14/06/07 - It Looks Like Sun, Better Take An Umbrella

Summer has well and truly arrived here in Beijing and the umbrellas are out in force. This however has nothing to do with the fact that the summer months are the wettest months of the year. The relentless Sun is pushing the temperatures up into the late thirties almost every day, while Beijing’s hazy smog traps in the heat which gradually roasts the 14 million strong population. Thus, the umbrellas are being employed by the women to fend off the Sun’s damaging rays, which threaten to ruin their pasty complexions.

When I have pointed out the lack of rain to various females quivering under their umbrellas, they all reply with the same, rather un-PC response, “I don’t want to turn black!” In the West, a golden tan suggests a recent expensive holiday in the Caribbean or a weekend getaway on your yacht in Monaco, while in China, it is associated with a peasant’s lifestyle, working long days in the fields.

Therefore, while the Chinese scurry from one patch of shade to another, myself and mad dogs are left alone relishing the midday sun and doing our best to turn black, or more likely a lobster-like pink.

Train Ticket Acquisition

Last weekend, in order to escape the capital’s oppressive heat, I jumped on a train and head south to a place on the coast called Qingdao, which is famous for boats, beaches and beer. I say I “jumped on a train”; in actual fact, the ticket acquisition process couldn’t have been more confusing. I attempted to buy the tickets on my own from an agent in Daxing, however, when the assistant started to try and explain that Qingdao station is currently closed for refurbishment and I needed to go to another station, I was forced to get on the bat phone for assistance from a native speaker.

It was at this time that it became clear how random and completely unfair the ticketing system seems to be in China. On the first day I went to buy the tickets, they only had hard seats left, while the following day, a hard sleeper ticket had magically appeared, with the only possible explanation being a change in the direction of the wind.

Qingdao

In Chinese terms, Qingdao is a small place on Beijing’s doorstep; the sailing parts of next year’s “Beijing” Olympics are being held there. However in reality, its population is almost as big as London’s with 7 million inhabitants, and to get there by train takes between 8 and 10 hours from Beijing. Therefore as a rule, it is preferable to avoid the “hard seats” and splash out £15 on a “hard sleeper”, as unsurprisingly both live up to their names.

On my arrival in Qingdao at 7am in the morning, I rudely awoke my friend, Ben, who is teaching at a private school there, as I’d forgotten to ask for directions to his apartment. We decided to start my visit with a trip to a beach that Ben hadn’t been to before, however, we managed to get lost and ended up having to dodge JCBs as we walked aimlessly around a golf course building site.

An Expensive Beach Activity

After a long walk and a taxi ride, we eventually found the beach and to celebrate, I talked Ben into hiring a pedalo-style vehicle (or Fredalo for all you cricket fans) which consisted of three canoe-like buoys with two bicycles on top. It didn’t look overly stable, however, after some incomprehensible instructions from the owners, we set sail.

While onboard, a little boy kept on shouting further instructions at us but seeing as neither of us understood, we chose to discard them as unimportant. This proved a costly misjudgment when we later worked out the boy was telling us not to turn the vessel so the waves were approaching from behind. Therefore, when we decided to return to the beach by catching one of the largest waves, it was more than a little bit annoying when we found ourselves nose diving into the water and completely flipping the boat upside down.

We were drenched, as was Ben’s phone and my camera, which I’d taken to capture some action shots. By the time we returned to the beach, a small crowd had formed, all of whom seemed to have found the whole episode quite amusing, especially as we had been completely ignoring the instructions the owners and little boy had given us. We spent the rest of the afternoon scaring Chinese beach goers with out Neanderthal-like hairy chests as we dried off and confirming that electronics don’t actually work after being submerged in sea water.

Tsingtao Beer

Qingdao is home to China’s most famous beer, Tsingtao, a misspelling on a similar scale to when “Beijing” used to be spelt “Peking”. The brewery was built in 1903 when the Germans arrived and Kaiser Wilhelm decided the small fishing town would be suitable for his latest naval base. Barrels of beer can be found outside shops on most streets and a common custom is to fill up a carrier bag or two to cater for your afternoon’s drinking. Therefore, a healthy chunk of the weekend was taken up by investigation into whether the beer tasted better in its hometown than in Beijing.

Un-beer-related activities included a trip to a temple with practicing monks and a visit to the navy museum. These were good fun but passed without any interesting incidents.

Overnight Travel on a “Hard Seat”

Unfortunately, the end of the trip was also definitely its lowlight. I had been reassured by various sources that I would be able to upgrade my hard-seat ticket on the train for a hard-sleeper one for my return journey to Beijing. However, as I boarded the train at 8pm on Sunday evening, I found myself in a sea of Chinese people who were also trying to change their tickets. Sadly no upgrades were available, so I pushed my way through the crowds of people who had only managed to get standing tickets.

I wasn’t surprised to find someone in my seat but I managed to oust them without too much of a fight. I then began to wander how I was going to spend the following 10 hours (I’d manage to end up on a slow train) and whether there was any possible position which was even slightly comfortable. There wasn’t.

The first couple of hours passed fairly quickly as I entertained my half of the carriage by reciting every Chinese word I could think of. The rest of the journey wasn’t so fun as I attempted and failed to get any sleep, partly due to my “hard” seat and partly due to the rather big boned gentleman who was leaning on the headrest of my aisle chair and seemed to regard my head as a convenient armrest.

We arrived at Beijing train station at 6am on Monday morning and it has taken me most of the week to recover from the traumatic experience.

See also Lao Beijing Blog