Dewey's China Trip: Stories: Freight Yard

Freight Yard

Once dark sets in, I walk into the Baotou freight yard to see if I can hitch a ride on a freight train home to Beijing. I'm really getting tired of crowded, spit and urine soaked Chinese passenger trains. At first I try not to be noticed, but end up bumping into two freight yard employees, a man and a woman who are preparing a freight train for departure. They are impressed by my little Aurora headlamp, which is brighter than the bulky flashlights they are carrying. They ask me lots of questions about the US and I ask them questions about what they are doing. They frequently wave their flashlights back and forth as a signal to other workers at the other end of the train. They tell me it is too dangerous to be wandering around the fright yard, but don't actually tell me I can't.

I leave them and continue to look for a suitable train to ride. I find one; it has a flatcar with a container at the very end, so I could sit at the space at the end of the car. I figure it would be great to ride there; there is plenty of space to sit, and I'd get a panoramic view of the scenery disappearing away behind. However, there is a problem: this train doesn't have the red flashing light on the end that all freight trains have to have, so I know that the freight yard employees will eventually be coming around to attach the light before the train's departure. If I am sitting there when they come they will certainly make me get off. So I decide to watch some other trains being prepared for departure to see if there will be a chance to sneak on after the box is attached.

The two employees I met before are now affixing the red flashing light to a different, soon to depart, train. Afterwards, they just sit down on the ground at the end of the train and wait for it to leave. Damn, obviously there will be no opportunity to get on the very last car of a departing train.

Oh well, I can still get on the middle of a train, although the view won't be as good. So I hang around waiting for a suitable train to be readied for departure. I also watch with interest the trains coming in and going over the freight yard hump. Each time a train goes over the hump all the cars are disconnected in ones, twos, and threes, and roll down the hump under the force of gravity, directed by the appropriate setting of switches to make the cars roll to the appropriate outbound train, where they collide and couple up with a loud boom.

Railroad Police

A man comes along who says he is a freight yard cop. He says I must leave the freight yard. There are plenty of other non-freight yard employees walking around the freight yard, but he says he can't let an American walk around the freight yard; he'll get in trouble if I get hurt. He isn't wearing a uniform, so I'm not sure to believe him. He says I must come with him to the station and have some tea. That sounds suspicious, so I refuse. Then he calls another cop on his radio, and that cop comes to help out. Thus I have no choice but to go with them to the station.

In the station they sit me down and make me show them my passport. They have never seen an American passport or a Chinese visa before, so I have to help them decipher it. They give me lots of tea and offer me dinner, but I am still full from gorging myself in the restaurant hours before. They interrogate me for a long time and write everything down in their police notebook. Then they start asking me silly stuff, questions about my life in America, and how to write silly things in English. They put all that down in their police notebook too.

They continue talking to me for two more hours and quit writing stuff down, excitedly asking me all kinds of questions about life in the US and my travels in China. They ask me be their friend, and gave me their home phone numbers, telling me to call them once I get back to the US. They say they'd like to invite me to breakfast in the morning and give me a tour of the freight yard. Then they take me to an inexpensive but safe and comfortable hotel for railroad employees. I chat with the younger cop, who is only 22 years old. He tells me about his girlfriend and asks me about my relationships with girls. I tell him about Xiujuan, and he gives me some good advice about getting Chinese girls to like me. At the hotel I have my first good night's sleep in several days.

I sleep pretty late the next morning, then head back to the freight yard, but the other cops, who now all know everything about me, won't let me enter. I never saw my two cop friends again; they had already gotten off work for the night and had gone home. I wish I hadn't slept so late. The other cops say they will give me a free train ticket back to Beijing if I want it, but I refuse their offer.

Giant Dumplings

I sit around wondering what to do, and then decide I'd better return to Beijing. I am having a lot of fun here, but I am much too exhausted and my pack is much too heavy. I should have left the stuff I didn't need in Beijing. I figure maybe I'll return to Beijing for a day, get some rest, drop off a bunch of needless heavy stuff, and then leave nasty Beijing again and continue adventuring.

I buy a ticket for Beijing on a train that leaves early in the afternoon; I've already missed the morning train. The afternoon ticket is cheap, so I have some reservations about the quality and speed of the train, but I don't care; I know I can put up with anything by now, just so long as I don't have to do anymore walking.

I wander the streets looking for something to eat; my tours of Chinese cities are always invariably linked to my stomach. I find a place that sells gigantic dumplings. They are extraordinarily delicious. I also have a glass of hot soymilk. As I eat, people crowd around to ask questions about the US and my journeys. I eat my fill and then get up to leave. To my surprise, the whole meal costs only two RMB (twenty-four cents US).

Return to Beijing

I board the train, but there is someone sitting in my assigned seat! I am too polite to ask him to move, so I stand for several hours, then when he gets up for a minute I take the seat. Then he comes back and wants the seat back, but I say it is mine. Then he says, oh, no wonder you've been standing there for so long. As it turns out, someone else is sitting in his own assigned seat. That man gets off the train, so we both get our own seats.

The man who was sitting in my seat asks me what my GPS is. I explain to him that it is a quanqiu weixing dingwei xitong, a global satellite positioning system. He says “Oh, that's so your parents always know where you are, right?”

When Chinese people see my GPS they always think it is some kind of weird cell phone. Then when I try to explain to them what it is, they usually at first think that its purpose is to allow other people to locate me. What would be so useful about that?

The passengers sitting near me excitedly ask all sorts of questions about Americans. They ask if various rumors they've heard about the US are true: Do we really eat our beef completely raw? Does everyone really have casual sex with friends all the time? I deny all the rumors.

I'm starting to get chills and my throat hurts when I swallow, like I'm coming down with a severe cold; therefore I put on my vest and coat and try to get some sleep, but without any luck. I simply can't stay warm, even wearing all these warm clothes, but the other people on the train seem to have no trouble at all staying warm in their T-shirts.

Beijing South Station

I almost neglect to get off the train when it stops at Beijing South Station, but other people on the train arouse me from my chilly stupor and tell me I've arrived. I assumed that Beijing would be the train's last stop, but I assumed wrong. Beijing South Station is a small, not well-known station.

It's 3:00 a.m. on Saturday, September 6. I exit the station into a small square that is full of people sleeping on the ground and is buried in rotting trash. There are no public busses at this time of night, and I don't want to be ripped off by a ruthless Beijing taxi driver. I ask one driver how far it is to Beijing Normal University and he says 35 kilometers (22 miles). I know for a fact that the true distance is only 10 kilometers (6 miles), but I'm sure that if I let him drive me there he will take me for a stupid foreigner and make the trip 35 kilometers. Thus I begin to walk to Beijing Normal University.