Chengde Signs

2009 09 15 – Day 81 – Chengde

I agree! It would be entirely inappropriate in the courtyard of a temple, as would this:

Can we jump up? Or fall down? Or climb down?

While wandering the palaces of Bìshǔ Shānzhuāng, I became a bit exasperated at the unimaginative information boards, too many of which stole small portions of my life by just describing what my eyes would be telling me if they weren't busy reading the stupid text! All was forgiven however, when I came across this beauty:

The sign reads: “The former address of the Emporer's toilet.”
Now I'm no postie, but I'm sure this address received plenty of 'Special Deliveries'!

While waiting for the train onward from Chengde to Dandong I spied the sign beneath the tv, which reads 'DO NOT GOB ANYWHERE'. This tickled me, partly because I was surprised to run into that particular slang verb, and partly because it seemed the perfect word to describe the rather too enthusiastic and vocal clearing of Chinese throats all over their streets. I had seen and heard enough of such action to feel it was a problem, even though I understand the situation is much improved in recent years.

Not So Modern Toilets

2009 08 – Beijing

Beijing has more public toilets than any other city I've been in. At face value, that might sound very civilised and progressive, but there's a very good reason for their frequency: many private dwellings in the hutongs (hoo-tong - small alleyway) don't have their own facilities.
Some years ago there was a drive to clean up the capital and the installation of many public conveniences was part of that.
I'd already got used to the squat toilet common in Beijing and much of the world, and after a couple of weeks in China I'd mostly remember to put my used toilet paper into the nearby basket rather than down the pan as the sewerage system requires, but there's one aspect of some of China's public toilets that I don't think want to ever get familiar with and that's what I'd call 'pig-sty toilets'.
If you imagine your average public sit-down toilet cubicles and then chop off the top half of the cubical so it's now about 130cms high, then you'll have a decent idea.
I'd first encountered them in the communal bathroom in the cheap hotel I stayed in in Urumqi and it certainly felt weird and exposed to walk into the cubical and still feel very much in the public space, but when you squat it does become somewhat private. There's no need for locks on the door of your cubicle as people can see it's occupied because they can see at least the crown of your head over the cubicle walls!
My most memorable encounter with this type of arrangement was while out drinking with a local on the tourist-trap hutong Nanluogoxiang (nan luogo shiang)

We were in a small trendy bar and I needed to use the toilet. The friendly staff indicated that the bar didn't have its own facilities, so I'd have to go a short distance down the side street to the public conveniences. Of course the place smelled bad, as they often do, but it was the sights, not the smells that were more unwelcome! It was a pig-sty setup with no urinal, so I had to make my way past the occupied sties to a free one at the end. The moment was so memorable because non of the sties had doors! So my walk was past a gallery of plump Chinese men, in various states of undress, sweating in the stuffy summer evening air, who stared at me passing by, their attention momentarily pulled away from their various activities – most of them were playing with their phones, at least one was playing on a PSP and one was chatting on the telephone like it was the most natural thing in the world!
I was glad I only needed a wee and could beat a hasty retreat!
Fortunately, the toilets in hostels are in full, private cubicles, so I never needed to become too well acquainted with such impersonal arrangements.

Ill on Arrival

2009 08 06 – Day 41 - Almaty

Other than dealing with each moment as it came, I'm not quite sure how I made it from the border to Chimkent, and then survived several hours waiting for my overnight train to Almaty. It's times like this that travelling with another person would be beneficial, at least you'd have someone to watch your stuff while you find a toilet. I think Imodium helped solidify the situation somewhat, but am not sure because the night was not trouble free and by the time we arrived in Almaty I was weak with stomach cramps, lack of sleep, lack of food and from all my energy being used to keep the situation under control. Having spent more than 24 hours on Imodium and still not right, I was keen to follow the instruction leaflet and seek medical attention. Fortunately for me, sharing my compartment was Muslim, an Almaty local and software engineer who had been to Chimkent for it's hot spring health spas, who had been keen to practice his English the day before, and so I had someone to approach for help. Despite his decent English, it still took a shuffle through my ever-useful pocket Russian phrasebook to communicate effectively. Panos. That's what I had. Muslim translated the recommendation of the middle-aged mothers sharing our compartment – Regadron (a prehistoric sounding rehydration powder) in a litre of water, sip all day and rest. No food. It sounded like they knew what they were talking about, but, given my medications instructions, I thought it wise that I still seek medical attention. Muslim generously helped me out in this regard, shepherding me around Almaty until we found an appropriate clinic.
A very necessary visit to the clinics toilet was brightened by this curiously named bin.

Why is this bin a fantasy bin? Who has fantasies about bins!? Maybe it's the 'swing' aspect that really sets it apart.

After a short consultation, and a small fee, I got exactly the same advice the train mums gave, and so purchased some Regadron and set about finding somewhere to stay so I could get on with the serious business of rest and recouperation.

I spent the next day laying in bed, sipping tea and my Regadron laced water, reading, writing my diary and watching Liverpool beat Blackburn 4-2... shame that it was a repeat of last seasons game as the 2009/10 season hadn't started yet.


The ever evolving sky and the calls to prayer of the nearby mosque provided structure to my day.

I later realised this day of doing 'nothing' (which of course wasn't nothing) was badly needed. Regardless of my illness, I needed to rest my brain and body from the rigours of travel. It occurred to me that I would be wise to schedule more days like this, without the illness, in my future travels to help keep my energy levels up and keep me sane.

Leaving Uzbekistan

2009 08 05 – Day 40 – Tashkent to Almaty

Eastward travel to Almaty in Kazakhstan by rail requires a road border crossing an hour or so from Tashkent and another three hours by road on the other side to the nearest city with a station, Chimkent. With no regular transport link crossing the border, Sundowners had arranged for my hotel driver to drop me about hundred metres from the border, as close as general traffic could get, and have someone meet me on the Kazakh side.

A few hundred metres of walking in the rapidly strengthening sun were required to, between and from the border control buildings, which would be fine under normal circumstances, but that morning my stomach had taken a turn for the worse and all my limited energy became focused on keeping the lid on it.

Adding to my suffering at the Uzbek departure point were a confused throng of an eclectic mix of people, ranging from locals with a basket or two of unsettled chickens to some Brits taking part in the Mongol Rally, chasing a short supply of pens to be able to fill out departure cards. The uncomfortable queuing was an exercise in mind over matter. Only in hindsight did I realise that, despite the strong warnings regarding accountability, no one checked the accommodation registration and currency exchange receipts which had dogged my decision making and flexibility.

As with arrival in Uzbekistan, crossing into Kazakhstan I had to declare the value of Rubles and Dollars I was carrying. The baggage scanning machine was a border guard and a table. He looked at my passport and arrival card, looked at me, looked at my rucksack on the table, checked no one else was looking and said “$10”, clearly giving me the choice of an uncomfortable and drawn out inspection of my bag, or easy passage. In other circumstances I would have called his bluff, but my stomach cramps were controlling my brain and it was worth $10 to pass through the border swiftly and cleanly without anything passing out of me swiftly and not so cleanly. Fortunately for me, I only had $35 on me and $10 of that was in $1 bills. The guard didn't much like the look of those, I think people here suspect $1 bills are fakes, and he was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of taking more than half of my Dollars with the $20 note, so he swiped the $5 and dismissed me to his colleague for passport stamping.


The drive from the border to Chimkent coincided with my realisation that nearly all Central Asian vehicles had a cracked windscreen.

After an unpleasant roadside snack of the local sour and salty milk and dry salty milk balls, that my driver was convinced would help my stomach, I was extremely grateful that, particularly as I was ill, I did to not need to squat over this pit toilet.

The few broken wooden slats masquerading as a floor would have made an Indiana Jones rope bridge seem stable.

Ruslan's Palace

2009 07-08 - Samarkand

Ruslan, as I mentioned, seemed to have a lifestyle that was a bit above your average train carriage guard and his large and well built home was evidence of that. I was particularly interested in the generally minimalist nature of the place and how the large bright spaces with choice details made the place feel modern, and yet certain elements we take for granted in the West were far from my understanding of modern. It definitely reflected a different way of life to where I come from.

I include this photo primarily for the evidence at the right side of the almost floor to ceiling pile of soft mattresses available for guests to recline on at social functions... presumably held here:

The main 'lounge' and my bedroom for the night. Ruslan & his youngest sister have rooms off this one.

Ruslan's mum lives in this 'wing'. The main part of the house is on the left.


A continuation of the concrete with a herb, fruit and veg garden behind. Anywhere on the concrete terrace could become a table with the placement of a matt and there always seemed to be some invaluable shade provided by one wall or another throughout the day and so it was the main social space.


Outhouse at the end of the garden houses, amongst other things, the pit toilet – simply a wooden floored room with a floorboard taken out for the hole. I was surprised at how clean it felt as I've seen plenty of worse setups with ceramics and piped water. With no door and a window opening, there was plenty of air flowing through making it near odour free.... but I never did quite understand how you were to know if someone else was already using it without them whistling, singing or talking or something! Fortunately I never had the awkward situation of walking in on anyone, or anyone walking in on me!


The bucket shower cubicle. I really enjoyed this! When the weather is so hot, an outdoor bucket wash is great!

Train to Aralsk

2009 07 25-26 – Days 29-30 - Train to Aralsk


I was glad to be the first to find my compartment and claim a space for my rucksack, especially 5 minutes later when I was joined by an entire family of six! Given that the compartment was only designed for four, I was somewhat relieved to realise that the four children and father were actually sending off their gran and she would be the only one of their group joining me. Granny Goldie, as I mentally knew her on account of her gold teeth, was a dumpy lady approximately late 60s carrying a permanently dour expression... she didn't seem to be too impressed with my existence. Shortly after the whirlwind that were her descendents deposited her on her berth, the two upper berths of our compartment were claimed by two rugged men of the earth in their late fourties – real characters who appeared to be returning home from work in Moscow, seemingly travelling independently but immediately bonding in anticipation of their shared travelling space. All three of my room-mates seemed nonplussed by my presence, particularly after the subtleties of their questions in Russian rebounded off my mirror of incomprehention. I smiled politely and tried my best to understand, but for the most part I was reduced to shrugging and looking blank. Clearly their English was as good as my Russian. Once that was sorted out, they felt satisfied enough accepting I was there, but otherwise ignoring me... and soon enough we all retired for the night.


My bed at night and shared seat in the day and corridor of our car.


The toilet – more old and worn than dirty, but dirtier than this picture communicates and dirtier than most of us used to modern facilities would like.
Washing in this space was interesting.


Dawn. There's definitely something special about the world rolling by as you fall asleep and that still being the case when you wake. Writing my diary and watching the world go by, I had a strong sense of contentment, of being in the right place at the right time, of everything being as it should be.


The train makes a stop every few hours, each between 5 and 25 minutes, providing opportunities for passengers to stretch their legs and purchase food and drink from locals on the platform. As the day heats up, a popular purchase is a frozen bottle of water which provides a steady supply of cold water as the iceblock within gradually melts. The day gets so hot that melting seems to be the most natural activity, and as my body dissolves in its own puddle of sweat, my brain melts with the banality of never-ending synth-orchestra instrumental reworkings of classic pop and rock tunes oozing from unseen speakers. The searing sun burns the Russian landscape onto my retina.

Providing for Pooch

2009 07 19 – Day 23 – Baltic Sea


I'm unaccustomed to seeing pets roaming passenger ferries so this sight was a bit of a novelty.
One guy was exercising a huge dog that he probably could have ridden, but unfortunately I didn't get a good pic.
Come to think of it this one's only labeled for cats and dogs... is that to stop people letting other animals use it, or to stop people using it!?