Wuhan to Government House, Hong Kong
On the morning of the 24th November, I headed for the “breakfast alley” that had been described by another traveller; it is wise to make the most of a large city’s easily accessible breakfast food. I found some tasty rice cake from a dark stall and some sweet and chewy rice-flour doughnuts from a street vendor. Children were being welcomed at the local school by rousing communist music and a guard of yawning prefects at the gates. Many anxious parents (I assume- I like to think that is what they were) were watching their offspring playing in the yard through holes in the fence.
On the way out of the hostel, I was given some more fried doughnuts by the friendly management. My bike was looking ever more ragged- the sophisticated wires supporting the bar bag had snapped on entry into Wuhan, and had been replaced by an ingenious –if I may say so myself– looking lattice of shoelaces and parachute string. My clothes had not dried in time for my departure, so they were strapped onto the back of the bike for an adventurous air-dry. This didn’t matter due to the glorious sunshine: it was t-shirt weather, a huge relief after the freezing cold further north! Palm trees were everywhere by this stage, and the odd orange tree was appearing, with the corresponding orange sellers in the streets. The countryside in this area became much greener, and the leaves were still on the trees, rather like turning the calendar back to early autumn.
In Xianning that evening I found a trendy little hotel with the most beautiful receptionist yet. Arguing the price down to an acceptable level has never been so enjoyable. There were English language TV stations from Shanghai, which made a welcome break from CCTV 9, the only channel usually available. Pornography in China is totally banned –there are regular reports in the news on crackdowns on mobile phone operators who allow access to porn via handheld devices– however it is amusing to see a particular channel pushing the boundaries as far as possible with risqué coverage of underwear fashion shows. The coverage reminded me of the fat-bottomed sheep of Kyrgyzstan and Xinjiang province.
In Xianning, I noticed real 100% juice in the shops for the first time in China. The Chinese must have an aversion to its strong taste, as only “juice drink,” really a squash, is widespread. It was as expensive as in England, which may be the reason for the limited availability. Other gaping holes on the supermarket shelves in China are any sort of cereal or fresh milk, although preserved milk is available in little plastic pouches- slightly sweetened.
The following day, quite unexpectedly as the Chinese maps I have to use do not show any topography, I headed up into the lush green hills, and bamboo forests. There is much activity around this area with harvesting and transporting the bamboo, and I have started to see it used as scaffolding. Warm weather again made for pleasant cycling. I noticed an enormous fire engulfing a mountainside, but when I pointed this out to a villager she was uninterested. Perhaps this happens the whole time, maybe caused by the authorities for an unknown purpose.
I paused for lunch in a small town, surrounded as usual by curious faces. There were dozens of individual identical meat dishes cooking on a steamer, so given the opportunity to avoid another round of Chinese Menu Roulette, I ordered one of them with some mifan, steamed rice. Sometimes, it seems, as in any Casino, you can never really win because the odds are always stacked against the punter. Although the dishes looked like a sure bet, they consisted of one small piece of meat and many delicately arranged slices of pork fat. This wasn’t as bad as you may imagine, but I didn’t finish it. Later on, I stopped at a street side noodle seller to supplement my pork fat lunch. The MSG overloaded noodles weren’t bad, but I had attracted such an enormous crowd that I had to pack the noodles away for consumption after having left the town.
That evening, I stopped in the town of Tong Cheng, where I thought I would approach the largest 4* hotel in town just in case it turned out to be the bargain of the century. The price of a room was more than three times what I was prepared to pay, so I walked out in search for somewhere kinder on my people’s currency. The staff were fascinated by my trip, and so utterly shocked that I was about to walk out that they asked me what I was prepared to pay for a room. They accepted my offer of RMB 80, and I was shown in. The room was spacious, the shower good and I made some hot chocolate, and some hot walnut powder drink, and went out for supper.
The restaurant was wholly open to the elements, but there were burning bricks of charcoal underneath the table to warm diners. On my return, I was shocked to find my 4* hotel room to be crawling with cockroaches, particularly the bedside table. I immediately headed for reception where, with improvised sign language, I tried to politely explain that my room was infested (fingers daintily crawling all over the reception counter.) When they didn’t understand this, I asked for a piece of paper, and with my limited artistic skills, doodled a roach, complete with a smile. They still didn’t understand, and they didn’t have internet (Wikipedia cockroach definition would have been a good bet)- I had to keep going with these attempts for five or ten minutes until someone arrived who spoke a smattering of English. They kindly moved rooms, but were adamant that the unwelcome guests had gathered due to my failure to immediately wash up my cup after use. It was my fault that the hotel is infested!
This attitude was reflected in the phrasing of the “Service Directory” which contained the following rule: “Obey the management. The guest who breaks this provision should be subjected to be punished” – without fair trial?!
My first day in Hunan Province greeted me with heavy pollution, and terrible visibility. The road was very hilly, and terrible quality- I hadn’t had such poor quality in China. The miserable towns were strewn with rubbish. I had to take some detours through agricultural land as the road was impassable in places due to works. These towns were grey, lifeless, and didn’t have many restaurants. I was refused food at one stall, which made me furious. In these towns there appears to be a constant stream of fireworks and bangers released into the air- I can only imagine, to cheer people up. On this day I joined the G106, the road that would lead me all the way to Canton.
I stopped for the day in Ding Jiang, a nicer town with a lively market. I initially had trouble finding a hotel, but a very kind lady frying savoury doughnuts in the street left her mobile stall attended by a passer by to walk me to a hotel. I managed to find a map of Hunan province in this town, incredibly useful, and I asked the hotel receptionist to sound out the names of the major towns I will visit on my route, as I don’t understand the map’s Chinese characters. I found a tasty supper of aubergine cooked alongside a number of other individual dishes inside a giant steamer.
On arising the following morning, I was greeted by rain, and I brought the won ton soup and steamed buns I found in the market back to the room. The rain was so hard that I became wet despite my waterproofs. A hearty lunch of pork noodles warmed me up briefly. It is interesting to note that the kitchens in these restaurants are usually outside on the pavement, and there is no back room to the dining room.
After lunch, I became so cold due to the wet that my hands ceased to function properly, highly miserable. I stopped at a cycling shop where I planned to buy an all-encompassing poncho. I was invited behind the scenes to a bowl of warm water into which I dipped my hands, and a cup of tea. Relief! Gradually the movement came back. I then sat down at a small table with the shopkeepers to warm my legs- there was a burning piece of charcoal underneath, hidden by heavy rugs. I bought the poncho, which was heavy and cumbersome (it covered not only me, but also most of the bike!) but I was not prepared to take any more chances with the weather. They informed me that I had taken the wrong road, which meant that I didn’t manage to reach my goal of the day, and had to eventually stop in the small town of Jiao Xi at dusk.
A policeman showed me to a fairly grotty restaurant that had a room to the same standard. I had hoped for a warm shower, and heating, but there was no shower, a missing window pane, and a squat loo. I didn’t mind too much- it was merciful simply to have stopped. A knock on the door from the owner summoned me downstairs for supper. I was very kindly invited to eat with him and his friends. This was a family restaurant, and they were all fascinated in a gentle and charming way with me and my adventure. I was not charged for dinner.
The following morning, I asked the landlady if there were any breakfast going, and she prepared a large steaming saucepan of dumpling soup, which she shared with me. She didn’t want to charge me for it but I forced her to accept a fair amount. I probably should have accepted this free meal, because it was clear that she wanted to give me a present, and she produced an earthenware bottle of rice spirit that she insisted I take with me. In return I gave them some of the lapsang souchong tea bags I carried all the way from London. I exchanged email addressed with the son, and promised to send some photos when I get home. When I had checked into the place, I had not in any way anticipated such kindness and special treatment.
The day kicked off with a big climb up into the smoggy cloud, through dense dark green jungle-like terrain. I wore my poncho to protect my hands from the cold as my gloves were sodden, however this had the undesired effect of condensing my sweat and making my clothes damp. At the first town I bought a nice pair of knitted gloves, and I had a fan who followed me all round the city, and told me to head in the wrong direction, which lost me some time. More fireworks, and quite impressive ones too, being let off in the middle of the day. I think these may have been connected with the many weddings that are taking place across the region. This had clearly deemed an auspicious time to get married! In many cases there were white uniformed bands, and loud faux communist rocket launchers. Mercifully, the quality of the G106 improved, and the towns became less depressing.
At one town I paused for a moment to inspect the impressive market. I saw tables and tables of what looked just like small legs of mutton. On closer inspection, I noticed that the legs did not have trotters, but paws and then I saw (with an odd mixed emotion of horror and amusement) that the skinless little tails were also attached the legs. Sadly I was so absorbed that didn’t think to take a photograph.
The hotel I found that night in Liling ordered food to be brought in for me, which meant I didn’t have to go out again. Next morning, I sent Noel a happy birthday text, and he replied saying he had reached Shanghai. I was a bit jealous, as I still had a fair way to go, through some tough ground. I had some noodles in the street where a businessman was having his shoes shined while he slurped his noodles.
I arrived at Youxian, the town I had been aiming for at 3.30 pm, and I saw a sign, in effect throwing down the gauntlet as it announced 50km to Chaling with 2 hours of darkness left. Taking up the challenge, I pedalled as hard as I could for the next two hours, and arrived at Chaling, satisfyingly, with five minutes of daylight left.
After a breakfast of stuffed steamed buns and dumplings conveniently in the street outside the hotel (to the delight of the assembled crowds), the road once again led me into the hills, and the bamboo forests. The scenery was quintessentially chinese as the road undulated next to a wide, meandering dammed river with the old little working boats plying the calm waters, against a backdrop of soaring jungle hills.
For a moment, with failing light, I was afraid that I wouldn’t find lodgings at all, and there were no obvious camping spots. I was delighted when the village of Shiu Kou came into view, and I asked a fruit seller where I could stay. She pointed to the shabby restaurant behind. I sat for some time “chatting” to some over-excitable children worrying if the restaurant owners would ever show me to a room. At last, they provided a spartan room, a cement floor, no heating, and certainly no spring to the rock hard bed. This doesn’t bother me at all, as I now have my technique for these beds- the thick duvet is folded in half, and slept on, and my own down sleeping bag is used. My fleece makes a useful cover to the filthy pillow. For less than £2 you can’t really complain.
A fried egg crowned my bowl of breakfast noodles, a satisfying touch. The road climbed steeply, and fell steeply, and I was reminded of the Black Sea coast of northern Turkey. I had planned to do a quick 60km before having lunch in a town marked on the map, and heading on to try to hit my theoretical 100km target. The road however had other plans. It climbed up, and up and up and into the clouds, and kept on climbing. This was difficult to take, because I had no inkling at all that there would be a big climb- these Chinese maps are truly irritating! I passed the 17,000km mark during the day, which cheered me up for a short period. The clouds were making my clothes damp, and I was hungry, and thirsty. I used my purification tablets to gain some drinking water for the first time since Tajikistan, and used Turkish orange powder that I had been given by Mongol Ralliers in Tajikistan to make it palatable.
When I finally reached the summit, it was so late that it wasn’t worth going any further than the first town, Gu Dong. I had a look at an overpriced hotel room, and decided that I would try to find somewhere better, leaving my bike in the lobby. A kind onlooker (as usual, there were many!) understood that I was after a cheap hotel, and led me to a wonderful little place, clean, en suite (albeit hole-in-the-ground), with English language TV for a fraction of the price of the other place.
When I returned to my bike, I found that someone had stolen my trip computer, which was a real blow. This is the only time anyone has stolen something from me. The computer would have been utterly useless without the sensor, which makes it all the more irritating. Perhaps it will be put on someone’s mantlepiece- that’s all it is good for! I had a spare trip computer, and I had noted my distance for the day, but I was unsure whether the spare I had bought in Istanbul would work, so I went out to try to buy another. After a long time pedalling the streets, I found a bike shop, but they couldn’t understand what I was asking for, despite my best sign language attempts (I really can’t understand why they didn’t understand me!) and I was close to tears of frustration. I asked in a trendy looking sportswear shop thinking one of the young shop assistants might have a smattering of English. This was correct, but she only led me (and an enormous crowd) back to the same bicycle shop that had already told me to go away. I politely thanked the kind girl who had tried to help me, and cycled back towards the hotel, fierce with rage.
Some children were silently following me, and I tried to lose them by going down a small lane. They followed. I went down another, and they followed again, so I stopped, and turned back. They did the same. I was not in a friendly mood at all by this stage, and loudly implored them to “JUST F@~& OFF!” At which, they impersonated me parrot style, and actually- left me alone!
The lady at my hotel didn’t want me to take my bike into the hotel, but just leave it in the street. This was the first time someone in China had said this- my bike knows the interior to 4* hotel rooms! It was only when they realised that I genuinely was going to go to find somewhere else that they let me put it inside. This was the final frustration to a highly irritating day.
After this, the evening improved. I managed to get my spare cycle computer working, so the whole escapade into town had been totally pointless. At an internet cafe I learned that my mother had booked a flight to Hong Kong to some to see me before flying home together, which was very exciting news. I woke a sleeping fruit seller to buy an entire sugar cane to chew on in bed, and some persimmons. I recognised Marc Edwards, a CCTV presenter doing a travel programme on “Taiwan Province.” Wikipedia confirms my suspicions that he was at Radley with me and Durham.
Weather the following day was absolutely stunning, and there was still quite a bit of climbing to do, but nothing like yesterday. Very few of the villages had restaurants and I was quite cross when some old ladies laughed their heads off at me when I thought I had asked where I could eat!
The necessity to extend my visa had been stressing me out, and on arrival in Ru Cheng, I decided to get a bus to Shaoguan to apply for the extension. I missed the last bus, and was moping and feeling generally sorry for myself in the bus station when I was approached by a pretty 21 year old girl, Penny. She had spotted my in the street, and wanted to come over to say hi. Nothing boosts a chap’s spirits like such an encounter! She is a student, and is currently arranging a year abroad in Canada. After we had chatted for some time, I explained to her that I needed to find a cheap hotel for the night. She led me to a perfectly fine en suite bedroom for less than £2, and we arranged to go out for supper.
I thought that, being China, I could make an impact without having to spend too much money- I went to a shop and bought a couple of small bars of premium Dove chocolate, and handed her one. Choclate is costs more China than back home, so it is really quite expensive. She seemed pleasingly impressed, and she took me to eat some noodles. It was great to have some real Chinese company- I felt much less of an impostor walking the streets chatting to a Chinese girl. She is a fashion student, so she is always immaculately and stylishly dressed. People still stared, but it didn’t have the same effect. Let them stare! One child bore a facial expression of utter shock, as if he had seen a ghost. He pointed at me, point blank and ran inside to tell his parents. I told her this sort of thing happens the whole time, and she said in a matter of fact manner that it is because no travellers come to this place. A man said something to her in the street, and she giggled and said something friendly in return. I asked what he had said- “He said that I am nice,” she replied ordinarily, with a smile. I was ashamed that I had been so irritated when people had shouted at me from passing cars earlier in the day.
I asked if she wanted to go for a drink.
“Where?”
“A bar?”
“What is a bar?”
“It is a place where there is an area that sells alcohol, and you can sit there and drink it”
“We do not have bars”
“Where do you go if you want to have a drink with your friends?”
“We go to karaoke! Do you have karaoke in UK?”
“No”
“Then where do you go to sing?!”
In the end, she took me to her uncle’s house, where I met her cousin, and showed them both most of my photos on the computer. The house was surprisingly large, and really quite smart. They were particularly interested in the photos of Xinjiang and Gansu provinces. It is strange to think that I have seen more of their country than they have.
The cousin produced an enormous bag of food which he insisted I accept, including a huge bag of pastry biscuits, 40-something nestle wafer biscuits, Dove chocolate, instant coffee, chicken wings and chicken feet. I should have known. When it comes to generosity, you just can’t beat the Chinese, and you will always be put to shame by this.
After we had finished with the photos, it was about 11pm, and they decided it was time to go out for a meal. I had been used to going to bed at 8 or 9 o’clock, so I was astounded that a restaurant should still be open at this hour. We were led upstairs to a private room. I told my hosts that I didn’t realise that such rooms existed. He replied that if restaurants didn’t have private rooms, they wouldn’t have any business because Chinese people like to eat and talk very loudly! I couldn’t have agreed with him more! He ordered an exciting array of dishes- pigs’ ears, ducks’ feet, beef tongue, tofu, rice porridge, small snails, and steamed buns with condensed milk dipping sauce. Little plastic bags were provided to hold the base of the feet as you attack the other end. I asked Penny what you do with the bones (it is mostly bones)- do you crunch them up or do you spit them out? She replied that you can do either- it doesn’t matter. What is particularly fun about eating duck feet in a restaurant is that the sticky bones are spat out onto the fresh table cloth.
After supper, they dropped me back at my hotel, and made sure I was settled nicely into my room before leaving me. I was left utterly shellshocked by such unbelievable kindness. I told Penny I would call her again when I return to Ru Cheng after arranging my visa in Macau.
The following day I left my bike in the hotel, and made my way to Zhuhai by coach, the border town with Macau. I had been told I would be granted another extension in China, but as Rosie Wilkins promised to come and say hello, I elected to go a little further and see her at the same time as get the visa. Zhuhai was a bit of a shock- there appeared to be no cheap hotels anywhere. I asked a street cobbler if he knew where there was a cheap hotel, and he immediately led me to a room in a dreary block of flats. It all seemed a little dodgy, especially as they seemed very keen I am meticulous to lock the door, but it all worked out fine.
I was given special screening at the Macau border by the Chinese authorities, due to the numerous chinese visa extensions in my passport, and they carefully went through everything in my bag. They were particularly interested in my books, no doubt trying to prevent any politically sensitive information leaving China. If they knew I had been in Xinjiang, no doubt they would have been through all my thousands of photos.
Once in Macau, I had a great time with Rosie and Richard Whitall, exploring the old cobbled Portuguese streets and enjoying the baroque buildings (although there was Tarzan rage when the visa cost 5 times more than I had anticipated).
The following day, I made it across the border in time for a bus to Shaoguan, however I had to spend the night there because I had missed the last bus back to Ru Cheng and my bicycle. The first hotel I went to refused to let me stay after at length calling the police, and I had to go to another. The bus left at 7am, and there were so many suitcases and goods being transported that they took up the entire aisle; there was no room for bodily manoeuvre inside the bus and it was very uncomfortable for the two hour journey.
On returning to my bike, I changed clothes in the deserted hotel lobby, and phoned Penny who came to meet me for breakfast. She took me to a restaurant that specialises in Guanzhou noodles, noodles that are made from raw egg and steamed in a tray- halfway between an omelette and a noodle. During breakfast (or, rather, as I tucked into my second course) she stood up and said she wanted to go and buy me some chocolate. I tried to stop her, but she was very insistent; I hoped and thought she would buy a cheap bar of Chinese chocolate. She returned however with three bars of the most expensive Dove chocolate. To put this into perspective, this has higher economic value than a night in the hotel. It was an unbelievably generous gift, and I felt very bad to accept it, however I had no choice if I did not want to cause offence.
The journey for the day was largely a satisfying downward serpent of crossbacks, as I had a lot of height to lose before heading south into Guangdong. The smells that floated around reminded me of Summer- quite surreal such a short period of time after the arctic blizzards. At a roadside restaurant, I had a lovely dish of soft tofu, stuffed with pork, stir fried. The kind couple who ran the place gave me a huge plate seconds for free, which I genuinely couldn’t eat after the first course and all the rice I had wolfed down. They also gave me some sugar cane and a big bag of dried sweet potato as a present.
That evening, in Rei hua, I was led by some ladies to another extremely cheap hotel with an en suite bedroom. After a noodle supper, I snacked on stinky, and delicious durian fruit in bed.
After I returned from steamed bun and dumpling breakfast, my bicycle had decided to let off some steam...or at least a lot of air from the front tyre. This is always a frustrating start to a day when trying to get away early. The woman wanted me to fix it in the large area in the front of the open-air lobby, but blissfully she seeemed to understand my sign language that if I did it there I would have had an audience.
Annoyingly, the spectacular scenery of the area was veiled by low lying clouds. It was possible to make out the bottoms of the steep, thin craggy mountains that erupt vertically from the flat ground like thorns. I had briefly seen them from the window of the bus on the way to Macau.
That evening I walked out of the first hotel I went into because every room I inspected was swarming with mosquitoes. As I had paid in advance, the manager gave my money back as he seem to think this was fair enough, and directed me to another hotel. This time, the room was fine. It is funny in China how even the crummiest hotels give you a free comb and tooth brush, not that the comb comes in particularly useful on my dreads!
Fruit sellers decorated the streets with their enormous collections of bananas and oranges. I replenished my supplies, and returned to my room to fix my three holy inner tubes. The following morning, I breakfasted on steamed buns and dumplings, and liver soup which I left.
I started to notice that people now appear to be used to living in a more tropical climate. Sandals without socks are regularly seen now, despite it being December. I saw a couple of tramps who wore clothes and smiles that made them seem more Jamaican than Chinese. I made good ground, so that I could have a half day to explore Canton the next day. The hotel I stayed in that evening, in a small town, had the most ingenious bathroom. The washbasin plumbing emptied onto the floor, and this in turn drained into the hole-in-the-ground loo, flushing it. So when you wanted to flush the loo, you just turned the taps on in the basin! I went out for supper, and took the conseil du garcon, which meant three dishes arrived when I only wanted one. Dim sum was served for the first time as one of the courses- little parcels of rice pastry with chopped water chestnut inside. The noodles I had asked for were entirely saved for breakfast the following day, allowing for an early start.
I negotiated Canton rush hour the following morning- a mad dash of scooters and motorcycles. Arrival at Canton was a maze of junctions, barriers and flyovers, and it took me a long time to reach the Isle of Shamian where there is a youth hostel. A local Cantonese-speaking high school student with a smart bicycle very kindly led me there on his lunch hour.
Shamian is an island in the Pearl River, which used to be a European traders’ enclave; for long periods, it was the only place they were allowed to go in mainland China. There is a latent soothing colonial atmosphere on Shamian, where beautiful old buildings remain, there are many international restaurants, expats with pushchairs, and traffic is strictly regulated. Crossing the bridge into the rest of Canton is rather like crossing an invisible international frontier.
I headed for the nearby Qingping Chinese medicine market where I saw live snakes, scorpions, terapins and dried bugs among all sorts of other creepy looking stuff on sale for human consumption. The stalls were piled high with stock, and it was an extremely lively place. I didn’t see the caged dogs and cats that the guidebook had warned about, however I was shocked to see what could only have been tiger paws for sale, laid out on the street, on square pieces of cloth.
This is the first time I had seen such a market in China, and I gained the impression that this town was culturally very distinct from the rest of the country, and also from other places in Guangdong province. This is the third major language area I have now passed through in China (Uygur, Mandarin and Cantonese.) Despite the commercial frenzy, there was an underlying relaxed feeling to the air and people did not seem as manic as in other parts of China. This could have something to do with the sweltering heat that envelops this area of the continent, and warmth through the winter. The city sits just south of the Tropic of Cancer. There is a catholic church in the centre of Canton that could have been transplanted from a small French city, amid the lively chaos. The noticeboard outside sets out when the services in Cantonese, English and Mandarin will take place.
In the evening, I found a covered collection of food stalls by the side of a road in the central commercial district with a common seating area. I had a selection of Cantonese dumplings, followed by a ubiquitous set milk custard. I passed on the fried tarantula, cockroaches and millipede on a stick. The shops were all open late into the evening, with staff standing at the doors desperately trying to divert the pavement traffic into their establishments. One amusing tactic was to clap hands applause to the public, or to all clap in time.
The next morning, I tried my usual trick of taking breakfast in a major hotel, however I soon realised that in Canton the large hotels are charging western prices, so I went for a wander. I found a smart, but very lively restaurant, and was ushered upstairs. There were a couple of friendly looking 21 year old girls (Silvia and Fong) in the waiting area, so I asked them if I could get breakfast here. They said dim sum was the fare (hurrah!) and they would help me to negotiate the menu. As I was alone, I was seated on a table with a friendly couple of elderly ladies. They said I had to try some special tea, which was prepared in a ceremonious way- to my shock, the entire first pot was used to clean the teapot, and thimble sized cup, and thrown away. After this, Silvia approached me and said that they were waiting for some friends to join them, and they invited me to join them for breakfast. I hastily paid for the tea, and we were moved to a large table downstairs. Friends from both China and Malaysia arrived- all of whom were also students. I sat next to Fong (from Macau, who thought Macau was better off with the Portughese) and Wing, a journalism student. I asked her if they teach them what is not permitted to write under communist censorship, and she said no, “We just know.”
They ordered a feast of dim sum with all sorts of different types of steamed dumpling, rice cakes, chicken feet, and my favourite of all, a fried pastry stuffed with durian fruit. They taught me to wash my bowl and chopsticks with tea, and to pour the discarded fluid into a special container. Wing and Silvia then showed me how to say “thank you” in Chinese tea tradition: You tap your first and second fingers lightly on the table. This comes from when one of the emperors used to travel to other parts of the empire undercover in secret to check on things. Courtiers could not kowtow because this would give the game away, but instead they used this finger trick, a sort of kowtow of digits. They say that single people only use one finger.
Having finally finished breakfast, I was informed that Silvia was celebrating her achievement of a scholarship, therefore she was treating everyone to the meal. This made me feel quite bad, but there was nothing I could do. They all went off for karaoke (at 10.30am!), and I headed to my bicycle to begin the push for the Hong Kong border. The route out of Canton was difficult because no one seemed to know the way. I followed my compass and the river east. At last a couple of friendly cyclists led me to the correct road.
A flat tyre delayed me further, highly annoying, and there was rage when a street sweeper swept around me when I was fixing it and eating a sweet potato from a street seller, causing a huge billow of dust. For most of the day, the road was being resurfaced, therefore the temporary surface caused terrible dust, and there was an army of sweepers who seemed to cause more problems than they solved. I was pleased to get more thumbs-ups and friendly waves than the normal incredulous stares; I am unsure whether this approach is indicative of a shift in culture or if I just happened to cycle past a lot of friendly people.
The delays meant I had to cycle up until dark to make an acceptable distance and I
luckily found a basic but acceptable hotel for my last night in China. It was frustrating that people in this town pointed and stared at me shouting “lawai!” I would have had supper in a nice looking restaurant, but when I saw the reaction of the diners when I approached, I walked away very quickly, and ordered some egg fried rice from a street cook.
My final breakfast in China was Guangzhou noodles and pork congee, and the man sitting in the next table was trying to get his toddler to say “one two three four fixe six seven...” because I was there. They never made eye contact with me or said hello and I thought this was all very irritating.
The weather was absolutely glorious, and I had a shiver of excitement at the idea of getting to Hong Kong. I was brought back down to earth when I ran over a human turn that made two brown stripes in each tyre. In seething anger (where else in the world could this happen?!) I stopped to clean my wheel with some grass cuttings. It amused me that after 10 months, the same bottle of hygiene gel was still being used. I found a car wash that let me hose down my tyres for free.
The border into the Shenzhen Special Economic Zone was not even checked anymore; it reminded me of the borders between EU Shengen countries. On the brink of arriving in Hong Kong, I was utterly frustrated by people’s utter ignorance of the direction of Hong Kong, and there were absolutely no signs. It reminded me of trying to find Gibraltar from Spain when I was a child. One would have thought that in 12 years of Chinese “sovereignty” Hong Kong would be on the street signs. When I did find someone who spoke English, you can imagine my frustration, just as I was on the brink of finishing my journey when she said, “You want to cycle to Hong Kong?! It is really far! Take the train!” This reminded me of the man I had met on arriving into Tirana, Albania who said that we couldn’t have possible cycled from Montenegro that day as it is a thousand kilometres away!
I eventually followed the instructions of a sage seeming sugar cane seller, and found a border crossing. The last border crossing! En route, I met the Pacific Ocean expanding in front of me, an extraordinary feeling.
I had to wheel the bike through the pedestrian area rather than go with the vehicles which was a bit awkward, especially when filling out immigration and “I have no flu symptoms, I promise” forms. Others in the queue were sympathetic and friendly.
Hong Kong is absolutely terrified of flu, which is not surprising as they have had a lot of cases of various types of “killer flu” in recent years. A sign asked people to “maintain coughing manners” as one of the ways to fight the disease. The idea of appealing to people’s manners in China amused me.
Once through the border checks, and in a jubilant mood, I made for the road. I was immediately beckoned to stop by a policeman. He informed me that there was a bridge, and that this was a motorway therefore and if I attempted to cycle over it I would be arrested. Having cycled over every bridge and through every tunnel on the trip, I was convinced that I would be able to talk my way out of this one. I talked through the trip, and said that in China I had been allowed to cycle, or had been given a police escort. By now there was a crowd of police officers with “Hong Kong Police” written on the brass on their hats. The Hong Kong police crest looks more British than Chinese- the royal crest has been replaced by a bauhinia flower image (Hong Kong’s national flower and symbol) but it retains the feel of the crown crest.
“I am sorry, there is nothing that can be done. This is Hong Kong; this is not China. They do not have law. We have law. Our law is based on London Law. If you cycle on the motorway you will be arrested.” It was irritating, but refreshing to be in a free country ruled by law for the first time since, well, Greece, Turkey or Georgia, depending on where you draw the line. I asked if there was any other way rather than cross the bridge, and he replied with pride that I could try to walk round the beach, back into China and down the beach into Hong Kong, but then I would be picked up and arrested with all the other Chinese attempted immigrants, as happens every day.
They very kindly let me put the bike in one of their police vans rather than pay a taxi fee, and gave me a lift over the bridge, dropping me off on the other side. They were very friendly, and interested in if their police van was similar to police vans in the UK. I replied slightly tongue-in-cheek that I haven’t seen the inside of many police vans in the UK but this joke fell on deaf ears. They asked me if I was an Arsenal fan, and I replied that I prefer rugby and cricket to football. “Ah yes, rugby and cricket, very good!” they replied knowingly. How marvellous to be back in the real world! As they dropped me off they gave me directions, and suggested I buy a map. “Pteh! I need no map!” I thought to myself.
It was strange to be driving on the left again for the first time since Kent. Northern Hong Kong seems like suburban Britain with its little streets, British road markings and pedestrian crossings as well as the UK style number plates on the cars.
Cycling in the north western New Territories was easy, and there was a backdrop of the famous green mountains. I reverted to using “proper” cycling road rules! I met a couple who cycled with me for a period, showing me the right way. The road continued down to follow the coast. I asked a passing cyclist to take a “money shot” of me right in front of the Pacific, and I was excited to make out the skyscrapers of the city in the distance. I fixed the Union Flag that Rosie had brought out from London and given to me in Macau, to the stump that was once a wing mirror on my left handlebar, with a couple of cable ties.
After a while, I found myself in the Tseun Wan, which is still quite a long way out considering the hundreds of pedestrian crossings in Hong Kong that severely hinder progress. Tsuen Wan is very developed, and I mistakenly thought I was well down into Kowloon. After a lot of asking around for the Star Ferry, and a lot of frustration that no one seemed to know where it is, I found a couple of police who told me that realistically, my only option was to put my bike on the MTR (tube.) I explained to them that this was not an option, and they suggested I take the motorway. I asked if I would be arrested, and they said I would probably be OK. Clearly not all Hong Kong police are quite so zealous!
I found the motorway, lit my rear light and went for it- the traffic was dense and I cycled fast to get this highly unpleasant experience over as soon as possible. As I approached Kowloon, I spied a flashing light out of the corner of my eye. Thinking this was the police, I decided to come off at the next exit, a little early. It was however a recovery vehicle, but I was close enough to Tsim Sha Tsui (Star Ferry!) to get there on the normal roads, although this took some time.
On arrival at the ferry terminal, I wheeled my bike through the bee hive-like crowds and propped it against the glass fence of an observation pier to take some celebratory photographs. It was pitch dark by this stage, and the buildings over the other side of Victoria Harbour on Hong Kong were lit up in neon, standing tall like a very funky feng shui guard of honour. One bore large words “Hong Kong Welcomes You.”
The ferry that takes bicycles goes to Wan Chai, and I decided to find a hostel near there, in Causeway Bay and make the final push to Government House the following morning. I was stopped by a very pretty girl who wanted to pose for a photograph with me. I wondered to myself whether it will be difficult to come down from such celebrity status. I checked into the hostel I had stayed on my previous trip to Hong Kong. Arriving at a city that I know strangely adds a greater deal of satisfaction than arriving somewhere unknown. I have perspective; I know that the last time I was here it took 12 hours on a flight.
The following morning, the 13th December, I loaded up the bike with all the belongings that had safely brought me here from London for one last time. The Union Flag fluttered beautifully in the breeze as I followed the tram lines towards Central. Government House is located up the hill in the Mid Levels: what a time to discover that a gear cable had broken! I took a self timer photo at the exiting moment I found a tourist information sign to my final destination.
Unable to cycle the bike up the hill, I had to push it through the pavements, and up and down a number of flights of stairs. One flight was so steep that I had to detach all the panniers and carry them up first. At the top I was met by an English voice “Canny that, a Union Jack!”
At last I arrived at what looked like Government House (I had never been there before), and asked the policeman outside if it was; he confirmed that I had finished my journey. The final day had been four kilometres, but over the last 10 months and 9 days I had cycled 17,692 km. I told the policeman that I had just cycled here from Buckingham Palace, and that this was the end. He seemed fairly disinterested, but obligingly took a couple of victory photos. The Hong Kong Flag with its Bauhinia Flower crest was raised over Government House just as the Royal Standard had fluttered above Buckingham Palace back in March. Reaching my final destination was rather like arriving in Australia with a spade. If you keep digging it really is there; I am walking proof that if you jump on a bicycle in London and keep pedalling, you really do get to Hong Kong!
Over the months I had imagined what the feeling would be to complete the task I had set myself. Would I be overjoyed, sad, or relieved? The answer was that I was confused. It would take some time before the fact that my quest was over would consciously sink in. At that moment outside Government House I had all my kit inside my panniers and instead of stopping, I could just as easily have pedalled on. I said goodbye to Government House, and walked down the hill. At the bottom, I paused for a while, gazing up at the skyscrapers around Chater Garden. I felt dizzy as I contemplated all the places I had been, the people I had met and the friends made, who had nursed me, fed me, given me shelter, and helped me to get here.
The trip had taken me through: The UK, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, Austria, Italy, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro, Albania, Macedonia, Greece, Turkey, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, China, and Hong Kong.
The exhilaration of touring the world on a bicycle is well expressed in the lyrics of Walking in the Air, as I realised during my cycle in the evening through the chilly desert of eastern Xinjiang, waving at dumbstruck children. I moved slowly through their world, a world incomparable to mine but I was there long enough for them to wave at me and interact with me. Others simply went about their daily lives without noticing that a Chartered Accountant from England was cycling through their village en route to Hong Kong.
We're walking in the air
We're floating in the moonlit sky
The people far below are sleeping as we fly
I'm holding very tight
I'm riding in the midnight blue
I'm finding I can fly so high above with you
Far across the world
The villages go by like dreams
The rivers and the hills
The forests and the streams
Children gaze open mouth
Taken by surprise
Nobody down below believes their eyes
I was interrupted from my daze by John Sutherland, an English chap who recognised that I had just completed something large, and he invited me out for a celebration lunch. He had toured the world on a motorcycle, and knew something of the magic to be free on two wheels. As I tucked in to a hamburger, assuming its new status, the bicycle was wheeled into a hotel left luggage room.
