After six months of taking my daughter to the bus stop in the morning to go to kindergarten, the days when she cried and didn’t want to go are long over. Those first couple of week mommy cried too, sad to see her baby upset and conflicted as to whether sending a three-and-a-half year old alone on a bus to kindergarten was such a good idea. Now, she’s so excited to take the bus, she barely even remembers to wave good-bye to me.

When we decided to enroll our daughter in the French International School of Beijing for kindergarten, it was not without a lot of consideration of many diverse factors. Being Canadian, the French language was certainly a plus, but besides many other considerations (learning resources, air quality control, distance, price, educational model etc.), their transport system that included a bus stop right outside our apartment complex was a definite bonus.

Every morning, a giant bus arrives with “a pretty flower” on it, as per my daughter’s description, and each bus has two employees (besides the driver) who are responsible for the kids. They are very conscientious. For little ones like mine, they get out at every stop and physically help them board, even separately carrying their backpacks for them if necessary.

When the bus arrives in the afternoon to drop her off, those same employees are there. You can tell that one of my daughter’s favourite moments is being lifted out and down to her mommy. She positively bursts with smiles at the top of those bus stairs and, though I know intellectually the excitement’s about the “ride” from the bus to the ground, I let my heart feel that it’s all about seeing mommy after a day away at kindergarten.

And that makes up for no wave goodbye in the mornings—every time.

Photos: Courtesy of Ember Swift

My parents’ visit this time around presented a new challenge to test my problem-solving skills: they were bringing my bicycle over from Holland, but we were concerned that the box wouldn’t be able to fit into a regular taxi. Thankfully a good friend suggested I download the ’58 Daojia Suyun’ app, pictured below, which would hopefully solve all the logistical nightmares that apparently transpire when taking on a task past getting dressed in China.

The app allows you to book a van of any choice (choices listed below). Doing this definitely requires knowledge of Chinese characters, so make sure you’ve got someone around who can help you if you’re not sure what you’re doing.

After choosing the type of van (I went with the 小型平板 xiaoxing pingban option at RMB 43) you have to enter the set-off point and the destination, along with your name and phone number (if you’re going to drive with your freight) or the receiver’s name and phone number. Don’t forget to edit the time on the top (circled) as you can book for now, or up to five days in advance.

After going through the steps, and selecting whether to pay the driver in cash at the beginning of the trip or the end, you will receive a confirmation over text when you do have a confirmed booking.

The day before my parents were set to arrive, I called to confirm with the driver. To my surprise he kept saying that the booking had been cancelled (which I certainly hadn’t done, and he hadn’t either), and I had to get a friend to help convey to him that we wanted to uncancel the booking and have him pick us up at the airport with the bicycle-in-a-box anyway.

Many confirmations later, he said he would come and get us but was very confused about where to wait. Approximately four phone calls later we found him in the basement of the parking lot, sporting what definitely was not the type of van we booked. Thankfully the box fit regardless.

As we did not have a booking through the app anymore, we had to haggle a little bit (the driver conveniently waited until we had loaded up the van to express his unwillingness to actually take us anywhere) and ended up paying RMB 200 for him to take us and the box to Yonghegong area instead of the RMB 142 estimated by the app. Not bad. Next time we will have to work within the app, and see how that goes.

Basically, to round up my experience, don’t use this app if:

• Your meeting point might not be clear. Airports specifically come to mind. 
• You don’t speak Chinese.
• You have huge things to move during the day but live within the Second Ring Road (due to traffic restrictions).

If you do speak Chinese, and are moving house, 58 Daojia Suyun is a great option as the vans are pretty cheap and you can haggle with the driver to have him help you move things too.

This post first appeared on thebeijinger.com on October 20, 2015.

Photos: Margaux Shreurs

We had a fun afternoon despite the blazing heat at the BCIS Spring in the City Fair – as we were leaving we ran into this dapper dad and his nifty Bakfiets Dutch Cargo Bike.

I’d never seen one of these before but was instantly struck with “Gear Envy.”

This family’s bike was purchased in Holland for about 700 Euro – and unfortunately does not appear to be available in Beijing (the closest you’ll find is this) – it’s probably only a matter of time before a shanzhai version comes out.

Greetings, loved ones. Recently, I had to take a journey (not to California), but into the depths of the traffic disaster that is Beijing’s city center. I was so inspired after reading Kathleen Ma’s article in a previous issue of UNIT-E that I decided to take the 北京地铁 (Beijing subway) to my meeting. Not only did I avoid jams in between ring roads and reduced my carbon footprint, but I came back with interesting stories and became an even more seasoned 北京人 (Beijinger).

17.30 – In the midst of the pouring rain, enlist the help of a black cab driver, “我的好朋友” (“my good friend”), to get to the Beijing Exhibition Center subway station.

17.38 – Get ripped off by 我的好朋友, but decided not to quibble. It’s raining, and that RMB 5 counts as my good deed of the day.

17.42 – Buy a stored value card for RMB 20 and add credit to it. The price of a single trip stays the same at RMB 2 for any distance. The only real benefit of this card is its convenience. It makes my wallet look a lot fuller and I like a beijingren.

17.45 – Swipe my 地铁卡 (subway pass) – Wah! 我真的是北京人! (“I really am a Beijinger!”) – and rush through the turnstiles to catch the train.

17.46 – Reach the top of the elevator just in time to see the tail end of my train disappear into the distance. FML.

17.47 – Consult the LCDs above the doors: 12 minutes until the next train arrives. It’s the price Shunyi-ers like myself pay for living in the suburbs.

17.49 – Stalk around the waiting platform and mumble rude things about how warning needs to be given before a train leaves – I could have caught that train!

17.53 – Get bitten by mosquitoes. On the bright side, I have tangible reminders of this experience.

17.55 – Start (attempt at) catching mosquitoes by snatching them as they fly by. It doesn’t quite work, but I persevere.

17.57 – Attract weird looks from strangers, since I am grabbing at seemingly thin air and cursing in strange tongues. Move away from spectators and wait for train.

17.59 – Train arrives. Avoid above-mentioned spectators on the train to prevent the next six stops from being incredibly awkward.

18.04 – Realize that my old nemesis, the mosquito, has followed me. We duel.

18.15 – Admit defeat. The mosquito is quite the ninja.

18.20 – Arrive at Wangjing station. Nearly get off (OK, do get off), and jump back on when I realize there are two Wangjing stations and this isn’t the interchange point.

18.23 – Arrive at Wangjing  West interchange station. Try not to look like a “noob” and follow the crowd.

18.29 – SO MANY STAIRS.

18.34 – EVEN MORE STAIRS.

18.38 – NO MORE STAIRS. (There are actually only three flights of stairs. Stairs are recommended not only for wellness reasons, but also to avoid deadlock on the crowded escalators.)

18.40 – Dongzhimen or Xizhimen? Consult subway map. Dongzhimen. Who knew that one word could change the whole direction of travel?

18.45 – Attempt to find the Dongzhimen line. Get completely lost in the process, as the station has limited signboards and elusive stairways.

18.53 – Start to wonder if it would have been easier to just leave the station and walk to Solana. In the rain.

18.56 – Text everyone and inform them I’m going to be late. Cause of tardiness? Passenger traffic. I wouldn’t be able to face them if they knew the truth.

18.59 – Finally get onboard my final train. It’s all smooth sailing from here on out. I emerge from the station with the sense of pride that only comes from just having completed a rite of passage to renew my status as a Beijingren.

This article originally appeared in the April 2012 issue of UNIT-E. It was written by Heather Budimilia, a student at The International School of Beijing.

About UNIT-E
UNIT-E was founded in the spring of 2010 with the aim of establishing a non-profit, student-run magazine for international students in Beijing. Staffed by current students from a range of international schools, the magazine provides an amalgam of cultural tidbits, fragments of Beijing student life, and a broad spectrum of unique perspectives from a diverse group of young adults.

It’s summer holidays and you want to get out of Beijing to hit up the Big Smoke that is Shanghai. The last thing you want to do is take tired kids on a ye olde train, right? Wrong!

The new CRH speed rail is here! And roaming blogger Matt Wester told us all about it:

Just in time for the CCP’s 90th, I had the pleasure of riding the latest glorious addition to China’s infrastructure, the high speed CRH railway linking Beijing and Shanghai. Specifically, my trip was the Northern route, beginning in Shanghai and ending in Beijing.

My arrival at the CRH station in Shanghai was not unlike preparing for a flight. Security, however, was a breeze. Bags were loaded directly into a massive X-ray machine while we stepped through an arch that must detect something – we were able to walk through, belts still buckled, smelly feet still sheathed, and cell-phones in our pockets.

To read the rest of this blog (and to see if this new fancy pants speed rail has decent toilets), click here.