Thursday 27 March 2014

CYCLE TOURING CHINA (2) - THE SOUTH COAST



CHINA (2)

2795 Kilometres - 60 Days

27 January - 27 March 2014


MAP

PHOTOS

E-BOOK



27 January - Keelung, Taiwan – Xiamen, Fujian, China - By Boat

The Cosco Star was far more substantial than envisaged and resembled more a cargo ship than a ferry. As a result, there weren’t many people on board. The interior was quite luxurious, though. Cabins revealed six bunk beds in a cabin, but I was the sole person in my quarters. The ship rolled wildly, and best to stay put.

Reaching Xiamen, China, was around 9h30 and provided an uncomplicated entry into China. I changed my last Taiwanese money, drew a few more Chinese yuan and was excited to see what the area held.

Xiamen came as a bit of a shock; the town was massive, featuring high-rise buildings as far as the eye could see but scarcely a dot on the map. The city was situated on an island with the same name in Fujian’s province and connected to the mainland via a five-kilometre-long bridge. A ferry ran to the nearby Gulang Yu island (the distance couldn’t have been more than a few hundred metres). Still, the long ferry line made me give the trip a miss and instead headed to the nearest hostel. Hard copies of anything, including maps and guidebooks, were increasingly difficult to find, forcing me to invest in a smartphone, finally. Much of the day was spent trying to set the phone up and familiarise myself with my new toy.

Though the internet and Wi-Fi were available, Facebook and other social networks were blocked. Skype worked, and one wasn’t completely cut off from the outside world.

A stroll downtown revealed a bustling and modern city sporting a large and modern department store on practically every corner. Line-shops were selling all the latest gadgets and brand names; there sure was no trace of the extreme poverty of three decades ago. The town was busy but well organised and clean as a pin. Not even a tiny piece of paper could be seen anywhere.

Albeit a coffee culture took root in China, they remained a tea-drinking nation. Tea shops and tea houses abounded, and shops were stocked with beautiful tea sets, mostly quite costly. It further appeared the Chinese favour tiny teapots, barely large enough to hold half a cup of tea.

BaiJaiCun Hostel turned out pleasant, offering comfortable rooms, dorms, and a cosy lounge area. It was located next to Zhongshan Park, an old and well-established one where old men played card games under large overhanging trees. One-child families strolled or took peddle-boats on the canal. All in all, a delightful place to hang out.

The next day was spent exploring the city and a relief to find, amidst the concrete jungle, a real China, a place where people carried their wares in baskets dangling from the ends of bamboo poles. Shopkeepers sat on pavements outside shops, sipping tea from delicate china.

Wandering about, one could find the strangest things; one being a market selling what looked like bits and pieces from almost every endangered species worldwide. Gosh, there were even things resembling rhino horn - maybe it was.

I found myself firmly entrenched in the land of chopsticks and tea, both sold in abundance at markets. I hoped my proficiency with the chopsticks would improve. Being a port city, the fish market was another interesting place, where virtually each sea creature imaginable was on sale. A favourite appeared sandworm jelly. Sandworms were boiled into a jelly mould said rich in collagen. But, wrinkly as I was, I gave the jelly a miss.

 

29 January - Xiamen – Zhangzhou, Fujian - 90 km

What a frustrating day it turned out in this new country. My late departure was due to the assumption the ride would be a short and easy cycle to Zhangzhou. Regrettably, most of the routes tried prohibited bicycles. So it took the best part of the day hunting for alternative ways.

Riding into big and bustling, Zhangzhou was in darkness but, luckily, it sported budget lodging right in the centre. However, frustration in finding routes made me vow to buy a GPS. By the time the panniers were offloaded, a lack of food made me scurry to the nearest food stalls, and on my return, I curled up in front of the TV.

 

30 January - Zhangzhou – Yunxian - 101 km

The next day was much better as Zhangzhou was on the G324 and best to stay on it. Everything was a tad larger than life in China. The G324 was considered a small road and allowed bicycles. However, it still had three lanes in both directions and was excellent.

Even in a mountainous area, the gradient and biking were a pleasure. The weather played along, and the day became a T-shirt and shorts day. Chinese New Year was being celebrated and a noisy affair. The route led past firecracker shooting villages, vast tea plantations and tea houses. Finally, a large mountain came into view with approximately 30 kilometres to go to Yunxian. Still, the Chinese took no prisoners and dug a tunnel if there was a mountain. I was pretty happy about that.

Yunxian had a hotel right in the centre of town, next to the park, which in hindsight, wasn’t the best location. Being Chinese New Year’s Eve, fireworks started as soon as the clock struck midnight, and continued throughout the night. The fireworks of choice weren’t the shoot-in-the-sky-type crackers but the machine-gun-type, which one could buy in big rolls, closely resembling machine gun ammo. You only needed to light the first one, which then sets off the whole caboodle - bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, it went all night. I understood it’s a traditional practice to make as much “din” as possible to chase off evil spirits.

 

31 January - Yunxian – Chaozhou, Guangdong - 122 km

On leaving, the morning mist was lying low over the city. The streets were eerily quiet and covered in red paper from the nightly firecrackers. Even the usual breakfast establishments were still firmly shut. This was because Chinese New Year was celebrated over 16 days and the first day of the new year was a time to honour one’s elders. Hence, families visited their extended family’s oldest and most senior members. Therefore, the road was quiet and the ride turned out to be a good day of pedalling as the weather was excellent and the route flat.

With the hazy weather, the landscape was typical of old pictures of China featuring misty mountains in the background. There was much rubber-necking, and I feared them dislocating their necks the way they spun around to gaze at the foreigner. Later that same day, a chap pulled up and informed me he’d never seen a foreign woman cycling in China, hahaha.

The good conditions made pushing on to Chaozhou, but finding accommodation was a different cup of tea and took almost as long as the day’s ride. As expected, all reasonably priced places were full over New Year. Unfortunately, the most inexpensive hotels only cater to Chinese citizens. In the end, little option remained but to settle for a pricier abode as it was becoming dark and searching to find accommodation one of my pet hates.

Good use was made of the luxury room and all that was available. A walk downtown revealed dumplings and beer. With my bounty bagged, I returned to my digs for a hot and strong shower.

Each culture has its own idea of a bed and what it should constitute. In China, the beds were rock hard, and seemingly the fancier the hotel, the harder the bed. The bed was so hard my hip went numb, and I contemplated getting out my sleeping map.

 

1 February - Chaozhou

Early morning, less expensive digs were discovered at an inn in an old building down one of the alleys. At the fancy Chaozhou, I giggled as; apparently, the staff didn’t know what to do with a person on a bicycle. The porter looked awkward (although keen) trying to help pack the bike. Chaozhou was a historical and cultural city well known for its ancient temples. The remainder of the day was spent discovering its many attractions.

Taking the lack of Western tourists, feeling like the main attraction (other than Chaozhou’s ancient temples) didn’t come as a surprise. Nonetheless, I braved both the crowds and stares and began investigating the alleys and temples of old Chaozhou. The effort was well rewarded as the buildings dated to the Silk Route days. Most remarkable was the Guangi Bridge, originally a 12th-century pontoon bridge. Even though the current bridge was from a much later era, it remained a pretty sight. Not quite the bridge over the River Kwai but interesting, nevertheless. A large section of the old city wall and its gates were still intact.

Paifang Jie (Street of Arches) featured an abundance of street food and thus the place to head when hungry. Moon cakes were plentiful and immensely popular, but I hadn’t yet developed a taste for those strange cakes. It was a relief to discover the western version of Chinese food or western-style fortune cookies didn’t exist in China.

To me, China was a land of contradictions. All things were off the scale massive, yet, they drank tea out of kiddie’s tea sets. They were conservative yet modern. Construction occurred at a tremendous rate; still, an old world prevailed, featuring narrow lanes where residents still used pedicabs (albeit electric-assisted).

China’s one-child policy also seemed a bit of a myth and not uncommon to see people with more than one child. Campaigns encouraged people only to have one child, but many had more than one. I was only told one child received free benefits. Parents had to pay for the other children’s education, healthcare, etc. and this arrangement somehow seemed fair to me. Nevertheless, a person from a one-child family could legally have two children who received free benefits. Families from minority groups could’ve more than one child, but those employed by the government were only allowed one child. I tip my hat to the Chinese as they are the only country where politicians must lead by example.

 

2 February - Chaozhou

Chaozhou was immensely touristy, and rightly so, as the town had a fascinating history dating to the Maritime Silk Route trade era. Chaozhou was most famous for its opera, a traditional art form dating over 500 years and based on folk dances and ballads. Clowns and females were the most distinctive characters in a Chaozhou opera. Fan-playing and acrobatic skills were more prominent than in other types of performances. I didn’t see a show but discovered a tiny shop that made gowns, headdresses, etc., for the operatic stage.

Gongfu tea, first drank in the Song Dynasty, was still in high demand and remained an essential part of Chaozhou’s social life. Teahouses played Chaozhou music which included string instruments, gongs and drums, all very soothing.

 

3 February - Chaozhou – Cheonan - 93 km

Again, the weather was excellent, maybe winter was over, or perhaps it was only a warm spell, but I wasn’t complaining. My route still followed the G324, which ran through built-up areas much of the day. The ride wasn’t scenic, but the area wasn’t mountainous either. I only once attempted an alternative route but ended up going around in circles. I thought better of it and stayed on the G324 until I found a GPS.

China’s development was mind-boggling, but it seemed to enhance the experience when finding “Old China”. However, these finds weren’t around every corner. One had to look carefully, but you could still see pedicabs carting people to and from markets at a pittance. However, the food was reason enough to encourage anyone to visit China. The veggies were fresh, crisp and tasty, and the food included dim sum, noodles, dumplings, wonton soup and more. By evening the bicycle was hardly offloaded, and I hurried to the nearest food vendor - best not to ask what was inside - the food was delicious, and that was all that counted.

The 7 Days Inn impressed with its quality of finishes; pity the Wi-Fi was less than acceptable. At least, the connection allowed uploading a photo to my Photo of the Day project, but then died.

 

4 February - Cheonan – Lufeng, Guangdong - 111 km

The route to Lufeng wasn’t exactly picturesque, as the first part of the ride ran through a built-up area. The countryside wasn’t much better as the fog hung low and one could scarcely see anything.

The Chinese were quite friendly, and those who could speak English usually stopped to chat. A friendly guy on a scooter pulled up and we chatted a while. I enquired regarding a map of Guangdong Province and he said to follow him. We located a map at a bookshop, which he paid - how kind of him.

On arriving in Lugeng, the road passed an inexpensive-looking place and I decided to stay. Each room (even budget ones) came with a complimentary sealed comb, toothbrush, toothpaste and shower cap.

This day marked the fifth day of the Lunar Festival or Chinese New Year and, officially, the end of winter and the first day of spring, and tradition to eat spring rolls on that day. The day further revealed a few taboos: no sweeping the floor and no scissors. People were shooting firecrackers this time to scare away poverty. Still, I assumed the noise enough to scare away poverty and wealth. The news revealed that 108 million people travelled by train during the first week of the holidays. I was happy in a very un-touristy part of China.

 

5 February - Lufeng – Huidong, Guangdong - 135 km

I woke to a drizzle, but the weather wasn’t cold, and the cold front brought a tailwind. With that in my favour, I pushed on and made the best of the good conditions. Nothing much came of the rain, and, by midday, the rain jacket came off.

My route ran past vast fields of strawberries where one could pick your own. I didn’t pick any but did stop to take a photo or two. The traffic was irritating as vehicles drove on the wrong side of the road or turned without looking or warning. The random hooting served no purpose and defeated the object.

The sixth day of the New Year was sending away the poverty ghost. As a result, people discarded old clothes and rubbish and, at roadside shrines, lit candles to lighten the road for the ghost of poverty.

At the first hotel in Huidong, the receptionist ignored me. The Chinese seem to do that. When they don’t like a situation they ignore it, hoping it will disappear. It worked, as I went to the hotel next door. At a reception desk, one would think it fairly obvious what a person was there for. A limited number of questions and answers should conclude the deal. Theoretically, it should be easy. Besides that, the phrase “I want a single room. How much is the room per person per night?” was written down and all they had to do was read it. The poor people got so flabbergasted that they couldn’t even read their language. At least when it came to food, one could point to what you wanted.

 

6 February - Huidong – Zengcheng - 120 km

According to legend, Nüwa was the goddess who created the world. On the seventh day after creating the world, Nüwa created human beings from (obviously) yellow clay. On that day, with the divine power entrusted to her, Nüwa made the clay figurines come to life (I always surmised God was a woman). The seventh day of New Year, therefore, celebrated the event.

Maybe this was an event celebrated at home as the road was dead quiet. As soon as someone could speak English, they would ask: “Why are you travelling alone?” I was subsequently informed that for the average Chinese person travelling alone to a foreign country was the most unsettling and terrifying experience they could imagine.

China was developing at a head-spinning rate, but the ever-present water features, gave even built-up areas a peaceful vibe. My hotel, hence, featured a massive water feature. Water in front and mountains behind was one of the most positive feng shui layouts and what feng shui masters have always sought. Therefore, most buildings, especially hotels, had water fountains or koi ponds at the entrance.

 

7–10 February - Zengcheng – Guangzhou, Guangdong – 80 km

On departing, the route led past the city park, a large and impressive one and the greenery took the sting out of the concrete jungle. Even though new and significant developments were taking place everywhere, these developments included plenty of parks, large and spacious pavements and separate bicycle/motorbike lanes, making these new megacities bearable.

The path west continued over the hills and past rural settlements until Guangzhou arrived. Guangzhou, known historically as Canton (from the Canton Trade Fair), was the capital and largest city in Guangdong province. Situated along the Pearl River, the town had a pretty setting. It was the third largest city in China with a population of 12.78 million.

It took forever to cycle to the hostel. I stuck to the Inner Ring Road like glue, hoping the road would eventually spit me out close to the hostel. On reaching the intersection which turned off the Ring Road to cross the river, I didn’t find a bridge as expected. Still, a ferry carted citizens and bicycles across at a Yuan. I followed suit and uncovered the ferry dock on the other side, right at the hostel door. How lucky was that? The hostel had a pretty setting on the Pearl River, the third-longest river in China, measuring more than 2,000 kilometres.

While unpacking, the weather came in, and I considered it a luxury curling up under a fluffy duvet.

I went from shorts and T-shirt to all bundled up overnight. The cold front brought freezing weather, howling wind and bucketing rain. Happy as the proverbial pig, I watch this dreadful weather through the window.

With time on my hands, I took the plunge and ordered a Garmin, which meant staying in Guangdong for the next few days until it arrived. The delivery time was a mystery, but the weather was miserable and waiting not a big deal.

A break in the weather allowed exploring this delightfully different country. Old yet modern, conservative but up to the minute, frantically busy yet peaceful. I dawdled around this vast city which was downright placid and beautiful in the absence of the masses, whom all seemed to have gone home to their families for the holidays.

This normally atheist nation appeared incredibly open to the “opium of the masses”. Religious stats is a tad of a slippery fish. Still, approximately 30% of the adult population followed Buddhist, Taoist, Christian, Islam or other beliefs and the remaining 70% considered themselves atheist. It must’ve been a highly active 30% as a temple appeared around each corner. The many temples weren’t surprising as China had always been the cradle of religious philosophies like Confucianism, Taoism and Buddhism. These three philosophical teachings played a significant role in shaping Chinese culture.

Although a big and modern city, I assumed it would be an old part as Guangzhou had a rich history dating to the ancient Silk Route days. It didn’t take long to find narrow, winding streets revealing small, dark and dusty workshops where coppersmiths were bent over their work, oblivious of me.

I operated in low gear as I suspected the Garmin would take a few days to arrive. I strolled past antique shops sporting the most exquisite ceramic vases, beautiful furniture and jade carvings, along tree-lined canals and past old colonial buildings, constructed by the British and French in the 19th century after being granted permission to set up warehouses.

 

11-12 February - Guangzhou

I took to the streets, and it became a day of finding small but exciting things. Down a narrow pedestrian lane was the humble house of the Father of Chinese Railways. The union was down a different path for actors playing martial arts and acrobatic roles in Cantonese opera. Interestingly, the house next door was the ancestral house of Bruce Lee, not surprising, as his father was a Cantonese opera actor.

The most exquisite ivory (albeit politically incorrect) carvings were displayed at one of the temples. Whether or not one approved, you couldn’t help but stand in awe of the incredible detail. Sadly, my photography didn’t do the carvings any justice. I further learned ivory trading in China wasn’t open to all. At the beginning of that year, the government destroyed more than six tons of illegal ivory. Ivory trading was legal, provided it came from a government-registered dealer. In addition, each carving had to carry a certificate of provenance.

The Cathedral of the Sacred Heart, built by the French after the Second Opium War, was made entirely of granite featuring two massive towers, each standing 48 metres high. Returning, I stopped at the supermarket but shopping remained challenging.

While already standing out like a sore thumb, taking pictures was equally challenging. Still, at times, it felt like one was only different once. After that, everything you do (acceptable or not) is written off as you being a foreigner.

The temperature plummeted to a mere seven °C, and best to stay put until the weather improved. Quite unbelievable how the weather could change. Frozen solid I wondered what happened to my resolution of “Never to leave the tropics ever again”. The strangest thing was that the hostel didn’t offer heating and was like a fridge. Mercifully, my sleeping bag came in handy and I thought it time to head south.

 

13 February - Guangzhou

Nothing came from the Garmin ordered, and a taxi took me to a large centre selling electronic equipment. One was bound to find something there and locating the Garmin stand was easy. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the one I was looking for. In the end, I bought a pricier one providing loads of features I would most likely never use. However, the store owner was kind enough to install the China map in English and the rest of the evening was spent fiddling with the Garmin. I’d my doubts about this expensive toy.

 

14 February - Guangzhou - Jun’anzhen - 82 km

I was like a child with a new toy and couldn’t wait to fit it on the bike and start riding. From time to time, I checked the map to see if I was on the right track as I didn’t entirely trust the Garmin. However, it worked like a charm and peeped every time one changed direction. Finally, it took me to a place named Junanzhen, which had a hotel, and the rest of the evening was spent downloading the day’s information. Quite a magical little thing.

 

15 February - Jun’anzhen – Chikan, Kaiping, Guangdong – 101 km

I clipped in the Garmin and resumed my ride through the countryside, and what a charming countryside Guangdong province turned out. The way led past ancient-looking villages and along canals until arriving in the Kaiping district.

The landscape around Kaiping was most remarkable, revealing several small but old villages housing fortified multi-storey towers constructed in the 1920s and 30s. The towers (diaolou) served two purposes: housing and protecting against bandits. These towers weren’t exactly ancient - the oldest was barely over 100 years old, but they were pretty remarkable. The towers were scattered around the countryside, and the plan was to visit them the following day. There were approximately 1,833 Diaolou still standing in Kaiping. Twenty of the most symbolic ones were inscribed on UNESCO’s World Heritage List.

 

16 February - Around Kaiping – 40 km

With the weather still bitterly cold and dressed in all my warm clothing, I headed off into the countryside, first to the pretty village of Zili, where most of the towers were.

The story goes: In the mid-19th century things weren’t going too well in the region. Slavery was outlawed in most western countries, which created cheap labour. Many people in the area were recruited. Good pay and working conditions were promised. However, workers were made to work as labourers under terrible conditions. Of the millions of Chinese workers who left many died, and only a few became wealthy and returned. They brought with them wealth and exotic ideas. The towers were built to protect their families from bandits, flooding and Japanese troops.

 

17 February - Chikan – Yangjiang – 95 km

On leaving Chikan, the weather was foggy and not much to see. The going was easy, and I’d no reason to stop as the breeze was from behind. A few towers were sprinkled about, but nothing interesting happened. With the iPod stuck in my ears and to the tune of good old “Brucey”, I stepped on the pedals and cycled the 100 kilometres to Yangjiang.

 

18 February - Yangjiang – Dianbai – 105 km

The mornings were always foggy and once I attached a flashing light and donned my bright yellow rain jacket I proceeded in a westerly direction towards Hainan, where the climate was rumoured warmer. Even if not cold, it started raining, and I pulled into Dianbai.

 

19-21 February - Dianbai – Zhanjiang – 113 km

The stretch between Dianbai and Zhanjiang was effortless biking, albeit still misty and with light rain. With little of interest, I played with my electronic toys, of which I had a growing number by then. None, however, did me any good, and the fancy Garmin was still to find me a meaningful place or route. Google Maps on my phone did a better job at finding things.

The day turned out another 120-kilometre ride, and on slinking into Zhanjiang, I encountered a bridge where cycling wasn’t allowed. The Garmin pointed me to the ferry port where bikes and motorbikes were ferried across and onto a cheap(ish) hotel. I, subsequently, discovered it not a river but an inlet of the South China Sea.

A desperate need to do laundry called for staying an additional day. Unable to find a laundromat, I started doing the laundry, but the hotel staff came to the rescue. However, it was unclear when the laundry would be returned. Shopping, typically, took double the time than anywhere else, and I spent nearly the entire day finding the few items needed.

My abode was right opposite the market, making it easy to pop in to find a bite to eat. But, convinced the meal contained dog meat, I went without supper.

 

22 February - Zhanjiang – Leizhou – 60 km

Luckily, the laundry was returned in time. As the internet stated, a ferry operated between Zhanjiang and Hainan. So, I searched for the jetty. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much information regarding the boat and no sign of it; maybe, it didn’t exist. A small road ran further south in Hainan’s direction, but being already late, I didn’t think I would reach the island before dark and settle for a night in Leizhou.

 

23 February - Leizhou – Haikou, Hainan Island – 105 km

I hadn’t seen any westerners since my arrival in China a month ago. Thus, not unusual to get a few stares as I was completely different from the Chinese, in practically every way. My every move was scrutinised and the fact that I was travelling solo not something the Chinese could wrap their heads around. While they didn’t say it, it looked as if they felt sorry for me, you could see it in their eyes. Why someone would want to take a vacation to a foreign country by themselves wasn’t something the Chinese understood.

People on scooters could cause accidents the way they swung around to look, and people in cars slowed down, holding up their toddlers to get a glimpse at the strange woman. Likewise, stopping in a village to get a drink was something of a circus. Some were curious, and others were scared; several came closer, a few kept their distance, some pointed, and others giggled. A little boy summed it up nicely - he looked up in surprise, and all he could utter was, “WOW”. His little sister was utterly dumbstruck; her eyes went big, and her mouth fell open, quickly retreating a few steps.

Not having spoken to anyone in weeks, I feared losing my voice. With the iPod blaring in my ears, I sang along at the top of my lungs. I sped off over the hills bellowing the lyrics of “Cocaine” and “I Shot the Sheriff”. I got a few more strange looks, but I threw in a “Ni-hao” and a wave and continued belting out songs’ lyrics from yesteryear. And to think, all while entirely sober.

 

24–28 February - Haikou, Hainan

I arrived to do the dreaded visa extension and paid for two nights’ accommodation at the Banana Hostel. First thing the following morning, I hunted down the Public Security Bureau (PSB). I couldn’t believe I’d been in China an entire month. Locating the office was easy, but the counter was closed and I was told to return after 14h30. I further required a note/letter of sorts from the hostel. After obtaining the necessary items, I returned to the PSB. The process consisted of a fair amount of “form-filling-in”. Once photographed and fingerprinted, I was told to collect the visa in four days. Fortunately, Haikou had loads of interest and thus enough to keep me occupied.

I stayed in Haikou and did little apart from meandering the city’s old part revealing many antique shops. The amble also gave plenty of time to play with the macro lens.

Four days passed and, eventually, time to pick up the visa. Returning, I followed my nose down crooked alleys and curving streets. The smell of fresh dumplings and roadside barbecues hung in the air as old men played board games in parks while cigarettes dangled from their lips.

 

1 March - Haikou – Wenchang – 109 km

Hainan was a popular cycling destination amongst young people, and I encountered many college kids en route to Wenchang. Unfortunately, the ride was unimpressive, and even the beach area was horrible, revealing far too many high-rises and dust from more developments being constructed. In addition, the ride was windy, and I battled into a stiff breeze.

 

2 March - Wenchang - Bo’ao - 66 km

In the morning, a short and pleasant day of pedalling led to Bo’ao, through small villages and past farmlands where crops were ready to be harvested. Fish farms were going ten to a dozen, and many small shrines lined the road where devotees burned incense to their preferred deities.

As the island was a popular multi-day cycling destination, I again met a few cyclists biking around the island. Bo’ao had a cheapish room, dumplings and beer, making it an excellent place to overnight.

 

3 March - Bo’ao - 50 km

Twenty-five kilometres beyond Bo’ao, I realised I didn’t have my GoPro. Convinced the camera was left behind, I returned to the hotel in Bo’ao. Once there, of course, there was no sign of the camera but I stayed the night, only to uncover the camera in one of my panniers!

A short stroll led to the beach that sported a temple rich in colours, textures and light. Nevertheless, the deities were enough to put the fear of God into anyone. Returning, I stumbled across a delightful little coffee shop housed in an old, traditional stone house. A lovely, leafy garden provided wooden tables under giant umbrellas. Inside, the cafe was chock-a-block with antiques and arty bits and bobs. Last but not least, the coffee was served in real china.

 

4 March - Bo’ao – Xinglong - 95 km

The many cyclists encountered were all on their way to Xinglong. As the town was said, the location of a hot spring that sounded pleasant, I followed suit. Not feeling too well - it must’ve been something I ate - I pushed on to Xinglong. The cyclists I met earlier that day had already located budget accommodation; they showed me where to go.

Xinglong was over-developed and touristy, and I didn’t even go in search of the well-known hot spring as I could imagine what that would be like. Instead, seeing I’d pick up a knee problem, I spent the evening indoors.

 

5-7 March - Xinglong – Sanya - 118 km

There wasn’t much one could do concerning the knee, and though the map indicated a hilly stretch, I cycled over the mountains. The strange thing was the knee was 100% while riding, weird.

A pleasant cycle led past rural villages and farmlands before hitting a big and lively Sanya with its 20-kilometre-long stretch of beach. Afterwards, I went straight to Dadong Hai, where the map indicated a hostel. Backpacker Hostel turned out pleasant and tucked away behind high-rises and slap-bang in the middle of the action - a real haven.

The following day was spent doing close to zero, only wandering to the beach and around the corner to find food. Surprisingly enough, the area was highly built-up, and the dominant languages, both spoken and written, were Chinese and Russian. With sunshine all year round, temperatures hovered around 25°C, even in January and, consequently, immensely touristy. The area produced pearls in abundance and was sold all over the place. Giant clams were considered endangered, but shells were sold at all the shops.

Sanya was an excellent place with interesting people to talk to, and one more day was spent in town. Still concerned about my knee, a knee guard was purchased. I rubbed the knee with locally purchased Chinese lotion and slipped on the tight knee guard, most likely made to fit thin Chinese legs and not my stompers.

 

8 March - Sanya – Huangliu - 103 km

I packed up, took a few pics in the company of the hostel staff, and started out through the town area in a westerly direction. Thirty-five kilometres beyond Sanya, a large Buddhist temple complex begged to be explored.

The place was swarming with tourists, and thousands milled about, and I couldn’t get my head around the hefty entrance fee to such a fake and artificial setup. Nevertheless, I joined the madness, snapped a few pics, and then quickly escaped. It needs mentioning that at the centre of this spectacle stood a 108-metre-tall Buddha statue on a human-made island, larger than the Statue of Liberty!

The rest of the day was more “normal” – past small hamlets until spotting a welcoming-looking guesthouse featuring a few mobile food carts and I called it a day.

 

9 March - Huangliu – Changjiang - 128 km

It turned out a pleasant cycle through a beautiful countryside past small traditional villages where farmers still ploughed the field in old-fashioned ways. Changjiang offered accommodation on the main road, signalling the end of the day’s ride.

These new and large cities weren’t as daunting as they appear from further afield. Seeing they were well planned, things were where one envisaged. The roads were wide and the traffic flowed freely. The separate cycle- and motorbike lanes made biking easy.

 

10 March - Changjiang – Jialai - 116 km

Time was spent packing up before pointing the bicycle in the direction of Haikou, again meeting other cyclists and a journalist who took a few shots and asked a few questions. The scenery was particularly lush and green. I assumed it was a tree-planting project, as trees were everywhere, and thought it just a little too organised to be natural. However, the authorities further beautified the road with dense and colourful plants, making the ride pleasant. Not thinking one would find accommodation along the route, it was a surprise to stumble upon a small village sporting 50-yuan rooms.

As was the norm by then, I popped across the road to get a takeaway meal, as eating under such intense scrutiny remained uncomfortable. While waiting for the noodles, bystanders didn’t take their eyes off me for a second. Being stared at like that was pretty embarrassing. They didn’t even blink while inspecting my feet and hair and were shocked by my bare arms, which had been clearly exposed to the sun.

 

11 March - Jialai – Haikou - 108 km

Due to the perfect weather – overcast but not cold, I set off in high spirit. The way ran past many small and scenic villages where I stopped to buy lunch but ended up carrying the food to Haikou (due to the staring), where the Banana Hostel was my abode of choice.

 

12 March - Haikou

Outside Haikou was a volcano park, and, although not expecting much, I still investigated this area. According to geologists, the last eruption occurred roughly 13,000 years ago. One could walk up to the old crater rim which overlooked the countryside. I could see other craters from the rim in the distance, said almost 36 in total.

Far more exciting was the nearby Rongtang village; a historic, lava-rock village built entirely from volcanic rock. The town was constructed roughly 900 years ago. Rongtang was largely abandoned, but a few elders live in this unique historic village. Besides, the area still had old lava tunnels. A 90-year-old lady (all bent over) offered to show me the tunnels. So, we set out; homemade torch in hand (bamboo, cloth and paraffin). Many of these caves were interconnected and were used as hiding places from the Japanese during the war.

 

13-14 March - Haikou

The days came and went, and I hung around the hostel, not doing a great deal. A crowd from the Hash House Harriers (primarily Australians) were in town for their annual get-together - they were a pleasant bunch.

There wasn’t much one could do losing a lens cover but take a walk downtown to find another one. The stroll was a pleasant one through the old quarters and city park. The parks were large, lush and always provided plenty of water, making them peaceful places to stroll and watch people do Tai-chi. The pavements were lined with hawkers, selling colourful umbrellas, steaming pots of corn-on-the-cob, and rice in banana leaves.

 

15 March - Haikou, Hainan – Beihai, Guangxi - By ferry

Departing the hostel to cycle to the port, I ran into a German couple on bikes. We chatted a while before I realised they had a small child in the trailer. Their 4-year-old daughter was quite happy sitting in the trailer listening to stories—what a remarkable family. I could barely get myself up the hills, let alone pull a child and trailer.

Instead of returning to the mainland the way I came, I assumed it more interesting to go via Beihai, slightly more West, saving me backtracking the 150 kilometres to Zhanjiang.

Surprisingly, I was somewhat of a celebrity on the ferry. Apparently, a few days earlier, an article covering my travels was printed in the paper, and just almost everyone knew I was South African. Mainly they were astounded that I’d sold all my possessions. My newfound fame got me a cabin all to myself. Being an overnight ferry, we only departed at around 7 p.m.

 

16-17 March - Beihai, Guangxi – 6 km

The ferry arrived in Beihai, dead on time, but I couldn’t locate the bike lock key. Give me strength, where could it have gone in such a small cabin? There wasn’t anything to do but cut the lock. I met two German ladies travelling by bicycle at the pier waiting to catch Hainan’s ferry. They started off hitchhiking but somewhere along the line bought bikes and continued their travels by bicycle. By then, they’d been travelling the past year and a half. From the harbour was a short six-kilometres to 21 Degree Hostel, situated right in the old part and a convenient place to stay.

Beihai had a wonderful old part, a bustling river and fishing harbour, making exciting sightseeing. Wandering through the historic quarters, music coming from an open doorway called for an investigation and I was promptly waved in—what a pleasant thing to sit there and listen to them rehearsing.

By morning, fog and a howling wind made staying put. The market was, as always, a fascinating and colourful place. The veggies were fresh and plentiful; as foreseen, no Chinese market could be complete without its woks. Only the seafood was slightly out of the ordinary, as they seemingly ate the strangest sea creatures. Then, on the other hand, it could’ve been bait. The oysters weren’t eaten raw (like barbarians do) but cooked on coals and sprinkled with spices.

The Chinese food was delicious, super fresh, crisp and tasty. You could pick your seafood from the tank, which the chef then cooked in whatever manner you preferred.

 

18 March - Beihai – Qinzhou, Guangxi - 106 km

Leaving Beihai, the fog slowly rose, revealing small and quaint fishing villages. To my one side was the ocean and to the other, an inlet or river with picturesque and busy harbours. The path eventually left the coast and slowly veered inland through dense forestry plantations and past sawmills and other wood-related works.

I stopped next to a lady on her tricycle at the traffic light. I said “Ni-hau” and she said “Hello,” and we both laughed as we knew these two words were the total of our foreign language vocabulary. She continued in Chinese, and I replied in English: “Yes, I am going to Nanning and I was from South Africa.” One never knows, maybe that’s what she asked. Then, the light changed, and we waved goodbye like old friends.

 

19-20 March - Qinzhou – Nanning, Guangxi - 127 km

Shortly after departing Qinzhou, the route deteriorated as it veered inland over the mountains to Nanning. Not much further, the road turned into a muddy, potholed mess, to such an extent that it required walking the bike through the thick mud.

Covered in mud, I battled onwards, fearing it would be impossible to reach Nanning that day. Then, as if this wasn’t enough, a bee stung me right on the jaw. Halfway to Nanning, a restaurant provided an outside tap, allowing spraying of the bicycle down. Still, soon the chain and gears were all clogged again.

This condition prevailed until virtually 30 kilometres from Nanning. Finally, I crawled into Nanning at around 18h00, covered in mud and dead tired, only to find the hostel I’d in mind had closed down. Give me strength! Not eating all day, I was in no mood to search for a different hostel and booked into the first hotel spotted.

In the morning, feeling refreshed, I cycled to the nearby Green Forest Hostel, where a room was more expensive than the hotel (I could’ve taken a dorm bed, which would’ve been way cheaper, but I had an evil plan). But, at least there were people to talk to, and I could do laundry and wash my muddy panniers (in the shower). It turned out to be Spring Day and a good day to do spring cleaning. I stayed at the hostel as they arranged Vietnamese visas at no added cost. Vietnam was within striking distance, and the plan was in heading that way. So, after handing in the passport, all I’d to do was wait.

 

21 March - Nanning

With plenty of time, a stroll into town revealed an outdoor store. The intriguing thing was that instead of the usual lightweight knife, spoon and fork set used for camping or hiking, the shop sold chopsticks and a spoon. Now, why did that surprise me?

A cool thing about hostels is that they are mainly well situated, close to almost anything. The Green Forest was no exception and, best of all, close to the night market – my favourite eating place. The only negative thing was they were located on the third floor, and one had to schlep the bike and panniers up two sets of stairs. Here, as in other countries, they refer to the ground floor as 1st floor, then 2nd floor and then 3rd floor, whereas, at home, we usually say ground floor, 1st floor, and 2nd floor.

I eagerly awaited the night market’s opening to get my bowl of wonton soup. I understood the literal English translation of the word “wonton” was swallowing a cloud; quite an apt description when looking at the dumplings floating in the soup, and they were delicious.

 

22 March - Nanning

Determined to get pictures of modern Nanning, I enthusiastically started down the pedestrian mall, past lines and lines of designer stores.

China was a wonderful country, and I was in awe of its achievements. They managed to raise over 400 million people out of extreme poverty in 20 years - 14 years ahead of their 2015 target date. Of course, people quickly point out China’s negatives, but their success in the battle against poverty was undeniable.

Back to my story of the day, there were opportunities to capture modern Nanning. Still, behind MacDonald’s, Pizza Hut and KFC were tiny alleys. I weakened and headed off down the dark and narrow lane. The area was a fascinating one. People still pushed building materials in three-wheeled carts, laundry hung from lines strung across the cobblestone lanes, and traditional single-storey dwellings were adorned by red lanterns. Interesting-looking doorways led to unknown destinations and sagging tiled roofs, crooked windows and doors made far more interesting pictures than the modern structures. Great was my excitement when, by rounding a corner, I came upon the silversmith hard at work, melting and pounding tiny silver pellets into fine jewellery.

My passport and Vietnamese visa returned, leaving only three more visa pages, meaning I was in dire need of a SA Embassy.

As the day wore on, I wasn’t entirely sure going to Vietnam was such a good idea. Having already cycled Vietnam, the only reason for going there was to pass the time (waiting until the weather improved) before heading to Shanghai, situated in the opposite direction. However, the more I looked at my options, the more apparent it became that it would be a costly diversion, whatever my decision.

 

23 March – Nanning - Tong’ an - By bus

Emerging, I still wasn’t 100% sure which direction to go. The first stop was at the train station to inquire regarding a train to Xiamen, where I started, and from where the plan was to head east. It turned out no train operated between Nanning and Xiamen (or at least not one on which one could take the bicycle). I’m convinced there was, but it involved a change of trains and could’ve been too much for the Chinese to explain in their limited English.

This was all too much trouble, and better to head out of town in the direction of Vietnam. In the process, the road led past the bus station. I stopped to enquire, and by 14h30, was on a sleeper bus en route to Xiamen. How was that for a change of plans? Actually, it wasn’t a change of plans. The idea from the start was to head west to Nanning before returning to Xiamen and then cycle towards Shanghai to catch a ferry to South Korea.

The bus was comfy and provided (small) individual beds (barely wide enough for me), but at least one could be horizontal. How long the ride would take wasn’t clear, and all settled in for the (anticipated) long haul. Said an express bus, we hardly stopped. Only once, at around 20h00, did the bus stop, allowing all to grab a bite to eat

 

24 March - Tong’an, Fujian – 20 km

At around 7h00, I woke with a start and was informed I’d reached my destination. The bus had stopped beside the highway, and disorientated I hurriedly stumbled off the bus. I felt somewhat abandoned being left like that.

My phone told me I was twenty kilometres outside Tong’an and luckily didn’t have to approach anyone to ask where I was. Imagine that! Far too tired to cycle onto the next town, I opted for the shorter 20 kilometres ride to a nearby hotel. I put all my devices on charge, had a shower, got something to eat, and had a nap.

 

25-26 March - Tong’ an – Quanzhou, Fujian - 90 km

The following day was effortless riding to Quanzhou, and what a large city. It took pedalling quite some time before eventually crawling into what was known as the old part.

My second month’s visa was to expire in three days. So I thought extending the visa in Quanzhou was a good idea before proceeding. Still, the person dealing with the visa wasn’t in the office and I was told to return the following day.

The old part turned out interesting and offered several beautiful temples. The parks were pleasant and well planned; people were running, walking, and boating, and the parks even had piped music. There were three parks in the less than three-kilometre walk to the old mosque.

In the morning, I returned to the police station – this time to be told they didn’t do visas at that branch and I wondered how they didn’t know this the previous day. They kindly gave me a ride and then pointed me in the direction of the visa office.

Sadly, I was informed they couldn’t extend an already extended visa. So now, what was that all about? I subsequently learned that Quanzhou was notoriously problematic for extending visas.

I could’ve tried at another town but ran out of time and couldn’t waste one more day. My best option (I presumed) was to retreat to Hong Kong and apply for a new Chinese visa once there. At the bus station, a ticket was purchased to Hong Kong. The bus only departed the following day at 21h00 and I understood it would reach the border after 10 hours.

Once all the formalities were done, enough time remained to investigate the area. In the process, I came upon an old mosque. The Qingjing Mosque was built in 1009 and is the oldest in China.

 

27 March - Quanzhou

I was operating in low gear as there wasn’t much more to do but drink coffee and visit old temples. Eventually, the time came to board the bus; luckily, it was a “sleeping” bus, sporting little bunk beds, and one could lie down quite comfortably.