Three Days on the Yangtzi - Sittin' in the Railway Station

A group of Chinese men stood along the sides of the docks holding name cards. They wore the ubiquitous dark gray suits with the labels on the sleeves and chain-smoked cigarettes. One man held a piece of cardboard with about 6 Chinese names and “K E I T H” carefully printed in big red block letters. He walked up to me with a big smile and stated in English, “You are Keess. I take you hotel. Come.”

He whisked my friend Rachel and me and about 20 very sleepy Chinese tourists to a bus. The bus dropped us at a very comfortable yet inexpensive hotel in Yichang. Rachel and I both needed to get back to Nanjing by Monday for work/school so we decided to get up at the crack of dawn to try to buy a train ticket home.

A 2-hour blissful sleep followed. At 5:30 AM we checked out of our hotel and hailed a cab on the quiet and still dark streets of Yichang. I asked the cab driver to take us to the train station. He looked at me funny and, with a raised eyebrow, turned on the meter. He literally drove around the corner and stopped the cab in front of a hill. The train station was on the top of that hill accessible only by a narrow street. Yichang is a small city by Chinese standards with probably only 1 million people and everything in the city was dead quiet except for this street. Hordes of people were trudging up or down the hill lugging huge bags of belongings. Food stalls were cooking breakfast and peasants were eating, squatting, smoking or sleeping on their bags – people were literally everywhere. This was not a good sign.

As we approached the station our worst fears were confirmed. Thousands and thousands of people were trying to buy tickets. None of the signs were in English so we wandered around confused for a while until we found the area where tickets were being sold. There were so many people in line that police officers had to control entrance to the room and forced everyone to queue up. The line snaked out of the ticket office through the courtyard and out on to the street. The man pointed us to the back of the line and there we stood about number 1,782 and 1,783 in line to buy our tickets.

This was a line like no other. It was so long that in order to keep your place you had to hook your arms around the person in front of you – basically hugging them. Rachael and I were wearing our huge backpacks so the 5 foot tall man behind me kept getting knocked in the face. He handled it with a big toothless grin though as he offered me cigarettes every 5 minutes. We had to hold on for dear life as people kept trying to break into the line, causing verbal altercations and the occasional shoving match. At first we were annoyed with the scenario but the utter ridiculousness combined with 2 hours of sleep made it all seem very comical. We couldn't stop laughing and as the morning grew light, more and more people arrived and were added to the fray. Most of the people in line were farmers or laborers. Our being the only two foreigners just added to the commotion as groups of people took turns staring at us and practicing their "hallows!"

We moved about 10 feet over the next hour. Ticket scalpers popped up every now and then but none of the locals were buying from them so we decided it was not the best idea. Their tickets were probably just color photocopies.

Around 7 AM, a train pulled into the station and this is when everything transformed from comedy to insanity. The ticket line was so long that it wrapped around in front of the exit for the disembarking passengers. None of the ticket-buying people wanted to break ranks so no one would let go to let the disembarking passengers out. No one could get out of the station, yet people kept getting off the train and pushing their way forward. This created a tremendous bottleneck and the ticket line pushed outward like a bubble ready to burst.

Several disembarking passengers took the initiative to break out and charged the line to get through - leading the way with their big suitcases and red, white and blue canvas bags. The people in the line held on for dear life (Rachel and I included) and would not budge. My backpack felt heavier and I turned I saw the little man in line behind me had climbed me and was dangling from my shoulders. The disembarking passengers kept charging and we kept holding on. Ahead of us the line finally broke and was split in two. Everyone saw their chance and it was as if a football had been fumbled. The disembarking passengers rushed to get out of the station and everyone behind the point of the split rushed to get a better place in line. The little man dropped from my shoulders and bolted forward. About 5 seconds later the line had reformed only to split again and cause another scramble. Rachel and I were laughing hysterically at the whole situation.

Finally a policeman spotted us and grabbed us out of the line. “Where are you going?” he asked in Chinese. “Nanjing, officer.” “Follow me,” he said grabbing me. The policeman walked me into the station and right up to the ticket booth just pushing right ahead of everyone. I felt bad that I was allowed to cut the line but at the same time I knew that I might never make it the other way. He yelled something at the ticket lady and then walked away leaving me a little uncomfortable as 100 faces were staring right at me (not angry, just curious – cutting in line is part of life in China).

“Two tickets to Nanjing for this morning, hard sleeper, please.” I ask in Chinese, hoping they have bunks left for the 24-hour ride.
“Mei you,” the woman states without even looking up from her computer.(‘Mei you’ is pronounced like ‘mayo’ in ‘hold the mayo’ and means ‘don’t have’)
“OK. How about for this afternoon?”
“ Mei you.”
“Soft seat?”
“Mei you.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Mei you.”
“OK, why don’t you just tell me what you DO have!”
“Tuesday morning, hard seat.”
“WHAT! Today is Saturday morning!”
“Tuesday morning, hard seat.”
“Fine, give me two tickets.” I say realizing that frustrating 5 minute conversations like ours are probably the reason why there are several thousand people waiting outside for train tickets.

After that ordeal, Rachel and I decided we needed to A) eat B) use the bathroom and C) find another way back to Nanjing. All three were accomplished in the next two hours with the help of the bus station and McDonalds (yes I know what you are thinking but I had enough of boiled cabbage, pork fat and goose intestine).

The bus station was considerably less crowded and I was able to secure two tickets to Nanjing on an overnight bus leaving that night at 6PM. There were no tickets left for the sleeper buses but anything is better than sitting on a hard-seat train for 24 hours. I have traveled this way before and I can assure you that there are few travel experiences more unpleasant than sitting on a hard seat for hours with hundreds of people for company and with lights that are left on all night.

We went back to the train station to sell our tickets back. There were still thousands in the line we had left. This time we took the initiative, so while Rachel went to ask the policeman a question I snuck into the station to sell the tickets back. As a 6’ 2” and 240-lb. foreigner I don’t really blend in and was spotted immediately. Because foreigners like me are not intelligent, I pleaded confusion in English and the policeman let me enter the station. I pushed my way up to the front of and sold my ticket back – getting 80% of the face value.