A Summer in Harbin: Post the Eleventh: C'Mon N Ride It (Dandong 1 of 5)


The view of North Korea across the Yalu River.

"Dandong (simplified Chinese: 丹东, pinyin: dan1dong1), previously known as Andong and Antung, is a city in Liaoning Province, Northeast China. It lies on the border between China and North Korea, which is marked by the Yalu River, and is the largest border city in China."
~ Wikipedia, keyword: Dandong

The Sino-Korea Friendship Bridge leading from Dandong to Sinuiju, DPRK.

Salutations! I am back from a fantastic weekend trip to Dandong in Liaoning Province. Because the trip included a variety of activities (and also because I have hundreds of photos), I've decided to split this post into five (whoa there, 魏德, calm down!) posts, otherwise I wouldn't truly do justice to the city of Dandong and the travel experience as a whole.

Part I: Trains

A small Chinese town in the countryside of Jilin.

There are many options for transportation within China ranging from the lowly tour bus to the regal (and sometimes questionably safe) airplane. The most cost-efficient means of travel, however, is the train: for very little money, one can travel from northern China to southern china in a day or so. Chinese trains come in different types, sizes/lengths, and speeds (they've a new 300 km/h bullet train that runs between Beijing and Hong Kong if you're looking to empty your bank account). One thing that doesn't change is the accommodation options. Every train has at least four of the following five "classes": soft-sleeper (luxurious compartments with doors and air-conditioning with four bunks, each bunk with its own light and super-soft mattress), hard-sleeper (sturdy six-bunk compartments sans doors and air conditioning for the entire car), hard-seater (barely cushioned straight-back benches of four or six in a non air-conditioned car full of standing people), soft-seater (reclining cushioned seats of three or four with no standing people), and standing (your body is allowed to be on the train - that's about all).

China is a developing country, which means that buying train tickets is a full-blown nightmare since there isn't an online system (only time I've ever missed Amtrak) and you have to wait in lines years long in order to ask the grumpy attendant behind the window for a ticket only to find out that all the trains going to your destination are sold out for the next two weeks. Two weeks ago, two fellow Yalies and I went to the on-campus train ticket shop to purchase tickets to Dandong. We stood in line for about half an hour in a room averaging about 95 degrees before getting to the window where we learned that tickets for July 14th weren't on sale until the next day. SAGNIDGMSKLDG. One of the Yalies and I went back the second day at 8:15AM and stood in line for over an hour in an non air-conditioned dark staircase to purchase six hard-seater tickets to Dandong (there wasn't anything else available) for 55 kuai (plus a 5 kuai service-charge) apiece. Three days later, we went back and stood in line for another hour behind a man who obviously had been to the gym earlier that day and obviously had neither showered nor applied deodorant. We managed to get hard-seater tickets from Dandong to Harbin East Station (see SKETCHY) for July 17th for the same price. Overall we spent less than 20 USD on 1132 kilometers of travel. Not too shabby.

Oh wait, JUST KIDDING. The day (or rather, night since it was 9PM) of departure, the six of us arrived at the Harbin (regular) train station an hour and a half before our train left. We got to the terminal to find that our train wasn't posted yet. After waiting an hour, our train finally appeared about 15 minutes before it was supposed to start boarding. We waited 30 minutes. Then 10 more minutes. Then the board with our train information changed to say that the train was slightly delayed, but it would be there soon. Soon turned into 5 minutes, then 10 minutes, 20 minutes, 30 minutes. The Chinese people around us began muttering amongst themselves as time ticked on and other trains came and went. Finally our train disappeared all together. No one moved from line, though everyone panicked. Then it reappeared and guards came to unlock the gates to let us board. But then they decided it wasn't time yet and made us stand in line for another 10 minutes. During those 10 minutes I was slowly flattened between my fellow Yalie and a tiny Chinese woman as the crowd slowly surged forward against the closed barrier. Finally, they opened the gate and we all dashed to the platform.

Once we arrived at the train, we immediately tried to upgrade to soft-seater, hard-sleeper, anything they had. We were rebuffed at once - the train was sold out. We made our way to the hard-seater car and were appalled: the car was PACKED with sweaty Chinese men, women, and children sitting in seats, on seat-backs, on stools, on the floor, EVERYWHERE. The fans on the ceiling did nothing to abate the sweltering yuck in the air. We managed to trip our way to our seats (Chinese eyes following the crazy 外国人 foreigners the entire time) to find that not only were they already full, there was also a woman sitting on a self-provided stool in the space between the seats. After graciously kicking out the squatters, we sat down and the stool-woman sat back down in our aisle. We all looked at each other and then at her. She looked at us and then turned to the man squatting in the aisle and wondered aloud who we were. She wasn't moving. Great, I wasn't planning on using my legs anyway.

Our train car on the way back. I don't have any pictures from the ride to Dandong since it was too crowded for me to access my camera.

This is my favorite: you're busy talking to your friends when suddenly someone's bottom appears next to your face.

Luckily the train back to Harbin East Station didn't get more crowded than this.

The train finally began to move and the breeze in the open window successfully fought back the heat in the train car. We conversed amongst ourselves, much to the fascination and entertainment of our fellow travelers who crowded the aisle to watch us speak. Every now and then they would interrupt our conversation to ask where we were from, where we were going, and why on EARTH did we pick hard-seater. The stool-woman gradually began taking it upon herself to answer these questions for us, as well as add her own commentary (e.g. she couldn't believe we chose Dandong as a vacation spot, didn't we know better?).

At around the fifth hour (of thirteen), confrontation finally arrived. Stool-woman attempted to climb up our bench to sit on the seat-back like others around her. You wish, lady.

"What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm going to sit up here because it's too hot down here."
"These are our seats."
"Look, they're doing it."
"But these are our seats!"
"Everyone else is doing it," she said, proceeding to climb up. Everyone on the car was watching this exchange as if it were a TV program. At that moment, I decided to make a stand.
"Not cool. You cannot sit there."
"Why not?"
"These are our seats. We paid for them."
"I'm just going to sit up here."
"Okay, well we paid for these seats, so every part of them is ours, including the seat top. My friend has already told you that you can't sit there, so come down. Now."
"But everyone else is-"
"I don't care if everyone else is sitting up there, we paid for these hard-seats, so we may do what we like with them. You have a standing ticket, not a seat-ticket, therefore you may not sit here. Is that clear?"
"I'm sitting here."
"No, you are not. Come down, now!"
"Just a minute-"
"I said come down! Right now!"

She came down. I glared at her before waving away thanks from my companions. For the three hours before she left the train, she did not engage us in conversation nor did we her.

At that moment (and afterward), I felt many feelings. One was fury at being scoffed by a woman for over four hours and then being expected to provide her with a seat (oh, the nerve!). One was guilt at becoming so angry over a smallish matter (though at the time, the car's temperature persuaded us that adding a body to our already cramped seat bench was not a good idea). Another was pride at successfully winning an argument in Chinese with a Chinese person. The last one was discomfort at having used my Chinese abilities for what I felt was nothing more than selfishness and evil.

As it turns out, Americans and Chinese have different ideas of what these tickets mean. In the US, a ticket with an assigned seat means that the owner of the ticket is granted possession of the entirety of the seat; no other person may use it in any way, shape, or form. In China, a ticket with an assigned seat means that you have purchased the right to sit down in the general area of your assigned seat. If someone wants to sit on your seat back, that's okay. If you get up to go to the bathroom or if you haven't yet boarded the train, they may sit in that seat until the ticket-holder returns and demands (with ticket in hand) their seat.

ANYWAYS, thirteen hours (and numerous leg-cramps, stares from Chinese, neck-breaking naps, etc) later, we arrived in Dandong at 10AM.