Days 5-7: Duxun to Raoping to Shantou
Day 5 totals: Duxun to Raoping: 103.87km, 338m, 18.4km/h
Day 6 totals: Raoping to Shantong: 48.33km, 197m, 14.7km/h
Day 7 totals: Off day
Anxiety sometimes gets the better of me.
Outwardly I may not appear agitated, but subconsciously I'm aflutter. I didn't sleep well the night before my flight to Xiamen, nor the night before the first long ride of this journey, nor last night. I understood that I had to wait until morning and the opening of the shops to resolve my problem, but the inner mind continued to fret over what turn this trip my take today.
I'm delighted to report that the broken spoke has been repaired, which will allow me to stay on schedule. Yesterday it didn't seem it would be so easy. After checking in at the hotel, I asked the concierge if he could help and he pointed me to what was supposed to be a bike repair garage. The young guy who looked inconvenienced to get out of his chair to field my inquiry looked at the bike and said "no." A kindly woman in the neighboring shop directed me to a place a few blocks over. The woman there seemed polite but couldn't help. She sent me to another shop that obviously handles only motorbikes and scooters. Along the way, I passed a bicycle shop. The woman there looked at the wheel, felt the spokes, and said something in Chinese that obviously meant no help was forthcoming. I asked if she could text her reply so I could translate it, but she just walked away. There were a few more repair shops listed on the map, but the emerging pattern was that no help was to be expected.
After a shower and a snack, I did a little internet searching, found a few bicycle retailers within a 2-3km range of the hotel, and determined to set out to find them this morning. The first one said no, go down the block and you'll find someone to help. I didn't. I waited in front of a large retailer from about 9:30 until about 10:15 when a female in high heeled boots and a fake fur collar showed up with keys to open the door and I just knew she wasn't going to be working on my bike. She said the "master" wasn't in and that I could come back later. What time? After 13:00. Ok, so I should come back after 13:00. No. What? Go over there, she said, pointing to the Giant shop across the street. That was my planned destination, but it also seemed to be my last possible option. I was hoping not to have to use it, but I did and mercifully the store was staffed by a young man who promptly set to work and restored my wheel to perfect working order though he hardly said a word the entire 30 minutes I was there.
I then made a circuit around the old part of the city to make sure everything was in order. It was, so I then promptly set off for lunch at a Buddhist vegetarian restaurant, where I was shocked to see a customer light up a cigarette in the middle of the dining room, and nearly equally surprised to see the guy sitting next to me approach and address the smoker, who politely left the room with his cigarette. I've never seen smokers challenged like that here and I was expecting a bit of belligerence but both parties acted quite calmly and reasonably.
The question remains how I got here. I haven't written anything in two days. I intended to but quite honestly after those 100km rides, I don't have much energy for writing. Getting to the hotel is just the beginning of a process that involves removing all the gear from the bike, washing the bike and the exterior of the bags and my riding jacket, unpacking, hand washing clothing, showering, and then setting out to find something to eat. By the time I get back to my room, I'm ready to watch a baseball game (Mexican or Australian winter leagues, since you're curious), drink a beer, and sleep.
Today was a planned off day, so there's a bit of time to catch up. And right now I don't remember much about what happened on those two days apart from losing that spoke. I don't know exactly when it happened, only that at one point I noticed a regular clicking sound once every rotation of the pedals/wheels. I stopped a couple of times to see if I could discover the source. Perhaps it was the missing spoke, which actually wasn't missing but had come off the hub and was hanging from the rim. I don't remember consciously inspecting the spokes. I never thought about them. But at one traffic light I looked back and -- oh, shit -- I saw it hanging there. Fortunately, I was only 10km or so from the hotel and on reasonably well-paved road, so I could ride in without worrying too much about the wheel collapsing. I suspect the spoke was knocked off when I rode too fast over a bump or through a depression.
The day previous, from Duxun to Raoping, I stopped at a mom-and-pop convenience store for a break. I bought some cold water and some local pastry and supplemented that with fruit out of my kit, sitting out in front of the shop in a plastic chair watching the junior high school kids walk by. To a person they looked at me sitting there and whispered among themselves. A few threw out "Hello!" but never got close enough to engage in conversation except for a group of five girls who walked past, then circled around and came back to try out some of their limited English -- but mostly just giggled. The more things change, the more they stay the same. This could have been a scene from Japan 1988.
English speakers turn up at the oddest spots. Yesterday as I got closer to town I started noticing traffic safety patrols at all the intersections. The police recruit community members to stand at the crosswalks with red flags to remind citizens of basic traffic behavior, like stopping your car before the crosswalk (not on it), or crossing at the crosswalk when the light is green (rather than when there are no cars). At one intersection a young lady in a winter coat (as if you really need one at this latitude), said hello and we started a conversation while waiting for the light to change. She was, she said, a teacher with two children of her own. When I checked in at the hotel yesterday afternoon, the front desk clerk had to get someone on the phone to clarify procedures to me in English (which tells you this is not a mom-and-pop guest house type operation). The concierge couldn't say a thing in English, but had to call in his manager. But then out of the blue, while I'm walking through the lobby, a middle-aged female employee walks over and starts chatting me up. Today I stopped in front of a convenience store to recalibrate my map. Three elementary school boys were sitting out front eating snacks and started talking to me, actually engaging in very basic conversation (name, nationality, where I live, what I'm doing) that ended when I pedaled away with "I love you!"
Day 6 totals: Raoping to Shantong: 48.33km, 197m, 14.7km/h
Day 7 totals: Off day
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| On the road from Duxun to Raoping |
Anxiety sometimes gets the better of me.
Outwardly I may not appear agitated, but subconsciously I'm aflutter. I didn't sleep well the night before my flight to Xiamen, nor the night before the first long ride of this journey, nor last night. I understood that I had to wait until morning and the opening of the shops to resolve my problem, but the inner mind continued to fret over what turn this trip my take today.
 |
| If you need bicycle work in Shantou |
 |
| My savior |
I then made a circuit around the old part of the city to make sure everything was in order. It was, so I then promptly set off for lunch at a Buddhist vegetarian restaurant, where I was shocked to see a customer light up a cigarette in the middle of the dining room, and nearly equally surprised to see the guy sitting next to me approach and address the smoker, who politely left the room with his cigarette. I've never seen smokers challenged like that here and I was expecting a bit of belligerence but both parties acted quite calmly and reasonably.
 |
Today was a planned off day, so there's a bit of time to catch up. And right now I don't remember much about what happened on those two days apart from losing that spoke. I don't know exactly when it happened, only that at one point I noticed a regular clicking sound once every rotation of the pedals/wheels. I stopped a couple of times to see if I could discover the source. Perhaps it was the missing spoke, which actually wasn't missing but had come off the hub and was hanging from the rim. I don't remember consciously inspecting the spokes. I never thought about them. But at one traffic light I looked back and -- oh, shit -- I saw it hanging there. Fortunately, I was only 10km or so from the hotel and on reasonably well-paved road, so I could ride in without worrying too much about the wheel collapsing. I suspect the spoke was knocked off when I rode too fast over a bump or through a depression.
The day previous, from Duxun to Raoping, I stopped at a mom-and-pop convenience store for a break. I bought some cold water and some local pastry and supplemented that with fruit out of my kit, sitting out in front of the shop in a plastic chair watching the junior high school kids walk by. To a person they looked at me sitting there and whispered among themselves. A few threw out "Hello!" but never got close enough to engage in conversation except for a group of five girls who walked past, then circled around and came back to try out some of their limited English -- but mostly just giggled. The more things change, the more they stay the same. This could have been a scene from Japan 1988.
English speakers turn up at the oddest spots. Yesterday as I got closer to town I started noticing traffic safety patrols at all the intersections. The police recruit community members to stand at the crosswalks with red flags to remind citizens of basic traffic behavior, like stopping your car before the crosswalk (not on it), or crossing at the crosswalk when the light is green (rather than when there are no cars). At one intersection a young lady in a winter coat (as if you really need one at this latitude), said hello and we started a conversation while waiting for the light to change. She was, she said, a teacher with two children of her own. When I checked in at the hotel yesterday afternoon, the front desk clerk had to get someone on the phone to clarify procedures to me in English (which tells you this is not a mom-and-pop guest house type operation). The concierge couldn't say a thing in English, but had to call in his manager. But then out of the blue, while I'm walking through the lobby, a middle-aged female employee walks over and starts chatting me up. Today I stopped in front of a convenience store to recalibrate my map. Three elementary school boys were sitting out front eating snacks and started talking to me, actually engaging in very basic conversation (name, nationality, where I live, what I'm doing) that ended when I pedaled away with "I love you!"
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