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Writer's pictureQuimby Masters

Peter's Experience in Beijing, June 1989

Peter and his sister Deb had been in China for a couple of months when they entered Beijing shortly before the massacre at Tiananmen Square. This is a transcription of the letter Peter sent to his sister Jenny, shortly after arriving safely in London:


Dear Jenny,

 

I've decided not to push my luck with trying to send  long letters describing China as I see it. At the moment is a state of emergency. As I can't speak Chinese I'm not exactly sure what is going on, I don't think most Chinese know what's going on! I have heard rumours though, so I'll write those down as I get to them. It's sort of eerie in Beijing at present. Almost like a futuristic film in which the gangs control the cities while the authorities just sit and watch helplessly. As I write a helicopter belonging to the military is buzzing overhead. There are no gangs looting though, just students on hunger strikes, which in itself isn't unusual. What is though is the fact that teachers, police (rumour), bus drivers, some factory workers and all sightseeing ticket sellers are also on strike. There is no public transport and no Great Wall, Forbidden City or museums. The military has blockaded the outer city of Bejing (reportedly, on Beijing radio, to protect students and their belongings from the public . . . the same public who are going on strike in sympathy!!!) In turn the students/bus and trolley drivers have blockaded the inner city with everything from buses and trolleys to garbage bins and rocks. it is rumoured they did this to protect themselves from the military! Only bikes can go everywhere, cars can go to limited areas in single file very slowly only. This does make cycling less hazardous at least.

 

In the city the students, wearing headbands and carrying flags, march around giving speeches, collecting money and moral support. What they are after exactly, I don't know. I've heard they want the leader of the country out and a change to democracy. Others want Communism to stay, but with a different leader. some students were striking initially about not having any jobs lined up upon graduation, thus they thought they might as well not continue studying.

 

On Saturday afternoon, Marshall (sic) Law was introduced. A band of soldiers recruited from neighbouring provinces to ensure a lack of sympathy toward the students were trucked into the city square, to disperse the protestors. A ban on domestic and international news broadcasts had already been carried out by the government, so the soldiers were free to attack without fear of being seen.

 

As the trucks rolled in, the protestors alerted the populous via homemade gongs, everything from teapots to saucepan lids being used. The general public streamed onto the streets, surrounding the soldiers, pleading with them not to hurt the students. Realising the extent of public support, the soldiers turned around and left Tiananmen Square. it was later rumoured that the government was to recruit Mongolian soldiers to break up the protest, the Mongolians having no sympathy toward Beijingers at all. They were to attack via the underground subway. Thus the protestors and railway workers closed down the subway exits and all buildings with connection to the subway including, unfortunately, the Forbidden Palace. Anyway, as of yet not much is happening. The city is slowly going about its routine, working around no public transport and the blockades, so I'll go back in time to Xian

 

On Wednesday 17th we’d decided to go on a tour to see the major tourist attraction of the Xian region, the Terracotta Soldiers. As we had already bought the  bus tickets a few days earlier, all we had to do was get to the train station to meet the tour bus at 8:30 AM.

We left our hotel at 7:30 and on the bus to the train station met an English family from our hotel who were going on the same tour. While travelling we talked about their holiday so far, an epic ‘round the world in 12 months affair.’ In their first 8 months they’d been in North America, South America, New Zealand, Australia and now China. The next 4 months was to include Tibet/Nepal, India and Kenya before returning to England.

It was their first trip away, and they’d made the mistake of splashing out early, having spent 9/10th of their money already. Worse still, they had been using a credit card (visa), with all of their money on it, as the only source of money. This is alright while the banks cooperate, computers work in your favour, and places with honour the card can be found. But if any of these fail, or worse still, their Visa card is stolen, they’re in deep faeces. Their Visa card was stolen on the same bus line 2 days earlier. The English embassy wouldn’t help out, so they phoned a friend in England and asked for a loan of some money to be transferred through to a bank in Xian. The Visa card was cancelled, and a new one sent to Hong Kong for them to pick up later. Their problem was whether the money would reach them from England in time. They had enough to last a couplea days, beautiful!

At 8:30 we got on a large Chinese bus. Apart form us it contained all Chinese.

We bumped along the rough road out of Xian arriving somewhere at 10. Having stopped, the bus driver made a little speech then sold tickets to all onboard the bus. All except for the 5 foreigners. Joe, the father, had been told not to buy tickets on the bus as they were at inflated prices. The driver was fuming. He followed us off the bus to the ticket office. I’d produced student cards to the ticket seller and she’d told me the price was 1 RMB each. Twice the price of a Chinese ticket, but still better than the usual 3 RMB foreigners price.

Before she could give me my tickets and change, the bus driver had entered her office, snatched my change and was yelling at her. Although she looked sympathetic toward me the price was now 3 Yuan each. I took my money back, argued for a while, then gave up. We decided to spend 30 minutes wandering outside (the tomb I think), along with Joe, Jaquie (his wife) and Seamus, their son.

Soon we were off again, this time . . . in search of . . . Terracotta Soldiers.

At 10:50 we arrived near the tombs. From the bus everyone walked toward a doorway outside which a woman was collecting tickets. The bus driver indicated we had to buy tickets to enter. We decided to pay the 2 yuan thinking it was the entrance to the soldiers. It was in fact a tourist shop with a small display show(ing) the tomb as a scale model. The bus driver followed us, so we decided to show great interest I the model, just to deny the driver of the pleasure of seeing us tricked.

Having left the shop we came to the gates into the Terracotta Soldiers. We’d been warned it was 8 fec to get in, but the price had risen again to 12 fec. This special “foreign guests” price was 40 times as much as Chinese pay. I tried to get in as a student, but the ticket seller, knowing no one could afford not to enter having come this far, refused. Begrudgingly we paid, then entered, heading straight for the building which housed the excavated and part excavated soldiers. Although impressive, the edge had already been taken off by the hassles of entry and the fact that we couldn’t take any photos of our own.

The soldiers themselves were arranged in rows along with terracotta horses and the rotten remains of the once (apparently) spectacular chariots. I couldn’t help feeling a little more should have been visible, as having compared photos of the area taken 10 years ago, with what was uncovered now, little had changed. We then went to the building which housed the chariots, soldiers, and other artefacts found along with the buried army, they wanted another 10 fec (only 20 times the local price). We tried sneaking in the entrance, then the exit, finally Deb decided to buy a ticket and have a look. Somehow she got one at local price, so I tried, but the seller realising her mistake, not only refused but also wanted Deb’s back.

While Deb went inside, I spotted an information booth and went over to stir the guy up. I asked him why “foreign guests” were treated so poorly, being forced to pay exorbitant prices. His reasoning was that our colourful tickets cost more to produce! I finally got him to concede it was a rip off, but as everywhere else did to to some degree, he couldn’t see the problem. Joe and another guy, overhearing our conversation joined in, chorusing the fact that we didn’t want expensive tickets, and that anywhere else such double standards would be racism. We didn’t solve anything, but having had a whinge, I felt better.

Meanwhile Deb was having difficulties. They’d refused to let her in with the ticket she’d bouth. They wouldn’t even give her the money she’d spent on the Chinese ticket back!

It was now just before 12, so we hurried back to where the bus had left us. It had gone. We looked around everywhere, but finally had to face the fact we’d have to make our own way to Xian. The other buses were full and wouldn’t let us on. A taxi was very willing to take us the 40 km back, but we couldn’t afford it.

Finally a minibus agreed to take us for 10 RMB each. It stopped 10 minutes down the road, at the spot where the emperor, for whom the Terracotta Soldiers were to accompany into the next life, was buried. It was only a 30 minute tour stop, as the emperor’s chamber is still unexcavated. It is supposedly protected by many booby traps such as gasses and crossbows. Even though it also contains gold, jewels, and treasures, no one has ever even tried to take a look. What a golden opportunity to solve the national debt and population problem in one go!

At this stop we met some Chinese students who offered to take us with them on a bus they’d chartered. We were to masquerade as English teachers, so the driver wouldn’t ask us to pay extra. Just as we were about to board the bus, the minibus driver who’d driven us there, came after us wanting us to get back on the minibus. Until now he seemed to be taking us out of sufferance. He complained about his lost money until I gave him 5 RMB to shut him up.

The students, through one guy who spoke a little English, asked us where we were from, our ages, occupations (I’m now a student – of what I don’t know – but it’s less complicated), how long we’d been in China, all the usual questions. Half an hour later the bus stopped at the village we’d been in, earlier in the day. As we got off, we were told to go and have lunch, then return o the bus at 8 PM. Eight o’clock! We asked about the time again and again to make sure, 8 PM.

We had lunch, then waited around. Finally, at around 3 PM, we got tired of waiting and caught a local bus back into Xian.

When we arrived back we found the city in chaos. The bus couldn’t take us back to the station because of student protests, so dropped us off just outside the city wall. While walking to the station to catch the bus back to our hotel, we met Joe, Jaqui and Seamus. They too had been left behind at the tombs by the bus. It had left at 11:40 AM with Seamus running along next to the bus, people on board telling the driver to stop. Two locals had also been left behind in the driver’s attempt to get back at us for not buying his tickets. They had left their bags on the bus. Back at the hotel we complained to the guy who’d sold us the tickets. He’d been told by the driver that we’d been nothing but trouble throughout.

The following day we decided to go to Bampor. After lunch we went to the bus depot to catch a bus, but the student protests had been supported by the bus drivers, who were on strike. A minibus plying the same route took us there, for a little more.

Bampor is a prehistoric village which was inhabited at 5000 BC, being one of the earliest settlements yet found. A museum housing remnants of the village such as plates, bowls, needles etc. and also reconstructed huts. There were also a couple of dinosaurs, mummies and skeletons, along with souvenir stalls. As we left we passed Joe and co. entering the museum. They’d taken a taxi, and offered us a ride back if we needed it.

Trying the public transport we took a trolley back to town. It soon got caught up behind a long row of other trolleys and couldn’t move. Everyone eventually got off to take a passing bus. This ended up taking us most of the way into town, having stalled hundreds of times behind the traffic backup the protestors and strikes was causing. The driver got so fed up with his lot at one stage that he got off the stalled bus, had a cigarette, and only continued when the backing up traffic’s horns got the better of him.

After dinner we caught our bus home from the station. The city was in such chaos that the bus took a different route to our hotel. It avoided the city and didn’t start letting people off until well out of the centre.

On May 19th we left Xian for Beijing. The English family took a taxi into the station, we got them to take our packs with them, so as to avoid the now notorious bus line with our backpacks. We arranged to meet them at the left luggage 30 minutes before our train left. We had lunch, bought some food for our trip, then sat around filming the students’ demonstrating. Earlier we’d walked along with a group, more as a method of getting from A  to B than as a show of support. A guy had run along in front of the group taking photos of us. The students asked us the usual questions and we gave them a donation so as to help them get a train ticket (or part of one) to Beijing so they could take part in demonstrations there. We met up with the Poms, got our luggage and found our train with 5 minutes to spare. It had been sitting at the station for a while with its windows locked so the compartments were like a sauna. We had to show our tickets to 3 groups of people before we were allowed on the train. Security was extreme to keep students from filling the train without tickets. As soon as we left, everyone opened the windows. The danger of students climbing through windows had apparently passed.

The English family was in the same group of bunks with us, along with Gudren, a German girl who we’d later share a room with.

At 11:40 AM the next day our train pulled into Beijing. On the train an Irish girl had told us we’d heard that the train station and city limits were surrounded  by soldiers. We came out of the station to find no buses, few taxis charging less than triple the normal price, pedicap rickshaws being the only affordable option.

Gudrun, Den and I eventually got one down from 50 RMB to 12 RMB for the 8 km journey. Although we helped push him up the hills, the guy arrived and argued for 30 RMB. We gave him 20 ($4) which brought a smile to his exhausted face. We left him slumped over the handlebars, walking the final 500 metres to the hotel; we hadn’t the heart to make him continue.

We got a triple as it was less expensive per room than the doubles for some reason.

We found out that night that Marshall (sic) Law had been declared at 10 AM that morning. What this meant we weren’t sure about, but it seemed a little disconcerting.

We spent the rest of the day checking out restaurants, finding a cold yoghurt supply, and getting a good exchange rate of fec to RMB. The rate here was 100:175 but it was passable.

 

We hired bikes, having found that the tour to the Great Wall was cancelled, and since bus drivers were striking in sympathy with the students. We put down a $20 deposit on each bike then took off for the city’s centre.

There were few cars, as the roads were all blocked by buses, stones, garbage bins or whatever else they could find. We could see no police or military just the occasional band of protesting students, usually accompanied by applauding lookers on.

We had Trans-Siberian train tickets which I’d sent away for from Hungary, but no sleeper reservations. At one of the large hotels was a GITS Branch. There for the princely sum of 80 fec ($27) they’d book us on for 3 weeks’ time. We didn’t have this money on us so they said we could pay most in fec and the remainder in people’s money. I hid a 50 fec note, and “found” about 30 fec and 50 RMB to pay them with. I found out later that the price charged depends on the number they first think of as you walk in.

Though a Sunday, the post and telecommunication building was open so we picked up some mail (thank you) and phoned Mum to say we were well. The Qiao Yuan Hotel had a money exchange but we’d been told it offered poor rates, so we looked around for a Bank of China. Not able to find one we had to settle for changing in the ritzy “international hotel” which quoted 361 fec for each $100 US, but gave us 371!? We later found our hotel also gave that rate which had remained at 371.23 for our entire 7 weeks in China. While all other currencies dropped against the US dollar the Chinese yuan seemed to be pegged at that rate.

Our hotel restaurant was renowned for its good, cheap breakfasts. For 80 cent ou got 4 toast and jam, omelet, and white tea. The restaurant unfortunately was even more famous for its lousy service. For 15 to 30 minutes you’d have to sit trying to get the attention of one of the waitresses. Once they came over, they wanted everyone to order together. If you tried to order separately she’d say, “ONE tea?” and look around the table at each person in turn. “ONE orange juice? Three toast?” Once you’d ordered it was generally a good idea to go and get your own cutlery, as if you waited for them to bring them the food would be cold and they’d just toss them on the table. A big problem was getting a spoon to stir your drink. I only ever saw one spoon at a time, and it was a dessert spoon which barely fitted in the cup. The waitresses, upon being asked if they could bring a spoon to the table, were not above saying “No!”

The table clothes too, were always filthy. Toward the end many people just rolled up the cloth and ate on the wooden table below. The sugar bowls were always empty, apart from 2 or 3 of the 20 available. Salt was a similar problem. The situation overall was appalling, but it became a standing joke to compare entry/exit times, the record being 95 minutes, and the food was really good!

The only visa we needed for our Trans-Siberian journey was a Soviet one. This cost $8 upon application, along with 3 photos. They gave you 7 days in which to transit their country, 6 for the journey plus 1 day just in case of unforeseen circumstances with connections and delays. It took 8 days to process at the usual price, otherwise the faster you wanted it, the more you had to pay. Being Australians, along with most nationalities, we don’t have strong diplomatic ties with the Soviets, we had to pay an extra $12 “Consulate fee” when we picked up the visa.

That same day we discovered the Friendship Store, a large building designed for foreigners which sold objects which were unavailable elsewhere in China, at a price. The grocery section was where you’d find most travellers, wandering around like wide-eyed kids, ogling the things they’d only been able to dream about since entering China. Cheese, ham, sour bread, butter, milk, orange juice and Mars bars were all available. The grocery section was only about the size of 2/3 the variety section of Safeways but even I got caught up in it. We bought some things and had a picnic on a grassy strip nearby.

While there a West German embassy official walked past, telling us that the government was about to cut off power, water and fuel at 2 PM that afternoon, a few of the embassies had been warned.

We headed back to our hotel, showered, filled all of our bottles and containers with water. We then waited. A few hours later the electricity and water were still on, and, the buses were back on again. The students had asked strikes to end so as to not inconvenience people any more. The hunger strike was also called off.

The tour to the wall was back on for the next day, so we found out all about it. The hotel had a bus going which could take 40 people at 20 fec ($7) each which left at 7:30 AM. A private bus which had taken its first trip earlier that day held 15 people, cost 20 RM ($4) and left at 7 AM. The plan was to try for the minibus at 7 then get on the other if that failed. The only problem was that at 7 AM the next morning some 30 people with the same plan were downstairs waiting.

At 7:30 the big bus arrived and everyone started piling on, then the mini bus came so we quickly jumped on it, perfect!

The tour took us to the Ming Tombs first, an underground vault which housed an emperor and his two wives, memorable for the sheer size of the tomb more than anything else. Then at 11 AM we arrived at the Great Wall. The group first went to a restaurant for something to eat but when they wouldn’t let us choose our own meal, nor could they tell us what it would consist of, we gradually left, only about 6 or 7 staying. We found another greasy wok, the food was ok, and it was as we’d ordered it.

The wall was great! We walked along for an hour or so, taking photos – both rarely allowed at Chinese places of interest. For some reason they hadn’t got on to the “foreign guests” bandwagon, we’d only been charged about 30 cents to get onto the wall. I even bought a touristy t-shirt with eh wall on it for a dollar.

At 2:30 PM we headed back toward Beijing and it started raining. The minibus stopped at the summer palace for an hour, but all bar 2 got back on the bus to get out of the rain.

We hadn’t discussed price, but we were all under the impression the cost was the same as the day before, 20 RMB. While waiting in the bus we were told the price was now 22 RMB! Deciding there was strength in numbers we all refused. Gradually we agreed on 20 RMB. Just as we thought we were safely back, the van ran out of fuel. After a while the driver’s helper braved the rain, and siphoned some fuel into the tank, just enough to get us to the next depot.

Over the next week or so we took things easy. Having caught Beijing bronchitis it was hard to do much anyway. Joe had a birthday which we’d have liked to take him to see the Chinese acrobats for, but we had to settle for the day after as that performance was sold out. Gudrun and her friend Chen, Gavin and Ian (two Poms we’d met in Yangshuo) also came along. The acrobats ranged in age from 6 to 17. They were very good, anything that wasn’t done properly, they did again.

Everyone kept telling me I looked at 30 with my beard so I shaved it off. My first shave in 8 weeks! It took me about an hour to trim it down to a level that my new shaver could handle. I now look 18 again. It was funny to see the money changers and other travellers introduce themselves. When I was with Deb, some could see who I was but that I looked different somehow. “Have you had a haircut?” “There’s something different about you.”

The protests were always orderly, though often a hassle. We got caught up in the middle of them more than once, and it usually meant ½ hour pushing your bike along with the masses until it was possible to escape. Having Westerners in the demonstration, albeit involuntarily, always brought smiles. We must have been photographed hundreds of times. The news crews from the major television networks around the world were there as well.

Apart from the Great Wall, the only sights of Beijing we saw were the Temple of Heaven, Lama Temple and a Confusion temple. We meant to see the Summer Temple, which would have needed a full day to see, but it didn’t work out. We were also hoping that the Forbidden City (have you seen “The Last Emperor”?) would reopen – it closed the day we arrived – but it didn’t. All this aside though, we made heaps of friends and really enjoyed ourselves. I doubt that I’ll ever forget my 2 ½ weeks in Beijing. We were also planning on going to Shanghai, but it was a full day each way by train. Most people told us it wasn’t worth the hassles, we weren’t sure whether we’d be able to get back into Beijing if anything flared up, so we stayed put.

After 2  weeks in Beijing Deb wanted to go to the beach, so we bought tickets there. We tried twice to catch the train, but the first time we caught one incorrect bus out of the three needed and arrived ten minutes late. The next day the buses were on strike again (Sat 3 June), supporting a pop singer who’d joined the students with a hunger strike of his own, and we lucked out in choosing a bald, 60 year old pedicab driver who pedalled at a pace the Chinese pedestrians could handle. At one stage I stopped him and suggested we swap places but he wouldn’t be in on it. Eventually we could take it no more, we jumped out at a traffic jam, gave him 2/3 of the agreed price and walked off to his abuse. Even walking quickly we soon left him in our wake. We got to the station with 1 minute to spare but then we couldn’t find anyone who knew where to find the platform. Having missed it we gave up! I guess it wasn’t mean to be. If we’d taken that train that day, on the eve of the massacre in Tiananmen Square, I doubt that we’d been able to get back into Beijing in time.

After 2  weeks in Beijing Deb wanted to go to the beach, so we bought tickets there. We tried twice to catch the train, but the first time we caught one incorrect bus out of the three needed and arrived ten minutes late. The next day the buses were on strike again (Sat 3 June), supporting a pop singer who’d joined the students with a hunger strike of his own, and we lucked out in choosing a bald, 60 year old pedicab driver who pedalled at a pace the Chinese pedestrians could handle. At one stage I stopped him and suggested we swap places but he wouldn’t be in on it. Eventually we could take it no more, we jumped out at a traffic jam, gave him 2/3 of the agreed price and walked off to his abuse. Even walking quickly we soon left him in our wake. We got to the station with 1 minute to spare but then we couldn’t find anyone who knew where to find the platform. Having missed it we gave up! I guess it wasn’t mean to be. If we’d taken that train that day, on the eve of the massacre in Tiananmen Square, I doubt that we’d been able to get back into Beijing in time.

What happened in Beijing during the slaughter of the students I don't know. The government stopped all media for 3 days after the June 3rd massacare, so all I know is what I'd heard from rumours.

 

On Saturday night 8 army trucks full of soldiers carrying weapons were stopped near our hotel in the south of the city. Deb and I went for a look, we found 4 trucks being driven away by students, the other 4 were surrounded by locals, their tyres had been let down. The remaining trucks were also covered with students, some yelling abuse, some giving soldiers cigarettes, still others just there for the hell of it. We took a few photos then rode our bikes into Tiananmen Square, 8 km north.

 

The square still had students in it, but the number was very much depleted for previous days. No buses were parked around, as was the case earlier, just a few tents. Someone was speaking over the PA, a few people were wandering around. We left at 9 PM with the feeling that the protest had run its course. Nothing had been achieved, apart from embarrassing the government, and people were tired of the hassles involved in strikes.

 

The next morning Deb and I decided to go to the post office and the Friendship Store to buy a few goodies. We'd got about 1/2 way (4 km) there when we saw soldiers surrounding a building. Pushed up close to them was civilians, hassling and pushing them back toward the building. Nearby was a burned out jeep, and two overturned ambulances. Up ahead we saw smoke. It turned out to be trucks, about 5 of them which were still on fire, the tyres giving off a thick black smoke. I decided to go back to the hotel for my video and a film for Deb's camera. Deb went into town to the post office in the meantime. I raced back and returned as fast as possible. I filmed the trucks on fire, along with a guy smashing the tail lights of the truck. Also the barricades, overturned ambulances and jeep. While filming a couple of people campe up to me, motioning not to let anyone see me filming as my video would be broken, others machine gunning me with their fingers.

 

Soon Deb returned, on the verge of crying. She told me that she'd only made it as far as the railway station, there she was told about the 5000 students who were slaughtered in Tiananmen Square the night before. At 10 AM the soldiers came in to the square and delivered an ultimatum to the students. They were to be out of the square by midnight or else! At 2 AM the tanks came in and those in their path were simply ran over. 

Deb had been told to go back to her hotel as soon as possible. A jeep had then started coming down the road. Everyone ran down into back alleys, escaping what they thought would be another machine gunner. As it passed (without incident), Deb decided to hightail it back to the burning trucks and me.

 

We went back to the relative safety of our hotel, warning other foreigners about the dangers of taking photos and the carnage of the night before. What really upset Deb was that she'd seen these students 12 hours before, knowing now that most of them were dead.

We spent the next few days just hanging around our hotel, not going more than a kilometre or so from safety. Each day a few people would go into town, get shot at, chased by soldiers then return with stories, rumours, and great potential photographs, or so they hoped.

 

On Tuesday a bus load of travelers left our hotel. Some were going to the railway station early, they were to catch the Trans-Siberian the following morning. But as taxis wouldn't run during the dark hours, they had to go very early. Some others wanted to catch trains south to Canton, and a couple wanted to go to the airport, so they all left together. 

 

A little later the embassies of Ireland, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and Brazil all came to our hotel to pick up their nationals. These embassies had organised flights to airlift these travelers out of the country the next day, on privately chartered flights.

 

By this stage the rest of us were becoming a little worried. If these other embassies were taking our friends away, it must be getting more serious, what about us, what was our embassy doing for us? We phoned up the embassy and told them about these other countries, and what they were doing. It seemed to be news to them, as having been told, they got back to us, telling us to make our way to the embassy that afternoon. They'd get us to the airport, onto a flight the next day. (I hope this makes sense - I'm watching a video while writing it.) I went over to the other backpackers hotel, the Qiao Yuan, to tell the 4 Aussies staying there about the plan. Having arrived I phoned the embassy to reconfirm the arrangements. I got some guy who said the story I had about getting airlifted out was a "rumour that hadn't originated at this embassy" and "that if you come to this embassy you'll be locked out in the rain." Despondent, we called off the journey, and I returned back to my hotel. Phil, the Aussie that'd originally got the go ahead, phoned again. Once again he was told to come on down, but by now it was getting past the taxi drivers bedtime. We decided to leave first thing Wednesday morning.

 

I got up early, rode to the Qiao Yuan to get the others ready. A few English travelers also wanted to come along. No taxi drivers would take us there so we were to borrow bikes and ride to my hotel and hopefully a bus being arranged. One Aussie had appendicitis, he could hardly stand, he'd been sick for 2 days, but no doctors were available as they were treating the wounded.

 

Just as we were leaving a driver was found so we grabbed a minibus and filed in. The guy said for us to pay if we wanted, but we didn't have to as they were doing it as a favour to us. We all rode over to my hotel where Deb along with the 2 backpacks went along with the already full bus to the Australian embassy. The four remaining Aussies stayed behind, waiting for the bus to return for us. We had a few yoghurts then thre a frisbee around until about 9:30 AM.

 

The bus came back with an Aussie from the Qiao Yuan Hotel, making sure the minibus picked us up. This time the guy wanted money for taking us, up front. The price went from 50 fec down to 30 RMB, danger money the guy called it. Apparently the other load hadn't all paid up, most Aussies had, but none of the English!

 

We went the long way around the problem spots, only seeing burned out trucks (one row had 32 of them) and a few soldiers for most of the journey. It was only at one point that we saw anything frightening.

 

Driving along, we saw people hiding behind posts, looking toward an overpass up ahead. On the overpass was a convoy of trucks full of soldiers, sporting automatic weapons. They were moving along at a steady pace until we went underneath them. We wanted the drive to stop under while the convoy moved on, but he wouldn't.

 

When we came out the other side the trucks had stopped, and the soldiers were looking our way. Our bus came up to a traffic light which was on the red. We couldn't believe it when the driver actually stopped. We just sat there for a few moments, then as the light flashed through amber we all informed the driver to go! Just as he took off we heard a scattering of gunfire behind us. I don't know whether  we were the target or not, but they were looking in our direction. For some reason the driver's wife was laughing, the driver in teh meanwhile was asking for more money.

 

We were to stop at the English embassy to make sure they were being taken care of, but we decided that they were safe inside, while we were still out in the "real world," we'd go straight to our embassy.

When we arrived the driver was again asking for a tip. My tip to him was to set the price at the start of the journey and to keep to it. They then wanted an Australian flag to display on the front of his van, so as to get them safely back. We tried to do this but the embassy officer in charge was too flustered to do anything but yell and sweat profusely. The minibus would have to make his own way back.

 

Once inside the official wanted to know what we were doing there so late, why weren't we there earlier with the others? We explained about the minibus's capacity to only hold so many people at a time, which seemed to bring him down to earth. He had my passport and the Aussie-who'd-returned-in-the-bus-to-pick-us-up's passport as well. Having got these we were told to go around back, get a drink, and stay out of the way until our transport arrived. Once again the frisbee came out. At around midday we were called out to climb aboard the trucks the embassy had arranged. All backpacks, suitcases and bags of embassy wives and children were loaded aboard, under the watchful lens of ABC and Eyewitness 10 news cameras. After about 3/4 hr of loading and farewells we took off back into the streets. The trip was about 20 km away, luckily it was down a one-way road only leading to the airport, therefore of no importance to soldiers or students. This was very fortunate as we were posed on top of the luggage, if shooting had started we'd have had nowhere to go. We passed a few soldiers but they weren't interested in us at all.

 

We soon arrived at the airport where, after a little initial confusion, we made our way to one pocket of the airport. Here I met Bernie, an Aussie from the Qiao Yuan who'd come over on the same bus as Deb. I'd been looking out for her but couldn't find her. Bernie led me to her.  She didn't know whether I would make it so she was very relieved.

 

We had to line up, fill out a declaration stating to agree to repay the Australian government $250 within a month for the flight. At first this sounded pretty scummy, but at least we had flights out. Americans, Germans and English were still having to line up for Chinese airline tickets, then pay for the tickets, $250 on the spot. 

After queuing until 4 PM we finally got onto the Qantas jet and relaxed. We left at 5 PM, once everyone was onboard we took off. Displayed on the movie screen, as we took off, was outside temperature, altutude, time to destination. As we rose over 1600 metres altitude, I remembered thinking that at least no bullets could hit us now.

 

The flight was great. Fantastic food, terrific service. They even gave us a koala toy as a souvenir.

 

We landed at Hong Kong about 8 PM, a large group of reporters waiting to interview us about our ordeal in Beijing. We had a few photos taken, but none were published, at least not that I saw.

At Hong Kong we checked into a cheap hotel ($16 a double) with a very small room. We phoned home, much to Mum's relief, then I called my insurance company. From Beijing I had called and was told they'd look favourably upon my request. If I stayed they wouldn't cover me. From Hong Kong it was a different story. They called me back after 45 minutes, having consulted their members. They'd just put out a memo concerning the China situation. They wouldn't cover me as it was "war like activity," not "civil commotion." I'll try to see what I can do when I get home.

 

In Hong Kong our first priority was to get a plane ticket out. As the insurance wouldn’t cover it, I’d  have to get the cheapest flight to Europe. There were very cheap tickets to London but these wet up on June 15th, all planes being booked out for weeks due to the sudden influx of travellers from China. I found a guy who’d sell me a ticket for the low season price but as I left, having paid, he followed me to the elevator, telling me his boss wouldn’t let him sell me them at that price. I got the money back, ripped up the credit card receipt and left. Eventually I found a British Airlines flight for $600 AUS, direct to London, three days  later. We got two tickets.

 

The next few days we spent buying clothes, eating McDonald’s, and seeing our friends we’d been through China with.

 

We left Monday night at 9:30 PM from Hong Kong and had a nice meal, watched the “Accidental Tourist,” then we touched down in Dubai. This had really cheap duty free goods – tapes for $2.50, Swatch type watches for $10. The problem was that we were only down at the airport for twenty minutes – not enough time to change money, let alone spend it.

 

I ended up getting 2 hours sleep on the plan between a refreshment and breakfast meals. We took a train from Gatwick to London. There a girl handed a couple of hostel addresses to us. We went to one, which being full, sent us to another which had room. A bed in a 6 bed room was 8 pound 25 ($17) with breakfast. We had a bit of a look around. I tried to get a ticket to see the 2nd test, but couldn’t without going to the Lord’s ground. We washed some clothes, changed money (in a bank!) and had chips.

 

At 7:30 PM (2:30 Hong Kong time) I crashed. I’d had 2 hours of sleep out of 42 hours. I slept very soundly until 5:30 Am, only then waking up because I was sweating under the blankets.

 

I went to the Lord’s cricket ground on the following day, bought a ticket for Monday 26th June, then we went into Leicester Square and bought two tickets at the half price ticket office to see “Dangerous Liaisons.” That we saw at 3 PM in the afternoon. We got good seats, 5 rows from the stage, $18 each.

 

As we were unable to take the Trans-Siberian to Helsinki, all our mail drops are now all out. One advantage though, I’ll get to see a test, and perhaps a day of Wimbledon. Next week I’ll probably go visit some relatives in the country, get back to London for June 26. We’ll probably then visit Olivier in Paris till early July, before heading up to Helsinki until late July. From there maybe we’ll go to the Soviet Union for a week then to Vienna in mid-August.

 

So the best idea would be to send letters to Helsinki until July 20th, then just to the address in Devon until we work out what we’re doing. Don’t send anything to Vienna just in case we don’t get there. If you’ve sent anything to Paris, that’s okay as I’ll get Olivier to send it on to me. Once I find out anything more about our plans I’ll let you know, of course. Sorry if this letter is all over the place, I wrote it over the period of a few weeks. I decided I had to finish it today, that’s why the last week is hurried. I hope you got my last 2 long letters, maybe not, as China was a bit careful over the past few weeks.

 

Write soon, I hope everyone’s well, I’m really well, even looking forward to working again!

 

Bye y’all,

Love,

Peter

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