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From Beijing to Yichang - a travelogue By Kamouraskan and with a little help from Lariel Our thanks to our group members, the Bardic Circle, especially Emeka and Emily, all of whom helped to shape this. However, they are not responsible for any of the opinions expressed. In fact, let's make this clear. In the following ramble, we will proceed to make snap value judgements on a country of over one billion people. These generalisations will possibly exclude the several dozen identifiable minority groups within this country and all will be based on serious prejudices, cultural biases and our short experiences of travelling on an almost entirely guided tour. That said, we really did enjoy the trip. That may not always be obvious from this account. Particularly as we're telling this story chronologically, based on our notes, and as the best of the trip took place near the end, when we had almost lost hope of seeing the greatness of New and Old China. Got that? If so, let's begin… This article is copyright to the authors December 2007.

My lovely wife and I are not really tour people. We like making our own bookings, doing the research on a variety of websites and searching out oddities. But China is not yet a place for the novice, without contacts, to explore, and the Chinese government doesn't seem in favour of wandering about. They prefer to have, in hand, detailed itineraries with each location and stop, weeks in advance. So going as part of a tour group seemed necessary if we were to experience China in any way at all.

Why we were going in the first place had its roots in events exactly one year before.

We got married.

Married, in a foreign land, in a week of celebrations that were a dream come true. We vowed that for each of our subsequent anniversaries we would also travel. Problem was, what could possibly equal the wedding of our dreams? China seemed a perfect alternative.

So, as always, we headed for the travel agencies, the library and the computer.

First thing we learned was that most China packages are the same. The Chinese government has worked out to the kilometre where they prefer tourists to go, what tour operators they will work with and whom they will hire. There are precious few variables concerning the length of the trip, the dozen cities you might be allowed to visit, the roads you will travel on and the restaurants you will eat in. Taking those small variances into consideration, the cost of a tours are about the same, mainly depending on how much four star accommodation you choose.

We chose Voyage Jules Verne because Lariel had enjoyed their Egypt package and felt they had the best guides. We didn't realise, rather stupidly I suppose, that the only guides in China were contractors approved by the Chinese Travel Service. Though that is not to say they were not excellent at their jobs; just that we might have gotten the same people had we gone on another package. Our twelve-day trip was pretty well the standard tour. The only major variances being that along with Beijing, the great Wall, Xi'an and the Terracotta Warriors, we opted for the five day Yangtze River Tour and we did not go to Shanghai or Hong Kong.

Entry Requirements

To enter China requires a special visa, the applications are available through the tour company, which should be completed and sent in (with photos) several weeks before the trip. If you're going solo, you will need to contact the Embassy and make the arrangements yourself.

Money Money Money

So how much does the trip cost? There are variables, like high or low season. We're talking northern hemisphere so the high season is June- August, with prices dropping from September and continuing to drop for each month after that. Weather is about the same as middle US/southern Canada/middle England. Hot in the summer with the possibility of snow in the winter.

Generally, the base cost, no-frills trip will cost about £100/$200 a day. This amount should include everything: all meals, including one drink per meal, participation on all tours and entrance to all sites, (not including the few excursions added on as 'optional') all transport/flights/accommodations and the services of a local guide. Once you break it down to plane fares, room costs, meals, a dozen or more sites with a variety of entrance costs, it's not a bad deal for what for most people is a trip of a lifetime.

Budgeting the Extras

More importantly, here's what isn't paid for.

Despite what the brochures say ('tipping is frowned upon by the government') you are expected to tip your guides, your baggage handler and ship's crew in a lump sum as you leave them. This is not much. A normal tip for a couple of day's assistance is about 50 Yuan, or about £3. (For simplicities sake, I'm counting everything in Yuan ((also known as RMB)) and pounds. At this time, one pound is worth about $2 US so just double or divide in half.)

So figure you'll need at most a couple of pounds each day for tips. Going for 14 days, figure £30, maybe £40 tops. Like more than one drink at dinner? Well, you'll be paying the exaggerated tourist prices for much of that Tsing Tao beer and it'll cost you between £1-2 for a litre bottle. Shots and mixed drinks are twice that each. Then there are the optional trips, usually costing about £6 -10 each. Finally, gifts and souvenirs. If you're happy hitting the stalls in the markets, you can get a bargain or you might be ripped off. If you buy in the many factories you'll be given tours of, or buy from the hotel shop, you will pay ten times more and KNOW you've been ripped off.

If you want access to the internet, stamps for letters, anything else; include that in the budget as well.

If you plan to buy jade or silk at an established dealer, prepare to not make a huge bargain. Yes, they are unique and a great memory, but only about half what they might cost at home. So if that's what you plan to get, bring more money. Otherwise, we got by with spending about £20 a day. We drank, we paid our share of tips, we bought a whole suitcase full of tat for presents and souvenirs and we managed to go on the optional trips that interested us.

Getting Your Money

There are exchange counters in all the major hotels, the airports, on the ship and major foreign banks are everywhere (not that there is much free time to visit a bank). A better rate is given for travellers' cheques, so they are usually the best way to go. All counters will deal with dollars and pounds and most will deal with Canadian travellers cheques as well as other obscure currencies.

Yes, the rate is not great and you are warned, as you are in most controlled countries, not to exchange currency in the street. You probably can, but there is counterfeit Yuan in China, it is against the law, and if you're so cool that you can beat both those problems, then why the heck would you be going on a tour?

Them's the facts, now on with the ride.

Day One

'Depart from Heathrow to Beijing with Air China'

The trip started off with bad portents, despite the early organisation. We managed to get seven days worth of clothing (along with a prayer that there would be cheap laundry service half way through the trip) and still left lots of empty space for potential purchases. It seemed very strange to not have our usual file on restaurants and other research for a place we were visiting. Was it the change in routine or the fear of stepping into the unknown? I can't be sure.

The only time we went online for anything after booking the trip, was to find cheap parking at Heathrow. Q-Park was half the price of the regulars, but after seeing a Crime Watch report on airport parking, especially the segment that showed the cars not only being driven around without their owners knowledge, but involved in smash-up bank robberies, we were noting the mileage before we handed over the keys.

We were all ready to leave with hours to spare (I hoped to drop in at one of the Homes I'd worked in) when we discovered the pump on the tropical fish tank had died. Not wanting the same to happen to her precious fishies, Lariel went off on an emergency rescue mission that ate up the spare hours. But we were still fine. At that point.

Surprise. Finding the parking and getting a ride to the airport took longer than we had planned on, so we arrived at check-in with our planned four hours whittled down to less than two hours before flight time. We spent a worried further hour in line, and then more waiting at the check-in as the computers had crashed. There was no sign of anyone from Jules Verne, or our special China Visas. Our fact pages from the company told us that if there were 16 or more on the trip, we would be accompanied on the flight by a guide. The ticket desk gave us a copy of the group visa. It had only ten names. But, ah! There was a second sheet with three more and oh, CRAP. We're going to be a group of 13 for this whole trip in a foreign country with multiple airplane flights and I have triskaidekaphobia. Suddenly getting on the plane does not seem like such a great idea.

Nevertheless, I pasted on a smile and get through five different stages of security. Yes, Britain and the US have a 100 million tons of dope getting in every day, but thank God they are completely sure that I don't have access to deadly tweezers or a lit fuse dangling from the back of my shoes.

So we board the plane without any contact from Jules Verne or any sign of our all-important visas. Something that doesn't worry me because at least we're eventually rushed on and we are actually getting on the plane to China, and I assume everything will be resolved at the other end. Showing how different we are, Lariel is far more worried about getting on the plane and heading to China and not having a visa at the other end, something she repeats SEVERAL times during the long flight.

We are travelling to Beijing on Air China, a name that will forever give me indigestion. WORST meals on an airline, ever. This is an eleven-hour flight, and there's only one complete dinner, only one film, four miniscule portions of water through the whole trip and cramped legroom. Also, they would show the same film going to and coming back, a sin in airline travel if I've ever known one. It was "In The Land of Women" and I was forced to examine Meg Ryan's botched plastic surgery from all too many angles. They also bought "Juste Pour Rire" which makes me very happy that people in Montreal are doing well, but why should I suffer?

The news programs give me the first clues about the New China. The report is about sequels and how financially successful they are. They compare apples and oranges like Shrek, Harry Potter, and a Chinese production that 'intelligently filmed its sequels simultaneously'. Well, yes, maybe like say Lord of the Rings, but comparing the rest is like saying trees and skyscrapers are the same because they are tall. It may sound picky, but it was odd that the piece was completely concerned with one aspect of how the film was made and its success, rather than its creative genesis. Ah, the hell with it. We're landing in China!!!

Day Two

'Arrive at Beijing Capital Airport. After clearing Customs and Immigration you will be met by the China International Travel Service representative and taken to the Dong Fang Hotel. Dinner at the hotel'

We land in Beijing airport at 1:30 in the afternoon after what seems like years of living on the aircraft and there is no sign of help from Jules Verne, nor any sign of the Group Visa Desk that we were told to meet at. Lariel is not happy. I'm carrying our Jules Verne packet as ostentatiously as possible and sure enough I spot someone else doing the same. Ah! It's an icebreaker exercise! Here I thought the company was being negligent.

Can 13 strangers manage to find each other in a foreign airport, suffering severe jetlag and far more debilitating, culture shock, and without any assistance, pass though customs in the exact sequential order required by the list on the visa? And the answer is yes, and about an hour later we have bags and a guide shows up and leads us to a minibus. We're here. We're here!

I will not mention our individual guides' names. There were several, and all except our wonderful Xi'an guide would ask us to call them by very English names. Each was a private contractor approved by the government and what they may or may not have told us and the impressions we took away might cause trouble if this is ever read by anyone outside of friends and family. If this sounds like paranoia, you haven't been to China yet.

Our guide promised us a 15 minute ride which grew to about an hour as we were bogged down in traffic. Who cares, we're bogged down in traffic, but its Beijing traffic! The guide explains that scooters were banned in Beijing to fight pollution, and as the sun disappeared into a grey haze, we could see how effective it was. The haze we were told was 'smoke' from all the wonderful industry and the 'many, many cars'. Smog, apparently, can be seen as a positive thing. Possibly it smells like victory in the morning, too.

We passed through several tollgates that we later found were effective in reducing the use of cars to travel any major distance. If it costs less to travel by public transport than to pay for the toll gates in between, then the car is not the breakout in personal freedom that it might be, and who was I to think this wasn't a coincidence?

We arrive at the Dong Fang (no jokes, please) Hotel for our three nights stay. Dinner will be in the hotel restaurant and we are warned not to drink the water from the taps or use it to brush teeth etc. From the heights of room 908 (comprising both Chinese lucky numbers 9+8 so that might combat the terrible 13 of our group) we can see there actually is a blue sky up there. Despite booking a double, we have single beds and I am pretty pissed off about that, but figure that as long as we have a double by the time our anniversary rolls about, we can manage. Jet lag and a variety of other forms of exhaustion drive us into them anyways.

We wake up in time for the first of many meals that are to challenge our assumption that we cannot eat only Chinese food for two weeks. Like all of the main meals for the trip, we are sat at circular tables with a 'lazy-susan' covering it, and dishes are brought in one at a time for us to sample, and wonder at. It's our first chance since the airport to chat and assess the various people who will be sharing our lives for the next while, and it appears to be a good group. Despite that, we decided to turn down the first optional group trip out on the town (and the additional fee).

Afterwards, I managed to buy a map of Beijing and convince Lariel to venture four blocks beyond the hotel. We pass several small markets and restaurants, most of which had staff that run out to greet us and try to not-so-gently get us into their establishment. There seemed to be only one or two dim sodium lights per city block, and this gave an even greater sense of unreality to the scene. Construction for the Olympics was everywhere, much ofit working away at all hours in the dim light. We reach Lariel's comfort zone of distance, and we head back to the Dong Fang for some sleep. I watch the TV, amazed at the all of the expensive advertising on all of the state channels, which are broken up occasionally by rather inexpensive programming.

As well, the TV is filled with CGI ads promoting the glories of construction. While music swells, buildings rise higher and higher with a skyline doubling, trebling in density. Like pollution, building congestion is another sign of success.

There is also Asian Home Box Office and BBC World, which is a comfort before we try to sleep. The bed is one of those that you can hit with your fist and joyfully say as you cradle a broken hand, "now THAT'S a hard bed!" Otherwise, the room's not bad. There's TV, a kettle, a bath, bottled water and few drinks and a beer in the fridge that costs far too much. I discover that this particular nanny state doesn't give a damn what you do as long as it doesn't challenge the leadership and there are no bans on smoking anywhere, though they have a small card requesting no smoking in the actual beds. I sit down in the foyer with a newspaper and enjoy my first cigarette in years in a public place, before returning to snuggle.

We wake every half hour, it seems, until I move to her bed for some more cuddling and we finally get a few hours of sleep. With a 7:00AM breakfast call I finally decide to get up at 6 and have a wonderful if cramped bath.

Day 3
'A full day of sightseeing with visits to Tian an Men Square, the Forbidden City, and the Summer Palace'

This time it looks as though it is really overcast. We pour boiling water over our toothbrushes and get ready to meet our group and the day. We are 5 couples, two friends and our unofficial leader is travelling alone. She politely denies sleeping well as it's clear she's the only one to do so.

Breakfast is buffet western style and I am overjoyed to find that we've stumbled onto one of my few fantasies that doesn't involve Lariel and lots of privacy. Ever since I worked at a hotel in the Canadian Rockies, I have dreamed of having a breakfast like this every day. Huge tureens filled to the brim over sterno cans with every sort of breakfast food possible. Lariel suggests it could be a goal for my retirement, in our chateau, of course, leaving the tons of leftovers each morning for the peasants in the village. I heap up the ham, sausage, bacon and drape a few eggs and toast for colour with some juice and ask for multiple refills of not so great coffee. In fact, throughout the trip, I was amazed at how successful our hosts could be at duplicating Western needs and never seem to get the coffee right.

Today on the bus and in Tiananmen Square we talk politics. I feel slightly guilty, as I've been in several somewhat dictatorial regimes and said barely a word against my hosts. Lariel worries that these discussions in the open air are probably not a good idea and that she may be finding herself going home alone. I counter that it's that sort of comment that could get HER locked up. Despite the Duelling Paranoiacs, we are all impressed with Beijing, but surprised and disappointed in other aspects of the place.
Yes, every spot on the tourist run is gorgeous. There are landscapers busily working on every place that hasn't met perfection just yet, and the Square itself is clearly readying itself for many mass performances and outdoor shows. It is supposed to be the largest public square in the world, but with all the renovation and stages under construction, the expanse is lost. Swarms of tourists, like pigeons, waft from corner to corner and kites swirl high above. Nevertheless, we still find ourselves thinking about the blood on the stones.

It is hard not to make judgements. On the trip here, we saw billboards and advertisements everywhere. The glamour photos of half or completely undressed women on public signs might make Britney Spears gulp. The big cosmetic firms have gone with the 'yes, she's Oriental, but oh, so western' type of model. Personally, I figure the very least a communist dictatorship should provide is a bit less objectification of women, and I note that I've only seen one female driving out of hundreds of commercial vehicles.

But then I hadn't discovered that they didn't have universal healthcare or even free education past junior levels. That is a real shock. That and all the Jane-Finch corridors tenements, lined up one after another. We pass hundreds of cranes building even more 10+ storey high-rise apartments, and our guides tell us how exciting it is for the people who are moved from their country homes or city shacks to one of these glorious modern towers. We also pass hundreds of rotting similar buildings that look like the worst tenements I've seen in any city. No balconies, boarded up windows and concrete and steel about to plummet to the ground. Oh no, those are the 'old buildings.' 'How old?' 'Oh the sixties, some of them.'

Well, that's not really old. They look like hell and the new ones seem to be exactly the same and only clean because they're fresh. I have to wonder how long the romance of new and big will last, but it seems that China is in the grip of 'Greed is Good' and Ronald Reagan would make the perfect president. Or at least the head of one of the many Amway headquarters we've seen.
There are more new billionaires in China than any country on earth, they boast. Well, no wonder with all the advantages: third world wages, no unions, no pensions, no Medicare, no workman's compensation, no on the job training, no Injury Lawyers-4-U; they must be making money hand over stump.

I tell myself to stop all this crap. We're in CHINA! Stop worrying about the New China and start appreciating the old. And what better place to start than the Forbidden City?

Originally, Beijing was divided into five sections. There are the original four cities that the regular people lived in, and the Emperor's City in the centre, reached by crossing a moat and entering one of the four gates. Then, like any good fortress or castle, there are various open courtyards and then another defensive wall and gate. The open spaces are for cutting down the opponents who breach the previous defences, or for allowing the defenders to withdraw to another position of strength.

Once we finally penetrate into the actual maze of the Forbidden City, we are impressed by the amazingly beautiful architecture. The rooves alone are worth a thousand photos and like all the rest of the mob, we click away for a few hours. It's hard to see anything lower than the rooves because of the crowds and at all times you are surrounded by vendors of all ages pressing T-shirts, watches and other bumpf on you.

Despite my earlier resolution, I am definitely feeling the Kamakura Syndrome as we walk through the Forbidden City. This is what I call the sensation I first got while visiting the Great Buddha in Japan. What had once been a sacred place, a site where I could have been killed for venturing onto only years before, had become a tourist trap, and you could look out through the Buddha's eyes and buy ice cream at his feet. Nothing will wash away the awe created by hundreds of years of worship in a sacred place like filling the temple with moneychangers and letting loose a million screaming tourists.

So while our guide is explaining that the water creatures painted on the base of the roofs are to prevent fire, I'm thinking that to rediscover my sense of presence for this place, I may have to wait until I get home and rent The Last Emperor. Which is tremendously unfair, considering how much we love Venice, another city overwhelmed by tourists. We visit Venice during the off-season, or we stay on the less travelled islands during the high season. There probably is a way to see these amazing sites in China, but our tour and time are not allowing it. I think that I should be bemoaning the lost opportunity rather than making criticisms of this place.

Tea Ceremony

Throughout this trip, we are taken on the familiar-to-most-tour-groups, The Factory Tour. These are the obligatory trips to a merchandising centre under the guise of teaching you a native craft, which quickly turns into a hard sell of the product at inflated prices. The exception to the rule is our trip to the teahouse. It is similar in many respects, except that this time we are both charmed and willing to buy, something the Chinese Information Bureau might take note of.

In my reading, I have discovered that the Chinese regard the standard black tea of Britain to be simply the cast off dregs of their celestial green tea, which we are developing a taste for. As much as I am finding it hard to get a decent cup of coffee, there doesn't seem to be a lot of choice in tea either. I've read that the Brits are of course behind it. They began to complain about the costs of buying tea in China and decided to plant it themselves on their own property. Their 'own' property being the sub-continent of India. Oh and other odd facts, with the light weight of the tea leaves making ballast a problem, Chinese porcelain was also shipped out, forever linking the word China with porcelain and especially with the brewing of tea. The Chinese usually make do with traditional clay pottery.

It is also amusing that as we sit and learn the beauty of the tea ceremony, that most of the tea we have seen the natives drink, has been in cheap hot water flasks. A few leaves in a strainer suffices for them, but we sit at our table and watch carefully as our instructress and her assistant perform their well rehearsed magic act. We are shown the various teas and boiling water is poured with dexterity onto a dozen objects. Glorious dried tea flowers are made to bloom and we sample half a dozen flavours. One off note is struck when she soaks a small clay man who obligingly sprays the table from his tiny penis. All too soon the lesson is over and we are ushered into the shop. This time we cannot resist buying the tea flowers for ourselves and to give out as gifts, and find that having spent above a certain amount, the little man and his penis are free. Now the problem arises of which 'friend' to give this delightful gift to.

That afternoon we are bussed to The Summer Palace or as the 'notorious' Empress Dowager Cixi named it, the Garden of Cultivated Harmony. The guides are eager to describe how the nation's money for building a new fleet had been taken to build all of this excess, but it is hard to dispute the beauty of the place. As a public park, it might be a wonderful place to wander, and we all enjoy the fanciful Dragon Boats that ferry us across the lake, but by now I am a self-hating tourist and I am still wishing that I could have one hour with a few hundred thousand less people to properly appreciate the place.

The Evening meal is at a local restaurant and afterwards we are taken to the Peking Opera. After a look at the exquisite costumes, I buy a guidebook for my daughter, the theatre graduate. The meal was, as usual in Beijing, excellent, but the show afterwards is harder on our western palates. They open with what is no doubt a classic aperitif of a playlet, but one that goes over like a lead won ton to the western audience. The shrill atonal music and singing, along with the unfamiliar miming of actions, drives even our kindly group to comments under the breath. Lariel particularly feels for one member of the orchestra. They play their traditional instruments, and she is convinced the cymbal player is in some kind of personal hell. There is what I imagine is a comic stock character but he's too little, too late. The next performance is more accessible, especially as it is based about the more familiar character of the Monkey King. As well, there are more than a dozen performers in gorgeous costumes, fighting, rolling, kicking cross the stage and it removes the memories of the first act.

As we ride back it's still raining. The slick streets dimly reflect the street signs. The pictures we have in our heads of thousands of bicycles dominating the streets are forever altered. The congested, multiple laned motor traffic crawls alongside a handful of bikes in their separate lane. One bicyclist carries an umbrella in one hand, steering awkwardly with the other but still moving faster than our bus mired in the night time Beijing boulevards. By the time we get home, it's too late for a walk or an attempt by me to check out the subway system. But tomorrow is the Great Wall, and the anticipation burns underneath the exhaustion. Our schedule says we have a 7:00AM wake up, so we head gratefully to our damned single beds.

Day 4

'Today's excursions include the Great Wall, the Sacred Way and Ming Tombs with lunch en route'

Another great breakfast with the group, and after abortive attempts to get to the lobby by either of the two crowded elevators, about six of us make for the stairs, chatting all the way down the flights. We've found a rhythm as a group and we find ourselves taking the same seats in the minibus. This is one of the big days, the days you want to remember. The Great Wall of China.

There are several walls. They were built and rebuilt over a period of 1,000 years and then restored in the modern era. The one that you see most often on the television and in pictures is a wide, flat section used mainly for celebrities and almost entirely restored for several miles. The one we are headed for is the Badaling section, known as the 'steep wall', with many of the original 15th century elements built by the first emperor, Qin, the guy with the Terracotta soldiers guarding his tomb. I've read that some communities have begun rebuilding sections near their towns to draw tourists, so the image of a continuous wall 6,000 kilometres long dies a little death.

As we head out of Beijing, I am still amazed at the miles of highrise apartments. The highways seem quite new and our guide responds that most have been built since 1997. 'Before then the streets were only 7 metres wide.' They are now almost 10 times that size and so the newness of the buildings on at least one side of the freeways and ring roads makes sense. These are Haussmann Boulevards, and like those in Paris, what had happened to the people whose houses were torn down?

The new roads are a bit bumpy, and the traffic is not to be believed. Once again, the few places that are not beautifully landscaped have crews working on them or are deliberately obscured by billboards. There are only the most fragmentary glimpses of the older architecture. The old is being so quickly removed by the new, and I have to hope we are not the only ones mourning the loss.

After 20 minutes, we are finally getting to the edge of the smog canopy of Beijing and see a bit of blue sky on the horizon for the first time in days, and there is a murmur of delight from all in the bus.

Our guide tells us he's been doing this for 12 years. He's clearly proud of his city but the buzz on the microphone he uses means his words fade in and out. Lariel asks deaf old me silly questions like 'did he just say that cars cost 57 Yuan?'(It's more like 5700 Yuan.) Occasionally a few complete sections of his monologue get through, including the fact we are passing Shaolin monastery and something about Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee, when a far more dire announcement is made. 'No toilets from here in!' No, I just imagined that, didn't I?

We are completely stuck in a jam now. We don't move for more than 45 minutes but we are still hopeful as we can see the mountains and HELL, we can see the horizon without smog or buildings! 30 minutes and maybe a mile later Lariel and the rest are tired of waving at the cars in the next lanes. Being a curiosity to natives is not sufficient entertainment when we know that our time on this trip is draining away. Two and a half hours and we're just barely out of Beijing. Our guide asks us for a choice of what we should cut from the trip, but apparently the visit to the Jade Factory is still on, possibly for commercial reasons and we agree when told it is the last decent toilet stop on the itinerary.

The Jade 'Factory' is a classic Factory Tour. They go like this. We would be brought to a large room where only a few workers (from 2-8) would be working on a traditional product (silk, jade carving, imitation terracotta warriors) implying they were the whole workforce despite their production clearly being less than a thousandth of the stock on hand. This implied to our suspicious western minds that somewhere behind some door we would never see, there was either a huge drum pounding while at least ten thousand small children with bleeding hands sweated under a whip, or the product was being produced from the anus of a large alien insect.

Back on earth, however, we would be shown how to tell the difference between their product and the cheap rip-offs we might be tempted to buy in the markets if we were foreigners and ignorant. With the jade we were shown the distinctive ring it made when struck (something I'm not likely to do with expensive jewellery,) or the lack cloudiness and appearance of bubbles which glass or plastic might have.

Then we would be brought into a series of showrooms filled with glorious and very expensive goods while being shadowed at every step by young women who would pounce as soon as we glanced at any item. Being British/Canadian, we found the attention and the prices quite off-putting, and I assume our group was a great disappointment to our guide. Lariel and I did buy something for my daughter, but otherwise we were all far more interested in getting on our way to the Great Wall.

The Ming Tombs are a side trip, but it is sunny and they do have a feel for their importance. There is an energy and a sense of history here. This is the first place either of us felt that we were in the China we came to see, and even the hordes of tourists laughing and calling through the tomb do not seem to affect its aura. We all enjoy the stroll in the sunshine along the Sacred Way and wander about free of hawkers through the statues.

We are finally taken to one of the dreaded 'Friendship Stores' we have been warned about, ostensibly for lunch. They're much cheaper than the so-called factories, but once again, our group disappoints our guide and the staff by not buying anything, but I am carefully noting the prices to have some basis for future haggling. Working in a strange currency and trying to barter for objects that are almost always without price stickers, requires some sort of base price. So even if each of us has been told the Friendship Stores are overpriced, I spend the time memorising the costs of everything. Another excellent banquet lunch with several beers and we congratulate each other as we think we're beginning to know what at least half the food we're eating is. Then back to the bus. And the traffic. But then, a sentence I've never heard before. "The Great Wall is over there." And yes, there on the hillside miles away is a line of stone. The anticipation in the bus leaps upwards.

We pass an odd pinkish construction site with a very familiar fake turreted castle in the background. Oh GOD, yes, it's Disneyland China, all set to be finished in time for the Olympics and being built just a short drive from the wall. And like in Beijing, road crews are busy planting shrubs and moving paving stones into place all along the route. Our observations of the traffic make it pretty clear that the concept of solidarity has been demolished, at least for the owners of cars. We watch, amazed, at the close cutting in on blind curves and complete disregard of the solid white lines. Until we stop again. The buzz on the guide's microphone is worse than ever and Lariel is asking, 'Did he say something about ice cream?' God knows, one of us needs to have their hearing surgically improved.

One of the group asks, 'How far is it?' and is answered, 'about two car jams away.' We've created a new measurement of distance. Incredibly, the two way, one lane road is jammed with cars all trying to go the same way and finally hits a similar group determined to use both lanes to go the other way. The wall is about a mile away, tantalising in the distance, and the guide finally gives up and asks us all to get out and walk.

We are all beginning to worry that maybe this trip will be cancelled and I feel like a child, barely able to resist crying out, "If I don't get to the Wall, I want my money back!'

Incredibly, the traffic makes or finds a gap where the cars can pass each other and begins to move. The bus catches up to us and we re-board, and within ten minutes have reached the main parking area for the Badaling section of the Wall. We scramble out in an almost ecstatic and relieved frenzy; well, as much of a frenzy as Brits would experience, and follow the signs.

I have a history of noticing what I think of as 'inappropriate' music at times. An example would be that it seemed everywhere I went during my first visit to Liverpool, I heard Beach Boys tunes. But beginning the climb to the first tower of the Great Wall of China while speakers are blasting out 'Jambalya' tops all of them. I find myself surprised at how determined I am to climb to the high point, which we are all assuming is just above the next ridge. I've heard it's quite a climb, but it's still only stairs and no ice axes required. I threw my back out in Venice the week before, and I've been forced to do back strengthening exercises each day, but I'm hoping all that walking in Italy will have gotten my legs ready for this.

The steps are mainly slate, sheered in different heights from an inch to a foot. The wall winds, turns on a pivot, widens, and narrows like some great uphill river. There are several hundred steps between each turn but the views and the sense of wonder, combine with the adrenaline to drive you on.

Lariel drops out at the second watchtower; not due to exhaustion, but vertigo - the heights are greater and more importantly, the drops far steeper, than she had expected. There are still at least a thousand people climbing as we reach the third tower, which is actually more of a barracks. There's a shop and a place to get a certificate for climbing the wall. Many seize the opportunity to quit as above the barracks we can now see two more towers high above us. We get down to the hundred or so bull-headed idiots now and it's easier to climb as there are fewer people coming back down and squeezing through the narrow steps. Of course, once we reach the fifth tower, there is another even higher. We rest for a bit, staring out at the view of the rounded sloping countryside and, of course, take some pictures. It only fuels our desire to see the full panorama, which is only possible if we press on. There's four from our group left, and about a dozen in total from the original thousand as we shake our heads and begin again. After only fifteen minutes more, I'm beginning to worry about my heart rate. But then we pass our seventh barrack and see what really appears to be the final watchtower far too high above us.

We've been exchanging the lead pretty casually, all of us just wanting to see the other side of the hill and not caring who makes it first. One of our group is almost halfway up the what we hope is the last section, and we plead to her to tell us that there aren't anymore steps beyond her. She just laughs and waits for us to catch up. We're down to only nine of us, when we finally reach the top. There is a single stair leading to a tower, but there is also two branches of the battlements, and they are both heading down. We've made it.

We crawl towards the last watchtower, laughing at our own foolish pride, but determined to see the whole view without any obstructions. The stairs are almost rounded now, and each of the towers and the steps have been more worn as we climbed upwards. As though the repairs in the lower sections were only for the milquetoasts who never made it this far.

Within the tower there's a small hole and, what else? More stairs upwards. Only one of us can go up at a time and we take turns to squeeze through. Emerging upside, there's a small crenulated wall and I wonder how many people, having climbed how many thousands of steps to get to this point, are zombified enough to climb that last step into eternity? Not me. I have the most amazing view of the Chinese countryside with the Great Wall of China unfurling below me, a ribbon of stone racing along the ridges as far as any eye could ever see. Far, far below is the highway and somewhere Lariel.

Unlike the previous pristone towers, this one is scattered with cigarette butts and you have to appreciate the irony of people pushing their cardiovascular systems to the limit, just to finally rest by destroying their lungs. Of course, I join them in the idiocy while the rest of the victors take more photos of the view.

Now we have to go down, and it's a lot harder than we all thought. The irregularity of the depth of the steps and their steepness combines with the fact that going down a staircase is always more dangerous than going up. As well, damn it, Lariel was right, it is high up! And it gets crowded again the more we descend. But I don't care. Too many of the sites have seemed unreal or swamped by artifice. By climbing the wall for even this small distance, we can pretend we've made it ours; experienced its reality. Of course it's not true; the reality is of soldiers who would have walked it again and again, night after night, who would have laughed at our pretension. But nevertheless, we can still feel that we've seized our moment, and that could never be mocked.

That night after another excellent meal, I headed out on my own. I was determined to ride on the Beijing subway. I'm not a collector, like some steam engine fanatics I know, but I have been on subways from Tokyo to New York, from Bay Area Rapid Transit to London and it always seems like a good way to understand and get to know a city.

Well, with the already mentioned dim night lighting, it was a spooky experience. Also, without corner road signs, I managed to make the wrong turn right away. Once I found my bearings, I headed for another subway stop near where I was, but found, though it might have been on the map, it was not yet open. The subway, I'd been told, closed at 11PM. I attempted to cross several parks and squares, including the Temple of Heaven and Tiananmen but all were gated and closed. Once I was a few blocks away from the hotels, my appearance seemed to be considered unusual, but at no time was I spoken to nor did I feel unsafe, an accomplishment in such a large city. At one point I admitted to being hopelessly lost, and went into two shops for assistance. One, a pharmacy, the other one of the hundreds of KFC outlets. Both times, I presented my map and gave an open handed gesture to indicate I was lost. In Tokyo, I had been mobbed by people wanting to try out their English, bubbling up in their enthusiasm to help guide me. However my situation was interpreted, in both cases I seemed to create fear in the faces of the clerks and it was indicated I should leave their place immediately.

I never saw a red light district or prostitutes of any kind, but the penalties for that are such that I assumed such activities would be conducted away from the street. Then again, I never saw any armed patrols. It was a lovely, peaceful city. Though, like the old westerns, almost too quiet. The main activity outdoors that I did see was more landscaping being done in near complete darkness. I saw a hairdressing salon completely packed with kids lining up outside at almost midnight, most wearing T-shirts with English slang or Western bands. Neon and Day-Glo tinting and streaking seemed to be the order of the day. I passed a block with an active club scene that could have been any medium-sized town in the mid 80's, except the disco décor was sound-blasted by grunge bands. I saw people playing badminton in the glow of a shop light while a relatively fit cat slinked past them confidently.

After three hours of walking, it was getting pretty late and I'd told Lariel I'd be back before 1:00. So defeated by the map and roadsigns, and having only been in an unopened Subway station, I headed home. I wasn't too depressed, because it wasn't all THAT important. Even if what I'd seen had confused me, I had stepped off the tourist track, and … well, we still had a night in Beijing the next week for me to try again.

Day 5

'Visit to Temple of Heaven. Flight to Yichang. Board Ship President 4 to begin your voyage down the Three Gorges of the Yangtze'

The 600 year old Temple of Heaven is definitely worth a visit. The area surrounded by the walls is actually larger than Tiananmen Square, (supposedly as the Emperors could not build a city larger than Heaven.) The actual central temple is one of the most beautiful buildings I have seen and it is surrounded by park areas which are used for exercise of a bewildering variety, including square dancing and Tai Chi. Yes, you haven't lived until you've seen elderly Chinese doing line dancing in Beijing. It is in walking distance from most of the downtown hotels, reached by a majority of buses and, once again surprising in a People's State, costs 35 Yuan to enter.

The bus ride to the airport is a chance for the group to talk about Beijing. One brings up the insane drivers, that there are no lay-bys on the highways for accidents or rest and sums up by saying, "They seem determined to repeat all of the Western mistakes." I find it funny that she's only referring to the road system. We have a great meal at an excellent restaurant though afterwards I cannot find the name of it anywhere.

And then it's off to Beijing Airport again and our flight to Yichang. We wait in the spanking new airport for our delayed flight, trying to hear the announcements. Once again they are hard to hear, though spoken in English and Mandarin, all seem to sound like "All underwear must be placed on the head of the cat before burning." Eventually we are able to board with the assistance of china dolls disguised as flight assistants. It's another flashback to the fifties as it seems that only unmarried 18- 23 year-old attractive women are hired to be 'stews'. Our 'meal' is a cake of some form that I find bland but the rest of the group place in their handbags only because they hate to waste food.

We arrive in Yichang, and the Yiling Gorge, the first of the three gorges and the closest city to the Gezhouba Dam, while the Three Gorges Dam is about 40 kilometres away. And find ourselves in a space with only a few English signs. Have we finally run slightly off the tourist rut?

Of course not.

Part 1 - From Beijing to Yichang | Part 2 - The Great River - Travels Along The Yangtze | Part 3 -