Motorcycle Misadventure in China: October 19

Frozen water bottles, a shopping spree, the best noodle soup I ever had, a mob, and a dog attack. What more can you ask for in a travel (mis)adventure?

We spent the night in Zhangbeixian in a hotel at the edge of town and woke to find that the water bottles we left in our sidecars had frozen, "Not quite solid," Diny pronounced, optimistically. One of the staff climbed onto the back of Teresa’s bike and led us to the military shop where they sell those big green padded coats we see so many of the motorcycle riders wearing. The shop also had mittens with a single digit carved out in case you have to do something like — well, button up your new padded green jacket. I bought a few pairs of gloves, as "they cost nothing," which is Teresa’s favorite expression, and happily, I’ve found it’s true. Plus a pair of black leather lace-up boots with wool lining; twenty dollars. And a daypack, camo, totally Chinese military. "I’m not fond of the military except for their fashion," said Diny, as she purchased her coat and boots. She was whining that I got the only backpack until Teresa whacked her and said, "Oh shut up. You can get them in Beijing everywhere for the same price when you get home, they’re regulated." You see we’ve become fast friends by now.

We couldn’t find a visor for Diny’s helmet, so she donned a ski mask, my goggles, and a fleece headband before we set out to the steppes. By the time we topped ourselves off with our new coats (over all of our existing clothes) we could barely get on our bikes. Actually, we could barely bend our arms, legs, or turn our heads. But we were warm.

We crossed into the frozen tundra of Inner Mongolia long before we entered the province. We knew we arrived when the paved road ended and we were following blue trucks into the headwind down rutted dirt roads through grasslands and by villages and even clusters of yurts. We stopped to pee on the side of a remote country road — don’t even ask how that process went considering how we were bundled up — and found ourself on a beautiful aspen-lined country road. We stopped next to some burial mounds and I think even a stupa. After that, we were counting down the kilometers to one town — Shang Yi. It was our halfway destination, and we arrived there tired but warm,  except for the last three fingers on my hands, Diny’s nose, and Teresa’s neck.

Is it impossible to choose a bad restaurant in China? We ate tofu, potatoes and squash, sauteed greens, and a bowl of vegetarian noodle soup with hand cut noodles an Italian chef would be hard pressed to match. Teresa, as always, made fast friends with the staff, and one woman escorted us to the bathroom down the dirt road across the street. We all kept talking as we squatted in the five-slotted concrete pad, and a line formed outside, the concept of privacy being nonexistant. During the conversation, the woman told Teresa that she was amazed that we were "so old." She said a lot of people had commented on that the entire trip. "Gads, do we look that old?" I asked. She replied, "Oh no, of course not!" with a roll of the eyes and a snicker. But added, "You know, after 45 or so they’re grandmothers."

After many photos — at the restaurant, not the toilet, sorry — we were able to leave, and the process of getting dressed and geared up to leave caused many bystanders to clog up the main road through town that we could barely get through the traffic jam ourselves. As we rode out, I could see people craning their necks looking over our heads to try to see what all the commotion was about.

At least it was a friendly crowd. At the next town, Xinghe, we stopped for gas and fruit and were immediately surrounded by a mob of bored, curious, drunk men who would not stop fiddling with the bikes. As I rode away from the fruit stand to the gas station one of them held on to the back of the bike for a laugh. Ha ha. They followed us to the gas station where we got more of the same. Riding through town, car drivers pulled up next to us to gawk, nearly forcing us off the road or into head on collisions. We had marked it as a possible destination to spend the night, but we were all too rattled to even consider it. Later, I found that my headlight had jiggled loose, along with the right front turn signal, and though I was watching every second, except when I paid the attendant, I guess, I have to wonder if someone fiddled a little too much. 

Later, over dinner at our hotel in Huaiaxian, we decided that the men in Xinghe must have been imported to build this town. It was definitely the most rawly under construction town we’d ridden through, with many unfinished apartment buildings standing ready to be occupied for residents from the outlying areas. There were few women, which was another indication that they were imported and perhaps temporary, or waiting for their families to keep them occupied.

Our hotel in Huiaxian is brand new, too, as is the entire immaculate, as-yet unoccupied town. In fact the hotel just opened this month, and we have to be out by eight in the morning because there’s a big event going on and every room will be occupied.

We brought our bags in ourselves — the bell staff hadn’t been employed quite yet. It was pitch black and the stars were shining as I went back to the parking lot to move the bikes over to the guard shack. The restaurant staff, a gaggle of very young people, opened the window and started harassing me with the endless hello hello hello mantra accompanied by giggles. I ignored them, moved Teresa’s bike, and ran back across the lot (to warm up) to my bike when got hit in the back. I screamed. a big dog had lept on me, paws on my shoulderblades, and grabbed the collar of my fur vest with its teeth before running back into the neighboring park. The guard went running to the dog and I kept running to the bike and rode it back to the guard shack, where Diny was laughing. She’d seen the dog after the fact, and thought I’d just been scared of it as it ran by, not knowing that I could have been mauled by a possibly rabid dog.

We could hear the guard behind the hedge kicking the dog back into a cage, and talking furiously to someone on a cell phone. I didn’t tell the hotel staff about it. Considering it now, he might be petrified that he’ll lose his job.

This brand new hotel is very old school Chinese /Soviet style, with a big impressive tiled lobby and small rooms lacking in personality except for the telltale touches that proves you’re in China — the tile’s been hammered out to let in the plumbing and the wallpaper’s already peeling. There’s only hot water between 8-10 pm and 7-8:30 am, and the staff brings you hot water in thermoses. The lights dim and bright randomly, and the heating system is a remote-control affair that beeps and blings but provides little actual heat. However, there is working high-speed Internet, via an ethernet plug in the wall.

The food in the hotel restaurant was a disappointment after last night’s feast and today’s lunch, but the beds are nice and hard and there are plenty of blankets, as usual, so I’m sure that after I put in my earplugs to drown out those spontaneous noises that always happens in the hallway or in the building next door, I’ll have a great night’s sleep.

Here’s today’s photo album.