Today we're leaving Qingdao for Yantai. We left the hotel in a taxi and asked the driver to take us to the long-distance bus station. After driving for a significant amount of time (racking the bill up ever higher), we arrived at this parking lot filled with buses of all shapes and sizes.
We wandered in between all these mammoth vehicles until we finally found a little shack that we assumed was the ticket booth.
We asked for tickets to Yantai and theoretically this should be the easiest thing ever. I mean, you walk up and simply say "Yantai" or if you can, "Yantai, please." Somehow things got complicated, we were relatively certain they were saying they had no tickets to where we were heading. Why on earth not? Is this personal?
After making several phone calls to various Chinese friends, having them talk to the ticket seller and translating back to us, we found out that we were, in fact, at the wrong bus station.
It's times like these that the whole travelling thing feels a bit ridiculous and hopeless.
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