Friday 12 October 2012

Dazed

What to do with yourself when you've just wrapped up a two-year bicycle trip through Europe and Asia? Not much of a head-scratcher when the finish line of that trip happens to be Beijing. Little more than a provincial backwater fifteen years ago, China's capital now easily holds its own on the stage of glitzy world cities. Things move fast here. So fast, in fact, that in certain neighbourhoods it's easier to find a plate of penne alla siciliana than a bowl of stir-fried noodles. And it doesn't stop there. When it comes to basic necessities such as Belgian waffles, fresh coffee and pints of creamy Guinness, Beijing has everything the Chinese hinterland lacks. Even people with a decent command of English are readily available.

Sharing the fun
Strangely, though, the effect Beijing had on me was far from invigorating. The first few days after my arrival were spent in a daze. I would sleep until noon and still feel too tired to leave the hostel, let alone engage in some serious sightseeing. When others were having lunch, I would show up for breakfast and spend the remainder of the afternoon working up an appetite for supper by watching silly films or thumbing through one of the Dutch novels I found lying around. Body and mind approached a state of complete shutdown. I didn't get it. Though rougher than expected, the ride from Taiyuan to Beijing hadn't presented me with anything out of the ordinary. I'd felt as fine as ever. In hindsight I realise it must have been just that. Set yourself a goal, something you truly want to accomplish, and you can draw on reserves you didn't even know you had. Adverse circumstances only steel your determination. With cycling it's no different. No matter how hilly, lengthy, windy or sludgy the ride, there's nothing a good meal and a few hours of shuteye won't fixat least temporarily. But it all adds up. It may not happen until the checkered flag falls, but one day that score will have to be settled. It's then you realise that you aren't the tough cookie you thought you were.

A little alone time
Perhaps it was just as well. My first days in Beijing coincided with something that is known as Golden Week: a week-long holiday that follows National Day on October 1. Now, the Chinese don't get many days off, but when they do they tend to make the most of it. The entire nation crams itself into anything that can fly, ride or sail in order to be set loose on the country's major sights. The word mayhem didn't even begin to describe the situation in downtown Beijing. The narrow lane where my hostel is located was swarming with ecstatic out-of-towners, many of whom sported little Chinese flags on their cheeks. Around the corner, on the street leading to Tian'anmen Square, things were even worse. Thousands shuffled along pavements that were divided into lanes, and the metro station at the southern end of the square was closedprobably to prevent people from trampling each other to death. At night, the hostel bar buzzed with stories not of the splendours of the Summer Palace or the Forbidden City but of the human gridlock that made sightseeing all but impossible.

It wasn't until I went to the International Post Office on the second ring road that the fog in my head cleared a bit. It must have been the look on the face of the lady behind the counter that did it. She sized up the bicycle I'd just wheeled in and shook her head. 'You want to ship that?' she said. 'Do you know what they will do with it?' She raised her arms above her head and pretended to drop a heavy parcel from a ten-storey building. 'It will probably get damaged, so we need you to sign a few forms.'

Time to say goodbye (or farewell?)
I slowly started taking apart the bike, wondering how much it would make at the scrap yard. Fortunately, the man in charge of the packing staff was very helpful. He got off to a bad start when he insisted on using a hammer to remove the handlebars, which, as far as I know, can't be removed at all, but soon made up for it by lovingly bubble-wrapping each part I handed him. When the bicycle box I'd brought turned out to be a shade too small, he niftily crafted an accommodating hump with the help of some cardboard and a few miles of tape.

Back at the hostel I sat down on my bed and picked up the no-brand backpack I'd bought the day before. With most of my stuff shipped offtent, sleeping bag, camping chair, pots, stove, spare partsit felt incredibly light. I pictured myself aboard the Trans-Siberian, gazing out over endless steppes, something weighty like War and Peace in my lap. Thousands of miles and I wouldn't have to lift a finger. Made the past two years look a bit silly.

Suddenly a little alarm went off in my head. I would be leaving in five days. That left me with, well, five days to explore a city as massive as Beijing. I checked my phone. Five pm. Too late to do anything, really. I stretched out on the bed. Four days is plenty of time.