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CHINA
Riding the Rails from Hong Kong to Beijing
by
Susanne Lee
A train trip through China is an adventure
that gives a traveler unique access to the Chinese, as well as the
opportunity to see the country at a leisurely rate and experience scenes
straight out of National Geographic: a solitary bicyclist riding along terraced
rice paddies, school children walking home past old brick houses and rural
buildings painted with faded revolutionary slogans. The journey begins at
the modern Hunghom station in Hong Kong, where
trains fill up with people bringing the latest consumer goods into
Guangzhou. There are a few musts in Hong Kong, the duty-free shoppers’ mecca: a ride on the stately old Star Ferry, which
carries residents between Hong Kong Island and Kowloon
on the mainland; a meal at a dai pai dong, one of the ubiquitous street stands that
serve up bowls of fresh wonton soup and noodles and roast pork; and a
stroll through the Temple Street Market, an open-air shopping walk where
seafood, electronics and designer knockoffs are available at reasonable
prices and where unmatchable local color comes free of charge. Bargaining
is expected.
The direct Hong Kong-to-Beijing train trip
takes a total of 30 hours, but travelers are free to stop along the way.
Ticketing has been simplified for the foreign traveler. Until recently, there
was a dual-price system where foreigners had to buy tickets at separate
locations at considerably higher fares than locals, for the same seats and
service. Now, tourists and residents pay one price, and tickets can readily
be purchased overseas though travel agents in the U.S., from CITS, the
Chinese Travel Service, and at hotels in China.
Tickets are more difficult to come by
during such major Chinese holidays as the An-niversary
of the October 1 Revolution and the Lunar New Year. The Lunar New Year (also
known as Spring Festival) is a three-day weekend that starts in February on
the first day of the old lunar calendar. Along with train tickets,
accommodations become hard to get as hotels raise their prices and
expatriate Chinese arrive for the festivities. Spectacular fireworks
displays highlight the New Year celebrations.
Ironically, for a "classless"
society, there are three very different classes on the Chinese rail system:
"hard seats," "hard sleeper" and "soft
sleeper" (also called first class). "Hard seat" train cars
have rows of upright wooden seats that are not hard but padded. Filled to
capacity with locals who seem to carry their entire worldly possessions
with them—overstuffed suitcases, bamboo baskets, even live
chickens—hard-seat cars have piped-in Chinese news and weather reports.
Hard sleepers have rows of bunks with sheets, pillows and blankets
provided. Not uncomfortable, they offer no privacy and are mainly used by
locals and adventurous foreign travelers.
"Soft seat," a separate class usually
available only on short journeys, offers wide, padded chairs. First class
is where foreign travelers meet China’s elite, party cadres on State
expense accounts, academics and entrepreneurs.
The first-class compartments contain two
pairs of facing bunks, a small, shared table and the ubiquitous thermos of
hot water available on all long-distance Chinese trains. The fuwuyuan, or attendants, are a motley crew of men and
women, some of whom speak a smidgen of English and most of whom are polite
and helpful. During the trip, they stoke the samovar at the end of each car
and trudge through the cars lugging huge kettles of boiling water to refill
the thermoses.
Chinese train stations are huge, sprawling,
open halls where many hundreds, sometimes several thousands, of people sit
clumped with their belongings waiting and watching the large, flickering
boards that reveal the platform numbers of departing trains. First-class
passengers can escape the bedlam and enjoy the relative quiet and comforts
of waiting rooms with plush, crocheted doily-covered loveseats, and huge
televisions broadcasting Chinese Central Television (CCTV)—a world away
from the teeming masses.
The landscapes of China—rice paddies in the
South, peasants tilling the land, houses with sloping rust-colored tile
roofs, the red earth of the North, a boy on a water buffalo tending the
fields—fill the windows. At the station platforms, passengers struggle with
their bags and rush off the trains as relatives await arrivals. Vendors
sell such treats as spicy roast chicken, locally brewed beers, roasted
pumpkin seeds, seasonal fresh fruit and assorted sweets, excellent yogurt
and local sodas, which vary from region to region.
This train has been described as a
freewheeling bazaar on wheels, lubricated by ample amounts of alcohol. Men
drink liter bottles of Qingdao beer and smoke
pungent local cigarettes, while women chat amongst themselves and care for
children. Many sit gazing out the windows at the scenery. For the most
part, travelers are a friendly group. A Chinese English speaker will often
try to strike up a conversation. A few rudimentary words of Chinese, such
as ni hao (hello) and xie xie (thank you), make the
trip more fun and less intimidating. Chinese genuinely appreciate
Westerners attempting to speak Mandarin, even if they mangle the tones.
Most travelers sip tea water, a dilute tea,
from glass jars or lidded stainless steel mugs. Veteran travelers bring a
supply of food to supplement the dining-car menus, from Ramen noodles to
such imported chocolates as Toblerone and Nutella, cookies and local fruit purchased at stops,
and canned congee, soups that are sweet or savory. Chinese travelers are
usually quite generous, sharing their cache of snacks.
The dining car has the reputation for
serving up good food, and the kitchen lives up to its reputation, serving
surprisingly tasty train fare. A limited menu charges a few dollars for a
hearty bowl of noodles and vegetables or simple, fresh, stir-fried
dishes—chicken and green peppers, beef and onions in soy sauce, scrambled
eggs with tomatoes, sauteed cucumbers with
peanuts. Reading the Chinese menu is not necessary here; simply pointing to
the dishes will do. After the dining car closes, the workers and fuwuyuan will hang out. Tourists drift in and are welcome
to sit, mime a conversation and drink with them. Mao Tai, sorghum liquor,
is the drink of choice.
Suzhou, "the
Venice of the East," was one of Marco Polo’s favorite cities. Located
on the major trade route, it was a center of silk production in the 12th
century. Canals crisscross the city, and residents make their homes along
the water, where they hang their laundry, play with their children or brush
their teeth.
Suzhou is famous
for its gardens, where scholars would contemplate and write couplets as
they sat in gazebos amidst the rock formations and bamboo. New York’s
Metropolitan Museum of Art houses a duplicate of the scholar’s study from
one of Suzhou’s best-known gardens, the Garden of
the Keeper of the Nets. Suzhou is also known for
its sweets, especially steamed, leaf-wrapped rice dumplings, pastries and
candied strawberries in season. Two local teas worth sampling are jasmine
and Biluochun, Snail Spring Tea (which is not
made from snails).
Just slightly more than an hour away, Shanghai , once named the “Paris of the East,” is a
decadent cityscape full of opium dens, houses of prostitution, gangsters
and expatriates from Russia and the West. Today, its notoriety has returned
as businessmen from all over the world, prostitutes, sailors, artists, bohemians
and other characters make Shanghai their regular port-of-call. Remnants of
its past remain in the Peace Hotel, an old Noel Coward haunt. Its main
dining hall, restored to 1920’s and ‘30’s glory, offers a stunning view of
the Huangpu River and the Bund, the walk along
the river fronted by monumental Art Deco architecture.
Nanjing Lu, also
lined with Deco skyscrapers, has been transformed into a shopper’s
paradise, with Japanese department stores, Western boutiques and cafes with
decent cakes and awful coffee that are popular with young locals. A stroll
along this bustling avenue is like a trip back in time. Worth a stop is the
Shanghai Museum, which features a fine collection of bronzes. With its rows
of stalls serving cheap local dishes, the Yunnan Night
Market is the place to sample xiao lung,
delicious handmade steamed dumplings.
The new fast train now takes less than two
hours from Shanghai to Hangzhou. Hangzhou sits on Xihu, or
West Lake, a freshwater lake framed by hills, temples and gardens. Life
revolves around the lakeshore, with shops and restaurants that serve West
Lake fish, often served with a sweet-and-sour sauce. Rent a skiff with a
private oarsman who will stop at the islands in the lake; it is a pleasant,
low-key trip. Sip Longjing tea, the delicate
green tea grown outside the city, while relaxing at one of the pavilions
bordering the lake, and pretend to be Chinese royalty.
Life aboard the train is punctuated by each
new city. Patterns of waking, eating and waiting quickly develop. Routine
activities such as bathing are adapted to the surroundings. Anticipation of
the next stop, and the chance to stand on solid ground, to stretch, eat, shop and breathe fresh air, are highlights of each
leg of the trip.
Time passes quickly; hours are spent
peering out the window at concrete apartment blocks, faded Cultural
Revolution slogans painted on the sides of brick buildings, sunrises,
sunsets. The few Western travelers carry thick volumes of classics, which
never seem to get read, or listen to their Walkmans; Chinese travelers play
cards, read newspapers, smoke and lounge in their cabins.
The journey concludes at Beijing’s Main
Train Station, where other trains are ready to leave. The signs on each
dark-green car bear the destination in Chinese, Mongolian and Cyrillic.
These trains bound for Ulaan Bataar,
Mongolia, and continue on to Moscow, Russia.
Beijing is changing rapidly, as high-rises
begin to dominate the skyline, with pizza parlors, espresso bars, karaoke
bars and German beer halls sprouting up everywhere. Some traditional sights
and experiences remain. In addition to such major tourist destinations as
the Great Wall of China and the Forbidden City, there are other more
offbeat sights. Spend an afternoon exploring the hutongs,
the linking network of winding alleyways where residents have lived for
centuries; watch senior citizens practice Tai Chi in the early mornings at Tiantan, the Temple of Heaven; grab a bowl of
inexpensive steaming handmade noodles or grilled chicken kebabs at an
outdoor night market. Beijing also has a thriving rock music scene. Its
most famous star, Cui Jian, writes songs that make the government nervous,
but has earned an international following. Check the weekly on-line magazines,
Beijing City Edition and Beijing Scene, for details.
After traveling overland in China, a
traveler gains an appreciation of the magnitude of the country, its
history, vast terrain, cuisine and its people. The best souvenirs of the
train ride? The images that linger long after the trip is over—like that
boy sitting on his water buffalo.
Susanne Lee, a writer and radio commentator whose
work has appeared in The Village Voice, The Los Angeles Times Magazine, The
Nation and on WNYE-FM, recently traveled through northern India
by rail.
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