That was the pot noodle that was!

Tuesday 22 May

I set the alarm for 7.30 am; we don't have to leave the hostel until 10.00 am, but it seems the early bird catches the worm where the showers in this hostel are concerned. Luckily, 1 of the 2 showers is free, and the water is hot.

Today we are catching the noon train from Lanzhou, arriving in Xi'an at about 10.45 pm. I'm not sorry to leave Lanzhou – it was good to see the Yellow River, but it wasn't a special place – really we'd only gone there as it was to have been the starting point for our tour of Tibet, which was unfortunately cancelled. We'd had the opportunity to chill out in Lanzhou, and also to witness Chinese life in the raw – Chinese people turning their hand to many different trades and types of commerce, in order to make a living. The “living” could be witnessed in the vibrancy, colour and noise of the local Chinese community, in the hotchpotch of little shops, cafes, market stalls and small business which lined all the streets of the area local to our hostel.

We're an hour early for the train as we need to find the right platform, and to ensure we have plenty of time to get there with our mountain of luggage. We are directed towards a waiting area which is specifically for our particular train and one other. We won't be allowed on the station platform until the metal gates at one end of the waiting area are opened by a uniformed member of the station staff. Reg is a little anxious as time goes on, thinking we should be boarding soon; but then he asks a Chinese man nearby, and discovers, through looking at the man's ticket, that he is going to Xi'an too. All we need to do is move when the Chinese man moves. The man is very nice, and tries to communicate with us in broken English.

My theory for the reasoning behind keeping passengers for different trains in different waiting rooms – like “holding rooms” in airports – is that this is necessary because of the sheer number of people using the trains. Otherwise perhaps the platforms would just be too crowded. A uniformed station employee approaches the other side of the locked barrier gates a few minutes before they are actually opened; the swarm of passengers, including us, press towards the gates, ready to move off at a moment's notice.

Reg had asked for soft sleepers, even though this is a day train, but the carriage we are in is a surprise to us. The compartments and corridor are open-plan, with no doors. There are 6 bunks in each open-plan compartment, 3 on each side, and it seems Reg and I have only been allocated one bunk between us, a middle one, although we can't be sure about this.

On the window side of the main train corridor are drop down seats at regular intervals, and they are all occupied; this carriage is absolutely teeming with passengers. By each corridor seat is a little shelf. Some people are already sitting on these seats, eating their lunch; large tubs of pot noodles, with boiling water added, are a favourite food, especially on trains. Suddenly a small drama occurs on the train; as Reg pushes our large suitcase along the narrow train corridor, his huge rucksack, which is over one shoulder only, manages to clip a fellow passenger's pot noodle dinner, which is steaming and ready to eat on one of the little corridor shelves. The pot noodle dinner skims through the air and ends up in a heap on the corridor carpet. The passenger's mouth drops open as he surveys his dinner splattered all over the floor.

Reg apologises profusely, and gives the man some money as recompense. I think the man would rather have had his dinner. Unfortunately, our open-plan cabin area is really near to where the accident occurred – and how to clear up the mess of noodles, which boarding passengers are doing their best to step over as they walk down the corridor with their luggage, searching for their bunk-seats as they board the train? The “little red bowl” (see earlier blogs) comes into its own, and Reg heroically clears up the mess as best he can – the train guard, mop in hand, finishes off the job.

The really nice Chinese lady on the bottom bunk in our open cabin doesn't seem to mind me sitting on the end of her bed – though is it her bed or mine? We're not sure. I'm not keen on climbing up to the middle bunk, as it means I have to get down again to go to the loo. I decide I'll sit on the end of the bottom bunk until or unless I'm asked to move.

Reg is enjoying looking at the scenery, sitting on a corridor window seat – he says he might climb up to our middle bunk later for a rest. He has also decided to download some books onto my kindle, so that when I am on his computer, he can use my kindle. I can't complain, as I need his computer to write the blog and check my emails; at least any number of books can be open at the same time on a kindle, it seems, so we can easily switch from one book to another. The problem arises on a long train journey, like this one, where only one of us at a time can read the kindle. I know that I'm a bit covetous of my kindle, and Reg has been good about me using his computer (most of the time). Reg thinks I'm being unfair, and we have a short exchange about our differing viewpoints, which leads to a silent not-talking-to-each-other row, attracting bemused glances from other passengers.

This was bound to happen at some point in the trip, as we've got on really well so far. The situation isn't helped by the fact that when we eventually get off the train in Xi'an, we've been advised not to get a taxi but to take a 603 bus to the hostel. It takes us a good 25 minutes to find the right bus stop, and another 25 minutes when we get off the bus, traipsing around with all our luggage, to find the hostel. When we get inside though, and book in, we are well impressed; the hostel is either new, or newly refurbished, and although we are on the 3^rd floor, our room is modern and clean, with a kingsized bed which turns out to be the most comfortable one we've slept in on the trip. There's also a modern on-suite bathroom.

I'm exhausted after our long train journey, and go straight to bed; Reg finds there's an English-speaking channel showing football on the TV in our room, so watches that for a bit. We still haven't resolved our petty differences; but in the morning we try to see things from each other's point of view, and make up.