Stranded the middle of nowhere, with Miss World
By Earle Gale (China Daily)
Updated: 2010-10-18 09:24
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I've always been a bit leery of leaving Beijing during the Golden Weeks.
For one thing, I like it here when it is quiet. And, with so many of the city's residents trying to leave town, I have tended to think that planes, trains and automobiles are things I should avoid during the holidays as diligently as a schoolboy avoids broccoli.
But that all changed this National Day Holiday when I finally caved in to pressure from my irresistible girlfriend and agreed to get out of Beijing for a few days.
I'm mightily glad I did because, despite the crush, I learned an important lesson about staying positive and had a once-in-a-lifetime experience with an army of beautiful women while on my travels.
We decided to go to Hohhot, and, after a wonderful day in the hard-sleeper carriage with my face pressed to the window as if I were an algae-eating fish in an aquarium, we were in Inner Mongolia's capital and I was buzzing with excitement.
We decided just to follow our
noses and retired to a greasy little restaurant next to the train station where we fell into a conversation with a group of students who suggested we take a bus to see Genghis Khan's mausoleum.
We liked the idea, so, bright and early the next morning, made our way past the street-side dentists, shoe-polishers and fortune tellers to the bus station.
Soon, we were safely on board a bus rumbling out of town.
About two hours into the journey, we got the first inkling that all may not be well.
The driver's assistant edged up to us and sheepishly told us that the bus was not actually going to Genghis Khan's mausoleum.
"We're going close to it though," he assured us. "We'll drop you off as near as we can."
After almost five hours on the dusty roads, the vehicle slowed to a stop on the highway and its doors opened for us to get off.
As it pulled back out into traffic, leaving us in its exhaust-filled wake with our solitary suitcase and some basic directions, we were still smiling but, beneath the veneer, we were a little less relaxed.
We scrambled down the embankment and dragged our suitcase in the direction we had been pointed.
After an hour or so of walking under the surprisingly hot sun, we finally arrived.
Later, when we were all Genghis Khan-ed out, we marched for maybe another mile to an isolated hotel that was like an oasis in the middle of the uninhabited desert of grassland.
We arrived exhausted, hot and tired and gratefully booked in before asking the receptionist about the next day's buses back to Hohhot.
"There isn't one," she said. "Sometimes, we get a bus but there probably won't be one for another two or three days."
My stomach lurched as if I were on a roller coaster.
We went back to our room on the third floor and I looked out of the window at the endless expanse of grassland.
Suddenly, this remote location felt even more isolated than it did before. I think I would have fancied our chances better of getting back from the moon.
We looked at one another and it would have been easy to argue over whose fault it was that we followed our noses into the middle of nowhere but we just started laughing and resolved that, no matter how difficult things got, we would have fun.
Just as we said this, a coach rolled into the hotel's parking lot, then another and another.
Before long, there must have been 20 flashy buses parked outside the reception and scores of people were filing off accompanied by the clatter of high heels.
We went downstairs and asked a worker what was going on.
"Oh, it's the Miss World pageant," he said.
It was then that I realized that, even when things look pretty grim, they can turn around in a heartbeat in this wonderful world of ours and that playing it safe and staying at home is rarely as much fun as following your nose.
That evening, we gate-crashed the Miss World party, hobnobbed with the jet set, ooh-ed and aah-ed at the fireworks display and generally had a great time.
The next morning, we continued our adventure with the help of an illegal taxi to the nearest town and a bus to the nearest desert.
As we sat on the bus, my girlfriend leaned over and asked.
"Are you glad you came?"
I had to admit I was.