On the Right Track (part 2)

Continuing on from – Off the Rails in HK.

As it turned out, it was surprisingly easy. Not many train choices from Shenzhen apparently, as all trains seemed to be heading to Guangzhou and the first ticket window I approached was staffed by a smiling girl who, once she had seen my passport (a new government regulation for all foreigners buying train tickets in China), spat out a computer generated ticket with my passport number printed on the bottom. The train was leaving in less than 10 minutes and I just followed the crowd through the barrier and onto a sleek, bullet shaped train waiting at platform 6.

I had barely sat down when there was an almost inaudible purr of what sounded like an electric motor and then without any discernible jerk, the train slipped its moorings – I know, I know, mixed metaphor here – and slid smoothly out of the station. Almost immediately – and much to my chagrin – we were overtaken by the KCR – Kowloon to Canton (old name for Guangzhou) train from Hong Hom but a minute later we hit our stride and the digital display showing the speed flickered up from 35 kph to 60 and then 83 and – passing the old KCR train on a parallel rail – on to 107 and then 133 and upwards and onwards to 157 kph and so steady and silent that it was hard to credit that we were moving at that speed.

Up to Guangzhou East in about one hour and 10 minutes and a wait of a mere two hours before the K2109 train to Naming arrived. Guangzhou East Station was huge and it required some exploring from getting off one train and finding where to go next. As it turned out, train numbers were displayed and it was relatively easy to follow the displayed train number to the cavernous waiting room for a variety of trains, mine included.

After the standard bowl of instant noodles, (prawn flavour) the barriers were raised and what looked like 1,000 people stormed the train.  The corridor outside the carriages was carpeted and a smartly uniformed attendant greeted us and led us to our Carriage 11 which held four roomy berths, a bunch of artificial but colourful flowers in a ship’s decanter-style vase on the crisp white table cloth covering the small table by the window. The two lower berths were already made up with clean linen, pillows and a duvet and all I had to do was sit there and toast my success with a nip from the bottle of Stolicnaya peach flavoured vodka which I had thoughtfully bought in the duty free when I had crossed the border the previous day.

Conveniently, I thought, the buffet car was right next to carriage 11 but, shortly after the train pulled out of Guangzhou, when I wandered down, it was fully occupied by uniformed staff busily eating what looked like small bowls of rice, kidney beans, veg and soup. Ignored until their meal was done and the tables cleared, a uniformed youth approached me and, in impeccable English, asked if he could be of service to me. Moments later, a 500ml bottle of (warm) beer of – for me – an unrecognizable brand – and a paper cup were produced and we were on our way. What more could I want?

More sleep, as it turned out, because the train  arrived atNanning at 0500 hours and my next train wasn’t until 1820 hours. The first serious miscalculation of the trip occurred here when I discovered that once I had bought my onward train tickets – soft sleeper, bottom berth again for the Nanning to Hanoi leg – I had no more Chinese money. Buckets of HK dollars of course and even a few US stashed away secretly but of yuan / reminbi, money exchangers, ATMs, that sort of thing, the immediate vicinity of the Nanning train station seemed to be severely lacking.

Having spent the outrageous sum of 20 yuan to put my bag in the left luggage, I was down to a single, crumpled one yuan note (approximate value 1 Yuan = $1.26 HK, 0.12 Euro cents, or 16 US cents). China is fairly cheap of course, generally speaking, but how to pass the next 13 hours or so appeared to me to be a bit of a poser.

Stumping around, as usual on the wrong side of the tracks, I became increasingly hungry, tired and snappy and then .. finally an ATM. Stuck the card in only to receive the unwarranted message that I had already received my daily withdrawal allowance! At least the machine didn’t eat my card as had once happened in Phnom Penh. Never mind, wander around with increasingly dragging steps until I found another more accommodating machine which spat out the readies. Off for breakfast and then the temptation to check in to a hotel for a half day rate as opposed to tramping around Nanning seeing the sights was briefly debated and I checked into a hotel within hailing distance of the train station.

Up well in time, after the refreshing zzzz, for a few cold beers and a tasty meal of unidentifiable meat bits, noodles, rice, sautéd (again unidentifiable) veg and a small plate of pickled bits and pieces and then off to pick up the bag and find my train.

Rather easier said than done, the station heaving and pulsating with what seemed like thousands and not a word of English in sight, either on the electronic noticeboards or on my ticket other than Nanning and Hanoi. Rather like at any international airport, I was herded into massive queues leading to x-ray machines where my bag was scanned but nobody looked at the results and then I had to mount a step and was quickly scanned with an electronic wand by a bored Chinese functionary in a drab uniform. It beeped rather ominously for me but I was contemptuously waved through another metal detector which again beeped but I was quickly shoved forward by the impatient throng behind me.

Funneled into an escalator to another cavernous waiting area, I again attempted to produce my ticket to uniformed men and women who point blank refused to even look at it before disinterestedly waving me away. However, the train was due to leave at 6:30 pm and on the dot of 6:20, bells rang and barriers lifted and I was carried forward on a rising surge of people, stumbling over the wheeley bags everybody seemed to be trailing behind then, I was pushed and jostled forward to the platform and a solitary waiting train.

Author: serkeen

I am Irish, currently living in West Australia. I have a degree in Old & Middle English, Lang & Lit and, despite having worked in Kuwait, Italy, Malaysia, USA, Brunei, Australia and Hong Kong over the last 40 years, I have a strong interest in Ireland’s ancient pre-history and the heroes of its Celtic past as recorded in the 12th and late 14th century collection of manuscripts, collectively known as The Ulster Cycle. I enjoy writing historical novels, firmly grounded in a well-researched background, providing a fresh and exciting look into times long gone. I have an empathy with the historical period and I draw upon my experiences of that area and the original documents. I hope, by providing enough historical “realia” to hook you into a hitherto unknown – or barely glimpsed - historical period.

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