Rehearsing a liveable future - PART 3 - China to Bulgaria... slow journey AU to EU to save carbon

China to Sofia, Days 15-24(June 2024)

Arriving in China is a highlight of this trip. Although I am a little concerned about some Chinese policies and politics, I am also acutely aware that everything I know about China is from a highly politicised outsiders perspective that paints this nation with suspicion and fear. Smart traveller Australia warns that journeys are to be undertaken with here extreme caution. However, 10% of Sydney’s population identifies as Chinese, and it seems crazy not to be more socially and culturally engaged. The deepest irony is that China is Australia’s biggest trading partner and so much of the material in our lives is produced even when the social, cultural and political differences make China more of a 'frenemy' (friend/enemy). I have a few personal connections. I learnt about revolutions in high school including the Chinese Cultural Revolution and in visual art we studied Chinese landscape painting from the Han, Northern Song Dynasty, Yuan, Ming and Qing dynasties, starting with the spread of Buddhism in China and strongly linked to Daoism. Western Education teaches that the cultural revolution destroyed this cultural heritage but I am confident that reality and replacing one cultural approach with another is never so clear cut.

Fortunately colleagues at insite arts had been touring in China and Jason Cross had provided invaluable advice about how to pay for things with Alipay and WeChat, getting a local VPN so I can still communicate through the strict controls of the Chinese firewall that doesn’t allow access facebook, google or microsoft ,and other services we have stopped noticing who govern our communication online.

The rig morale of getting a visa is in sharp contrast to the swift impersonal electronic visa services that many countries now provide. I had to present all my documents and extensive travel plans to the visa office in Goulburn Street, Sydney. After rigorous scrutiny I was sent away to rectify some items that were inconsistent with the strict regulations and then wait a week for approval. That said, everything was accepted, and my visa had been approved.

Having walked through the majestic halls of border control I find myself on a series of intersecting roads with a few small shops and a bunch of drivers touting for work. I soon understand that I need to get somewhere bigger to get to Nanning and take a taxi to the nearest town Ningming to catch a bus. When Alipay didn’t work the driver spied my Vietnamese money and suggested an amount that was equivalent to what she’d quoted. 

I bought a ticket for the bus to Nanning, due to depart in 20minutes. A lovely Chinese man kept making sure I was being helped through the process all without any shared language. In China everything depends on ID and for foreigners that is a passport, so when we stopped at a tollway and a policeman comes aboard to check people’s identities, I knew to offer mine. Then he takes it away and the bus starts moving, which fills me with apprehension, but he soon reappeasrs, hands my passport back and we move on. 

So far, so relatively easy. This part of the journey lacks detailed plans, with no frame of reference for this mighty and somewhat intimidating nation. My first impression, after the formal and symbolic gateway, from the taxi then bus windows, is of streamlined systems and  tall apartment buildings in this, most populous nation on earth.

Three hours later we arrive in Nanning. I am so desperate for the toilet that I decide to take a taxi to the hotel but Alipay fails me again, I still have no cash, the driver dosn’t accept visa and we find it tricky to communicate. He stops and accompanies me into a hotel lobby, the concierge directs us around the corner to a bank. It is 6pm and the bank is still open. Then the ATM stole my card. At this point I was a little unhinged. Luckily a teller retrieved it with her manager’s help, and I successfully withdrew the funds to pay the driver, after traipsing to a shop to change it into something smaller. What a palaver.

Somehow in this exchange, disoriented by the drama, I hadn’t understood that this was in fact the hotel that I was staying in. Upsetting the taxi driver and the frazzled exchange with the concierge through google translate, sees me wandering off to the local square and trying to find my hotel - duh. Maps online direct me to a street more than 500m away where a policeman offers to help and, after his sidekick takes my picture, walks me back to the hotel I started in, shakes my hand (another picture) and wishes me well.  I hope this is the PR exercise it seems to be and not something more sinister. These police are charming.

The hotel room is small, clean and basic, in a western style. There is a smell of drains and I dump my bag, determined to find the train station where I'll need to be in the morning. In the city square people are dancing, some waltzing slowly, others making up routines to poppy beats, with groups of onlookers enjoying the warm night in Nanning. Competing sound systems remind me of Harajuku St in Japan, where many sub cultures go to practice their different arts. However this lacks self conscious and showy rituals of performance, the pleasure really is in taking part. It is heartening to see social dance for fun engaging hundreds of people. It makes me smile. I am confident that these low carbon skills are critical to reconnecting us to each other and the living world around us. Humans are social creatures and technology has rewired our social habits and stolen our attention, requiring more intense use of resources and energy as we sit alone socialising online. Lets dance!

Nanning to Beijing Day 16

Next morning, I arrive early at the fancy bullet train terminal. It has all the trappings of an airport and relatively new. The bullet train, as the name suggests, travels 300km an hour. Imagine an electric rail system in Australia that could travel at those speeds. Certainly it could make our capital city of Canberra accessible to more people, and could see us crossing the country in a very long day. The journey from Nanning to Beijing is 2303km and takes 13 hours, so its feasible to think that Sydney to Perth (4017km) could be undertaken in 24hrs. 

I meet Annie, a woman on the train to Beijing asks me where I am going. Her English is something of a shock. She lived in Australia for a time selling food and claims her vocabulary is strictly limited to foodstuffs, which seems a very sound foundation for conversation to me. She returned to China because her mother is unwell, and now cares for her. I understand there is a great sense of family obligation in China which I admire although whether this is specifically a women’s role, I don’t ask. Her Chinese name is not Annie, I repeat it and promptly forget. I am ashamed of my lack of ability to hold words I can’t see written, and especially when the sounds are unfamiliar, they evaporate. Apologies to the woman not really called Annie.

It's very humbling to feel so foreign, and alone in an alien culture, without access to so many things I have grown used to and rely on. I can’t seem to make the VPN work so my internet access is extremely limited, very few people speak any English and I realise how many people must feel in the countries where I can communicate easily. China doesn’t court tourism in the same way as other places. And the distinct identities of each prefecture seems to encourage a lot of domestic travel. That’s also true in Australia with domestic travel increased since COVID.

The lack of language however does awaken other senses. I’ve considered this before while travelling and enjoy how it evolves to another level when you also can’t read most of the signage and have to look for other clues. Thank goodness there are internationally recognised symbols for toilets.

Beijing - Day 17

This is a big big city. Arriving at the train station at 10pm is a little intense. There are security in the square directly outside the station, a police presence and also that I am conspicuous. I'd booked a hotel next to the station and found it easily, slept well and woke to see the peaked red roofed building featured in this article. 

I have a day in Beijing. I start walking. I find myself in the shade of a city park and call Mike to share some news and hear his. We speak most days and that is a relief when I am constantly in new settings and trying to figure so much out. I then hear the dulcid tones of Country Roads and discover Denver man - singing John Denver at the top of his voice.

I set my sights on twalking to the summer palace along the waterways of Beijing, some 10km from where I am staying. I pass swimmers in the canals, pleasure boats floating visitors towards this historic site. Its a glorious day.

The summer palace park is gorgeous with many buildings in the style

Beijing to Urumqi - Day 18/19

I get up at 5am and make my way across town to try and see a little more of Beijing before my 10.20am train to Urumqi. The subway is absolutely packed at 6am on a Saturday. It’s a beautiful morning and I wonder what our lives would be like if we honoured daylight hours a little more and didn’t take 24hr lighting and access to power for granted. I head to Tiananmen on the subway, which is also near the national performing arts centre, a giant spaceship-like structure next to a park. I’m encouraged that there are signs in the garden in English to take care of the plants. 🌱 I couldn’t get access to the palace part of the city for all the police and checkpoints. I showed my passport many times, racing up and down streets, trying to follow the map I’d downloaded. Sadly I didn’t find Tiananmen Square which was really the purpose of my mission, to honour tank man and the state sanctioned slaughter of students that was reported back in 1989. It shocked the world.

Now here is a thing, some Chinese people say it never happened and while the news that I remember and google tells a very different story, it raises interesting questions about which propaganda machine to believe. The artist Deborah Kelly made an amazing artwork called tank man to honour that lone figure, seeming to dance in front of the tanks when the Chinese Government declared martial law. With limited time I reluctantly abandon my mission and head back to the hotel, pack quickly and get into the crowded station, buy coffee and settle onto the train It's 31hour trip from Beijing to Urumqi in the far west. There are 6 berths to a cabin with 60 per carriage. It’s the second longest continuous journey of the trip. The longest being in Australia! Many families are travelling, it’s full and I am on the top bunk clambering up and down the metal steps on either side of the doorway. The hardest bit is getting my bag to the upper storey and a kind woman helps heave ho it onto the shelf above the door, at least 2metres in the air. As we leave Beijing there is a sense of community on the train as families make little rituals, settling into their temporary accommodation. There are few single passengers like me, a marked difference from the high-speed train to Beijing. All along the journey this sense of community grows as people chat, prepare soups, eat and sleep together. Each coach has 6 bunks and outside in the passageway there are 2 seats. These ‘jump’ seats are in high demand as people come and go from their somewhat cramped horizontal spaces to the window to watch the world go by. I was happy to be standing when not lying down and spent t more time by the doors as cities appeared on the horizon and sped by, one after another. However, much to my horror this is also the place that men, and it seems to be exclusively men, come and smoke. After 12 hours these spots, also near the toilets, remind me of ‘90’s nightclubs, chokingly claustrophobic and headache inducing. No stimulants to stop me from caring. The terrain evolves from crossing rivers and lush green landscapes to drier, stonier harsher terrain. The Gobi Desert shares little in common with the startlingly red dirt and pretty scrub of the Australian outback, instead varying ghostly shades of ash white sand and grey or creamy beige stone. I wonder whose country this is? What strikes me is how raked and orderly it seems, with powerlines stretching rhythmically in all directions.

The need for power has dominated my journey, with phone and computer constantly requiring a charging point. I carry two power packs and ear buds for music and meetings. All of this requires constant attention as to where the next changing opportunity will be. Newer trains often have power points; buses are less reliable. How have we become so dependent so quickly? Of course, there is considerable environmental impact of power needed for the phone, data storage, other devices, all charged by the fervent need to stay connected.

But there is no WIFI on this journey and the translate apps are insufficient to strike up a decent conversation. It’s an isolating experience. I imagined I would read or write but despite the smoke I find myself drawn again and again to the doors to watch the world go by. This is slow travel at its most profound.

Urumqi - Day 20

After the relief of getting off the train, my overwhelming impression of this city, built on desert sands, is of the witheringly dry heat and persistent high rise. I have two nights here to recover from the bone rattling train journey.

Feeling ever alien, high rise in every direction, big wide dusty roads and a fierce dry heat. Abandoned old buildings suggest this city was once more modest, 10-15 storeys that are now uniformly 25. I wonder about water as there is no river. The patch of blue on the map is hard to find and turns out to be inaccessible, locked behind a fence, swampy, with a strange smell. China contains one fifth of the world’s population and yet 6% of fresh water reserves. Advice is not to drink the tap water, but of course bottled water is a plastic nightmare. Thinking back to the world water forum in Bali, I reckon there would have been a strong Chinese delegation.

Here in the west, across the Gobi desert from Beijing, but still on the same Timezone, aspirational culture is thriving. It’s pervasive. The cars are big and with all the trappings of ‘western’ wealth imperialism, shops of unnecessary stuff fill generic shopping malls. I’m confronted by all too familiar brands and advertising that dominate all our lives. But I didn’t expect these to be so aggressively present in a remote part of China. Starbucks, KFC, MacDonalds are on offer, and intensely wasteful levels of plastic consumption. Almost everything is individually wrapped. And then wrapped again and again! Women are covered in plastic as well, from faux designer outfits to excessive trinkets and nail ornaments. It’s too much!

And then it hits me, of course, mass consumption is a means of control. In the ’free world’ we pretend this is choice and well deserved freedom and the benefits of a free market. All that so called ‘freedom’ and we’re equally trapped. Coiffed, distracted, constantly watching ourselves and performing our lives for our phones as we chase our dreams, the climate crisis grows and destroys. The firewall is more of a problem here and it’s hard to work. I can’t get onto internet wifi because I don’t have a Chinese mobile. I keep being bumped off my VPN and one four-hour session results in 4 emails sent. Nothing near efficient! The combination of Chinese and Arabic characters offer clues to the clash of cultures here. The Uyghur people and forced labour has caused global outcries. I pass a camp of poorly kept demountables and wonder, but I have no way of knowing. And finally at the end of the day we get some rain. This restores my spirits.

Urumqi to Almaty to Tbilisi - Day 21

This is another plane journey. Advice was sketchy about travelling across 'the Stans', and I guess I was nervous with so many unknowns when planning this trip. So this was a day of flying, disappointingly and reluctantly. I wish I’d been braver. I'd not planned how to get to the airport ijn Urumqi. I’d seen a sign for an airport shuttle at the train station when I’d arrived so headed back there and sure enough, I found a shuttle with an SUV 7 seater piled up with other flyers and off we sped. 15 yen each (AU$3) and when my Ali pay didn’t work again (it had been fine since that first fateful time) there were many offers of help from the others, with a few skant words of English. Finally I just paid cash to the driver.

Urumqi airport is huge but only a tiny number of flights run internationally, most are domestic Chinese. The airport is sterile, and i bought my first souvenir- a fridge magnet to add to a collection already adorning our fridge at home. I’m missing home. With that and a packet of biscuits my yen were spent. Almaty airport was more familiar than I expected. Not sure what I expected. It was all the trappings of capitalism as opposed to the Chinese variety. I had a 6 hour layover and did some work in a cafe. Then I queued for the next flight. I am applying so many skills I learnt in my acting days, reading attitude and demeanour in body language, trying to decipher relationships, cares and of course, carried by a lot of smiling and nodding, a few laughs at the situation, the heat, the shared experience. These are universal languages. A pushy Indian gentlemen started reading my half finished blog over my shoulder, telling me how to format the text. Not very helpful! Flying is also dehydrating. I’d forgotten. Happily I left the plane, skipped through arrivals and happily landed in Georgia at 9pm, happy to be back on the road.

Tbilisi - Day 22

I have always wanted to come to Georgia. I am not sure precisely why but what I discovered did not disappoint. Arriving late at the airport there were many taxi drivers and after exchanging money I agreed to a ride using the taxi app but the price grew until it was all the money I had. I told the driver, some 8km from the hotel and he waved it aside, accepting what I'd got on me. That demonstrates an attitude that I admire. Give and take. At 10pm the streets were buzzing with life. The ibis budget hotel was funky, not what I’d expected at all. It was great to rest. 

Tbilisi is a city alive with creativity, with lyrcial sculptures across the old town and through city parks. My mum has been worried about this part of the trip because there’s been conflict with pro democracy demonstrations. I saw no protest, except a lot of EU flags, the desire to join is very clear. A striking cultural detail is the written language. According to wiki - The Georgian scripts are the three writing systems used to write the Georgian language: Asomtavruli, Nuskhuri and Mkhedruli. Georgians are not Slavic. Their language belongs to the Kartvelian family of languages. It is also not Cyrillic, the alphabet used for Russian, and once found in Georgia during Soviet times. I walked through the old town, through lush parks with gorgeous sculptures suggesting folktales, and crossing the river found myself in a very impoverished part of the city. Some young boys taunted me and for the first time I felt a little uneasy. But my stride never wavered and as I passed them I throw my hands in the air, making them laugh. The sun is shining. It is a relief to be out of China and the firewall, back in more familiar surrounds able to access the internet. I find a vegan cafe and have a plant-based meal that is very tasty before retiring early. I have an early start.

I planned this start by local bus to the bus station so carefully. I check and recheck the route, get up super early to leave plenty of time. I follow the google map from the bus stop over a rather scary railway bridge - my poor bag taking a little more beating over rough terrain. A lovely young man Bekka helped and I found my way to the spot that aligned to the map coordinates. After purchasing some supplies including yummy warm pastries, I start to feel uneasy. Flagging a taxi I learn I am quite a way from where I actually catch this bus and time is no longer on my side. Traffic is slow. The driver clearly understands my plight and drops me near the station. I run like hell, luggage unravelling and arrive to a very chilly morning start at the station. Poeple tell me to slow down. The bus was due to leave at 9, it is 9.10am when I arrive and we dont get underway until 9.40am. 

Kissing Tbilisi goodbye, we drive cross country towards the coast with many new roads being made. This sense of ‘progress’ has been constant on this journey and evidence of how out of step we are with the climate crisis. Where is the balance sheet of materials needed to rebuild after each disaster and the materials needed for all this construction. How are we mindfully tackling resource use? Construction is a huge carbon waster accounting for 37% of global emissions, with too little consideration of impact. Again, where is the balance sheet? Along the coast this becomes luxury apartment developments and aspirational culture plays a huge part. Some quick googling shows that Georgia is being sold off to wealthy Europeans as ‘cheap’ investment opportunities. If you live in mainland Europe and buy in Georgia, you’ll be flying regularly. So globalisation keeps on giving us climate crisis! 

The border with Turkiye is easy and relatively quick to pass. Then a long journey through the night towards Istanbul, the bridge between Asia and Europe. We drive along the coast of the Black Sea as the light falls. This part is not so pleasant as once again I didn’t have toilet money. After a rather uncomfortable night. I am in Istanbul, neighbouring Bulgaria, almost there. 

Turkiye and Istanbul - Day 23/ 24

The journey through Türkiye was uneventful and the countryside lush. A couple of regular meetings on zoom passed the time and helped me feel close to the end of this journey. The London event - From Creative Practice to Climate Justice Action is in just over 3 weeks and there is still much to do. With amazing practitioners and speakers coming we need a few more participants - I encourage people online to 'tell your friends'. 

Through listening to First Nations people, I understand that Country is culture and I am so grateful to be able to appreciate the land and sea, paying homage to the places I am moving through. It ends with a ferry across the Bosphorus. I had unwittingly booked a hotel less than 400m from where the bus dropped us. It's so great to be back in this vibrant city where the cry of gulls mingle with calls to prayer. People of all races and creeds swarm and flock together and I walk into the heart of the tourist area, past the blue mosque and all the faux designer gear. Dog tired, I barely manage a meal and fall asleep fully clothed with the hotel lights blazing.

I really love Istanbul and this time I am exploring a different part of the city than I'd been to before. After some hours in the hotel lobby catching up on emails, I walk for several more, following my feet, getting lost, finding new sights and smells. 

As with my last trip, I am overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of fake fashion labels that line the streets of this city. Fashion is a huge climate problem. The luxury labels have often invested in the counterfeit ‘fakes’ factories to increase their profits. We have already manufactured enough clothing for the next 6 generations so it’s time to stop producing so many micro seasons to remain on trend. Fast fashion exploits women’s labour and child labour, synthetic fabrics are plastic made from fossil fuels, production wastes huge quantities of water and so much of it goes to landfill- often unworn. You can read more here https://www.asustainablelife.co.uk/whats-so-wrong-with-fast-fashion/ With women and fashion top of mind I see too many gorgeous young women adorned in plastic clothing, with plastic fixed to their bodies in nail art, cosmetic dentures and cheap injectables. This, with all their attention in creating images for social media, confirms how womens bodies are still frontline in the war against nature, co-opted into destructive extractive cultures. 

It’s world oceans day as I walk by the harbour, sun beating down. There is a lot of rubbish all around, blowing into the sea. We produce approximately 300million tonnes of plastic each year. More than half is single use. Ocean experts estimate that 150 million cubic tonnes are in the oceans, predicted to be 250million tonnes by 2030, with more plastic than fish in the ocean by 2050. Healthy Oceans are vital for a healthy planet. I make a post for instagram about it and try to feel bouyant. 🌍 

I collect my bag and walk to the bus station, heading for Sofia, the first formal destination on this long trip where I will stop and attend the IETM meeting. This overnight bus part of the route I took last trip and I enjoy returning to the busy station ferrying humans across Turkiye and to neighbouring countries. I lug my faithful bag into the hold, climb aboard and settle in. Tomorrow, which quickly becomes today, arrives into Sofia bus station just before dawn. I am elated as I wander through the familiar streets of this wonderful city. Early morning cleaners and left over party people cross my path as I head towards the hotel that I am sharing with a colleague. After 3 and a half weeks on the road I have made it to my first stop in Europe and I get to settle for awhile.

@ietmnetwork #worldoceansday #fastfasion #fossilfuels #climateaction #culturetakesaction #culturematters