Golden Week traffic and tourist sites a vision of hell
By Emily Ford |
October 15, 2012, Monday
|
Print Edition
Print Edition
IT'S the Mid-Autumn Festival and I'm on a train, traveling north to Beijing for a visit. Most people take the occasion of the holiday week to leave town. Yet strangely, despite China's vast and diverse beauty, everyone seems to have the same idea of where to go.
"I know, let's go to the Great Wall," several million people appear to think simultaneously. "It'll be great, there'll be no one there."
I am slightly confused by this. Most Chinese I meet complain that there are too many people in their famous tourist spots. In fact, many think there are too many people in their country in general.
Yet during the holidays everyone decides to put this aside and get in their cars, in a kind of ritual ordeal of national solidarity. "It's like the British at the Christmas sales," I think.
One of the things I love about China is its ability to do everything on a vastly bigger scale than everyone else.
Vision of hell
A popular holiday activity is to post pictures on the Internet, marveling at the extreme number of people compressed into various temples, motorways and scenic mountain areas.
"Look at all these people on the Great Wall!" one says. "Crazy!!!"
I look at the picture. It looks like a vision of hell, compressed into one of the most spectacular tourist sites on Earth. The adults wear an expression of gritty determination. There are children crying.
"No one would do that for fun," I think. "Perhaps they are trying to get into the Guinness Book of Records."
The next day someone e-mails me a picture of holiday gridlock. The five lanes of traffic are packed so tightly with cars that it's hard to see the motorway. Some people have got out of their cars and are playing tennis. One is walking his dog.
I had worried the train would be crowded, too, but surprisingly it is only half full.
"This is easy," I think smugly, imagining all the people stuck in their cars. "I'm so glad I took the train."
The trouble starts when I arrive at the hotel in Beijing and realize that I have brought the wrong passport, the one without my visa in it. "I'll just brazen it out," I think. "China's flexible."
The girl at the front desk asks to see my passport. I reluctantly hand it over and close my eyes. She looks through the pages, then looks through it again. "This passport doesn't have a visa in it. Where is your visa?" she asks, puzzled.
I wonder if I should pretend not to speak English, but decide this would probably make the situation worse.
"My visa?" I ask innocently.
"Yes, your visa," she says impatiently. "We need to see your visa. Where is it?"
"Oh, my visa!" I say. "Um, it's a little complicated. You see, I have two passports and this one doesn't have a visa in it. But I do have a visa. I live in Shanghai! Gao'an Road! Near the library!"
I realize I am babbling. The receptionist is stony-faced. "I can't let you stay here without a visa," she says flatly.
The manager comes over to see what is going on and I realize the situation has escalated. They begin a rapid discussion in Mandarin in which I am able to detect the word "criminal."
I start to feel distinctly nervous. China's bureaucracy is as much a national sport as its tourism, and not to be messed with.
"I wonder if I could bribe them," I think in desperation. I look at the manager's stern face and realize that this will not be an option.
Thankfully, after an hour of calls, it transpires the police in Shanghai do have a copy of my visa. As my blood pressure subsides, I try to bring some levity to the situation.
"Have you seen how many people there are on the Great Wall right now!" I say.
"I know, let's go to the Great Wall," several million people appear to think simultaneously. "It'll be great, there'll be no one there."
I am slightly confused by this. Most Chinese I meet complain that there are too many people in their famous tourist spots. In fact, many think there are too many people in their country in general.
Yet during the holidays everyone decides to put this aside and get in their cars, in a kind of ritual ordeal of national solidarity. "It's like the British at the Christmas sales," I think.
One of the things I love about China is its ability to do everything on a vastly bigger scale than everyone else.
Vision of hell
A popular holiday activity is to post pictures on the Internet, marveling at the extreme number of people compressed into various temples, motorways and scenic mountain areas.
"Look at all these people on the Great Wall!" one says. "Crazy!!!"
I look at the picture. It looks like a vision of hell, compressed into one of the most spectacular tourist sites on Earth. The adults wear an expression of gritty determination. There are children crying.
"No one would do that for fun," I think. "Perhaps they are trying to get into the Guinness Book of Records."
The next day someone e-mails me a picture of holiday gridlock. The five lanes of traffic are packed so tightly with cars that it's hard to see the motorway. Some people have got out of their cars and are playing tennis. One is walking his dog.
I had worried the train would be crowded, too, but surprisingly it is only half full.
"This is easy," I think smugly, imagining all the people stuck in their cars. "I'm so glad I took the train."
The trouble starts when I arrive at the hotel in Beijing and realize that I have brought the wrong passport, the one without my visa in it. "I'll just brazen it out," I think. "China's flexible."
The girl at the front desk asks to see my passport. I reluctantly hand it over and close my eyes. She looks through the pages, then looks through it again. "This passport doesn't have a visa in it. Where is your visa?" she asks, puzzled.
I wonder if I should pretend not to speak English, but decide this would probably make the situation worse.
"My visa?" I ask innocently.
"Yes, your visa," she says impatiently. "We need to see your visa. Where is it?"
"Oh, my visa!" I say. "Um, it's a little complicated. You see, I have two passports and this one doesn't have a visa in it. But I do have a visa. I live in Shanghai! Gao'an Road! Near the library!"
I realize I am babbling. The receptionist is stony-faced. "I can't let you stay here without a visa," she says flatly.
The manager comes over to see what is going on and I realize the situation has escalated. They begin a rapid discussion in Mandarin in which I am able to detect the word "criminal."
I start to feel distinctly nervous. China's bureaucracy is as much a national sport as its tourism, and not to be messed with.
"I wonder if I could bribe them," I think in desperation. I look at the manager's stern face and realize that this will not be an option.
Thankfully, after an hour of calls, it transpires the police in Shanghai do have a copy of my visa. As my blood pressure subsides, I try to bring some levity to the situation.
"Have you seen how many people there are on the Great Wall right now!" I say.
- About Us
- |
- Terms of Use
- |
-
RSS - |
- Privacy Policy
- |
- Contact Us
- |
- Shanghai Call Center: 962288
- |
- Tip-off hotline: 52920043
- 沪ICP证：沪ICP备05050403号-1
- |
- 互联网新闻信息服务许可证：31120180004
- |
- 网络视听许可证：0909346
- |
- 广播电视节目制作许可证：沪字第354号
- |
- 增值电信业务经营许可证：沪B2-20120012
Copyright © 1999- Shanghai Daily. All rights reserved.Preferably viewed with Internet Explorer 8 or newer browsers.
