Day 17
Sometimes cycling is monotonous patience trying labour. The continuous revolution of the pedals, the mobs of curious onlookers, the honking motorists, the piles of rubbish all make one loath slow travel. But like all of life it’s the dark periods that make the bright periods shine much more brilliantly.
Today was one of those glorious days. Compelled by the subtle swells, passing over smooth concrete winding through countryside dotted by peaceful roadside villages, we floated through the day. What a thrill as we stealthily slid by silent villages going about their morning chores. Mothers brushing their daughter’s hair or wiping the face of their son, as they sat outside their house on little stools. Men working on motorcycles, making bricks, or spreading grain to dry. Us witnessing them in snapshots before they saw us and stirred from their daily activities. Village after village revealed quiet domestic scenes without the normal yells, hello’s, screams, barks, and whistles that punctuate our days as locals vie for our passing attention. Leaving this serene road we began to see large buildings in the distance and we both braced ourselves for the city.
People in big cities are more likely to ogle, point and poke, and photograph to the point of annoyance. With none of the manners of the rural sections, nor good sense, we are often blocked by vehicles stopped in the middle of busy roads to take pictures of us or harassed by large groups. Never did we expect that, as we rolled into the city of Fangchengang (防城港市), there would be no curious passers-by, no picture takers, no cars, no people, just empty buildings. With towering buildings of 40 stories or more, it looked like a ghostly vacant Hong Kong. Here and there were some businesses but many of the buildings were newly finished or in the process of completion. Bright photoshopped posters were everywhere along the roadside, depicting hopeful scenes of a Utopian paradise where families strolled on a man-made beach or relaxed in the courtyard of a still unfinished building. However, the newly paved road was inexplicably torn up. We both felt that odd sensation that something was out of place.
In the early afternoon we arrived in Fangchengangkou, or 防城港口. In every appearance this town was quite well off. People strolled the streets with a relaxed content air. Paved roads with clean sidewalks were lined with shops selling luxury goods and restaurants. Part tourist destination, and part shipping port, it seemed that this town offered a lot of opportunities. However, it did not provide nearly enough to support the looming ghost city we had just passed. After we found a cheap hotel in town, Cher asked the receptionist why they built such a mega city, the receptionist replied that it was in the hope to attract out-of-town investors. Cher then asked “do they have enough jobs to support that many people？” to which she did not have an answer.
This seems to be the way in China that we have seen repeatedly: don’t ask too many questions. Maybe because in the end there is no rational answer. Asking too many questions only leads to frustration which they have no power to act on. Why did they tear up the perfect new road? Why did they build the mega satellite city, knowing there will never be enough population to fill the buildings? With a shrug, one can only answer: “Because this is China.”