Farewell

(Photos of the diary entry can be found at the end of the text).

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After a wonderful and restful night, I meet up with Spring in the lobby. We had agreed yesterday that she would write down a few Chinese sentences for us. For example: Where is there a hotel here? Where can we find a restaurant? Can we take our dog into the room? Have a safe place for our e-bikes. Where can we charge our batteries? We had taken three semesters of Chinese at the adult education center in Germany but had already forgotten a lot of it. The questions translated by Spring will certainly make it easier for us to get to grips with this difficult language.

Among other things, we need the address of our hotel in Latin script, because everything, and I do mean everything, is written or printed in Chinese characters. “What do you need the hotel address for?” Spring wonders. We need a new trailer drawbar from Germany, as well as coats and inner tubes for our bikes.” “Oh, that will take at least six weeks or even longer,” she says with a conviction that somewhat dampens my hopes of a speedy delivery of spare parts. Although Ajaci doesn’t have to go into quarantine now, this hotel will be our base camp for the next three weeks, because if Spring is right, it will take another miracle to get the spare parts we need within a month.

“I have to go to the police station to pick up the Chinese vehicle documents for the group. If you want to come with me, I’ll be happy to answer your questions on the way,” says Spring. “Sure, no problem. I’m looking forward to accompanying you,” I reply. We get into a cab and drive to the police headquarters on wide, well-maintained roads. Although we are only a few hundred meters away from Mongolia and Erenhot was built in the middle of the dry Gobi desert, there is no sign of it. Tree avenues and bushes green the roadside. Everything here is covered in greenery and is obviously watered abundantly. Fascinated, I look out of the window and let my first impressions of China sink in. Modern, generously proportioned buildings, mostly in very good condition, characterize the cityscape. “Wow, that’s a lot of cyclists!” I exclaim delightedly, pointing at the young people in various uniforms who are whizzing through a green traffic light like ants. “These are all schoolchildren who go home after school,” explains Spring. Fantastic to have a tour guide who knows the answers to all my questions, I think to myself and ask myself again who will quench my thirst for knowledge when she is no longer there. A multitude of different two-wheelers whir silently along the road. “They’re all equipped with an electric motor,” I wonder. “Yes,” Spring replies emotionlessly, as this sight is obviously the most normal thing in the world. In comparison, Germany is massively backward, I think.

At 12:00 noon, all members of our tour group have to vacate their rooms. “You are welcome to use our room to store your things and freshen up for the rest of your journey,” we offer, which is like being in a dovecote. At 17:00 the time has come. The five vehicles are parked in front of the hotel. The last pieces of luggage are loaded. We stand together for a farewell photo, shake hands and hug each other. “A thousand thanks again to everyone for your support!” we shout. Then the engines roar. “Have a safe journey!” I shout to Peter, who sounds the horn of his warhorse, the echo bouncing from house wall to house wall. “Have a safe journey and no more flat tires!” he replies. It only takes a few minutes for all the campers to disappear behind a canyon of houses. Tanja and I stand there for a while, looking in the direction where five different, sometimes bizarre-looking vehicles had just been. We realize that some of them still have half the world, perhaps the whole world, ahead of them, that they still have many tasks to master and countless adventures to experience. Now alone and on our own again, we stroll back to our hotel, put on a jacket and go for a hot pot meal…

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