Kagoshima - photos

Kagoshima - boy

Sacurajima, recently upgraded from island to peninsula by volcanic activity, was the main reason for coming to this place. The volcanoes were only a twenty minute ferry ride away and supposed to be the most active in Japan with over 500 eruptions this year. The evening of our arrival showed much promise as wisps of smoke rose from one of the peaks but unfortunately two solid days of cloud and rain put paid to any decent views of the volcanoes and we were left with a poor exhibition and short film in the visitors centre. I suppose a live 'volcano show', large enough to be visually spectacular but small enough to avoid an evacuation was always too hopeful.

 

When plans don't turn out as expected the one thing you can rely on in Japan is good food and hot springs. We bathed watching the sun go down and the following day under a shrine outside by the sea. When we returned from our sunset onsen the owner of the Ryoken (Japanese B+B) plied us with sake and beer at his local izakaya (pub) and we plied ourselves with its excellent food.

 

The next day we went to Ibusuki, famous for its hot sands, where we went to have another encounter with the sand monster, followed by another onsen. This time the sand was extremely hot and therefore not laid on as thickly giving a totally different and less claustrophobic experience. We had a lovely stroll along the beach, noting how odd it was to see steam rising from the sand. When we dug down a few inches to sample the sand it was too hot to touch. When we sampled the sea it was too hot to swim in. Now that's some geothermal power going on down there.

Kagoshima - girl

C still hasn't got over his fascination for volcanoes so we came south to Kagoshima to try and see Sakurijama, supposedly one of the world's most active. The signs say over 570 eruptions this year, something like 511 of them serious. Well, we saw a little bit of smoke on day one and the next two days the damn thing was covered in cloud and there was enough rain to put out the volcano forever. One can't climb the volcano as there is too high a risk of being hit by rock, or something. Actually, I can believe that's true since all the kids on the island wear helmets to school to protect them.

 

We have notched up two more onsens for our bath-post. The first entailed a 10km walk in the rain, which some may think is pushing it. I'm tempted to agree but it was nice to walk. This onsen had an outdoor pool but is only enterable for those wearing yakutas. I have no idea why swimming costumes aren't acceptable but I suspect all answers would have something to do with the fact that the pool is also a shinto shrine. Why not double them up? Makes perfect sense to me. I felt a bit like Ophelia as I waded into the pool, then I just felt silly. C thought I looked like I was entering a 'wet yakuta' contest. I thought he looked like he'd escaped from the lunatic asylum.

 

The second onsen was another sand bath - more fun as the sand was hotter (we actually cooked a banana in it) and we were on the beach, not inside. We're definitely onsen-ed out now. The beach with the sand bath is so hot it actually steams and the sea is too hot to swim in.

 

Our second night in Kagoshima we found ourselves drinking the dangerous mix of beer and sochi (local brew) with the owner of our hotel and a french guy. After dragging us to a bar the hotel owner stumbled off in to the night (having met his wife I doubt he's allowed out too late), leaving us to mop up our drinks in the company of an extremely drunk Japanese man. It was just hilarious watching drunk Japanese man dribble at the french guy who then had to translate into french for us to understand and answer his questions. There wasn't a whole lot of understanding going on - speed of foreign languages and beer will do that. 

Photos - Beppu

Beppu - boy

 In Tokyo we cancelled our day trips to see Mt Fuji due to cloudy weather so were happy when blue sky greeted our morning's departure and our train westbound afforded views of Fujisan almost veiled from head to toe in its own private cotton wool burqua. Maybe that's why a visit to Fuji is so alluring, because the clichéd but beautiful view of this snow-capped volcano is so elusive.

 

The Shinkansen took us effortlessly to the other side of Japan where we holed up for the night in Fukuoka. One grim looking large wooden Buddha and a wonderful conveyor-belt (kaiten) sushi experience later and we were in Beppu.

 

Japan is onsen (hot springs) country and Beppu has more than its fair share, so our first port of call was to an antiquated onsen to have a large amount of warm sand poured on top of us. The experience was rather like a large benevolent sand monster giving you an all encompassing warm hug, but not knowing when to stop or if it's squeezing the life out of you. First I felt at peace with only the sensation of blood pulsing heavily around my neck and legs; then I entertained thoughts of being buried alive because the sand felt too heavy and wondered if I needed help to stand up; the last five minutes I tried to will away an itchy nose. Maybe I need to be more 'zen' about this in future. When it was time, I stood up with ease, brushed the sand off and felt strangely and physically elated.

 

Our hotel, as many do in the area, had a private onsen so we'd wake up every morning with a piping hot sulphur bath. This set us up nicely for buying some supermarket sushi for lunch and seeing some of the many mediocre attractions that Beppu had to offer.

 

In an effort to make their 'devil' springs (those that where too hot to bathe in) more interesting they built parks around them, each with a different theme. One featured a hippo begging for food, another featured frequent crocodile fights. These are not the intended themes of course but surely the result of the conditions in each park. They had piranha too, but I guess putting all three in the same water would be a step too far.

 

The dichotomy of attitudes towards sex seems to reveal itself in Beppu too. A sex museum exists, as do coupons for money off, but you wouldn't know from looking in the tourist information office nor would you find it on any tourist maps, not even on the tourist map next the museum. Do they want people to go or not? Inside it's even weirder, not because of its content, though that is weird, but because the museum went to great pains to cover up the 'naughty bits' of vintage porn but nothing else. Baffling.

Beppu/Hakata - girl

After an extremely impressive ride on the Shinkansen (with views of Mt. Fuji) we arrived in Hakata, a slightly dull city in the north of Kyushu. Just before boarding the train we were browsing in the station shops. A woman buying cakes for herself bought C and me cake too. How often does that happen? We were totally flabbergasted but luckily C remembered how to thank her properly in Japanese. On the train I found C looking at me with an extremely loving look on his face. He lent over, to kiss me, I thought, and licked my cheek. Turns out I had cake cream on my face. And I thought the loving look was for me!

 

Since it was only ever meant to be a stop-over we really didn't mind the dullness. A quick look at a couple of temples and a lovely Genki sushi meal (see Hong Kong for related comments) later and we were on the train to Beppu, onsen capital of Japan. Onsen means hot spring in Japanese but it also used to mean the public bath-houses built on top of the springs. We basically chose to visit in order to check out these bath-houses. In two and a half days we managed to take in five of the things. The first was a sand-bath: lie down wearing nothing but a yakuta (Japanese cotton dressing gown) and let a similarly clad woman bury you in hot sand. The sand is said to have healing properties. I have no idea if it's true or not but it was certainly an interesting experience that provides some interesting feelings. While C was busy dealing with claustrophobia and ideas of being buried alive, I was too busy looking around to relax. I spent my time watching others relax, totally forgetting about my own opportunity for peace. Fool.

 

The second was a mixed onsen. Sexes separate to wash (lots of wandering around naked with soap) and then swimming costume-up to relax, outside together. We were lucky enough to be staying in a hostel with its own onsen so we checked that one out each morning too. I'm not sure I've ever been so clean.

 

Embarrassingly, at one of the onsens, I tried to use a drinking fountain - not too hard, I would have thought. Instead of drinking from the damn thing I ended up pelting myself in the eye with an extremely powerful jet of cold water. It took a few minutes for sight to be restored.

 

This was my first real experience of a tatami-matted room and I loved every second of it. Our hotel room was a mix of western and Japanese. We had tatami mats on the floor, a low table and cushions but also bunk beds. In the cupboard though we found our futons so opted to sleep on the floor, Japanese style. Much fun.

 

A quick trip to the 'Hells' wasn't. The hells are a group of sulphur pools that aren't very exciting so the Japanese have half heartedly tried to make them into a tourist attraction by sanitising the life out of them and giving them crappy themes. C loved the crocodile themed pool (basically a pool and then a crocodile farm) but I was harder to win over. I was hoping that Japan wouldn't have crappy tourist spots but even they're not immune.

 

 

Tokyo photos 2

Tokyo photos

Tokyo - boy

There's never been a place I've been more ready to like than Tokyo. I had been to Japan before and loved it so expectations were high, possibly setting myself up for disappointment but who knows. On arrival the signs were good, for within minutes our passports were checked, visas issued, stamped and we were through the gates. An ideal passport control experience if ever there was one.

 

Many stereotypes seem to apply here; everything seems robust, practical, clean, orderly, sensible and very punctual. I don't know what their 'trains on time' hit rate is but I'm sure it's an unreal unobtainable statistic for those working in UK rail companies. It's almost the perfect city in many respects; everything is 99.9%, including their conviction rate, though how they arrive at this may not be every westerner's cup of green tea. It certainly is the cleanest city I've visited, "cleaner than Disneyland" should be its motto. A couple of areas in Tokyo may have some evidence of litter but on the whole it was spotless (99.9% spotless); we even saw one worker vacuuming the street. Amazing when you think that there aren't any dustbins, only the recycling bins for plastic bottles and cans next to the vending machines - we conclude that everyone must eat their rubbish.

 

We must have used hundreds of automated machines for drink, tickets, change, etc and none of them ever seem to be out of order. How is this possible? No vending machine seems to want to swallow your money without dispensing your desired product first and they don't appear to be battered or scratched either. And why does no one stand two abreast on the escalator thus blocking commuters who want to overtake, do they know nothing of underground etiquette? How come the station toilets don't charge money and why are their floors not covered is piss and shouldn't there be at least one hand dryer covered in masking tape? Japan can indeed be a confusing place.

 

I guess it's all covered by attitudes and high costs; the latter is certainly true. In the extremely expensive category are a couple of noteworthy items; fruit, melons for £35 for example, but there's a good reason for this which I've no doubt C will explain in her blog; and the metro, which is probably double the price of London's (but works twenty times better so it's actually better value).

 

We visited the Miraikan Science and Innovation museum with its cool (but dated) experiments and a mall housing a food theme park containing a shrine to a porcelain cat but we spent much of the time simply wondering around the different areas of Tokyo gawping at the food and searching for weird trinkets or futuristic gadgets. Sadly there wasn't much of the latter (we blame globalisation) so we concentrated our efforts on the former.

 

Our first port of call in this respect was Tsukiji fish market which (apparently) supplies all of Tokyo. Even at 5am on our first visit we skipped gaily around the market like Charley Bucket might have done if Willy Wonker had been a fishmonger, trying not to be run over by the Oompa Loompas zipping about in their fish carts transporting raw goodies. The serious stuff however - the daily tuna auction - was not to be disturbed by tourists and we dutifully kept our distance. The whole experience was a sashimi wonderland (which strangely didn't smell of fish) and by the end we were replete with uncooked delights.

 

On our second visit to the market we made a beeline for Daiwa, the best sushi bar in town housed inside the market. The wait was long (one hour), the bar was small (thirteen people) and the sushi predictably incredible. It was the first time sea urchin had made an appearance on my plate, but unfortunately I've never managed to find any of the same quality since. The mollusc that was served (ark shell I think) also left an impression because it was served ikizukuri style, literally meaning 'prepared alive' and is normally still moving, although ours was stationary. Nevertheless, C was put of the whole idea of eating invertebrates so soon after killing them (as opposed to waiting a more respectable time) which simply meant more sushi for me.

 

When we weren't ploughing our way through raw fish we sampled much of the sweets and ice cream; only me for the former, both of us for the latter. Blue salt, avocado honey and mashed potato flavours - all a hit, while mint and garlic, not so much. Green tea ice cream is always good but then there isn't a product here, sweet or savoury, that doesn't have a green tea variety - and it works, most of the time.

 

Tokyo - girl

I never believed in love at first sight, until now. Tokyo, for a Brit, is the most wonderful place imaginable: not only is it supremely fascinating but people are orderly, they follow the same escalator rules as we do, they're polite to a fault and the food is out of this world. What more could one wish for?

 

We had been assured that Japan's reputation for being extremely expensive was outdated and that ten years of stagnation had brought costs into line with the rest of the world.  I hate to think how expensive Japan was at its peak: our £70 a night bunkbeds were my first shock, the second was the exorbitant metro costs but it was the fruit and vegetable prices that really hit me. We saw melons for around £40 and mangos for over £10. A single apple costs £1 minimum and up to £5 for the prettiest ones. As a serial fruit eater this really troubled me so I did some research and now know all about the differences between 'eating fruit' and 'gift fruit'. Fruit for eating, that you or I might buy when we feel peckish or want to stave off colon cancer, is hard to find outside of suburban supermarkets, whereas fruit for giving is all over the place. 'Gift fruit' is exceptionally Japanese. When visiting a friend or colleague at home or in the hospital it's polite to take a gift of fruit, not just any fruit, but 'gift fruit'. These expensive items are cultivated more carefully than 'eating fruit' and then gift-wrapped in order to justify the costs. Everyone's a winner: the gift fruit company gets to charge high prices, the giver gets to look generous and receiver gets a piece of great fruit. Except it's clearly a sham. All fruit here is expensive anyway and who needs £40 worth of perfect melon? It doesn't show thought or consideration since every single corner shop stocks 'gift fruit'. And as our hotel owner in Kagoshima said, 'Id rather have the money anyway, thanks'!

 

That's not the only weird thing about Tokyo. On our first day here I saw a woman with a small dog that she seemed to think was her child: it was wearing clothes and being pushed in a pram. She and her friends were cooing over it as if it were a baby. I love puppy dogs, as C will attest, but this was crazy. And she wasn't the only one we saw behaving in this deranged manner. At least she was dressed fairly normally, I guess. 'Cosplay' is big across Japan but is at its biggest in Tokyo. This basically seems to entail grown women dressing as little girls - perhaps somehow related to the stories I hear of the Japanese fetish for school girls? Weird? Yes. Very.

 

All of this clearly makes for a fascinating place for the tourist. It can also be quite overwhelming, especially when language is added to the mix. On our first night in Tokyo, C suggested that I pick a restaurant since I was hungrier than he. The sheer choice, the pace and the lack of English anywhere made this a major task. We walked around for a while trying to make sense of everything and completely failing. This was compounded by the fact that instead of menus on the wall, Japanese restaurants have models of their offerings. For C this is heaven but for me it makes life even harder as I'm a word person. A well written menu can beat a picture hands down for me. Of course, I'm not going to get this in Japan but pictures/models just do nothing for me, somehow they just don't represent food. Panic not, we eventually found a restaurant and since then we haven't looked back.

 

Everything is such amazingly high quality that even the corner shops' offerings are quite wonderful. Our days in Tokyo began with breakfast in the hotel, we'd then begin considering lunch: usually a bento box and some raw fish from the local supermarket or if we were lucky, a selection of sushi and katsu from a deli that puts UK delis to shame. Supper, always the main even of the day and would be udon noodles, tempura or sushi.

 

Clearly, when we ate something non-sushi related we offered up our apologies to the sushi gods and then did our best to appease them by quickly finding a sushi restaurant. We were fortunate enough to have the opportunity to eat in what is considered to be the best sushi restaurant in Tokyo, and therefore, the world. While this may conjure up images of an evening meal in a swanky restaurant, smart waiters and an extortionate bill, that couldn't be further from fact: we got up at 6am to queue for a spot at the bar in a small (13 people) room in Tokyo's famous fish market. After 70 minutes standing in the pouring rain it was finally our turn and we were let into the hallowed shrine to the sushi gods to receive communion in the form of fish. Ten pieces of perfection were ours for the extremely reasonable price of 39,000Yen a head (around £30): fatty tuna, semi-fatty tuna, tuna and crab nigiri, prawns, eel, sea urchin, mackerel with ginger (my new favourite), snapper, ikizukuri (live) shell fish and squid. I couldn't eat the live stuff, but C tucked right in. The fatty tuna and the mackerel were enough to bring tears to my eyes they were so perfect, the flavours so intense and exquisite. For me, regular sushi is great on a daily (I wish) basis) but there is just no comparison. I defy anyone to eat at this restaurant and not fall in love with sushi.

 

The fish market is a tourist attraction in its own right so on our second morning in Tokyo we got up at 4.30am to be at the market early to wander around watching Tokyo's chefs jostle for the best tuna. The most striking thing was the complete absence of smell. Never have I been to a fish market that doesn't stink. We bought a box of tuna sashimi and ate it standing at the gateway to the market before heading into a small restaurant (sushi for breakfast is wonderful) for more. Here, we tried whale sashimi. Having tried it in Iceland we were actually disappointed with the Japanese version but I'm still glad to have tried it even knowing what people back home think.

 

I also have to briefly mention the avocado and honey ice cream that took my breath away. The Japanese seem to love weird ice cream flavours but they do pull them off. I am always willing to try ice cream and this was like frozen guacamole. What's not to love?

 

The Japanese love of the vending machine also intrudes into the dining experience as many of the smaller places have you check out models in the window or a brief menu before hitting the button on the vending machine. Sadly, this only spits out a ticket, not the meal itself. The ticket is then given to a waitress, who in turn hands it to the chef. An experience to be sure, and the food was usually excellent.   

 

I guess it's obvious that much of our Tokyo experience has revolved around food, well, how could it not? We've been very successfully down to two meals a day for much of this trip but now we're well and truly back up to 3+ but I don't blame us at all, in fact, I think it would be rude not to be. I'm just a bit concerned as I'm quite loving being down almost two dress sizes and at this rate I'll be more than back to my old size.

 

We were expecting Tokyo to be far more futuristic than it has turned out to be. Perhaps the stories we hear in the west are exaggerated, or perhaps they're simply old but there's very little technology here that really seems new or exciting to us except the toilets. As a child I saw Blue Peter presenters visit Japan (that's were my desire to see the place for myself stems from) and marvel at the toilet seats. Well, they're the same toilets 20 years later but they're still extremely impressive. There are buttons for washing front bits and back bits, a seat warmer and a fake flush to cover all the potentially embarrassing noises. Brilliant. The first time we saw the seats we both spent longer than normal in the loo. I pressed one of the cleaning buttons to see what would happen (what did I think??) and was so surprised by the well aimed jet of water that I jumped up, leaving the jet aimed right at my trousers. I was giggling so hard I found it hard to explain to C what had happened! 

Hong Kong - Pictures

Hong Kong - Boy

The smoggy sky clears a little from Chengdu (via Shenzhen) to Hong Kong and (happily) the bureaucracy clears up a lot. Our exit from China and later transit through China vs entry and exit to and from Hong Kong demonstrate this perfectly. On exiting, our Tibetan group visa confounded passport control - central government had obviously not informed our inspector what types of visa the people's republic issues. There was much calling over of supervisors; noddings of head of supervisor; much checking, double-checking and triple-checking our passports; much waiting in the 'no wait' zone while others squeeze by; much ordering of us to go back behind the yellow line which wasn't possible due to the crush of people (and their baggage) behind us. Our officious inspector must have been exasperated by this horrendous lack of protocol while we were just exasperated, but in the end the score was 'people's bureaucracy' 1, pragmatism 0.

 

Our transit through Shanghai from Hong Kong to Japan was more comedy but thankfully shorter: Firstly, we were stopped going through the 'in transit' door and were directed to the 'enter China' passport control. Knowing this to be crap we went back to the China Eastern Airways desk where we were told to "wait here", then "follow me". We followed the CEA representative who she took us through the same doors we were told not to go through earlier, around the corner, via some darkened corridors, then through a coded security door where we waited for two passport officials to attend their desks. At this point I was extremely worried they would put a stamp on our newly acquired China double-entry visa taking away one entry (and we needed both). They didn't (phew) and after much checking and (of course) double-checking they put a modest 'transit' stamp on a separate page allowing us harmonious entry to the gate. We'll be enjoying China customs three more times before the end of our trip.

 

By contrast, entry and exit to and from Hong Kong (and Macau) was a breeze. We did this many times since you pass through passport control each time you visit a SAR (Special Administrative Region). It was all very efficient and without hassle. If this is how SARs operate then maybe all of China should become a SAR. China's mantra of "one country, two systems" for these places has never been truer.

 

My expectations of Hong Kong were merely that it should be bright and exciting. It was and more. In May it's also a humid city and a lot of ice cold 'air conditioned' wind blows out of the many shop entrances (Hong Kong doing its bit to cool the planet). It is also very very cramped - there are even people known as 'cage men' who live in an impossibly spaced area of 2x1x1 metres. C became extremely claustrophobic just looking at the kinds of rooms we had to live in for the next seven days, but we did habituate to the size and C eventually stopped mentioning the lack of window. We made up for our lack of living space by sampling the delights of a big city; its variety of food, entertainment and shops.

 

Strangely all the Chinese food we tried was generally poor quality. I never expected the chicken's feet to blow me away but was sad when a restaurant that came highly recommended served large quantities of duck fat in exchange for an unreasonable number of HK dollars. I'm not sorry I missed out on pig's knuckles now. Some cheap eats were good though; we found a tasty hole in the wall dim sum place and a great (for me at least) vegetarian buffet with a fantastic range of tofu, mushrooms and glutinous rice sweets.

 

We had superb Japanese food, but top marks go to a restaurant whose chef provided an exquisite buffet lunch with bottomless champagne, all for less than the price of two helpings of duck fat. Only a few times have I been fortunate enough to experience an absolute gastronomic indulgence such as this and it's the one time my eating slows down because stomach space is at a premium; it was tantamount to having a DIY tasting menu and then redoing your favourite dishes. On the two days we ate there the food became the central activity and the entertainment before and after just blurred into insignificance.

 

Only slightly blurry (read boring) is the memory of the retro space museum; a planetarium with some Chinese space propaganda; strolling through the New Territories' wetlands a few miles from the Chinese border; a weak harbour light show and forgettable Chinese orchestra.

 

More vivid are the fantastic views of Hong Kong island and Kowloon; the forest of high-rises all over the place; some literature on Chinese atrocities being (surprisingly) handed out on the street; superb entertainment in the form of two percussion artists from Israel; being drenched by the rain in the wholesome and slightly jaded plastic world of Disney and feeling the glitz of the mega opulent Casinos in Macau, which could well have been transplanted from Vegas into the middle of Macau's aged and what appears to be blackened fire-damaged high-rise neighbourhoods.

 

Our main reason for being here though was to obtain a China visa quickly and painlessly. We obtained it in exactly this way and given how much fun we had here am glad the 'people's bureaucracy' saw fit not to allow normal China visas in Tibet.

Hong Kong - Girl

Our introduction to Hong Kong came in the form of tiny, airless and damp hotel rooms costing around £40 a night. We dejectedly looked at a few before settling on the least tiny, airless and damp of the bunch. Despite its lack of window we (read 'I', since I don't think C actually cared much) did get used to it. Given that some locals live in metal cages (I jest not) so small they can't stand or stretch out fully, I shouldn't really complain.

 

Hong Kong, for me, will always be about the food: the bright lights, the forest of towers, the humidity and the ice-cold air conditioning may blur but the food, good or bad, I'll never forget. The first night's delicious meal with stunning views of Hong Kong Bay was followed by complementary cocktails at Hullett House, a hotel built in the old Marine Police Headquarters. A sign promising all we could eat dim sum and all we could drink Veuve Cliquot ensured we would return soon. Sadly the offer had expired by the time we returned but thankfully, an even better one had transpired: breakfast buffet and free flowing Veuve for €50 a head. Bargain. We tried it once, we tried it twice. And yes, it was incredible both days. The buffet served everything we could wish for: oysters, sushi, dim sum, muesli and fruit, cheese, meats, salad, cake, the list goes on. This feast was compounded by the addition of an a la carte main course. Wow. Day one we were more than a little tipsy by the time we left. Day two we were a little more sensible and succeeded in maintaining a semblance of sobriety!

 

Hoping to strike it lucky again, we tried an afternoon tea in another nice hotel - no comparison to either Hullett House or to any afternoon tea in good hotels at home. Another sadness came when we visited the LP's highly recommended Spring Dear restaurant, famed for its Peking Duck. What a disaster. First, with a flourish, the duck is carved before the table. Two plates of meat are placed on the table alongside dry cucumber and spring onion and some bad pancakes. Here, we floundered. We picked the meat off the fat and skin and realised we were left with very little we actually wanted to eat. Never mind, more meat was sure to come, right? Wrong. The waiter came to clear our table and was surprised when we stopped him and asked for the rest of our duck. Seems most people (tourists included?) get the rest to take home. Well, since we didn't have a home in HK we thought we'd go crazy and eat in the restaurant. A small plate of bones was placed before us. When we complained to the manager that for £30 we expected a little more meat, his response was 'this is HK, this is what you get'. Well, clearly this wasn't good enough. All we managed to get out of him was another plate of bones though. A total rip-off and what we did have wasn't even that good. Upon returning to our room we searched on line and found a number of reviews quoting similar experiences. Bad job LP. I did, however, enjoy adding our thoughts to the list of negative comments. Thank goodness we had good old Genki to feed us whenever we needed something reliable - HK's answer to Yo! Sushi. Hurrah. A great build up to Japan.

 

While it's true that most of our HK experiences were around food, we did do some touristy stuff: we watched the light show, which was poor, we took the tram to the Peak, which was a fun ride but the incredible smog meant we could barely even see Kowloon! We also took a train out to the New Territories to visit the Wetlands. Our high hopes for the Wetlands were dashed by the Sino-ifying of nature: we walked on concrete paths round extremely controlled and manipulated ponds whilst 'spotting' almost nothing except for the fake animals put in for kids. I suppose for people who have never seen real countryside, it could have been exciting but for those of us who spent a lot of time in the country this was a fairly dull day. C, however, was enthralled by the jungle of tower blocks that never left our sight throughout the park.

 

A day trip to Macau showed yet more of China's zebras. An island run by the Portuguese until 1999, today it is covered in casinos that wish they were Vegas and horribly run-down apartment buildings that show the 'real Macau'. Using complimentary shuttle buses between casinos we managed to get around the island for free all day. First stop: The Venetian - just like Vegas except full of good Communist Chinese zebras enjoying a trip to Capitalist heaven. Second stop: The Bubble - a 4-D imax experience that totally surpassed anything I've ever seen in imax before. Third stop: The Grand Lisboa, an enormous casino right in the middle of the city, totally overshadowing everything around it. Enthralling in a car crash kind of way. For me, this was an interesting but uncomfortable day: the poverty spelt out by the apartment buildings contrasted too deeply to sit comfortably.  

 

How could we go to HK and not go to Disney Land? We couldn't, obviously. Despite the park being small, fairly dated and aimed at 10 year olds, and despite the pouring rain, we had fun. I even overcame a true fear and went on Space Mountain, twice. I know it sounds pathetic but I am so proud of myself for doing this. I hate roller coasters and as a 14 year old refused to go on the same ride in California, instead standing on the side while my parents rode it! And surprisingly, it was ok. I'm not sure I want to go on much bigger rides but now I know I can do it.

 

Apart from Hullett House the other highlight of HK was PercaDu, an Israeli duo of percussion perfection. These guys gave the best performance I have ever seen. They played an array of instruments with such finesse that nothing I write can relate the magic of seeing them on stage.

 

So that was HK. A SAR (Special Administrative Region) done good. Capitalist in the extreme, from the millions of shopping malls to its claim for the most expensive land per square metre in the world we never really felt like we were in China, everything was too ordered and spitting and shoving are certainly not permitted! The People's people have done well, perhaps the other People's people would do well to emulate.

 

Our flight from HK to Japan went via Shanghai where we were brought back to China with a bump! Suddenly the zebras weren't so abundant, instead we had some donkeys with painted stripes. I don't know how but the Chinese managed to make transit between two flights more complicated than I have ever seen anywhere else. We saw a door marked transit but as we approached we were cut off by two guards who pointed us in the direction of customs. Instead we went to the help desk and asked how to get through the transit door (perhaps there was a magic key?). We were eventually led to the very same door through an extremely circuitous route and then told to wait in a cupboard until the officials were ready for us. Some more bureaucracy later and we were finally free to sit still and await our flight to Tokyo.

 

Chengdu (Leshan)

Chengdu - boy

Our 45 hour 'highest in the world' train journey from Lhasa to Chengdu was pretty much like any other long train journey we'd taken. We luckily had a whole compartment free for the entire journey so it was a very comfortable 45 hours but it was still, after all our excitement, a long train journey. A read on how the engineers overcame the 'annual thawing permafrost buckling the tracks' problem on Wikipedia is probably more interesting than the ride itself and definitely shorter.

 

I had thought that Chengdu would be the first developed city, infrastructurally speaking, since Dubai but since the Chinese have developed Tibet (from many angles both positive and negative) out of recognition I hadn't the usual shock of seeing, for example, clean unbroken pavements for the first time in a couple of months. In turns out that our sequence of travelling from India to Nepal to Tibet to China to Hong Kong and to Japan will seem like stepping through stages of development, on the surface at least. Chengdu looks like it's currently at the smog covered stage but the presence of many electric scooters suggest the cleanup is underway so the sky should be clear in no more than <insert guess here> years.

 

There isn't as much touristy stuff to do as a city of four million might promise, but we nevertheless managed to fill our time with interesting activities. We acquired some cooking skills making household favourites like sweet and sour and even fish flavoured dishes without fish. We took in a Chinese opera, which in this case was several acts rolled into one show; including puppets, quick mask changing, incredible hand shadows and (the less comprehensible) comedy all performed with colourful costumes and bright music. Very entertaining.

 

The 'People's Park' was the perfect place to see just how 'noise' tolerant the Chinese are. There are literally dozens of singers and musicians with their microphones cranked up so high the speakers distort and crackle. The whole effect is a cacophony of overlapping mutually exclusive sounds bordering on white noise which would have the average Westerner screaming at his neighbour to turn it down but these guys seem totally oblivious to any kind of interference. How on earth do they filter out the invading sounds and enjoy their own music which must be barely audible in their own space? Previously, in the compartment of the train, I had wondered why the position of the TVs is such that the sound from each TV interferes with the others. How do they all watch different programmes at the same time? Now I have my answer.

 

On the non-noisy side it is great to see everyone involved in these park activities, especially those who are completely lost in their own world dancing as though (as the cliché goes) no one were watching; or waving hands like clouds doing Tai Chi on their own; or belting out their favourite patriotic song and judging by the singing, as though no one were listening. We managed to find an empty outdoor table by a tea-house in the park where the noise waves cancelled each other out and sat there in almost silence watching the spectacle and playing Scabble.

 

About 100km away is a small town which accommodates an extremely large Buddha carved into a cliff face (largest in the world in fact), with an extremely large queue down to see its feet and some world-class pushing and shoving to get to the bottom. There are temples too (course there are) and one houses an appealing display of a thousand colourful terracotta celestial beings with unique and interesting expressions and was mercifully free of people.

 

C did mention some national habits that she found irritating the first time she graced these shores. One was queue jumping - not impressed; good technique but I've seen better by old folks in the Czech Republic. Another was spitting - this is very impressive; on planes, trains and restaurant floors, there's nowhere these guys don't hock up and no floor is too clean or germ free to be spat on. Full marks. And another was staring - good lengthy gaze even at spitting distance but a seemingly disinterested one and not a patch on a good Rwandan stare.

 

That said; my (and my stomach's) predominant memory of Chengdu will be the Szechuan spicy oily hot pot - a vegetable and meat fondue where you cook the ingredients yourself in the stew provided and cool it off with garlic and herb flavoured oil. I would have thought all restaurants could offer a similar quality of stew but we managed to pick restaurants at both ends of the Szechuan spectrum; the ultra spicy mouth-numbing flavoursome kind that can rarely be paralleled in any eating experience and the grotesque appalling 'what the hell kind of stew am I cooking my food in?' kind with all sorts of crap popping up to the surface, like fish heads and spam.

Chengdu - girl

48 hours on the train and we arrived in Chengdu, a small city of four million people. Our home in this sprawling city was Sim's Cozy Guest House. Sim has made it his mission to create the best hostel in China, and quite frankly, I think he's succeeded. The place had everything a backpacker could want or even wish for. Our small room even had a tv and dvd player. We fell asleep in front of a film every night in Chengdu.

 

I guess, for me, the food is a good place to begin ruminating. Szechwan is famous for its cooking and we certainly enjoyed it although the McDonald's we had upon arrival was also fantastic. Hot Pot is a particular delicacy in the region and C. made it our business to keep the industry going. We had three hot pots in four days. Two of these were in the same, very good, restaurant and one was in an abysmal place that basically just stole our money. The general idea is: boiling flavoured oil in a dish in the middle of the table in which you cook your own veg and meat. Some oils are full of szechwan chillies and mushrooms and others fish heads. The taste is incredible (unless you accidentally order fish head oil, which we did one night) - I can totally understand that C. wanted it so much, however, for me, the oil sat particularly badly and I spent much of our time in Chengdu burping up mushroom oil flavour. Delightful.

 

We spent one morning doing a cookery course in the hostel. We learned to make sweet and sour pork, fish flavour egg plant and a local chicken dish. All three are stunningly delicious. We took the course with three others, two who paid and one old, Swiss, woman who crashed the course and made it alternately more entertaining and more annoying. She was incapable of keeping quiet and kept interrupting the chef and his interpreter. Although she couldn't join in the cooking she more than made up for it with the amount she ate, during the class and the meal that followed. The rest of us were a little surprised given that she hadn't paid anything but sometimes it's easier to keep quiet. Poor C got stuck listening to her over lunch while I chatted to the other two. I felt sorry for him but not sorry enough to relieve him!

 

The lesson was so much fun, much better than the Indian cookery course in Udaipur where we just watched a slightly bored woman cook a few dishes. Here we got to do everything. C. even set his wok on fire a couple of times in his enthusiasm. Brilliant.

 

Having been to China before, the city layout and architecture didn't hold any surprises for me except for the People's Park, which really threw me. This is basically a concrete area with lots of trees where people congregate to make as much noise as they possibly can, all at the same time. People sing next to people practicing their dancing (with loud music), next to an orchestra, next to other singers, next to other dancers and on it goes. The cacophony was incredible, and for me, not in a good way. I am extremely western in my views on noise I suppose. I don't like anyone else's noise imposing on me (and I try not to impose on others in this way) so I found the park quite trying. The other side of the park comprised of tea houses where we sat in relative peace for an hour or so, enjoying lemon tea and each other's company. Seeing how people can carry on their own activities whilst others compete for sound space is amazing but even more amazing were the few on the edges dancing or doing Tai Chi on their own, in their own (almost) silent world.

 

Most people visiting Chengdu go to see the pandas. We didn't. It was deliberate but I'm not entirely sure why. I guess it had something to do with the exorbitant prices to which we objected. We did, though, go to a Tea House Opera. I was a tad sceptical about this excursion, having seen Chinese opera before, however, I was wrong. It was magnificent. On a cold, rainy, night, we sat outside with hundreds of Chinese tourists, watching a variety of acts - opera, shadow puppets, comedy, orchestras - all of it perfectly wonderful. I don't usually like to be wrong but I'm glad I was here.

 

The only other touristy thing we did though, I found fairly bland and typical of many Chinese tourist attractions. The world's largest buddha is around three hours drive from Chengdu in a park that requires a high entrance fee and a great deal of patience to deal with the thousands of jostling, spitting, smoking country-folk who also want to see it on the same day as you. Everything in the park is extremely ordered and concrete-y. In order to see the giant buddha one must queue for around an hour, fending off every sodding person who wants (and tries) to push in front. Upon reaching the front of the queue one then enters a sort of pen area where everyone can squish together as much as they like (and they like) to move through a small gate. Much fun. The system continues much like this with intermittent views of giant buddha until suddenly one is at the feet of this thing, a few photos are taken and it's all over. I was fairly under whelmed; unable to focus on the buddha due to my dislike of being pushed around by people who have no idea about personal space. My problem.

 

The complex also houses a number of other attractions, one of which is a Buddhist temple (yup, I thought I'd seen enough too) with hundred of alabaster statues of buddhas or fairies or something, each with a different expression. Pretty cool.

 

And then we got a plane to Shenzen, a town by Hong Kong. In order to get into Hong Kong we had to go through customs. There was none of the order and precision of the Tibetan/Nepali border. Here, Chinese people were invited to push and shove as much as they liked (and they like) to reach the Chinese border guards. We had a fairly hard time of it here as our extremely officious guard claimed to have never seen a paper visa before. We explained we'd been on a group tour of Tibet, she called over another guard who verified the legitimacy of said paper visa but Ms. Officious was having none of it. She checked the paper again, and again, and again. All the while, the mush of people behind us was growing as was my frustration. It gave me great pleasure to push the big red button marked 'dissatisfied' once she'd let us through.