I think at the stroke of 6:00 every morning Shanghai taxi drivers have a primeval urge to sound their horn, like a rally call to the locals who (especially girls), love to sleep 24/7. Actually, I wonder if any readers can give me an answer as to why Chinese girls like to sleep so much. Let me explain. I once asked my Chinese accountant what she would do for the weekend, and she told me, “Sleep all day and all night.” This would appear to be a popular pastime amongst girls in Shanghai!

Anyway, I digress...

Today I went to Yiwu, which involved yet another train journey. This time it was from the new station in Shanghai, which I have to say was very impressive. I have no pictures, as the officials are sensitive about these things, and I didn’t want to spend the day chained to a slime encrusted basement wall with someone taping electrodes to my reproductive organs!

The station was well organised and the trains DO run on time. This was a Double Decker train and it was heated to blood temperature!

It was an interesting design, as there was no space for any luggage. The Chinese travel with everything as hand baggage on the delightful internal flights, and it would appear no different on trains, except for the constant stream of hawkers and staff selling everything from ancient eggs, to hot water to foul smelling noodles. They have to clamber over bags with their trolleys and then negotiate the stairs down or up to the other levels. On arrival at Yiwu it was unseasonably hot and the station was chaotic. As the only foreigner I was descended upon by the hordes of runners for the taxi drivers, each trying to extol the virtues of their particular masters evil-smelling battered taxi. More than one grabbed my bag, and learned a few new English swear words!

Eventually through my far-from-excellent Mandarin, I managed to purloin the oldest cab, and the only one without air conditioning. The driver was a beautiful man, his one remaining tooth standing proudly out of his mouth, the lines of long dead dynasties etched into his forehead, his hair sticking out a bizarre angle like he had been sleeping all day and had just woken up. He had excellent coordination of his bodily functions as he managed to break wind, hawk deeply and then spit out one of his defunct inner organs into the gutter with his door wide open at about 50 miles per hour (80KMH). You try it… it’s hard!

As his English was less than fluent, I, being helpful, tried to teach him the words for “dentist”, “bath”, and “soap”, but to no avail. His fingernails were black - whether this was centuries old dirt, or indeed the first YIWU cross dresser - I will never know for sure.

Yiwu is an interesting city, surprisingly well kept for such a bustling place, and is China’s wholesale market. It is hard to imagine that only 15 years ago, this was a small town lost in the middle of China’s Zheijang Province noteworthy only for its strange name, which means ‘Loyal Crow.’ Confused? Yeah, well so was I, and everyone I asked for an explanation had conflicting answers!

Commercially, for the foreigner, it is both a dream come true and a nightmare. My company would be happy to guide you through the intricacies of sourcing there – nothing free on this blog!  

But I did learn of an interesting story last year when I first went there:

I remarked to my hostess about how one area of the city seemed brand new with great quality housing, etc, and she informed me that many years previously a young girl had vanished from the City. Nobody had any contact with her, and that some years later she returned with, and here is where the story gets confusing, amounts varying from $5 million US to $25 million US. She didn’t say where she got the money from, but invested it in her home and new infrastructure for the city. A mystery? – Not now, as she is currently in prison for some internet scam!

After a delightful dinner of unrecognizable crawling objects in a sewage sauce, with what tasted like 1000-year-old green tea eaten to the sound of hawking and spitting on the floor, I went to Yiwu airport. It’s basically a large shed with no staff, maybe 6 flights a day, and a collection of small snakes and disgusting creatures crawling around the departure hall.

There were no lights on and no signs, but 20 minutes before the flight madness returned as dozens of Chinese jostled with dozens of overweight foul smelling tourists to see who could get to the front of the queue fastest.

This was the smallest airport I have ever seen, and of course the flight was late – This is China!

I landed in Guangzhou in the early hours and the taxi driver insisted on taking as many people as he could in his VW Jetta until I pointed out the sign which states that it is illegal to mix so many passengers. I arrived at yet another ex-state run Hotel, and tried to sleep, but oddly still missed the noise of my familiar Shanghai taxi drivers.