Hard Sleeper, Part Two I knew this could only be a Chinese train when we did calisthenics in the aisle. It was late the first morning on our 31 hour trip from Beijing to Guilin. Two young women in dark uniforms with bright red sashes draped from shoulder to waist stood at either end of Hard Sleeper Car #13 and led us through the routine. We did neck rolls and stretches, as well as some exercises I had never seen before, like massaging acupuncture points, and hitting together the webby parts of our right and left hands between the thumb and first finger. I found it delightful, just what is needed to get the blood moving on a long journey. Train travel in China is a more disciplined experience than in the West. At 6:30 in the morning, the overhead lights go on and music begins to play . . . no sleeping late! Soon after the group exercises on our trip south, everyone ate lunch -- mostly pre-packaged dried noodles with hot water poured in. Then it was nap time; the uniformed women went up and down the hallway to make certain everyone had their curtains closed. The end of nap time was indicated by renewed music. After dinner, there was more music still and even some comedy shows coming over the loudspeakers, for you were not allowed to go to sleep too early. And then abruptly at 9:30, everything stopped and the lights went out. Despite the horror stories I had heard about Chinese trains, I found the experience positively soothing and orderly. My wife and I did two long rides over Spring Festival: south to Guilin, and then three weeks later, the express train north from Guangzhou back to Beijing. Both times we took the "Hard Sleeper," six berths to an open compartment, which is the middle category of Chinese trains. ("Hard Seat" being the cheapest -- we decided to leave this experience to younger and more adventurous souls than ourselves -- and "Soft Sleeper" being the most expensive, about twice the price of "Hard Sleeper," with four berths to a closed compartment.) Before we left, we had debated the pros and cons of Hard Sleeper versus Soft Sleeper, but the cheaper class turned out to be perfectly comfortable. On the trip south, I had the top bunk, which I am told can be oppressively hot in the summer. But in the winter it was fine, and though I am a Large Foreigner indeed (six feet one inches tall, 200 pounds), I managed to climb the ladder and stretch out without too much of a contortionist act. True, it required strategic planning to turn over from my right side to my left, but for a train it wasn't bad. I've done worse in Europe. Best of all, everything was surprisingly clean -- clean sheets, one clean towel per passenger, clean bathrooms, and the floor of our car must have been mopped eight or nine times during the 31 hour journey by the tireless women in their red sashes. There were some differences between the trip south and our return trip north. I've heard that trains which originate in Beijing are generally better in quality than what you will find in the hinterland, and my limited experience bears this out; the Hard Sleeper we took from Guangzhou was not quite as clean, and sadly there weren't any group calisthenics in the hallway. However, the Guangzhou train was more geared to tourism, and as we passed various points of interest, a voice came over the loudspeaker first in Chinese, and then English, telling us bits of history and what we should return to see if we had a chance. Since my wife and I were the only foreigners on board, as far as I could tell, I thought the English announcements were very thoughtful indeed. We brought too much food along, more than what was necessary as they do sell food on the train. With our potato chips, sandwiches, assortment of Western goodies, even a good bottle of red wine, we spent the daylight hours nibbling and sipping and watching China slip past our window. Small villages, fields and farms, rivers, towns, and a few large cities that were choked with traffic. I've always loved this aspect of trains: peering out upon a passing world that is speeding by. Catching a glimpse of people's lives and houses. A farmer in a straw hat plowing a field behind a water buffalo. A solitary figure walking home at dusk. This was the romance of the journey, what we had come to the far side of the world to see. Clearly not all trains rides in China are so idyllic, particularly in the poorer parts of the country. But my wife and I had a great time -- the only disagreeable part of the experience was figuring out how to buy tickets. (See last week's column.) Once on board, we sped swiftly to our destination, in style and on time. Next week: On Getting Cheated |
