After only a day and a half in Urumqi, I was on the move again and set off for the station to catch my train to Beijing. Not wanting to rush and be overly stressed in an environment where I couldn't speak or read the language, I allowed more than one hour to walk the 10 minutes to the station, buy some food for the journey and find my train and platform. Ample time I thought.
Anticipating more expensive prices inside the station, if food was even available, I bartered with the street sellers on the square outside. I managed to lower the price on some things, but I couldn't help but feel I had been cheated on some of my purchases.
Of course bartering always takes longer than picking fixed prices items off the shelves and it takes time in a way that you're less aware of because your focus is on not getting cheated, getting the price lower if it's possible, and if the seller three stalls down would do the same item cheaper. By the time I made my way to the station entrance, my time safety margins had been heavily reduced, but how long can it take to enter a station and find a platform? Longer than I imagined is the answer! Since every station I'd ever been to operated in the same basic way, I hadn't considered that China might do things differently.
My first reason for concern was the the sizeable queue at the entrance to the station. When that queue didn't move for the first minute or so after I joined it, I really began to stress. Would I even be able to get inside the station in time!? I began to size up my options, side-stepping this way and that to get a better view of the action at the front and try and identify a fast-track round the barriers to the front, where I might be able to pull the 'bewildered foreigner' trump card to get special treatment. As I was dithering, the queue began moving again and soon enough I was able to see the cause for the hold up: they had an airport-style baggage scanner at the doorway and everyone entering the building had to put all their bags through this thing, creating a bottleneck.
Beyond the security check, the large station entrance hall seemed almost deserted. Where did all the people go!? Glancing briefly at my ticket, a nearby official waved me in the direction of the escalator. On the 2nd floor (1st floor is ground floor in China) I easily found the cavernous waiting hall for my train and breathed a sigh of relief as I still had 10 miutes or so to spare. Unlike the empty entrance hall downstairs, the waiting hall fulfilled my Chinese station expectations as it was filled with a sea of people milling around.
However, the official on the door wouldn't let me join the masses, indicating for me to go to the equally vast waiting hall opposite, which was another number 1 hall. This new waiting hall seemed more like business class travellers, which I felt was a bit of a shame as I'd imagined travelling with the masses, but oh well, never mind. Presenting my ticket for the umpteenth time, I was yet again refused entry! This time I was waved deeper into this waiting hall to a separate area.... oh no... I was travelling first class!
Not a sentiment most people express I'm sure, but had I been more involved in the detail of my Moscow to Beijing trip, then I would never have paid for first class! Even more than the excess money spent (£50 at a guess), it was disappointing because I'd like to explore the 'real' China (whatever that may mean) and it felt vaguely embarressing to be a ragged, sweaty traveller lugging a large rucksack amongst sharply dressed individuals pulling small, clean, wheeled luggage. I found a perch on one of the plush leather sofas opposite a Chinese James Brown and his wife, and tried my best to be inconspicuous.
After a short while we had our tickets checked one more time and were escorted to the platform to board the train.
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