It seems particularly unfortunate that the first time I discover that Doushaguan doesn’t appear on any map currently available on my phone is while I’m on train 5635 ostensibly en route. Of course, under normal circumstances whether or not somewhere is on a map is quite irrelevant, but in this case a) Trip.com has helpfully informed me that my inn is 2 miles away from the station b) close observation of the route indicates we are advancing into a gorge which makes it likely that the station or the inn or both are half way up a mountain c) further close observation of the caliber of the stations we have already passed makes it highly unlikely taxis will be conveniently waiting outside as they are at every one of the thousands of other Chinese stations nationwide. Still, I tell myself, 2 miles isn’t too far a walk at a pinch. I choose to ignore that the station is on one side of the river and the inn on the other, and the map also fails to show a bridge.

It didn’t start well. Train 5635 departs from its own special railway station buried deep in the industrial hinterland of Yibin. The taxi driver has never heard of it, nor has his navigation app. ‘I was sweating’ he tells me when we finally alight on it. So was I, I reassure him. This seems to be the waiting ‘room’.

The rolling stock last saw action during the Long March. Note there is no platform and all 5 of us passengers must haul ourselves up a ladder to get on board.

A foreigner has never traveled on this train or so I’m told by everyone who passes my seat. I am ushered to the ‘ladies section’ and the staff parade past at 15 minute intervals to marvel at the sight (it is a five hour trip).

This one is particularly interesting. He spends the first part of the trip either asleep or drinking tea, but then dons what looks like highly sophisticated virtual reality glasses. To what end is not clear

We are basically zig-zagging from one side to another of a river hemmed in by dizzyingly steep mountains with occasional villages clinging to the mountainside. I begin to worry about the potential topography of this upcoming 2 mile walk.

No says mom, there won’t be any taxis. Rubbing fingers is how to indicate goodbye.

Reassuringly the station does exist if in name only (there is no apparent indoor component)

Remarkably four other folks get off with me. Even more remarkably a car is waiting, clearly for them, but also, possibly, for me? I have little choice except go with the flow since my fears about the walk have materialized, and it is decidedly unattractive. Despite this unanticipated convenience I do not have a good feeling in part because the driver is unwilling to make eye contact with me (to be fair he is slightly wall-eyed) and in part because it is freezing cold and raining. When we arrive after about 10 minutes, he condescends to engage with my translation app to tell me the trip is free (this will be important shortly).

An unprepossessing start. The receptionist is evidently trying to conserve her body heat. She never does wake up

If possible the room is even less attractive than the lobby. The window doesn’t shut properly. Did I mention it’s freezing cold and raining?

This is the room I thought I’d booked (from the website) clearly in a whole other hotel, not here. Can I have it? I ask the other receptionist who is awake ‘No’ she says decisively.

The thought of having to engage with a squat toilet in the middle of the night is not appealing. Neither is standing in the toilet to have a shower. The hot tap in the sink has been disconnected.

After the police have shown up with full pomp and ceremony to register my passport , all hell breaks loose. It is not helped by my Microsoft translation app (Google translate is unavailable even with an iron-clad VPN). MTA has some endearing features – it translates the intake of breath before starting to speak as ‘belch’ – but also randomly assigns gender which is not helpful when having a conversation in mixed company, and is also terribly conflict averse, devolving into metaphor and euphemism (in both languages) at the drop of a hat. For example, when I go downstairs to beg for a towel:

Mr Wall-Eye: One hundred yuan (only $15 but a significant sum here)

Me: What for ? Is it for the trip from the station? (The only service I have received since I have prepaid my room which costs $17 a night)

Mr W-E: Right

Me: Can I ask you why? If we have all paid 100 Yuan then the trip will have cost 500 yuan ($70, a fortune since a normal 10 minute taxi trip costs $1, and probably a week’s wages) or am I paying for everybody, in which case why? I don’t know these people.

This is TMI so I break it down into the 3 essential concepts. The following is taken from the actual MTA transcripts:

The owner’s wife: It’s different in the south, they themselves pay a hundred.

No way in hell are Chinese people going to pay this sum (especially those Chinese people), so I’m damned if I will be taken for a ride so to speak

Me: Really?

Mr W-E (shouting): Lao looked in the north to see that he had a child Lao Tzu.

OW (shouting): Ah don’t you mean that you misunderstood, do you live alone? Pay attention to this, is it 100Y? It’s not expensive, we will open it at home and open it for 80 and we will pick you up and them, they love you in this family, and they don’t live in the same way.

Mr W-E (shouting): It’s not that you understand this person, the four of them they’re all the way. Their room fee, they’re all out of you. It’s your room and the fare, are you living alone, what’s going on?

Me: But that’s not the point, how many people live in the room. The room is separate from the travel.I have paid for my room already.

OW: If you live alone your fare and room will be doubled. Do we open it in the front of our house?

OW: Was he deceived into getting into the car? Hello, hello you got off the car by yourself, didn’t we lie to you, you are the tail number of the car.

Me: I asked him again and again how much this will cost and he wouldn’t tell me, Let’s finish this now, it’s enough. I will ask the other people upstairs for an explanation. I can’t understand yours.

Meta translation. OK we tried to screw you, will you accept our bogus rationalization? And my answer is it’s a bit much, especially for a communist society

I go upstairs where the other party are lounging in their rooms, all ears (this is a very small place).

Me: This man downstairs charged me 100Y for the car trip

Other man upstairs: Charge me 100Y, you can’t understand we can’t understand. I have a laundry shop, don’t wash me, wash the sweat.

Meta translation. You’re on your own doll. We made our deal, you’d better make yours.

Me: OK I’m giving it to you but I’m not happy about it

OW: You can go to other inquiries to see how much the room costs, do you pay attention to our world. You can ask in other places, can you go consult?

Me: I feel like I’m trapped here and I’m being cheated

Meta translation. Foreigners are a pain in the ass why do we even bother.

At dinner at the best local specialty place, I am able to convince the lady chef that I can’t eat a kilo of fish on my own and she relents and cooks me a delicious soup with merely a pound (mostly bone thankfully).. The sous chef demands to know how old I am and we have a moment of female solidarity

According to Chinese Yelp this is the best restaurant in Doushaguang (and it is not on the map either)

Only half a kilo of fish and delicious home made tofu, I am restored.

Ladies need to stick together

On a whim I wander further down the street (this is clearly the high class part of town) and stumble on a convivial little hotel

Yes they can take foreigners, yes they have a room, yes I can see it and yes it costs $17 a night. Things I didn’t realize until later: It doesn’t matter that the front door is open because the inside is not heated, so everyone just keeps their winter coats on.

There is a heater under the table, enclosed by the heavily padded curtain. The charming daughter-in-law and her friend the doctor’s wife invite me to stick my legs underneath too.

There is also a Western toilet in the bathroom. The linens and towels however are paper.

I retrieve my belongings from the hell-hole at the other end of town. The owner’s wife follows me shrieking and throwing money (none of which totals 100Y I notice). I make a dignified exit.

Reasonable folks might want to know exactly why Doushaguang is even on this itinerary. It turns out that in the time of the warring states the Northern Silk Road and its Tibetan tributary were non-functional, and so alternative routes were needed to export silk. Chengdu, which is in between X’ian and Leshan on the map, took over as the hub since Xi’an was beleagured. Evidently, there is only one pass between Sichuan and Yunan and that pass, the Dousha Pass, goes through Doushaguan forming a critical constituent of the Southern Silk Road. What better segue from the Buddhist theme of the North to the Silk Roads theme of the south, and getting a taste of hinterland China to boot.

The view from my window in the morning. I’m hoping that it is not included in today’s hike

We know we’re in the right place because the bronze horses have followed us here (no camels this far south). Doushaguan is more focused on actually building the road than what traveled on it.

It was called the 5 meter road for obvious reasons, and this supposedly is the only surviving portion. Or rather, given the Chinese talent for marketing, it’s the only portion that is currently being promoted. Only a handful of tourists; it might help if they made arrangements to appear on a map.

The Dousha pass of the Southern Silk Road links Sichuan with Yunan provinces. The few other tourists resolutely head for the top. However this outfit is not run by the Governmental organization deeply committed to universal access, and so has definite death trappy potential, so I give it a miss (did I mention that it’s freezing albeit not raining at this actual moment).

There is not much else to do in Doushaguan besides freeze and wander round the village. I stay away from the despicable upper town and fortunately in the more decorous lower part, news of last night’s altercation seems not to have sullied my reputation

Old ladies unsuccessfully trying to get warm regard me with an expression that can be interpreted as sheer disbelief

I am presented with fat toddlers for approval

The real ice-breaker is when the middle schoolers show up. Before I know it they have brought their books for an impromptu English lesson in the street. We agree to read ahead to Unit 6 to impress their teacher. Then we work on the ‘th’ sound. ‘Don’t be afraid to stick your tongue between your teeth’ I tell them, ‘It’s a very important sound in English’. The next morning I am woken up by a chorus of ‘ths’ as they pass under my window on the way to school.

Scenes from Village Life

This prosciutto equivalent is a local delicacy. The propane torch adds a je ne sais quoi

I thought it was cheese but it’s pressed tofu

The best breakfast dim sum, by a dim sum master

The next morning, horrors! For some inexplicable reason, tickets for the 5636 in the return direction are released only the morning of, and the website indicates all are sold out. A desperate email to Vivi yields no satisfaction; the system is down, no tickets for sale. There is literally no alternative transport out of town. If I go down to the station, how likely is it they will throw their most exotic customer off the train? Mine host has offered to take me, and I insist on leaving 2 hours early. He won’t accept any payment.

These weekenders are also at the station 2 hours early desperate not to be stuck in Doushaguan for a minute longer than absolutely necessary. When the train finally arrives it is 90% empty, and I am treated like the communist equivalent of returning royalty.

It is still raining