Several hours and a couple of showers later and we eventually break free of the cabin for a short stroll around the deck, grabbing a potted yukgaejang en route. Quite how a tongue bracingly, sensory awakening spicy beef and leak stew can be dried and compacted into a small tub and reproduced using a quick burst of hot water intrigues me. As it transpires, it can’t. But the broth does prove better than the previous days dumplings, which I'm increasingly inclined to believe were snatched out of the bin, en route to my plate.
This quaffed, we sit back, twiddle our thumbs and dream of China trying not to let one friend’s parting words of advise cloud our vision too much. “You’re going to China. Don’t bother, I’ll save you the trip. It’s shit,” he’d slurred, with the utmost sincerity, on one of our last meetings in Okpo's Blues House.
As the Chinese coast crept into view through our sizeable port hole, we packed our things and took to the deck to toast our entry into the extraordinarily great unknown with a final can of Hite. This proved a wise decision, as the one person on the boat to consistently throw smiles and looks of warmth in our direction, each time we passed her, since I first caught her eye in the sardine can-esque confines of the departure lounge, finally made her move, armed with impressively accurate English and a thoroughly confident demeanour. She asked where we were from, what we were up to, quickly tearing up and rewriting the travel plans we’d had to build from what limited information we could find on the web as she did so.
The bus station we’d worked so hard to locate and had, after some efforts, acquired the Chinese characters for would not be open for business in the afternoon. Our best bet was the train. We were welcome to join her, thereon.
Given, to date, one of the primary concerns our trip had been making it from the ferry to Shanghai, whilst contending with a massive language barrier and our own ignorance, this proved a godsend and her, our saviour. We were touched, once again, by the friendliness, inquisitiveness and generosity of the Korean people. And this one, as an extra boon, had a smattering of Chinese to assist us.
Of course, the best laid plans are often prone to failure, so it should be no surprise that those hastily knocked up on a ferry with a stranger should meet with a similar fate. Still, at least we’d made it through customs without so much as a body search or questioning stare. Given our experience of passing through Beijing airport, in transit, this proved surprising. Here, without even wishing to enter the country, our passports were given the third degree and the stickler for detail checking them even called for a second opinion, while assessing my passport photo. I tried to replicate the pose for him, but even this failed.
Once out and in the taxi, with our new best friend handling the haggling and directions, things seemed to be going well. The taxi driver was chipper and good humoured, despite having been the victim of the experienced and hardened haggler in our midst. It was upon arrival at the station when things started to look down. There were no more trains bound for Shanghai. We vested our faith in our companion, for contingency plans and she rose to the challenge, swinging us some standing tickets for a train into Xuzhou, a bigger city. From here, she explained, we would have more chance of finding a bus or train to Shanghai.
Boarding the train, we were pleased to find some seats still available, albeit with the back rests set at a back breakingly sharp angle. Consider too the thoroughly predictable lack of air conditioning, in these newly humid climes, and a populace scrutinisng us with discomforting intensity and we were all set. Yet, for the time being, at least, we had room to wriggle around to find our optimum positions. This, of course, was quickly snatched away from us at the first stop, when the fact we were travelling on the last day of a lengthy public holiday suddenly became clear, as the carriage became festooned with life, soon rendering my clothes equally full with sweat.
With an old lady armed with a curious box of goose products and a lad tooled up with a smartphone and a shooting game which he was not afraid to use, at full volume, in such close proximity, quickly eating into our personal space, we became separated from our light and guide and were forced to spend the next couple of hours, adjusting and readjusting in an attempt to find cool air and comfort, failing at both. As we pulled into Xuzhou, I had become tired, cranky and in desperate need of both a stretch and good news.
Neither proved forthcoming as we were promptly frogmarched off the train and through some swarming crowds, over a square and into a crowed ticket office. As we queued, it quickly became obvious that Shanghai would have to be erased from the itinerary for the day. Still, the little Korean lady with the massive heart, was there to aid us, booking us onto a sleeper train departing the next morning, before sensing our discomfort and sending us off to a hotel as she continued her own journey.
A couple of negotiations later, which required the employment of some inventive miming skills, garnered in the kindergartens of Japan and Korea to convey a point, and a calculator, semi-confident some of our 300RYN outlay would be returned as a deposit…. and we were stretching out on a comfy bed, a stone’s throw from the station.
Dragging ourselves out of it briefly, in pursuit of some tasty street food, which we found among the strangely uniform neon red lit buildings, I soon found myself chowing down on an impressively sized, if non-descript hunk of meat, on a platter piled up with enough vegetables and rice to feed a rugby team. Our world weary mentality told us not to bother haggling, though we’d been advised to do so, but fleeced in relation to the locals or not, we left both satisfied in the stomach and comfortable with the fee. Never trust a bald hairdresser, always trust a porky chef…
And that was that. A quick stroll around, helped raise our spirits, not least due to the heat and humidity, which has proved particularly welcome this year following the lengthy, bone chilling Korean winter. And then we were done. It was off to our beds and into our dreams.
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