“Transportation” in Beijing

Okay, so this is a chapter from my book, “Crazy China Sh**.” Click HERE for a link to the book on Amazon. Driving around this city by motorbike, taxi, tuk-tuk, rickshaw, bicycle, or shit! Even your feet! Was a crazy experience… especially when you first arrive. I was an expat who taught at an international school for 5 years in Beijing. The chapter below will give you a direct lens into the insanity of transportation in this city… along with some humor, of course. 😉 Enjoy! Happy Friday!

PS- I chose the video below for a few reasons. One, because I first heard it last week on the opening scene for Bosch, season 3. I instantly googled it and fell in love. I looked for sheet music online but alas, nada. So, now I’m going to have to learn it by ear. Ugh. The song is titled, “Going Home.” China was my home for 5 years. As more time passes (I’ve been back in the US for 2 1/2 years now), I miss it more and more. I came back to OR because I loved it here when I lived in Portland from 2006-2009. It was the only place that ever felt like a real home. Trying to make roots now… this can be hard for someone like me. 😉 Anyway, enjoy this incredibly beautiful tune.

PPS- Sorry! Since Nimbus themes has updated my Foodblogger Pro theme, it has totally screwed up WordPress. I can barely scroll, can’t add media (have to do it manually), the blocks are absurd, and cannot insert a “read more” tag, which is what I was wanting to do here. If you are looking for a theme for your blog, steer very clear of Foodblogger Pro. It was great, and now, it blows. I’ll be changing my theme very soon. A facelift for the blog! 😉

Chapter 6

The Ol’ R9 & Other Forms of Transport

Right, so if you’re a Beijing expat, you already understand where exactly this is going. At first, I thought to myself, “Awesome! You totally get to ride a motorbike and look super f’ing sweet whilst doin’ it!” My inner badass biker, or for some, chic and cool European, self came flooding out. Now this is already after the fact that I quickly—very, very quickly—came to realize that taxis were and are a waking nightmare. My favorite thing is when people insist they never get picked up because they’re a foreigner. Honestly, ninety-nine percent of the time, I’d call bullshit on that. This chapter, summed up in a polite sentence, would ring out: “Taxis, tuk-tuks, bikes, OH MY!”

There were so many times when the taxi driver would ask you where you’re going, and then tell you, “No,” in Chinese, of course (reminder: taxi drivers, store clerks, and most people here do not speak a lick of English… a lick…). Why, you ask? Well, because they’re not going that way. I was not under the impression that taxi drivers had “a way” they were going. In Beijing, apparently they do. The first time I got in a taxi here, I thought I was going to die. Where was the seat belt? Why were we going so unbelievably fast and weaving in and out of traffic (on the highways, during the times it wasn’t a parking lot). Why is the taxi driver almost falling asleep? (One time, I got out because he pretty much did, in the middle of an intersection.) Why, oh why is this stench so horrid that hanging my head out of the window like a dog is the only recourse? Not every taxi stinks, but, oh Lord, so very many do! I am also extremely sensitive to smell. Once, my husband, who literally can’t smell shit, said, “I gotta get out of this taxi… now. I’ve really got to get out. I’m going be sick.” If you knew him, you’d know that actually meant something.

To be fair, the taxi drivers in Beijing are grossly underpaid and overworked. Their hours are horrifying (hence why so many look like they’re going to pass out… they are!). I’ve seen so many drivers sleeping with their feet out the window on the side of the road. I always think to myself, “Man, that sucks!” I’ve had some pretty funny and entertaining taxi rides as well. Some amazing folk drive around here, for sure! For me, they’ve helped create a culture that I consider to be Beijing.

Tuk-tuk? What the heck is that? It is what looks like a box of metal placed on top of motor bike, with fumes that could choke the life out of your brain cells; crumble in a crash, leading to a horrendous death; and try to extort you on a foreign price for a ride. But damn, I love them! They are the quickest, and often the most efficient, way to get around Beijing, as long as you’re not going too far. However, when I was pregnant, I made a very conscious effort not to take them because of the crazy-ass fumes. Again, there were no seat belts, sometimes no door on one side, or a broken door, and a seat cushion that isn’t attached and often has you sliding around. In my opinion, it’s really only comfortable for one person. They’re wildly unsafe and also illegal (the government sometimes has a week or two where they crack down on them), but they’re super stinkin’ handy in a jam, especially if you’re waiting at night in Sanlitun for a taxi ride. Oy vey! Good luck! There are also rickshaws (like a carriage but pulled by a very weak bicycle with a motor), but you really can’t be going very far, and they are only around in very populated areas such as Sanlitun.

Oh, our good ol’ R9’s! For those of you who are reading this and are not a fellow Beijing expat, let me explain. The R9 is the most popular of motor bikes that expats typically drive. There is also this other super cool lookin’ one that people drive, but it is nameless. Anyway, the issue with the R9 is that it is gas operated. Why is this an issue, you ask? Well at first, it wasn’t, not at all when we arrived in 2011. However, since the government has cracked down on illegal bikes, it most definitely is an issue. All of a sudden, two out of three gas stations would turn us down for gas. You needed to have a bike license. Then the expat response was to go and buy a fake license. This worked six out of every ten times until it simply almost never worked. This is when my hubby and many others discontinued their sweet, badass ride. Many lovely issues occurred, being a fine owner of an R9. The throttle would get stuck while driving, the engine would stop running, or as my friend put it, “sound like he rode to school with little mice in the engine,” and a variety of other super unsafe issues.

My ultimate favorite incident happened back in 2012. Our very good friend (J), decided to lighten the day with a ridiculously humorous email regarding the good ol’ R9. Below are the delightful email transactions that made my afternoon.

Dear Sir/Madam,

I have been in possession of an R9 for a month now. It is still sweeping through the streets of Beijing like a Chinese Ducati. I believe this qualifies it for inclusion in your top ten of longest running R9s. It has an amazing 433 kms on the clock. Unfortunately, I have hit a problem.

To judge by the noise coming from the rear of my fine craft, a small family of field mice have taken up residence in the rear wheel arch. The only way to silence them, for about half a kilometre at best, is to slam over a speed hump or pothole as fast as one’s bollocks can stand.

I wondered if this was a common fault on the R9 and if there is a known solution. I am thinking of introducing a large cat, preferably from a family of distinguished “ratters,” to the rear half of the bike in the hope that this solves the problem.

Best regards,

J

I believe that you should find a cat that is specifically not “distinguished” LOL. I think you’ve really stuck it to Ducati this morning as well. They’ll be reeling over this comparison all morning… not very nice, J. 😉

-H

I must say that some of the cats I’ve seen around Beijing look the furthest thing from distinguished.

-T

Is it sad to say that this ridiculous yet funny conversation is most likely going to be the highlight of my workday?

-H

I’ve missed these sorts of emails and conversations since we’ve left. We actually had one between the three of us the day I wrote this. I’ve made some pretty good friends here and certainly have had some more than entertaining moments—many of them on the ol’ R9.

I, myself, wanted a bike as well. A few months after Thomas purchased his, I went and got the bike that I deemed to be the coolest, cutest, most badass, most functional bike for myself. A Vespa. Haha. I kid, I kid, not a real Vespa, a Chinese fake Vespa, of course! Betty (my buttercup yellow “Vespa”) cost me a pretty penny. I kid, I kid, yet again. The bitch was dirt cheap. She ran me about USD 350. I love her, and I’ve missed her dearly since I left. Every time I hop on to get to work, I lose another piece of her. She’s been falling apart at the seams forever but is still totally kickin’ it. “Yes she can!” Tribe Called Quest reference (for you cool folk). And she does (insert wink here). Anyway, she is an electric bike, so I have no issues with gas or the cops, only distance. One of the best moments that Betty and I have shared together was when I was driving to work, and I noticed my throttle stopped working. No worries, it started again. “Wait, it stopped again while crossing the intersection at Yaojayuan. Oh shit. Going to brake. Wait, what? My left brake is now working as my throttle when engaged? Holy shit! Is this amazing or terrifying? Oh well, I can get to work at least.” This is the inner dialogue that became so stupidly normal but should not have been even remotely okay. Yes, I finally got it fixed.

These are the batshit crazy and totally insane ways we got around here. No one even bats that batshit crazy eye anymore. I can’t remember the last time I got into a taxi and thought to myself, “Shit, he’s going fast, too fast,” or, “Shit, he’s totally going to hit that car/person/tuk-tuk. Wait, brake, brake, BRAKE!” or, “Shit, we’re weaving, weaving too fast. This is crazy! I’m going to die! And in fucking Beijing!” Yeah, those thoughts and feelings were abolished from my body and brain approximately one month after my arrival. May we all be safe another day…