It took me a while in the morning to even start packing and get to the border where I wanted to be first thing in the morning. I was somehow nervous and was not really looking forward to this experience. Seems like the Vietnamese one still has some impact on me… :-)

I think that I crossed the 80 meters distant stop line at about 10AM. I was resolutely turned back by the gatekeeper officer to stop before "THE line". So I did and waited until a passing man explained that I have to leave the bike there and walk to the immigration office to have my passport processed. So I did and a few minutes later I was not sure whether I was talking to Lao or Chinese officers, as these ones were all too serious and smile-less, which would point to the second possibility. They also had uniforms that were looking more like Chinese. I couldn’t say for sure as the officers at my entry border were wearing no uniforms whatsoever so I actually didn’t know how they looked like. Well, these guys stamped my Laos visa as “USED” so they must have been Lao officers, right? :-) Still unsure I left the post slowly as I was originally asked to push my bike through, which I explained I couldn’t do, as it was too heavy and it was a bit uphill.

A kilometer or so further a typical Chinese gate appeared after which I passed a couple of comparably large buildings. No-one stopped me. When I started to think that I was through since I was about to enter a city I noticed a military post between the two two-lane streets. A stop sign was there too so I stopped. Couple of minutes later I was getting my passport processed by the immigration guys at the office across the wide street. Everything went smoothly and I was walking towards my bike. At that point I realized that they might heave not realized that I actually was on a bike even though they could see it through the glass door of the immigration office and I was wearing my riding gear. “Please don’t stop me now. Please don’t stop me now…” was now humming in my head. As I put on the helmet I hear someone shouting at me. The young guy who processed my passport was running from the office door, waving at me. So I took the helmet off and walked towards him. “Shit!!"... As I approached him I asked what did he need with a smile. “Oh, you have a motorbike!?”, he asks. “Yes I do :).” I reply innocently like I didn’t know what was going on.
The officer: “Well, do you have certificate for the motorbike?”
Me: “Yes I do.”
The officer: “Can I see it?”
Me: “Of course.”

After inspecting my Carnet and letting me explain what it actually was he sent me to the customs office two doors away with these words: “If you can’t go through the formalities at the customs office you cannot enter China, OK?”. “Yes, sure; I was assured that all will be fine by the embassy when I talked to them before asking for the visa.” I’m saying with a smile again, in fact trying to reassure myself that all will be OK.

There was an officer about my age at the customs office and a young girl. He could not speak English much so I was the girl’s job. I explained what I needed as well as explaining the Carnet again and what it was for. I do it all with a leisurely smile and an expression in my face and voice like everything was perfectly normal and there should be no problem whatsoever. As I was pointing at things in the Carnet and my passport I noticed, however, that my hands were shaking.  I had to concentrate a lot to stop this being too visible. It did seem to work quite well as the girl was genuinely interested in the document and in what she had to do with it. That was a good sign. I was fearing of unexpected turns in this development though as by my experience they can come at any time. Before that they also asked me if I had anything else to declare, so I told them a quick list of what I thought I would have to declare. Now the girl was getting a full fat folder of documents off her drawer... That was a really scary moment. “Now she is going to look through all the regulations for foreign motor vehicles entering China and she is going to find out that I need Chinese number plate and Chinese drivers license plus someone in a Land Cruiser to follow me all the way for USD150 a day… “ :-( (  I thought I was damned. “Can you please fill this in sir?”, she passed me a couple of customs declaration forms. “Please read the text at the back first.”, she says. “Ufff, we are still moving forward, GOOD!” Another scary moment was behind me. The next one followed immediately: “Goods and materials forbidden for importation into China: Tape recorders, word processors, recorded tapes (video and audio), any kind of storage materials including music and video CDs, computers, …” "Great, what am I going to do with the stack of CDs that I carry with me? And what about the videocassette that’s in my camera already recorded from 95%?” Fortunately I had sent all the rest of the recorded tapes home on Friday. Well, now I had to write down some of the forbidden things that I already mentioned before. Bugger! So I did and in the meantime the girl stamped my Carnet. Now I was worried even more than before because it seemed the bike was through but I carried forbidden things and materials. If they refused me now it was going to hurt much more…

The guy and the girl both looked through the list and wanted me to bring all of it to the office and show it to them. So I did. They looked at each of the things briefly, checked the make and model and everything seems to be OK. Then the officer wants me to show him the rest of the bag. There was only food and similar, to him unimportant, stuff. “Do you carry any CDs” he asks. “If I tell him the real number I’m done. If I say that I don’t have any and he wants to see the content of my panniers I’m in even bigger trouble.” I’m analyzing the situation quickly in my head. “Yes, I have two CDs with my music. You see, I’m traveling for a year, maybe two and I could not live without my music…” I confess and explain. They both smile and seem to understand. If he did had a look into my panniers and found the two stacks of CDs I could still say that that was what I meant. Fortunately he didn’t have any other search demand. “OK sir, that is all, thank you and have a nice journey.”

I’m walking out of the door and towards my bike thinking: “Is that really it? Am I now really permitted to ride in China?” NO, not yet! “Excuse me sir, how did you go?” It is the young immigration officer… “OK, everything is fine.” I reply. “Hmmm…” is his reaction and I can see in his face that he is quite surprised. “Step in my office, please.”
“Nooo, nooo, no, no, no!! Please don’t let him complicate things again. I hope he doesn’t know about the stupid regulations.” I’m scared again…
“I have to give you this…” he points on a thick greenish paper with some Chinese writing on it.
“Oh really?” I think for myself quite relieved. “OK” I reply with yet another leisurely friendly smile.
He fills it in with some of my personal and motorbike details, tears the biggest part off the bundle for me and almost apologetically says: “It is 1 yuan.”
“Oh, that’s OK.” I reply happily, whatever the exchange rate is (I had no idea whatsoever at that point as I really didn’t count on actually getting into China.). “Where can I change money?”
“In the fruit and vegetables stand on the other side of the street.” He says.
“Oh, is there a bank?” I ask mainly because I could not be sure about the exchange rate the old lady in the fruit stand would impose on me – someone who had no idea whatsoever.
“Yes, there is a bank about 700 meters form here.”
“7 hundred meters!?” I’m trying to confirm with him.
A white guy has been standing at the counter a couple of meters from us for a while now and he offers me 20 yuan note.
“How much is it?” I ask.
“About 2 dollars, but it is OK, you can have it as I don’t need it anymore.”
“Oh thanks.” I appreciate his help and still ask him to take the two dollars form me as he still saved me walking to the bank with all my stuff around my neck and shoulders.
In the meantime an older officer peeking over the shoulder of the young one and talking to him from time to time – he for example asked me through the young one’s translation what was my job, what was I going to do in China, through which border crossing did I play to exit China etc. – corrects this amount to 4 yuan.
“Sorry sir, it is actually four yuan. I was mistaken.” Tells me the young officer.
“That is OK, no worries.” (At the end of the day it is still only 50 cents while before I was preparing to have to pay even up to 200 dollars if worst came to worse as that would be still cheaper than the flight to Kathmandu or the wait for Myanmar visa..)
I pay, I get my receipt and I get the greenish paper that almost looks like a temporary numberplate. I am instructed to show it to “his solders” as he put it.  He meant Chinese solders when I run into them or the police probably. I haven’t run into these guys so far and I am about 200km deep into Chinese territory.

So now you know – I am actually roaming China on my motorbike (Did you enjoy the suspense? ;-) )  Not only I am in China on my motorbike, but I am here without an overpriced government “follower”, without a tiniest proof that the local officers would be corrupted and without any restriction. AND...I am here LEGALY!!! :-)) Am I the first one in years who got here on a motorbike under such favorable conditions? I know that the readers of this article who also read or personally experienced all the same stories that I read on the net (mostly HorizonsUnlimited.com) about problems and virtual impossibility to get into China with a motorbike are not less surprised than I am. The only people who managed to get in in the past few years seem to be those who either paid for pre-arranging the numberplate and drivers license in advance and/or accepted and paid for the government “follower” or those who basically smuggled their bikes into China on a truck from Mongolia, risking loosing it and having lots of other troubles if they were caught. I have all the documentation I need, did everything legally and am in the country as free as I can be. I truly still can’t believe it.

Has anything changed in China as far as personal motor vehicle importation goes or was I pure lucky to struck officers who are not familiar enough with the regulations? Was my timing so perfect this time that I went through the border on Sunday when maybe the senior officers are enjoying the weekend and the young and less experienced ones are working? Or is it possible that they are actually those not corrupted who only follow the regulations while the other bikers reporting about impossibility to get into China on a motorbike had bad luck to strike the other group who maybe expects large sums of money to be paid to them to “make an exception”? Who knows… All I can say is that my experience so far is good except for some of the disgusting habits of Chinese men (for details read the following article).

Today I was riding up and down between towns and villages usually located at the lower altitudes of about 6 to 8 hundred meters and peaks of 11 to 13 hundred meters. And even though it was raining on and off (mostly on) the whole day I laughed into my helmet the whole time anyway. I WAS IN CHINA! :) My destination tomorrow is Kunming, a city of about 1 700 000 inhabitants located at an elevation of 1890 meters above sea level.

I found a motel (well, it was the first place I asked if they in fact were a place for one to stay overnight) and was told that the price was 10. Only after I already moved into my room and parked the bike in their locked garage I realized that the girl didn’t tell me in which currency it was 10. I thought that 10 Yuan might actually be too little (as it is only just over 1 USD) and a look into Lonely Planet would suggest that it was definitely price in dollars. That was not too good but according to Lonely Planet I would have to come to terms with similae amounts in this area even for budget accommodation. Great! :-( I really didn’t think I would get into China so I didn’t bother to read the info about it before.

Later I saw the toilet and the bathroom and I thought that I was not going to give them 10 dollars for that. The toilet was about 150 meters form my room and “a shithole” is pretty much the word that defines it. Form now on when I hear the word “shithole” I’m gonna see a picture of this “toilet” before my eyes. It is a set of concrete holes of about 25 by 120 centimeters with no dividing screens between them. Peaces of used toilet paper were all around and the “products” of other people just 30 centimeters below. It seems to lead straight into the river down the slope behind it. I don’t think I will be swimming in any of Chinese rivers anytime soon. Well, and the shower room was not too much better, but at least it didn’t smell :-).

Apart of all the above however the family that owns the motel was very nice. I had dinner with them, eating from the same pots as everybody else, having rice in my own little bowl.

In the morning I received a breakfast too and then I went to sort out my bill. I was prepared to object and negotiate about the price but to my surprise there was nothing to negotiate about. Unbelievably the price was really only 10 Yuan, plus another 10 Yuan for all the food. USD 2.50 for a night, dinner and a breakfast was definitely a bargain.

(282km)