In the morning, the fog is so dense that I can’t see more than 10 meters. I take the bus to Longshen, then another to Sanjiang. Both towns are modern and unremarkable. The road is scenic between along a river valley, but many of the occasional small rice terraces look neglected and overgrown, and the villages are dilapidated, with leaning wooden buildings and rusty satellite dishes.
The theory was that I’d find a bus north from Sanjiang, but no such luck. Nobody speaks any English except a machine that says that the bus to [unintelligible] is cancelled. The lady at the counter suggests a complicated route that *may* go where I want, but I can’t read her instructions and don’t risk it. When trying to pattern-match the names with the schedule, I am soon surrounded by friendly people trying to help, in Chinese of course. Finally they agree with my conclusion that I should take the train, give me a time I know is wrong, and send me off. Nice people, too bad we couldn’t communicate…
Trouble is, the train leaves seven hours later and arrives in Huaihua (pronounced why-wah) at midnight. So I while away the time walking to two nearby villages, where people look at me with astonishment, watch people in the station, and with train-spotting. Relaxing, but it’s cold. People in the waiting hall smoke, spit on the floor, and drop peanut shells and orange peels on the floor. They do this in buses too.
The Huaihua Great Hotel (that’s its name) is modern and very comfortable. Of course, nobody speaks English. In the room, the minibar includes underwear, two kinds of condoms, lubricants, and aphrodisiacs. Figures, I was wondering about the tenacity of the hookers outside, although the hotel itself is a straight business hotel.
Didn’t see a Westerner all day.