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A Little China Choo Choo

06 Aug

China train travel. Hmm, what’s that like? Well, that depends on where you are. From Zhuhai to Guangzhou—one city in Guangdong province to another—the train is brand new and the ride pristine.

Elsewhere I went….not so much.

These rides were the stereotype of Chinese train travel. And when I went to buy my ticket from Beijing down to Ruzhou in Henan province, I was in economy mode. So instead of buying a sleeper for the 13-hour overnight journey, I bought a seat.

Uh oh.

Beijing is the star. (Ruzhou, my destination, is just south of Luoyang.)

I was on my way to this small city, because just outside of it is a town called Ruyang. And just outside Ruyang lives a special, old woman who I’ll introduce you to next time.

First, though, I arrived at the train station on the evening of my last day here in Beijing:

Then, I had to see where to go:

Hmmm, let's see......

Soon, the time arrived for us to board, and a nice hoard of riders and luggage flowed toward the ticket-taker gate. Outside we went to board the train; inside we went into our car:

Oh boy...Where's everyone going to sit?

Oh, that’s right. They’re not–at least not on seats:

Sit tight, floor buddy.

It was around 8pm and I immediately began to dread the hours ahead when I’d be restless, tired, and unable to sleep in all this commotion. People were everywhere. One side of the aisle had sets of 2×2 seat-benches facing each other with a table top in the middle. To sleep, these riders could either try to lean back on the erect seats like an airplane. Or they could try to lean down on the table top, their arms or bags as pillows.

They were the lucky ones.

Cause the other side of the aisle had seat-groups of 3 and 3 facing each other. I got one of these, and on my particular bench, I was the monkey in the middle. Still, it was better than the aisle seat, because the table top on our side extended out only so far, leaving the this person with nothing to lean on to sleep. The 20-something guy in this predicament chose to kneel on the floor and lean against his seat as his head rest.

And we were the lucky ones…

Finally there were those in the car who had no seat. It’s better than not getting a ticket, but these poor folks either stood in the aisle, sat on their bags or on the floor, or picked up a makeshift stool that some lady was selling back at the station. (I saw her, too, and wondered what she was selling those things for.) Now I knew.

Looking around as I got comfortable, I met my fellow seat-group group:

These fellas were across from me.

So was this gal:

sleep-smiling :)

Sharing my bench were these fellas:

There were a lot of individual travelers around me. We each had our own destination and story. I inquired with them about their hometowns and such. Just about everyone had a different place they called home. “One China”, as they like to say, is quite true among the variety of peoples in China (with some ethnic exceptions), but even within this “One China” there’s a lot of differences to speak of.

One thing I’m always curious about is whether I can pinpoint a person’s province by their looks. That’s tough. Much more doable, though, is the difference between the south and the north—which I think is cool, because it challenges the idea of all Chinese looking alike.

Outside of our seating section, other travelers rode:

All through the night we journeyed with the intimacy of strangers. White noise hummed along with occasional knocking from the tracks. Our “dance” to this music was random, stuttering upper-body, back-and-forth sway-jerks. And if I can recall correctly, I think the car was lit up the whole time, too. No matter, I got exhausted and managed some sleep.

(And later, I’d have a sort of hindsight gratitude after hearing about the rough ride for a couple Austrian women. Their car was so crowded that passengers on the floor curled up at their feet, using the women’s back-packs as pillows.)

Finally, morning came:

"Zao sheng hao"

And at around 7:00, I arrived at Ruzhou train station:

Straight and to the left. That's where my ride was waiting. (But that's for next time.)

I talked earlier about the “lucky ones”, those who have better conditions than others on the train. But I’d say the lucky ones weren’t in this car at all. Folks in the sleeper cars were quite better off. (And hey, why stop there, right? Plenty opt out of trains altogether, for obvious reasons, and pay a few extra yuan for a plane ticket—where on this plain you have three more tiers of conditions.)

Here’s a peek at a sleeper car that I rode (I splurged) a bit later in my travels. It was fewer solo travelers and more families. Things were more spacious and, naturally, folks were well-rested. Things overall just seemed more chipper. It was a nice illustration that though money doesn’t make you happy, comfort sure helps.

Kids were playing some kind of 'paper, rock, scissor' singing game.

They got a kick out of me, an American. Some gave me seashells for gifts. Here’s one of the boys who was particularly adorable:

When in transport we have the chance to learn so much: the places people go, the stories they tell, the reasons for their travel. Americans, or course, love the automobile. In China, though, things are more public. And in a place that already is generally curious about Westerners, the train provides a fertile ground to nurture the interactions that make travel so special.

I look forward to next time when I get to share about an interaction that few people can have anymore.

to New Plateaus,

-Brandon

 
 

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  1. Hao Hao Report

    August 6, 2011 at 4:12 am

    Someone thinks this story is fantastic…

    This story was submitted to Hao Hao Report – a collection of China’s best stories and blog posts. If you like this story, be sure to go vote for it….

     
  2. Mark

    February 27, 2013 at 8:32 pm

    I thoroughly enjoyed your journey, except for the cooks they look quite dirty.