Juihua Shan to Shanghai

(written on 16/07/09, posted on 17/09/09)

Up at 6am and I'm racing for the bus. The 13 year old girl who helps out on the hotel reception had told me that the bus left at 7am. I grab a taxi and say bus Shanghai! He says you need to pay more, it's further. Not quite understanding and sure I'm getting ripped off, he gets an agreement out of me on price that I'm not happy abut then flies down the winding mountain roads. I'm slightly concerned but enjoying it. The drive has certainly woken me up in the same way that you can't fail to be awake when you fear for your life.

We get to the bus station, I pay and he frantically points at a bus. I run over and I realise this is my bus. The taxi driver has risked the police and possibly his safety to get me this bus station at the bottom of the mountain. Now I feel bad I suspected him and therein lies my next lesson on Chinese people. If they understand what you want and they are in a position to help you, they will go completely out of their way to do so.

Feeling sheepish and trying to wave my thanks to my taxi driver, I board the bus to the usual stares. At the next stop the bus starts to fill up. Who should get on but my Buddhist monk who sits next to me. I'm not sure I'm going to enjoy this journey for the next seven hours.

By hour two he's virtually proposed. He keeps trying to hold my hand and compare our palms. I desperately look in my phrase book and there's nothing that might fit this situation. I make up a boyfriend by drawing pictures with hearts that look like some crush-struck 7 year old's scribble but he's not having it. I take to reading my book and pretending to be asleep to which he seems quite offended.

It's the longest seven hours I've had in a long while and it's a relief to hit Shanghai.