Friday, 4th December, 2015
- Day 94/298
- 31%
An English-speaking Trail Angel serves a sumptous spread, but I wrestle with unwanted attention from the hotel watchman.
An English-speaking Trail Angel serves a sumptous spread, but I wrestle with unwanted attention from the hotel watchman.
I wake up as the rest of the hotel does.
It’s impossible not to, as every room has a janky lock which requires a lot of fiddling. Once open, it rewards the departing guest with a loud snap.
Everyone seems to be unaware that my Do Not Disturb switch is activated, perhaps my unit is faulty. Sometimes I think the overly friendly watchman I met the other day is trying to come into my room. It was the same with the man in the squalid accommodation, so I’m wondering if it’s a cultural thing. Anyway, I make a rule that if there’s no knocking, I’m not opening.
As there’s no more sleeping to be done, I get up and make my bed. Although there are four radiators in here, the room is not especially warm without running the head pump, so last night I made the most of the twin room provisions and created an inverted princess-and-the-pea arrangement, with layer upon layer of deliciously lush woollen blankets and duvets.
Pulling the curtains, I’m surprised to see blue skies and sunshine outside. Not that the previous days haven’t been like this, but I still feel mentally scarred from the biting wind and my tender hands and feet remember something different. Which is to say, I’m not fooled China! I know that despite the outlook it is bloody cold out there, so I procrastinate with cups of hot sugary tea and do a spot of coding in the visitor chair.
But my long TODO list is beckoning and my half-a-Snickers bar breakfast hasn’t really satisfied me, so I head out into the sunshine, appropriately attired of course!
My first stop is the bank, as I’m running low on Yuan.
This quickly turns into a nightmare as the ABC (China Agricultural Bank) doesn’t accept either of my ATM or Visa cards and I am suddenly very panicky about my financial situation.
I call my bank, but shortly after explaining my situation I am cut off. After updating my phone credit over a painfully slow Spark EDGE connection, I risk frostbite to call the bank again. No Sir, your card isn’t blocked. Ok, so I’ll try another bank. It turns out that another bank is right next door and moments later I am back in the black. Thanks ICBC!
As I’m deciding where to head next, a lady on an electric scooter calls out, Hello!
She has an American accent but looks like a local. Actually she looks like a crazy Russian babushka, dressed as she is in her fluffy white hat. Anyway, she explains that she used to run tours in Hohhot. Now she’s back in Sonid Youqi, working a Government job. She asks if I would like to come to her house to have something to eat, and check out her antiques.
This sounds like a bad pick-up line but she doesn’t look dangerous, so I jump on the back of her bike. She asks if there’s anything I need to do first and I jump at the chance to tick off my most pressing TODOs.
About 45 minutes later we reach the family antique shop. The family store does indeed sell antiques, though the only thing I recognise is a picture of Chairman Mao. My own treasures are more mundane. I’m now the proud owner of a 10 GB China Mobile SIM card (¥ 300 / NZD 71.81), two furry pogies for my hands (¥ 15 / NZD 3.59) and two slightly less furry warmers for my knees (¥ 30 / NZD 7.18).
My new friend lives here with her aunties and a small boy. Initially very shy, he slowly warms up to me. This culminates in an eager photo for his mum, of me holding him while we wear our matching red puffer jackets.
But their life is not picture perfect. Chelmeg’s father is not well and is in hospital in a city 6 hours train ride away. Her mother is there, taking care of him. She visits regularly and is heading off again tomorrow to help as she can.
We head off to do a grocery run, negotiating tight back alleyways in her small SUV.
Her aunt stays behind to prepare a double batch of Mongol buzze and when we return we feast on these, accompanied by Chinese salads, some surprisingly spicy peppers and a delicious French red. They even have their first Kiwi fruit salad, which Chelmeg makes to my rough specification.
A wall hanging above the table depicts Genghis Khan and his henchman. I’d love to take one home to New Zealand but I just can’t justify spending my travel money in this way. I’d much rather have first hand experiences, though maybe I’ll regret this later.
Chelmeg then acts as translator and the three of us have a fairly deep conversation about Buddhism. When my eyelids start dropping she finds me a cab, telling me that it will be no more than ¥ 10 to get home. When I get there, a text message is waiting for me, to check that I made it home safely.
What’s that thing they say about a perfectly nice evening, ruined by ..?
When I arrive back at the hotel the watchman is outside. I go into my room and he comes in with... some of my stuff! My solar battery, my monocular, my thermos. Some of my other stuff has been moved around in minor ways and things that were sitting out have been put into bags with other things.
It’s possible that he thought that I’d done a runner, but... did you miss the expensive bike sitting in the hallway? Or, maybe the cleaners are light fingered? If so, they must have an exceptionally light touch. The towels don’t appear to have been changed, nor the soap refilled, nor the bin emptied, nor the tea cup washed.
So, what? You just came in to my room to lift my stuff for fun? And now you’re returning it with a grin like you did me some big favour?? He points at the battery and I point at the outlet – yeah, obviously I was charging it. And what does that have to do with the other random stuff you lifted? Suddenly I regret handing him ¥ 160 for two more nights. I hope I don’t have to explain to the lady in my very limited Chinese that I have actually paid. I demonstrate the door lock, point at my key, hold my battery, point at myself.
The guy looks dodgy as hell, but maybe he is doing me a favour. Maybe theft is a big problem. Maybe his job is to proactively steal things before the real thieves get to them. Or maybe disgruntled Chinese ghosts regularly ransack hotel rooms as payback for being robbed of their remaining years. Whatever the reason, it has taken the shine off this nice establishment. My relaxing evening is over and I’m firmly back on guard.