Day 1: Part 2 - Hotel Challenge

Leaving the 7-11, I spied a sign that read Xinwu Green Corridors. For the next fifty kilometres, the route largely took me along a series of paved paths that cut through small rice fields and areas crowded with bamboo, small palms and other trees. The only obstacles I had to go around were the slow moving four and six passenger pedal bikes that seemed popular for the many weekend visitors .  

I wasn’t sure how far I’d get on this first day, but when I hit eighty kilometres, I decided Zhunan would be a good overnight stop. Zhunan is a sizeable city, so I thought that even without data connection on my phone, I’d easily find a hotel. It turned out to be more difficult than I imagined. To my untrained mind, the Chinese characters on all the buildings looked the same, as I rode down street after, street. Nothing looked hotel-like. I stopped at a gas station and asked one of the workers if he knew of any hotels nearby.

Enjoying the solitude of a ride through the forest

Along the path were small plots OF rice growing

“Let me think about it,” he said, while moving from pump to pump, filling cars with petrol.

”Go down this road, then turn left,” he said pointing a short distance away., “After a while you’ll come to a small tunnel and a park, there’ll be a Family Mart on the corner, and a mechanic (he paused thinking of the English word for the place cars are serviced), a little bit further and you should see a hotel.”

“Xi xi,” thank you, I said, knowing that it would be folly trying to follow those directions. I considered leaving Zhunan and continuing south, but the research I did at home suggested few options along my route. And back-tracking twenty-five kilometres to Hsinchu was not appealing. Then I realized, that even though my esim wasn’t working, I could turn on my “home data” despite incurring the roaming charge.

Searching the area for hotels, I discovered there weren’t many options, but there was one a few kilometres away, which was close to a park. I wondered if it was the one my gas station friend was trying to direct me to. Off I went, following the directions on my phone.

“Is this a hotel?” I asked the young woman, who came out of a small booth-like building. She looked at me without saying anything. I asked again.

“For one person? Do you smoke?”

“Yes. And no.”

She went back inside and came out with her phone, showing me a fee of 3,800 NTD, or $175. It was more than I wanted to pay, but I had few choices. I gave her my passport and credit card, and then she showed me her phone: again. The translated words read: you can’t check in until 8 p.m.

It wasn’t yet three in the afternoon. I didn’t want to wait for five hours, so I asked if I could check in now. She typed into her phone and showed me the screen. If I checked in now, I could stay for 12 hours, and check out at 2 a.m. I asked for my passport and credit card back and was about to leave when she gave me another price of 5,000 NTD.

“Too much,” I said and started looking for another hotel. A few kilometres away was the Chih-Po Mountain Motel. Off I went, zigzagging  through the city.

Things looked promising until the receptionist at this hotel told me I couldn’t check-in until 6 p.m. I asked why I couldn’t check-in now. She thought about the question for a moment and then said I could check in now if I paid a higher fee. It was still cheaper than the first hotel and I just wanted a place to shower and rest.

With few restaurants in the area, dinner was a microwaved meal at 7-11. And at 7 p.m. and having not been in a bed for almost 48 hours, I gave in to the fatigue and fell asleep.

Golden hour at a temple across the street from my hotel