The final day

Monday 30^th May 2011

0 days left traveling the world.

MP3 track of the day: The breaking of the fellowship – The Lord of the Rings

Weather: Hot in Beijing / raining and cold in London

As the sun rose, on my final day, I found that an alarm wasn't needed; I woke up, at 6am, of my own accord and began to get ready as quietly as possible. As I'd packed my bags the previous day, it didn't take long to get ready and soon I found myself walking towards the nearest underground station, lugging all my luggage. It was around 7am when the train arrived; I boarded and alighted two stops later transferring onto the airport line. The train was empty and I found four seats for me and my luggage. I stared out of the window viewing China for the last time; I was glad to leave China, however I wasn't glad that my travels were at an end.

Terminal three was a very impressive building; white floors, with a high orange roof, made the airport feel spacious, clean and futuristic. I'd arrived three hours early, however I was surprised to find check-in open. I joined the queue and, soon enough, I found myself facing a young Chinese lady in a yellow shirt. 'Two pieces of check-in luggage?' she asked, looking at my backpack and my suitcase. I shook my head slowly, looking down at the floor, as I asked if my suitcase could be taken on as hand luggage. Her eyes widened and with a, 'oh no', I knew that I wasn't going to win this fight; I opened the case showing her four, breakable, tea sets ... but her answer was still no. As a comprise she said that I could take the four tea sets on within four, smaller, individual bags; I thanked the lady and left the queue to re-pack my bag.

I placed my case on a wooden bench and opened it; with the four tea sets out I filled the case – not brilliantly I must admit – with anything I wouldn't need on the flight. I went back to the young Chinese lady who gave me an approving smile. The next problem was that my ticket only allowed one piece of 'check-in' luggage; forty-five pounds later and I saw both my backpack, and my suitcase, travel along a black conveyable and drop into the abyss. With a small rucksack on my back, and three bags within my hands, immigration, passport control and security was a little more difficult than normal however, after a while, I found myself within the airport lounge. The time was 9:30am; I still had nearly two hours before my flight was due to depart. Not only did I have the time but I had the cash to do some last minute shopping; I strolled through the shops uncomfortably, due to the amount of luggage, looking for something to spend my final Yuan on. Eighteen 'Kitkat Chunky White bars' later and I was left with 150 Yuan (£15) to change back into Pound Stirling.

I sat down, with the plane in view to my right; two rows back, and slightly to my left, sat a lady crying. I tried not to stare but I wondered why she was so upset; end of a good holiday? Leaving a loved one? I didn't know the answer however it made me realise that, out of all transport options, flights affect human emotion more than any other. Over the last year I've felt excited, nervous, sad and happy when boarding a flight; maybe this could explain why flying is more exhausting than any other transport method. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted with a boarding announcement; I waited for the queue to shorten before joining it. Once on the plane I found my seat occupied by a Chinese guy; I asked to see his ticket and informed him that he should be sitting two rows back. I placed my tea sets carefully within the luggage holdalls above and sat making sure that my belt was securely fastened. Next to me was a British bloke who'd spent his holiday within North Korea; as the plane prepared for take off I questioned him about the secret country finding it interesting and a potential future destination.

The plane got into the air and levelled out; it was at this point that the 'in-flight entertainment' came on and I browsed the 'new release films' to find 'The Kings Speech'. I plugged my ear phones into the socket provided and pushed play; the film was good though, with a lot of people talking it up, I was expecting more. Once the film had finished I immediately put 'Black Swan' (weird) on before watching 'Gulliver's Travels' (good film) and then 'The Tourist' (okay film, good twist at the end). By this time I'd been in the air for eight hours; with three hours left I was presented with my second meal ('sweet and sour' pork with rice … best Chinese meal I've had within the last two months) before watching 'Harry Potter: The Deathly Hallows part 1'.

I seemed to have timed it just right. Harry Potter finished just before the entertainment system was turned off and we made our decent. It was at this point that reality hit me ... I was home. I looked at the land below with 'job' being the only word coming into my head. Once in the airport I found myself viewing the 'connecting flights' noticing that New York, Washington and Toronto were all possible destinations. I took a deep breathe before following signs to the 'luggage pick-up' area, though I would have preferred to board one of those connecting flights. With every step reality was coming closer and closer; my year of travel had ended, I was broke and I would have to find a job. I picked my luggage up but, before leaving the luggage room, I paused looking at the roof. I've been on my own for so long, without the social pressures of getting a good job, owning a good house and portraying an image of success; for the last year seeing ancient structures, beautiful natural scenes and asking other travellers where they got the cheapest meal had been the most important aspects of my life and this would all change once I had walked through the door in front of me. I'm not afraid to say that I was scared, more scared than I'd been in a long time.

As I walked into the departure hall, with my luggage on a trolley, I saw my mum, sister and youngest brother waiting for me. I gave both my sister and mum a big hug before we started to chat like I'd never been away. My sister lead the way and I followed her to the car; she drove as we chatted, which lead to a rather strange route home (London to Derby ... via Southampton). I arrived home around 7pm. As I got out of the car nothing much had changed; my brother, sister in-law, and their three children greeted me, along with my dad, within the lounge and I gave them their presents (relieved to loose the weight). As I scanned the room I found photos, of me, that I'd taken from my trip. As I tried to remember where each shot had been taken a large lump within my throat started to appear; so many memories and so many places.

I finally went to bed around 11pm UK time, twenty-four hours after I'd got up. As I lay in bed I looked around noticing just how much I had to do. Unpacking, mail and editing my photos ... there was hours of work. Still this was a good thing; as I closed my eyes I realised that I had to keep busy or else I would just sit, eat chocolate, and reminisce. My one year of travel has been the best decision of my life and with 64,174 miles covered (that's the equivalent of driving around the world two and a half times!), it truly has been an epic journey. So this otter is no longer around the world, that much is true. However I can almost guarantee that I will be back around the world … the only question is when.

Toodle Pip!

I want to be ... an Olympian

Sunday 29^th May 2011

1 day left traveling the world.

MP3 track of the day: Twenty four hours - Athlete

Weather: It's been hoooot all day, and the smog has been unbearable.

Up early I went for 'first breakfast' before returning to my dorm. I got back around 9:30am and was surprised to see all, bar two people, out of bed. One guy, still asleep, was 'PC Man'; this is the guy who was on his computer, at 2am, a few nights ago and I've yet to see him without his PC on; he's on it all day, and all night, and rarely leaves the hostel. I didn't feel guilty, re-packing my bag, as 'PC man' tried to sleep and it took forty-five minutes to, eventually, be left with one large rucksack, one small rucksack, one hard suit case and one shopping bag. The suit case, shopping bag and small rucksack is all 'hand luggage'; I stared at it wondering how on earth I was going to persuade the airline to board me with this lot. Still this was a problem for another day; I left, went for 'second breakfast' (which consisted of cake) and walked into town.

My first target for today was the circular 'Beijing Concert Hall'. Designed like a large dome, water surrounded it allowing for a reflection to make it appear 'egg shaped'. I walked around the building taking many photos. Due to it being located within the centre of town the building didn't have any grounds, therefore it didn't take long to see all there was to see. Still, I wouldn't say that it was a disappointment; The 'Beijing Concert Hall' was very photogenic and it's certainly one of my favourite modern constructions that I've seen whilst travelling. I left the concert hall after thirty minutes and walked in an easterly direction. I could have entered an underground station within minutes, however I decided to walk to one half an hour a way. There were many reasons for my decision; firstly, if I'd boarded earlier, I would have had to change trains twice, to get to the station that I was planning on boarding from. Secondly I'm fed up of the 'underground squeeze' and thirdly you see a lot more when walking. After a quick 'pit stop', for a Sprite, I eventually made it to 'Dongan' station where I boarded a train heading north, on line five, before transferring to line thirteen and then, finally, transferring to line eight. It was a lot of hassle and I decided, once I'd seen the Olympic area, I'd walk back to my hostel as, I reckon, it would be quicker.

The underground trains, and stations, got posher and posher the nearer I got to the Olympic area. Whilst listening to my music, on the final leg of the journey, a boy tapped me on my shoulder. I took out my ear phones to find that him, and his brother, were with their mother on their way to the Olympic park. The mum wanted her children to practice their English which, considering I couldn't go anywhere, I agreed. Once the train stopped at its terminus – the northern part of the park – all four of us alighted and we continued chatting until I found some sculptures that I wanted to see. The mum said thank you and I replied by wishing them a good day. The park – which consisted of a long stone path, small gardens on each side, and a lake at the northern tip – would have been much nicer if it hadn't been for the sheer amount of smog. I haven't seen smog this bad before; tops of buildings disappeared into thick white clouds never to be seen again. I walked south along the path, heading into the gardens on either side when a sculpture came into view. It took a while to get to Beijing's 'Olympic Stadium' (i.e. the birds nest) which was impressive, though it lost its appeal due to the smog swirling around it. I didn't stay long; I took a few photos and then left the area holding my breath, eating an ice cream and heading south.

It took an hour to walk back to my hostel. I went in, put my camera within my locker, and went to the hostels restaurant for lunch. It's the first time that I've dined here and, I have to say, that it was good. I ordered a cheese burger and a … vanilla shake; when I saw, 'vanilla shake', on the menu my mind was cast back to Phnom Penh where vanilla shakes were my favourite drink. Once I'd received my drink, I was happy to find that it tasted exactly the same as the ones within Cambodia. Why hadn't I dined here before? I left the restaurant, determined to be back later for another vanilla shake, for a quick walk around Beijing. I returned around 5pm where I briefly went on the internet before grabbing a lovely, long, shower. I had tea, checked into my flight and went for an early night. Even though my flight doesn't depart until 11:15am I still want to arrive, at the airport, around 8am; I've got a lot of 'hand luggage begging' to do and, if I can't take it all on the plane, some emergency re-packing will have to happen. It's going to be weird seeing 'London' on the departure board.

Toodle Pip!

Shopping, acrobatics and a dead guy

Saturday 28^th May 2011

2 days left traveling the world.

MP3 track of the day: Show must go on - Queen

Weather: Without the usual breeze it's been hoooot all day.

I walked out of my hostel, around 8:30am, leaving my camera, and my mobile phone, within my locker. As I walked towards my local underground station I formed a 'plan of action' for the day; first of all I'll have breakfast, and then I'll go to see Chairman Mao before clothes shopping. I made my way to Tienanmen square where, before joining the horrendous queue to see Mr Mao, I went for a quick bite.

After breakfast I returned to the square and joined a queue consisting of Chinese looking people. I tried to blend in but my height, colour and the fact that I wasn't wearing a 'tour group baseball cap' gave me away. I stood as far from the guards as possible and never made eye contact. The queue circled Mao's mausoleum which was a square building, located within the middle of Tienanmen Square; the queue moved at a steady pace and it didn't take long to reach security. 'Camera!' a stern female guard asked me; I shook my head and I was allowed to proceed into the mausoleums gardens. As the queue edged forward I studied the gardens liking the way the red flowers – constructed to form a pattern – were surrounded by grass and fern trees blocked the outside world from view. Once inside the first hall had a white marble sculpture, of Mr Mao, sitting on a seat with his legs crossed and flowers all around him. I could have purchased a yellow rose, to lay at his feet, but I didn't. Unlike 'Uncle Ho', Mao's final resting place was on the ground floor, in a separate hall, behind said sculpture. With my hat off, head bowed and a sad expression upon my face, I went into the chamber trying not to laugh. Finally Chairman Mao came into view; he was lined in a similar coffin to Ho Chi Minh, with a communist red flag drooped over his legs. Apparently the Vietnamese helped the Chinese entomb him. I have to say that he's a lot shorter than I thought he would be, and he did look a little plastic. I slowly walked by and then, once past, quickened my pace and left the mausoleum through the back entrance.

Once again I found myself on the underground; this time, however, I was heading to a station called 'Yong'anli' where the silk market could be found. The name, silk market, isn't quite suited for the five storey clothes complex I found myself in. Exit 'B', from the underground station, entered into the heart of the market and, only three stores in, I was accosted by a short, Chinese lady, asking me to 'buy something'. I found myself within the basement level, where shoes played the dominant role. This lady had one pair of red, and one pair of blue, converse that I liked very much; she said that she had my size and so, as her sister ran off to their warehouse, we made small talk focusing on where I've been. It took an age for her sister to return but, within her hands, were two pairs of converse my size. I asked how much and then the lady started the – what was to come – usual speech of 'these are real leather, well made and retail at £70. But, just for me, I'll discount them to £50'. I smiled and started to walk away but she blocked my move, calculator in hand, asking me what was my final price. I typed '£5' into the calculator and she frowned asking for £45. I continued to lace up my shoes and, as I did, the price kept falling until we got to £6.50. She was a really nice person, and we'd laughed a lot, therefore I agreed to purchase both pairs for £13. She frowned at me saying that I was a 'hard bargainer', to which I suggested she go to Cambodia for bargaining lessons.

I continued to walk past hundreds of stalls all selling the same items; ladies would grab my arm and shout 'look in my shop', or 'want bag' or some other call. I would either oblige, say no or walk by giving a witty remark. In a couple of stores I was prevented from leaving, by the saleswoman continually shadowing my moves. Now, you would have though that I would have hated this experience … but I found myself loving it. Some, of the saleswomen, were a little rude but most were up for a laugh and I had a great time joking as I shopped. I walked down many isles, and up many floors, eventually spending £150 on:

3 – pairs of converse (1x red, 1x blue and 1x black and white)

1 – pair of trainers (white)

1 – belt

1 – jacket

1 – polo shirt

2 – shirts

5 – beanie hats

1 – bag

Everything above was a 'designer label', though I would question there authenticity. I had a great time but, as I checked my wallet, I had £4 remaining. Spending a little more than I wanted I left the market, satisfied with my purchases, and took the underground back to my hostel. Once back I went to the local bank to withdraw £40, before having lunch and then waiting for my acrobatics pick-up. The time was 5pm and my pick-up was due within thirty minutes. At 5:30pm, on the dot, the receptionist tapped me on my shoulder indicating that my pick-up had arrived. I, and another British bloke called Andy, found ourselves within a mini-van being driven through the crowded streets of Beijing. It took an hour to get to the theatre; the driver pointed to a building, on the opposite side of the road, indicating that it was said theatre. With an hour to kill Andy and I wandered the surrounding streets chatting about our individual trips; time flew and we soon found ourselves, at the theatres entrance, fifteen minutes before the performance started. If we'd known that there was no seat allocation we would have entered earlier; as it was the theatre wasn't full and we still managed to get good seats ... though they were off to the left a little.

We continued to chat until the lights went down and a golden robbed figure appeared on stage. It would appear that the performance told a story - as well as being full of acrobatics - though what the story was I had no idea, as it was told in Chinese. The golden figure disappeared, through a trap door, and a clown – who, I think, was supposed to be a narrator – seemed to be continually on stage as each act came and went. The show was fantastic; it started with a dance routine before moving onto human balancing acts. I sat captivated as performers balanced on top of one another using only one hand. Other acts included a evil looking dude who 'face changed', people flipping through rings, people balancing on rings, a juggler and a group of girls playing with a cone thing which they threw up into the air, and caught on a piece of string. The final act was the most impressive; the stage doors opened and out came a huge metal ball. Motor bikes would be driven into said ball and they would do loops within. At one point four bikes were whizzing around, almost hitting each other. As the entertainers came on stage, for their final round of applause, I was satisfied with my end to my tour. The show had been stunning and only the audience (plus, as the juggler was on-stage, I could see some female acrobats practising to the left of a stage screen) had put a slight dampener on the event, with their photo taking and chatting. Still I didn't let it bother me; I exited the theatre wishing the show had gone on for longer than an hour. Once back at the hostel I went on the internet – to find the F1 qualifying results – before retiring for an early night.

So tomorrow is my final day around the world. I thought about making it manic, however I quite like the idea of a lazy day. I think I'll have a lie-in before packing my bags and, in the evening, I'll have a shower but, apart from that, I haven't got anything else planned. Current thoughts, on how to spend the day, include:

- crying

- eating lots and lots of cake ... before crying

- or going out for a walk – sightseeing Beijing's Olympic buildings – before visiting a park

I think I'll decided tomorrow morning.

Toodle Pip!

Palaces, Dim Sum and Mr Bean

Friday 27^th May 2011

3 days left traveling the world.

MP3 track of the day: Night swimming - REM

Weather: It's been smoggy, and hot, all day; however no threat of rain and no high humidity either.

As I peered out of my dorms window the weather seemed to be dry but smoggy. Once ready I went to reception requesting information; as I approached the lady was on the phone but she pointed to an underground map, at a circle along 'line four', which was described as the 'Summer Palace' stop. I thanked her and left; as I studied my own underground map I noticed that the restaurant – serving 'Dim Sum' - was also situated along 'line four' though, in the opposite direction. I decided to enter my local underground station and make my way south, for a 'Dim Sum' breakfast, before back-tracking north to the palace.

It took half an hour to reach 'Xidan' underground station; this is where I would find Beijing's financial district and, more importantly, the restaurant that I required. As I exited huge skyscrapers loomed above and people, in suits, were walking in all directions to, I presume, their work. The restaurant I wanted was located within a shopping complex; as I approached the lights were off and a '10:00 – 19:00' sign was erected on the front doors. There was a guard outside and so I showed him a piece of paper – with the restaurants name on - to which he nodded in confirmation, but he also pointed to the opening times. It was 9am therefore I wasn't going to wait an hour for the shopping centre to open; yet again I found myself stunned with Beijing's work hours. I scoured the area for somewhere else to dine and, as I surveyed, the only places open were a Costa Coffee and a McDonald's. I visited McDonald's for more pineapple goodness (though, after eating so many, it's starting to loose it's shine).

I soon found myself back on 'line four' travelling north. The fifteenth stop was the one I wanted; I sat down and read about the 'Summer Palace' which, in reality, is a few temples located within a huge park. Two-thirds of the park's area is covered by water and hills form a wall at the northern end. The buildings have only recently been rebuilt after they were destroyed, by western troops, in 1902 after the boxer rebellion was crushed.

The palace entrance was located close to the underground exit; I decided to purchase the 'all exclusive' ticket which allowed entry into the grounds as well as all the temples. I walked in, chose a path, and followed it. The stone path felt like a trench that ran through the middle of a hill covered in coniferous trees; it was lovely, and cool, therefore I followed it until I reached a wall. Behind said wall sat a small lake surrounded by three temples, all with connecting walkways. The buildings, and walkways, were made out of wood and mainly consisted of the colours red and blue; the covered walkways were very welcome but, due to their width, getting through the crowds proved difficult. I didn't stay long and soon I found myself heading south. As I turned a corner I stopped suddenly; I witnessed thousands of banners fluttering in the breeze. There was a temple complex, to my right, and it's here that battle commenced; tour groups – lead by the standard bearer with a 'hands-free' microphone – would attack from different positions and a lot of running, pushing (with the use of elbows) and shouting occurred. I didn't stay long; I backed away from the conflict, took a photo and headed to the lake. I went through the baseball cap, same t-shirt wearing crowds – throwing a few elbows of my own – before I got to the edge of 'Kunming Lake'. The crowds were still large and it took a long walk south for the amount of people to thin.

Looking at a map I noticed that I could walk around the entire lake; this, I hoped, would take a couple of hours meaning that I could visit the main temples around lunchtime. The first part of the walk consisted of beach trees with a stone path running through the middle; the lake was to my right with Chinese bridges crossing where it was narrow. Boats, carrying copious amounts of Chinese tourists, sailed up and down. Right at the southern part of the lake stood an old Chinese bridge with a difference; it was curved in design but it had been heightened to allow bigger vessels to pass under. The stairs both up, and down, were almost vertical and, instead of climbing up myself, I crossed the lake using another bridge where I was able to take photographs.

I found myself at the south-western tip of the lake. Heading north-west the crowds disappeared and I was, almost, on my own. The trees had changed to ferns and it was lovely to be able to walk, surrounded by nature, without disturbance. It didn't last long; I soon found myself back at the northern end of the lake and, due to the amount of people becoming denser, I knew that I was coming back into the touristy areas. Before climbing up a small hill, to the main temples, I had a look around the less visited 'outer temples' where nothing new was discovered. The temples were still made of wood, they were still red and they still had the ancient style Chinese roofs. I moved quickly and I soon found myself, surrounded by Chinese tourists, next to 'Empress Dowager Cixi' marble boat.

'Empress Dowager Cixi' entered the imperial court at the age of fifteen. She soon became Emperor Zianfeng's favourite concubine and bore him a son. The emperor died (1861) when the boy was still an infant and so the empress claimed power, which she never handed back. For the next twenty-five years the empress bled the country dry, ultimately resulting in the fall of her dynasty and the occupation of large areas of China. Not only did she spend copious amounts of money, on releasing ten thousand birds for each of her birthdays, but she would order 108-course dinners and spent funds, designated to modernise the Chinese military fleet, on her marble boat. Shortly after the boats completion, China suffered huge naval defeats to Japan.

The white marble boat was okay, though it looked as though it could do with a good clean; it also seemed to be based on an American steam boat, but with a Chinese influence where the upper decks were concerned. As a Chinese girl pushed in front of me, to pose for a photo, I left and went to the main temples. As I'd paid to view said temples I went in, though I wasn't really in the mood. 'Templed out' I quickly looked at the red wooden buildings, focusing more on the view over the lake. The smog prevented seeing the southern end of the lake but you could tell - in Empresses Cixi's time – that it would have been an impressive view. The time was 1:30pm and, even though it was lunch, the amount of tourists were still above what I would call an 'okay level'; therefore, after four hours of wondering, I left the park the way I'd entered.

I found myself back on 'line four' heading south. Once again I was within Beijing's financial district and, this time, the shopping centre was open. I made my way to the basement level where I found many food outlets serving many dishes from around the world. I found myself in front of a rather posh restaurant; I showed the waiter, on the door, a piece of paper – with the restaurants name, written in Chinese, on - and he gestured that I'd arrived. Before asking for a table I requested to see a menu; as I flicked through the prices seemed okay but I couldn't find 'Dim Sum'. I opened my guidebook, showed the waiter what I wanted, and he flicked through the menu and pointed to an item that looked right. I was then shown to a table before the waiter went to complete my request; as he left I started to read about 'Dim Sum'.

'Dim Sum' is the name given to a breakfast made up of small pastry balls. The balls can contain many different fillings and are placed within a circular wooden box. As my order arrived the box lid was opened and five pastry balls could be seen. I picked up my chop sticks, placed a pastry ball between them, and inserted it into my mouth. As I chewed the pastry packaging split and the filling poured out; at first I chewed quickly but then, as the taste hit me, I chewed more slowly. It was disgusting. Surprisingly it wasn't bland, though I wished it was; the filling tasted like sweet bean curd which made me feel ill. There was so much filling that my facial expression changed from delight, to horrified, very quickly. A few Chinese women, sat across from me, were watching and they laughed. I was finally able to swallow and, as I did, the waiter came past to see how I was getting on. When he noticed that one pastry was missing he smiled at me and I smiled back; as he left my faced returned to the disgusted look that was apparent only moments ago. What was I going to do? I sat within a posh restaurant with another four of these pastries that I knew I couldn't eat. At that point I asked myself one very important question; what would Mr Bean do? I started to looking around for handbags, plant pots and plates but none could be found. Maybe this 'Dim Sum' was a required taste that needed time to get use to, I popped another into my mouth realising that it wasn't. The ladies, once again, laughed at my facial expressions and, after I'd consumed the item, the waiter returned pleased to see another pastry missing. I couldn't eat any more; when my waiter had returned to 'door duty' I summoned a waitress demanding the bill. I paid quickly, picked up my stuff, and walked out of the restaurant. The waiter smiled at me as I exited and I thanked him in return; as he turned, to see how I'd got on with my meal, I ran up the escalator in a very Mr Bean fashion.

I was still hungry and, with a bean curd taste in my mouth, I needed something to eat. I dare not go back into the food court in case the waiter spotted me; once outside I saw the Costa Coffee, and McDonald's, from this morning. I couldn't eat any more fast food and so I went to Costa Coffee for an expensive sandwich, cake and a hot chocolate (though, due to spending so much, I did receive a wicked Costa rubix cube). As the 'Dim Sum' taste finally started to disappear I decided that I'd had enough with Chinese food; from now on western food only, though my guidebook states that Beijing has a good Thai restaurant. I can't wait to get home to have a decent Chinese take-away.

I got back to my hostel around 5pm; I sat down and browsed the internet, for a short while, before a Chinese lady approached. She was the new 'acrobatics booking agent' and it took little time to sort my ticket out. It was guaranteed that I would get a pick-up, tomorrow; however it was scheduled two hours before the show. The only other disappointment was that the show was only an hour long; still it's not the quantity it's the quality, I thought to myself. After, I had a long shower and an early night; I'm going to leave my camera at the hostel tomorrow, and visit 'Mr Mao' before going shopping. I want to get some shoes, a few shirts, some beanie hats and maybe another belt. After this, the acrobatics. It's still all go, go, go here!

Toodle Pip!

Storms coming

Thursday 26^th May 2011

4 days left traveling the world.

MP3 track of the day: Singing in the rain - Gene Kelly

Weather: The day started smoggy, with a hint of a blue sky. Beijing was as hot as normal, however a cooling breeze blew. At 2:30pm the skies darkened and, only an hour later, thunder and lighting erupted; this eruption was closely followed by buckets of rain falling throughout the afternoon, and into the evening.

I was up earlier than expected; first action for today was to find 'dim sum' for breakfast … again. Once again I went to reception and, this time, I showed the lady a Chinese translation, of what I wanted, instead of a picture. She went all red and apologised for the mix-up yesterday; she said that 'dim sum' was a southern breakfast and I would struggle to find it in northern China. It's ironic that I can find pizza, Thai food and even a Canadian restaurant and yet, I cannot find food served only a few hundred miles away. As a sort of compromise she asked if I liked cake; is the Pope Catholic, I thought to myself, and she began to explain where the cake shop, I visited yesterday, was located. I thanked her for the information and went in that direction. Yet again Beijing's 'opening times' amazed me; yesterday's cake shop didn't open until 9am and, here I was, at 8am. It mattered not; I walked by and went into another cake shop further down the street. The cake – a chocolate cake – was creamy and tasty, though a little small. The hot chocolate tasted like hot milk but, the price, was very cheap. Once again my taste buds weren't set on fire however, given the location and the price, I may end up coming back. I continued walking south until I made it to my first attraction, Jingshan Park.

Located only a few hundred yards from the Forbidden City, Jingshan Park provided the perfect location to get an overview. Once I'd paid the five Yuan entrance fee I noticed that the parks grounds were a lot bigger than I first thought; most of the gardens were covered in pine trees where stone paths worked their way between them. People were playing cards, exercising or chatting to friends which made the park look intriguing; I hadn't the time to wander as I'd come for one reason, and one reason only.

The path, up the hill, had been well cared for and, though slightly out of breathe, I found myself at the top in no time. Along the ridge of the hill were five buildings; a main temple was erected in the middle with four Pavilions, two to each side, making the whole area symmetrical. I'd climbed up to the temple and looked around before walking to each pavilion. From my elevated position I could see how big the Forbidden City was; it looked much bigger, from up here, than it felt walking around it yesterday. I took many photos, cursing a little because the smog prevented seeing all the way to the cities southern gate. I didn't stay long and, at around 10am, I started to descend heading south. Getting down the hill didn't take too long and I soon found myself within a beautiful rose garden; in-between the many pine trees were beds of roses, all out in full bloom. I took many photos, of the flowers, trying to capture a creature retrieving pollen. There were signs, asking people not to walk on the beds, but they were ignored; a park attendant would periodically shout, asking the Chinese public not to pose for photos whilst standing within the flower beds. I would occasionally step off the path, and up to said flower bed, but the attendant seemed okay with that. As I was about to leave I noticed a woman, in the middle of a rose garden, posing for a photo. As I looked at her I, very quickly, came to the conclusion that no matter how many beautiful roses surrounded her, she was still butt ugly. Only if the flowers covered her entire body, and face, could she look anything near normal.

Once out of the parks southern gate, the forbidden city faced me; half tempted to go back in I walked around the perimeter (once again getting a good idea of the scale) before, forty minutes later, arriving at Tienanmen square. Once through security I walked out, onto the square, to see a Chinese flag flying with guards posted at each side. There were many tourists, within this forty hectare square (which, if I'm being picky, is actually a rectangle), but there were also many guards. I took photos of the square, and the surrounding buildings, with one eye on the security. The square, designed for national celebrations, is more known for the bloody demonstrations that have occurred within the twentieth Century, most notably the 1989 'popular dissent' protest in which, possibly, thousands of people were killed. As I walked I tried to imagine the scene of carnage; if the current metal barriers were in place, twenty-two years ago, it would have made it extremely difficult to avoid gun fire. A cold shiver traveled down my spine and I quickly changed thought, by focusing on photographing the 'Great Hall of the People' and the 'Museum of Chinese History'. I went past Chairman Mao's memorial hall reading the conditions of entry; just like 'Uncle Ho's' place no cameras were allowed in and so I moved on, deciding to come back later. I finished photographing the square around 11am. I was glad to leave; the amount of armed personnel, on duty, freaked me out and I soon found myself, within KFC, ordering a large coke. Whilst sipping away I worked out how to get to the final attraction of the day. I finished my drink, and head south in the direction of the Temple of Heaven.

Beijing's a funny city; position yourself within Tienanmen Square and walk, in any direction, for around twenty minutes and the urban-scape seems to become less grand, and more run down. It's because of this that Beijing feels small; wonder away from the main tourist area for too long and you'll soon find yourself in areas that don't look inviting. This was true as I walked south towards the 'Temple of Heaven'. I'd walked south for around thirty minutes before turning left; my map showed a large park but all I could see were run down, very communist, residential blocks. I quickened my pace and, after an hour of walking, I finally made it to the southern entrance of the temple. The temple had northern, and western, entrances however my guidebook said to walk to the southern gate as then you'll be visiting the buildings in the correct order. Entry was thirty-five Yuan, which I gladly paid. There was another audio guide service however, this time, I rejected the offer. I had my ticket stamped as I walked through an old, red, Chinese gate. The complex was surrounded by acres of woodland and, on either side of where I stood, thousands of pine trees blocked my line of sight. In front of me was a long, rectangular, stone path that lead to another gate. Once through a round altar could be seen; surrounded by a circular marble wall, with many gates, a three tiered round altar stood looming above me. Each tier represented man, earth and heaven, in that order; in the centre, of the top tier, was a small stone circle which, was believed, to be the middle of the middle kingdom – the very centre of Earth.

Continuing north the next structure was a circular wooden building called the 'Imperial Vault of Heaven'. This was a beautiful temple which stood upon a square white marble platform. Both the shape of the building (circle) and the platform (square) were symbolic as a circle represented heaven and the square Earth (thus, at this temple, this is where both realms met). The temple's roof was blue and its sides red.

Surrounding the temple was the 'Whispering Wall'. Apparently the wall was constructed in such a way so that sounds could travel around it. It is said that, if one person whispers into the wall the sound will travel all the way around. As I walked hordes of Chinese tourists were shouting at the wall before pressing their ear to it; I was about to politely remind them that the wall was called the 'Whispering Wall' but then I thought better of it.

Eventually I made it to the main event. The 'Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests' is what its name suggests. Kind of a 'bigger brother', to the 'Imperial Vault of Heaven', the two buildings were identical in external design but the insides were vastly different. This temple had four compass point pillars represent the four seasons, which were then enclosed by twelve outer pillars (representing the months of the year). This is the temple where the Emperor would visit, once a year, to pray for a good harvest. The Emperor, being known as a 'Son of Heaven', was the only person eligible to pray for such benefits. With the main buildings done I went in search of something yummy; even though the clouds had drawn in the temperature was still high therefore I felt thirsty. Just like yesterday I went for an ice cream, the only difference being that this one was a peach ice lolly, and it tasted good. As I walked I ate my ice lolly quickly, for fear of melting. I walked into the wooded grounds, of the complex, to find the 'outer buildings'. On the east side stood the kitchens (used for sacrificial animal killings) but, alas, they were closed. I quickly transferred to the west side where I walked through my second rose garden of the day (which was just as beautiful as the first). Next to the rose garden was supposed to be the 'garden of a thousand plants' however, once in, it looked quite over grown and unkept. I enjoyed walking down the stone paths, moving tree branches out of my way and side-stepping broken cobbles but I didn't spent long. I exited through a wooden canopy – with vines dripping off it – and went to an outer palace. This place was used by the Emperor for three days, before the ritual for a good harvest commenced. Add additional entrance fee had to be paid to view, therefore I declined and left the park.

Once again it was late afternoon and I'd only eaten a slice of cake and an ice cream all day. Once in town I went to the first restaurant I could find – by-passing the Beijing Duck – and had something to eat. It was at this time that the clouds had drawn in and the sky was becoming darker; as I exited the sound of thunder could be heard and so I quickened my pace to the nearest subway station. I made it in before a torrent of rain erupted. Whilst on the train I decided not to visit Chairman's Mao's memorial today as, a) it was raining and b) it closes at 11am every day. I had planned on visiting the Summer Palace tomorrow but, if the weather is as bad as it is now, I may change my plans by visiting 'Mao' and then going shopping. As I've already visited 'Uncle Ho' I wondered if I visited 'Mao', and the Russian bloke, (i.e. seeing all three) whether I would get a sticker … or a free Big Mac. I didn't have time to evaluate the possibility; at that point the train's doors opened and I exited.

Once out of the underground the rain was bombarding Beijing; I erected my umbrella and started on the short walk to my hostel. The time was only 4pm however, with the rain falling, I wasn't going to venture back out. I sat down and started to write my blog. I was interrupted, but in a nice way, twice; firstly a couple from Quebec City chatted to me about my time there (ho hum, I wish I was back in Quebec City … I think I would have been there about this time last year) and then, the receptionist from this morning, sat down next to me with three pieces of paper. Whilst I'd been out she'd scoured the internet and found three places that I could eat 'Dim Sum'; she’d written the directions, in both Chinese and English, and smiled at me as she gave me the information. I couldn't believe it; I smiled back and thanked her. Like I've said before, Chinese hostel staff are amazing.

Once my blog was complete I found out that I would receive an acrobatics ticket, for this Saturday, tomorrow and that I would get a free lift there and back. All was going well and so I went for a shower before an early night. Tomorrow is weather dependent, but I'll certainly be trying 'Dim sum' after all my receptionists work.

Toodle Pip!

Forbidden City

Wednesday 25^th May 2011

5 days left traveling the world.

MP3 track of the day: Take back the city – Snow Patrol

Weather: Blue skies over Beijing; did you hear what I said? Blue skies! Accompanying said skies was a cool breeze, which was most welcoming considering the sun had been beating down all day.

With no alarm set I found myself, trying to get up, at around 8am. I was still tired and yet, I knew that I had a busy day ahead of me; even outside my eye lids felt heavy and it took until breakfast to, eventually, wake myself up. I had planned on eating 'dim sum' (a traditional Chinese breakfast) however I couldn't find the restaurant my hostel had recommended; in the end I went into a small café where, unsurprisingly, I ordered a slice of cake and a hot chocolate. It wasn't long before a thick slice of 'banana, with caramel, cake' was sat in front of me accompanied by a hot chocolate. The cake was a little dry, but pleasant enough; the hot chocolate was nothing special. If I cannot find 'dim sum' tomorrow then I think I'll pop back as the price wasn't too bad. Once I'd settled my bill I continued to walk towards the Forbidden City.

It took a further thirty minutes to reach the Forbidden Cities northern gate. I purchased my entrance ticket and, unusually, I also paid for an audio guide. The British / American couple, I met yesterday, had recommended the guide as it was GPS controlled; this meant that you could walk freely, within the city, and the guide would follow you, instead of you following it … very handy if you see a big tour group coming. The guide was a blue rectangular box which hung lightly from a cord around my neck; a wire was plugged into said box and, on the other end, was a single ear piece. As I walked through the northern gate I heard my electronic tour guide speak for the first time; a female voice told me all about the gate before telling me what was coming up. Not only was the voice clear but the information was also interesting. At previous Chinese attractions any written information had been translated poorly, making it difficult for me, to understand, what the author was trying to say. A lot of times I would give up reading mid-way, but not with the audio guide; as soon as she started to speak I would find a shady spot to listen as I didn't fancy moving, in case I would trigger another passage before she'd finished what she was saying.

The time was around 10am and I knew the tour groups would be at full strength. I looked at the map, on the front of my audio guide, (which also told you where you were, at any given time, by a red light flashing at the corresponding spot on the map) and decided to cover the west, and east, wings before venturing into the touristy inner city. I hoped that the wings would take a couple of hours, therefore I'd hit the centre around lunch time. As I walked west I followed the stone paths surrounded by red walls and golden yellow Chinese roofs; the sky was bright blue which must be a first in the polluted capital of China.

On the 6^th November 2010 I was sat in my hostel, within Christchurch, waiting for my flight to Auckland. On TV was a documentary about the Chinese Expo site in Shanghai; in particular the documentary focused on the China Pavilion and the problem of making it look red. Until watching this programme I had no idea that, if you paint something as big as a building in one shade of red, the human eye, after a while, will perceive the colour to be green. I remember them going into great detail on why this occurs ... but that's not important. Why have I brought this up then? Well, within the documentary, the people responsible for making the China Pavilion visited the Forbidden City to learnt it's secrets. Even though all the buildings are painted red the Forbidden City doesn't look green when you gaze upon it; this is because its painted in many different shades of red and, as I walked around, I could see both light, and dark, reds.

Eventually I made it to the west wing; my audio guide sprung into life and explained that there were six palaces dedicated for the Emperors concubines. Some Emperors had more concubines than days within the year and, whilst at first, I thought this must have been ace I then began to imagine the nagging. Here the audio guide focused on life within the city and even told stories of betrayal, espionage and murder. I wandered freely looking at the many buildings and animal statues. Within some of the windows bed chambers, artefacts and living quarters could be seen however, the glass was dirty and the sun low in the sky; I had to put my face against the glass to be able to see in.

There were loads of hidden passages and I made my way through, seeing all six palaces, and keeping away from the minimal amount of tourists I found. After an hour of aimless wandering I found myself at the northern gardens, near to the northern gate. I was thirsty and I regretted not bringing anything to drink with me; as I approached a store, I prepared for a ludicrous price, ( I couldn't leave the city, for refreshments, as I would have to buy a new ticket to re-enter), only to be pleasantly surprised to find that a bottle of coke cost 40p. I by-passed hordes of tourists, fixed within the centre palaces, and made my way to the west side. Six palaces were also found, erected in the exact 2x3 pattern, as within the east wing; these were used by the emperor, the empress and the crown prince. As the emperor slept with both empress and concubines children from both were possible. If the empress was unable to provide a son then a concubines son could, if the emperor chose, become the crown prince. The crown prince would eventually become the emperor when the current one died and, unlike the British monarchy, the eldest child did not automatically become the next emperor. As you can tell competition could be fierce and my audio guide told stories of empresses killing concubines, and their offspring, to remain in power. It was pretty sad and some children had to be brought up in complete secrecy.

The west wing had also taken an hour and so the time was midday. Before entering the 'inner city' there was a special exhibition, costing ten Yuan (£1), set-up within some outer chambers. I don't like it when additional entry tickets are required but, as the cost was only £1, I purchased a ticket with little fuss. I was glad that I did. The 'treasures of the Forbidden City' themselves were interesting (the jade carvings were very impressive) but it was the reduced amount of tourists, allowing for clear photographs, that was the main benefit. I wondered slowly around the perimeter of the buildings, taking photos, before viewing the treasures at a faster pace.

After another hour I found myself at the western gates to the inner city; there was another special exhibition, costing ten Yuan, focusing on clocks. Again I paid to go in but, unless you have an unhealthy interest in time pieces, it wasn't worth the cost (though the level of craftsmanship was astonishing). I had hoped, being 1pm, that the tour groups would have retired for lunch, but no. The hordes were still heavy and moving around the 'inner city' became frustrating. It was easy to see why the crowds had congregated around here; unlike the palaces in both wings – where their perimeter walls made the area feel claustrophobic – the palaces here were surrounded by huge marble platforms, with stairs leading down to massive cobbled courtyards below. The amount of room dedicated to these important palaces was staggering; tourists, on the opposite side of the courtyard, began to look small. Before venturing forth I purchased an ice cream; my chosen ice cream had been made from frozen peas and I'd seen it advertised, yesterday, on the bus. As I bit into it, the coolness hit me instantaneously but, as for taste, nothing ventured forth. Seriously I cannot describe what the ice cream tasted of as there wasn't a taste; yet again the food, within my mouth, was bland.

Along the western edges, of the palace complexes, were exhibitions which held little interest; it was the buildings themselves that were the main event. With their golden roofs and red pillars they dominated their white marble platforms; my audio guide kept me in the past as I viewed each building knowing what it was used for. I did look in the buildings however, with the crowds congregated in huge mobs around each doorway, I didn't look for long. I continued south through giant gates, crossing huge courtyards, and up many marble steps taking in the splendour and beauty of the area. I found myself, at the southern entrance around 3pm, five hours after I'd entered. Here I found a small river with five arched bridges; each bridge was made out of white marble and most were full of tour groups heading north. I ventured both east and west to see further free exhibits before returning to the southern gate. Before visiting I'd thought that the Forbidden City may have been a 'white elephant'; however I was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't and I'd loved every minute. The Forbidden City isn't as good as the Great Wall, or the Terracotta Warriors, but it's not far off.

The time was 3pm and, so far today, I'd eaten one ice cream and a slice of cake; I was starving and so I went to find food. I went south not stopping at Tian'anmen Square; I went past a KFC and didn't pause. I had a specific place in mind. Within my guidebooks '31 things not to miss' was trying Beijing Duck; as I read my guidebook it described Beijing Duck as crispy duck from home. I love crispy duck; I love the pancakes you wrap the duck in, I love the sauce you dip the pancake into and, in fact, it's one of my favourite foods. Starving I found the 'crispy duck' restaurant, that my guidebook recommended …however it was closed for lunch. It's 3:30pm! Why is a restaurant, in a capital city, closed! I left, still starving, heading back past KFC to another restaurant recommended. This one would be open within thirty minutes and so I waited; I purchased a bottle of coke and sat on a street bench watching the world go by. Once open I ventured into the restaurant and asked for a menu. On the first page was 'Beijing duck' but, unfortunately, it was £23 and you had to buy a whole duck, you couldn't order half. Annoyed I left and, by chance, I found another Beijing Duck restaurant close by. Here I could purchase duck for £12; it was a little expensive however it was 'a thing to do' within Beijing. I ordered my meal and waited.

I waited guessing that the duck wouldn't taste better than what I could get at home, though I did hope it would be similar. As my meal arrived the sauce, vegetables and the pancakes looked the same but the meat wasn't shredded, or dry. In fact the meat was slimey and swimming in grease; still I placed the meat within the pancake, dipped it into the sauce, and started to chew. As I devoured my face dropped; not only was the duck slimey but the sauce was bitter and I was gutted. To make matters worse, not only had I paid £12 for a meal that I could get, at home, cheaper and more delicious but the portion of duck was small meaning that, after eating, I didn't feel full. I thanked the waitress, for taking my money, and crossed the road to McDonalds. I made it back to my hostel around 7pm where I tried to book an acrobatic show for my final day of travel (Sunday). I wanted an afternoon performance - as I would need an early night for my early start the following day – however, as the lady typed something into her computer, she said that there was only one performance per day, at 7:30pm. I therefore changed my mind and asked for a Saturday performance; after a little more typing, and a phone call, the receptionist asked if 'I could go tomorrow?'. No was my reply and after a further few phone calls, and conversations, still no ticket. Time was ticking on and so I sat, with my PC, and asked the receptionist to come over to me when the problem was resolved. Finally a, very glum looking, receptionist came over; apparently the company, my hostel use, don't like doing weekend performances. The lady was phoning around other companies and said that she would let me know, if they could get me a ticket, tomorrow afternoon. I sat down and searched the web before retiring to bed. Tomorrow is another long day; firstly I want to head up the Jingshan hill - to get an overview of the Forbidden City - before visiting Tian'anmen Square. Hopefully then it'll be lunch and, after, I want to visit the Temple of Heaven. The attractions shouldn't take long but the travelling, between sights, might do.

Time is short and, this time next week, I'll be at home. I don't want to go home; Russia's so close. One more week … please!

Toodle Pip!

P.S. Yesterday, I forgot to include my weekly round up; my average spent has gone up to £30.62 but, when you think how much shopping I've done, it's not bad at all. There's nothing else new to report.

The Great Wall's great!

Tuesday 24^th May 2011

6 days left traveling the world.

MP3 track of the day: Another brick in the wall – Pink Floyd

Weather: Smoggy and hot, but with a strong breeze once upon the wall.

My alarm went off at 6am, however I didn't get out of bed. I stretched, and I closed my eyes, giving myself an extra fifteen minutes. Everything within my dorm creeks; the door creeks, my locker door creeks and even my bed creeks. I tried to get ready as quietly as possible but I'm sure I woke at least one person (and, if it was the guy opposite me, I wouldn't have cared as he was on his laptop until 2am last night… the light, from the screen, was shone right into my face). Once ready I made my way to the underground station that I'd used yesterday; the bus, to the wall, departed from a bus station located three underground stops away. One thing I always forget, when asking for directions, is which underground exit - if relevant - is needed. Asian underground stations are huge and, therefore, have many exits labelled alphabetically; I stood looking at an information board noticing that 'bus station' was labelled under exit 'B'. I still wasn't sure if the bus station was where I needed to go, but I thought it would be the best bet. Once at surface level I showed my Chinese directions to the first man, in a uniform, that I could find; he pointed to where hundreds of buses were turning right but, before heading in that direction, I hunted for breakfast.

I arrived, at the bus station, at 7:45am and found the stop for the '936' (the service that I required). Waiting were a group of Chinese and a 'father-daughter' couple from New Zealand; I chatted to the Kiwi's and we shared 'Great Wall' information to make sure that we had both been told the same thing. Apparently the Kiwi's had been told that you could only board the '936' if you had a valid 'Beijing travel card'. I hadn't. Fortunately their cards were low on funds and so we all headed off to the nearest kiosk. Due to construction work the nearest kiosk was a fair distance way and, once there, I handed over forty Yuan (the trip to the wall costs sixteen Yuan each way) to cover my forth coming trip and give me additional money for Beijing's underground. What I didn't know – until I got back to the bus stop – was that when purchasing a 'travel card', for the first time, the first twenty Yuan was a deposit, therefore I hadn't put enough money, on my card, to cover my journey. The time was 8:15am and, with the bus scheduled to arrive at 8:30am, I didn't have enough time to go back. I, along with four other tourists, decided to risk it and try to pay with cash.

8:30am came and went. I was starting to get impatient as it would take two hours to get to the wall, therefore it wouldn't leave long, to look around, before catching the penultimate bus back to Beijing (scheduled to leave at 2pm). At 9am the '936' finally swung into the bay; the driver, who didn't look to be in a particular hurry, casually opened the door and lit a cigarette. I boarded the bus and was glad to find that cash was allowed. I paid with cash leaving my travel card for the return journey.

Just like the food the scenery was bland; trees, mixed with buildings and smog, filled the view for hours. I was sat – rather cramped as leg room was non-existent – next to a lady from Bangladesh; she was a painter and her husband, sitting in the row in front, was an architect. She seemed to have travelled quite extensively and so we swapped stories for most of the journey. Eventually the early start caught up with me and I could feel my eye-lids becoming heavy; with the Bangladeshi lady already asleep, and the bland terrain outside, I too closed my eyes. Time rolled on and the bus made many stops. After two hours we made it to our first attraction – some tombs – where a lot of people alighted allowing all continuing passengers to sit. The time was 11am and we should have been at the wall by now, and yet, no wall could be seen on the mountains outside. It took a further thirty minutes to reach the 'Great Wall' car park. The last fifteen had been spent climbing up mountain roads turning, sharply, left and then right; I was glad to alight and, as I took in my surroundings, I could see a dirt path with small metal kiosks erected on each side. Each cabin held a store selling as many tacky souvenirs as possible. I made my way, past the cries from the vendors asking me if I wanted a 'glass dandelion', before finding the ticket office; time was ticking on and, annoyingly, the only woman in front of me was requesting inches of tickets. I looked at my watch ... 11:30am. If I was to catch the penultimate bus (as I don't like waiting for the last bus because, if I was to miss it, I would be stuck 60km's away from Beijing with people unable to speak English) I would have two hours on the walls and here, in front of me, was a lady asking for three hundred tickets where there was a 'group counter' a short walk further up the hill. What made it worse was that the group were Americans.

Eventually she slowly walked away, counting her tickets; I gave her a little push as I made my way to the counter. In a flash I received my ticket, by-passed the American group, and went through the barriers. Instead of taking the cable car I decided to walk; unlike Dali the path was well defined but it was just as steep. Stone step, after stone step, kept coming into view and after fifteen minutes I looked at the cable car with envy. As of now I still hadn't seen the wall; whilst in the car park the smog had been so bad that I couldn't see the mountain top. Even now the trees prevented the wall from coming into view though they did provide shade. Just before reaching the wall I saw, to my right, a metal toboggan run. On closer inspection tourists, for a fee, could toboggan down from the wall … which must be the most tackiest tourist trap I've ever seen. At this point I was a little sceptical; what would I find once I reached the top?

After thirty minutes, of continual climbing, I could see the wall; it wasn't that far away and looked free of tourist jargon. My pace quickened and, once past a lady selling drinks, I started to climb the ancient stone steps onto the wall. I cannot describe the feeling of those few moments; behind me stood a Chinese tower and, in front, I could see the wall dip before climbing up another mountain range to a higher position. It was breathe taking; history could be seen in every stone and it wasn't hard to imagine Chinese soldiers patrolling the section. A huge smile had broken upon my face and a feeling of relief consumed me; the Great Wall was the last big 'not to miss' of my tour and I'd made it.

I walked in the direction I faced. It wasn't long before I could see the full extent of the dip; the wall almost went vertical. Looking behind me the wall seemed a lot flatter and so I turned around and walked in that direction. I went through the nearest guard tower – stopping to look out of the windows – before venturing forth; it's quite difficult to walk the wall as it never seems to remain level. Due to visiting a part of the wall, miles out of Beijing, the crowds of tourists were at an all time low; I couldn't believe my luck as I started taking photos without the usual hordes of Chinese people in every shot. Even the smog, which hid some of the mountains from view, couldn't dampen my mood as I was consumed by history with every step. It had only taken thirty minutes to reach the part of the wall where I planned to walk back down to the car park. With so much time I decided to back-track focusing more on the view. As I looked over the battlements the valleys below were a long way down; looking up mountain ranges, covered in vegetation, criss-crossed each other until the smog hid the furthest from view. It was a beautiful sight however, with so much vegetation, I did wonder how easy it would have been to spot enemy movements, especially at night. I made my way back to where I'd climbed up to the wall with a crucial question rolling around my head; do I stay and catch the last bus? Certainly I hadn't enjoyed myself as much, at an historic site, since the Temples of Angkor and yet I knew, deep down, that if I stayed I would worry the whole time about missing the final bus. As I walked down from the wall, giving it one last glimpse, I wondered if I'd rushed my visit and would later regret it. I'd arrived around 11:30am, got to the wall at midday and found myself leaving at 1:15pm … would this be a regret of my trip? I continued to walk down, hearing the shouts of laughter come from the American tour group who were tobogganing back to their coach, wondering if I should return. I couldn't see what else I would gain from staying longer and yet the wall seemed to have a pull on me; I made it back to the ticket barrier and walked through defiant. I looked back still not sure if I'd made the right decision. Still I was out and so I had no other option than to wait at the bus stop.

I arrived, at the bus stop, with fifteen minutes to spare; there was a couple – the man was British and the woman was American – in front of me who I didn't speak to until a group of Chinese tried to push into the queue. I explained, to the Chinese, that the end of the queue was to the left and could they please 'jog on'. I was amazed that they listened and this made the couple laugh; we started to chat about our 'pet China hates' before boarding the 2pm bus back to Beijing, and carrying on the conversation inside. The two met each other whilst travelling in Europe and had lived in Prague for the last four years; now they were touring Asia for five months before returning to either America, or the UK … they both weren't sure which. We talked so much that time flew and before I knew it I was back in Beijing. One part of me was happy to be back, I had survived my last day-trip, via public transport, and yet the wall still called.

We walked together to the same underground station where we parted, taking different trains. I arrived at my hostel, around 5pm, to a smiling receptionist asking how my day was. I explained that I loved it though with only two buses in the morning, and two buses in the afternoon, the transport to the wall was terrible, time consuming and needed to be improved. I also mentioned the smog but both aspects hadn't spoilt the day; she just smiled and giggled as I went up to my room to put my camera away. I went out for an early tea before returning to my hostel to surf the web. I had a shower and went to bed early; hopefully the guy, opposite me, won't be on his laptop tonight so I can get a good night’s sleep. I want to be up early to visit the Forbidden City but no alarm will be set.

Toodle Pip!

Arrived in Beijing

Monday 23^rd May 2011

7 days left traveling the world.

MP3 track of the day: When you were young – The Killers

Weather: Smoggy, hot but with a cooling breeze.

I awoke to an array of colour. A lady, from the carriage next to mine, must have been unable to decide what colour suited her the best. I sat up within my bunk and allowed my eyes to adjust; she had green boots, purple leggings and a multi-coloured top on; she was also displaying a red and yellow hand bag. Her attire was certainly interesting, but I wouldn't have said it was attractive. I looked at my watch to find 5:30am displayed on its face; my body reluctantly did what my mind wanted and I found myself, ready, fifteen minutes before our scheduled arrival time.

I was flicking between the view outside, and my watch, when I noticed that the trains arrival time had been ... and gone. The view outside was mainly rural therefore I wondered just how far away from Beijing we were; on closer inspection the sky was a dirty white colour, and the smog hid the trees from view. I knew that, with this amount of pollution, we must be close to a city but it still took another hour to arrive. At 6:45am I finally departed the train. This wasn't good; an hour earlier and I would have missed rush hour but now, with a lot of luggage, I would have to fight with Beijing's thousands. The first problem was finding the underground; this is the capital of the second biggest economy in the world, plus I stood in the largest train station in Asia therefore, I was confident, of finding an underground station nearby. I went to the local information centre - where the lady had to fetch someone who could speak English – to ask for the location of the nearest underground station; my mouth opened and a look of surprise was slapped, unintentionally, across my face when I was informed that this train station didn't have an underground link. I looked at my hostel directions; they only explained, getting to the hostel, via underground and, as I was starting to worry, the attendant calmly stated that bus '22', for three stops, would deliver me to the closest underground station.

It's the first time that I've had to pay for my luggage on a bus, but at 10p I didn't argue. The bus was packed and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get off at my required stop. As we pulled away from 'stop two' I turned to the bus conductor who gave me a reassuring nod that the next stop was mine. The doors swung open and, for a split second, no one moved; I started to panic and then, almost as one, the passengers woke up and most alighted heading the same way as I. Once in the underground I was presented with a ticket machine similar to the ones in Shanghai; I had to press the 'touch screen', until my fingers broke, to select my required stop but I was surprised to find that the cost was only two Yuan (20p). I put my bags through the underground scanner and made my way to my platform.

By this time I was already hot and I regretted putting my coat on; my rucksack was starting to hurt and yet, as the train approached, I knew that there wouldn't be any rest for quite a while (it would appear that Beijing underground stations have no waiting seats). The first train arrived and each window had a 'China man', or two, pressed against it. I felt it was too full and yet, after a run-up, more Chinese managed to throw themselves on-board just as the doors closed … it was a work of art. I watched train, after train, after train go past with, what seemed like, the same Chinese people plastered against the windows. None of them could have held me, and my luggage, and so I waited realising that I might have to wait, on the station platform, for rush hour to be over. It was then that an underground attendant, and a female Chinese student, walked in my direction. The attendant looked at my bags and babbled something in Chinese; fortunately the student could translate for me and, basically, the woman was saying that I would be unable to board the train, that I required, with my luggage (tell me something I don't know). I noticed that the student had a large suit case of her own and we found ourselves in the same predicament. The first suggestion, the attendant came up with, is that we both shared a taxi; we walked over to a large underground map where we both pointed to our desired terminus. Unfortunately the student and I were heading in different directions; in the end we crossed platforms and alighted the empty train heading the other way. We traveled back, two stops before the end of the line, before crossing the platform, once more, and catching the train back the way we'd come; this allowed us to by-pass the crowds. The train was already full when we arrived back at the underground station we started at; and yet Chinese people were still lunging themselves inside. The girl and I chatted for most of the trip; she too had come from Louyang and she was here for a university meeting. As well as her enormous suit case, she had an old fashioned wooden basket full of cherries, which she offered to me.

Eventually we arrived at a station where we both had to change trains; as soon as the train doors opened the passengers burst onto the platform and we followed them up the steps to 'line 2'. This train was full, but not anywhere near as bad as the one I'd just been on. Unfortunately, as the first train came in, the student got on but I failed to; as the doors closed I waved her goodbye and waited for the next train, which was only two minutes later.

I eventually arrived at my desired terminus; for this whole period I'd had my rucksack on my back, my coat on and my armpits pouring with sweat. I traveled up an escalator and, as soon as the sun light hit me, I found a small stone seat lying vacant. I stumbled as I walked over to the seat and sat down with a large sigh of relief; I drank what was left of my water and read the rest of my hostels directions. 'The hostel is 300m south of the underground station'; pulling my aching body onto it's feet, I walked the final steps to my hostel. Check-in went without incident and I was glad to find that my bed was ready. Once within my dorm I noticed that it was full of 'bog standard' travelers; this was good on the one hand, but it wasn't half messy. I also noticed that all eight lockers – for an eight bed dorm – were taken, which was highly annoying. Being 8:30am people were still asleep and so I quietly went through the process of unpacking. Due to the squeeze on the underground I went through each and every souvenir – making sure that they had made the journey (they had) – before collecting my laundry into one bag.

After I found myself sat within reception with a giggling, but very nice, receptionist facing me. I asked her many questions and she answered them all; she was lovely and, where she felt I might have to ask a local for help, she wrote my query down in Chinese. The only downside was that the section, of the Great Wall, I'd planned to visit was under reconstruction. She gave me directions to another part of the wall and said that it was just as beautiful. I thanked the receptionist and walked out of the hostel. Yesterdays pizza had done it's work but, now, I found myself hungry. Being 10:40am it was an annoying time; too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. I decided to grab lunch anyway as that would free up the afternoon for sightseeing; as I sat I planned my final days traveling:

- Today: Laundry, souvenir shopping and Yonghegong Lama Temple

- Tuesday: The Great Wall

- Wednesday: The Forbidden City

- Thursday: Jingshan Park, Tian'anmen Square, Temple of Heaven

- Friday: The Summer Palace

- Saturday: Photograph the city

- Sunday: Clothes shop plus acrobatic show

After realising that I had a full itinerary I quickened my eating and walked back to my hostel. First of all I inquired about a good place to purchase souvenirs. The good news was that there was a street, close-by, that sold all sorts of souvenirs; the bad news was that it was located just where I'd dined for lunch. I walked back the way I'd come and stumbled across an old, but fake, Chinese street. I browsed through the shops quickly almost getting hit, on the head, by a huge piece of concrete from the roof above (seconds away from possible death). Eventually I found the souvenir, that I was after, but the asking price was ridiculous; after a short while I managed to lower the price to 10% of its original sum. That price was still over the odds but time was short, and I felt it wasn't worth bargaining any further; now happy I walked back to my hostel with the final parts of my souvenir shopping completed.

Annoyingly, with only one week to go, I had to do laundry. I'd put a load on – in the worlds smallest washing machine – before I'd gone souvenir hunting and, once back, it was ready to dry. The receptionist said that, due to Beijing's warm and dry climate, a tumble drier wasn't necessary and that I could hang my clothes on the fourth floor balcony. What she failed to mention was that there were no washing line and so, after a year of travel, my washing line became handy. The time was 1:30pm and, with my laundry drying, I decided to start my Beijing sightseeing. Looking at my map I noticed that a temple – which my guidebook had in its '31 things not to miss in China' – was within walking distance. I left my hostel and walked for twenty minutes before reaching the 'Yonghe Gong Temple'; along my chosen walking route I bumped into three tour coaches, spilling out Chinese people wearing the same coloured baseball hat. I hoped that they weren't heading in the same direction as I, and I was reassured when, looking at my map, their coaches had dropped them off quite far from the temple.

As I approached the temple I struggled to find an entrance; I'd just found a sign, indicating that the entrance was 150 meters further south, when a short white woman, with sunglasses, asked if I knew where the entrance was. I pointed south and she walked with me; it turns out that she was Israeli and, though she was nice to chat to, she did have an annoying habit of apparently knowing everything already. We chatted continuously - much to the shock of the local Chinese, who searched to find the source of this alien language – until we reached the temple entrance. My guidebook had described the 'Yonghe Gong Temple' – 'Tibetan Lama Temple' – as touristy, but a must see. I'd say that the guidebook had got the information the wrong way around; the temple was interesting, with it's many wooden buildings all painted red, but I wouldn't say that it was any different from any of the other temples I've seen within China. The Wanfu Pavilion, on the other hand, was worth the twenty-five Yuan entrance fee alone; an eighteen meter-high statue, of the Maitreya Buddha, was erected high in the middle of the main temple building. Built from a single trunk of Sandalwood – a gift for Emperor Quianlong from the seventh Dalai Lama – the wood was Tibetan and it took three years to ship to Beijing. Both of us gazed up at the Buddhas face, deciding that the temple must have been built around the statue, as it just fit. I've seen many Buddhist statues in my travels but this one was different; the way it was carved gave it so much life and it was a shame that photography was forbidden (though, of course, you could purchase a photo of the statue). The Israeli and I, walked around the temple, for around an hour diving into its many rooms of worship whilst chatting about this and that. She, of course, was always right but it was interesting to hear that she was returning to Israel, in two months, after four years working in Macu.

Once out of the temple we went for a drink before splitting up; she was going to see an acrobatics show whereas I needed to buy supplies for tomorrows planned trip to the Great Wall. Once completed I went back to my hostel to surf the internet – which I have to pay for as the wifi, yet again, isn't working for me – to find out the latest F1 results and to check my flight details. I brought my washing, and my washing line, back into my dorm and had a shower before going to sleep around 9pm. I'd been up since 5am and so I was shattered, plus an early start was needed tomorrow for my trip to the wall!

Toodle Pip!