Planalto Cycles

That night, I used my thin sleeping bag again, as the blanket looked like a bedspread. I think it’s worth bringing, even if you’re a backpacker (which I currently am) trying to optimize your pack.

I wasn’t sure whether to leave early and try to get food on the way to the train station (and get some tenge from the ATM beforehand), or whether to stay longer and eat things I’m carrying from China to Taiwan and back. Luckily, I got hungry around 7 a.m. (which was my 10 a.m. until yesterday), so I could combine the two options—leaving early and eating from my provisions.

On my walk to the train station (more than 5 km), I found only local ATMs and closed banks with ATMs (it was Sunday and also a national holiday). I was confident I’d find one at the station, but there wasn’t much to discover. At the information desk, the clerk and I “discussed” the ticket issue by typing on our phones, but the only train she could offer went to Tashkent, and it would arrive there too late for the Tashkent-Bukhara train. So, my Almaty experience is limited until this evening.

I still didn’t have any money for the luggage storage, and the man wanted $10 instead. I said I wouldn’t be arriving until the evening, and he wanted 5,000 tenge, which is still just under $10.

Later, I saw that the 12-hour night train cost 15,000 tenge and my full meal + tea at the restaurant cost 6,000 tenge. He had me hooked, and it was clear to me from the start. Later, I asked the information desk how much the luggage storage would cost, but they told me they had their own rates… I still didn’t have any money for the luggage storage, and the man wanted $10 instead. I said I wouldn’t be arriving until the evening, and he wanted 5,000 tenge, which is still just under $10.

My problem was that I had agreed to 5000T without knowing the exchange rate, and in a situation where I didn’t want to take my luggage with me, I felt dependent. Let’s just say I probably paid double what I would have paid in Vienna, but a guy in Almaty who wasn’t from the upper class got a good deal that day. I just hope he doesn’t get any bolder.

I set off and found a number of currency exchange bureaus, where I turned 300Y in 22,000T.

I headed toward a restaurant recommended by Aruzhan (my couchsurfer from Almaty in December 2024), thinking I could do a longer loop from there and go back for a late lunch.

Next, I went to a market—not a real street market, but more like an agricultural fair. My supplies were now too full again. It was important to buy some apples, because Almaty translates as “father of the apple.” The roots of the modern apple may also lie in the Almaty region.

I hope I bought the right ones, because according to an online guide, they should be red, but most people bought the greenish variety. I tried one and can say that 8 out of 10 points seems possible.

But I must also say that you can get them from 200 to 800T/kg and to be on the safe side, I went for the 800T version because the cheaper it is, the more you have to cut away and then you don’t know what you’ll find inside.

I continued south, past the university with its incredible view of the Ile Alatau Mountains and the Opera House. After a few more sightseeing tours, I went to the Green Market. On the way, I passed a street with several ATMs. The first one didn’t have any money, the second and third required an app installation, but the next one simply gave me money, and several more followed.

I wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate to buy anything else (I forgot to mention that I had bought chocolate from the same brand Aruzhan had given me in Vienna). But a guy in front of a dried fruit stand approached me in English, and I asked him about green dried fruit, and he said pomelos. And then I asked him about dried fruit from Kazakhstan, and he showed me what he had, mostly apricots. Well, that’s exactly how you get me to buy something, especially since I can keep the fruit for a while, even for Vienna, if there are no regulations prohibiting bringing it with me.

Then I went to the (fast-food) restaurant Bauyrdaq Aruzhan had recommended. I already knew that vegetarian food was almost never an option, and now it definitely wasn’t there. So I got liver instead of other meat, hoping that it was a byproduct and not the primary reason for killing a sheep. But ultimately, that’s just an excuse.

Additionally, there was noodle soup and milk tea. I’d been thirsty before, but the soup was large (and salty) and the tea was a liter. I’d seen that cola, etc., was served in bottles, but with glasses for drinking. So I thought I could get an empty bottle to take the tea with me. Instead, I got a paper cup. Just to be safe and prove how smart I am, I put the cup in one of those plastic bags I always keep when I can’t avoid them.

By the time I arrived at the station, half of the tea was already in the plastic bag. The salt had made me thirsty anyway, so I finished the cup and then emptied the bag. Only a few drops fell to the floor. I was able to clean it up with one of the paper towels I always keep.

My original plan was to take a different route back to the train station, but by the time I left the restaurant, my feet and legs were aching, and even slow walking wasn’t fun. I hadn’t walked that much, but maybe it was because I was carrying both heavy backpacks first for a while and then just the smaller, but still heavy, backpack the rest auf my tour? In Arys, I’ll switch to my sneakers, as I also felt that the sandals were another part of the problem.

I boarded the train without any problems (there was only one) and settled into my compartment when a whole family with three girls (let’s say 6, 9, and 11 years old) boarded. The father told me that the mother and daughters were going to Turkistan (about 100 km beyond Arys, the train goes to Oral), and he was staying in Almaty. The older girls wanted to sleep in the upper bunks, so I moved downstairs. All three of them put on their pajamas and felt right at home.

But then an older couple arrived and insisted on the two beds listed on their tickets. I had to change beds again, and the older girls went to another compartment. The youngest shared the remaining bed with her mother.

I just wonder why the couple insisted on these beds. I offered to sleep somewhere else instead, but the mother said it was okay.

Incidentally, the couple soon changed into their pajamas, seems to be common.

Almaty would have been another stopover to meet a friend (who is now in Italy). Ultimately, I had planned too tightly to stay there for more than one night, as I needed three trains to Bukhara instead of one, and three day trains instead of one night train.

After maybe two hours of driving, we made our first stop, and then again at 11:00 PM, each time for at least 20 minutes. Then from 1:30 AM to 5:00 AM, we parked with the doors open, with the temperature down to just 12°C. I had no idea where they had gone or when they would be back, and most of those who had stayed on the bus were asleep. Then another drive with a short break, then an hour’s break (breakfast?), and after another five minutes of driving, another hour with no clear agenda.

I never know why or how long we parked and didn’t go to the bathroom because I would be too nervous if I didn’t know where the driver was and when we were leaving.

Finally, border control in Korgas. The Chinese official asked me which cities I’d visited and even wanted to see photos. But then he let me go, and since I was still one of the first on the bus, I dared to go to the bathroom, now knowing that I could last 19 hours, at least when drinking too little.

This sensitive topic is another, yet down-to-earth, reason to stop traveling. (my list gets longer with every day of travelling!)

The border control took almost three hours in total. But just as I was hoping we would drive the remaining ~340 km straight away, I realized that these stops kept happening, and were beyond my patience. The last three stops were for people who wanted to leave earlier but needed to retrieve their luggage from the cargo hold, which, in turn, took more time than I could bear. (But that’s just FYI—no one had to noticed, of course.)

We arrived at the Sayran bus station at 8:00 PM, and I was able to walk to the hotel. It’s a simple hotel, but it’s located right between the bus station and the train station, so both are within walking distance.

By the way: Due to the time difference between China and Kazakhstan, it wasn’t 8:00 PM, but 5:00 PM. I believe this is the only land border crossing with a three-hour time difference (Afghanistan and China are 3.5 hours apart, the other borders are closer).

This day is crucial for me, as this is my first trip to an unfamiliar country, and it involves a long bus journey that has been shrouded in mystery ever since I first heard about it. So I’m just hoping everything goes smoothly with the ticket and everything else.

I waited near the reception desk to see if the delivery man would come by. That meant inhaling a few breakfast cigarettes. Interesting fact: Smoking is heavily restricted in Turkmenistan, and according to Wikipedia, only 8% of the population smokes. And all cars except white ones are banned, but only men are allowed to drive. The dictator wants it that way.

In general, I don’t want to travel to dictatorships unless it means something like “supporting the people (mentally),” like in Iran, where a large majority hates the government.

I’m not sure if my thoughts apply to Turkmenistan, a country with very hospitable people. But admittedly, my main criterion was trying to reach China (another dictatorship) by train. It’s hard to stick consistently to principles when they contradict each other and you have to decide what’s more important.

Another reason not to travel anymore?

At 11:00 a.m., I went to the manager, who told me to wait a little longer, the delivery would arrive soon. That’s exactly what I had hoped for on Wednesday evening and yesterday between 10:00 a.m. and 8:00 p.m.

My time at Yunbo is running out, and so is my time in Urumqi.

At 12:00 PM, the manager himself decided it was taking too long and tried to call, but no one answered. I contacted Ben one last time, he sent me a new delivery confirmation, and the manager called again. This time he got a response, and 20 minutes later, a man arrived with my jacket! I was supposed to pay 14 yen, but I only had 15 yen. I tried to explain that it was okay, but the man was almost confused, and in the end, I got 1 yen back.

I might have stayed at the hostel until I had to get to the station, but now I was too excited, said goodbye to everyone, and left. Outside, I went to the same restaurant as yesterday and ordered yam with mushrooms and rice. I ate very slowly, firstly because of my stomach and secondly because I had more than enough time. The side effect was that I felt full after eating halfway through. I learned this lesson on the container ships (and didn’t forget it, but rarely put it into practice), where I also ate meditatively, always putting my cutlery aside while chewing thoroughly.

But since I hadn’t had breakfast (not that hungry and just waiting, feeling like I shouldn’t leave and couldn’t do much until the wait was over), I thought I could finish without feeling hungry.

Then I went to my now favourite shop to spend my smaller yuan on food (although I still had food I’d bought with my last Taiwanese dollars). The woman was very friendly and helpful, a sort of mutual customer-salesman romance. Besides apologizing again for her English, she said goodbye three times, and with a smile, I walked to the train station. I still had some money and found a larger shop inside (hers was so small that we had to change places when she wanted to show me something, and I couldn’t turn around with my backpack without throwing everything down). After some addition and subtraction, I had an amount that fit my coins and smaller banknotes, and I walked into the station.

Illegible Chinese was now joined by illegible Russian writing, but for a while it helped following people with suitcases. And when I saw “Kacca”, I was pretty sure I was on the right track. Before I’d even finished looking around, two officials asked me in English if they could help me. I showed them the photo of the ticket Han had sent me, and they smiled and said, “Yes, this is our ticket. Just sit and wait!” I have absolutely no problem waiting 3.5 hours once everything is done! After a while, one of them approached me, showed me my ticket in paper, and asked if it was mine (“Martin Wein” it said). I showed her my passport and said that was almost my name. She smiled and said, “It’s okay!” So, if it’s okay, the wait is even more relaxing.

I just want to mention that both women struck me as a perfect blend of Chinese and Turkish, and I think that could be a general description for the “Stans,” at least in the East, and I wonder if I’ll be better able to distinguish when I’m in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. I’m not sure if I mentioned the impression I had of the Uyghurs, or whoever else was in the market street when Ben guided me through the traditional center:
I was almost confused by all these possible variations between European, “Central Asian,” Turkish, and Chinese.

It was a pleasant night; my neighbors were silent. Since China has only one time zone, sunrise is at 8:30 a.m. (sunset: 7:13 p.m., compared to Burgas or Rome—at the same latitude: 7:30 a.m.–6:15 p.m.).

Ben had told me that his friend had sent my jacket to the hostel last night, but it should arrive between 10 and 11 a.m. So I sat down in the lounge to wait for it and found a Lonely Planet for Central Asia on the 99% Chinese bookshelf! I was able to make some travel arrangements for Turkmenistan.

For most of this trip, my digestion wasn’t optimal, even though I avoided spicy food as much as possible. But it had already become more difficult during the train ride (remember—bring your own!), and it was still the same today.

So I decided to eat plain rice, maybe with carrots. The hostel manager confirmed I could get that at a restaurant on the ground floor (it’s a tall skyscraper, and the ground floor is a ring of shops and restaurants surrounding the building).

First, I went to buy carrots and was surprised that the woman there spoke English. Two large carrots cost 1y (12 cents), so I bought some more old brown bananas. As I left, she even apologized for her English, although I should have apologized for my nonexistent Chinese.

Then I went to a restaurant and ordered plain rice. The owner showed me to a table, poured me tea, and gave me a menu in English! There was something with rice and sliced ​​potatoes, so I thought I could stay to eat (I had brought a takeaway box) since he was so accommodating. Then he brought a large plate full of rice, sliced potatoes, some vegetables, and… it was a bit spicy. With plenty of tea, it was manageable for me, but my strategy of a cleaning day was slightly changed. I needed two bananas to soothe my lips, and then there was no space left for the carrots.

That afternoon, I asked again if the jacket had finally arrived, and the manager also asked. So I pestered Ben again, he sent an updated delivery slip, and the manager called a number. A driver said he’d be there in 30 minutes. I was so relieved that I grabbed the guitar he’d handed me yesterday. I’d been telling my colleague from school how embarrassing it was to be asked to play something from Austria in such a situation, and I just couldn’t think of anything. She suggested “Das Brünnerle,” a simple folk song. Now I sang it, relieved about my jacket. The manager insisted on a microphone, and that’s how I heard how inaccurate my intonation was—I need to practice! (I hadn’t sung in months and also before I wasn’t the best trained singer.)

After that, I improvised, and more men arrived, appreciating it by starting to smoke (and offering cigarettes). After a while, when they started talking to each other, I played more and more quietly until I thought I could escape unnoticed into a room with air to breathe.

The jacket didn’t arrive, so I had to ask Ben again. The result: The delivery man had been there, called, and instead of speaking to the manager, he spoke to a confused lady, so he had to leave. I’ve now “explained” to her what’s going on (actually, my phone did it, and Chinese translation is usually awkward), and she also spoke to the delivery man, and the next appointment is tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. I’ll just mention that I’m feeling uneasy until this is a success story.

Good news for me: The arrival time was 8:55 a.m., not 8:55 p.m.!

I had used amap to determine the stopovers on the way, and after 24 hours, I more and more suspected we might arrive earlier. This morning, the train stopped at 7 a.m., and the location marker initially showed Urumqi (causing just a slight panic, since this was supposed to be the final stop anyway). Zooming in, I saw that it was Turpan (there are no English signs at the station) and the distance confirmed an arrival in 2 hours.

After arriving, I tried to find the bus station and check if I had everything I needed to actually board the bus. I’m not sure the officer could figure out what I wanted, so I’ll definitely get there early.

In Yunbo, I had a flashback:

Is it possible that the same guy is still lying in the same bed, having his endless phone conversations?!

His voice, the endless pauses when “she” speaks—everything was the same. At least I saw him this time, because he likes to smoke in the bathroom, so he keeps moving back and forth between his bed and there.

Last time, he just coughed; this time, he coughs and smokes.

I’ve washed my clothes, but since I don’t have much cold-weather gear with me, that means I’ll stay in the hostel until everything dries.

My China cycle comes to an end in Urumqi—a big circle, but still not as big as China. The borders with the 14 neighboring countries alone are about 22,500 km long. But assuming good rail connections, you could do the whole trip in a week! (With the Chinese highspeed trains)

The first time something inside me told me it was time to get up was at 3 a.m. I attribute this partly to the fact that I seemed to have been sleeping soundly quite early. But when it’s all about not accidentally leaving the train too early for two days, even I’m relaxed enough to doze or just lie around until the other passengers wake up.

Still, maybe I shouldn’t have waited too long, because at least one restroom was permanently closed, and the remaining one was becoming less attractive as demand increased. I don’t like waiting in line for my turn, but I dislike a line outside this particular door even more. But there are still things that need to be done.
And just a quick note for less experienced travelers (I don’t feel “experienced”, but after a few months of traveling you gain some experiences): Bring your own (paper)!

In a modification of the saying “With danger, courage grows,” I say: “Motivation and activity decrease with the lack of challenges: Lying around seems more attractive than doing things you’ve previously planned.”

Let’s see!

In Tianshui, father and son got off the train. Their language sounded neither like Turkish nor Chinese. It could be Mongolian or Hui, but other languages ​​are spoken there as well.

That afternoon in Lanzhou, a guy entered the compartment, and I didn’t have a chance to clear enough space on the small table between the moment I realized he was about to board and his stern gesture to clear the table. At least I was quick enough to take out my charger, so my new king could plug in his without demanding something.

A while ago, the train conductor had been here and folded up my former neighbors’ used blankets. I wondered if new passengers were supposed to reuse them. I still don’t know, because the king looks like he won’t be staying overnight.

I’d learned from Han that Chinese emperors were often poets, and I also had the positive idea that nobility was associated with noble behavior. So, perhaps my new friend isn’t a real king after all? At least I was surprised when I saw him shift his position and hear him “speak,” but it wasn’t his mouth. After his speech, he leaned back in a relaxed position. Later, he briefly lifted his mask (this time it was his mouth) to spit something out, right onto the bench he was sitting on! His backpack is so small—he has to leave soon! Or does someone like that only need a few things? He left soon, another man arrived, then a couple who finally stayed overnight, so this will be the fourth time someone has used these pillows. But perhaps I should change my attitude toward pillows, because other pillows are used for a long time and by different people, for example, on a sofa. So why be picky about a pillow for sleeping?

Today marks the start of my 50-hour (addendum from the 22nd: no, only 38.5 hours!) train journey, so I can’t continue uploading until I’m back in Urumqi (October 22nd).

At 10:00 a.m., Han started her free guided tour for Charlotte (Germany) and me, with Peter accompanying the group. The topic was authentic Beijing snacks and their history.
GuruWalk: Immersive street food tour: the most authentic snacks in Beijing
As for space, Beijing’s snacks are not only rooted in this city, but gather diverse characters from other regions of  China — that’s Beijing’s charm, the heart and capital of China. As for time, every snack we try is kind of a time capsule, carring distinctive memory from different periods and people(class).

I asked Han for a summary of the tour and have copied her text in italics to accompany my (unchanged) passages. The differences are mainly due to memory! Guru walk is the organisation where you can book such tours.

We started with a pancake with an extra crispy layer, but I couldn’t join in, as I was still full from breakfast, partly because I had eaten the leftovers of the people who had been sitting there earlier.
1. Lizi jianbing (Chinese pancake with deep fried pastry inside)[for ordinary people]
A super-convenient northern-style snack whose history can be traced back 1,800 years. And legend says it’s created by Zhuge Liang.

We went to a tea shop that had come from the south a generation earlier and invented macha ice cream to introduce young people to tea drinking. Luckily, we were able to eat the ice cream in the warm shop; it was even colder outside than yesterday (9°C, which, after weeks of temperatures well over 30°C, was way too cold for me, at least for eating ice cream). I also bought some jasmine tea candies, which were low in sugar but full of flavor.

2. Wuyutai tea shop (jasmine tea/matcha flavored ice cream)
The name “Wuyutai” comes from the founder himself — Mr. Wu Yutai — who was originally from Anhui province. Back in the day, merchants from Anhui were known to be really good at doing business.

Not to be eaten but influencing everything in China, including snacks:
3.Yuhe (Jade river), part of Grand canal
the ancient “highway” that carried food and goods from the south to Beijing

Not far from there was the imperial yogurt shop, which now also sells to ordinary people, including tourists, if luck (or Han!) had led him there.

4. Imperial- style yogurt [only for royal family]
Served only in the Forbidden City, dating back to 1760, this yogurt follows the original recipe -> one of the intangible cultural heritage in Beijing

We stopped at a pastry shop where I didn’t try anything, but I did add Jujube and Guokui to my travel provisions (and of course I ate it before I even thought about taking a photo)

5.Daoxiangcun [mostly for nobles, but later enjoyed by all]
a famous pastry brand that originally came from Suzhou, because of emperor Qianlong ‘s love, it became Beijing’s identity. “Jujube Flower Cake”: usually means good fortune, people love it especially in important occasions and festival or as gifts. “Hawthorn Guokui”: children love it most, as a symbol of sour&sweet & nostalgia.
Ox Tongue Pastry- southern flavor.

I wanted to add tanghulu to our snack repertoire, and luckily we were able to get three on a stick instead of six.

6.Shichaha[enjoyed by royal family, later open to public]
we tasted tanghulu (candies hawthorn sticks), which is good for digestion.
A fun story: some say emperors used to sneak out here in disguise to taste tanghulu !

7.the “old clocks” of Beijing: the Bell and Drum Towers
Drum Tower (1272)&The Bell Tower (1420) ; they served as the official timekeeping center of the capital for more than 500 years.
How it works? Moring bell, evening drum.
Meaning: daily life, cosmic order, and imperial power all struck the same rhythm

The last stop was a restaurant where we had a soup made from the water left over after making tofu. Let’s just say, “not bad.” At least it helped wash down the mustard greens, which brought a few tears to our faces due to the sharpness that rose from our noses to our eyes, but also the special taste made us cry and laugh at the same time. HP did their best to help us finish it, and the owner gave us a kind of sweet fried cake that won me over so much that I bought a portion of that for my provisions as well.

8. Douzhi: The most “controversial” snack [for Normal People]

The only snack you can only try in Beijing.
Origin: A byproduct of tofu production, a zero-waste strategy of poor families. Made from fermented mung beans, with a sour taste and high protein content
Also:
mustard cabbage root (prevents colds in winter)
and sugar fruit rolls: a classic Peking snack made from Chinese yam, dried fruit, and nuts, with auspicious meaning and completely without flour.

Han had a lecture at her university, so it was suddenly time to say goodbye at the train station. Peter accompanied me to the hotel to pick up my luggage and then to the West Station. Before that, we took a walk through Tiantan Park with the Temple of Heaven. Then I had to say goodbye to the last friend I’d met on this trip. (I might see Ben again in Ürümqi, but that’s rather unlikely.)

Two men, one in his forties and his father, shared the apartment with me (another man joined us later, but I didn’t realize that until he left Xi’an in the morning (it was about 12 hours from Beijing to there, by the way).

The father then offered me a large red apple that he had previously polished. It smelled good, but tasted bad, and was so mealy that it was almost impossible to eat without pieces falling out. Of course, I did my best to enjoy it. He wanted to peel his own apple but didn’t have any tools, so I offered him my plastic knife, which I’d had since Chengdu. He was happy with it, but in the end, he wanted to throw it away, peel and all. I tried to explain to him that I wanted it back, and he showed me that it was broken. But in the end, I took it anyway because at least one part still worked.

I have two days of train travel to, and one day in Ürümqi, one day on the bus to Almaty ahead of me, and another two days of travel to Bukhara, where I plan to stay for two nights to recover before the Turkmenistan tour begins.

before the Turkmenistan tour begins.

At breakfast, I heard the Austrian dialect for the first time since Yunnan, and in this case, it reminded me of everything I DON’T miss about Austria…

The food was 50% Chinese-Western (I myself chose to 90% Chinese), and the tourists were at least 80% non-Chinese.

I started a long walk along Beijing’s Ming City Wall Ruins Park, continued to the Chinese Women’s and Children’s Museum (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/N%C3%BCshu), then tried to get a tube scarf from Jack Wolfskin (closed) and then from Nike (expensive and not what I wanted, but I didn’t have time to be picky!), and then Han & Peter (=HP) and I met up an exploration tour.

I’ll leave the details in the photo captions.

On the way, HP recommended I try a special tea from a shop called Changchuntang (= Changchun Hall), which focuses on combining traditional Chinese medicine with modern bubble tea, thus uniting health and flavor. I chose an almond tofu milk tea, and the taste was surprising and delicious.

Before that I had tried a glazed fruit I was unfamiliar with: Chinese hawthorn, slightly sour and with five large seeds, which is also used in TCM. The fruits seem to be much larger than what I associate with hawthorn in Austria, about the size of a plum. The glazed version on a stick is called tanghulu.

So I wasn’t that hungry at dinner, but that didn’t prevent me from again eating food surprises and finishing everything what was not too spicy for me.
We had another extensive and profound discussion, which gave me plenty of food for thought and rethinking. One can never be too careful about Western prejudices in general and personal ones in particular, whether they’re due to the media, other information, or simply my own biases.

Let’s say I fled from Hosam to the lounge yesterday, but he promised to follow me after I showered, and he did. A Mexican professor was also there, and she was desperate because she couldn’t do anything on her laptop, even though she goes to Shanghai every year. I offered her my Magic file, but first Hosam tried to get her a working VPN. After an hour (!), they gave up, and we tried to activate the magic on her laptop. But now she had to install “Runtime” first, and Hosam managed that and started the magic. So, the night had been cut short in that respect, but there was no good reason to shorten it even further by waking up early. My train was due to depart at 11:53 AM, I had decided to leave the hostel at 10:00 AM (more than early for a 2 km walk), and packing would take a maximum of 10 minutes—so why again being nervous?

At 7, 7:30, and 8:00, Hosam’s alarm went off for 10 minutes each—he didn’t respond. So I thought I’d better check his vitals before leaving the room, since it would be days before anyone found him. After some knocking and shouting, he peeped out from behind the bed curtain , let’s say sleepy, but alive and well. I said my goodbyes and went back to the lounge for another two hours before walking to the station. I didn’t make any mistakes with the different arrivals and departures levels, but I still had to learn something new, as the different waiting areas here served multiple platforms respectively. This allowed for a continuous flow of passengers through the gate, instead of long queues that formed and then rushed through altogether.

When I arrived in Beijing, it was quite chilly for me, but that’s why I bought something warm – Han had warned me!

I walked from the train station to the hotel (4.5 km), but there they couldn’t find my booking. First, one person wanted to see everything I could show, then a second, a third, then they had the manager on the phone, then a fourth person to show and explain everything again (with photo translation to complicate things even more), and after an hour, they told me I needed another hotel.

So I booked another hotel. But after all that, I was so discouraged that I took a taxi. Yes, it’s much faster (without traffic jams like that evening) and so convenient…

I ended up paying less for a hotel that would have cost twice as much because it was a last-minute booking. Additionally the hotel is in the city center, meaning the Forbidden City is within walking distance (4 km).

The window in the room was open when I arrived, and I made myself some tea to warm up. (In China and Taiwan, no hotel has been without a kettle, cups, and tea bags.)

Hosam wanted to exchange money, and since Zotter didn’t open until 11:00, I had time to accompany him. A bank we’d seen on various maps didn’t exist, and even the locals didn’t know it. The Bank of Shanghai was still closed, so he wanted to go back to the hostel, and I continued on to the “International Fashion Center,” where Zotter has one of those brick buildings.

I wanted to use the time for buying something warmer for Beijing and the following stops, but they also opened later, as stated on the website.

The first tour usually begins at 12 noon, but I had a dedicated tour guide and was able to start earlier. There was only one other person in the cinema for the introductory video (which is partly compiled differently than I remember from Austria), and I was alone on the tour. It is similar regarding the possibility to taste, just less choice but still enough to get too much. You can also design your own chocolate.

Everyone was very friendly, which may have been due to the fact that there were only three guests besides me. For different employees asked me about my China trip and Austria, etc.

Buying warmer clothes wasn’t easy, as, on my side, I was hesitant to buy anything, as I already have more than enough at home and, on the other side, the stores didn’t have the things I wanted. So, ultimately, I wasn’t entirely satisfied, but at least I won’t be cold (or less than I would be without these clothes).

Next, I went to Yuyuan Old Street and the garden. I should have started with the garden, because after the street with all the tourists and pushy street vendors, I wasn’t motivated enough to stand in line with hundreds of other tourists to visit it. If you want to see photos (at least better ones than mine!), you can find plenty online!

My last stop was People’s Park. I had the information that the wedding market takes place there mainly on weekends, but Friday is obviously not weekend enough, so I just visited the beautiful park as a small compensation for missing Yuyuan Garden.

Admittedly, I I felt my legs after the long walk (at least 20 km for the actual routes, but also in the shops and at Zotter and for looking around), but even a map showed me that I would walk the last 2 km faster than taking the subway, so I did.

Shortly after my arrival, Hosam also came back and wanted to show me lots of TikTok videos, some of them even twice. They showed him in cars, on motorcycles and horses, in the swimming pool, and at work. He’s skilled in editing that on his phone, and his photos from Shanghai look better than mine, but I’ve come to accept that. I only get annoyed when I miss a good opportunity (for a not-so-good photo) because I’m lazy, too shy, or inattentive at the right moment.