Where to draw the line? Time zones: 01 (China)

 

Australia has three time zones, so has the United States of America, just to name two large countries off the top of my head.

    Yet, China, which everyone with even just primary school geography would know is a HUGE country, has one time zone.  Yes, one.

    On the 37-day film shoot in 1988, doing a travelogue documentary following an American motorcyclist across China all the way from Shanghai in the east to S.W. Xinjiang (the bit that’s just north of Pakistan), I came across two episodes that are the outcome of this one-time-zone policy.

    The first episode was us arriving at Dunhuang in Xinjiang at 2am instead of 5pm/6pm, after a very long day of motorbike incidents (don’t ask).

    I had originally been engaged to act as interpreter on the film shoot, after the film director found that the national guide who was meant to be guide and interpreter was poor in English and even poorer in her work attitude.  So, I was approached as a last minute stand-in.  Somehow, the role of interpreter then started to include being production assistant (making notes of the timings/locations of the shots, as well as names of the people involved).  Once out of the bigger cities like Shanghai and Nanjing, it also became my job to go out and get a crate of beer for the crew once I’d sorted out the hotel room registration and keys.

    Back to Dunhuang.  It was now 3am — after checking in, and further ado about offloading the motorbike from a lorry whose driver had kindly given it and its owner a lift.

    Crate of beer for the crew next.  I walked out of the hotel compound.  Street in complete darkness, which was the same as when we drove into Dunhuang.  I didn’t even know which way out of the hotel compound to go, never mind in the hope of finding a place that was open to buy a crate of beer.

    Miraculously (to me), a figure loomed out of the darkness, in the form of a young man (mid-20s?).  Never mind what he was doing there, I was just so pleased to see him.  Asked him if there was a shop nearby that might be open.  (At 3am??)

    Another miracle:  he said yes.

    Miracle 3:  he was going there, actually, so he could take me.

    About 50 or 100 yards on, we came to a shop.  He was right, it was open.  And not only open, there were a few men inside who were eating noodles!  At 3am!!

    Well, not so time-crazy as one might think.  As it is all one time zone in China, Dunhuang is officially in the same time slot as Beijing or Shanghai, but geographically, should be a few hours behind.  So, to those young men eating noodles in that shop, it was probably only about 10 or 11pm.  When I was growing in Singapore, we’d regularly go out to the noodle stall for a 宵夜 xiāo yè (midnight snack), sometimes eaten there, more usually taken home if there was a late night film showing on telly.

    They have my sympathy.  With China being so huge, with so many things to look after, perhaps the time zone issue is really not worth all the extra bureaucratic hassle.  The people just have to adapt to it:  work to an official time slot, and carry their respective equivalent local time slot in their heads for their personal life.  Why not?

• Googling has produced the fact that Dunhuang is 4,982 miles / 3,096 km from Shanghai; driving distance from Beijing is 1,368 miles / 2,201 km

(Dunhuang, Xinjiang, China, 1988)

A vodka-fuelled journey (USSR)

* Shock update 240225:  Googling Ralph Kiggell to update his website details to publicise his works, I've only just discovered that he died in 2022 of pancreatic cancer, aged 62!  

I dedicate this blog to his memory.  

RIP, Ralph.  I will always remember our silly-moment times together at SOAS back in academic year 1979/80 when you were in Year 1.  You were on your Year Abroad in Beijing for 1980/81, at the end of which you did the train journey described in this blog.  

https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2022/sep/11/ralph-kiggell-obituary

(First posted 2016)  Ben Williams and Ralph Kiggell, two years below me at SOAS, had just spent their Year Abroad in Beijing and were returning to the UK on the Trans-Siberian Railway to Moscow — a six-day-five-night journey covering 4,735 miles.

On the USSR stretch, they were joined by a Russian soldier who spoke no English.  He did, however, have a rather generous supply of vodka, which he shared with the boys.  The rest of the journey went by in a haze, and they arrived in Moscow a few days later around 7am.

As they were shaking hands in farewell, the boys felt that they should at least express their gratitude by offering the soldier a drink in return, miming the act, quite certain that he would say no, after five days of solid drinking.  He readily accepted.  

A couple of hours later, Ben and Ralph staggered off to the platform to catch their train to Germany.  

As they stood there, waiting for their train to arrive, they saw a train already sitting on the tracks on the other side.  

They then saw some familiar-looking suitcases among the luggage strapped to the roof, and suddenly realised that they were their suitcases!

The shock jolted them out of their inebriation and they legged it up the bridge across to the other platform and caught their train just in time.  

The next train would’ve been something like a few days later.

(USSR, 1981)

Concept of time 2 (China)

Filming done, we were about to head for Pakistan via the Pamirs and the Karakorum Highway when we discovered that the chassis of the mini-bus that had been with us practically all the way during the 37-day film shoot was not high enough for the boulder-strewn roads of the Pamirs and the Karakorum.  

The only suitable vehicle was a 40-seater local bus.  

This is the conversation that ensued:

D(river):  So, what time do you want me to come and pick you up tomorrow?

Me:  Be here [to our hotel] at 5am.

D:  Beijing time or Xinjiang time?

By now, a crowd had gathered round to watch, and pitch in with their opinions, which is a very common occurrence in China.

Me:  What time do you work by?

I thought I was being flexible by going along with his choice of time system.

D:  Beijing time or Xinjiang time?

Me:  Whichever time you work by.

D:  Beijing time or Xinjiang time?

The man obviously just wanted to be given an order, not the power to choose.

Me:  What time do you have on your watch now?

D:  6pm.

Me:  Well, just go by your watch and be here tomorrow at 5am on your watch.

I thought that was the perfect solution, since our watches were synchronised.

D:  Beijing time or Xinjiang time?

In the end, I just gave up and decided for him, “Beijing time,” since that was the official time.

Now, 5am Beijing time would be, geographically speaking, 1am Xinjiang time.  Presumably, the man needed to know so that he would go to bed by the Beijing time system, whereas he’d usually go by Xinjiang time in his daily routine, like those men eating noodles at 2.30am (Beijing time).

(China, 1988)