Recently Rory and I have had the pleasure of a few train journeys throughout China and have been quietly impressed by the efficiency and the level of service provided. I wouldn’t say I’m an expert on long distance public transport, but compared to the India or Thai equivalents the Chinese trains are like Bentleys. I can fit comfortably in the beds, they run on time, a lady comes around every half hour offering fresh fruit and someone's sent to wake you up 20 minutes before your arrival so you don’t miss your stop. It all seems to work splendidly and to top it all off its cheaper than a hostel which means you get a free nights accommodation as you travel, sort of.
To acquire a ticket for these trains you have to book a couple of days in advance so we headed off to the station in Pingyao to make enquiries. We had hired an orange tandem bicycle for the day, which is a story in itself, as the station was a fair distance form our hostel, which meant I had to leave Rory outside on guard as I went in to book the tickets. As a rule of thumb, you can normally get away with a fare bit of pointing, signing numbers with your fingers and waving cash around but today this was not the case. After joining the back of the queue and waiting 15 minutes for my turn at the counter I started my pointing routine. This method hadn’t let me down before but for some reason the ticket lady wasn’t playing along. She kept asking me over and over the same question, I’m guessing it was a question, and pointing at her screen. I had no possible inclination of what she was trying to tell me. Another 3 long minutes of pointing method didn't pay off and I got the impression I was upsetting a few people waiting in the queue, so I accepted defeat and walked back to tell Rory the news.
Just as I’d left the counter a small Chinese girl walked towards me. I really wasn’t in the mood for more white man photos but I stopped anyhow, you have to keep the fans happy. It turned out she was learning English at school and was able to tell me the reason I couldn’t get the tickets was that the train was full. She also said the lady at the counter was offering me an alternative for the next day but I was just shouting “Beijing, 2 people” and giving her a peace sign. With this newly acquired knowledge, I rejoined the queue and waited another 15 minutes before returning to Rory triumphantly with the tickets. These tickets were cheaper than the others we'd used previously but in the words of the ticket lady, these were only “sitty” tickets. All our prior travel on overnight trains had been in beds, but we’d done a fair few stints on planes using “sitty” chairs, so how bad could it be………..
2 days later we were back at the station and ready to leave for Beijing. The announcement was made for us to go to our platform, again a complete guess, so we followed the crowds down towards the tracks. As the train arrived we clambered on and started hunting for our seats. Now to say we stuck out like saw thumbs would be an understatement. I was the tallest, whitest, and certainly most ginger bearded saw thumb ever to a grace third class sleeper carriage and I soon realised why the tickets were considerably cheaper. The carriage was laid out in two rows of back to back benches on each side with a small aisle in between. Just to keep things amusing, the ticket lady had given us seats in the middle of the train so we had to walk through the entire carriage before we eventually found our place for the night. The benches were glorified church pews with nylon covers and in no way were they made for 3 people to sit side-by-side but we had to squeeze in. The seating pattern also meant you faced the 3 people on the opposite bench and forced you to constantly play twister for a better leg configuration. We were in this predicament for 12 long hours and to top things off people were constantly smoking, eating loud nuts and spitting all around us. I was in desperate need of entertainment, just to take my mind of the situation, but I didn't dare get my Ipod out through fear I might be pillaged. I ended up sleeping crouched over my rucksack partly for safety but mainly because it was the comfiest position I could manoeuvre into. By the end my lungs would have been in better shape if I’d done a shift in a coal mine and my spine used in crash testing.
If I never travel on another Chinese 3rd class train again, it will be too soon and I wish anybody the very best of luck who has to in the future. You’ll need it.
To acquire a ticket for these trains you have to book a couple of days in advance so we headed off to the station in Pingyao to make enquiries. We had hired an orange tandem bicycle for the day, which is a story in itself, as the station was a fair distance form our hostel, which meant I had to leave Rory outside on guard as I went in to book the tickets. As a rule of thumb, you can normally get away with a fare bit of pointing, signing numbers with your fingers and waving cash around but today this was not the case. After joining the back of the queue and waiting 15 minutes for my turn at the counter I started my pointing routine. This method hadn’t let me down before but for some reason the ticket lady wasn’t playing along. She kept asking me over and over the same question, I’m guessing it was a question, and pointing at her screen. I had no possible inclination of what she was trying to tell me. Another 3 long minutes of pointing method didn't pay off and I got the impression I was upsetting a few people waiting in the queue, so I accepted defeat and walked back to tell Rory the news.
Just as I’d left the counter a small Chinese girl walked towards me. I really wasn’t in the mood for more white man photos but I stopped anyhow, you have to keep the fans happy. It turned out she was learning English at school and was able to tell me the reason I couldn’t get the tickets was that the train was full. She also said the lady at the counter was offering me an alternative for the next day but I was just shouting “Beijing, 2 people” and giving her a peace sign. With this newly acquired knowledge, I rejoined the queue and waited another 15 minutes before returning to Rory triumphantly with the tickets. These tickets were cheaper than the others we'd used previously but in the words of the ticket lady, these were only “sitty” tickets. All our prior travel on overnight trains had been in beds, but we’d done a fair few stints on planes using “sitty” chairs, so how bad could it be………..
2 days later we were back at the station and ready to leave for Beijing. The announcement was made for us to go to our platform, again a complete guess, so we followed the crowds down towards the tracks. As the train arrived we clambered on and started hunting for our seats. Now to say we stuck out like saw thumbs would be an understatement. I was the tallest, whitest, and certainly most ginger bearded saw thumb ever to a grace third class sleeper carriage and I soon realised why the tickets were considerably cheaper. The carriage was laid out in two rows of back to back benches on each side with a small aisle in between. Just to keep things amusing, the ticket lady had given us seats in the middle of the train so we had to walk through the entire carriage before we eventually found our place for the night. The benches were glorified church pews with nylon covers and in no way were they made for 3 people to sit side-by-side but we had to squeeze in. The seating pattern also meant you faced the 3 people on the opposite bench and forced you to constantly play twister for a better leg configuration. We were in this predicament for 12 long hours and to top things off people were constantly smoking, eating loud nuts and spitting all around us. I was in desperate need of entertainment, just to take my mind of the situation, but I didn't dare get my Ipod out through fear I might be pillaged. I ended up sleeping crouched over my rucksack partly for safety but mainly because it was the comfiest position I could manoeuvre into. By the end my lungs would have been in better shape if I’d done a shift in a coal mine and my spine used in crash testing.
If I never travel on another Chinese 3rd class train again, it will be too soon and I wish anybody the very best of luck who has to in the future. You’ll need it.
