Over the next seven months, I hope to take myself and the reader through vast deserts, claustrophobic jungles, towering mountains, expansive plains and lush farmland. To experience the chaos of enormous cities, to the intricacy and subtlety of tiny villages.
Following the diving course, it was time to head south and take in the sights of the “Golden [east] Coast” of Australia. Or so I thought.
Unfortunately, at the exact same time that I was planning to head south, so was a category five cyclone “Hamish” – similar to the worst category of hurricane there is. Consequently, the sailing, diving and pretty much anything else which resembles fun was called off. Darn.
This then prompted a series of events, culminating in multiple extended bus journeys to the subsequent southern town, just to be told that everything was being canceled from the day I had arrived.
After 38 in little over 52 hours of bus inducing boredom, I finally arrived in Brisbane. By this time, to make matters a little worse, I had a doctor take a look at my ear, only to be told that it had been perforated and that I would not be able to undertake any activities involving getting my ear wet.
To celebrate this news, I went jet-skiing.
Before I went on this adventure around the world, I had been a keen sailor for the past few years, learning the ropes, literally on a two man dinghy every other weekend. Whenever I was out and about, I used to discuss with my very experienced sailing partner about many things in life. One time, I rather accidentally wondered into a sailing minefield. Jet skiers.
In the same way by which classic car enthusiasts hate “Gary-boy” racers, sailors despise jet-skiers. I don't know if it's entirely due to the wake produced by these machines which they despise, more the attitude and total lack of respect for the invisible ten metre zone of control every sail boat would like to command. Either way, for one afternoon, I was to join the enemy.
Jet skis are easy enough to control, with a jet of water shooting out of the back in various directions being your only means of propulsion and steering. If you want to go fast, just crank the throttle. If you want to stop, don't. With that wonderful introduction to the world of jet-skis under my belt, it was time to take to the water and see what they could do.
It turns out that they are rather fast. In fact, they are very fast indeed – reaching top speeds in excess of 50 knots. When doing these speeds though, you have to cling on pretty hard, otherwise ripples on the surface of the water will do their best to throw you askew.
Stopping off on an island just outside of Brisbane, the fellow jet-skiers an I discussed our sore thighs (for that is what you use to hold on) and sore everything else too. Everyone had a smile on their face though – so the pain can't have been that bad!
The return journey was uneventful, although did prove the ideal time to go flat out, trying to jump the wakes of various boats on our way back. Luckily, the wind was awful that day, so I don't think I was sworn at by many sailors – if I was, sorry, I know how you feel!!
With time rapidly running out, and a need to get to somewhere lacking in cyclones, it was time to enter Sydney before an early morning departure to New Zealand. There, I was to spend far longer than the ten days in Australia and hopefully achieve far more too!
Australia. Let's be honest, it's not hard to travel around England down under. The language is the same, the food is good, the weather better and overall, life is easy. There's no coincidence that it's in the middle of my holiday – I wanted to have a break from travel; Australia made the logical choice.
To ensure I didn't just arrive and veg out, I had booked myself on a five day dive course in the Great Barrier Reef. First though, I had a day and a half to explore Sydney.
After arrival, it became apparent that the clothing I had on wasn't all that suitable. Wearing a wool top and thick woollen hiking socks was not going to cut it in Sydney, where the temperature was in the high 20's. Cairns (where the diving course was) was even worse, being about 30-35 degrees. Time to get some new socks and some swimming trunks. Whilst I was at it, a haircut would also help.
After I had all this sorted it was time to explore Sydney by night. I was staying in a backpacking hostel, with 6 people to a dorm and had been kindly invited out to a local bar by a promoter under the lure of free booze. Now, I don't know which business school the bar managers from the Kings Cross district in Sydney went to, but I hope it has since shut down. Almost every bar offers free booze, free entry, free pick-up and some even offer free food. No strings attached.
As you can imagine, this was rather appealing. We strolled from one bar to another, taking advantage of either one or two free drinks, before moving on to the next bar, again consuming the free drinks. Value for money wise, this was the best night out to be had anywhere!
Now that I had seen some of the night-life, it was time to see the sights Sydney has to offer. Historically, Australia is pathetic, especially when compared to the history of China, so I decided to focus on what it does better – sports and aquatic life.
Taking a guided cycle tour of the city, I picked up most of the “must do” sights of Sydney in little under six hours. Here I managed to befriend the two guides and spent the remainder of the evening with them, chatting about life in Sydney. One thing I had noticed from almost everyone that I had met – Sydney has sticky streets. Many people arrive for a short term event of activity and never leave. Before I was struck with the same disease, it was time to take in the aquarium to do some research on the fishes I would be seeing later, then departing to Cairns for the diving course.
Arriving in Cairns, it became apparent that it was a town focused on one thing only – diving. Every shop was related to diving or had diving in mind. Signing on for the diving course commencing the next day, it was time to ensure that I can pass the initial test.
To go diving, you first need to pass a swimming exam. Now, swimming is one of about two sports that I really don't like, the second being football. However, since the last time I went swimming, my personal fitness has vastly improved. In fact, the last time I went properly swimming, I think I was about 14 years old and struggled to make it past 100m. To pass the test, I had to swim 200m and float in the pool for 10 minutes. Gulp – literally.
Donning the new swimming trunks and looking rather spangly with my lack of tan fresh from the northern hemisphere, I jumped into the hostel pool and began to float. Timer started, I kicked around and flapped a little bit, after a while I rested into a nice rhythm. Getting a little tired, I looked at my watch, 7 minutes 48 seconds, TO GO. Oh dear. Luckily, at this point someone saw what I was doing and offered some advice. “Just float on your back and wiggle your arms”. This guy was a life-saver, so whoever you are, thank you so much.
Over the next five days, ten of us would learn how to dive, completing two separate courses and gaining both our “Open Water” and “Adventure Diver” PADI qualifications. The first qualification is what most people do, and allows you to dive to 18 metres, the second tags on another 12 metres, bringing it to a total of 30 metres. I had signed up to both as I really wanted the extra confidence the second course would give me.
After half a day in the classroom getting bored to tears by the most fundamental of dive videos (do you know that things less dense than water FLOAT? - WOW) it was time to go into the pool for our swimming test (which turns out was easy after the practise) and our first confined water session.
Setting up our diving gear as instructed, we all waddled into the pool, feeling about as graceful as an elephant asked to hop through an army assault course wearing a tutu. Once in the pool though, our huge SCUBA system was transformed from a weighty cumbersome object into a miraculous device. Putting the regulators into our mouths for the first time, we breathed in... yuck... plastic air!
Now it was time to submerge and try the same thing, just under water. The initial response of one's body is to fight the urge to breath in. You're under water after all, so you would normally be holding your breath. Once the initial panic was suppressed though, you soon became used to breathing in under water. This was strange, but it was also darn cool!
Over the next two days we would hone those skills, diving to the full depth of 4m the pool allowed and practising breathing from an alternative source and clearing one's mask after full removal. All these skills would become invaluable when we finally hit the sea, so practise in this environment was very useful. We were all paired up with someone, who would become our “buddy” if we got into issues, or ran out of air and needed to borrow some rather quickly. I was 'devastated' to be paired with officially the coolest of our crowd.
Before the end of the second day I was confident underwater with my kit. It was just like swimming, with the tiresome problem of breathing and holding breath taken away! Of particular fun was the joy of doing endless back-flips whilst underwater – I'm easily amused.
Completing our confined water section and the easiest written exam known to man, it was now time to jump aboard a boat and join some already qualified divers for our open water sessions – 8 dives in all. It's a hard life learning in the Great Barrier Reef, but someone has to do it! The only draw-back was the all in one "Smirf-Suit" which we wore to protect us from jellyfish.
Given that I was blown away by the whole process whilst in a pool with nothing to look at except for the tiles, you can imagine how happy I was to see some real scenery and fishes. Unfortunately for you though, we weren't allowed to take a camera on any training dives, which were all but one of our dives.
The practise continued as we completed our qualifications, gradually diving longer and deeper, whilst performing more technical tasks. On the final night though, there was a bit of a change. A night dive. Until this point, we hadn't seen any sharks - probably because sharks hunt mostly at night, being either docile, or asleep during the day. Most people would count their blessings at not seeing a shark, especially as there were two shark attacks in Sydney the week before I arrived. I really wanted to see a shark though, and I got my wish.
Now, if anyone has seen the film Aliens, whereby the marines all had puny little torches, which they were waving around frantically in the dark, searching for the aliens which were hunting them, you now know pretty much what a night dive with sharks is like. With our group of four people in the water, we dove into the pitch black water and quickly whipped our torches around, searching for the tell-tell signs of sharks; the reflection of their retinas...
Suddenly, the lead torch of our instructor stopped moving from side to side and seemed to “lock on” to a target. Through the gloom, the target grew larger and larger, until it came into clear view. A 2m reef shark. Luckily, humans aren't on the menu of that species!
Over the next 30 minutes we not only saw the sharks, but in a few moments of insanity, I actually joined my instructor in giving chase to a shark, in an attempt to touch it. Although I didn't succeed, getting within two metres of one of these creatures was close enough. Their power and grace is something that many other fish are still yet to acquire. I can see why they are top of the food chain – one I was very glad not to be part of.
With our trip drawing to a close, it was time to complete some final dives and paperwork before I was now officially qualified to dive to 30 metres. Hurray!
Back on land, and with what I thought was water in my ear, we had one final night celebrating our newly found diving qualification. Here at the very prestigious establishment of the “Woolshed”, we observed a wet t-shirt competition before dancing the night away like idiots. I even met someone who had trained with the military based in my home town of Poole, before discussing the intricacies of Australian special forces training – whilst drunk.
Bidding my buddies farewell, it was time to depart to the south with a view to taking a couple of days of sailing around some deserted islands.... little did I know that Mr Hamish would have other ideas...
Beijing, the capital of China and my last port of call before Australia.
Upon arrival by plane my first port of call was the big sight of China, big being the operative word. It was the Great Wall of China, and it ain't no picket fence.
Another early start brought with it a frigid sunny day. Following a two hour drive we had arrived at a remote section of the Great Wall, just outside the throngs of tourists who normally inhabit the key tourist spots. In an attempt to attract more tourists to the area, the wall had been partially refurbished a few years ago to give us the idea of what it was like in its glory day.
Shortly after setting off it seemed that we had acquired some extras to our group. In true Chinese style, we had about four people tagging on to our original group of nine from the starting point. One of our group asked (in Chinese) what they were doing and they replied honestly “We are going to follow you all the way [for the next four hours it turns out] until you buy enough trinkets to make our day worthwhile.” Well, at least they were honest about it!
With our mixed ability group, out-running our unwelcome guests wasn't possible, so we just had to endure as they partially acted like guides and partially tried to sell us anything from beer, water and food to trinkets of our journey. After a while, they almost became part of the group, helping those who needed it and offering to take photos without charging(!)
The wall was certainly one up from the Terracotta Warriors, and was damn impressive in both scale and conception. Completely useless historically, especially when you remember that it wasn't actually one large wall, but sections of very long walls. Unfortunately, the enemy the Chinese faced at the time were known for consisting almost entirely of mounted units; the wall just added a couple of day's horse riding practise before the battle.
After arriving back from a great day at the wall it was time to get down to business.
Whilst I was in China, more than three separate groups of people mentioned that I should get myself a tailored suit. My last one was purchased when I was a little heavier on the ground and I had since lost a good four inches around the waist, gaining significant width around the legs due to some serious cycling. It was time to go for my first tailoring.
Like all good shopping in China, it was more a battle than a gentle stroll down to the local shops. First, I had to choose my battle-ground. The site must be strategic. It cannot be the fabled Silk Market in Beijing, which is known for it's tailors and tourists alike – this would no doubt have low quality and high prices. It also could not be a true local tailor, as they were known for taking a few weeks to finish a shirt, let alone a suit. What I needed was something in-between...
With the location identified, it was time to choose which one of the many tailors were to get my trade. I decided quality was what mattered the most, and learnt the Chinese for “I want to see the tailored suits you have just created” was. I then went from store to store, not looking at the perfect products which were placed on the manikins, but instead looking at the items for collection. Each item was studied carefully, not that I really had much of a clue what to look for, but stitching especially was pulled and tugged. I think I now have an idea what the UN Weapons inspectors were up to in Iraq – searching for an unknown shaped needle in a stack of needles!
After my fourth store, the quality was deemed acceptable. Now was time to pick the fabric, colours and styles for my two suits. One was the work suit, the other for a wedding of a good friend when I return from my travels.
After a rather lengthy process of trial and elimination, it was time for battle to commence. The price war from hell.
Starting my haggling about a single suit (which started at 300 pounds despite my use of Chinese for the whole haggling process) I managed to battle it down to 110 pounds. Then I threw in the second suit, which was made from a superior fabric – the first was silk, the second cashmere. Finally, after almost 25 minutes of battling, victory was mine. Both suits for 190 pounds. I then mentioned about a tailored shirt, which was priced at 15 final price. The whole lot was mine for 198 pounds. The 8 was a “lucky” number to end the transaction on. I was very chuffed, but still probably got fleeced...
With the sweet smell of victory, despite the fact that I'm sure they are still making a healthy profit margin, it was time to meet my good friend from Xi'an that I walked the mountain pass and enjoyed a meal with the Communist government...
When we finally met we decided on our itinerary for the next few days. Some of the key sights of Beijing, and some of those more random moments which make travel so much fun. Perfect.
First it was time to see the Forbidden Kingdom, the emperor's central throne, and the centre of the kingdom for many years.
Here, Jesse did an excellent job of describing the mentality behind the building. Unlike in western buildings, where the building itself is the most important, the space around the building is almost as important within Eastern styles. The forbidden palace, whilst quite impressive, is not really anything special when removed from the space which it occupies. However, when placed in the middle of a large square, atop a raised plinth, it forces the viewer to look up to the building, and the emperor if he were still there. This then couples with the 4 mile journey through gate after gate, which the viewer would have had to undergo to achieve an audience. Psychologically, it was well ahead of its time.
What causes its vast sense of scale and mystery is all lost when the user finally makes it onto the throne chamber. Once here, you can see out of the kingdom's confines back into the real world. This is a view no normal Chinese would have had through during its use.
Following some more walking and site-seeing, it was time to move on. It was time for one of the more random moments of my travels.
Jesse is part of a very informal ex-pat choir within Beijing and mentioned that he had to attend the choir meeting that day and so would be unable to meet with me in the afternoon. I don't think he was expecting it, and neither was I, but I then offered to come along and join in. After a brief audition in the middle of a street, I was allowed a special entry permit for a single session.
Let's get the record straight right now. I'm certainly no singer. Whilst I'm not tone deaf, I have never done any singing and would regularly mime if I had to sing whilst at school. Time for a baptism of fire...
On arrival, we all sat around a table and very politely drank our Chinese tea, discussing reasonably intellectual topics of conversation. I was now getting a little worried that this was not as relaxed as Jesse had indicated. I was then asked what part I usually play in the choir – much to my shock. Upon hearing that I had no idea at all, we started a song. I was worried.
The song went like this: “Mighty Mickey Mouse, Makes love to Minnie in the moonlight, Mighty nice....”
After each repetition it would get lower, probably by a note, but I didn't have a clue. At the end of approximately six minutes of singing about Mickey's marital prowess, I was one of only two people left 'singing'. It turns out I am a bass, which means I can go very low... so I have a use after all!
Although the singing got slightly less light-hearted, including some Latin and French work, the end result was good enough and I don't think I disgraced my country.
That evening we decided to go out for a final night of fun, indulging in the Russian quarter to appease our sudden lust for a good drink. One bottle of vodka later, we all realised why nights out in the Russian quarter are never a good idea.
With a raging headache, it was time to leave China and Jesse for Australia – diving was calling...
Something to muse from one of our more intellectual topics of conversation... During one of our more in-depth conversations about the differences between East and West, Jesse and I turned to the example of Government. In the West, government is often viewed as interfering. Everything they do is seen a meddling and laws often unnecessary and barriers to our freedom. In the East, things are the opposite, government laws are well respected and generally loved by the people as a way to restore order to the populous. After some time in China we believe that we know why.
Take a queue, the bastion of British society. In the UK, everyone knows how to queue, if you need something, then you must wait behind anyone else who was there first, only after they are served will you get your turn. Now, in China, that isn't the case. If you need something, then push to the front and you will get it before everyone else. If that were to happen in the UK, people would say something, they would react and get annoyed. In China, they do not, the government would have to intervene by placing someone to watch the queue to ensure no queue jumping happens.
Historically in the UK, queue jumping was always stamped out sharply and swiftly, especially in smaller towns you would never do it, as you knew the people you were jumping and didn't want to be known as the arse of the village. When the village grows however, and people are less inclined to spend their day arguing, there is a chance that queue jumping beings to work. For those who jump, they receive the reward of quicker service. Although everyone thinks you are a jerk, the town is now large enough that you probably won't see you again, and if they do they would have forgotten by then.
China has very large towns. Therefore the queue jumping has been happening for a while, and whilst in the beginning it benefited those who did it, now that everyone does it, no one wins and what you get is the sheer chaos you will often witness. How do we get around this – government intervention. Consequently, the government is viewed as a positive force; bringing order to chaos.
Supply vs Demand Another good example of a key difference between China and the West is that of the supply or demand cultures. Within the West, if we get a bad meal at a restaurant, we complain. This usually results in the restaurant providing us with a reduced bill, free food or some other incentive to keep us happy. Within China it's different.
One morning, Jesse and I sat at a table discussing what we wanted to do that day, just having ordered some breakfast with eggs. About 20 minutes later we were told by the owner that they didn't have enough eggs. That's it. Not, “Sorry I don't have enough eggs, but you can have some extra bacon”. No, just “We don't have enough eggs, so one of you will have to do without”. When we then threatened to leave, we were told we cannot, as one meal had been cooked with the available eggs. This is supply side mentality. The supplier had run out of its supply, thus the consumer must suffer. Tough.
The story did have a happy ending, with us suggesting that a trip to a local shop which supplied eggs should be in order, but one suspects that would have not been on the cards if we were Chinese.
Again, one can see the logic to this. In the West, we have a very out-dated view of businesses. If someone in the village doesn't like it, they will tell all their friends and then no-one will eat there. Now, what happens if your village has a very high population density who rarely eat at the same place anyway? With hundreds of restaurants all serving the same food, all within a few square miles, all serving the same millions of consumers, many of which are transient. Now supplier side mentality works.
We can see and example of this ingression into our society at tourist hot-spots and viewpoints. If you open a restaurant near a tourist location such as Stonehenge, you will always have customers, no matter how awful your service or awful your food. In this location, it would be best to maximise profits by employing idiots for minimal wage and providing the cheapest food available. Okay, give your customers the best from those ingredients, but if it fails, so what?
Ahhh, the joy of Tiger Leaping Gorge. It is fabled as the world's deepest gorge and brings tourists to the region from far and wide. Personally, I saw a picture of a friend relaxing with the most awesome background and was green with envy. I had to go.
After an early rise we were packed into our minibus for a two hour ride to the beginning of the gorge. Like any good journey, there was much anticipation as the sides of the valleys got deeper. This was amplified by the lack of decent information we could extract about the gorge. How steep was it, what was the terrain like? Anything but hand-drawn maps were impossible to come by. We wound up mountain pass after mountain pass. We waited.
At the drop off point the view was okay, but no better than many other mountain passes I had been to. What was all the fuss about?
A hole seemed to occupy all the anticipation which was there before. Disappointment must have been evident on my face after some of the most fantastic scenery in Bhutan. I had traveled for over two days for this? Surely not.
As we began to climb we realised that there was a sharp right bend at the beginning. We were not in Tiger Leaping Gorge.
The wait was worthwhile..
Wow.
The single width path slowly wound up the side of the valley, each turn exuding gorge-ous scenery. Pun most definitely intended.
Our group was of mixed ability, but everyone was in high spirits. With the scenery getting steadily better, even to most inexperienced hikers pushed themselves to the next hill to see what beauties would be shown. Refreshment stops were offered regularly by locals, with beer, coke, water and dope (!?) being offered at almost any turn. Sometimes the locals wanted a little more though, which did mar the best viewpoint – as they attempted to claim that walking onto the viewpoint path would require a payment. When we refused the payment (which was around 10 pounds) they got really angry and threatened to throw a stone at one of our group. We weren't impressed – it was time to move on.
That evening we arrived in the hostel at our approximate half way point, about 6 hours after setting off. Here we were to rest for the night, enjoying the company of many random trekkers who had taken the same path. Unfortunately we weren't able to stay at the same place that Michael Palin stayed during the filming of “Himalaya” due to renovation, but we did visit it the next day.
That evening as we relaxed with our running hot water, beer in hand. It felt satisfying, but somewhat strange. During almost all multi-day treks I have ever done, there was no rest bite after a hard day's trek. No beer unless you carry it, certainly no hot water. Don't get me wrong, it was excellent to have these facilities, it just didn't make it feel like you were in any way remote. We were treading the well-trodden path, and whilst the scenery was excellent, it would have been superb if it felt somewhat more remote.
What was excellent though was the company. Or group seemed to gel really quickly and at the end of the first day we already felt like old friends. As we sat in the open courtyard playing cards and eating our evening meal, the lights when out as the generators spluttered and ran out of fuel. For a few special minutes the sky was illuminated with millions of different constellations. Now it felt better.
The next day we continued our trek, splitting up into two different groups. In the faster group we decided to trek like the hare, stopping often to take photos before walking at a fast pace to catch up lost ground. This continued until early afternoon when we arrived at the final stop where the minibus would pick us up. Here we ate and then decided to try and fit in the 300m descent to the water's edge, where the story tells us that the tiger leapt from one edge of the gorge to the other, with the assistance of a rock in the centre. Like all stories, this was probably invented in the late 1980's to attract tourists. Certainly if he had managed to make the leap (which would have required a very athletic tiger) the ascent would have been impossible. Either way, the journey down and up would be fun.
With time running short our party of five began the steep descent before making the bottom within 40 minutes. With our legs already tired from two days' trekking it was now time to make the ascent – and we only had about 70 minutes before out bus left!
To break up the steep incline, we all decided to take one of the more rickety ladders on the way up. Just to add to our trepidation, it was labelled as “Dangerous Ladder”.
With a length of 30m and a slight overhang, it certainly didn't feel as safe as I would have liked, especially due to the high winds which whipped down the valley, but we made it all safe and sound. I was especially proud of one of our group, who had been finding the trek a little hard on the legs and really dug deep to make the ascent as fast as they could. You know who you are – so well done!
With a few minutes to spare at the top, we took a second group photo, with everyone looking rather elated. It was certainly a worthwhile experience, one I would recommend to many.
On the way back, I agreed to spend a couple of days exploring Lijang with someone from the tour. Lijang is a very touristy but also rather nice little town which was the staging point to the Tiger Leaping Gorge.
Over the coming days we explored the city to varying degrees of success.
Initially we decided that a partial hike and cable-car trip up to a glacier would be an ideal idea. We hopped on the local bus as it wound its way over to the base of the mountain. Then we died. Not literally, but almost. It was over 23 pounds for the privilege of setting foot on the mountain, and almost 40 to take the cable car up to the glacier. That's certainly a lot of money in any world, let alone China where accommodation was averaging 3 pounds a night.
It was time for plan B. Off to the bike hire place we went and there soon ensued some cycling fun across to a local village known to be very picturesque. The bikes certainly weren't a carbon fibre Cannondale, but they got us from A to B, even though stopping was slower than we would have liked.
On the way back, we then took in some more scenes, including the “classic photo of China”, before taking in a local courtyard filled with all the large dogs in China. Here we spent the next two hours exchanging various card games as we watched a collie dog slowly drive everyone crazy by hitting a coke bottle just out of reach before barking and whining until someone put it within lead range.
Later that evening, we discovered that both of us knew a mutual friend very well who had studied in the same university. Chances were that despite knowing each other for over three days, we had probably met in a party three years previously! It's certainly a small world.
Before departing we took some time to take in the local Chinglish and explore the less touristy side of the town.
If you were ever likely to contract any bird diseases (H1N5 anyone?) this would be the place. The stench of the killing grounds was potent, although the freshness of the product being offered was not to be questioned. Once the bird was chosen, it's throat was slit before being slung into a bin. Once dispatched, it was then taken out of the bin and placed into a centrifuge device which skimmed all the feathers off. The whole process from death to serving must have taken less than three minutes!
After some good time spent together, it was time to say farewell to my friends in Lijang, with my imminent departure to the Chinese capital, Beijing. The great wall and my American Chinese Historian friend beckoned...
Still in Xi'an with my American friend and Chinese Historian, Jesse, we decided it was time to hit the party scene, or as close as we could get whilst still in China.
Xi'an isn't exactly known for it's hard-core partying, but I did remember from my previous visit that I stayed in a dorm room which had the hardest of party-goers. These hard-core few had been teaching English to Chinese children for the last four months in some of the most rural parts of China. Bored to death of cold showers and desolate drinking venues, they converged on Xi'an for a two week drinking bender. Whilst I stayed in their room, I witnessed their nocturnal lifestyle which included getting in no earlier than 6am. They would know where to go – one step better, they would take us there too!!
Jessie and I then prepared out livers for some hardcore damage and set off into the night with our intrepid guides, rather unsure what the Chinese clubbing experience would hold for us....
On arriving at our first venue, we noticed that the music was rather strange. I believe it was playing a dance remix of “Allright” by the early 1990's pop band East 17. This was not to be a normal night.
Being foreigners, we were quickly thrust onto the dance stage and had been drinking some Bijo (the really nasty, but rather strong rice wine) in preparation. Here, glow-sticks in hands, we danced like frantic loonies. Performing such classics as big fish, little fish, fish in a box, and the Maccarana. I certainly threw in some really dodgy MC Hammer at one point as well. All of this went down far too well, with the crowd of Chinese people (we were the only westerners) lapping it up and even imitating at times.
Then, from the other side of the dance-floor I noticed that Jesse had been pounced on by a very drunk, very 'prosperous' (fat) Chinese man. Who was thrusting him from side to side and trying to take off his shirt – I warned you it was a strange club. Rather worried that in his impaired state he may get into trouble (actually, just really intrigued if I'm honest!) I went over to see what was going on. At this time the Chinese man grabbed me as well and did a sideways rock and roll dance, but far faster and far stronger than the beat. Then he tried to take my shirt off me, which I resisted, resulting in three missing buttons and one ripped shirt. The rest of the evening I would have to spend in a partial state of undress!
After a couple of hours of really bad dancing, it was time to leave and visit the second of the two only half decent clubs in Xi'an (a city of about 9 million people).
On arrival, we were informed that everyone was just about to finish work and we weren't going to be let in – just as other Chinese people were being let in. One [American] member of our party who shall remain nameless, then decided to say in fluent Chinese to the big and rather cheesed off looking bouncer that his mother was also coming off work around now; implying she worked as a prostitute. This went down about as well as you would imagine, with the guy chasing him into the club and hasty apologies being made.
Somehow though, we managed to get into the club and then proceeded towards the second dance-floor, where the DJ's were making heart shapes with their fingers towards the ladies in our group. Here, one [American] member of our group took his drink onto the dance-floor and was told that this was not allowed to do so by one of the five or so police men who are always present in clubs wearing white helmets. After walking back onto the dance-floor a very amusing Benny Hill style chase ensued, with yet more apologies.
When I tried to take a photo of the club, I was told off and decided that it probably wasn't worth causing a third event in the same club!
Overall, it had certainly been an amusing evening, and I was glad that I had had the opportunity to see the inside of some rather strange Chinese clubs. I think our American friend probably shouldn't drink so much Bijo next time though.
Now it was time to be off to Chendu, the home of the Pandas and only a few miles away from the rather recent epicentre of the devastating Chinese earthquake. After priding ourselves with trying all nine of the local speciality foods, including extruded noodles, a strange kebab like thing, poached bread and many other items including organs of various animals, I took with me two Chinese kebabs in bread for the journey.
Unlike before, I didn't really meet anyone of any interest, with many people going to bed at lights out of 9pm, and not really waking up until the departure at 12 midday the next day.
From here I decided to check into a budget hotel, “treating” myself to a single room with decent internet access in an attempt to organise the next month of my holiday. All for 15 pounds a night.
Chendu, located in the heart of the Szechuan province of China, is known for two things. One, it is very laid back. Two, it's got REALLY hot food. I was intending on making use of both of these.
With much planning to do, and the blog entries from Xi'an to write as well as photos to upload, I took my time exploring the town, idiosyncrasies and all. Although like all Chinese towns it was huge, with a population of about 8 million, there were still highlights which weren't to be missed.
Just outside my hotel were locals who were playing all manner of different games. Some included card games I recognised such as “Big two” and a variation on hearts, whilst others played games I'm less familiar with, including Chinese Chess, Marjong and a very strange card game using long, flat cards. Here I would while away the hours, completing my various tasks whilst sipping on a multitude of Chinese green teas.
With the planning out of the way, it was time to move on to some of the highlights of this region. First on the list were the Pandas.
Now, I've been warned about Pandas. The specific warning I was given was that they are “very similar to Koala bears”, who spend their whole life doing sweet expletive all except for eating and sleeping. But let's be honest, they are kinda cute.
The best times to see them “in action”, or at least as much action as a dead tortoise, was in the mornings. This meant an early rise of 6am and a good 90 minute journey to get there. On arrival we were greeted with what we all feared. Lazy, sleeping Pandas. Luckily the morning cattle-prod in the shape of a heap of fresh bamboo was just being delivered. As if by magic, the Pandas sprang into action, reaching top speeds of 2mph and coving literally metres from where they slept to where the food was. Upon reaching their targets, they promptly were too exhausted by the morning's exertion and decided that eating laying down was probably a good idea.
There's a reason creatures become endangered, and despite claims of destroying habitat and hunting for firs, I'm beginning to think that Pandas were just “lazied” to death. The attached museum even admitted that reproduction attempts often ended in failure, so artificial insemination was often used. I'm suspecting that the creatures probably fell asleep whilst on the job!
I must admit though, the smaller ones were even cuter. Probably because of their diet of milk rather than the very fibrous bamboo, they were also far more active. I'm glad that I've seen them, but if they weren't cute and fluffy, then they would be extinct a few times over by now.
Checking out of my hotel and into a local hostel, I met up with some people from my last hostel in Xi'an. Spending the day together, we explored the town and I decided on taking a quick dip into one of the more surreal museums of Chendu.
The Museum in question held almost more Chairman Mao memorabilia than anywhere else in China – however, it was in the lounge of it's collector. The collector, who was in his late 80's, was pretty much a Mao kleptomaniac, with the intention of showing the collection to anyone who would view it. As you would expect of any self respecting kleptomaniac, he had hoarded a lot of stuff. Some of it was good, much of it was tat; all was focused on Mao.
With my knowledge of Chinese failing me, we decided to move on for a night's relaxation in a local Chinese “Tex Mex”. Falling off the wagon never felt so good as I gobbled a huge taco, washing it down with a fresh margarita.
Earlier I mentioned how this region of China is well known for it's spicy food. Well, out of that spicy food, the best known is the “hotpot”. This involves a big central pot of bubbling liquid which is simmering over a hot burner, to which you add various extras including raw meat and other assorted veg. Unfortunately, the word “hot” in the name does not only refer to the temperature of the pot. It mostly refers to the fact that the liquid is about 50% chilli or chilli oil and 50% special peppercorn, which are known to make your mouth numb as you ingest them.
It was undoubtedly the hottest thing I've tried in my travels. For someone who has been to India – that's quite a thing to say! My friends thought so too...
The following day, it was time for another rather strange experience - “Cupping”. Okay, I know what you're thinking, and it isn't that. Get your minds out of the gutter right now.
Whilst you are erasing that image from your brains, I shall help you implant a new one. Imagine if you will, what a westerner cross bread with a pepperoni pizza looks like. Imagine no longer.
This is the after-effect of a cupping session, whereby they place small gold-fish bowls on your back, lighting the air inside to create a strong vacuum. Whilst not really unpleasant, it's hardly the highlight of my life, and the lingering marks which are said to last for weeks are getting quite a few questions – either way, it only cost 80p so was worth the experience!
As this entry is lingering more than most, I'm going to save Tiger Leaping Gorge for next time, but don't worry – stories will be abound, along with some stunning scenery and some silly photos.
I'll leave you with the best piece of Chinglish I've seen in a while, taken from a town where I was trying to extend my Chinese Visa.
With my recent spending spree in Shanghai, came a need to cut costs. So I decided to go ultra-budget and go back to my backpacking routes, electing for a 2 pound a night dorm room when I arrived in Xi'an, one of the old capital cities in China.
Despite the low price, the hostel was fantastic. Even better, it always provides an excellent way to meet new people when you are in a city with no-one you know.
I met by chance a person who was also speaking to the front-desk. After striking up a conversation, I discovered that he was fluent in Chinese and had a passion for Chinese History. Even better – he was planning a hike over a mountain pass which had only been undertaken by a single westerner since 1930. Sign me up!
Whilst preparations were made for our trip, I went off to see the Terracotta warriors. An hour's bumpy bus ride later, I walked wearily over to the three huge hangers housing the warriors. Once there, I was greeted by a whole army of warriors, some of whom were still buried, until a time when our technology allows us to salvage the colour which promptly oxidises within the first week, leading to the discoloured warriors we all know.
As a symbol of China, I find the warriors rather fitting. Individually, they are not that impressive. Whilst they are fairly well made, it's hardly going to win any prizes for best clay model ever. What is impressive is the sheer scale of the army. With somewhere close to 1600 warriors (okay, I'll admit that I wasn't listening to my guide as hard as I could, but instead taking in the view) the scale is hard to capture. I think this is rather fitting for a country like China, who are well renowned across the world for their ability to copy, rather than innovate. Parallels could be made here, but I shall leave any deep and meaningful stuff for later.
On the return walk, there was the usual affair of forced shopping trips, but my Mandarin is now good enough and I have enough stock phrases to quickly dismiss any unwanted sellers. I also saw the largest building to content ratio ever - I am honestly no joking when I say that what was shown in this building could easily fit into three "normal" sized rooms. Quite astounding!
Upon returning to the hostel, it was time to hit the streets of Xi'an before my imminent departure to the mountain pass. With one of the people from the dorm, we ventured off into the streets with the challenge of finding a full meal and a beer for under a pound. It's an exciting game, one which hones your ability to find a good bargain. With the evening drawing to a close, we took in some of the local sights before retiring to the bar for a few beers, a game of free pool and a game of “dodge the Bijo” (Bijo is a local spirit of about 50% alcohol, which tastes like petrol mixed with nail varnish remover, and costs about 70p a bottle. It's vile, but serves a good role to get one drunk.)
After a late start the next day, my new American friend and I were off to “Treasure Chicken”, a local city of a few million, about 5 hours bus journey away from Xi'an. Here we were to spend the night before leaving early to get to our destination. On the way to Treasure Chicken, we decided to take in a local museum and a tomb.
Pushing through the throngs of tourists in the dense fog, we soon realised that there wasn't a great deal to see at the top. Unfortunately, we had missed the last bus of the day to the bottom of the mountain, and with a 10km trek ahead of us in the cold, were rather cheesed off. Especially as the last bus went at 3pm!?
Luckily our white faces and the generosity of a local driver saved us from the trek after only a few hundred metres and we soon arrived in the museum.
Here we found many gems which were given more than adequate commentary by Jesse (my American friend). My knowledge of China was expanding, fast. China knows how to do history, and with a good five thousand years of the stuff, they kick even the European's ass. Whilst we were playing with rocks and flint, they had already mastered many of the things the Western world was not to encounter for another few thousand years. Consequently, the artefacts on display were pretty impressive, made even more so by the fact they were about a thousand years older than any European equivalent.
In an effort to ensure that the information was not flowing in just one direction, I attempted to fill in Jesse with any science or primitive skills I was aware of. Usually this was simply kept to what kind of elements or chemistry happened behind various preparation methods, but sometimes included items such as flint-napping and other survival techniques.
Arriving in Treasure Chicken rather late, we checked into the nearest hotel and decided to watch some episodes of the British comedy, “Blackadder” on my laptop after failing to find any bars.
With another whole day of travel ahead of us, we headed off early to ensure a timely arrival with our guide. The guide had been arranged on the recommendation of the previous westerner to take the mountain pass, and was known as the local historian; an expert on the pass and its role in history.
Before the departure from Treasure Chicken, we had to take in at least a few sights though – including what was supposed to be one of the best collections of bronze artefacts. I'll be honest here, I never really enjoy the museums who follow the item behind glass formula. However, I've never had someone as informative as Jesse by my side, so often a simple jug would spark a twenty minute conversation on how various aspects of the Chinese dynasty evolved.
Thinking that the rest of our journey would be rather remote and that food may be primitive, we decided to eat at a local duck restaurant, which was almost certainly the best in town. Sitting there, backpacks in tow, we certainly didn't fit in. One would even suspect given the rather personal service we were given, that they hadn't seen a foreigner before. Actually, I'd be pretty certain.
It was time to leave.
Bus followed bus, with roads climbing and descending over endless valleys. Finally we arrived in our destination, much confusing the locals on the bus, who were vexed as to why the foreigners, who were on the bus to a tiny town, would not want to go to the tiny town, but instead to the small village in the middle of nowhere.
[Yes, the pose was taking the mick...]
Here we met our guide and were treated to a hearty reception. With most of the village turning out to see what was going on, we were ushered around, finally resting in the local communist party HQ to see a spring festival dance by the local ladies.
Later that evening, we realised that our guide had warned the local government of our arrival. The greeting party were on their way...
[They were camera shy...]
As the very fancy 4*4 Toyota cruised up to the front door of the village house, we realised this must be a government official. Everyone else in the village was lucky if they had a car, let alone one I couldn't really afford back in the UK! In the dark dust of the evening, three mysterious figures slowly emerged from the vehicle. They were from the local Communist party, and some representatives of the tourist office for the regional head town, about 40 minute's drive away. With one interpreter, the two men proudly stated their names and titles, which could be roughly translated as the vice head of the city (of about 600,000) and the head of tourism.
It was clear that western tourists didn't usually make the two day trek to get here.
Conversation revolved around the usual China items, including jobs, money (including salary) and how brilliant China is. In one rather loaded question, we were asked what we thought of China's role in the world and how it was changing. Thinking fast, I came up with the example of the recent Chinese space mission which is something the Chinese have evident pleasure in recalling. Using this as an example of how China are moving forward as one of the real global powers, I elaborated and tried to show that we were not ignorant hippies. This certainly went down well, as did Jesse's knowledge of their history and culture.
The following day we arose early to begin our trek over the mountain pass. With an estimated six hours for the trek, the pace was slow, but relentless. I was especially amused by the guide's choice of attire: formal shoes and a leather jacket. He was equally amused by mine, which he claimed would be far to thin and I would be too cold. I don't think he's seen a modern jacket before. After a bit of walking though, we were both too hot!
Taking in the (limited) scenery on the way, which was mostly obscured by fog, we slowly wound up the route of the mountain, listening to stories about the history of the pass. Just before the top of the pass we stopped – it seems the Chinese prefer to stop at the bottom of a steep bit, not at the top. Here we ate some more Chinese snacks, before continuing to the top and resting briefly in the sun.
On our steady descent, we noted there were many mines in the local area. It turns out that the area not only mines, but actually refines about 30% of the world's Zinc. This has made the local area very rich in Chinese terms.
On completing our descent, we were again contacted by the government officials, who took us to a local ladies' house for tea and some snacks. Cigarettes were also liberally offered. The concept of being a “non-smoker” was certainly viewed unfavourably – if you are to 'fit in' to your Chinese hosts, taking up smoking may be a good idea.
From here we were taken on a whirlwind tour of the local area, with various “items of dubious interest” being pointed out so we didn't miss them. They were very proud of their town, but may have been accused of trying a little too hard to create items of interest. Of particular amusement was a sign in Chinese written on the mountain pass. It wasn't written on the old road, but next to the new road which was less than 10 years old. So, you're pointing out a sign written in the old style of Chinese, which was written in the last ten years? Nice.
The driver then drove us into the fanciest hotel in town, which happened to be owned by the government. Unfortunately, it cost about 40 pounds a night – with both Jesse and I looking at each other in bemusement, we didn't say anything, but our hosts were very proud when they said we need only pay 17 pounds – still enough to keep us going for over 20 nights in our previous accommodation! With our four hosts surrounding us, we weren't going to say a word and simply paid with a smile.
Following a very quick shower, it was time to eat the formal dinner, for which we had our own private room.
I'd been warned by many people, and two separate guide-books, that China has quite a few customs which are usually dispensed with in everyday life, but are often used in the setting of a formal dinner. Thinking that I would never encounter such a session, I must admit to paying little attention.
First we were greeted by our host, with each of us sitting on either side of the most important person in the room, and an interpreter sitting opposite. Here we received our sweet wine, which was poured in volumes suggesting that it was a spirit (one bottle wasn't even finished by over 7 people). After which time a toast was made to each person in turn by the head-man. However, instead of simply clinking glasses, a more involved affair was called for, whereby the glass was offered to the intended victim, only to be lowered at the last minute. Apparently, the place where the glass was eventually “clinked” signifies the relative standing of the two parties. For example, if you clinked glasses with your boss, he would allow you to make contact with your glass being lower. Given the nature of our host, we decided that we go as low as possible for every person. This repeated every time you wished to take a drink, as you cannot drink without toasting someone elses' glass.
As the meal developed, more and more dishes adorned the central turn-wheel (Lazy Susan for us Brits), each one getting steadily spicier. With only two mouthfuls of food ingested, our hosts insisted that we use a knife and fork – probably more to show off that they had such items, than due to our skills – Jesse had been using one for over three years and was probably better than they were!
With the meal drawing to a close and the table still overflowing with uneaten food, we left the comfort of our private room and were quickly whisked on a personal tour of the town – on the car-driven imitation train no less. With our personal English-speaking guide, we learned of the significance of new structures and then stopped in the prime viewing point for the town's highlight; the tallest fountain in Asia.
Surrounded by little twinkling lights on the hills which were added to imitate the stars that the city smog and lights obscured, we stood on the bridge and awaited the display.
The fountain is reported at making over 180m at full height, and it certainly was higher than I was expecting. I'll have to admit that it was pretty impressive. However, there was a strange feeling when I thought back to our guide who was living in his small house, unwilling to accept even 90p for a night's stay. It seemed like the money could have been put to so much better use, rather than imitating Las Vegas.
[Comments may be exaggerated given the presence of many townspeople]
My concentration soon shifted onto my next sight – we were presented with a very similar event to the night before, with dancing ladies all in a large ring and a good few hundred lookers-on. After smiling and laughing quite a lot, I think they got the idea that we wanted to have a go (Jesse didn't, but I'll have to admit that I certainly did!) Being whisked to the front, we then got one professional dancer each, and tried to strut our stuff. Luckily the dances follow a simple formula: It starts slow and gets faster, all the time doing the same set of motions. This was fine for the second dance, as the motions were easy, however the first and third dance were both rather difficult, and involved kicking, twisting and quick rotations whilst walking in the circle. All of this with a few hundred on-lookers.
After earning quite a lot of respect for giving it a go, and doing our respective nations proud, it was time to retire for the evening – smuggling in a few bottles of beer to end a surprisingly hectic night. First though, our hosts had other ideas.
After just finishing the dancing, we were very expertly ambushed by a local journalist. With both him and a different interpreter from the crowd following us back to our hotel room, we were quizzed on what we though of China and also what we thought of the town.
Throwing in some speak about the electrolysis methods they were using to purify zinc being surprisingly advanced, we answered question after question on items we had no idea about. “So then, what do you think of the future prospects of the town [that you've only just seen for less than three hours] is?”, “Is there any way you can assist us in getting investment into the town?” I think that Jesse had been hyping up my role in my previous job a little bit more than he let on, as I looked at him in a “what the...” way.
Either way, I'm looking forward to the article, which apparently will include some of our quotes and pictures! I'll be sure to post it when it arrives.
The following morning it was time to depart. On our way out, we took in a nice little temple which was sufficiently off the beaten track and met the author of some local historian books who was kind enough to sign a few copies and provide various print-outs of photos taken with him. A few gems to make the otherwise dull 14 hour rushed bus journey worthwhile.
Next time, it's off to Chengdu to see some fluffy Pandas, frazzle our taste-buds on special peppercorns and then Tiger Leaping Gorge – the deepest gorge in the world apparently!
