Sidecar Adventures

Today I did the wall.

Ever since I got to China, I have been meticulously studying Great Wall Tours. I wanted to make sure that I found one that (a) was not too touristy (b) not too expensive (c) not too long (d) not too short (e) mostly in English. In my research I read both rave reviews and absolute horror stories about Great Wall Trips. From scams that just took you to a observation deck overlooking the wall, to crowded sections you just shuffled across in cattle lines…I wanted my experience at one of the seven wonders of the world to be…well…wonderful.

So before leaving Shanghai, I emailed a couple different tour guides which had good reviews online. Unfortunately, only one emailed me back…and it happened to be the most expensive company I contacted. Fortunately, it was the coolest tour I’ve ever taken and exceeded all of my expectations.

The tour was set up so that each participant got picked up in the sidecar of a motorcycle. All of us met our guide at the city limit, and then road in formation out to a section of the wall. There we’d have lunch and hike the wall…I figured that even if it was a bust, riding in a side car would make a good story.

My driver showed up to pick me up at 9:30. He was wearing a black Harley Davidson jacket with orange sleeves. His bike—which was his personal bike—was jet black with a black sidecar. As I climbed in, he handed me a red helmet. I looked for a seatbelt, but realized, there wasn’t one. And that was when we started to go.

As we rumbled through the narrow streets of the Hutong, ever bump in the road felt like the rush of a roller coaster. I instantly had this giddy smile on my face, which only grew as we turned out on the main road.

My guide (whose English name I later learned is Eric) told me “We go to highway to meet others.”

Racing along the roads felt amazing. Even though the smoggy air wasn’t fresh, the breeze in my face was fantastic. It was the first day in a long time that my lungs didn’t hurt to breathe.

When we got to the toll gate at the edge of the city, we pulled off to the side to wait for the rest of the group.

“How old are you?” Eric asked me.

“I’m 20,” I said. “Actually, I’m 21. I just had a birthday.”

“I am 23,” he said. “How long you are in China.”

“Since May,” I said. “I was working in Shanghai.”

“My girlfriend lives in Shanghai,” he said.

“Really? What does she do?”

He smiled and mimed putting on make-up. “For some movie stars.”

After about 10 minutes, two other bikes pulled up. A white girl was riding on the bike of one of the bikes. She hopped up and came up to me.

“You must be Zach,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“I am Johanna,” she said. “I have a quick waiver for you, and a receipt showing the balance you owe at the end.”

I signed the waiver and handed it back to her.

“Hi Zach, I’m Richard,” the older gentleman sitting in one of the sidecars said with a waive.

“Nice to meet you,” I waived back.

“Where are you from?” he asked. I told him. He and his wife (Loyanda) were from Miami (although Loyanda was born in Slovakia) and Johanna was from Indiana.

Our forth group member was from France, but his driver had gotten lost so we decided to meet him at a later point. Richard pointed out all of the cars pulling off to the side of the road by the toll gate.

“It’s a place to meet,” Johanna explained. “People from outside of the city can meet their relatives inside the city without paying the tolls.”

We climbed back into our sidecars and headed out. Within about 20 minutes, we were out on country roads driving through trees and grassy fields. Some were paved while others were dirt. All of them were so much fun as we bobbed and weaved around other cars and dodged potholes. In China—specifically Beijing—when metal prices climb, manhole covers disappear. We saw this phenomenon on a number of occasions today.

As we turned off of one dirt road, we came into a clearing that revealed a large golf course surrounded by villas. Winding around a corner, we saw a huge European looking mansion, complete with fountains, pillars, and naked statues.

As our guides turned off the bikes and we climbed out, Johanna hoped up. “Welcome to France!”

We laughed.

“There was a Hong Kong businessman about a hundred years ago,” she explained. “He lived in Beijing, and went on a trip to Paris and visited Versailles. When he came back, he decided he wanted his own French chateau. So he built this.Now it'ss used for events. We stop here because it is a very unknown tourist stop…and they have Western toilets.”

"What about all these Villas," Rich said pointing at all of the surrounding houses across from the golf course. "Do random people own these?"

"Well you can't own property in China," Johanna said, which I found interesting. "So yes people live in them, but they pay to live there." 

We toured around the inside of the Chateau a bit, looking at the ballroom and several of the views from the balconies. Again, couples were taking wedding photos in the courtyards.

“I cannot believe they would do this,” Loyanda said. “Why not build something more Chinese-y?”

“The Chinese seem to have a thing for replicating Europe,” I explained. I told them about going to Hallstatt in Europe and then seeing it replicated—down to the manufactures of the boats on the lake—here in China.

While Richard and Loyanda used the restroom, I chatted with Johana briefly. She had gone to school, studied in China for a semester, and didn’t know what to do when she graduated. She worked for a year, before deciding to go travel China for a year. One year turned into three.

“I am kind of ready to go back,” she said. “China is fun, but it’s hard.”

“I go back and forth on it all the time,” I said. “There are days I’m thinking I could live here and others where I think ‘I just want to eat boneless meat and breathe fresh air.’”

“Yes!” she said. “I miss running outside, but you really cannot do it here.”

We met up with our drivers back outside and continued towards the wall. Eric was definitely the most cautious driver as the other two were popping wheelies and swerving like crazy. The views as we got further and further from Beijing and up into the mountains. The peaks were pointy and jagged. It wasn’t any less smoggy here, but I could pretend it was fog so that made it easier.

We briefly stopped at a small family owned store to buy some water. The other two drivers bought beer but Eric didn’t (which I have to admit I was thankful for…regardless of how cultural it is.)

This actually brings up an interesting point. In China, it is certainly expected that every drinks, but public drunkenness really is not tolerated. Being drunk in clubs is okay, but this is a far more rare occasion than in Europe. My co-workers and other friends have explained to me that getting drunk is more of a celebration than a social activity.

Continuing on, we climbed up much steeper and steeper hills. Our next stop was the ruins of Fa Hua Temple. This was where we met up with Siderick, our final group member. Johanna led us all back to the ruins…which were amazing. The temple was originally used for worship and as a monastery. A map showed that it had once been a large complex hidden back in the jungle and off the road. The complex was destroyed by the Japanese in the war, and later, much of the rubble was destroyed by the communists during the cultural revolution. All that is left are five of the pagodas, and two of the original incense burners.

We walked up the hill to overlook the entire view. Around the ruins, several ladies were mediating. They sat cross legged on beautiful blankets, while murmuring prayers with their eyes closed. There was a very tangible spirit in the air.

A fun phenomenon in traveling China is seeing the mistranslated signs. For example, here at the ruins there was one sign that said “No Portraying.”

“What do you think it means?” Johana asked. We had absolutely no guesses.

“It means ‘No Graffiti.’”

Hiking back to the side cars, Johanna told us that we’d be at the wall in about 30 minutes. Climbing in, we took off down switchbacks. This was so much fun. Eric put the bike in neutral and let us coast down the steep twisting hills. We twisted back and forth around corner after corner. My stomach would jump all over the place as we plunged down the hill, and it took a lot of concentration not to start cackling with laughter.