The diary of a Scot in Amsterdam

The encroaching winter about which I last wrote has caught up with us. We have just departed from Xi’an, having spent three days comfortably ensconced in about the nicest youth hostel imaginable. And I must say that we had earned it.

Two days before reaching the city, the neighbouring province of Shanxi experienced the largest snowfalls in recorded history overnight, with this province, Shaanxi (note the subtle spelling difference) being not far behind. As might be expected, this has caused us more than a few problems.

That same morning, having camped the night before quite high up in the hills, we awoke to find our tent surprisingly warm. The reason for this quickly became apparent – a thick layer of ice had formed on the outside of the tent, acting as a layer of insulation. This was of no consequence in itself, except that the same thing had occurred to our bikes. So much snow had fallen overnight, and subsequently frozen, that the gears, chains, and brakes were completely stuck fast. This was a new and most vexing problem, for which there were no ready solutions. After an hour of hacking away with a tent peg at the ice, we could at least move, albeit with only one gear working on each bike, and one set of brakes. We gingerly set off up the remaining few hundred metres to the top of the mountain.

There had been no grit or salt spread on the road, and the large volume of heavy goods vehicles had thus reduced it to a river of brown slush and crushed ice. The second of these was particularly dangerous because it looked just like lumps of snow, until the front wheel hit it and suddenly skidded to one side or the other. This was quite difficult and probably quite irresponsible to ride on, and in any case the bikes both began to freeze up once again every time we stopped for even a few minutes. I must admit that we were totally unprepared for such a situation, since even the cold period at the very beginning of the trip was nothing compared to this. The seasons have truly come full circle, and a bit further.

An hour or so later, at a restaurant next to a petrol station, we were able to get some boiling water to pour over the frozen mechanisms. Unfortunately, the effect of this proved to be quite temporary, since everything would simply freeze up again once again shortly afterwards. It was just about possible to continue moving, but the pace was very slow. We decided to cut the day short, and check into the first hotel that we came across.

A shower (the first in a week), a warm bed, and and early night worked wonders for us, and a night indoors did the bicycles no end of good too. The next day remained cold, although not as much as the day before, and we were finally able to make it to Xi’an. We discovered that numerous guests at the hostel where we were staying had been stuck in the city for several days; the airport had been closed due to the bad weather, leaving tens of thousands of travellers stranded. It certainly made me quite pleased with our progress.

This cold snap was very sudden its arrival. Just a few days before, we had been comfortably sitting in the sun drinking tea in the afternoon, oblivious of what was to come. But now, with this ordeal behind us, we are prepared for more of the same, and worse.

In the first few days after leaving Lanzhou, we had actually experienced much warmer temperatures than before our arrival there. Despite this, I bought some thick long underwear from a market in a village on the way. This makes me feel like quite and old man, but does the job nicely.

In addition to this, I bought a huge green coat of the sort frequently worn here by motorcyclists. It is extremely heavy, and feels as if your are wearing a warm woolen blanket. It will be great for our arrival back in Holland in the middle of winter, and hopefully I will be the only person in Amsterdam to own one. I later bought a hat with ear-flaps to complete the outfit, making me look like an authentic communist soldier.

I am pleased to say that I managed to haggle a bit with both purchases – contrary to my expectations, it has proven to be possible to converse in Chinese at a basic level. The numbers are in any case quite straightforward, and hand signals can be used when verbal communication fails. The only problem is that when you get a few words right, they immediately start talking very fast as if you understand everything. This naturally leaves me open-mouthed and staring in embarrassed ignorance.

What I particularly like about my new coat is that, in contrast to all the high-tech composite-fibre silicon-coated stuff we have with us, it is completely low-tech – it’s just a whole lot of cotton. In this respect it’s a typically Chinese solution, one of many such ingenious pieces of technology I have seen recently. Another example is the solar-powered water cooker (see photo), which consists of something shaped similarly to a satellite dish but coated in tiny mirrors, with an arm and metal hoop to hold a big aluminium kettle. The idea is of course to focus the rays of the sun onto one spot, and so get boiling water for free. In one village we passed through, it seemed as though everyone had one. And for keeping the tea warm without the need for fuel or electricity nearby, there is a small stove consisting of an outer jacket of O-shaped ceramic bricks, into the middle of which is dropped a stack of red-hot cylindrical bricks which have been heated elsewhere. Whatever needs to be kept warm is simply laid on top, and stays hot for hours and hours.

The landscape during these days was quite stunning, as the road wound first up steep hillsides, before diving back down through steep-sided canyons and over high viaducts. We were luckily able to find our way onto the new motorway which ran parallel to the old road – in fact it was so new that is was not even open. We were the only traffic besides construction vehicles on this wide, flat road, which was a very refreshing change from the constant blaring of horns and potholes that we otherwise have to deal with.

Another advantage of travelling along this new motorway is that an impressive series of tunnels have been blasted through the mountains on the route, cutting out a lot of climbing. Along with the rest of the road, these are more or less complete but not entirely so, which left me a bit apprehensive about suddenly coming across a wall of rock as we dodged our way in the darkness past loose concrete tiles and teams of workers installing lighting. But in all cases, sometimes after up to half an hour underground, we emerged safely once again into the grey light of the Chinese autumn. It felt a bit like cheating to have dodged so many high peaks in this way, but we have certainly earned it after all the hills we have climbed on this trip. We love tunnels!

Our luck with this new road finally ran out after about five days, when we found ourselves on a bridge high above a river valley, with a section as long as a football pitch missing from the middle. The resulting confusion as we attempted to find another route caused us to become quite lost and cycle for serval hours up a hillside in the wrong direction. This was our second major wrong turning since Lanzhou, and the source of much frustration. We are on quite a tight schedule in order to reach Hong Kong before our visa runs out, and we cannot afford the time for such mishaps.

But unfortunately there would be one more such occurrence before we arrived in Xi’an, leaving us and our bikes caked in mud and stuck on some unpaved road somewhere in the suburbs of the city. But since then, so far, so good.

As we arrived at the Xiang Zi Men youth hostel in Xi’an, I was suddenly surprised by the presence of Humphrey, the English cyclist whom we had met in Kashgar. I had the suspicion that we may run into one another once again on the road, although I had expected it to perhaps have happened earlier. It was certainly good to catch up and swap a few travel stories. He’s also heading for Hong Kong, so there’s a good chance we will meet for third time, if we all make it there.

Xi’an is the biggest city we have passed on the journey so far. It is also the most westernised of any we have encountered in China, possessing more familiar brands than ever before, as well as a surprising number of English speakers. It feels more and more as if we are slowly creeping back towards the known world.

But of course, there remain many, many new and strange things to be seen. What I find the most endlessly fascinating about China is the constant surprises available to eat – there are so many delicious things that I have seen once, and then never again. Often it can be something quite simple – the other day, I ate a small circle of dough with fried egg on it, filled with spicy sauce and some salad. Delicious. Even simpler, today I bought a block of tofu from a stall next to the road, which had simply been sliced halfway through in order to create small blocks which could be torn loose with chopsticks, with a little chili sauce on top. Very quick to serve, and very welcome on a cold afternoon in the mountains.

The day before we left Xi’an, I took a bus to see the other great Chinese marvel besides the Great Wall – the Army of Terracotta warriors. Naturally the whole experience is greatly prejudiced by the its fame as the “eighth wonder of the world”, and the subsequent high expectations threaten to lead only to disappointment, but I must admit that it is quite stunning – especially the view when entering the largest hall, and being confronted by the vast army of silent fighters, thousands strong. No two are alike, and it is hard not to be impressed by the megalomaniacal scale of the enterprise. I think that it is fair to say that only in China could such a thing have been done. Once again, I feel very far away from home, and once again, I find it hard to believe that I got here by bicycle. It makes the world seem not so very large at all.