disoriented: Journey to Beijing

Fresh off the train from Beijing and I feel a little zombie-like, but the familiarity of Guangzhou almost makes me feel like I’m coming home.

Beijing was awesome, but I feel like I spent more time in transit than I did in the actual city. My train left at 4pm Monday afternoon, but because it was my first solo expedition in China, I thought it wise to give my non-speaking Chinese self ample time to figure out the confusion and chaos that is Guangzhou Railway Station. I arrived at the station a solid two hours before my scheduled departure, which allowed for a stop at McDonald’s. My belly full with Big Mac, I decided it was time to venture into the station to brave the throngs of people.

Guangzhou Railway Station

Chinese luggage comes in various forms.

Oh, how I wish I could own an invisible camera. I’m not quite shameless enough to snap photos the way I’d like to. But it’s difficult to put into words the sights witnessed. At first glance, it appears as though the station is strewn with homeless people. Newspapers are laid out haphazardly to make little beds in any available corner the station has to offer. There are not only people sleeping to pass the time: some are eating, playing, cards, smoking, or all of the above. It’s not these activities that are puzzling to me; it’s the fact that the filth of the place is completely disregarded. I’m slowly coming to terms with how dirty and crowded it is practically everywhere I go. Slowly. Nothing could have prepared me, however, for the 21 hour train ride on which I was about to embark.

Booking the ticket four days prior was a task in itself, but with the help of my FAO, I procured a

one-way ticket to Beijing on a hard sleeper. The idea of the whole new experience lead me to ignore the fact that I was willingly submitting myself to be confined to one (small) designated area for almost an entire day. I had my ipod filled with music, 3 books on the go on my kindle, and my little notebook to record the entire experience - I would be just fine. My optimistic excitement about the adventure came to a screeching halt mere minutes after boarding the train. Car 15, seat 106 was not a hard sleeper, but a hard seat. A hard middle seat. Surely, there had to be a mistake, so I pushed my way through the yelling women, sweating men, and crying babies (I wish this were an exaggeration) to try to find where I would really be sitting. Reaching the end of the car I realized that no, it was not a mistake. There was no "hard sleeper 106". This was confirmed when I showed my ticket to a fellow passenger and shrugged. He pointed to the seat I had initially passed by in disbelief. My fate was confirmed. I was about to spend the next 21 hours of my life in a stinky man sandwich.

The first few hours I kept thinking to myself that this was some sick joke. April Fools’ Day one day late? This would be kind of funny on a non-celebrity version of Punk’d. Ashton never showed up though, so I turned up my music and tried to take myself to a happy place. This proved to be a difficult task. My interest in people watching got the better of me, and I watched in close proximity as my company chewed on a variety of snacks. One guy across the aisle gnawed on chicken feet out of a bag and proceeded to spit out the nails onto the floor of the train. He also was quite fond of chain-smoking.

Hours crept by as pain crept up my spine and settled in for the night. I gave up on the idea of sleep, became accustomed to the second-hand smoke, and tried to drown out the endless chatter with my music.

I have to stop this “poor me” story here, as I did not have the worst of it. Also available for purchase, once the hard seats sell out, are tickets for standing room. For the same cost of a hard seat, you get to stand, sit, squat, or lie anywhere you like… in the aisle. There was one lady standing in the aisle next to us that would take a seat anytime it emptied for someone's washroom break. These little moments of respite seemed to keep her in high spirits. She kept talking to me in Mandarin, even though I kept telling her I didn’t understand. This is when I learned that the guy sitting next to me knew a little bit of English. He acted as translator and told me that the woman said “you have beautiful words”. She had noticed that I had been writing in my little notebook. I was documenting how horrible things were but this stopped me dead in my tracks. The warmth of this woman suddenly made everything better. I learned that she was on her way to Beijing to visit her daughter who is about my age. She showed me a picture of her that she had on her cell phone and I showed her a few photos that I had on my phone as well. Later, we all shared the snacks that we had brought with us for the ride.

Despite how wonderful this sense of community made me feel, the reality of the train ride stayed the same. Amongst all the other factors, my two neighbours drifting in out of sleep (unintentionally using me as an occasional pillow) made any kind of rest impossible. Once the morning came, knowing I hadn’t slept at all, my neighbour offered me his window seat for the last lag of the journey so I could lean and try to sleep before our arrival. The generosity of strangers keeps catching me by surprise.