The Glorious D and G Trains of China
The train is a popular way to travel in China, but you don’t want to jump on just any train. The trains are separated into levels. The best trains are labeled with a D or G, followed by a number. Then it goes T, K, and finally no letter at all. This is a way of classifying the speed of the train as well as the cost. For example, a D train from Shanghai to Changzhou takes about an hour and 15 minutes and costs 50 yuan. A T train takes three hours and costs 35 yuan. For God’s sake, pay the extra 15 yuan!
Not only are the D trains faster and subject to fewer delays, they are a much cleaner, more comfortable ride. The D trains have a strict no-smoking policy that—surprise!—people actually follow, the bathrooms are tolerable, the seats (not the bathroom seats) are slightly softer, there’s more leg room, and on longer journeys, the attendants hand out free bottles of water. The other trains, however, are much more cramped and dirty and cater to a more unpleasant crowd.
I have taken such a liking to the D train, I don’t even like traveling to places the D train doesn’t go. Seriously, the T and K trains are that bad. Of course, the D train isn’t always an option. While there are many D trains running between Shanghai and Nanjing every day, there are none going to places like Harbin or Guilin. Some day, that should change, but for the time being, you just have to tough it out. When possible, however, go for the D train. Don’t try to save money. Don’t try to be adventurous. This is one instance where you’ll be glad you played it safe.
When I was ready to post this article, a new train opened up in China. On July 1, the G train took the throne as the top dog. Honestly, I didn’t care to ride this train, but the ticket office forced me to… maybe as a way to recoup their losses. A G train ticket from Changzhou to Shanghai was 80 yuan, but the ride only saved me 20 minutes. It’s a pretty fast train, though, and actually made me feel queasy near the end. As soon as it hit 350 km/hour, everyone took out their cameras to take a picture of the marquee. It still doesn’t trump the Maglev train’s top speed of 430 km/hour (the Maglev being a short-distance train in Shanghai), but, man, who knew trains were so cool.
Chinese Souvenirs: Money Cats
I know, the money cat (Maneki Neko) actually derives from Japanese origins. But it’s so commonplace in China, as well, you see one in just about every restaurant or shop. While the cat does come as a solid figurine, it’s more popular to get one with a motorized arm that waves forward and backward.
For the longest time, I thought the cat was knocking. When I finally asked someone about it, they beamed, “Give me money!” In many Asian cultures, the “come here” gesture is done with the palm facing outward (the opposite of what we would do). So the cat isn’t knocking or waving; it’s saying, “Come here and spend money.”
I bought this particular cat from the silk market in Beijing. The vendor was a young girl who seemed almost reluctant to sell it, like she didn’t want to part with it. Maybe it was all business tact, but if I asked about the cat, I was received with a lot of, “Uh…” instead of the usual, “Cheaper, cheaper!” When we finally agreed on a price, she gave the cat a hug and a kiss before putting it away in a bag. I bet she cries about that cat every night.
Want to Exchange Money in China?
Don’t! Or at least pack a lunch and be prepared to spend all day at the bank. I went there today to close my account and withdraw all my money in US dollars, but, would you believe it, doing so is a huge hassle. First, as a foreigner, I’m only allowed to exchange $500 per day. Nevermind that it’s my account and my money, I need a Chinese citizen’s signature and ID number to exchange anything larger. So my girlfriend had to fill out all the forms, even though the money was for me.
Since this is a Chinese bank, accomplishing anything requires a ton of paperwork and being shuffled from one counter to the next. At the beginning of the process, we had to fill out a form that basically said “we want to buy $7,000.” When it came time to actually give us the money, though, they realized I didn’t have enough yuan in my account to meet $7,000. Rather than fixing it then and there, they made us start the process over with a new order for the correct amount.
The real kicker, though (yeah, it’s not over yet) is how, once I had my stack of US dollars, they still left 50 yuan in my account. The whole point was to close the account completely! Oh, but if we wanted to do that, then we would have to get a new ticket number and stand in line again. By the time we got out of there, we had spent almost two hours in the bank. I can’t wait to go to the bank in my hometown and get in and out in only five minutes.
On the other hand, a bank in the US will completely rip you off when it comes to trading currencies. The rate they give you usually isn’t the real rate (I have no idea where they get their numbers), and then they’ll tack on extra service fees. You save so much more money by exchanging in China, even if it’s at the airport. The Pudong airport in Shanghai also waives any fees if you exchange at least $1,000. Sign me up, ’cause I’m headed there tomorrow!
Update: After going to the airport and trying to exchange money on my way out of the country, I have a different stance. They are much less generous when converting back into US dollars. The rate is, of course, not as favorable, there is a fee regardless of how much you put down, and there’s a $1,000 limit. Really, the only way to avoid getting dinged upwards of $300 (like I did) is to exchange everything at a local Chinese bank before coming home. I’m serious about packing a lunch, though.
How to Check Your China Mobile Balance
China Mobile sends out a reminder when your account reaches a particularly low balance, but these messages tend to get lost amongst all the other junk mail. If you missed it, don’t worry. There’s still hope! Write a text message that says Hfcx (and nothing else) and send it to the number 10086. A few seconds later, you’ll get a return message.
This new message is, of course, all in Chinese, but if you scroll down, there will be two numbers followed by a yuan symbol (元). The first number tells you how much you spent last month, and the second number is your current balance. Keep in mind, though, that I’ve only tested this with phones bought in Jiangsu province. The rules may be different in other parts of the country. Feel free to share them if they exist.
Freeing the Streets of Chinese Money
I was a little restricted in where I could eat today, because all I had on me were 100 yuan bills. I’m so filthy rich, I don’t carry anything less. A 100 yuan bill doesn’t get you as far as it sounds, though. It’s really only $15. So I find it amusing when my friend never leaves his apartment with more than 100 yuan and always finds himself going over budget at the supermarket checkout.
Locally, 100 yuan is still a lot (it is the highest denomination, after all), and many smaller restaurants and shops will either refuse to take that much money or scowl at you while they search the cash register for leftover counterfeits. There was a taxi driver in Harbin who came unglued when I had nothing but 100s to give him, and he impatiently waited while I went into three different stores, trying to find someone who would break it for me. In order to avoid a similar situation, I just ate at McDonald’s today instead of the usual noodle house.
It’s at times like this when it would have been nice to find five yuan lying on the ground. I’ve actually come across a lot of money on the streets, but, oddly, I seem to be the only one interested in picking it up. I once found a wet 20 yuan bill outside (wet because it was raining, not because… perish the thought). Back at the training school, I held the bill up to the heater to dry. Everyone who asked about what I was doing became uneasy when I told them I found the money outside. “You should just get rid of it,” they said. “It’s bad luck.”
It always boils down to bad luck.
This is a far cry from how things roll in the US, where a penny is just the opposite. When my parents started building their current house, my brother found $100 on the property. Completely jealous, I spent most of my free time for the next few weeks wandering around the neighborhood, hoping to discover my own $100. Ten years later, the only money I ever found was three dollars scattered across a lawn next to a police car. But even with a police officer watching, I still picked up the money. I always pick up the money! Because that’s what I do, whether I’m in America or China.
The Mysterious Fapiao of China
Fapiao is a Chinese word that basically translates as an invoice. But the confusion surrounding it is pretty steep. I first encountered said confusion when I asked my training school to reimburse me for a purchased book. The receipt I gave them apparently wasn’t enough proof. They needed a fapiao, that elusive invoice with the official red stamp on it. I’ve asked numerous people what the purpose behind the fapiao is, and nobody has been able to give me a straight answer. Even after searching the Internet, I’m still not entirely sure.
But I’m closer now than ever before!
Ultimately, it has something to do with taxes, because a receipt apparently isn’t good enough to determine who owes what. Businesses don’t like issuing fapiaos, though, because, well, they might not be a legitimate business to begin with. Also, the fapiao is an official record of a transaction, and the company will have to pay taxes on that. If you want a fapiao, then, you usually have to ask for it. As an incentive for you to do so, some fapiaos have scratch-off boxes where you can win money. I’m guessing businessmen collect fapiaos to use as tax write-offs, but everyone else just wants to see if they can win their ten yuan back.
Papa John’s (you know, that place with the best pizza in China) offers customers a special bonus if they don’t request a fapiao. They have a small, glass case of toys and other knick-knacks by the cashier, and if you agree to relinquish your receipt, you can take home one of the prizes! What a great restaurant. So I feel a little guilty when my Chinese friends ask other great restaurants to give them a fapiao. Since you don’t tip the servers in China, it’s kind of like an indirect way of expressing your dissatisfaction.
Maybe.
Out on the streets, there are sometimes people dully calling out, “Fapiao, fapiao, fapiao, fapiao…” I never understood what they were doing, whether they were collecting unwanted fapiaos or selling fake ones. It must be quite a magical piece of paper, though, because the lady outside the bus card shop gets a big grin on her face and does a little happy dance whenever somebody hands her one. Fortunately, as a foreign teacher who doesn’t have to pay taxes on his meager salary, the fapiao is something I rarely have to deal with.
Yinqixing, Shanghai’s Indoor Skiing Dump
Avid snowboarders (and skiers, though I choose to recognize those wimps in parentheses) probably shouldn’t expect a lot from an indoor skiing area. In the case of Shanghai’s Yinqixing, it’s one short hill divided into three levels of difficulty that can be ridden top-to-bottom in 20 seconds. Watching the Chinese patrons, however, it was clear most of them had never gone skiing before and were just enjoying the thrill of “speeding” across snow and wiping out halfway down. But if they knew any better, they would know they were getting ripped off.
I was fully aware I wouldn’t be getting the full mountain and trees experience and was planning to have fun, anyway, but things started off on a sour note when we arrived and saw that the prices had been raised 40 yuan. Wait a minute! I had checked the website in the morning before heading out, and it said nothing about a National Day surcharge. That extra money was only there to take advantage of us, too, because the park wasn’t even fully-operational during this important week.
The cashier confided in us that the snow wasn’t very good, and the third (advanced) part of the hill was closed. This was what we came to Shanghai to do, though, so we bit the bullet and paid for an hour (138 yuan). The cashier was right; the snow was horribly slushy and shallow. The beginner’s part of the hill wasn’t steep at all, and the lifts to take you up were broken. The park didn’t get them running again until we’d already been there for 30 minutes (and after they started running, they kept shutting down every few minutes), meaning we spent most of the time lugging our skis up the hill. Man, I was so pissed off.
On Yinqixing’s behalf, they did warn us about some of these setbacks, but the broken lift pushed me over the edge. I don’t care if it is a major holiday, you simply cannot charge people extra when the equipment’s not working (and don’t get me started on the missing third tier, either). This is so typical of China. They’ll start construction on a tourist attraction, cover up significant parts of it, and still ask for the same (or even a higher) price. It’s unacceptable, and I let Yinqixing know that.
At first, the cashier didn’t care about our complaints and thought our request for a refund was ridiculous. “I told you about the snow,” she said. “It’s a national holiday. The lifts were working. The website doesn’t lie. Nobody else ever complains.” Then she called the manager and, thinking we couldn’t understand Chinese, vented her frustrations to him. I don’t think she even relayed the complete reason why we wanted our money back, but the manager, after three calls, finally agreed to refund 30 yuan each. Better, but I still wasn’t pleased with the park’s overall performance and vowed never to come skiing here again. I advise you to do the same.
Huanglong, Jiuzhaigou’s Hot Sister
The beauty of Jiuzhaigou doesn’t stop at Jiuzhaigou Valley. There is another national park on the opposite side of the airport called Huanglong. Playing second fiddle to Jiuzhaigou, it’s harder to find nearby accommodations and harder to get to and from. They do have a daily bus that runs from Jiuzhaigou to Huanglong (3.5 hours on a dangerous, winding cliffside road), but it returns too early, leaving you with no time to actually enjoy the park.
We passed on the return ticket and stayed in Huanglong until 4:00. At that point, our only option to get back was a taxi… and all the drivers knew it. Some of them refused to even go to Jiuzhaigou Valley, but those who were up for it wanted at least 400 yuan. It took forever just to talk one guy down to 390. He seemed a little pissed off about this, too (and was probably pissed off that I asked him not to smoke), because he didn’t say a word to us, slammed his foot on the gas the whole way, and made the 3.5-hour drive in under two.
Remember that dangerous, winding cliffside road? I mentioned it in parentheses, so maybe you missed it. That road was made even more dangerous thanks to all the construction going on. And they weren’t just rebuilding a few sections at a time, either. No, that would make too much sense. They tore the whole damn road up! Peewee didn’t seem at all concerned about his or our safety, though, as he honked his horn and screeched around every tight, blind-spotted corner. I’ve never been more afraid for my safety.
But that picture… totally worth it.
Factoring in transportation costs, Huanglong was actually the more expensive of the two parks (plus the huge risk you take in dying on the way there and back). What’s nice about national parks in China is that they often offer discounted tickets to students and seniors over 60. Not every park will accept foreigners under this policy, but Jiuzhaigou and Huanglong did, so if you’re coming, hang onto your old student ID card.
Jiuzhaigou Valley is what draws people to the area, but I actually liked the scenery in Huanglong more. The difference between the two parks is that Huanglong doesn’t have a lot of variety. The short mountain trek is just a series of [amazingly spectacular] blue pools. Jiuzhaigou, on the other hand, is an entire day’s worth of hiking from one lake to the next, past several waterfalls of varying sizes, and through forest pathways overgrown with vegetation. Nevertheless, I’m glad I saw both. They are now some of my favorite places in the country… and world.
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