From Guangxhou to Guilin by bullet train
Arriving at Guangxhou South Railway Station, I am quite literally stupified by the size of the place. It is a Terminal 5 amongst railway stations. It is hardly distinguishable inside from a large international airport. It is over three floors – like an airport, departures and arrivals are on separate floors.
This is a through station, not a terminal. Coming in by taxi, I counted at least 12 separate tracks coming out from under the canopy, all grey concrete on stilts. The floor is granodiorite tiles; the passengers are everywhere. There are shops, booths, queues, scanners. It does not smell of decay and weak air-conditioning, as do so many large municipal buildings in hot climates.
It is to my eye, no St Pancras: it is not built to last, and I suspect that, rather like Terminal 5, it may look distinctly jaded by 2050.
All must go through luggage scanners merely to get into the building. This is common enough at municipal buildings in China and increasingly so in the West. That said, the people doing the scanning and body pat-down work showed little interest – the scanning process is not strict. Once inside, you then find what train you are on, and go through the ticket check to go “trainside” as it were. Chinese high speed train tickets are not usable by any bearer, as train tickets are in the UK and elsewhere in the world – they are specific to you, as well as to a given seat in a given carriage. Indeed. ours had our passport numbers on them in addition to our names. But once through the ticket check, no-one was interested in our ID. Once “trainside” and upstairs, it just felt like the airside of an big international airport. And the other similarity is, access to the platform is tightly controlled – no trainspotters welcome here. We weren’t allowed onto the platform until only a few minutes before departure, The train had already swept in.
The station is only a few years old. It speaks of tremendous economic growth, this outpouring of concrete: Bill Bryson once wrote something to the effect that half of all buildings in the United States had been built since 1980, and fully 90% of all American buildings, since 1945. A similar thing is happening in China. Natalie Merchant sings, in her song “Motherland”
Where in hell can you go
Far from the things that you know
Far from the sprawl of concrete
That keeps crawling its way
About 1,000 miles a day?
It is applicable here in China, at this time of expansion, as viaducts arc across whole cities, as 150mph bullet trains flash through tunnels so expensive as to defy understanding. How do they do it? The growth of high speed rail in China today is rather like the development of the Interstate network in the USA of Eisenhower’s time. And just as the Interstate highways changed America beyond recognition, high speed rail is changing China. The old China is still visible, but it is disappearing. Go there and see it while it still exists. The old ladies brushing the street with straw brooms. The scooter riders with no helmet but an umbrella. The little stalls selling foodstuffs. The little motorcycles converted into vans, burdened under seemingly impossible loads.
Off we go and there are almost continuous announcements in Mandarin. Once through the suburbs, the train perceptibly speeds up and shoots along at 150 mph. The acceleration is noticeable, and audible, an indistinct and distant hum rather like the sound of the original Starship Enterprise at Warp Factor 10.
We plunge through misty green forests and mountains, brown rivers, farms and rice paddies. There are endless tunnels. Some long, some short. Billions of dollars have gone into building this railway – and it is only one of many.
We arrived at Guilin Bey (North) Railway Station at 12,30pm on a hot and humid afternoon. We got off the bullet train, along with myriad Chinese, and followed them down the stairs into the underpass. Chattering, walking, kids laughing, suitcases on wheels rumbling along. The Chinese experience is to be surrounded by people.
To Liuzhou and on to Zhiangziajie
Onwards: another city, another railway station. This one is different; older, more prosaic. The first two, at Guangxhou and at Guilin North, were grandiose to the point of being ridiculous. This one is more intimate, more obviously a railway station rather than a palace, and very much older, dating from the 1970’s or even older.
In the huge waiting room (a departure lounge really) we’re enjoying massage chairs at Y4 (about 40p) for 10 minutes. I say “enjoying”. My wife and daughter think they are great, and had two goes each. I found the massage a bit heavy handed.
By bullet train from Guilin to a city called Liuzhou, from whence we will take sleeper train to another city called Zhiangziajie. So many cities I have never heard of. Here is a train with a front like an aircraft, like a TGV, based in fact on a Japanese Shinkansen train, and the “dwell time” at this station (the time spent stationary in the platform) has been over five minutes. That said, the train did arrive early. As a commuter in the Home Counties, I’m accustomed to “dwell times” of less than a minute – in and out, quick quick quick…
Liuzhou is a city of over three million people. I’d never heard of it, and it is just one of hundreds of cities of this size in China. Here is the railway station:
We walked a little away from the station, having to run some light interference from taxi drivers, in order to be far enough away from the station to find somewhere to hail a “Didi” (the Chinese equivalent of Uber) where it might safely and legally stop. We took the taxi to a second railway station, called Liujiang, located in in an area of the city called Labao – a good 40 minutes by taxi. The driver was an affable fellow; himself a Chinese teacher, and he took our photo when he dropped us off. The second station, whence we arrived at dusk, was something of a disappointment. More in the “Inter-Railing” style of railway station – just a single track, a single waiting room. Outside, some shops and little cafes where we found something to eat. Though not without some stress and difficulty in establishing what we might eat: no pictures, and of course no English menu.
The waiting room was stressful, to a degree: by now we were tired and the train was late. “Do not lie down” the signs said. People laid down. Our tiresome wait was enlivened by the sign above the door for the “Security” people, where the proof-reading had failed. The “r” and the “i” had blurred into an “n”. This slightly rude sign cheered us up as eventually the train roared in, and everyone got on.