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Sorry, No Camera, No Pics.....
After a glass of tea, and a few cigarettes, the police drove us to the Aliens Registration Bureau; the least they could do. As distressed, paperless citizens to their country, we needed documentation.
A piece of red cloth was thrown up against the street window, and a Polaroid camera produced. Passport photos for future visas were also in the stolen bag, so after the compulsory one for my new identity paper, the remaining three were handed over in a little envelope. I was relieved of 30 Yuan for the service.
There was a new British Consulate on the 53rd floor of the Guangdong International Hotel, 339 Huanshi Dong Lu (suite 5305-7), Guangzhou.
I think we were their first customers.
Katherine Zhao is really only a commercial officer, but the young girl did the best she could. She spent hours on the phone to the British Embassy in Peking, to the train station to secure next day tickets, and to various hotels at seven in the evening to ensure that we could withdraw something on a credit card; at least enough to get us to the capital before Christmas.
We would still have a day to kill in Guangzhou before we could catch the thirty-six hour train to Beijing.
Get me out of China
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