Suzhou; China

Last night was another sleeper train night (Xi’an-Suzhou) which was even more fun than the last, but with a far worse nights sleep. More ¥5 (50p) beer got cracked out, and the mother of all games of Never Have I Ever got played. It was a great night which ended when we got told off for making too much noise. That was definitely where the fun ended, because the beds were too short to lay straight but too narrow to lay in the fetal position, and the train had a very poor AC system and a driver with a heavy right foot. 

Before I left Xi’an I went shopping with my German tandem buddy to buy a new phone. Walking to the shop and buying a phone took less than 30 minutes, but we then spent a further 2.5 hours trying to find our way back in some pretty heavy rain. 

Today I went to the ‘Venice of the East’ in Suzhou, which was essentially just a canal, although it did smell similar to Venice. We sat on a terrace drinking beer, which would have been lovely on a sunny day, but unfortunately it was chucking it down harder than it had been in Xi’an the day before. Conceding defeat on al fresco drinking I went to my hotel, which is not a classy establishment and smells as seedy as it looks. 

Love Emily x

Xi’an; China

Yesterday we disembarked the train at Xi’an at 7:45am and tried our luck with checking in to our hostel straight away. The negotiations didn’t go our way, so most of the morning was spent living our best homeless lives by using public bathrooms to wash and change in. I can’t emphasise what a state we were in enough: we’d climbed the Great Wall on a 34c day, boarded the sleeper train in the same sweaty clothes, and the train bathrooms weren’t a place you’d visit to get clean (quite the opposite, in fact). Whilst brushing my teeth with the help of a warm bottle of water I thought “this is why I work hard, so I can go on trips and do this kind of thing” with absolutely no irony whatsoever. I cannot emphasise the benefits of backpacking enough: you’ll always come home from a trip with new friends, great stories, and having grown as a person by expanding your comfort zone. It’s my favourite thing in life.

After doing a reasonable job of freshening up I went to the City Walls of Xi’an and rode a tandem round the top of them (13km perimeter - they were massive and were the type of thing that only needs to be done once) with a German guy I met. We were talking about Black Mirror and how scarily true aspects of it could be, and then got onto the episode where the prime minister has to shag a pig to save a princess. The topic of David Cameron then came up, and my new German friend has since been asking many questions about British politics. 

This evening a group of us went to Xi’an’s Muslim Quarter, which had a busy market and a lot of peanuts. I tried on a dress at one of the market stalls before clarifying the price of it, which was a basic error to make. I was thinking about buying it so I asked about the price whilst trying it on and the seller then joined me in the changing area to start negotiations. I don’t think I was playing my haggling A-game whilst standing in my pants but I managed to get her from ¥1200 (~£120) to ¥150 (~£15) which is respectable. She was standing between me and my clothes and I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the disparity in our attire so I thought ‘screw this, a dress isn’t worth this shit’, grabbed my clothes, and walked back into the main part of the stall. She was seriously not taking no (or even “I’d like to leave now”) for an answer and tried to block my exit from her stall, so I took the only way out that I could see: pretending to be interested in something by the doorway, moving in that direction, and legging it.

I’m now sitting in the communal area of the hostel, knocking back beers with other travellers and wishing this trip could last a lot longer.

Love Emily x

Beijing; China

I’m writing this post, pissed, on a sleeper train from Beijing to Xi’an. I’ve spent the past 3 days in Beijing having a great time. Today I visited the Great Wall and, whilst eating I’m a restaurant at the foot of the mountains with a view of the wall, was struck by a realisation of how lucky I am. How lucky I am: to have survived my many and various illnesses when the odds haven’t been in my favour, and also how lucky I have been to have been born in the UK, to have had the childhood I had which gave me the skills necessary to both cope, and use the negative energy from my illness(es) and losses to motivate me to have these wonderful experiences. 

On arrival in Beijing I got a taxi to my hotel, which was a far smoother journey than I was bracing myself for given my past Asian experiences. No horns, no collisions, and no extortion. I arrived at my hotel and met Katie, who is of a very similar age to me and also grew up in Northamptonshire. My first observation was that my (non-existent) research had meant I’d brought the wrong plug sockets so I went to a local market and brought an adapter which sparked when I plugged it in. That night we met up with a group of other travellers and went to a local restaurant for dinner. After we’d eaten we still fancied a few drinks and asked the restaurant if this was possible. The response was “yes, but you’ll need to do it on the pavement but we’ll provide the chairs”.  I’ve taken up worse offers in my life so that’s exactly what we did, much to the amusement of the locals who took photos of us. We drank, we talked, and we had a great time.

The next day I went to Tian’anmen Square and the Forbidden City. Both sites are impressive, but the first thing that struck me was the lack of explanatory literature and after talking to a few locals it became clear that they legit had no idea of the significance of 1989. Bloody mental. It was raining so I bought a rainbow umbrella hat for ¥30, which would have been a bargain at twice the price for such a magnificent item of millinery.

Following this I hit a bar and went to the loo. I’ve never stored a phone in my back pocket before and certainly never dropped one down the toilet, but that’s exactly what happened on this occasion. Of all the (squat) toilets in all the world, this was not the one one to pick. I scooped it out and tried to resuscitate it as best I could with the limited resources available, but unfortunately it RIP-ed that afternoon (Megan, that’s why communication might be limited, not necessarily because of anaphylaxis, sepsis, or kidnap) and it was in a bar that was charging ¥50 (£5) for a beer, so not even really worth it.

Today I went to the Great Wall. I took a chair-lift up to the top (screw those steps up), and walked 2 miles of the wall. It was undoubtedly impressive but somewhat marred by the infamous ‘Beijing Smog’ which affected visibility. It was still well worth the sweaty effort of climbing a zillion steep and uneven steps, and I took a toboggan ride down to the base which was BRILLIANT. 

This evening I boarded a sleeper train to Xian with the other travellers I met in Beijing and quite a few beers. Someone brought a bottle of Bijou (a 43% spirit) and dished out (large) shots (in cups) on the train. I’m not entirely sure how it happened, but I was given the title of “champion” because I saw off every cup thrust my way, whilst remaining just sober enough to write this post. Colin taught me well.

I’m off to sleep in my (middle) bunk now, and I’ll give you an update on the head situation when I next have WiFi.

Love Emily x

2019 London Marathon

05:33:13

I was hoping for a 4 hour something time, but I smashed my 2014 prognosis just by crossing the start line. To get over the finish line, no matter how slowly, is pretty good. Illness during training meant I only got up to 15 miles (and they were run/walk) so I was very pleasantly surprised how easy the first half was. I started struggling at mile 14 and pushed through until mile 19 where I needed to stop for a sit down and a freeze pop. Until mile 19 the smiles had been genuine, but after that point I really had to work at it and kept mentally re-reading the sports psychology articles I read about smile-induced dopamine hits (I’m pretty sure that was a fair substitute for actual training). I’m absolutely certain it was this mental preparation which got me round, helped by the people who came to cheer me on. I watched the BBC ‘Finish Line’ stream, and saw myself a) confirm with a bloke called Phil that we’d just crossed the actual finish line and there was no more running to do, and b) high-five him. 

I thought I’d feel different after doing it, physically and mentally. I had very real expectations of physical pain but - whilst I didn’t expect it to hit me the second I stopped - 11 blisters, a bra related friction burn and some unfortunate buttock chaffing wasn’t as bad as it could have been. I also thought I’d feel elated and on top of the world (instead I just felt knackered and thirsty) because running a marathon would be the hardest thing I’d done in my life but it absolutely wasn’t - the physical and psychological recovery from transverse myelitis was 100% more difficult. But that in itself is a massive reason to be happy: it’s a 33%/33%/33% split of people with transverse myelitis who will make a good recovery/some recovery/no recovery, and of the 33% who make a ‘good’ recovery I don’t know the percentage who will go on to run a marathon but I bet it’s not many.

Love Emily x

5 weeks to go...

I got out of hospital 2 weeks ago after 7 days of IV abx. I can’t believe, given the severity of my diagnosis, how (relatively) little time I spent as an inpatient and how well I felt (after being stabilised in the initial hours) during it.

My right kidney still hurts, and I’m struggling with the pain and general fatigue and feebleness. Marathon training feels impossible. 

However. 

I am 28. I have survived septicaemia, meningitis, and more episodes of neutropenic sepsis than I can remember. I don’t know how many times I’ve been given adrenaline. I’ve had a spinal lesion and learned to walk again. I’ve been hit by a speeding car, and escaped from angry elephants in Zimbabwe. 

I can see off 26.2 miles.

Septicaemia?!

Marathon training wasn’t going brilliantly, and my first hospital admission of 2019 has buggered it right up!

It started off with the usual story: I felt generally unwell for a few days, my right kidney was a bit painful so I took my stand-by antibiotics, and on Monday my temperature was 38.3 so I called haematology.  Between calling the assessment line and arriving at the hospital I felt worse and worse, and by the time I arrived I was sweating and rigoring. Classic neutropenic sepsis.

That was 4 days ago and since then I’ve been on 3 types on IV antibiotics, had a kidney scan (my right one is inflamed, oedematous and bloody painful), and grown E-coli in my blood cultures. Pyelonephritis —> bactereamia (aka septicaemia!).

I still fully intent to drag my arse around 26.2 miles of London on 28th April. That’s got to be worth a tenner, surely?

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/emily-stringer2

Love Emily x

St Petersburg; Russia

On this week of annual leave I have added the following to my bucket list:

• Get involved in a borderline kidnap situation in a foreign taxi
• Get denied entry to Belarus

...and achieved them both.

The flight from Heathrow to St Petersburg was lovely as I had the entire row of 3 seats to myself, and lay across them for a nap. It was wonderful, and I landed feeling energised and ready to take on a very snowy Russia.

That was an error.

I’m reasonably well travelled and I KNOW the precautions to take when taking a taxi abroad. I know to agree a fare in advance, but he spoke minimal English and kept saying ‘taxi meter’. How badly could that realistically end up? The guy had a lanyard, so of course he must’ve been legit!

The driver seemed nice, and I feel such a muppet for writing that. I spend a good chunk of my working life explaining that people who do bad things (perpetrators of abuse) very often appear to be good people because they HAVE to - very few women would continue to date an abusive man if he leant over the dinner table on their first date and punched her in the face. No, they have to be pleasant and trustworthy (initially, at least) so they can then change when the victim is in too deep to change their mind.

The driver insisted on helping to put my rucksack in the boot which, retrospectively, was the first red flag as my passport was in there. During the drive to the city nothing specific happened, but I started feeling increasingly uneasy and distrustful of this man. I can’t pinpoint why. I turned out to be right and not just a cynical cow when he drove me to a cash point - even though he had no idea how much money I had on me. I was starting to become very aware of my vulnerability, and he was becoming scarier with each complaint I raised, or question I asked. It was also becoming clear that he spoke fluent English and the situation was getting dodgier and dodgier.

I lied and said my purse was in my rucksack, reasoning that way I could take it in the back of the car with me, and jump out of the door if I needed to. He accompanied me to the cash point where I withdrew more rubles than I thought I would ever need and then, purely for a lack of an alternative, I got back in his car. The roads were icy and fresh snow was starting to fall so traffic was moving slowly. My mobile data doesn’t work in Russia so I couldn’t use my phone to map our route against my hotels location, but I was sure we weren’t going in the right direction. I asked him how much the meter was at, and he replied 8,000 rubles - my research told me to expect to pay 800-1000. We were clearly doing laps of St Petersburg to increase the fare, and he was ignoring my instructions to take me to my hotel. I was looking out of the window to try to get my bearings, and then I spotted my hotel. He drove straight past it, so at the next set of traffic lights I chucked 5,000 rubles at him, gambled on there not being child-locks on the door (of course there wasn’t; there weren’t even seatbelts), and legged it to my hotel.

I told the receptionist about the ride, and she offered to help me report it to the police but I didn’t see the point given that I was leaving Russia for Belarus the next day. Instead she upgraded my room which was lovely. I got to my room, inserted the keycard into the door, and it was opened (from the inside) by a man who, I assume, was a hotel employee. He had no cleaning equipment with him, and the room looked entirely undisturbed, so I shrugged it off and ran myself a bath. Whilst in the bath I heard a knock at the door, which I ignored. Then came another one, so I wrapped myself in a towel and answered it (still covered in bubbles). It was a maid, offering me a chocolate, and asking if I wanted my sheets changed. I politely declined, inwardly thinking “I’ve not slept in them yet, love”, and grumpily shut the door. Then I remembered about The Man who came out of the room, contemplated what he might have done on the bedding/what the maid knew that I didn’t, and then wished I took her up on the offer.

I got up early the next morning to do the exploring of St Petersburg I was too annoyed to do yesterday, and saw frozen rivers, pretty cathedrals and churches, and  an old lady fall over. In the afternoon I had a vanilla taxi ride (costing 800 rubles) to the airport, and checked in to my flight to Minsk. Well, I tried to. 

Before I left I’d researched the visas I’d need, and the google blurb from gov.uk clearly stated:

“All British national passport holders (except those entering on a diplomatic or official passport) can now enter Belarus for a maximum of 30 days without a visa (the day you arrive counts as day one, regardless of arrival time).”

Marvellous.

With hindsight, I really should have clicked on the link and read the part which explained:

“If you’re travelling immediately from/to a Russian airport or entering Belarus at any other border point other than Minsk International Airport, this visa-free arrangement doesn’t apply and you’ll need a visa.”

Instead, the check-in assistant took great pleasure in informing me.

I researched my alternatives as best as I could using crappy airport WiFi. Option 1: get a flight to Estonia (where I was going after Belarus) and pick up my itinerary from there. Option 2: fly home. The flight for option 1 was the next day, but my Russian visa expired at midnight. Not wanting to spend a night kipping in an airport, or messing with Russian border control, I picked option 2 and took off a few hours later.

Not my most successful trip, and the first one I’ve ever abandoned!

Love Emily x