Journey from Xi’an to Chengdu – 23rd October

We took the subway to Xi’an train station. Glen is a dab hand at navigating the ticket machine and working out our journey now. Smile.

Instead of the usual condescending, and what should be obvious, safety messages/ instructions being acted out on the carriage screen, it was playing an old Tom and Jerry cartoon! I hadn’t seen those for over 50 years when I used to watch them as a child, so I was a little surprised. 

Xi’an train station is bigger and more modern than many airports we’ve been in over the years.

This is a view looking out from the station, the usual fog/smog in the distance.

We boarded the train and we were off again, leaving Xi’an and the lovely staff at the 7 Sages Boutique Youth Hostel behind us. 

We were soon heading for the mountains. 

I couldn’t get a good photo as I was battling with my pot noodle. The train supplies free hot water so it’s the ‘go to snack’ here. In fact everywhere seems to supply hot water and paper cups which is really handy for our packets of coffee too. 

The Chinese seem to just drink the hot water without adding anything to it. The cafes and restaurants always have big copper kettles with hot water in and they drink it from bowls not cups. 

Talking about bowls not cups, restaurants supply sets of china bowls and a cup of sorts (no handle) ‘vac packed’ in plastic, and then add a 2yen surcharge for it. 

Anyway back to my pot noodle. Glen and I are not sat together, I’m sat next to two guys and I’m in the window seat, so Glen is on pot noodle / hot water duty today as he has an isle seat a few rows in front. So I took the outer film from the pot, peeled back the lid and removed all of the little sachets of sauces and powder. I started to open the oily red chilli mixture but Glen said not to put it in until he had put the hot water in. Now my memory being what it is meant that by the time he returned, just a few minutes later, with the moistened noodles, I had totally forgotten that I had opened one corner already so I proceeded to open another corner and started to squeeze! Well! I was instantly covered in it! I was in a right predicament because I dare not touch my coat to get a tissue out of my pocket as I  would stain it… Luckily I had a used wet wipe poking out of the seat pocket in front of me that I’d used when I got on. But all that did was seem to spread it further! So I had to shout down to Glen for help! I must have looked a right wally. The thing is I didn’t care, no one knows you, no one can speak English so I just talk on and smile and raise my eyes and laugh and they soon stop looking at you or give you a look of understanding. I was just glad I had my colourful batik fabric trousers on so the splashes didn’t show!!! 

While my noodles soaked up the hot water I sat for ages with my camera facing the window ready to snap the amazing views once we exited the tunnels. After a while I thought I have to rest it’s obviously going to be ages but then the view appears again then back in to the next mountain tunnel. At first the Chinese guy next to me politely smiled as we both missed the photo opportunity and then as time went by and we were doing the same over and over again we were woooooing at the view them ahhhhhing together each time it disappeared before we could take a photo. First of all we had a polite chuckle then a big a chuckle and were eventually laughing heartily as we both failed to snap the amazing scenes each time.

My fingers smell of what the noodle company considers to be ‘Fragrant Beef’ and the edges of my nails are red despite a handful of tissues and another wet wipe from Glen. (On proofing this blog the next day I can report that my hands are still stained red and still have the feint smell. It took hand washing two loads of our clothes in the sink to get rid if it!) 

It took me ages to eat the noodles because I continued to sit expectantly with my camera pointed towards the blackened window waiting for the next brief photo opportunity. It was like when you stand at a window at night during a thunder storm and you never get to catch the lightening, then there is always a dramatic display filling the sky the moment you bring the camera down to rest your aching arms! I decided to give in and concentrate on eating. The noodles were the thin curly sort so when you slurped them up it was anyone’s guess which direction they would splash! 

The guy next to me was clearly torn between leaning towards me and the window to take photos or to lean back away from any splashage. Chuckle. 

Glen walked back to see me and was surprised I was still eating. He gave me a handful of sweets and as he did I dropped one on the tray of the photographer’ next to me! This was getting silly now! I felt like we were engaging too much. I picked up the sweet, I didn’t leave it there. After all It could be months before we see another packet of Maynard wine gums!

Finally my friend gave up on snapping a photograph of the lovely view …..

Talking of sleeping. I thought about the sleepy rural villages we were passing in-between the mountains, how they were seemingly scraping a living in the narrow ravine they were nestled in and how life would change for them if the farmers here were to unearth a terracotta warrior or discover a bronze chariot in their stepped terrace! (I couldn’t get a photo of the narrow ravines)

As I clear up our rubbish and put it in what I assumed was a sick bag I notice that it says ‘sanitary bag’ Now if that is what we would call  a sanitary bag in the UK, why is it not in the toilet!? No one would want to make their way up the isle to the toilet with one of those in their hand. When I went in to a toilet here the other day you had to take your toilet paper from the outside of the cubicle. It took me back to primary school when not only did you have to raise your hand in class to ask Miss Tugwell if you could go to the toilet but she had a roll of paper at the front of the class and she asked whether you wanted “one sheet or two” depending what you were planning on doing once you got there! 😳 Things like that can scar you for life!! 

As I look out at the view speeding by I notice the ‘tiny people’ in the distance tending their land, little stacks of hay or something drying in rows on each piece of ground and neat rows of vegetables.  It puts me in mind of the miniature gardens we used to make in a biscuit tin for the Annual Flower Show in Marshfield.

No matter where we are I always see something that remind me of home.