Sept 20 2001 - A Foreign Devil Tries Tourism

What is a dumb consultant to do? He has been in China for three weeks and Guangzhou has many attractions but weekends are not one of them.

Obviously he consults assorted guide books and his kindly hosts and selects an easy trip for his first sojourn in a land where he cannot read the road signs, has an accent that even prevents him from buying beer in Chinese and can only get a taxi if his destination is written down in something that he cannot understand – Chinese characters.

So the destination is to be Hangzhou. This is a former capital of China (not an exclusive roll, there have been about a dozen of them) and a couple of hours flight away. The local Unisys office get everything organised and off he goes on Friday evening.

What a start – check in takes thirty seconds; I am not joking. I walk up to the hand luggage only check in, show my 60 litre rucksack (three quarters empty) and hand over my ticket. Within ten seconds I have a boarding pass. Unfortunately the plane load’s half an hour late so I have to kill an hour and a half in the domestic terminal, which is a bit of a stretch. We sit on the tarmac for three quarters of an hour and the food is basic – basically crap - but we get there fine about 9. 30 p.m.

Now this is a tourist town, so getting about is obviously easy – right. I wander up to the taxi rank with my bit of paper that has the hotel address in both English and Chinese characters. The taxi drivers do not understand. One of them says “Where are you going?” “The Shangri La” I reply. Now the Brits amongst my devoted readers will know that anywhere called the Shangri La is bound to be some third rate dump – probably a takeaway with a back room. Somebody forgot to tell the Chinese; The Shangri La is the best hotel in Hangzhou – a very good hotel by any standards. The taxi driver knew this; I, of course, did not – I really must learn to read the guide-books before I go somewhere.

Off we went in very light traffic (three weeks in Guangzhou and I had got used to serious traffic – it is like Delhi but without the consideration), through town to my destination. It was about 30 kilometres and the metre said 77 Yuan. Now this is not a lot of money so I handed over 100 thinking that I would probably get some change (tipping is not normal here) but was not too bothered if I did not. The taxi driver knew that I must have more money than sense to be staying in this flash joint and wanted more. After debate with various members of the hotel staff I handed over another 20 and he left like a true taxi driver – disgruntled.

I admit I cheated – three weeks of Chinese food was getting a bit much. There is an Italian restaurant in this hotel and very good it was too.

Anyway up in the morning and the obvious thing to do is go for a leisurely stroll around and across the lake. (This is the main attraction – an artificial lake with islands, gardens, dykes etc. – no I was not walking on water on this occasion.)

Now I knew Hangzhou to be a tourist town but this is a real tourist town. Whether your idea of tourist hell is St Mark’s Square, The Statue of Liberty, Disneyland, The Taj Mahal on a Friday, Blackpool or Bondi Beach forget it - you ain’t seen nothing yet. (I have not actually been to Bondi but, as a bloke, you cannot put Coca Cabana down as a beach example of hell can you?)

We tend to think of tourists as foreigners. Well they are here too – Chinese foreigners. People tend to identify themselves by the province they come from – just like Texans. China is smaller than Canada with twice the population of North America & Europe combined. International travel is still not normal for ordinary people but this country has had economic growth at the 10%+ p.a. level for more than 15 years; not everyone is poor. So where do they go on holiday – Hangzhou. The place is crawling with people. The peaceful, reflective gardens are overrun with smoking, talking, shouting, spitting tourists. There is no point on the lake where the road is not within 100 metres. (Actually that is not quite true, there appears to be a military base that the road skirts. I walked up towards the gate but I doubted that my diplomatic skills were up to negotiating a tour and retreated.) 100 years ago it would have been tranquillity personified – the gardens really are worth seeing; they have great names (Breeze Rustling Lotus Flower Garden or Three Mirrors Mirroring the Moon give you the idea.); they have wildlife (Guangzhou does not – everything gets eaten, but that is another story) the flowers, even at the end of August, are quite spectacular and some of the water is remarkably peaceful. 50 years ago there might have been a road with one vehicle a day to interrupt the bicycles and horses & carts. Even 25 years ago the sprawling skyscrapers that dominate the Eastern side of the lake and the several hundred tourist boats would not have existed; the vehicles would have been a cause of interest rather than continuous noisy polluters.

Anyway I did my bit. There were some huge orange millipedes, a great variety of butterflys, ponds full of goldfish and the lotus flowers are something.

All in all it was an education.

Eating that night proved frustrating; I could not find the restaurants that are mentioned in Lonely Planet and I have never felt that the word “Hallo” was a threat before. (Actually that is bollocks – the people are not in the least threatening and as hasslers they are definitely third rate but there are a lot of shops and there are not many western tourists walking round – I only saw two outside the hotel all day – so you get “Hallo” every 3 seconds.) Cowardice prevailed and I retreated to the hotel, where I at least had a bit of Chinese culture – some stringed instruments that looked like they started as a lute and a mandolin but then some sadist got at then to make them extraordinarily complicated. This culture came to a sudden halt when they started playing “Yesterday” – why has no-one shot Paul McCartney yet?

Sunday was fairly ordinary. There is a big temple complex and by now I was used to the idea that there would be more people milling around and looking in the shops than there were in the temples. (I have not explained - China is a nation of shoppers. If they are bored, they shop; if it is the evening, they shop; if they need something, they shop; if they do not need something, they shop; if they are hungry, they shop; it is the weekend, they shop. Shops are normally open from 7.00 a.m. to 9.00 p.m. 7 days a week. Shopping does not imply buying – except something to eat, of course, that is serious shopping.)

Rather frustratingly you could not take photos in the temples. I understand why but the postcards that you can buy are crap. The statues are worth seeing – they are not original – this temple has been restored SIXTEEN times, mostly recently following the excesses of the Red Guards. There also some cliff carvings – Budhas mainly that are pretty good.

After that I retreated for a beer to watch the world go by. (Why should I make excuses, I went for a beer – well two actually.) The world assuredly went by. Tourists groups follow people with pennants here, much like other tourist hells but who are the people in the groups? You cannot get lost. There are several attractions but what does a guide do? Tell you about Yu Fei, the local General martyr type? Direct you to a garden? Tell you what a lotus plant looks like? Could these tourists not read the signs? Were they Japanese? Koreans? A mystery. The only common factor was age. Each group had there own baseball caps and the minimum joining age was at least sixty and there was one bunch that straggled by that must have averaged well into their seventies and there must have been close to 100 of them!

Negotiate the taxi fare at the hotel before leaving, hang around for an hour in the most beautiful airport terminal (a contradiction, I know) that I have been to and an easy trip back to Guangzhou – a piece of cake this tourism lark.

A disturbing thought – if that is Hangzhou, what happens when we get to Guilin – China’s No. 1 tourist attraction?