| View Blog
|
|
|
It's hot. And humid. We're now in the sort of region where insects could probably be classified as small animals.
But first, back to Beijing. Our last day here was spent meandering around the dream-like Kunming Lake, the main feature of the Summer Palace where white marble bridges jostle for position amongst drooping willows. It was good to relax for a few hours before hitting the hutongs. On reflection, the area in which you find these tiny bustling alleyways would have been much more fun than where we actually were but the breif amount of time we had there was enough to get a good feel for the more kick-your-shoes-off liberated side of Beijing.
That night we slept in a comfortable hard sleeper bunk on the train to Qingdao. It's funny how the opinions of a guidebook author is enough to draw you many miles out of your way. Unfortunately, the description we had of Qingdao of 'an excellent example of German architecture', was, perhaps, written by someone who had never been to Germany. Besides, we realised a little too late, we live in Europe; we didn't come all the way to China to see bloomin' German architecture.
Apart from the occasional red-bricked 'German-style' building, there was not much else going for Qingdao apart from its clean, sandy beaches caressed by the cold Yellow Sea. A prominent feature of one of the beaches was a group of dozens of brides and grooms, all having their photos taken in full wedding day gear. On the train out of the city we fell into conversation with a lad who obviously wanted to practice his English. From hinm we found out that the photos are taken a few months before the big day.
We endured a hard seat (this classification better describes what you get; thinly padded seats which force you to sit bolt upright and endure endless clouds of acrid cigarette smoke) overnight to Shanghai. When planning this little trip I thought that at this point we may appreciate a little luxury, and how right I was. Our hotel, Astor House, was the first hotel in China, built in 1846, and in its heyday hosted luminaries such as Einstein and Charlie Chaplin. It's quiet, wooden corridors, were empty apart from the ghosts of the British Empire's finest discussing the price of opium.
Shanghai is superb. Our first day here was spent wandering along the pedestrianised Nanjing Road where tourists go to look at other tourists, in the Frech Concession area where the tree-lined boulevards could quite easily have been imported from Paris and alongside the Bund. Throngs of sightseers crowded this riverside area at night to gaze across the expansive Huangpu river at the 60+ story skyscrapers adorned with twinkling lights or vast screens which reflected onto the black waters and awe-struck eyes. We climbed one of these huge edifices, the Jin Mao Tower, the following morning. As you can see from the pictures it's a biggy. Apparently from here you can see the river empty into the ocean, a view perhaps not experienced for several decades as the smog in Shangers is dense.
A short 2 hour hop away lies the city of Hangzhou, famous for it's huge West Lake reated many centuries ago from swamps. We arrived very hungry and found what a branch of Ajisen Ramen, a Japanese restaurant serving tasty food not vastly different to Wagamamas. Since arriving in China (2 weeks ago as I write this blog) I have not eaten the same dish twice. Peking Duck, fried noodles with spicy pork, and fried peppers with chilli have been favourites and I haven't been tempted with Western food once. China may well be the only exotic country in which I actually put on weight. Anna also appreciates the food, albeit the less spicier dishes.
In Hangzhou the climate and landscape are an obvious change from more northerly parts of China. Dusty flat land has been replaced with humid hills and the sweet fragrant air found in tropical forests. The lake here is surrounded by a busy pedestrianised pavement with the occasional stone causeway stretching for a few hundred metres. Small wooden boats, powered by entrepreneurial Chinese fellas, take tourists such as us onto the still waters to gaze back at the bright lights lining the shore and a particularly well choreographed light and fountain display.
Huangshan Mountain now lay across our path. We began the ascent early in the morning and by 10am were sweating and panting like a dog in a sauna. I'm making this sound like it was all ropes and carabinas, but there were in fact very sturdy steps all the way. Well, that's if you went the sensible way. We decided to take a small detour up steps described as 'treacherous'. The description should have been more like 'don't even think of doing this if you are slightly affected by heights/value your life'. The turning point for me was a bridge made up of small steps and a waist-high handrail which traversed a 600-metre drop. Well, it would have been a turning point but I'm of the mind that going up is always better than going down and I sure as hell am not going over that thing again.
White-knuckled and whiter-faced I reached the top with a slightly calmer Anna and the ubiquitous hordes of domestic tourists. We were so now ridiculously high that I don't think my brain comprehended it and so I managed to enjoy the far-ranging views. This area is picture-book China. Tall, finger-shaped mountains crusted with flat-leaved trees and hazy mist drifting between. The sun went down in a blaze of red, blue and everything in-between, disappearing behind the gathered peaks. It arose to a dawn chorus of songbirds and hawking Chinese, creating an equally impressive display with the few clouds seeping golden hues into the lightening sky.
So far, no rain. In fact, the only precipitation has been clouds of sparks falling from high from welders wielded by workers clinging to the growing number of skyscrapers. We hiked quickly down Huangshan and caught a bus to Wuyuan. We reached the small village of Xiao Likeng before sundown so that we could admire the ancient buildings built along a stone embankment besides two small converging streams. Another picture-book moment. Imagine these white walled, tiled and carving-decorated buildings besides the oily black water snaking it's way beneath stone and wood bridges, the whole scene lit by dim yellow or red lanterns. Magical.
Not including transport used for sightseeing, to get to where we are now (Jingdezhen; an absolute hole of a city where we are catching the train to Xiamen), we have needed to travel on 6 coaches/buses and 5 trains; or about the same number required for crossing from one end of the UK to the other. From the clean, comfortable and massive room at Astor House, to the urine-smelling room-with-a-view-of-the-stream in Xiao Likeng, from sitting half-awake on a hard seat to the soft fluffy duvets and air-con in Beijing, our accommodation has certainly been varied.
Now to catch the sleeper train. |
|
Posted by ollyoverlandandsea on 2008-06-07 09:03:14 | Rating: | Views: 52
|
| |
|
|
