I wake late again, but this time I don't feel good for it. I think I've overslept now. I go to the bar and get a coffee, which turns out to be free because I had booked through Hostel World! I walk around the city. It's not what I had imagined, but I like it. There are ancient style gate ways amidst modern day shopping malls. 

I return to the hostel, check out, order lunch and sit on the terrace again. All ready to go to the train station I drop my phone. The screen goes black apart from 10-15% of it. Fortunately I had walked by an apple repair shop so I practically run there. They replace the screen and battery on the spot and I run back to the hostel. 

My sense of direction is completely off in China. Probably isn't helped by the fact I can't read a single road sign and the ones I can read make no sense to me. I get back to the hostel, grab my pack and head off toward the train station. 

So, I got lost. Very lost. I walked and walked but eventually I did make it to the train station. I queued for twenty five minutes only to be told when I got to the front that I needed to go to the special assistance queue where no one had been queuing! Ticket in hand I follow the crowds and find myself in a large, bright, clean waiting room. There are gift shops to the left and food shops selling snacks for the passengers. Locals are all buying these enormous pot noddle type things but I can't work out what flavour they are and I leave with dried mango, Oreos (I've eaten more Oreos while I've been travelling than in my entire life!) these flower pastries and salted crisps. Everyone in the waiting room stared at me. For a while I was the only Westerner in the room, a young travelling couple arrived shortly after and I had hoped that they might have been in the same cabin as me. 

Fifteen minutes before the train was due to the depart boarding starts and passengers are given access to the train platform. Could this be any different to India? I descend the stairs and reach a pristine, fragrant platform. Stewards, in crisp uniforms, wearing caps, and white gloves that remind me of Mickey Mouse stand at the door to each carriage. Since I couldn't actually read my ticket I didn't know what carriage to get on. I showed the first steward my ticket, at carriage one, and she pointed to ’11’ on my ticket. I climb aboard at carriage 11 and I'm greeted by another steward who shows me to my cabin. I'm the first one in. A few moments later a middle aged couple arrive and soon after a man perhaps in his early 40s. They all look at me. I AM NOT LOST! The train sets off. I read Shantaram and devour my Oreos.