance for another. If you went to the embassies to stock up on visas, that’s it too… no chance to visit a site.
The Forbidden City was vast. I must have spent 4 or 5 hours walking in there and still, I probably only covered 70% of the things available.
As expected, the place was packed with tourists, many of whom were Chinese, many of whom were spitting on the precious Imperial grounds. And as expected, one could dress up in Imperial costumes and pretend to be the child emperor or the concubine or the mostachioed emperor on horse-back. Kitsch.
BEIJING, CHINA – 28 June, 2002
Yesterday’s tour of the Forbidden City thoroughly exhausted me for today. I am sorry to report today was a day off for me.
A few of us late-risers in the dorm did laundry together and then, returned and fought for space to hang our clothes.
Beijing was turning out quite wonderful for me because of the people I met in the dorm. The 20-bed dorm was great. There was always music in the dorm. One couldn’t really sleep as the lights were on late and people were chatting and laughing in the corner. There was no room to hang your laundry. The bathroom was a 25 minute trek down the damp and mouldy basement and as I descended and headed down the long corridor, sometimes, I felt like I was going through a worm-hole and going to emerge as ‘John Malkovich’; sometimes, I imagined seeing a pair of twins standing at the end of the corridor and blood flowing towards me. Like I said, it was a great dorm.
There were always new people popping in and out and new friends to make.
Bed 16 had a Korean-Japanese guy who came wandering in with his possessions tied in a small bundle at the end of a pole. He had untied his bundle and left his entire earthly possession strewn around the bed. We veered near to check out his minimalist life-style and spotted two tiny souvenir toy-yaks. Yep, there was always room for yaks.
Bed 1 Jackie from New Zealand had been staying here for four months, studying Chinese and teaching English. She and Bed 11 Raymond won the long-stayer awards hands-down.
Bed 12 had Ben from USA. He showed me his Russian visa invitation letter last night. As I already had my Russian visa, it appeared I was the most qualified to peruse his invitation letter and approve of the Cyrillic words on them. Today, he must have paid for the emergency processing, for he apparently got his Russian visa and fled Beijing at once.
My next bed, Bed 4, now slept Goretti from the Netherlands. Bed 17 and 18 were soon taken up by Slovenians Jus and Tina. They were all heading to Mongolia soon too.
BEIJING, CHINA – 29 June, 2002
It was the seventh month of Pablo’s 8-month trip around India, Nepal and now, China. Hence, for him, it was time to think of shopping for souvenirs for his friends and loved ones back home.
We headed down to Panjiayuan Market. Gosh, it was an immense market selling all sort of Oriental things. Perhaps some were antiques but I guess most were fakes.
The market had paintings, furniture, vases, giant Buddhas, brass sculptures, coins, wooden carvings, embroideries, ‘ancient’ scriptures, everything that you could imagine. It was amazing.
We walked around for four hours and Pablo bought many items. At one point, we got down to a corner and packed as much stuff as possible into his bag before we proceeded on. I was looking out for snuff bottles as presents for the friends whom I would be visiting in Europe. I finally spotted some I loved and bought three.
About one and a half hours after we had stopped to repack, we passed by the same spot and Pablo eyed a ball of toilet-paper wrapped in a plastic bag lying on the ground. “Hey, that’s my toilet paper…” It must have dropped out just now. Imagine, it had been lying there for the past one and a half hours. Incredulous and giggling away, he reached down to pack it into his bag. As he was doing so, a few stall-holders started yelling, “Hey!! Wo de! (Mine!) Wo de!” “No, it’s wo de!” he retorted adamantly. Hilarious. Fighting over toilet-paper.
BEIJING, CHINA – 30 June, 2002
Today, Bed 11 Raymond would finally leave Jing Hua Hotel. He would attempt to hitch his way to Lhasa via local trucks, without a permit. Bed 12 Ben had done the same in the reverse direction and had advised Raymond on certain tips. Best wishes to him.
I realised my Monday deadline to hand up my application form and letter to the Bolivian Embassy would be due soon. I usually got an A for Procrastination.
I hurriedly wrote a letter and requested for Pablo and Bed 5 Jack (from Spain) to help me translate into Spanish for the Bolivian authorities. I imagined if I submitted my letter in English, they would probably take another month to find someone who understood English to read it.
Then, I headed out to town to try and get my letters typed and printed. Sheesh, when I did not need the services, I would see the signs for ‘Typing/Photocopy’ all over Beijing. But now that I wanted the service, for the life of me, I couldn’t locate these shops.
Also, I needed to post my photos and guidebook home. But, first I needed money for the postal services and again, I could not locate an ATM that worked. This one rejected my card. That one had no cash. It was an ordeal as I trudged around Beijing, hunting for a working ATM.
Once armed with money, I then had no idea where the nearest post office was. Yeah, this was the story of my life in Beijing, wandering around in circles for hours.
At the end of the day, I must have walked for six hours today. So, I figured I deserved a street-side foot massage done near my hostel.
BEIJING, CHINA – 1 July, 2002
Returned to the Bolivian Embassy gingerly. The same elderly Chinese woman came out to check out who had just walked in.
She looked at me with dead eyes, showing no sign of recognition. There was no smile, no flicker of life in her eyes. I cooed and purred as best as I could to try and ignite something in her. My charm failed miserably. Defeated, I proffered my application form and letter nervously.
She glanced at my photo and went, “Hey, that’s a very nice photo of you. When did you take it?” She looked back at me, smiling. SMILING! WHAT THE?!?? I stared back at her, stunned beyond words. She continued to make little noises, worrying about my travelling alone, etc…
Well, hey… what a difference my gorgeous photo made.
BEIJING to EREENHOT, CHINA – 2 July, 2002
Pablo and I had decided to head off to Mongolia together today. Yesterday, Goretti, Jus and Tina had gone to the bus station and attempted to get on the 5pm bus to Ereenhot (border town with Mongolia) and couldn’t get bus tickets.
So, now I was worried that we couldn’t get tickets too. I wanted to try for the earlier 1pm bus for if we could not get on that one, we would try for the 5pm bus. But Pablo had to pack all his souvenirs into his backpack and he suspected he would not be ready by then. He suggested I leave first. We guessed we would see each other across the border tomorrow.
Well, I did make it to the 1pm bus. But this stupid bus went to another bus station and stayed there until 5pm before leaving. Darn!! I should have gone for the 5pm bus instead with all my friends from the Beijing hostel. I was really angry with myself for making this stupid decision to try and cross the border alone. Well, I was not entirely alone. There was one other tourist with me, Barbara from the USA.
She was a peculiar girl. She was only 18 and she informed me that she intended to buy a bicycle in Mongolia and cycle around Mongolia for three months. She hoped that she needed not return to Ulaan Baator to renew her visa after each month, so her idea was to cycle way way way out from the capital. I had no idea how experienced her camping skills were but I had serious doubts about this stunt, especially since I learnt she was a vegan – no meat, no dairy products. Imagine that in Mongolia!
EREENHOT, CHINA to ZAMY-UUD, MONGOLIA to ULAAN BAATOR – 3 July, 2002
We were swiftly scammed into taking a rogue taxi across the border. The sleazeball had said we needed to pay him only after we crossed the border.
Yet, barely 10 minutes later, he informed that he needed Y40 to register something for us. I was now suspicious. As we had no change, we gave him Y100 but I demanded a receipt from him after he got the registration to prove there was such a thing.
Of course, when he returned to the car, he returned Y50 only, claiming he had no change and he couldn’t give me a receipt. I was persistent on this and finally, he shouted back, “As long as I get you across to Mongolia, why do you need the receipt?” Argh, we were stuck. We shouldn’t have gone with him. Bad, bad, bad decision. He now had Y50 of our money and we were barely across the border.
At the first barrier, he actually told us to slide down the seat while he got the driver to make the dash across when the barrier was lifted. What the…? We then noticed the screens were tinted and we learnt later, this taxi had no licence plate! He seemed to be smuggling us across the border.
At the actual border crossing, he again said he needed another Y20 to pay for something to the customs control. Really?????? OK, I informed him I would go with him to pay this Y20.
He lost his temper on me now and we sat in the taxi, quarrelling away. The taxi driver returned and said that his passport had just been impounded so our taxi couldn’t go across and we had to turn back. What kind of crooks was I dealing with??
Halfway back to the first barrier, I decided I had enough. I made the taxi driver stop and demanded that he open the car boot for us to retrieve our backpacks. This, he did without a word.
Now, I had to attempt to get back our Y50. I seriously didn’t think we would get it back, because the sleazeball already HAD the money.
He said I needed to pay him and the driver for the effort this morning. Fine, Y20. Now, give me back Y30!!!
Meanwhile, the driver yelled from his seat, “No. I want Y30. Y30!” Sleazeball took out two Y10 notes (and that was when I saw that he had a Y20 note in his pocket) and said, “Well, the driver wants Y30, not Y20.”
I took the money but I was determined to get another Y10 back. He got into the car and told the driver to drive off. I must have been crazy then. I hung onto the steering wheel and kept shouting, “Give me back Y10! Give me back Y10!”
Because I knew he had a Y20 note, I held out one of the Y10 notes in order to exchange with him.
After my half-crazed ranting, the driver actually gave up and said, “OK!! OK!! Y20!” and grabbed the Y10 note.
Now it was worse. Two guys in a car, ready to drive off. No witnesses nearby in this desert if they decided to kill us. And now, I only had Y10 in my hand.
To my surprise, the driver kept yelling at Sleazeball to return me the Y20 note. Sleazeball took it out grudgingly. He hesitated, fuming mad. The driver shouted, “Aiyah! Give it to her!!” Sleazeball made a grunt, rolled it into a ball angrily and slammed it into my outstretched hand and they drove off.
Hmmm…. well well well.
But the worst was not over, the border guards did not allow us to walk across. We must cross in a vehicle.
Let me explain about Mongolians who cross the border here. These Mongolians were obviously traders who had bought loads of stuff from China. They packed their huge bags and boxes of merchandise in the back of the van to the maximum. And then, they packed themselves in, like up to 15 people squeezed in a minivan that normally sat six.
So, all the vehicles that came by had parcels, bags, back-sides sticking out from the van-doors that couldn’t shut.
Goretti even waved to me when her van zipped by. Oh good, they made it across successfully. But Barbara and I couldn’t get a ride at all for three hours.
One guard told us to stand in the shade near their office in case we got heat stroke – it was 45�C. He said he was doing this because I was of Chinese race. If I was Mongolian, he said he would let me stand in the sun. Gee, thanks.
Finally, the main guy-in-charge called back to town for a van to be NOT SO FULL when it came over as there were two more live ones over here to be picked up. So, that was how we finally got a ride over but not before two more hours of waiting as it was now lunch time for the Chinese and Mongolian border guards.
We finally got to the train station at 3pm. The whole ordeal had lasted six hours. Barbara fainted soon after we bought train tickets for the 5pm train to Ulaan Baator. She had not eaten or drank anything in the past 30 hours at least, I suspected. She had refused all my earlier offers. I had been puzzled, thinking that perhaps she had a secret stash which she drank and ate from when I was not looking.
Also, in Beijing, she had actually headed straight to the bus station right after she got off her flight from the States. So, she was probably still suffering from jet-lag and now, the lack of food and water and the heat. Thank goodness, I was reunited with my Beijing hostel friends who could take care of her while I ran to find food and water.
The Mongolian local train was another culture shock. The Mongolians were pushers. I agree they had a lot of baggage with them during the mad scramble onto the train but during the ride, if you were walking in front of them, they would push from behind. You turn back, expecting an angry, impatient face. But, they were not even looking at you when they pushed. They just pushed.
The 13-hour ride only cost us US$4. Well, naturally, at this price, there was no bed-sheets or pillows, unlike the Chinese trains. On Chinese trains, whoever who sat with you at your cabin would be owners of the berths within the cabin. So, at most, you had six people in the same cabin. Here, everyone sat everywhere.
I had gone over to join Pablo, Goretti, Jus and Tina in the next wagon for card games and chit-chat. When I finally returned at 1am, my berth was taken up by a snoring Mongolian man.
I nudged him awake and told him to scram. But when I settled down to snooze, he did not scram far. He sat at the foot of my berth, by my feet. Oh, whatever… This was a different country now. Start adapting, I told myself.
It was fine if they sat at the edge of the seat while I slept. But I woke up in the middle of the night to find my legs trapped behind yet another fat Mongolian stranger who had leaned back to sleep. Where was his rightful place, I wondered? I wriggled my legs around, hoping he would get the hint. He patiently waited for me to stop wriggling before settling back to sleep again.
Throughout the night, sand seeped into my nose and ears. Welcome to Mongolia…
