27 January - Keelung, Taiwan – Xiamen, Fujian,
China - By Boat
The
Cosco Star was far more substantial than envisaged and resembled more a cargo
ship than a ferry. As a result, there weren’t many people on board. The
interior was quite luxurious, though. Cabins revealed six bunk beds in a cabin,
but I was the sole person in my quarters. The ship rolled wildly, and best to
stay put.
Reaching
Xiamen, China, was around 9h30 and provided an uncomplicated entry into China.
I changed my last Taiwanese money, drew a few more Chinese yuan and was excited
to see what the area held.
Xiamen came as a bit of a shock; the town was
massive, featuring high-rise buildings as far as the eye could see but scarcely
a dot on the map. The city was situated on an island with the same name in Fujian’s
province and connected to the mainland via a five-kilometre-long bridge. A
ferry ran to the nearby Gulang Yu island (the distance couldn’t have been more
than a few hundred metres). Still, the long ferry line made me give the trip a
miss and instead headed to the nearest hostel. Hard copies of anything,
including maps and guidebooks, were increasingly difficult to find, forcing me
to invest in a smartphone, finally. Much of the day was spent trying to set the
phone up and familiarise myself with my new toy.
Though the internet and Wi-Fi were available,
Facebook and other social networks were blocked. Skype worked, and one wasn’t
completely cut off from the outside world.
A stroll downtown revealed a bustling and
modern city sporting a large and modern department store on practically every
corner. Line-shops were selling all the latest gadgets and brand names; there
sure was no trace of the extreme poverty of three decades ago. The town was busy
but well organised and clean as a pin. Not even a tiny piece of paper could be
seen anywhere.
Albeit a coffee culture took root in China, they
remained a tea-drinking nation. Tea shops and tea houses abounded, and shops were
stocked with beautiful tea sets, mostly quite costly. It further appeared the
Chinese favour tiny teapots, barely large enough to hold half a cup of tea.
BaiJaiCun Hostel turned out pleasant, offering
comfortable rooms, dorms, and a cosy lounge area. It was located next to
Zhongshan Park, an old and well-established one where old men played card games
under large overhanging trees. One-child families strolled or took peddle-boats
on the canal. All in all, a delightful place to hang out.
The next day was spent exploring the city and
a relief to find, amidst the concrete jungle, a real China, a place where
people carried their wares in baskets dangling from the ends of bamboo poles. Shopkeepers
sat on pavements outside shops, sipping tea from delicate china.
Wandering about, one could find the strangest
things; one being a market selling what looked like bits and pieces from almost
every endangered species worldwide. Gosh, there were even things resembling rhino
horn - maybe it was.
I found myself firmly entrenched in the land
of chopsticks and tea, both sold in abundance at markets. I hoped my
proficiency with the chopsticks would improve. Being a port city, the fish
market was another interesting place, where virtually each sea creature imaginable
was on sale. A favourite appeared sandworm jelly. Sandworms were boiled into a
jelly mould said rich in collagen. But, wrinkly as I was, I gave the jelly a
miss.
29 January - Xiamen – Zhangzhou, Fujian - 90
km
What a frustrating day it turned out in this new
country. My late departure was due to the assumption the ride would be a short
and easy cycle to Zhangzhou. Regrettably, most of the routes tried prohibited bicycles.
So it took the best part of the day hunting for alternative ways.
Riding into big and bustling, Zhangzhou was in
darkness but, luckily, it sported budget lodging right in the centre. However,
frustration in finding routes made me vow to buy a GPS. By the time the panniers
were offloaded, a lack of food made me scurry to the nearest food stalls, and
on my return, I curled up in front of the TV.
30 January - Zhangzhou – Yunxian - 101 km
The next day was much better as Zhangzhou was
on the G324 and best to stay on it. Everything was a tad larger than life in
China. The G324 was considered a small road and allowed bicycles. However, it still
had three lanes in both directions and was excellent.
Even in a mountainous area, the gradient and
biking were a pleasure. The weather played along, and the day became a T-shirt and
shorts day. Chinese New Year was being celebrated and a noisy affair. The route
led past firecracker shooting villages, vast tea plantations and tea houses. Finally,
a large mountain came into view with approximately 30 kilometres to go to
Yunxian. Still, the Chinese took no prisoners and dug a tunnel if there was a
mountain. I was pretty happy about that.
Yunxian had a hotel right in the centre of
town, next to the park, which in hindsight, wasn’t the best location. Being Chinese
New Year’s Eve, fireworks started as soon as the clock struck midnight, and continued
throughout the night. The fireworks of choice weren’t the shoot-in-the-sky-type
crackers but the machine-gun-type, which one could buy in big rolls, closely
resembling machine gun ammo. You only needed to light the first one, which then
sets off the whole caboodle - bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, it went all night. I
understood it’s a traditional practice to make as much “din” as possible to
chase off evil spirits.
31 January - Yunxian – Chaozhou, Guangdong -
122 km
On leaving, the morning mist was lying low
over the city. The streets were eerily quiet and covered in red paper from the
nightly firecrackers. Even the usual breakfast establishments were still firmly
shut. This was because Chinese New Year was celebrated over 16 days and the
first day of the new year was a time to honour one’s elders. Hence, families
visited their extended family’s oldest and most senior members. Therefore, the
road was quiet and the ride turned out to be a good day of pedalling as the
weather was excellent and the route flat.
With the hazy weather, the landscape was typical
of old pictures of China featuring misty mountains in the background. There was
much rubber-necking, and I feared them dislocating their necks the way they
spun around to gaze at the foreigner. Later that same day, a chap pulled up and
informed me he’d never seen a foreign woman cycling in China, hahaha.
The good conditions made pushing on to
Chaozhou, but finding accommodation was a different cup of tea and took almost as
long as the day’s ride. As expected, all reasonably priced places were full over
New Year. Unfortunately, the most inexpensive hotels only cater to Chinese citizens.
In the end, little option remained but to settle for a pricier abode as it was becoming
dark and searching to find accommodation one of my pet hates.
Good use was made of the luxury room and all that
was available. A walk downtown revealed dumplings and beer. With my bounty
bagged, I returned to my digs for a hot and strong shower.
Each culture has its own idea of a bed and
what it should constitute. In China, the beds were rock hard, and seemingly the
fancier the hotel, the harder the bed. The bed was so hard my hip went numb,
and I contemplated getting out my sleeping map.
1 February - Chaozhou
Early morning, less expensive digs were discovered
at an inn in an old building down one of the alleys. At the fancy Chaozhou, I giggled
as; apparently, the staff didn’t know what to do with a person on a bicycle.
The porter looked awkward (although keen) trying to help pack the bike.
Chaozhou was a historical and cultural city well known for its ancient temples.
The remainder of the day was spent discovering its many attractions.
Taking the lack of Western tourists, feeling
like the main attraction (other than Chaozhou’s ancient temples) didn’t come as
a surprise. Nonetheless, I braved both the crowds and stares and began investigating
the alleys and temples of old Chaozhou. The effort was well rewarded as the
buildings dated to the Silk Route days. Most remarkable was the Guangi Bridge,
originally a 12th-century pontoon bridge. Even though the current bridge was from
a much later era, it remained a pretty sight. Not quite the bridge over the
River Kwai but interesting, nevertheless. A large section of the old city wall
and its gates were still intact.
Paifang Jie (Street of Arches) featured an abundance
of street food and thus the place to head when hungry. Moon cakes were
plentiful and immensely popular, but I hadn’t yet developed a taste for those
strange cakes. It was a relief to discover the western version of Chinese food
or western-style fortune cookies didn’t exist in China.
To me, China was a land of contradictions. All
things were off the scale massive, yet, they drank tea out of kiddie’s tea sets.
They were conservative yet modern. Construction occurred at a tremendous rate; still,
an old world prevailed, featuring narrow lanes where residents still used
pedicabs (albeit electric-assisted).
China’s one-child policy also seemed a bit of
a myth and not uncommon to see people with more than one child. Campaigns
encouraged people only to have one child, but many had more than one. I was only
told one child received free benefits. Parents had to pay for the other
children’s education, healthcare, etc. and this arrangement somehow seemed fair
to me. Nevertheless, a person from a one-child family could legally have two
children who received free benefits. Families from minority groups could’ve
more than one child, but those employed by the government were only allowed one
child. I tip my hat to the Chinese as they are the only country where
politicians must lead by example.
2 February - Chaozhou
Chaozhou was immensely touristy, and rightly
so, as the town had a fascinating history dating to the Maritime Silk Route
trade era. Chaozhou was most famous for its opera, a traditional art form
dating over 500 years and based on folk dances and ballads. Clowns and females
were the most distinctive characters in a Chaozhou opera. Fan-playing and
acrobatic skills were more prominent than in other types of performances. I didn’t
see a show but discovered a tiny shop that made gowns, headdresses, etc., for
the operatic stage.
Gongfu tea, first drank in the Song Dynasty,
was still in high demand and remained an essential part of Chaozhou’s social
life. Teahouses played Chaozhou music which included string instruments, gongs
and drums, all very soothing.
3 February - Chaozhou – Cheonan - 93 km
Again, the weather was excellent, maybe
winter was over, or perhaps it was only a warm spell, but I wasn’t complaining.
My route still followed the G324, which ran through built-up areas much of the
day. The ride wasn’t scenic, but the area wasn’t mountainous either. I only
once attempted an alternative route but ended up going around in circles. I
thought better of it and stayed on the G324 until I found a GPS.
China’s development was mind-boggling, but it
seemed to enhance the experience when finding “Old China”. However, these finds
weren’t around every corner. One had to look carefully, but you could still see
pedicabs carting people to and from markets at a pittance. However, the food was
reason enough to encourage anyone to visit China. The veggies were fresh, crisp
and tasty, and the food included dim sum, noodles, dumplings, wonton soup and
more. By evening the bicycle was hardly offloaded, and I hurried to the nearest
food vendor - best not to ask what was inside - the food was delicious, and that
was all that counted.
The 7 Days Inn impressed with its quality of
finishes; pity the Wi-Fi was less than acceptable. At least, the connection allowed
uploading a photo to my Photo of the Day project, but then died.
4 February - Cheonan – Lufeng, Guangdong -
111 km
The route to Lufeng wasn’t exactly picturesque,
as the first part of the ride ran through a built-up area. The countryside wasn’t
much better as the fog hung low and one could scarcely see anything.
The Chinese were quite friendly, and those
who could speak English usually stopped to chat. A friendly guy on a scooter
pulled up and we chatted a while. I enquired regarding a map of Guangdong
Province and he said to follow him. We located a map at a bookshop, which he
paid - how kind of him.
On arriving in Lugeng, the road passed an
inexpensive-looking place and I decided to stay. Each room (even budget ones) came
with a complimentary sealed comb, toothbrush, toothpaste and shower cap.
This day marked the fifth day of the Lunar
Festival or Chinese New Year and, officially, the end of winter and the first
day of spring, and tradition to eat spring rolls on that day. The day further revealed
a few taboos: no sweeping the floor and no scissors. People were shooting
firecrackers this time to scare away poverty. Still, I assumed the noise enough
to scare away poverty and wealth. The news revealed that 108 million people
travelled by train during the first week of the holidays. I was happy in a very
un-touristy part of China.
5 February - Lufeng – Huidong, Guangdong -
135 km
I woke to a drizzle, but the weather wasn’t
cold, and the cold front brought a tailwind. With that in my favour, I pushed
on and made the best of the good conditions. Nothing much came of the rain, and,
by midday, the rain jacket came off.
My route ran past vast fields of strawberries
where one could pick your own. I didn’t pick any but did stop to take a photo
or two. The traffic was irritating as vehicles drove on the wrong side of the
road or turned without looking or warning. The random hooting served no purpose
and defeated the object.
The sixth day of the New Year was sending
away the poverty ghost. As a result, people discarded old clothes and rubbish
and, at roadside shrines, lit candles to lighten the road for the ghost of
poverty.
At the first hotel in Huidong, the
receptionist ignored me. The Chinese seem to do that. When they don’t like a
situation they ignore it, hoping it will disappear. It worked, as I went to the
hotel next door. At a reception desk, one would think it fairly obvious what a
person was there for. A limited number of questions and answers should conclude
the deal. Theoretically, it should be easy. Besides that, the phrase “I want a
single room. How much is the room per person per night?” was written down and
all they had to do was read it. The poor people got so flabbergasted that they
couldn’t even read their language. At least when it came to food, one could
point to what you wanted.
6 February - Huidong – Zengcheng - 120 km
According to legend, Nüwa was the goddess who
created the world. On the seventh day after creating the world, Nüwa created
human beings from (obviously) yellow clay. On that day, with the divine power
entrusted to her, Nüwa made the clay figurines come to life (I always surmised God
was a woman). The seventh day of New Year, therefore, celebrated the event.
Maybe this was an event celebrated at home as
the road was dead quiet. As soon as someone could speak English, they would ask:
“Why are you travelling alone?” I was subsequently informed that for the
average Chinese person travelling alone to a foreign country was the most unsettling
and terrifying experience they could imagine.
China was developing at a head-spinning rate,
but the ever-present water features, gave even built-up areas a peaceful vibe. My
hotel, hence, featured a massive water feature. Water in front and mountains
behind was one of the most positive feng shui layouts and what feng shui masters
have always sought. Therefore, most buildings, especially hotels, had water
fountains or koi ponds at the entrance.
7–10 February - Zengcheng – Guangzhou,
Guangdong – 80 km
On departing, the route led past the city
park, a large and impressive one and the greenery took the sting out of the
concrete jungle. Even though new and significant developments were taking place
everywhere, these developments included plenty of parks, large and spacious
pavements and separate bicycle/motorbike lanes, making these new megacities
bearable.
The path west continued over the hills and
past rural settlements until Guangzhou arrived. Guangzhou, known historically
as Canton (from the Canton Trade Fair), was the capital and largest city in
Guangdong province. Situated along the Pearl River, the town had a pretty
setting. It was the third largest city in China with a population of 12.78
million.
It took forever to cycle to the hostel. I
stuck to the Inner Ring Road like glue, hoping the road would eventually spit
me out close to the hostel. On reaching the intersection which turned off the
Ring Road to cross the river, I didn’t find a bridge as expected. Still, a ferry
carted citizens and bicycles across at a Yuan. I followed suit and uncovered
the ferry dock on the other side, right at the hostel door. How lucky was that?
The hostel had a pretty setting on the Pearl River, the third-longest river in
China, measuring more than 2,000 kilometres.
While unpacking, the weather came in, and I considered
it a luxury curling up under a fluffy duvet.
I went from shorts and T-shirt to all bundled
up overnight. The cold front brought freezing weather, howling wind and
bucketing rain. Happy as the proverbial pig, I watch this dreadful weather
through the window.
With time on my hands, I took the plunge and
ordered a Garmin, which meant staying in Guangdong for the next few days until
it arrived. The delivery time was a mystery, but the weather was miserable and
waiting not a big deal.
A break in the weather allowed exploring this
delightfully different country. Old yet modern, conservative but up to the
minute, frantically busy yet peaceful. I dawdled around this vast city which
was downright placid and beautiful in the absence of the masses, whom all
seemed to have gone home to their families for the holidays.
This normally atheist nation appeared incredibly
open to the “opium of the masses”. Religious stats is a tad of a slippery fish.
Still, approximately 30% of the adult population followed Buddhist, Taoist,
Christian, Islam or other beliefs and the remaining 70% considered themselves atheist.
It must’ve been a highly active 30% as a temple appeared around each corner. The
many temples weren’t surprising as China had always been the cradle of
religious philosophies like Confucianism, Taoism and Buddhism. These three
philosophical teachings played a significant role in shaping Chinese culture.
Although a big and modern city, I assumed it
would be an old part as Guangzhou had a rich history dating to the ancient Silk
Route days. It didn’t take long to find narrow, winding streets revealing small,
dark and dusty workshops where coppersmiths were bent over their work,
oblivious of me.
I operated in low gear as I suspected the
Garmin would take a few days to arrive. I strolled past antique shops sporting
the most exquisite ceramic vases, beautiful furniture and jade carvings, along tree-lined
canals and past old colonial buildings, constructed by the British and French
in the 19th century after being granted permission to set up warehouses.
11-12 February - Guangzhou
I took to the streets, and it became a day of
finding small but exciting things. Down a narrow pedestrian lane was the humble
house of the Father of Chinese Railways. The union was down a different path for
actors playing martial arts and acrobatic roles in Cantonese opera.
Interestingly, the house next door was the ancestral house of Bruce Lee, not
surprising, as his father was a Cantonese opera actor.
The most exquisite ivory (albeit politically
incorrect) carvings were displayed at one of the temples. Whether or not one approved,
you couldn’t help but stand in awe of the incredible detail. Sadly, my
photography didn’t do the carvings any justice. I further learned ivory trading
in China wasn’t open to all. At the beginning of that year, the government
destroyed more than six tons of illegal ivory. Ivory trading was legal, provided
it came from a government-registered dealer. In addition, each carving had to
carry a certificate of provenance.
The Cathedral of the Sacred Heart, built by
the French after the Second Opium War, was made entirely of granite featuring
two massive towers, each standing 48 metres high. Returning, I stopped at the
supermarket but shopping remained challenging.
While already standing out like a sore thumb,
taking pictures was equally challenging. Still, at times, it felt like one was
only different once. After that, everything you do (acceptable or not) is
written off as you being a foreigner.
The temperature plummeted to a mere seven °C,
and best to stay put until the weather improved. Quite unbelievable how the
weather could change. Frozen solid I wondered what happened to my resolution of
“Never to leave the tropics ever again”. The strangest thing was that the
hostel didn’t offer heating and was like a fridge. Mercifully, my sleeping bag came
in handy and I thought it time to head south.
13 February - Guangzhou
Nothing came from the Garmin ordered, and a
taxi took me to a large centre selling electronic equipment. One was bound to
find something there and locating the Garmin stand was easy. Unfortunately, they
didn’t have the one I was looking for. In the end, I bought a pricier one providing
loads of features I would most likely never use. However, the store owner was
kind enough to install the China map in English and the rest of the evening was
spent fiddling with the Garmin. I’d my doubts about this expensive toy.
14 February - Guangzhou - Jun’anzhen - 82 km
I was like a child with a new toy and couldn’t
wait to fit it on the bike and start riding. From time to time, I checked the
map to see if I was on the right track as I didn’t entirely trust the Garmin. However,
it worked like a charm and peeped every time one changed direction. Finally, it
took me to a place named Junanzhen, which had a hotel, and the rest of the
evening was spent downloading the day’s information. Quite a magical little
thing.
15 February - Jun’anzhen – Chikan, Kaiping,
Guangdong – 101 km
I clipped in the Garmin and resumed my ride through
the countryside, and what a charming countryside Guangdong province turned out.
The way led past ancient-looking villages and along canals until arriving in
the Kaiping district.
The landscape around Kaiping was most
remarkable, revealing several small but old villages housing fortified
multi-storey towers constructed in the 1920s and 30s. The towers (diaolou)
served two purposes: housing and protecting against bandits. These towers weren’t
exactly ancient - the oldest was barely over 100 years old, but they were pretty
remarkable. The towers were scattered around the countryside, and the plan was
to visit them the following day. There were approximately 1,833 Diaolou still
standing in Kaiping. Twenty of the most symbolic ones were inscribed on UNESCO’s
World Heritage List.
16 February - Around Kaiping – 40 km
With the weather still bitterly cold and
dressed in all my warm clothing, I headed off into the countryside, first to
the pretty village of Zili, where most of the towers were.
The story goes: In the mid-19th century
things weren’t going too well in the region. Slavery was outlawed in most western
countries, which created cheap labour. Many people in the area were recruited.
Good pay and working conditions were promised. However, workers were made to
work as labourers under terrible conditions. Of the millions of Chinese workers
who left many died, and only a few became wealthy and returned. They brought
with them wealth and exotic ideas. The towers were built to protect their
families from bandits, flooding and Japanese troops.
17 February - Chikan – Yangjiang – 95 km
On leaving Chikan, the weather was foggy and
not much to see. The going was easy, and I’d no reason to stop as the breeze
was from behind. A few towers were sprinkled about, but nothing interesting
happened. With the iPod stuck in my ears and to the tune of good old “Brucey”,
I stepped on the pedals and cycled the 100 kilometres to Yangjiang.
18 February - Yangjiang – Dianbai – 105 km
The mornings were always foggy and once I
attached a flashing light and donned my bright yellow rain jacket I proceeded in
a westerly direction towards Hainan, where the climate was rumoured warmer. Even
if not cold, it started raining, and I pulled into Dianbai.
19-21 February - Dianbai – Zhanjiang – 113 km
The stretch between Dianbai and Zhanjiang was
effortless biking, albeit still misty and with light rain. With little of interest,
I played with my electronic toys, of which I had a growing number by then.
None, however, did me any good, and the fancy Garmin was still to find me a meaningful
place or route. Google Maps on my phone did a better job at finding things.
The day turned out another 120-kilometre ride,
and on slinking into Zhanjiang, I encountered a bridge where cycling wasn’t
allowed. The Garmin pointed me to the ferry port where bikes and motorbikes
were ferried across and onto a cheap(ish) hotel. I, subsequently, discovered it
not a river but an inlet of the South China Sea.
A desperate need to do laundry called for
staying an additional day. Unable to find a laundromat, I started doing the
laundry, but the hotel staff came to the rescue. However, it was unclear when
the laundry would be returned. Shopping, typically, took double the time than
anywhere else, and I spent nearly the entire day finding the few items needed.
My abode was right opposite the market,
making it easy to pop in to find a bite to eat. But, convinced the meal
contained dog meat, I went without supper.
22 February - Zhanjiang – Leizhou – 60 km
Luckily, the laundry was returned in time. As
the internet stated, a ferry operated between Zhanjiang and Hainan. So, I searched
for the jetty. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much information regarding the boat and
no sign of it; maybe, it didn’t exist. A small road ran further south in
Hainan’s direction, but being already late, I didn’t think I would reach the
island before dark and settle for a night in Leizhou.
23 February - Leizhou – Haikou, Hainan Island
– 105 km
I hadn’t seen any westerners since my arrival
in China a month ago. Thus, not unusual to get a few stares as I was completely
different from the Chinese, in practically every way. My every move was scrutinised
and the fact that I was travelling solo not something the Chinese could wrap
their heads around. While they didn’t say it, it looked as if they felt sorry
for me, you could see it in their eyes. Why someone would want to take a
vacation to a foreign country by themselves wasn’t something the Chinese understood.
People on scooters could cause accidents the
way they swung around to look, and people in cars slowed down, holding up their
toddlers to get a glimpse at the strange woman. Likewise, stopping in a village
to get a drink was something of a circus. Some were curious, and others were scared;
several came closer, a few kept their distance, some pointed, and others giggled.
A little boy summed it up nicely - he looked up in surprise, and all he could
utter was, “WOW”. His little sister was utterly dumbstruck; her eyes went big,
and her mouth fell open, quickly retreating a few steps.
Not having spoken to anyone in weeks, I feared
losing my voice. With the iPod blaring in my ears, I sang along at the top of
my lungs. I sped off over the hills bellowing the lyrics of “Cocaine” and “I
Shot the Sheriff”. I got a few more strange looks, but I threw in a “Ni-hao”
and a wave and continued belting out songs’ lyrics from yesteryear. And to
think, all while entirely sober.
24–28 February - Haikou, Hainan
I arrived to do the dreaded visa extension
and paid for two nights’ accommodation at the Banana Hostel. First thing the
following morning, I hunted down the Public Security Bureau (PSB). I couldn’t believe
I’d been in China an entire month. Locating the office was easy, but the
counter was closed and I was told to return after 14h30. I further required a note/letter
of sorts from the hostel. After obtaining the necessary items, I returned to
the PSB. The process consisted of a fair amount of “form-filling-in”. Once photographed
and fingerprinted, I was told to collect the visa in four days. Fortunately, Haikou
had loads of interest and thus enough to keep me occupied.
I stayed in Haikou and did little apart from meandering
the city’s old part revealing many antique shops. The amble also gave plenty of
time to play with the macro lens.
Four days passed and, eventually, time to
pick up the visa. Returning, I followed my nose down crooked alleys and curving
streets. The smell of fresh dumplings and roadside barbecues hung in the air as
old men played board games in parks while cigarettes dangled from their lips.
1 March - Haikou – Wenchang – 109 km
Hainan was a popular cycling destination amongst
young people, and I encountered many college kids en route to Wenchang. Unfortunately,
the ride was unimpressive, and even the beach area was horrible, revealing far
too many high-rises and dust from more developments being constructed. In
addition, the ride was windy, and I battled into a stiff breeze.
2 March - Wenchang - Bo’ao - 66 km
In the morning, a short and pleasant day of pedalling
led to Bo’ao, through small villages and past farmlands where crops were ready
to be harvested. Fish farms were going ten to a dozen, and many small shrines
lined the road where devotees burned incense to their preferred deities.
As the island was a popular multi-day cycling
destination, I again met a few cyclists biking around the island. Bo’ao had a
cheapish room, dumplings and beer, making it an excellent place to overnight.
3 March - Bo’ao - 50 km
Twenty-five kilometres beyond Bo’ao, I
realised I didn’t have my GoPro. Convinced the camera was left behind, I returned
to the hotel in Bo’ao. Once there, of course, there was no sign of the camera
but I stayed the night, only to uncover the camera in one of my panniers!
A short stroll led to the beach that sported a
temple rich in colours, textures and light. Nevertheless, the deities were
enough to put the fear of God into anyone. Returning, I stumbled across a delightful
little coffee shop housed in an old, traditional stone house. A lovely, leafy
garden provided wooden tables under giant umbrellas. Inside, the cafe was
chock-a-block with antiques and arty bits and bobs. Last but not least, the
coffee was served in real china.
4 March - Bo’ao – Xinglong - 95 km
The many cyclists encountered were all on
their way to Xinglong. As the town was said, the location of a hot spring that sounded
pleasant, I followed suit. Not feeling too well - it must’ve been something I
ate - I pushed on to Xinglong. The cyclists I met earlier that day had already located
budget accommodation; they showed me where to go.
Xinglong was over-developed and touristy, and
I didn’t even go in search of the well-known hot spring as I could imagine what
that would be like. Instead, seeing I’d pick up a knee problem, I spent the
evening indoors.
5-7 March - Xinglong – Sanya - 118 km
There wasn’t much one could do concerning the
knee, and though the map indicated a hilly stretch, I cycled over the mountains.
The strange thing was the knee was 100% while riding, weird.
A pleasant cycle led past rural villages and
farmlands before hitting a big and lively Sanya with its 20-kilometre-long stretch
of beach. Afterwards, I went straight to Dadong Hai, where the map indicated a
hostel. Backpacker Hostel turned out pleasant and tucked away behind high-rises
and slap-bang in the middle of the action - a real haven.
The following day was spent doing close to
zero, only wandering to the beach and around the corner to find food. Surprisingly
enough, the area was highly built-up, and the dominant languages, both spoken
and written, were Chinese and Russian. With sunshine all year round,
temperatures hovered around 25°C, even in January and, consequently, immensely
touristy. The area produced pearls in abundance and was sold all over the place.
Giant clams were considered endangered, but shells were sold at all the shops.
Sanya was an excellent place with interesting
people to talk to, and one more day was spent in town. Still concerned about my
knee, a knee guard was purchased. I rubbed the knee with locally purchased
Chinese lotion and slipped on the tight knee guard, most likely made to fit thin
Chinese legs and not my stompers.
8 March - Sanya – Huangliu - 103 km
I packed up, took a few pics in the company
of the hostel staff, and started out through the town area in a westerly
direction. Thirty-five kilometres beyond Sanya, a large Buddhist temple complex
begged to be explored.
The place was swarming with tourists, and thousands
milled about, and I couldn’t get my head around the hefty entrance fee to such
a fake and artificial setup. Nevertheless, I joined the madness, snapped a few
pics, and then quickly escaped. It needs mentioning that at the centre of this spectacle
stood a 108-metre-tall Buddha statue on a human-made island, larger than the
Statue of Liberty!
The rest of the day was more “normal” – past small
hamlets until spotting a welcoming-looking guesthouse featuring a few mobile
food carts and I called it a day.
9 March - Huangliu – Changjiang - 128 km
It turned out a pleasant cycle through a beautiful
countryside past small traditional villages where farmers still ploughed the
field in old-fashioned ways. Changjiang offered accommodation on the main road,
signalling the end of the day’s ride.
These new and large cities weren’t as
daunting as they appear from further afield. Seeing they were well planned, things
were where one envisaged. The roads were wide and the traffic flowed freely.
The separate cycle- and motorbike lanes made biking easy.
10 March - Changjiang – Jialai - 116 km
Time was spent packing up before pointing the
bicycle in the direction of Haikou, again meeting other cyclists and a journalist
who took a few shots and asked a few questions. The scenery was particularly lush
and green. I assumed it was a tree-planting project, as trees were everywhere,
and thought it just a little too organised to be natural. However, the
authorities further beautified the road with dense and colourful plants, making
the ride pleasant. Not thinking one would find accommodation along the route, it
was a surprise to stumble upon a small village sporting 50-yuan rooms.
As was the norm by then, I popped across the
road to get a takeaway meal, as eating under such intense scrutiny remained
uncomfortable. While waiting for the noodles, bystanders didn’t take their eyes
off me for a second. Being stared at like that was pretty embarrassing. They didn’t
even blink while inspecting my feet and hair and were shocked by my bare arms,
which had been clearly exposed to the sun.
11 March - Jialai – Haikou - 108 km
Due to the perfect weather – overcast but not
cold, I set off in high spirit. The way ran past many small and scenic villages
where I stopped to buy lunch but ended up carrying the food to Haikou (due to
the staring), where the Banana Hostel was my abode of choice.
12 March - Haikou
Outside Haikou was a volcano park, and, although
not expecting much, I still investigated this area. According to geologists,
the last eruption occurred roughly 13,000 years ago. One could walk up to the
old crater rim which overlooked the countryside. I could see other craters from
the rim in the distance, said almost 36 in total.
Far more exciting was the nearby Rongtang village;
a historic, lava-rock village built entirely from volcanic rock. The town was
constructed roughly 900 years ago. Rongtang was largely abandoned, but a few
elders live in this unique historic village. Besides, the area still had old
lava tunnels. A 90-year-old lady (all bent over) offered to show me the
tunnels. So, we set out; homemade torch in hand (bamboo, cloth and paraffin). Many
of these caves were interconnected and were used as hiding places from the
Japanese during the war.
13-14 March - Haikou
The days came and went, and I hung around the
hostel, not doing a great deal. A crowd from the Hash House Harriers (primarily
Australians) were in town for their annual get-together - they were a pleasant
bunch.
There wasn’t much one could do losing a lens
cover but take a walk downtown to find another one. The stroll was a pleasant
one through the old quarters and city park. The parks were large, lush and
always provided plenty of water, making them peaceful places to stroll and
watch people do Tai-chi. The pavements were lined with hawkers, selling
colourful umbrellas, steaming pots of corn-on-the-cob, and rice in banana
leaves.
15 March - Haikou, Hainan – Beihai, Guangxi -
By ferry
Departing the hostel to cycle to the port, I
ran into a German couple on bikes. We chatted a while before I realised they
had a small child in the trailer. Their 4-year-old daughter was quite happy
sitting in the trailer listening to stories—what a remarkable family. I could barely
get myself up the hills, let alone pull a child and trailer.
Instead of returning to the mainland the way
I came, I assumed it more interesting to go via Beihai, slightly more West, saving
me backtracking the 150 kilometres to Zhanjiang.
Surprisingly, I was somewhat of a celebrity
on the ferry. Apparently, a few days earlier, an article covering my travels was
printed in the paper, and just almost everyone knew I was South African. Mainly
they were astounded that I’d sold all my possessions. My newfound fame got me a
cabin all to myself. Being an overnight ferry, we only departed at around 7
p.m.
16-17 March - Beihai, Guangxi – 6 km
The ferry arrived in Beihai, dead on time,
but I couldn’t locate the bike lock key. Give me strength, where could it have
gone in such a small cabin? There wasn’t anything to do but cut the lock. I met
two German ladies travelling by bicycle at the pier waiting to catch Hainan’s
ferry. They started off hitchhiking but somewhere along the line bought bikes
and continued their travels by bicycle. By then, they’d been travelling the
past year and a half. From the harbour was a short six-kilometres to 21 Degree
Hostel, situated right in the old part and a convenient place to stay.
Beihai had a wonderful old part, a bustling
river and fishing harbour, making exciting sightseeing. Wandering through the historic
quarters, music coming from an open doorway called for an investigation and I was
promptly waved in—what a pleasant thing to sit there and listen to them
rehearsing.
By morning, fog and a howling wind made staying
put. The market was, as always, a fascinating and colourful place. The veggies
were fresh and plentiful; as foreseen, no Chinese market could be complete
without its woks. Only the seafood was slightly out of the ordinary, as they
seemingly ate the strangest sea creatures. Then, on the other hand, it could’ve
been bait. The oysters weren’t eaten raw (like barbarians do) but cooked on
coals and sprinkled with spices.
The Chinese food was delicious, super fresh, crisp
and tasty. You could pick your seafood from the tank, which the chef then
cooked in whatever manner you preferred.
18 March - Beihai – Qinzhou, Guangxi - 106 km
Leaving Beihai, the fog slowly rose,
revealing small and quaint fishing villages. To my one side was the ocean and to
the other, an inlet or river with picturesque and busy harbours. The path
eventually left the coast and slowly veered inland through dense forestry plantations
and past sawmills and other wood-related works.
I stopped next to a lady on her tricycle at
the traffic light. I said “Ni-hau” and she said “Hello,” and we both laughed as
we knew these two words were the total of our foreign language vocabulary. She
continued in Chinese, and I replied in English: “Yes, I am going to Nanning and
I was from South Africa.” One never knows, maybe that’s what she asked. Then, the
light changed, and we waved goodbye like old friends.
19-20 March - Qinzhou – Nanning, Guangxi -
127 km
Shortly after departing Qinzhou, the route deteriorated
as it veered inland over the mountains to Nanning. Not much further, the road turned
into a muddy, potholed mess, to such an extent that it required walking the
bike through the thick mud.
Covered in mud, I battled onwards, fearing it
would be impossible to reach Nanning that day. Then, as if this wasn’t enough,
a bee stung me right on the jaw. Halfway to Nanning, a restaurant provided an
outside tap, allowing spraying of the bicycle down. Still, soon the chain and
gears were all clogged again.
This condition prevailed until virtually 30
kilometres from Nanning. Finally, I crawled into Nanning at around 18h00,
covered in mud and dead tired, only to find the hostel I’d in mind had closed
down. Give me strength! Not eating all day, I was in no mood to search for a
different hostel and booked into the first hotel spotted.
In the morning, feeling refreshed, I cycled to
the nearby Green Forest Hostel, where a room was more expensive than the hotel
(I could’ve taken a dorm bed, which would’ve been way cheaper, but I had an
evil plan). But, at least there were people to talk to, and I could do laundry
and wash my muddy panniers (in the shower). It turned out to be Spring Day and
a good day to do spring cleaning. I stayed at the hostel as they arranged
Vietnamese visas at no added cost. Vietnam was within striking distance, and
the plan was in heading that way. So, after handing in the passport, all I’d to
do was wait.
21 March - Nanning
With plenty of time, a stroll into town
revealed an outdoor store. The intriguing thing was that instead of the usual
lightweight knife, spoon and fork set used for camping or hiking, the shop sold
chopsticks and a spoon. Now, why did that surprise me?
A cool thing about hostels is that they are mainly
well situated, close to almost anything. The Green Forest was no exception and,
best of all, close to the night market – my favourite eating place. The only
negative thing was they were located on the third floor, and one had to schlep the
bike and panniers up two sets of stairs. Here, as in other countries, they
refer to the ground floor as 1st floor, then 2nd floor and then 3rd floor,
whereas, at home, we usually say ground floor, 1st floor, and 2nd floor.
I eagerly awaited the night market’s opening to
get my bowl of wonton soup. I understood the literal English translation of the
word “wonton” was swallowing a cloud; quite an apt description when looking at the
dumplings floating in the soup, and they were delicious.
22 March - Nanning
Determined to get pictures of modern Nanning,
I enthusiastically started down the pedestrian mall, past lines and lines of designer
stores.
China was a wonderful country, and I was in awe
of its achievements. They managed to raise over 400 million people out of extreme
poverty in 20 years - 14 years ahead of their 2015 target date. Of course, people
quickly point out China’s negatives, but their success in the battle against
poverty was undeniable.
Back to my story of the day, there were
opportunities to capture modern Nanning. Still, behind MacDonald’s, Pizza Hut
and KFC were tiny alleys. I weakened and headed off down the dark and narrow
lane. The area was a fascinating one. People still pushed building materials in
three-wheeled carts, laundry hung from lines strung across the cobblestone lanes,
and traditional single-storey dwellings were adorned by red lanterns.
Interesting-looking doorways led to unknown destinations and sagging tiled
roofs, crooked windows and doors made far more interesting pictures than the
modern structures. Great was my excitement when, by rounding a corner, I came
upon the silversmith hard at work, melting and pounding tiny silver pellets
into fine jewellery.
My passport and Vietnamese visa returned,
leaving only three more visa pages, meaning I was in dire need of a SA Embassy.
As the day wore on, I wasn’t entirely sure
going to Vietnam was such a good idea. Having already cycled Vietnam, the only
reason for going there was to pass the time (waiting until the weather improved)
before heading to Shanghai, situated in the opposite direction. However, the
more I looked at my options, the more apparent it became that it would be a
costly diversion, whatever my decision.
23 March – Nanning - Tong’ an - By bus
Emerging, I still wasn’t 100% sure which
direction to go. The first stop was at the train station to inquire regarding a
train to Xiamen, where I started, and from where the plan was to head east. It
turned out no train operated between Nanning and Xiamen (or at least not one on
which one could take the bicycle). I’m convinced there was, but it involved a
change of trains and could’ve been too much for the Chinese to explain in their
limited English.
This was all too much trouble, and better to
head out of town in the direction of Vietnam. In the process, the road led past
the bus station. I stopped to enquire, and by 14h30, was on a sleeper bus en
route to Xiamen. How was that for a change of plans? Actually, it wasn’t a
change of plans. The idea from the start was to head west to Nanning before
returning to Xiamen and then cycle towards Shanghai to catch a ferry to South
Korea.
The bus was comfy and provided (small)
individual beds (barely wide enough for me), but at least one could be
horizontal. How long the ride would take wasn’t clear, and all settled in for
the (anticipated) long haul. Said an express bus, we hardly stopped. Only once,
at around 20h00, did the bus stop, allowing all to grab a bite to eat
24 March - Tong’an, Fujian – 20 km
At around 7h00, I woke with a start and was informed
I’d reached my destination. The bus had stopped beside the highway, and disorientated
I hurriedly stumbled off the bus. I felt somewhat abandoned being left like
that.
My phone told me I was twenty kilometres
outside Tong’an and luckily didn’t have to approach anyone to ask where I was.
Imagine that! Far too tired to cycle onto the next town, I opted for the
shorter 20 kilometres ride to a nearby hotel. I put all my devices on charge,
had a shower, got something to eat, and had a nap.
25-26 March - Tong’ an – Quanzhou, Fujian -
90 km
The following day was effortless riding to
Quanzhou, and what a large city. It took pedalling quite some time before
eventually crawling into what was known as the old part.
My second month’s visa was to expire in three
days. So I thought extending the visa in Quanzhou was a good idea before
proceeding. Still, the person dealing with the visa wasn’t in the office and I was
told to return the following day.
The old part turned out interesting and
offered several beautiful temples. The parks were pleasant and well planned;
people were running, walking, and boating, and the parks even had piped music. There
were three parks in the less than three-kilometre walk to the old mosque.
In the morning, I returned to the police
station – this time to be told they didn’t do visas at that branch and I wondered
how they didn’t know this the previous day. They kindly gave me a ride and then
pointed me in the direction of the visa office.
Sadly, I was informed they couldn’t extend an
already extended visa. So now, what was that all about? I subsequently learned
that Quanzhou was notoriously problematic for extending visas.
I could’ve tried at another town but ran out
of time and couldn’t waste one more day. My best option (I presumed) was to
retreat to Hong Kong and apply for a new Chinese visa once there. At the bus
station, a ticket was purchased to Hong Kong. The bus only departed the
following day at 21h00 and I understood it would reach the border after 10
hours.
Once all the formalities were done, enough time
remained to investigate the area. In the process, I came upon an old mosque.
The Qingjing Mosque was built in 1009 and is the oldest in China.
27 March - Quanzhou
I was operating in low gear as there wasn’t much
more to do but drink coffee and visit old temples. Eventually, the time came to
board the bus; luckily, it was a “sleeping” bus, sporting little bunk beds, and
one could lie down quite comfortably.
