“Piece of cake,” I foolishly thought when I booked my unconveniently timed (but cheap) flight to China. Sure the departure time in Amsterdam was late evening, the layover in Moscow was a bit longish and the arrival in Beijing at 3AM was maybe not all together convenient, but what the hell, this time I would manage to sleep on the plane and not arrive like a zombie, like I did when I flew to Hanoi, Vietnam. That time I departed early morning after a proper Irish session and (maybe?) three hours sleep, to board a flight that – including two layovers – lasted 36 hours. I can’t sleep on planes. No matter how tired I am, I just can’t fall asleep. I was worse than worse for wear when I arrived in Hanoi, it wasn’t pretty. But I lived.
Totally prepared
This time flight time was only 22 hours. This time I would figure out how to sleep on the plane and for a change I had even thought ahead and looked up the currency conversion rate and everything, so I wouldn’t need to stress about that on arrival. Totally prepared.
I had done my googling and all though I read that not all machines that look like ATM’s at Beijing International Airport spit out cash, it’s possible to find them so there’s no need to exchange money beforehand. Also, I’d read about all the taxi scams and was sure to stand and wait in the proper line and to not go with anyone approaching me as they’d charge me god knows what.
I arrived at Moscow airport very early morning and very tired. Dawn was just breaking.
The second leg of my flight from Moscow to Beijing was long. The plane was massive and the flight was only half full, so I had two chairs to myself. Despite the possibility to lie down somewhat, I still didn’t manage to get any sleep in, damnit. I entertained myself by watching Deadpool I & II instead and would nearly argue that that was the better choice anyway (#Deadpoollove).
Hello China
Then came the moment where I felt the ‘now I’m really arriving in China’ bubbles of excitement in my tummy as I filled out my arrival card on which the word foreigner was dubbed ‘alien’. On exiting the plane all ‘aliens’ were required to cue up at a finger print register machine that had no supervision nor cue system, so it was a busy mess and people cued up in whatever fashion they thought they could best get ahead. Walking out with my receipt I felt like doing a little victory dance. Then, after going through immigration, I was in China. And – bam – everything was suddenly in Chinese; there was not a word I could understand, not a sign I could read. Which is entirely obvious, because… well duh… China. But the unfamiliarity still hit me. I definitely wasn’t home anymore.
I’d been up for some 35 hours by now and I was tired, but told myself that I just had to stay focused for a little bit longer. I needed to find an ATM and then find the taxi queue. I would be able to relax in my hostel.
Finding an ATM dilemma
I walked to the first machine I saw that looked like an ATM and tried it. Only mandarin, no option for english language (not one that I could find anyway). I pushed a few buttons, but no luck. So I tried the next one. Same story.
I went over to a couple of security guards sitting down and asked them where I could find an ATM. Two girls in uniform looked at me and giggled, then pushed their male colleague to the front. “zài nǎ li shì jiǔ diàn?,” I very awkwardly tried. He hadn’t a clue what I was saying. (That was perhaps a good thing, as I had asked him for a hotel instead of an ATM I realized later). I held up my card and made a taking-money-out-of-the-machine motion. That worked. He walked with me and dropped me off at the same machine I had tried earlier that didn’t work. Yeah, but how was I going to explain that? So instead I asked another security guard, who dropped me off at the same machine again.
A little bit desperate I went on exploration myself and eventually found an ATM I could work, but a good forty five minutes had passed by now.
Taxi driver is a prick dilemma
The taxi cue wasn’t hard to find. It was 4.30 at night, but the line was long and moved slowly. There were no other foreigners in sight, which surprised me. (Where had all the other finger print takers scattered off to??) I had expected Beijing, being a massive capital city, to be buzzing with them. No one paid attention to me apart from a few men who walked around smoking cigarettes and asked me in english where my hotel was and to come with them. When I declined their offers multiple times most of them left me alone. One however, was persistent, and kept at me all the way throughout the cue.
And like in any normal taxi cue; when you’re first in line, you go with the next taxi that arrives. When the guy that was hassling me realized he was getting nowhere, he ran off to his taxi and calculatingly drove up as I was first in line. The line lady appointed me to him and ushered me out of the line. No way, I thought and I debated going back. But – afraid to have to cue up all over again – I decided to get into the cab and calmly asked him to turn the meter on, feeling both nervous and very annoyed. And who knew, the guy turned out to be a great chat and told me all about his wife and child while I watched the dark city of Beijing pass by outside. And it actually felt very comforting to have a normal conversation with someone.
But where is my hostel?
I felt the familiar twinge of excitement that comes with being on the brink of a new adventure and smiled. I began to feel guilty towards my taxi driver and apologized for being harsh with him earlier. But five minutes later my smile faded as he suddenly stopped the taxi in the middle of the road, pointed to a dark side alley where he told me I would find my hotel and asked me for at least triple the normal price for the ride. I argued with him, but he kept waving a little piece of paper that read ‘night tariffs’ under my nose.
And you know, I thought fuck it, I’m dead tired, I’m alone in a strange country and it’s the middle of the night. I can do without this. So I handed him a 50 euro note on top of the yuens I had taken out of the ATM earlier, took my bag and walked up to the dark alley (which was in fact an old hutong).
I walked into the hutong nervously. What if there was no hostel here? A little bit further along I breathed a sigh of relief – there she was. The night receptionist opened the door and gave me the keys to my room. I connected to the wifi to send my parents a message I had arrived safely – and crashed.
The next day I got up late – I hadn’t slept well – and ventured out to find myself another ATM, a simcard and something to eat. I saw no other foreigners that day, not even in the hostel and I felt quite alone in this big, strange, new world called China.
Getting a simcard dilemma
I was afraid to get lost in the zig zag of hutongs on my way to the bank and I was too afraid to sit down in one of the little street food diners I passed, all though the food smelled gorgeous and I was hungry. Sometimes a brave traveler, sometimes not at all! I did pick up the courage to walk into a little convenience store where I bought ready made noodles. I found the ATM without trouble but did indeed get lost on the way back to the hostel. But I decided not to stress it and took my camera out to take some pictures of my surroundings while trying to find my way.
My search for a simcard was in vain. For a good hour I walked around with a piece of paper with the word ‘simcard’ written on it in Mandarin, but the stores people on the street directed me towards, all refused to sell me one. I had my passport with me, but was told I need a Chinese ID to buy a simcard. It was evening by now and I made my way back to the hotel a little disheartened. Early morning I would get the 20h sleeper train from Beijing to Wudangshan, to my school. I suppose I would have to make do without internet for a while longer.
“No taxi, miss” dilemma
Back at my hotel the nice receptionist girl told me that it was not possible for a taxi to be called and I would have to flag one down on the street in the morning. ‘But in rush hour it’s very difficult to get a taxi,’ she warned me. Google confirmed this and added especially for foreigners. If only I had known how easy and meticulous Beijng’s metro system was… but at this stage I was tired and overwhelmed by all. I didn’t fancy dealing with the uncertainty of the flagging-a-taxi-down option and without a working simcard I wasn’t able to sign up for apps like Didi, so in the end I decided to walk the 9 kilometers to the train station.
I had only brought a relatively small backpack (10kg). It was doable. I stayed up well over midnight to download the offline map of Beijing in Maps.me (the wifi kept disconnecting) and in between I believe I may have had a little breakdown and cried to my friend on the phone ‘I wish I had stayed in Ireland…‘. But I hadn’t, so I set the alarm for 5AM and tried to get a few hours sleep.
Traversing Beijing by foot with a backpack (not a dilemma!)
5.20AM sharp I stood outside the hotel in the quiet darkness of the hutong and looked at the route on Maps.me. Would this really work? A couple of steps further and the hotel’s wifi would be out of reach. I half expected this offline map thing to fail. I disconnected my wifi and took a couple of nervous steps. The blue dot on the screen moved with me. No way. I walked further, my eyes glued to the screen, watching the blue dot keep track of me. Amazing.
Right. Phone at the ready in my right hand, I picked up my pace. I had given myself ample time to reach the train station, about two and a half hours, but I preferred to make a bit of a run for it. Imagine if the map would stop working half way through or the route would turn out to be faulty?
Walk through Beijing’s old inner city hutongs
And so it happened that I kind of missed out on one of the truly most special walks of my life. Setting off in Beijing inner city, the route took me zig zag through a maze of hutongs for a good half an hour. I walked as I watched my surroundings come to life while dawn broke and the sun rose, slowly and beautifully, painting the dark sky a pale blue. The early birds left their houses to make their way to work (I assumed) passing me by on foot or on rickety bikes and staring at the strange girl with the big backpack. Two woman playing badminton in the street shouted a cheerful “Hellooooooooooo!” at me as I smiled and dodged their low flying shuttle.
After the hutongs my surroundings changed into a more business shaped landscape, with newly painted flats and office buildings arising on both sides. The streets were busy now; buzzing with people in suits crossing them and fancy cars driving by. The morning sun beamed down on my face and I felt myself a curious spectator to this interesting, new world.
I was making good time and allowed myself a five minute break to take a sip of water and to give my shoulders a break from the load on my back. I was walking on a broad sidewalk now, paralel to a highway. According to my route this was the last stretch, going straight for a couple of kilometers until I would pretty much walk into the train station. I took off my jacket and stuffed it into my backpack, warmed up by the walk and the beautiful sunshine (in reality: sweating buckets). The closer I came to the station, the more people joined me. Many of them were carrying suitcases and backpacks too. After another street crossing this was the image that suddenly arose in front of me:
A happy arrival
The clock tower of Beijing West station. Whew. I was delighted and finally felt at ease to take out my camera and capture the moment. I had made it! And in good time too – I had an extra hour to spare. I would have had plenty of time to take a few pictures walking through the hutongs. I would’ve loved to show my mum. Next time, I thought. And I vowed to myself to walk this exact same route again the next time I would be in Beijing, but of course at a more leisurely pace, without stress and without heavy backpack.
Finding my way in the train station went very smoothly. I don’t know why, because I was still not able to properly communicate in any way, shape or form, but I suppose I had gotten used to my surroundings and felt more at ease. I found the right entrance straight away, went through ticket control, through security and spotted the waiting room with my train number on it instantly. After I bought a few goodies for on the train, I sat myself down, very tired, but oh so relaxed.
The train ride itself was great. I only had to sit and listen to music and do nothing – such luxury!! I had booked myself a soft sleeper and it was very comfortable. Finally I felt completely at peace. I had made it through my first 24 hours of culture shock combined with travel stress – from now on everything would be a piece of cake.
(Wudang Dragongate Kungfu School: “Errrr……woman, not to spoil your buzz but…”)
Header image by Yiran Ding