Beijing blues

Since getting back from Hong Kong I’ve been homesick. Blue, out of sorts, quiet; I can’t even hide this away gracefully and plough on – my face is a traitor and apparently it doesn’t matter how much I lie to myself, no-one’s fooled that I’m in anything approaching a good mood. 
Things just seem to keep going pear shaped, and i'm not just talking about my figure. Claire and I had planned on moving to a twin room, but MEIYOU - no money left this month. We'd planned on going to Qingdao with Kat and Rafer (German and Kiwi/Aussie crossover) this weekend, but MEIYOU - no train tickets. I'd planned on going running at least one morning this week, but MEIYOU - no sleep, no energy, no motivation.


I'm not sure what's happened to me - I've just lost my mojo. It's not like I'm missing my family, friends or anything about England any more than usual, I just can't cheer myself up. I feel like I'm sailing the ocean, I've just discovered my boat has turned into a collinder and the crew hasn't noticed yet. Water's unexpectedly coming in from all sides, and there's nothing for it but to admit that I'm about to get wet and I wasn't prepared for this eventuality. I mean, why would I be? Collinders are not sea-worthy and I am usually cheerful. 


My usual strategy to cope with this kind of thing would usually be to run until my legs give out, bury myself in fiction, or generally take myself out of the game until I've recovered my sense of perspective and/or humour. No such respite here. One very noticable thing about Beijing is that it's bloody full of people. 


I guess this is where I need to work on endurance. I'm coming up to the three month mark of my job and three months does tend to be my sameness threshold. Something's going to change soon because something has to. I'm not sure what yet. 


It's the Chinese Ching Ming Tomb-Sweeping Festival this coming weekend (hence meiyou zhan piao to Qingdao) when the Chinese remember the dead, honour their ancestors and sweep the tombs. Well. I had planned on honouring my ancestors (particularly the maternal ones) by going for a paddle in the sea, but I guess I'll have to take the high-road and remember it's "Mind over Matter" and to put on a smile and carry on regardless instead. You'll still get to Scotland before me though.


Having relations to look up to and all the good, sensible advice to live by that I've accrued from them is kind of a comfort when I'm in danger of getting stuck in my head and taking life too seriously. I daresay it's all part of my being British not wanting to either let standards slip nor let myself or any of my ancestors (living and dearly departed) down. Right now I might be sailing a collinder, but damnit, the Union Jack is flying from it and I will carry on bailing until the damn thing is a boat again. There are other weekends for paddling.

Hong Kong

I’ve got my blue dress, I’ve got my backpack, and … I’m out of Beijing! WOOHOOO!! I do love Beijing, but I’ve missed being warm, smelling flowers (did I not mention that Beijing plants plastic flowers over the winter? It’s weird) and seeing the sea. Oh, I have missed the sea. Armed with hastily gathered “what should I do in Hong Kong, I have to go this weekend!” tips from everyone I know, I hopped on the airport express and flew to Shenzhen on Sunday, crossing the border and arriving in time for seeing the Filipino maids of the city lounging around anywhere there was space on their afternoon off. Shenzhen Airlines, incidentally, don’t do the safety demonstration but they DO have a synchronised “thank you for flying with us” dance just before landing. The mind boggles.

So, Hong Kong is mental. It’s like someone hit London with a jungle. Hong Kong Island especially – Kowloon (where I’m sat writing) is more Chinese. I know everyone who likes Hong Kong likes it because you can have both China and England in one city, but the only thing it’s done for me is tinge everything with a hue of homesickness. It’s never been easier to live Dad’s “Remember you’re British” travel advice. Anyway. Since I only had three nights in the place I’ve been cramming in the sightseeing and absorbing the Hong Kong atmosphere. On Monday I dropped all my visa stuff off at the processing centre first thing, then (learning a mountain based lesson from Cape Town) I headed straight for the Peak because the weather was nice. The mountain lesson, by the way, is if it’s nice, you GO – you never, EVER, wait and assume the weather will be the same tomorrow. EVER.  



I got the tram up to the Peak, even though it’s super touristy it’s totally worth it. It’s so steep in places that it feels like the weirdest crank up to a roller coaster ever. The top of the Peak wasn’t what I was expecting, but the wifi in Starbucks meant I could text Mum from Skype like I did from Table Mountain. It’s always nice to follow in travelling traditions! Unfortunately I didn’t time my visit well enough to see sunset and all the lights, and I couldn’t be bothered with sitting round on top of a mountain (even one with a Haagen-Daaz café) to wait. I got the tram down again and wandered the streets of central, indulged myself with a browse of H&M and got a tram back along to Causeway Bay where my hostel was. After cleaning up and chilling out for a while, I hopped on the MTR (subway, metro, underground, whatever) along to the piers at Central to catch the Star Ferry across the water to Kowloon so I could go to the Temple Street night-market. I had a good wander around the market, got dazzled by neon and managed to avoid buying all manner of random tat, mostly because Hong Kong (on a Chinese wage) is horrendously expensive and I only had a small backpack. I wish it was because I know I have no need of or use for random tat, but I’m proud of my restraint anyhow.

In a very British fashion, the next day I went to the beach in the rain. I caught the bus to Repulse Bay on the south side of the island (6X if you’re interested, but you can catch the 6, 6A or 260 from Exchange Square in Central) which took about 45mins. I didn’t quite get the front seat, but 2^nd row isn’t bad for looking out the window and, fortunately, the tourists in front of me were pretty short so they weren’t too much in the way. Repulse Bay is so named because pirates were repulsed from there in 1848 (I think) – it’s claim to fame is a shrine at the South-East end of the beach and a “Longevity” bridge that claims to prolong your life by three days every time you cross it. There are also Baywatch-style lifeguard towers, a shark net and a 7-Eleven right over the road, but they’re not nearly so mystical.

I am my mother’s daughter so naturally I had a paddle, but I was the only one. Not quite as cold as the North Sea or the Channel, but pretty nippy nonetheless. It was a pretty miserable day weather-wise, so I hopped on another bus round to Stanley to check out their market. I was chilly and a bit cheesed off by this point (I’d been hoping for an afternoon sat on the beach) so I didn’t get anything except for a hugely disappointing lunch. I decided to call it quits on sightseeing then and got the bus back over to the north side. In the evening, I met up with my friends Will and Mark (from teaching) who live in Hong Kong now. They took me to see Lang Kwai Fung, Hong Kong’s equivalent of Bar Street, and even though it was Tuesday evening, we still managed to drink until the wee hours.

Wednesday morning I stumbled bleary eyed and cursing the evil pixie on my shoulder that thought tequila was a good idea last night to the visa office to collect my passport. I nursed a hangover, a sausage roll and an iced Hibiscus tea in Starbucks and wrote some postcards for the rest of the morning then headed over to Kowloon to have a mosey in daylight. I wasn’t in a museum mood, so I sat in the park for a while and listened to some kind of tropical bird that sounded like an climaxing swanny-whistle before embarking on the epic trip back to China.

(In fairness, the “epic” trip was a subway ride to the border then a taxi to Shenzhen airport. I’m such a traveller…)

Bikes in Beijing

Nine million bicycles in Beijing eh? Well, now there are nine million* and one – mine! The other weekend I decided that I’d had enough of not getting enough exercise and the smell of people on the subway, so I went on a bike buying mission. Armed with a copy of Time Out Beijing magazine, which had a helpful where to buy a second hand bike article, and my Beijing map I set out to find myself some wheels.

Guess where Boris got the idea from...

The internet was being temperamental at the hostel (yes, I still live in a hostel) before I left, so I for the first time in ages I was relying on following my nose and reading a map, rather than being prepared with directions in advance. I walked west along Gongrentilu to Zhangzizhonglu subway station, then explored north and south along Dongsi Beidajie looking for the place in Time Out. I’d never been to that bit of Beijing before (it’s north east of the Forbidden City, along Line 5 if that’s how you care to navigate) and the Chinese equivalent of an English high street. I wasn’t in any rush, so I strolled around a bit, munched on a sweet potato from a street vendor and had a coffee before looking for my intended emporium. I found it without too much trouble, and had a poke around. I don’t really know anything much about bikes – my tick list went something along the lines of two wheels, chain, breaks, saddle – so I avoided the rusty and (much more picturesque) second hand bikes inside and went to the guys outside, one of whom spoke some English and was insistent that he had the bike for me. Turns out, he did. Who am I to argue with fate? I’m not sure whether my bike had fallen off the back of a rickshaw or not, but it was clean, big enough for me and the price was right – mission accomplished.

My new ride has the required two wheels, chain, breaks, saddle… and a BASKET! I just need something to customise it a bit – spray paint? Stickers? Stuff for the basket? I haven’t decided yet – so it stands out more in bike parks and then it’ll be perfect. The second I handed over my cash, Beijing got a little bit more awesome. I called Claire once it was mine, she hired a hostel bike and we rendezvoused at Wangfujing, browsed a bookshop for a bit then rode home together. I haven’t looked back! I’ve ridden to work every day since, and I love it. (Incidentally, the ride to work takes about twenty five minutes pedalling at a relaxed pace. Beijing is flat as a pancake, so it’s an easy ride although somehow the way to work always feels slightly more uphill... psychological maybe?!)

It feels surprisingly safe cycling out here too. Beijing is well set up with cycle lanes, but traffic-wise, everything is relatively free and easy. As soon as you get your head round that, and deal with the fact that although motorists are happy to cut up cyclists there’s no malice in them – then cycling here is great. I was riding to work along the almost deserted canal road on Friday, behind a westerner wearing a helmet, reflective stuff and cycle-clips on his trousers who was gesturing in an insistently British fashion at the Chinese woman riding up our side of the road towards us. With my hair streaming behind me and not a reflective patch in sight, man, I feel like a Beijinger.

*inflation notwithstanding… there are more like 22million people in Beijing, so I’m going to take a punt at 12 million bicycles, at least.