Taiyuan
[28-08-2000]
Jo: Despite the barrages of cursing that accompanied our last voyage by Cylcorickshaw, we were led into another dubious excursion by cyclo-put-put-sweat-sweat-fall-off-because-of-fat-laowais. The hotel owner arranged it and I didn't completely understand the negotiations but he had been so complementary over my `masterful' use of Chinese, I didn't want to disillusion him. Ed: I am sure he meant well by sending us to a motorway junction in the slummy bit of town without actually saying why, but when Jo and I got to this bit of road we naturally demanded to be taken to the bus station, because obviously we wanted to get a bus, and not just stand by the road. The ensuing conversation would have sounded like this to the Chinese crowd that formed around us (vocab: laowai = foreign twat), the roles are reversed in a way which tries to enlighten the viewer as to what we sound like to Chinese people: Rickshaw Bloke: Right, where's mi ten sheets then my old china? (this is supposed to be sort of cockney cab driver ish -ed) This continued to get more and more heated until Jo flashed a `pony' at the cab driver, I mean cyclorickshaw bloke, and then he just laughed at us and we pissed off to the noisy crowded bus station. Here we got on the bus, drove around town meaninglessly for a quarter of an hour, then after a while pulled up to this junction place out of town where some people effortlessly got on the bus. I hate it when they are right. Jo and Ed's rules for using cyclorickshaws: Taiyuan is a very close equivalent of Birmingham, even down to the concrete park in the middle, with more than its fair share of mediocre hotels, of which we saw a selection totalling 4 before finding one with a particularly nice view of the neon neon (explanation forthcoming, I promise) and was reccommended by the Rough Guide (although we ony found this out afterwards, being the trailblazers we are). We went to a posh restaurant for dinner (it had tablecloths) and have both sworn never to rise so far above our stations again after spending the evening feeling bad for dropping food and eating in a style that, while acceptable in most quality streetside establishments, did not really altogether suit the businessman's enclave that we found ourselves in. Felt even worse for not giving the little boys outside McDonalds any money, but have decided to buy them some food if we see them again. Ed is campaigning for burgers, whilst I have a preference for fresh fruit and vegetables (ponce -ed). Now the end of our two hours of e-mail is upon us, and we are off to skulk around parks, avoiding the hotel staff we inadvertantly offended yesterday (they all still think that we are `thinking about it for a bit') before we catch the sleeper out to Zhengzhou tonight.
Laowai: Wha? We no want to be here. We want go station of bus bus yes?
Rickshaw Bloke: Nah mate, you want to catch the bus 'ere don't ya? Lot quicker.
Laowai: No no. We no want be here. We go to cheese station yes yes? Please we are studerent and no much money. Please please yes?
Rickshaw Bloke: Now look 'ere you bunch of slags, the boss told me to come 'ere to catch the number 42 to Taiyuan, oright?
Passer-by: Yeah, Steve's right. You don't want to catch the bus at the bus station, you want to get it here. Now stop acting like a bunch of muppets and get out of the cab.
HTH, HAND (hope that helps, have a nice day).
The Bus Journey, and Taiyuan
Jo: We are now on the run from the Public Security Bureau (PSB) and are being held on charges of introducing `Kid Loco' to the masses. Ed was listening to his walkman on the bus and caught the eye of a minute Chinese lady who proceeded to yank on the wire whilst assaulting us both with grapes and weird brown fruit. The assault soon stopped (she was actually offering them to us, just using a rather loud voice and baring her teeth) and by the end of the journey we were all pretty good mates which was vehr cool.