How Not To Arrive In China

Posing in front of the Oriental Pearl tower along The Bund in Shanghai, China

What’s a girl to do when you’re meant to be traveling to Shanghai, China with your boyfriend, but you break up two weeks before the trip?

You go by yourself.

As per usual, I hadn’t researched Shanghai at all. Was it a safe place for a lone female to go? Did they speak English? Are the hostels of a reasonable standard?

Mostly, no, mostly not.

This was my first international trip solo. Prior to that I had spent a week by myself in the Coromandel but that was my own back yard, and China was a little different. Okay, it was the complete opposite of what I was used to.




I booked my hostel the night before I flew out. I decided to stay at the Blue Mountain Youth Hostel. From the pictures on the internet, it looked clean, comfortable and social.

It took roughly 14 hours to get to Shanghai from Christchurch, with a brief stopover in Sydney. By this time I was keen to get my luggage and put on a fresh set of clothes. I waited patiently by the carousel. I waited and watched bag after bag that wasn’t mine pass me by.

My bag didn’t show. Feeling deflated, I went to the baggage services desk. My bag was still in Sydney.

“How long until it can get here?” I asked. Luckily I had packed a few necessary items in my carry on luggage, including a change of underwear, toothbrush, deodorant and a spare shirt.

“It should be here within a week,” the very nice, English-speaking Chinese man responded.

Stupidly I had decided to wear heels on the flight over. My feet now ached, and I had that terrible long-haul traveller smell.

With nothing to do but make my way to my hostel, I jumped in a taxi.

I handed the taxi driver a scrap piece of paper with the hostel address scribbled on it in Chinese. I had asked the man at luggage services to translate for me after discovering the majority of people in China know very little English.

According to the internet it would take me 47 minutes via taxi to get to the hostel. Feeling skeptical due to my experiences with taxis in Bali, I followed our progress on Google Maps. My taxi driver seemed to be driving the long way around. Next thing I know we were headed west, when my hostel was north-east, according to my map.




I showed him my map, and we somehow managed to understand each other enough that we were now heading in the correct direction.

Was he about to take me to some black market? 

The stunning view from outside the Blue Mountain Hongquio Youth Hostel

I’d heard some of the taxi’s at the airport are illegal. I just hoped I wasn’t sitting in one of them.

To say I was relieved when I saw the sign that read ‘Blue Mountain Youth Hostel’ was an understatement. I paid the 180 yuan I owed the driver, too tired to feel annoyed he took me the long way around.

From the outside, I was skeptical of the hostel. The only thing that gave me any reassurance was the sign showing me I was in the right place. Once I was inside it was a lot cleaner.

“There’s no booking under your name,” the friendly receptionist with a mass of blonde curls said.

I handed her the printed reservation.




“Ohhh, okay you’re in the wrong place hun! There are three Blue Mountain hostels in Shanghai. We’re the Bund, and you’ve booked in at the Hongqiao hostel.”

Finding this somewhat humorous, I asked if I could book a room for one night so I could figure out how to get to my real hostel the following day. As luck wouldn’t have it, the hostel was fully booked. My best option was to get a taxi to the other Blue Mountain hostel.

When I got there, I waded through hundred of boxes that were dumped outside the entrance. I navigated around black plastic rubbish bags that had spilled half of their contents onto the street. My opinion of China was this thus far: it was dirty. It was stinky. It was my introduction to China.

I saw a cockroach scurry under one of the chairs in the living area. Oddly enough this didn’t gross me out. What did gross me out was the amount of mold that coated the walls of my room. The big, black spores covered almost two thirds of the wall my bed lay against; the room was in such bad condition that my sheets were damp to the touch. I slept with a singlet wrapped around my face that night to ward off any bugs that would later penetrate my respiratory system.

 

Have you travelled solo? Where was your first solo trip?




Follow:

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *