Portrait of an LBX

By Evan

Dear readers, we’re back and broadcasting after a couple days on the road. First I’ll get you up to speed on where we’ve been. Our plan was to wake up bright and early in Linhai to rock and roll half to 2/3 of the 200 km to Wenzhou. Best laid plans again, it took us forever to wake up, clean the bikes (they were creaking like haunted houses, took 2 hours again), eat, and get on the road. Once out the door, we were sidetracked by the old town of Linhai, which we stupidly hadn’t been to before by fault of not asking. Once we had taken our fill of pictures, the skies opened up on us. Did I say 100-133 km? I meant 50 through the rain before stopping in Xianju (仙居) next to the old town. At least Xianju had a little character to it it – not a terrible place to stop for the night. The following morning it was up at 5am for the remaining 150, and wouldn’t you know it – more rain! Thankfully it stopped around 10, or Alexis might have been visa’ing on his own. It did, however, kick enough loose dirt into the bikes so as to completely undo the cleanings they had just received. Despite the wet start, the ride, though long and laborious, afforded some spectacular views. [see all pics on theFlickr site]. A good long 150 km saw us finally across the bridge spanning the Ou River (瓯江) after dark and into the metropolis of Wenzhou, home of the “Jews of China” near 6:30. We threw a much needed, big honkin’ sushi dinner in our bellies, and it was lights out but quick around 10.

Spectacular sights on the road into Wenzhou

Bamboo covered slope before a green pole north of Wenzhou

So that brings me back to the point of this particular post and the reason we came to Wenzhou in the first place: Alexis’s visa. In September when he came into Beijing, we knew that he was on a three month visa. We agreed to cross that bridge when the time came, which happened to be right now, three days before expiration. Last week he had called a knowledgeable Chinese friend in Beijing, who confirmed our suspicion that tourist visas can be extended twice in-country at 30 days a pop, provided he could produce proof of reasonable funds in the bank and a housing registration, which we could in theory obtain from a hotel. Our hotel (again full of hookers on the ground floor, something we didn’t find out until later at night), which hadn’t hesitated to take our money for a room, balked when we asked for registration papers. “Oh, usually it’s only 3+ star hotels who take foreigners and can give out such documents,” the receptionist told us. After lots of relentless pushing and back-and-forth between various levels of management, they finally gave us a chopped piece of paper with our names and passport numbers. Not pretty, but good enough… for government work. For reference, our planning is dependent on his extending twice for a month each time until the beginning of February, at which time he’ll return to France for the farewell concert of Johnny Hallyday in Paris (we question his priorities too) and come back on another three monther. Andy and I are thankfully solid visa-wise for a good while longer.

This morning, armed with the “registration,” his bank book, and some visa photos taken at a Kodak, Alexis took off in the direction of the Immigration Bureau (出入境管理局), inside of the Wenzhou City Police Station. At the front of the line, he was informed that the esteemed bureau only gives out fifteen day tourist visa extensions, no exceptions. “But I’m on a bicycle tour of China and really need longer,” he pleaded. “Well, in that case,” brother policeman allowed, “I’ll do my best to take care of you. Of course you’ll need to have at least USD $100 in the bank for each day that we extend your visa (the logic being that foreigners should spend that amount daily).” Alexis showed him his bank balance, covering the expected amount, at which Bro-Po was satisfied. “And your housing registration…” he continued down the list. Alexis turned out our jury-rigged piece of paper, at which Bro-Po guffawed, “You can’t stay in that kind of hotel! You are required to stay in one of the nicer hotels for foreigners.” Alexis honestly answered that they’re too expensive for our budget to stay in nice hotels, which surprisingly placated our functionary friend — especially since we are required to have $100/day to stay here, ostensibly so that the locality profits maximally from our sojourn. “You’ll need to go to the local police station (派出所) to officially register and come back to finish here.” Alexis then taxied to a random station, picked up an official registration — simply a matter of copying his passport and filling in some blanks — and returned to the bureau to find Bro-Po. “Everything is in order now,” he said, “You can pick up the visa next Thursday.” But next Thursday is a week away, and we need to spend this time on the bike tour! “Oh that’s the case (what could he have thought we meant by bike tour?). Then you can come pick it up tomorrow afternoon. By the way, it will be best if you extend your visa again next time here in Wenzhou (again, what about “bike tour of China” says that we’ll be in the same place a month from now?).” Alexis gave him the supercilious nod and obsequious praise we’re instinctually used to giving to addle-minded officialdom that fate has decided should have great power over our lives here and took his leave. As stupid as the endless regulations are, it’s no end of laughs to us how they’re as tenuous as sandcastles before crashing waves of friendship and back room deals. Everything here relies exactly on who you know, even in our lives. If you remember from way back on the second day of our ride, our staying in a Hebei hotel resulted in the owners’ losing their license. A month and a half later in Anhui, when we were guests of the County Party Council Chairman (aka top gorilla), we were not even asked for our travel documents in the city’s most prestigious hotel, where we were staying for free. A land of equality and harmony, this is!

Anyway, tomorrow, inshallah, we’ll pick up the passport heavier by one sticker, lighten Alexis’s wallet 160 yuan, and bootscoot out of Dodge toward our next destination: the elusive She Minority of the Zhejiang mountains. Wish us luck.