A Canadian in Beijing: Escape to Shanghai

by Ember Swift on

The overnight train to Shanghai was like an adult summer camp on wheels. Beds three bunks high and six to a cubicle with only about three feet between each stack and it was clear that we were going to make friends with whomever was nearby. And we did!

But first, I was shocked at the crowds at Beijing Zhan, the principal railway station in the city. When we emerged from the underground of the subway to catch our train, Sarah told me that the crowds weren’t that bad, actually, but I still snapped pictures anyway. I couldn’t believe the density of the front courtyard with people sitting or waiting or milling about with luggage and children in tow. The excited energy was bouncing off the mid-evening lights as we dodged rolling luggage and bicycles, families and travellers in circled, seated mounds that would suddenly nearly trip us in the middle of the courtyard.

We twisted and turned and tried to keep sight of each other as we scurried into the station. We were almost late for our train, actually, and arrived just five minutes before our departure time. I wasn’t worried, though. Somehow I knew that Shanghai was on my horizon for this weekend and I knew that the train wouldn’t leave without us on it.

I was right.

We stepped into railway car number six just in time and turned down a narrow corridor that was about four feet wide. I still hadn’t registered that this wasn’t just a transit passageway to the car we were riding on, but was actually the train car itself and where we would be stationed for the next thirteen hours. We walked about ten feet and then Sarah stopped me and motioned that we had arrived at our home for the night. I turned and saw our travelling home. These were called “hard sleepers,” which is a mid-grade ticket. We were packed in but still comfortable and it looked quite cozy.

Despite the narrowness of the corridor, especially when people are sitting there, the train employees still managed to push the skinniest carts I’ve ever seen down these passageways calling out what they were offering from noodles to soup to hot water to quick snacks and bottled beverages. I had brought a bag stuffed with vegan snacks (I’m learning quickly!) and so we didn’t need to order any food. We were set and ready.

Jenni, Sarah and I were positioned in three bunks one on top of the other about half-way up the car. The top and middle bunks aren’t as expensive as the lower bunks as it is only on the lower bunks that one has enough headroom to sit up. For that reason, most people sit on the lower bench all at once, if they know each other. Otherwise, there are small chairs and tiny tables that fold out in the corridor for when travellers aren’t sleeping. In our case, we just split the cost three ways so it was an equitable travel experience. We all sat together on the lower bunk until it was time to sleep.

We all took dibs on who was sleeping where and I landed in the middle bunk. The highest bunk is probably the most private, but the middle bunk isn’t too bad either. Each one came with a pillow and a warm duvet and mine actually had a wonderful view out the window.

(Sarah snapped this of me this morning as I was watching the Chinese countryside racing past me. It was in these exact moments that I was thinking how much I want to explore more of this country!)


At 10:30pm, the lights went out and we all took to our bunk positions. There were no individual lights for the cubicles, so there was nothing to do but to sleep. Tired from a week of hectic socializing, studying and overall Beijing exploration, I had no trouble falling asleep within minutes. I have always been able to sleep in moving vehicles. It must be all the touring we’ve done.

I woke only to go to the bathroom sometime in the middle of the night. I climbed down, put on my shoes (you can’t use the squatter without them!) and then found that all the restrooms were locked. I was told in rushed Chinese that they were about to stop and that no one could use the bathrooms. It took awhile before I understood that the bathrooms are locked when people get off the train or board the train. Perhaps for security reasons? I’m not sure. Ten minutes later, we were back on our way, they re-opened the facilities, I used the squatter, and then I went back to sleep. I slept soundly until 6:30am when talking from nearby cubicles and the bounce of the sunshine nudged me to consciousness in my suspended cocoon.

A few hours later we pulled into Shanghai and were greeted with “Welcome to Shanghai” signs all throughout the arrivals corridor. I was grinning and rested and emerged into the sunlight with my friends, a full heart…

And a full bladder.

I hadn’t been able to use the facilities while in the train because I waited too long and then discovered again that they had locked the doors just before arriving in Shanghai. While Sarah and Jenni stood in line to book another train ticket for the end of their journey next week, I sought out a public restroom facility and was amazed to find that it cost money to use! An attendant called me back when I entered and gestured that I was to throw my money into a large barrel-like opening. It cost 2 kuai. I reached into my pocket, found the money and obeyed. After all, I had to go! When I had thrown in my money, she handed me a tissue to use.

I considered it a tariff for the tree’s sacrifice.

I re-emerged onto the sidewalk to be reunited with my friends, relieved and believing that anything is possible –

Shanghai had welcomed me.

GADLING’S TAKE FIVE: Week of April 22

by Adrienne Wilson on

Time to catch up on some of what you may have missed over the week… Without delay let’s hop right to it!

5. Write for Wend:
Here is your chance to get your travel writing out there and into a new glossy. Don’t save all those adventure tales for the grandkids – write for Wend and share them with us all.

4. 24 Hours of Flickr:
This May 5th Flickr is calling all around the world to photograph their daily routine and submit one single great photo from the day for an event/project called 24 Hours of Flickr. While something like such has been done before, it is still awesome to participate in if you haven’t before and love the Flickr community.

3. Environmentalist Greats Tour:
Heal the world and make it a better place – Yes? Then why not head out on one of these mean-green-eco-machine type tours… Okay, they aren’t mean, but you get the picture.

2. Underwater Post Offices and Mailboxes Around the World:
I have a hard enough time finding a post office on land and I’m not one of the greatest swimmers, so going underwater to mail off a package isn’t quite my thing. For those who do love exploring the ocean fully clad in scuba gear and discovering new exotic creatures (like underwater mailboxes) please send me a little something when you’re down there. I’d appreciate it.

1. A Canadian In Beijing: Two-Wheeled Matrimony:
Ember doesn’t stop does she? In fact she recently found a bike to keep her going and going in the land where bicycles almost totally rule the road. See what’s happening in Beijing now that she has her first set of wheels.

Chinese Restaraunt Keeps 143-Year-Old Fire Burning

by Justin Glow on

Qianmen Quanjude, a 143-year-old roast duck restaurant in Beijing, China is closing for renovations, but its oven — said to be burning non-stop since opening day — will remain lit.

“[T]he restaurant has served 115,330,259 ducks in over 140 years of service,” according to China View. “It has hosted dinners for millions of people from all over the world, including former president of the United States George H. Bush, Japan’s former Prime Minister Toshiki Kaifu, former German Chancellor Helmut Kohl and Cuba’s President Fidel Castro.”

The ancient, still-burning embers will be removed from the oven and placed in a vessel that will remain on-site while the renovations take place. After completion, they will be moved back into the oven, and the restaurant service will continue for another few hundred years.

Perhaps we can get Ember Swift, Gadling’s resident Canadian-in-China, to investigate further. Ember?

[via Neatorama]

A Canadian in Beijing: Ticket Wicket Tricks

by Ember Swift on

This week is the labour holiday and everyone in China gets a week off. Well, that is, (as my friend Louise aptly pointed out), everyone except those in the travel industry. It seems as though the entire population of this country hops a train or a bus or a plane and disappears somewhere during this labour holiday week. So, thankfully, there are conductors and drivers and pilots still working!

When I realized that I’d have a week off school, I was surprised. I hadn’t planned to do any travel while in Beijing considering my study schedule, and I also hadn’t factored in a large budget for any out-of-town venturing save the short distance jaunt.

My friends Sarah and Jenni convinced me that I had to go to Shanghai four a fve-day weekend. It didn’t take much arm twisting. The train tickets aren’t that expensive and Jenni lives there and so we can stay in her apartment for free. I’d love to see another major Chinese city and I’d love to experience train travel in this country too, the latter being something I have been told is totally worth doing once (or twice, in my case!)

Getting train tickets proved to be quite an affair.

(The picture above shows the long line-ups at this train window later that evening.)

Last week, we went to a travel agent in Wudaokou to check into availability. Sarah had known this agent before and after some serious wrangling and partial translations over the telephone, we finally managed to find her office in this big corner office building on the main intersection of Wudaokou.

We still couldn’t figure out which floor she was on, though, despite my recently learned stock of travel phrases and vocabulary. I managed to pull out “luxing she” (travel agency) and we were directed up and down the elevator.

Finally, on the sixteenth floor, we ventured down the lonely and unclear hallway and found the “luxing she” office at the far end. Services in this building are hidden away and I found it to be a great contrast to services back home in store fronts with flashy signs and advertising to catch the attention of potential customers. And, all the floors look the same and so one obviously needs to know where one is going!

The travel agent was really sweet to us but after making some calls, told us there were definitely no seats available. She told us that we should call back early this week – the week of our departure – but she couldn’t guarantee tickets because of how many people were travelling for the labour holidays.

We were deflated and discouraged.

Trying to figure out the next course of action while walking towards some lunch, we discovered a small hole-in-the-wall train ticket wicket and asked the man behind the tiny square opening in the wall about tickets to Shanghai on the 27th of April. He told us that we should return on Monday at one in the afternoon and that tickets will be made available then.

Why? If they were available, then why couldn’t we just purchase them then? We were frustrated and confused.

A few phone calls later and one of Sarah’s friends tipped us off that here in China you are not permitted to purchase train tickets directly until it is, at most, five days before your departure time. The other option is to book more than a month in advance with a travel agent, but of course one pays extra for that premium service.

As we were planning to leave on Friday the 27th of April, Monday was the magic day for booking. The man behind the square was being straight with us. Okay then.

Furthermore, you can only purchase tickets from departure location while in your departure location. For example, Jenni (who normally lives in Shanghai) had to purchase my ticket for my return to Beijing, whereas we had to purchase Jenni’s ticket to Shanghai from Beijing. (She’s here now on business and will be going back with us on Friday night.)

So, Monday came around and we returned to the wicket window to find that the time we were supposed to return was now pushed until Tuesday. “Why?” I asked, but I didn’t understand the answer. I said: “But you told us to come back at this time on Monday and now you’re telling me something different.” I still didn’t understand his response but he was clear that nothing was available through him until Tuesday.

As our intended departure time was creeping closer, we were starting to think it wasn’t going to happen. “That’s okay,” I said. “Maybe it’s not meant to be?”

I think that fuelled Sarah’s determination to make it happen and so she took it upon herself to go down to the main Beijing train station (“Beijing Zhan”) in order to ask around. She went once and was turned away. She was told the same thing as we were told in Wudaokou. But, later that same day she returned.

It’s really her perseverance that got us tickets this weekend.

Jenni told Sarah on the phone that there is supposed to be a foreigner’s desk for ticket purchases at Beijing Zhan. While the lines stretched endlessly in the main section of the station (and she was already familiar with these!), Sarah started exploring other desks to see if she could find the foreigner’s ticket counter. She went upstairs to another level and saw that a similar ticket purchase area was nearly deserted. Only one counter was open and there was no one behind the desk.

In the hallway, she had passed a woman – the only person she saw there – and asked her about whether or not there was a foreigner’s desk at the station. The woman very curtly said “mei you” and walked away (“no, there isn’t” in Mandarin). Sarah now watched this same woman walk behind this large counter and station herself behind the only open wicket. The counter said “VIP” and there was no one in line.

Figuring it was worth another shot, she approached the woman again and asked if she could purchase three tickets to Shanghai for the 27th of April. The same woman who had just dismissed Sarah’s question in the hallway then just as curtly responded “keyi” (“yes, you can”) and processed the purchase for Sarah right then and there.

Sometimes the language and culture barrier makes simple things seem extremely confusing. But, hey no complaints.

I got an excited text from Sarah moments later telling me that she had been successful and that we all had tickets to Shanghai. A few days later, Jenni was able to purchase my return ticket as well. They’re continuing off to another destination by plane and I’ll be coming back to this city for the Midi Festival.

While we may not officially be “VIP,” we will be the “very intriguing people” on the overnight train to Shanghai on the 27th.

I can’t wait!

Beijing’s Trikes

by Willy Volk on

Ember’s post about bikes in Beijing interested me quite a bit. Consequently, when I stumbled on Mac Kane’s photo essay called Beijing Trikes, I was curious. Kane claims that despite numerous cars and plentiful traffic jams, Beijing has retained a strong connection to both the bicycle and the tricycle. Working the narrow alleys of the hutong districts where cars have a difficult time maneuvering, bikes and trikes are used for everything from hauling garbage, to taxi service, to serving as an impromptu shop.

When I lived in Zambia, no one ever cycled for pleasure — a bike was a tool, a means to an end. In Beijing, clearly, biking is not a leisure activity. As Kane points out, bicycles are for work.

Given their emphasis on functionality over looks, many bikes have been modified or custom built to fit the demands of its owner.

For more images of China’s trikes, check out the rest of Kane’s series.