The Journey

The Journey

The trip to the city where I was scheduled to work, Xinyang, China, involved several legs. I had planned as well as I could, however, plans often fail, as I will get to. It was our intent to leave on the southbound Amtrak train out of Dunsmuir, CA. The concern with this train is that it has a history of always being late. So much so that it would be hard to find a regular rider of this route that can remember it having ever been on time. I can say with certainty that I have never seen it on time and that I have never spoken to any person who recounted it having arrived on time.

I dealt with this untimeliness, of Amtrak, by working extra time into our schedule. So, when the train that was scheduled to leave at 0:25 in the morning, it did not greatly alter our schedule when it finally arrived at 3:25. In fact, I was somewhat surprised that it was so early.

The train from Dunsmuir, CA (DUN) to Emeryville, CA (EMY) was somewhat uneventful. It was at Emeryville that the plan ran into its first snag. I had called the BART(Bay Area Rapid Transit) office in order to plan our route from EMY to the San Francisco International Airport (SFO). I was told to catch the Emery-go-round shuttle at EMY, ride the light rail to the Mc Arthur Street Station, from there to go to the Balboa Street Station via light rail, and from there I was to catch the final light rail leg to SFO.

AMTRAK at Emeryville

In order to make sure that this route was going to work I called the BART information line in order to insure that the Emery-go-round shuttle did indeed run on Sunday, the day I was scheduled to need it. I was assured that it did run by the person at the BART information line. However, upon arriving at EMY, I discovered the truth of the matter.

I asked at the Amtrak desk where I would catch the shuttle to the Mc Arthur Street station and I was told that there was none (actually, he said, "they lied to you."). I was directed to the bus stop where I could get the information number and the route number for the emery-go-round and find out when its next scheduled run was. When I called that number I was told by a recording that there was no pick up time for that day at EMY.

This was a definite snag in the plan. I was now standing in a train station about forty five miles from where I needed to go and no way to get there, not to mention Zeneta who was already exhausted from moving her luggage. We quickly discovered that the journey would be a very athletic endeavor.

The Amtrak employee told us that there was a BART stop on the other side of the set of tracks (many tracks) in front of the Borders Books, which we could barely see. Further, we were told that if we caught bus 57 that it would take us to the Mc Arthur Street rail station.

So, off we went, trekking off to Borders Books. It may have only been a couple of hundred yards. However, it was a long couple of hundred yards. Then, after arriving at the general vicinity of where we had been sent, I did not see a bus stop.

It was at this point that, while the plan had failed, our luck held. I asked a cheerful looking young woman where the bus stop was and she asked where we were trying to get. We told her that we were trying to get to the Mc Arthur Street Station. We also added that the ultimate destination was SFO.

After pointing to where the bus stop was, she offered to drive us to a more direct station, Oakland West, which would allow us to travel to SFO with no transfers. We took her up on her offer and loaded our luggage into her station wagon. On the way to the station we chatted with her about our intended destination and she mentioned having several friends who were in, or had recently returned from, China. She reported that all of them had enjoyed the experience and that several of them had traveled to China several times, with positive reports from each visit.

The unknown woman who drove us to the BART station (If you know who she is, let us know)

When we arrived at the BART station, she told us which train we would need to take to arrive at SFO. We thanked her and went inside for a rather uneventful ride across the bay.

BART at SFO

At SFO we switched to the terminal train. This was a train that traveled to the various terminals within the station, a much better arrangement than we would find in Los Angeles. Although we had some confusion as to exactly which terminal we needed to get off at, there happened to be a person on the car the knew, based on where we were going, which terminal we would be needing.

This, next, leg of the trip was conducted on United Airlines. It was at this point that we had to dispose of the majority of our food and water. It later occurred to us that we should have put our drinking water in our checked baggage, seeing as we had to retrieve our checked baggage ourselves. The baggage did not check straight though. However, it is unlikely that would have worked due to our being so close to the weight limit on our baggage as it was.

We had to spend several minutes unpacking and repacking our bags in order to make them all fall under fifty pounds (26 kilos, we are having to think in metric). There was a scale available to use in the lobby and its presence was a great help.

It came as no surprise to me that we were marked with the SSSS designation on our ticket. That is the code that is used to indicate which passengers will be screened more extensively [as I type this it is now 06:00, I know this because I can hear a rendition of revelry being played on speakers across the campus]. For a better understanding of the various security codes and the conditions that trigger them, I would recommend reading 2600. 2600 is a magazine is a magazine devoted to user submitted articles on arcane technical topics.

Of course, due to some of my hobbies, several items of mine tested positive on the chemical test and were x-rayed several times. These items would include my camera bag (but not the camera) and my sandals; both of which have probably had quite a bit of exposure to black powder and its Pyrodex substitute.

One thing I did notice, about having been singled out for greater security, was that we got through security far quicker then the people that were in the normal check line. As we approached the lines we were directed to the higher level screening line. As it happened, there was no one else in that line and a large staff was devoted to servicing just that line.

They did have some trouble identifying several of my items, including my Apple Airport Base-station/Router. I also noticed, some time later, that my Fischer SpacePen (an ink pen of an odd design) was also missing. I can only conclude that it was confiscated there. I intend to begin the complaint process as soon as I have an Internet connection. I do not really expect to get my pen back. However, it will serve as an interesting exercise.

From San Francisco we flew directly to Los Angeles (LAX). The strain of constantly carrying her hand baggage was beginning to get to Zeneta, and the athletic part of the journey had not even begun.

At Los Angeles we first picked up our baggage from the carousal, as it was not transferred from United Airlines to China Air, and went looking for the China Air terminal. As we quickly discovered, there is no an easy way to get across LAX. We had to roll our luggage several hundred yards. Then from there we got on a, very crowded, standing only bus. Zeneta had particular trouble with her luggage and we ended up separated for a short while.

After getting off the shuttle bus we then started looking for China Air. At this point it was worth the cost to purchase the use of a cart for our luggage and the walking got much easer. However, there was still a lot of the walking to do.

When we finally located the China Air counter we found it to be closed. Until the China Air staff arrived we never did see the sign, which stated that they opened at 21:30. I suspect that they put it out when they arrived.

By the time that they did arrive there was already quite a line and I am glad that we arrived early. It was only after they arrived that they put out the ropes to define the location of the line. It was somewhat surprising to see how many people were waiting. However, later, when I saw that the 747-400 was full I was not surprised at all.

It was interesting that they did not take our bags. They weighed them, put tags on them, and then returned them to us. We then took them to the baggage drop off area. It was there that the bags were scanned and loaded onto carts

As it was late in the evening, security went very smoothly and quickly. We proceeded to the gate we were to use and I found a place on the ground and napped for a while. I discovered that the power outlets were turned off, unlike SFO and most other major airports, Because of this, I was not able to recharge my computer and gameboy.

The flight itself was a great non-event. It was a waste to request a window seat because the crew insisted that the windows be kept closed throughout the flight. I would expect that this was due to a desire to conserve heat as it is very cold at those high altitudes. However, it did rob me of one of the joys I do have while flying. I was also not able to find a channel on the headset that would allow me to listen to the cockpit radio. On United Airlines it is channel nine.

When we arrived in China, instead of going through the customary US terminal boarding tube we went down a flight of stairs that were rolled up to the plane and took a bus. The bus took us to the terminal. Many flights of stairs, and a few escalators, later we arrived at the visa checkpoint. They wanted the papers that we were to have completed on the plane. These were some generic, "fill in your name," forms. They took these without even looking at them and stamped our visas.

We then proceeded to the baggage carousel, found our baggage and headed for customs. This was the first surprise, considering the impression that many have of China, there was no one there. By this, I mean that no one checked our baggage, or the things we had brought with us, at all.

From the non-existent customs check, we proceeded to the arrival greeting area. Here was the first big scare. There was no one at the arrival greeting area to meet us. It seems that our flight arrived over 30 minutes early (there is a little story here that I will share when I get back).

I found a seating area for Zeneta and continued back to the greeting area to continue to look for our contact. It was at this time that I realized that Jane, our contact, had not told me who I was to meet, or provided me with a description. I was already a bit apprehensive and was not about to go with any person that could not show me that they were there for the purpose of meeting me.

I then heard someone calling out, what sounded like, "Robert." I then looked and saw that while he was holding a sign with a different name on it, his friend was holding a sign that said, "Robert & Zeneta." It turned out that both he was a bit late, and, as stated, the flight was slightly early. However, it happened that there was a delay we met Victor. Victor was our contact from the teaching group. He also provided Zeneta with her first exposure to, what seems to be, the name that she is to be commonly addressed by here in China; Mrs. Robert.

I had told Victor that Zeneta was in great need of water. So, before going and greeting her, he went to get her some water. At some point while he was going for water I had wandered off and so he returned to her and greeted her as Mrs. Robert. This cultural difference left her a bit off balance. However, she quickly discovered that he was speaking to her.

Victor then took us to the train station in Beijing. At this point we were again working at a run because the train was scheduled to leave soon. We ended up having Zeneta wait with the baggage so that we would not be carrying it down, and then back up, several flights of stairs as we went for the tickets.

As we were returning to her with the tickets, I heard a call of, "Robert, Hurry!" It seems that a very pushy man had been surprised to find a foreign woman in the train station and was making a bit of a nuisance of himself. Upon the arrival of two men who, were obviously with her, the unnamed pushy man took off quickly.

It was another run through another transit terminal. At some point, when Victor became concerned with our being able to get to the train on time and to be able to have room to stow the baggage. We then engaged the services of two young women; they looked to be our daughters' ages to carry the bags for us. They immediately took of at a run with our bags and we followed in a new direction that got us to the train on time.

The train was an interesting affair. It looked like something out of the fifties, in a single level, rounded top and car end sort of way. The cars were non-smoking. However, there is smoking in the sections between the cars and the doors between the cars seem to be kept open in order to allow for vendor carts to travel through the train.

The train was what is called a hard sleeper. We arrived a bit late and the choice was that or standing. Standing for a seventeen hour train ride was not something either of us wanted to do. The options seem to be: soft sleeper, this is what we would think of as a normal compartment, hard sleeper, which I will describe in a moment, soft seat, this would be your typical padded seat, hard seat, an unpadded seat, and standing.

The hard sleeper was a bunk. Think of a train car divided into about ten compartments along one side. The compartments had no door and opened into an isle. The isle had jump seats that folded to the wall whenever they were not in use. The compartments themselves had six bunks, three on each side, running widthwise on the train. We were on the top, which is considered the more desirable bunk, and to access our bunks we needed to climb a ladder that is attached to the wall of the car.

I was less than pleased to find that there was not enough room to sit on the bunk. However, this bunk was closest to the air-conditioner. By this time we had been traveling over three days and there had been a lot of vigorous activity. Very simply, my shirt was soaked and I expect that I was smelling rather foul. I went down and sat on a jump seat for a while after the train began to move, taking a few pictures. The conductor than came by and exchanged my paper ticket for a plastic card. Do not loose the plastic card.

Some pictures from the train.

At some point I wandered in search of a toilet, labeled, rather clearly, as, ¡°toilet.¡± This was a bit of a shock. The toilet consisted of a stainless steel trough like arrangement that was recessed into the floor. There was a bucket of water present to assist in flushing. I hit the flush lever on the floor (I assume it was the flush lever, it was in the right place) and a trap in the bottom of the trough opened and I thought I saw light. Out of curiosity I checked again. I was right. The toilet just flushes by dumping out of the train. I then returned to my bunk and went to sleep.

At some point while I was sleeping it appears that I dropped the book that I was reading. The people on the lower bunks passed it up to Zeneta. However, I had placed the plastic card that was given to me by the conductor into the book and it seems to have become lost.

This caused a fair amount of consternation on the part of all parties. It appears that loosing the card is something that is just not done. It was at this point that the conductor showed me where it was supposed to have been kept. He did this by lifting and looking under the end corners of the bunks mat.

It was at this point that I discovered that the people with me on the train could speak English. The man on the jump seat next to the one I was sitting on told me that if I could not find the card I would be charged 5 Yuan(that comes to less than 1 USD). The girl that was with him was trying to be reassuring by telling me that it was not important. I felt rather guilty for having not spoken a word to them on the entire trip. Here I was, very possibly the first American that they had met and I was soaked in sweat and didn¡¯t say a word. I did not feel that this set a good impression. However, there was not much that I was able to do to fix it at that point except to be more aware in the future that many of the Chinese do speak some English.