The Power of Thumb – It’s Contagious!

7 of us ended hitching out of Shangri-la last Monday. 2 were headed South, and the rest of us North. I was quite looking forward to some good company. But it was only when I was checking out that I consulted a map and found out that my planned route cut straight through the Tibetan Autonomous Region. Foreign tourists can’t enter the Tibetan Autonomous Region at present – unless of course you have a guide and a permit and, as of two weeks ago, 4 other people from the same country. It’s harder than you may think finding 5 South Africans or Dutch (because I’m apparently also Dutch) people in China, let alone ones who plan to go to Tibet…

So although the streets were littered with hitchers, it was another lonely walk for me while the Chinese tourists roamed free… and the road to Litang had me off the highway heading down the dirtiest road yet.

There was a lot going through my mind as local construction trucks sprayed mud all over me and Teddy. Litang was still apparently out of bounds for us touristy types. Rumour has it that two monks had burned themselves and over 600 people had been arrested there just a few days earlier. I walked onwards half fearing that I’d spend a whole day hitching and walking just to be sent all the way back again.  I don’t like doubling back.

Whilst far away in worry land, a car pulled up and offered me a ride. My first Tibetan hitch. They only drove me 30 odd kilometers, but it was far enough to be committed to my path! I walked across the next village and carried on to nowhere in particular, joining some Tibetan ladies in a bit of chit chat on the run- I didn’t understand it at all, but it had to be good, I had them in stitches! And then started the accent. Things were getting steep!

2 trucks, a tractor, and several herds of wild horses later, a car flew by so fast that I actually fell off the road. It was either the elegance of my fall or a sense of deep routed guilt that made them double back and pick me up, either way, I was in.

They had mumbled something about not going to Litang so I figured I was only going a couple of villages down and kept my pack on my lap, not wanting to get too comfortable. It was only 4 hours later, when we were far from anything that even resembled a road that I started to ease in. The driver had a GPS (and a beer) and we were racing up mountains and around rivers and it was a mad quest to prove the capabilities of the car.

It was a wild ride over and around and through rocks and mountains and rivers and herds of yak and sheep and villagers and I felt a little guilty that I had nothing to offer in return; but once I showed them my altimeter I was in. I had them driving towards the biggest mountains they could find just so to reach the 5000m mark. We were just short (5m). But the scenery from way up there was phenomenal!

At some point I glanced at the full back of the truck and wondered if they were all out on a boys camping trip. To be honest I had no idea where I was and seeing as China has blocked the GPS function on my camera, even my compass doesn’t quite work properly – they could have been taking me anywhere!

Darkness was rapidly descending and by 9pm (sunset, that’s the beauty of having a massive country with only 1 time zone) we were still in the middle of somewhere. And then we climbed a mountain and on the other side was a road. A tarred road.

I flipped through my phrase book and found “Women xianzai dao nail le?” (where are we now?) ... “Shan-go-li-la” (Shangri-la) and then I flipped out a bit because I realized that we’d just been on an 11 hour joy ride. Which was nice, but…

By 11pm we were finally in some sort of actual civilization and I may have been wrong, but it wasn’t Shan-go-li-la so I looked perplexedly at my new found friends and they seemed to know what I was thinking “Shang-ho-liii-la something something something  bu (not) Yunnan” they said and I accepted and thanked them kindly and pondered off to find a more affordable hotel. It’s amazing how you can negotiate down from Y580 to Y90 for a room…

Tuesday bought with it even more confusion. Very picturesque confusion.  I had no idea where I was and my map didn’t list any other Shangri-la’s and nobody spoke English, or Mandarin for that matter and everything was written in Tibetan so nobody could even understand my hitching sign and although the village was beautifully paved, there didn’t appear to be any roads to anywhere in particular.

With all the Tibetan about I had to wonder if I’d illegally crossed into Tibet and had to wonder what the implications are for doing such. Even if I was now in Sichuan, I’d crossed illegally too… hmmm… It was going to be an interesting day!

The village was all run on generators, but somehow I found stray wifi and I tried google translate, but no – even google doesn’t do Tibetan! I tried to search for other Shangri-la’s  - but with all the internet blocks in China it was a failed mission! So I did what any of you might do, I picked up my pack and started walking asking any and every person for “Litang?” I walked and walked and found a road and walked some more and a couple of hours later a car finally passed and I got a ride to Doa Cheng. Doa Cheng is on the map.

From there it was a long wait until a mini bus driver offered me a “mianfei” (free) ride all the way to Litang.

Now despite being on the tourist trail (for some bizarre reason) – Litang is a hole of a city – it has no soul, no vibe, no nice hostels… I was greeted by a mob of cowboy hatted Tibetans trying to chase me into moldy guesthouses and I have low standards but really… I spent one night observing the caterpillar larva trade on the street, eating my worst Chinese food yet, and then listening to the dogs howl at the full moon till 6am. At first light I left. In the rain.

I was feeling quite sorry for myself as I walked up yet another hill with an umbrella and a poncho and a wet sign, but then I looked up and saw the snow capped hills surrounding me and I felt a lot happier about life.

15 minutes later Jeshu pulled up and I was off again. His snazzy car thermometer measured 1degree. He was great. We chatted about everything from the weather to work to “do you think that China’s present rural reform is making progress?” gotta love the ‘friends’ section of my phrasebook. And when we ran out of conversation he played some bad club anthem CD and he flashed the lights and we danced as we sped past hundreds of cyclists on a terribly muddy road. 200 km took a whole day.

Tagong was incredible. The hills were alive with prayer flags and monks. It was kind of like being in a sort of western – One dusty road in, one dustier road out – but yaks and short people instead of life size gangsters and big horses …

A beautiful Tibetan lady pointed me to the hostel and it greeted me with a dead horse and a viscious dog. I’d been bitten twice that week already, I’m starting to develop a slight phobia of rabid looking dogs. I almost ran away from the hostel owner who was trying to get me in and I’m quite glad I did because just down the road, under a beautiful rainbow I found a haven of niceness…Tagong won my heart and, because I’ve promised mum I’ll be in Chengdu by Friday the 15^th, four days of my life!     

Also if you're wondering why this blog post is black on white... i don't know... computers hate me. Deal with it.

The Power of Thumb

“May your child be born with a perforated anus…” yes, this is China [I’m pretty sure of it!] and even the profanities are arbitrary. And it’s confusing enough just traipsing through the country without throwing [the yet to be invented in these parts] hitch hiking into the equation – but if a life of bewilderment surrounds you, you may as well immerse yourself in it completely!

It was much harder to say goodbye to my little bicycle [Mao] than I’d anticipated; but it just felt right leaving him with an incredible South African family I met in Jing Hong (Yunnan). They’d had a fixed gear bike for the past 15 years and had just moved to the top of a hill… They needed it a lot more than I did! After days spent wandering, and absorbing the intricacies of the city; I finally decided what I’d be doing next and so, at 10-30 pm last Sunday, I wandered the jumbled streets and bought myself a brand new, bright orange backpack… I was all set for an early departure!

The transition to hitchhikeryness was not nearly as smooth as I’d imagined though. Hitch hiking literally does not exist in China! It took nearly an hour to explain [via google translate] to the poor receptionist at my hostel what I intended to do – but I walked away with a sign and a point in the right direction.

A bit further down the road my sign was added to and I was boarding a bus to the outskirts of the city. I must admit that it’s been a while since my last hitching and it took me some time to suss out the perfect spot and hand actions (the Asian ways are quite different to Western thumbing it). I held up my sign that said who knows what and proudly began the 2500+ km hitch to mum.

An hour in I’d created a few minor traffic jams and had caring civilians point me to the nearest bus station at least 5 times. The heavens opened up and I took shelter in a stranger’s garden. Another hour of failure bestowed itself upon me. It rained again. I questioned my mission. I looked longingly towards the bus terminal. I got a new sign.

And then some cyclists bought with them hope and smiles and while we conversed in Chinglish, a whole string of cars pulled up to find out what was going on… My luck was about to change. 

Cyclist number 1 ran off to find some new cardboard for a sign while cyclist number 2 educated the masses in the ways of alternative transport and then the police pulled up and I got my first ride…

My second ride came from a bus driver who read my new sign and welcomed me aboard – for free. And then talked another bus driver into giving me another free ride. 162 km from Jing Hong, I called it a day and checked myself into a middle of nowhere hotel.

I got an earlier start on the Tuesday with an altered sign that read something about “Lincang” (a reasonable distance to cover in a day) and something about “Dali.” My new backpack broke as I walked out the hotel, but I’ve stitched the shoulder strap back on to the best of my ability, and I’m hoping for the best! I walked up a mountain back to the highway and prayed I’d have better luck than the previous day. I did.

Two business men pulled up in a brand new Audi and off we zoomed at speeds faster than many planes fly. The scenery got better by the turn in the mountainous roads and I clung on so tight my knuckles turned white – My heart was racing so fast that I could hardly eat when they treated me to an immaculate lunch.

At Lincang they tried to drop me off – but I knew they were headed for Dali… it really is harder than it should be to try and explain your actual destination – but in retrospect, I should have seized the opportunity to find a safer ride, the worst of the MANY near death experiences were yet to come!

Dali was so incredible though that I’m not actually sure I survived the 562 km [In less than 5 hours] ride, I may have made it to Heaven: good food and quaint intricacies and an old town abuzz with wild music and the perfect amount of craziness!

I lugged myself away from Dali two days later and lucked out again getting a ride all 234 Km to Li Jiang with two friendly twenty somethings in a VW Polo. Man I wish I spoke Mandarin… there’s so much I could be asking, but car charades is just so limited!   

Li Jiang is a cultural experience you wouldn’t really expect to find in China. It’s constantly humming with millions of local tourists dressed in crazy clothing. People stumble from one ‘yak meat of the naxi sister’ shop to the next, stopping to buy pashminas and colourful leggings and an array of things one could never really use and then bar hopping between gangster rap and rock and acoustic sets and pole dancing and… well, it’s the kind of town you could get lost in for weeks. I spent three days doing just that – but mostly because I have no sense of orientation.

I left Li Jiang with a Mandarin-English dictionary and a shirt that reads “I don’t understand” (in Chinese) and because nobody understood me either, I ended up walking more than 12 km (stopping thrice to escape the torrential cloud breaks) to get out of town to an ideal hitch point.

Finally a car pulled up – but a couple of km down the road I began to suspect something amiss. I fumbled for my dictionary and pointed to the word ‘taxi’ – my suspicions were confirmed and I found myself back on the side of the road. In the rain.

A few minutes later I’d met a lovely family who drove me twenty odd kilometers to the next intersection where three business men took me in and drove me to the Tiger Leaping Gorge.

A final family drove me the last of the 204 Km to Shangri-la (or, as they say “Shan-go-li-la”) and the 7 year old besides me more than doubled my Mandarin abilities. I’m now able to speak the astounding total of at least 13 words… I’m practically fluent!

And that’s where I find myself right now, lost in a mountainous haven of spectaculousness and yaks.

1084 Km later I have renewed faith in hitching – even if I’ve just discovered that I can supposedly go no further North. “Why?” I asked. “You don’t know? Something happened. We cannot speak of it.” That’s the answer I’ve had thrice… Looks like there may be some interesting border runs ahead of me… Sichuan Province, here I come!

Is this China? – Tales of a Mekong Stowaway

Bang Bang Bang! Bang Bang Bang! [there was definite urgency in the bangage]. I flung the door open in my PJs to find an exasperated Mike standing there: “Let’s go!” “What? Where?...” I jumped in his car with disgraceful hair and disgracefuller morning breath and sped off to immigration.

I knew there was a chance I’d be hoping on a boat sometime on Monday, possibly… but it was meant to be afternoonly and the reality of all the maybes made me half suspect it would never happen… But there I was at 8am, stamped out of Thailand with about half an hour to make it to the port to board some sort of boat that would allegedly take me to somewhere in China for a yet to be discussed cost… There was no turning back now!

I threw my belongings into my saddle bags, did a facebook update so people could know where my bodily remains could be located [if it came to that], got on my bike and pedaled like the wind [on a particularly breezy day].

I made three wrong stops on route, but there before me lay my glorious timber boat – Fengshun 3. Mike and May-ee, who I’d met on Saturday while trying to organize the non-existent, allegedly impossible vessel, met me onboard. Mike speaks some English and Thai, May-ee speaks Thai and Mandarin and the crew speak ONLY Mandarin… Through the various interpretation channels my 800 yuan ($125) fee was negotiated, and the rules were laid down:

1)   Under no circumstances am I allowed to go to the front, the roof, or the captains sector of the ship.

2)   If they point to my room, I need to go there as quickly as possible and close the curtains.

3)   I am not allowed to disembark in Laos or Myanmar

Mike and May-ee

And that was it – not a lot of rules considering it’s currently illegal to take passengers up the Mekong and that my mere presence onboard made them far more likely to be targeted by Mekong pirates, of which there have been a lot lately!

   

I bid my translation duo farewell and settled into life as a semi-stowaway. There was no need to have hurried though – it took hours before we eventually departed.

With the Golden Triangle drifting further and further away, the scenery became increasingly awe-spaculous! I met the crew in bits and pieces, but with only charades to communicate with I couldn’t even get their names.

The shower slash toilet....

Meal times bought with them table-fulls of delicious foods and plenty awkward conversation [I assume] about the stranger in their midst! At dinner I was overloaded with rice wine (I think) as they “Gambei-ed” me in rounds trying to out drink me. They did. I was honoured to share a room with the cook – she won the love and appreciation of both my heart and my stomach!

The rest of the 7-person crew included one man manning the wheel, 2 men who sat at the front of the boat with bamboo sticks to check the depth of the water, one man in the boiler room, one man keeping watch, and at any given time - for no apparent reason - there was always one person doing laundry. Geraldine was the only one who had any time to spare, so I spent a lot of time babbling to her – but I tried not to get too attached, I feared she too may be joining the dinner table soon!

Geraldine

Monday evening had me chased to my room for the first time where I sat for a couple of hours with the curtains drawn shut while the world went by outside, Tuesday morning again. On Tuesday afternoon, after I’d finished washing my bike (yup – I had to at least pretend to look busy), we had military board our ship with guns… but the excitement was short lived and they too departed.

Being the dry season and heading up stream is no easy task. Every time we hit rapids or a sand bank (which was quite frequently), 2 of the crew would swim to shore with ropes and tie us to the closest country where an intricate uber pulley rig would slowly lug us forward to easier waters. The crew didn’t mess around.

One section of rapids we conquored

The engines fired up by 5-30 am each morning, and we docked at the very last light – around 8pm. By 10pm (latest), the generators were off and a world of moonless darkness with no light anywhere engulfed us. The others, having worked a 14.5 hour day would all drift straight to sleep, I would lie awake feeling the bugs crawl on me and having a few unwarranted reunions with ‘the rat’.

I’d heard that the trip could take anything from 2 days to a week, so from the second afternoon, any time I saw any sign of civilization my heart would start beating – “is that China?” – I lost track of how many times I asked that question– it sucks to not know, not that it would have made much of a difference I suppose, but I had to ration my coffee and…

Is this China???

Eventually, by afternoon the third, we definitely crossed into Chinese waters – there was no mistaking the flashing lights and massive “Border police” sign. I packed up all my belongings in anticipation, but it would still be hours before we reached the port.

I climbed down the stairs to find Geraldine tied up and stick man number 2 holding her by the neck with something shiny in his hands. I went straight upstairs – I couldn’t watch – she’d come so close to surviving…  Minutes later I watched her be placed on the roof, along with her cage – stick man motioned a “shhhh!” to me and I breathed a massive sigh of relief and broke into smiledom!

When we eventually did arrive, border control were very surprised to find me there and, after they excessively searched some of my luggage, I touched dry land for the first time in three days. Because all the forms were in Chinese, it took me 5 attempts to fill in my immigration card, but apart from that it was problem free. Far too easy even.

I had arrived in China unmurdered, un-shot-at and unrobed; and my little Chinese bicycle [and probably most of the other belongings] was home!

  

"Impossible!!"

SOoooooO I've done it... I've cycled to the border! My calves are bigger than ever, Teddy is dirtier than ever, I feel gypsier than ever,  but after those early days in Vietnam where I swore daily I'd be throwing my bike away, I can't believe I survived this far! My gears are absolutely destroyed to the point that it's impossible to pedal on anything more than a 30 degree incline [which really sucks because I'm finally fit enough to pedal uphill]  My chain is half oil, half mangled metal, my shocks are gone and my spokes are poking in every direction except the right ones. But I'm here! I'm finally here!

Best sign in the world

The 125 km ride from Fang to Chiang Rai was phenomenally picturesque and even though I had to push my bike uphill for 11 exceptionally steep killometers, and the road suddenly vanished in places, and the snakes were actually living this time, it was my best day of riding yet! And it sucked me into exploring the area's awesomenesses!

Worst sign in the world...

The white temple Chiang Rai - it even has pictures of spider man and the simpsons inside

There's something about going to bed at 6 am that starts you off a little shaken and when the roads are half dirt, half stone, half oncoming trucks on a single lane - riding is a little rough!!

Chiang Saen is great though - while trying to negotiate my way onto a cargo ship, I've met at least half of the town including immigration who assured me my quest was impossible, the customs officials who have great admiration for my Teddy bear but also tell me I'm not going anywhere; I've met the cops who led me to a travel agency specializing in Chinese travel ('Not possible" was their response), I've met the people who used to operate the now cancelled ferry ("too dangerous"), I've met many curios onlookers who just shook their heads and pretended to hold guns and then shook their heads again and I've met Mark.

It's amazing that after so much certainty that I have to cycle to Chiang Khong and take the ferry to Laos first, it takes only one person (Mark) to listen properly to your request and try and understand and it takes only about 24 phone calls, a few interpreters (Chinese, Thai and English) and before you know it you're probably boarding a ship that is probably leaving some time on Monday to somewhere in China. And that's just about more than I could have hoped for at this point.

Apparently today's Saturday which gives me just enough time to finish up Thailand with a few more massages and green curries and good coffees before jetting off into the unknown abyss that is China and it's perfect really - I'm the first person to ever stay at my just opened guesthouse that overlooks the Mekong river and Laos and Myanmar and well, life is pretty brilliant. For now at least; we'll see what Monday holds!

Willfully Delayed

I was dreading the return to the bike. More butt aching agony, and hopeless hills and I'd be back in the middle of nowhere where I'd be hanging out with snakes and rodents and smiley people with whom there'd be no understanding apart from hand actionings and happiness - every person [should] understands happiness!

Finally  leaving Dee Jai hostel, Chiang Mai - Not an easy thing to do 

A few technical issues on the way... the buckled wheel, the  unfixed seat, the chain that has decided it wants to be one with the gears.... 

But no. Four days into my quest for the border, I'm sat in a lovely garden coffee shop in Fang (Middle of nowhere, Northern Thailand) sipping my fourth cup of coffee; teaching the manager how to promote their hotel on the internet and gain many many other happy customers because this coffee is that good...

...When I set off on Saturday, I had every intention to cycle my manly legs off - but after checking into Mon and Kurt's in Chiang Dao, I found myself lingering in a hotspringed forrest mecca and decided to stay an extra day. I dragged myself out of there at dawn yesterday to cycle the beautifully challenging mountain ranges and, as chance would have it, bump into some friends with motorbikes who talked me into another days delay in Fang... waterfalls, hills, litchi plantations, more coffee...

Chang Dao Hotsprings

At the rate I'm going I'll never make it out before my visa expires, but I suppose it's all part of the fun really. Besides, I've already been to Thai prison [Longgggg story]... it's not all that bad....

Off to be shot at...

So it's official, I've become a lazy slob, Northern Thailand has sucked me in and hippyfied me. And two weeks later I'm till sitting here talking about leaving... I almost did today - almost - but... 

I was so sure I was over cycling for ever - so sure I was ditching the bike, so sure I'd be doing something new and meaningful (or at least easier) but I've just spent a lot of money (Almost $15) replacing tyres, repairing spokes, changing bearings and brake cables and buying a bell; and now I'm committed. It's me and Mao (the bike) to the border - hills and all!

I'm excited though (not quite enough to actually leave, but excited enough) - from here (Chiang Mai) it's a 5 day cycle to the border (Chiang Saen) where I shall hopefully board a boat and sail all the way into China. They've recently suspended the passenger ferry because of Bermese/ Chinese/ Loatian military shoot outs, but there are supposedly cargo ships that may [or may not] carry a maximum of two passengers for the 3 - 5 day float up the Mekong, all the way to Jinghong, the capital city of a Chinese province I've never heard of; and if I survive that (the internet seems to suggest I'm likely to be shot at and with my Thailand belly I'm an easy target) I'll be South East Asia free and in a whole new world where hot air balloons cost $10 000 (anyone want to sponsor??) and electric bicycles run free and donkey taxis exist (as a food source too) and anything is possible.

And I will leave - eventually - I have to... but not today... today I might find a hammock and a  fruit shake... maybe some chang... come to think of it, today's going to be to a tough one.