China: Karst, Kockroaches, and Krapping My Pants

Before catching the bus to Yangshuo, we stayed the night in the nearby city of Guilin. We grabbed some food and had a quick wander around. It was relatively late at night though, and the streets were fairly deserted except for a few people burning rubbish in the street. I would imagine this is an unfair representation of the city; nevertheless it was a relief to escape to Yangshuo the next day.

The bus ride was a bone-rattling but astounding journey through the countryside, which is dotted with karst rock formations. These irregular towers of stone punctuated the sky like rudimentary knives; dreamlike and enchanting. Yangshuo is gloriously located, nestled in between the karst formations and perched delicately on the edge of the Li River.

Our hostel was a bit sketchy, but cheap. The beauty of Yanghsuo is certainly not a well-kept secret. This was a travellers' mecca, and I think it was the most 'touristy' place we had visited so far. Yet, in these surroundings it was impossible to care. You would find yourself drifting off into your own little world where only you and the scenery existed. Kirstie and I strolled through the vibrant streets, sampled the distinctive taste of curried snails, and browsed the boutiques.

The next morning when I woke up, something in my body did not feel quite right. Alarmingly, I spluttered out some quite watery poos before leaving the house (sorry to be so graphic - but you haven't heard anything yet). We planned to hire bikes so we could explore the rice paddies and the surrounding countryside. However, before we set out on our cycling jaunt we visited the local supermarket to stock up on supplies. As I moved towards the checkout, clutching bottles of water and Pocky biscuits, a tiny fart threatened to escape. I clenched my cheeks for a second to stop it materialising fully. For a moment, a cense of doubt entered my head. If I let this one go, is something bad going to happen? Then I just thought- Fuck it, and let it rip.

My heart stopped as the innocent little trump filled my boxer shorts. I could only utter a simple 'Uh-oh!' to Kirstie as I handed her the food. In an instant she knew what had happened (intuitive as she is) and a mixed look of delight and shame appeared on her pretty little face. Fortunately our hostel was nearby and I bolted off, running from the knees down and clenching like my life depended on it. Our hostel was built into the side of a cliff, and consequently the steps which I had to climb to my room were very steep indeed. Clenching was no longer an option as I was required to stride up each step, allowing the contents of my pants far too much freedom to explore.

I finally reached our room and plunged into the ensuite. My boxers promptly found themselves cast into the bin for all eternity, and I finished the job. Never have I been so happy to have a European toilet in a Chinese hostel, and not a sink in the floor. I came out of the toilet, sweaty, relieved, amused and bizarrely proud of what I had just done. I found Kirstie waiting for me, so I swallowed a few diarrhoea tablets and then I was ready to get on my bike.

We cycled through the busy streets of Yangshuo and then out of town towards the Yulong River, which is a smaller tributary of the Li River. The Yulong has no motorised boat traffic and thus is clean enough for swimming. Just outside the town we diverted off the main road onto a gravel track which runs along the length of the river. We spent the afternoon following this path, stopping occasionally to appreciate the countryside and to take an inordinate amount of photographs. As we cycled against the flow of the stream, primitive bamboo rafts drifted the other way past us. These were being punted downstream by local chauffeurs, as tourists lazed idly on the rafts. The whole scene was very much like a tropical version of an Oxford summer.

As our expedition progressed along the winding path, the booming business-side of the bamboo rafts reared it's less than idyllic head. All of a sudden, local women on bikes began to follow us, persistently shouting 'Bamboo! Bamboo!'. With no desire to undertake a boat ride at that point, we exclaimed 'Bu Yao!" and quickened our pace. In order to avoid harassment we decided to go 'off-road' and began to follow smaller paths through rice fields and tiny rural villages. As we got further into rural China the trail worsened; becoming rockier and much, much steeper. We stopped at the top of the largest hill to finish our snacks, then descended back to the original trail before heading home via the main road again.

The next day Stu and Vinny planned to join us in Yangshuo, so we booked a bigger room in another hostel (called Monkey Jane's) for the following night and then went out for dinner. When we got back to our current 'home-from-home', I went to use the internet whilst Keeg stayed in the room. I got back to the room at around 10.30 pm to find Keeg in a minor state of panic. She informed me that a cockroach about the size of her fist had crawled down our curtains and hidden under our bed. I complained to the hostel manager instantly and we were promptly/nervously shepherded into another room, which we were assured was a better, cleaner, and more expensive option. As I switched on the light, a gigantic cockroach scaled the wall across from me and another scuttled along the mattress and under the pillow of our 'more expensive bed'. One thing became clear: the entire hostel was infested with these little buggers! Neither me nor Kirstie wanted to wake up sharing the bed with a family of cockroaches fighting us for mattress space; so we gathered our worldly possessions and left. We managed to secure a room at Monkey Jane's for that night too and went to sleep after ransacking our new room for cockroaches too.

Stu and Vinny arrived early the next morning. We hired bikes again but explored a different area of the local countryside. We headed south from Yangshuo towards a popular scenic spot called Moon Hill. This was a much larger karst formation with a huge moon shaped hole in the centre of it. At different angles the hole resembles different phases of the moon's cycle; ranging from crescent to full. We adored it from the road and then carried on to explore further small villages, before travelling back to the Yulong River. This time we opted to go 'off-road' again but on the other side of the river. We weaved around paddies and held our balance on dusty, tightrope paths. Then we got lost. The paths disappeared, and the banks of the river seemed to be inching ever closer to our proposed route. We had to get off and walk our bikes, lifting them over our heads at times to avoid the foliage. Eventually we reached the banks of the river with nowhere else to go. Fortunately, some friendly bamboo-raft chaps were on hand to help us. They drifted across and offered to take us back in the right direction. After a spot of haggling we negotiated a good price and since we were in quite a pickle, Kirstie and I clambered aboard with our bikes in tow. Stu also seemed bang up for it. However, Vinny was not impressed with the price and refused to go. The budget conscious Scotsman strikes again! Consequently, Stu and Vinny made it back across the rubble and through the undergrowth to where we had started. Meanwhile, me and Keeg lay back and glided gently along with the flow of the river until we got back to exactly the same place. Erm...not sure who got the better deal there.?! Admittedly, I did get a puncture during our boat ride and had to cycle back up the hill to our hostel at a decidedly sloooow pace. But it was worth it. Definitely worth it!

That night, we celebrated our adventures so far and got rather inebriated in a bunch of local bars. We also sampled the local delicacy of Beer Fish. The combination of food and beer in one single entity had the potential to literally be the best thing ever. However, it did not quite live up to its billing. Not bad, but not good either. When we got back to our room we found 2 more cockroaches. The double-roach extravaganza seemed to be becoming a bit of a trend in Yangshuo's hostels! Stu managed to kill one with his flip-flop this time round. Cockroaches are rumoured to be able to survive nuclear fallout but apparently not the apathetic slap of a skinny lad from Leeds' flip-flop. Now that is a design flaw if I ever saw one.

After another prompt room change, we got some sleep.

On our next day, not only did the heavens open but they continued to piss all over us for the rest of the day. We found refuge in the stereotypically named Backpackers' Cafe, ate some Western food, read a little and prepared for our journey that evening to Shenzhen and ultimately Hong Kong. That journey would turn out to be the most uncomfortable journey of my entire life. The Chinese 'Sleeper-Bus' truly is the king of leg-aching, fever-inducing travel nightmares.

China: P...P...P...P...Pick up a Panda!

Our journey from Xi'an to Chengdu (Panda Central) was certainly not without drama. We shared two taxis to the station with John and Dori. Me, Keeg, and Stu jumped in one, whilst our young Scottish friend shared with John and Dori. We got to the train station first, and as time was of the essence we swiftly got through the barriers and got on the train. We put our bags down, got settled etc. and waited for Forrester to turn up. Some time passed. All of a sudden, we realised that Vinny had given his ticket to Kirstie earlier for safe keeping. Nightmare! We had visions of Vinny being stranded in Xi'an, whilst we frolicked around in panda land. This certainly could not happen, especially since Vinny was clearly the most excited about our encounter with the black-and-white, furry, little buggers. He does love cute things after all! Anyway, with about 3 and a half minutes before the train was scheduled to leave, I valiantly vowed to sprint through the vast railway station to take Forrester his ticket. With the potential for Keegan and Stu to be arriving in Chengdu minus two people but plus one massive rucksack, it was definitely nail-biting time! I set off like a Usain Bolt being chased by a cheetah. But after a world-record breaking 20 metres. I basically slammed slap bang into Vincenzo, John, and Dori. Crisis averted! Rejoice! Huzzah! etc. The canny Scot had cunningly used an old ticket to slip through the barriers undetected! "The Crisp" strikes again! (Just to clarify - Vinny's new nickname is "The Crisp" due to his effortless, fluid and crisp cue action when playing pool). Anyway, we were all very sweaty, but super happy. We enjoyed a few train beers with the gang and then went to sleep with excited anticipation of the endangered-animal wonders which lay ahead!

We arrived in Chengdu the next afternoon, checked-in at the infamous Mix Hostel (1 quid a night accommodation), and headed out in search of Sichuan's world-famously spicy cuisine. We went to a local restaurant and smashed up some Kung Pao chicken, some belly Pork, spicy shredded pork and some deep fried sweetcorn. Ace. After that, we strolled through the Old Town, and made our way to Tianfu Square, where an imposing statue of Mao was to be found. After our twilight jaunt, we got back and had a few brewskis in Mix's charming garden, and then got an early night ahead of the next morning's panda extravaganza!

We had to get up early in order to catch the pandas' feeding time. Apparently they wake up at about 9am, chow down on a seriously large amount of bamboo, and then spend the rest of the day sleeping! Therefore we got to the Chengdu Panda Breeding Centre at a few minutes to 9, and thus just in time to see them stirring from their slumber. Then the feeding frenzy began! It is quite impossible to describe just how satisfying it is to hear the sound of a panda's tooth crunching on bamboo. We saw older, wise-looking pandas, stroppy adolescent pandas, and also extremely playful, clumsy and excitable baby pandas! It is quite a privilege to witness so many pandas in one place. Obviously though, this was the place to see them, since 80% of the world's pandas reside in the Sichuan province of China. It was quite a surreal experience too, as the pandas actually just look like humans wearing big panda suits; especially as they lounge around, scratching themselves like your inappropriate uncle, and stripping leaves swiftly and easily from endless poles of bamboo. The panda's wrist works like an opposable thumb to grip the bamboo with impressive dexterity. It truly looks like you could give a panda a seriously good handshake. After checking out the Giant Pandas we were taken to see the Red Pandas, which in all fairness are a bit shit. They're just really small, and look like a raccoon. And yeah, just generally a bit boring. Not impressed at all mate! Apparently, you could hold a red panda in your hand for a fiver, but obviously none of us were particularly arsed. One step better though, you were able to hug a big Giant Panda for around 40 quid, or even hold a baby Giant Panda in your hand for 120 big ones! Our budgets certainly didn't allow for such an extravagance, and so we went without man-handling a panda this year. John Prescott, certainly got more than a handful though when he visited the place a few years before; the Panda museum demonstrated this with clear pictorial evidence. He did however (as my mate Spunge pointed out) look like he was about to eat it.

After all the excitement, we went back and napped for a while, then went to McDonalds (again! - shameful I know, but just try eating Chinese food all day everyday). That evening it was the Champion's League final. Vinny was too knackered to watch it (the girl) and Keegan is not the biggest footy fan, so just me and Stu headed out to watch it. We watched the game at an Irish bar called at 2.45am and it was all rather disappointing all round. Man Utd were crap and essentially might not have bothered turning up, since Barca absolutely walked it. There was a great atmosphere in the bar though, and the wealth of Barca fans present were going absolutely mental. We also met a charming chap there, who was staying at our hostel, and it turns out lives in East Bridgeford (10 minutes from Bottesford i.e. back home in England). Consequently, he was a Forest fan, so we chatted about footy and also drinking in The Reindeer pub of East Bridgeford. It's a small world after all.

The next day, Stu and Vinny left me and Keegan alone for a few days, as they headed out on a 3 day boat trip down the Yangtze river through the impressive Three Gorges. Thus me and Keegan went and explored Chengdu a bit more, before catching a gruelling 25 hour train journey to Guilin. Highlights of our pleasant, exploratory day included- visiting the peaceful Wenshu Monastery, eating some wicked-sweet fried rice for lunch in a bustling Chinese food hall, and then walking past a man in the centre of the busy city, who inexplicably had a live rat and dead mouse attached to the same piece of string. Weird to say the least! Indeed, even after a few weeks, China was still continuing to surprise me.

China: The Walls, The Warriors and The Wonders of the Muslim Quarter

We arrived in Xi'an, after our brutal train journey, at 7am in the morning; exhausted, smelly, and truly sick of eating Chinese pot-noodles already (a feeling which would worsen severely as our trip continued). We headed to our hostel, which was two pounds a night, and truly the best place we had stayed so far. Traditional, spacious, with courtyards, a sun terrace, and a bar downstairs.

After showering etc. we decided to head to the City Walls. Incidentally, Xi'an is the only city in China which still has the entirety of its city walls still intact; and you can walk around them or hire bikes. Of course, we went for the bike option. Me and Keegan shared a tandem and looked like absolute nerds as we cycled about the place. Vinny and Stu opted for the singular bicycle variety. A wise choice, as I think they were keen to avoid looking like a couple. First of all, we cycled round to the end of the southern wall, when all of a sudden Vinny's pedal fell off. Consequently, we made a hasty retreat back to the cycle distribution centre, to replace Vinny's bike. A short journey which involved Vinny holding onto Stu as he towed the Scotsman back to the starting line. After the switch was made, we cycled the perimeter of the city. The vista was far from jaw-dropping, but the cycling novelty created all kinds of excitement. We all had a go on the tandem, we weaved in and out of pot-holes, and we ate amazing cola/lemonade ice lollies half way round.

When we got back, we freshened up, and then got in a taxi to the train station. I'm pretty sure this taxi ride was basically a real-life manifestation of a scene from the computer game Crazy Taxi or Grand Theft Auto. The driver was truly mental! He weaved in and out of cars at an alarming speed. I'm pretty sure at one point, he even asked Chewbacca to push us into hyperdrive. Our own lives did not pass before our eyes, but the lives of several others certainly did. Literally within the space of ten seconds the driver nearly ran over A) a toddler, B) a woman pushing a baby in a pram and C) an octogenarian. A little shaken up, we actually made it in one piece, and booked our tickets for our next train to Chengdu in a few days time. That night we went out for some food in a restaurant with a menu which was written entirely in Chinese script. We just pointed and guessed, and ended up with some fantastic local dishes including a whole fish in a really tasty curry sauce. That night we had a few drinks with John, and Jess (whom we had previously met in Shanghai) and a Kiwi chap called Declan, who was an absolute charmer. He also found everything we said which was intended to be funny, actually funny; therefore, he went even higher up in our estimations.

The next day we decided to undertake our first organised trip of the entire journey. It was to the Terracotta Warriors, and a lot of friends we had made joined us on the trip too. Before, we got to the site of the warriors, we were made to stop off at a real tourist-trap factory, where replica Terracotta Warriors were made and sold for outrageous prices. Fortunately, I was unable to fit a life-size, archer made from jade (the precious stone, not Goody) into my 65 litre rucksack ; and therefore, no purchases were made.

Don't get me wrong, the actual Terracotta Army is certainly worth seeing, but as expected/warned it was a little disappointing. The intricacy of the warriors is incredible, and the sheer size and amount of them on display was mind-blowing. However, once you've seen one clay warrior (although the face of each individual warrior is entirely unique apparently) you have seen them all. Moreover, the experience is certainly not enhanced by the amount of tourists clammering for a photo, and the overbearing aircraft hanger, which the statues are contained in. The whole experience sort of lacked a certain magic. The idea and the history of the original Warrior production is the facinating aspect, but this was not overly-well explained by our charming, yet hapless tour-guide who bobbed around the place smiling, and holding a cuddly flower toy aloft, instead of the archetypal umbrella. "Follow the flower!" was the most heard sentence of the day.

That night we met some more people at the hostel, who we visited the vibrant Muslim Quarter with. These people were thus- a Glaswegian guy called Andrew (a Rangers Fan), an Aussie called Rohan, and a group of Canadian girls, who were actually all travelling separately- a pair of young opera singing students, a mandarin speaking girl called Lindsay, and a slightly over-enthusiastic Chinese girl called Dori (like the forgetful fish from Finding Nemo) who had lived in Canada for a few years, and had now subsequently renounced her chinese heritage completely.

The Muslim Quarter is a bustling street market area with a massive array of tat on sale, but also has amazing street food by the bucket load. We ate- Chicken Kebabs, Spicy Beef Pancakes, Sweet donuts filled with sweet kiwi sauce or dates, and some gelatinous rice cake things which upon first glance looked like the most amazing fried potatoes mixed with chilli and garlic. Fair to say, the rice cakes were a tad disappointing. After exploring the stalls, and sampling the plethora of culinary delights, we got some road beers for the walk back to the hostel, and then picked up a crate of Tsingtaos from the local shop. We then spent the evening chatting, and getting drunk on the sundeck. Andrew also bought a Chinese spirit called Baijo, which is rather popular it seems for two main reasons- 1) it is 60% proof, and 2) it costs 60 english pence for a bottle. However, despite the drunken revelry, this was also a sad evening. Not only did Celtic not win the Scottish Premier League (Andrew was happy. Vinny was not), but Damian Duff and his wonder strike (own goal) relegated Newcastle Utd to the Championship next year. Gutted. Not cool Damian, not bloody cool!

The next day we got an extended lie in. Then we went and bartered for some things in the Muslim Quarter. Vinny bought a new day bag for just 5 pounds, which incidentally ripped in half about a week later as soon as we arrived in Hong Kong. Then, that night we got the night train to Chengdu along with John, and Dori.

Chengdu was next, and with this came the prospect of seeing Pandas.

China: Hang-zhou Time at The West Lake

Our one full day at the West Lake in Hangzhou was spent circumnavigating said body of water. Around 10km around, it was a sun drenched, and tiring walk. Incredibly picturesque, it far outshone the wonders of the Summer Palace in Beijing. We wandered around it's network of tiny islands, gardens, pagodas, and humpback bridges.

The evening was another relaxed affair; however, we actually ended up going to two restaurants in the space of an hour. The food in the first one was inedible at best. Tiny portions, greasy and at times quite frightening. We ordered duck, which turned out to be a whole little mallard (or equivalent) Head, beak, spinal cord; it was all there. However, the meat seemed to be missing. After paying too much for far too little, we got the fuck out of dodge. After our inadvertent starter, we headed back in the direction of the hostel in search of a main course. Hanging out in the garden of our hostel were some local chinese people who worked in hotels around the area. We asked them for directions to a good local restaurant, which resulted in two absolute charmers- Devvy and Jim- taking us to an amazing, cheap, and local restaurant. Not only did they show us the way, but they translated the menu for us, ordered, gave us advice on chopstick wizardry, and chatted to us throughout our meal. Ace. Their english was incredible too. Jim especially (a sure fire geek), was incredibly fluent and knowledgable. It turned out his job was in a local posh hotel, where he was required to deal with people's complaints all day, every day. Consequently, he had a good rant and told us stories about some of the complaints he received. A particular highlight was that of a Canadian gentleman whose underpants fell onto the bathroom floor, so he demanded that the hotel buy him a new pair, or give him a free night's accommodation. Jim found this particularly funny it seems. Jim's expert command of the english language was further demonstrated as he continuously provided us with various titbits of information about Britain with great gusto e.g. "the Clyde is the longest river in Scotland." It seems Jim (in a worryingly similar manner to Vinny) has clearly spent far too much time on wikipedia. I exchanged email addresses with the chap and he has sent me some charming emails thus far, complaining about his life and describing his aspirations.
Some incredibly sincere highlights include-

1) "Are you still in Xi'an, how about there?...I dreamed to visit there for a long time, but every time end at failure."

2) "now everyday I have to work, sometimes I feel very boring, everyday just repeat the same thing, everyday must face a gang of angry guest. sometimes I wondering why they addicted to complaining."

3) "I like to make freinds with youngest,especially the same age with me. we have the common."

Charming.

Next stop was Xi'an and the Terracotta Warriors. 21 hours on a train later, and we were there. Phew!

China: Shanghai Plus One

On day 14 of our adventure, I went to Pudong International Airport, and after what had seemed like a lifetime I finally met Kirstie in China. It was pretty damn exciting for me to now have Keegan along for the journey. We headed back to the hostel, hung out for a bit, met up with Vinny and Stu, and then we went for another stroll along Nanjing Road.

That evening we went to a restaurant called Little Sheep, which our guide book recommended as the best place in town to get Mongolian Hotpot. Essentially, at this restaurant you have to cook your own food. You get given a bubbling pot of sauce which is kept burning over a stove in the middle of the table, then you get given raw meats, and meatballs, fishsticks, vegetables, and dough sticks, or whatever you wish to order. Subsequently, you then cook your little morsels in the big pot of sauce. Kinda like a Meat Fondue. The novelty was great, but it certainly wears off after a bit, and the quality of food was not great. Keegan and Vinny were less than impressed. Me and Stu were a slightly more impressed. But not blown away that's for sure.

The next day we had a mammoth lie-in which was definitely needed by Keegan who had been awake for the past 40 hours or so. Then we decided to go and explore the stylish French Concession. Its leafy streets with french architecture, quaint cafes and charming boutiques were certainly a refreshing escape from the hyper-commercialism and headache-inducing buzz of Nanjing Road. We wandered the streets, hung out in the park, watched the locals doing Tai Chi, had a few cocktails, and went to Bao Luo (the same restaurant from two days before) for dinner and more Hongshao Rou. It was yet another relaxing day in Shanghai.

The next day, me and Keegan got up early and strolled along the Bund and enjoyed the views of futuristic Pudong across the river. Unfortunately though, we could only walk so far because major construction work was going on by the river for the Shanghai Expo 2010. Then we met up with the boys, and went to an amazing/cheap local eatery to eat Satay Noodles for just 40 pence. We then strolled to People's Square, where we just hung out in the park.

That night we went over to Pudong and became dwarfed by the incredible skyscrapers which lit up the sky. We went into the uber-posh Park Hyatt Hotel, and strolled through it, attempting to look natural whilst clearly looking completely out of place. We got the escalator to the Cloud 9 bar on the 87th floor, didn't buy a single drink and took lots of photos of the amazing views of the Shanghai skyline at night. During this little jaunt we met three others attempting a similar exploitation of the Park Hyatt's vantage point, John and Jess (who we would see a lot more of during our travels round China), and an aloof american guy called Eric. We went for a few beers together at a road side vendor in Pudong.

The next day it was absolutely belting it down in Shanghai, so after just grabbing some more Satay Noodles, we hung out in the hostel and caught up on correspondence etc. Then in the evening we got a train to Hangzhou to see the West Lake. More updates coming soon.

Jack x

China: Noodles, Noise-Core, and Nanjing road

Shanghai - Part A (2 days before keegan)

We got the hard seat train from Suzhou to Shanghai, which in truth was very comfortable! It was spacious, air-conditioned and there was no livestock running around the train. Safe to say it was a refreshing antithesis to what our guide book described as pretty much hell-on-earth. However, the scenes at Suzhou train station were akin to that of the apocalypse. Absolute carnage ensued as the train was announced, and it seemed that half the population of China suddenly appeared and began to cram through the barriers, and literally fight their way bare-handed onto the train. Babies were being thrown about like american footballs, people were fosbie flopping over barriers without batting an eyelid, crowd surfing was rife, and bloodshed most certainly occurred. The atmosphere was one of palpable tension, screaming tore through your ear dums, and train tickets filled the air and scattered like confetti. This madness was actually about 45 minutes before the train left, so after the Jumanji-esque stampede had fizzled out, Vinny, Stu, and myself nonchalantly strolled through the barrier, stepping over dead bodies, and nodding politely at the bedraggled railway staff.

We arrived in Shanghai in the evening, and met two chaps in our dorm. One was an English guy called Spike, and the other was a Chinese gentleman who did not speak a single word of English; instead he literally just laughed and smiled the entire time. Thus he eternally became 'Smiler.'

We ended up grabbing dinner at an absolutely awesome restaurant with Spike who could also speak Mandarin. Over a dinner of Fried Noodles, Mi Fan (rice), Belly Pork (aka: Hongshao Rou = unbelievably good), Beef in chilli oil, Bullfrog, Sweetened Beef, and Boiled Jellyfish (which did not taste like food, neither texture-wise nor flavour-wise), we managed to learn some more useful Mandarin phrases off Spike. Most importantly were- "Bu Yao!" which means "no want" and is an essential phrase in responding to the endless amount of people trying to sell you stuff in the street all over China. In fact, I think every day after this I used the phrase "Bu Yao!" at least 100 times a day.

Day 2 in Shanghai started with a much needed lie in. But then we got up and headed over to a venue on the east side of town called- Red Star. We had heard about a gig there with some local alternative music, so we were pretty excited. The bands turned out to play avant-garde, noisecore music. It was pretty crazy, and stupidly noisy. The show even involved some weird elements of theatre. Halfway through the set of the last band, a chap dressed as a doctor climbed aboard the stage and pretended to inject the band members with a giant needle, which resulted in them going properly mental. Effects pedals hit the wall, tables were turned over and deafening drones filled the room.

When we got back to the dorm, we found Smiler (still smiling) but repeatedly miming that he was shivering, and pointing at the air-conditioning. Unable to turn it off himself, it seemed he had just sat there for a good few hours. We switched it off for him, and Smiler's smile could clearly be seen from space. Quality.

After that we just had a stroll down Nanjing Road and drenched ourselves in the lights of Shanghai''s most vibrant/commercial street. We just relaxed again in the evening, and I got an excited early night, ready to meet Kirstie at the airport the next day.

China: Mini Town Mazes and Mini-Mountain Jaunts

We arrived in Suzhou at night and asked the chap from the hostel about a good place where we could go for some quiet beers. However, he seemed to be having us on somewhat, as he directed us to a region where the majority of venues were most certainly "Lady Bars". The other places which had a distinct lack of breasts on show, were just dead. We played darts over a few Tsingtao's in an Australian bar. Then we eventually found a rather jumping club/bar called Scarlet. Masses of local youths seemed to be loving the tunes being played (incidentally there was far too much Akon for our liking). However, we ended up hanging out with a local lad called Eric, and some of his friends.

The next day we got the local bus to a nearby canal town called Tongli. Unfortunately, Vinny and Stu refused to pay the entrance fee to the town. Nevertheless, I was not gonna waste the day, so I went in whilst the chaps spent the next four hours reading. The town was packed full of peaceful gardens complete with mini pagodas and ponds teaming with Koi carp. I strolled around the many canals, humpback bridges and backstreets, which was certainly a welcome change of pace from the frenetic energy of China's big cities.

That night we just streamed the England vs West Indies test match on the internet.

The next day we went to Tianpingshan in the Lake Tai area, where we had a particularly hot and sweaty hike. There was also a bizarre mini-disneyland themed-amusement park at the foot of the mountain, complete with statues of the seven dwarves and paddling pools.

Shanghai was next! And the arrival of Keegan.

China: Massacres, Memorials and Mountains of Purple

Right here it goes- China updates are coming thick and fast now! (I hope)

From Qingdao, we took a Soft Seat train to Nanjing. 8 hours of serious "arse on cushion" comfort. The pollution between the two cities was ridiculous. The view consisted of the following pattern- power station, smog, polluted fog, power station, power station, power station, smog, smog, smog, another power station, oh yes some more smog, and then what's that? oh its a power station. It clearly seems that China's attempts to develop into a super power is more like an attempt to develop into a "super power station".

Anyway, we arrived in Nanjing at night and it was a pleasant city with leafy boulevards across the place. The Sunflower Hostel was a little bit grubby but not too shabby by all accounts. We met a young, American roister-doister called Fletch in our room, so we decided to go grab a few beers with him. As we were heading out we also met a few more people: a young german couple called Gerhardt and Gertrude (I can't remember her actual name) and then Stevesie (guy who was into map reading and camping. He looked kinda like a skinny version of Bill Murray in The Life Aquatic - hence the nickname). We went to a few places and had a few beers, before Stevesie, Fletch and the slightly dull German couple left us to our own devices in The Castle bar. However, soon after their departure we were joined by an incredibly hammered/enthusiastic Tibetan chap. He asked us to join him and his friends. All of them were from Lhasa in Tibet, and all of them were inebriated. Conversation tended to include the following subjects- 1) Welcoming us to the Tibet in their hearts. 2) The freedom of Tibet. 3) They would mention an English football team/football player/film star and then they would smile, stick their thumb up and exclaim "Very good!" It was quite charming. "Clive Owen. Very good!" was a particular highlight. Then they all sang to us, in unison, a Tibetan song about their hometown. Subsequently, we were asked to sing "Yellow Submarine" by The Beatles. We obliged. As we were leaving, the ringleader of the Tibetan group pointed at his T-shirt which had Heath Ledger's face emblazoned across it, and exclaimed "Orlando Bloom. Very good!" Good times.

The next day we visited the Nanjing Massacre Memorial Hall, which was in dedication to the 300, 000 Chinese people killed in Nanjing by Japanese soldiers in 1937. It was understandably pretty grim, hard-hitting stuff. It was a fascinating museum, but it really did not pull any punches at all. The museum housed graphic photos, video footage of dead bodies and women who had been raped (sometimes 40 times in one day - apparently if they were particularly attractive) and of people with chunks taken out of their neck from unsuccessful beheading attempts. We also saw three different actual mass graves, filled with skeletons of the victims. It was a fantastic museum and I would certainly recommend it, but don't expect to be feeling too great afterwards. The Chinese people however, seemed to appreciate the place in a slightly different and bizzarre way. It was not uncommon to see young people, both strangely and distastefully, posing for smiley photos alongside statues of people on fire or holding their dead babies.

That evening we just hung out with a few 35p beers. The next day we headed to the Purple Mountain on the fringes of Nanjing. We caught the cable car up to the top and explored the gardens, and walked back down to the city. Excellent views were enjoyed. That's about that. That night we got the train to Suzhou. Canal towns ahoy!