The Last Sleeper Bus From Yangshuo Gail and I caught the last bus out of Yangshuo on Monday afternoon, five days before Spring Festival, the biggest holiday of the Chinese calendar. We were headed for Guangzhou, an overnight trip, and we believed we were very lucky to get tickets since there wouldn't be another bus until after the holidays -- possibly a week, we were told, ten days, maybe longer. It was difficult to get more precise information than this, since everyone we asked gave us a different answer. I was charmed by the idea of a "Sleeper Bus," since I'd never been on one before. I imagined myself riding down the highway in a sort of train-berth, stretched out in comfort as the kilometers drifted by. My first shock was the bus itself, an ancient, faded blue, dust-covered vehicle that was unlike anything I had ever seen. Inside there were two decks with a narrow aisle running down the center, and upper and lower "berths" set in a kind of jungle gym scaffolding that required a certain monkey-like skill to ascend and descend. The beds were more like a chaise longue, not entirely flat but raised in a zig-zag fashion at the head and knee in order to squeeze more sleepers into the bus. Gail and I had a top berth, two beds that were side by side, and I was glad we were married. Intimacy was what this sleeping arrangement was all about; strangers would clearly not be strangers long on this overnight journey. I'm sure the beds would have been wonderfully comfortable for a pygmy, or anyone else five feet tall and skinny as a board, but they were a challenge for us. To add to the problem, there was no place to put our luggage, which somehow must be squeezed into bed with us. I was at a loss trying to figure out how this could be managed when an experienced British traveler across the aisle said the best way was to place your bags under your knees. This meant you were in a kind of fetal position as you lay on your back, your knees propped up, but it wasn't too bad. At least I was able to use one of the straps from my backpack as a kind of sling to hold my arm from dangling down into the aisle; since it was physically an impossibility for my left arm to share the bed with me, I was rather proud of myself for thinking of it. We took off down the highway, but we didn't make it far before setting off on a detour along a series of side streets. This was mystifying, but we soon learned what was up. In China, bus drivers often supplement their income by taking on extra passengers along the way, or odd bits of cargo. Our detour was due to a very odd bit of cargo indeed -- 24 wooden crates full of live snakes. Dozens of snakes, in fact, writhing and wiggling in every box. We had a chance to see them during the next hour as they were loaded by rope pulleys and tied to the top of the roof, inches from my head. There was also a single crate containing several live chickens and one terrified rooster. They were all headed -- as we were too, we hoped -- to the fabled restaurants of Guangzhou. About eight o'clock we had dinner at a rest stop I will never forget: a grim, concrete building with a W.C. that made me wish I was wearing rubber boots. Then we set off once again and Gail and I did our best to sleep. We worked out of system of snuggling like spoons and turning in unison from side to another. It was almost comfortable. At midnight, the bus broke down. The driver pulled off to the side of the road, opened the engine cover by his seat, and he and several other men proceeded to light cigarettes and disassemble the engine in order to repair a broken piston. The job took six hours, from midnight to 6 AM. Then the rooster crowed from the top of the bus and with a collective sigh, we started up again at dawn. We broke down again at 7. Another half hour of fiddling and we made it a few more miles down the road. Until we broke down again about 9. There were ten of us foreigners on board, and most of us were fairly philosophical about such adventures of the road. Only one couple really couldn't handle it. They were British, a New Age sort; they had come to China on a ten-day trip to study Feng Shui, the ancient Chinese art of placing objects in their correct place -- quite popular in the West these days. But they were now afraid they were going to miss their plane from Hong Kong back to London and by the third breakdown they were beside themselves. It was a bleak, drizzly morning as we stood in a bedraggled group by the side of the road. Suddenly the man started screaming. "You know what the problem is with these damn Chinese? They're just like Yanks! Look at 'em! -- they even drive on the wrong side of the road!" Some people get like that after a night on a sleeper bus. Finally we all jumped ship, I'm afraid. The bus driver gave us each a 10 yuan refund and we flagged down a passing bus on the highway -- not a sleeping bus, I'm glad to report, but one in which we sat blessedly upright in our seats as we headed into Guangzhou. Next week: "A Family Portrait" From the Editor in Chief: If you have some travel or work experience in China to share with us, we will be very excited to hear from you! Send your feedback by e-mail or regular mail to ASM Overseas Corporation. Thank you! And if you liked this column, please check Expats In China (International Community in China) for more interesting and useful information on life in China as a foreigner, including calendar of events, entertainment, housing, employment, classifieds, personal, etc. |
