Getting Around Town (or, How to Avoid Being Run Over by a Taxi While Crossing the Street)

Sample Traffic (note the old lady right in the middle in the
big white hat)

Before we left for China we confidently told everyone that we would probably buy or rent bikes in Hohhot, “since everyone rides a bike”. Once here, confidence gave way to horror. I vividly remember trying to cross the street in front of the Education Hotel our first day here. I turned to Dave, after being narrowly missed by taxis, donkey-driven carts, bikes and buses, and very firmly announced, “No way will we ever get bikes!” There are no traffic rules, at least not in the way we understand traffic rules back home. I think I’ve mentioned before in a post that crossing the street, and certainly riding in a taxi, feels like leaping arms open and eyes closed into the proverbial “jaws of death”.

My, how quickly things change. We moved into our apartment on a Sunday, and that Monday Dave went out with Tyler (an avid American biker from Oklahoma who has taught here for almost two years, and is married to a Mongolian woman) to the one and only high-end bike store in Hohhot, and bought himself a very nice mountain bike for 900 yuan (about $120). Samuel jumped all over Dave as soon as he came home: “When can I get a bike? When can I get a bike?” (repeat at least one hundred times over and you’ll get an idea of what it was like here the rest of the day.) I was still really against it all. I mean, if Dave wants to risk his life, so be it, he’s a big boy. But the rest of us…? The next day Dave and Samuel and Tyler went back to the store and came home with a very nice mountain bike for Samuel and a great bike for me, too. He just couldn’t resist the bargain. They are really excellent, light-weight aluminum bikes, which cost a fraction of what they would cost at home. We’ll ship them home on the plane and they’ll still cost a lot less than if we had bought the same there.

Do I sound like I’ve been converted into a fearless Hohhot bike rider? Not quite. My first try out, I nearly bumped noses with a taxi and got lost. Not exactly relaxing. After a number of family rides under Dave’s tutelage, I feel much more comfortable. Oh, and Grace rides on the back of my bike. Kids, babies, and adults alike do the same. We all have helmets and we stand out a mile away because we have by far the nicest bikes (and are the only people wearing helmets), and we’re the only waigouren (foreigners) around riding bikes, besides Tyler. Every big street has at least a painted line that separates bikes from vehicles, and many of the biggest boulevards have tree-lined separated bike lanes. There actually are rules to the road, but you have to watch for a very long time to glean them, and crossing intersections and roads is still a heart-thumping venture. No one goes too fast, and pedestrians are mixed up with everyone (little old ladies are the most fearless and seemingly the most unaware of anything but their own trajectory), so I guess if there was an accident, it would be pretty mild. (I hear my mom and my mother-in-laws groaning out there.) Since there are lots of bikers, we feel that there is basically safety in numbers.

Samuel, Me (and Grace), Quin Quin

Samuel and Quin Quin

Our Street (Grace and Me, Samuel ahead)

There are huge bicycle parking lots outside the shopping malls, parks, and apartment buildings.

These lots are manned by an attendant who puts a tag on your bike and gives you the mate. You lock your bike (to itself, just through the frame and the back tire) and stand it in a row of many other bikes. We’ve left our bikes at two different parks for about 2 hours each time and it ended up costing 3 jiao per bike (10 jiao = 1 yuan; there’s about 7.5 yuan to a dollar), and your bike is still there when you get back from hanging out in the park. At home we either keep our bikes on our balcony (no small feat, getting 3 bikes up four flights of stairs) or in the bike cage on the side of the building, which is locked at night.

Today we went to a park with Samuel’s new friend Quin Quin, who is the ten-year old son of a teacher in the International Exchange College. We rode there and back and I only had one moment (crossing a street, no less, but not at a light, at a crosswalk in the middle of the street which means about as much to drivers as the Chinese characters on the restaurant menus mean to us) where I felt uncomfortable. Quite a learning curve from last week. I think we’ll be able to ride to parks from now on, instead of taking taxis, trading one thrilling ride for another, but at least we’ll have a little more exercise.

By the way, all of these pictures are Dave's, which is why he's not in them. He is by far the better of the two of us in taking pictures.