Eastern China (Part 1)

April 2003

On April 16th, I caught a subway train 75 mins west of Seoul to Incheon Port. My home for the next 21 hours was 'The New Golden Bridge III' a Korean ferry, part of the Weidong Ferry Company fleet. 13,500 tons and 146m long, it was virtually empty. I was given a nice comfortable bed in a quiet, clean 8 berth room and only had to share with two other men. It even had a TV and we were able to watch the Korea vs Japan soccer game that night. It was nice to cut myself off from the rest of the world and read, snack, sleep, take hot showers and generally relax. We left on time, though it took a tugboat an hour to drag us out into the harbour full of gigantic container ships and point us in the right direction. We sailed into a howling storm and the big waves rocked us around during the night. On deck, at 4am, the rain was horizontal.

We sailed across the Yellow Sea into the port of Qingdao on the east coast of China and arrived on time at 9.30am. The clocks went back an hour. It was my third visit to China. I had flown to Beijing/Xian with Jo in 1996, and we had crossed into the south by bus from Hong Kong near the end of our lengthy overland trip in August 2001. This time I sailed in. My first two visits are on my homepage.

First visit to China (Beijing/Xian) 1996

Second Visit to China (South West China) 2001

The second trip covers background on China so I won’t repeat it here. The only new statistic I have discovered is that China now has 2000 TV stations and 4000 TV channels (mostly local cable companies).

Of course the big news before my arrival in April was that China (or at least southeast China and Hong Kong) was in the middle of the SARS scare which was making headlines around the world. After big cover ups, the epidemic was finally obvious, even to the Chinese, everyone was running scared and their tourist industry had died a death. Indeed, I never saw another westerner from the time I left Seoul until I reached Beijing four days later. During my stay in Beijing (in the North), the real truth came out, the shit really hit the fan and I found myself living in the new SARS central that made Hong Kong figures look like a minor blip (more later).

I had entered the province of Shandong, famous for four things; the Yellow River ends its lengthy journey here; Confucious, China’s great social philosopher was born and lived here; it is home to Taishan, the most revered of China’s sacred mountains; and the ‘Boxer Rebellion’ in the late 19th Century, took place here against foreign incursions. They went to war with the west with magical spells and broadswords and were massacred by the Germans and British. Shortly afterwards, Qingdao was snatched by the Germans in 1898 who took it into the 20th Century by adding an industrial infrastructure, cobbled streets and some bad taste Bavarian architecture. By 1994, Shandong was among the four top provincial economies in China and Qingdao, the fourth largest Chinese port. Like Incheon, it was also full of container ships.

Perched on the southern seaboard of the Shandong Peninsula, Qingdao (Green Island) still has some of its German legacy. The Chinese call it ‘China’s Switzerland’ because of its cool sea breezes and clear air (Maybe they should look at an atlas. Switzerland is landlocked!). Walking into town from the ferry, I found the people open and friendly. They’d stroll up to practise their English and laugh at my guidebook Chinese to get directions.

My first sight was the Xinhao Hill Hotel (and this town had plenty of hills), Qingdao’s “most astonishing pieces of German architecture in the chunky Bavarian style” (LP). Built in 1904, the exterior was brash grey lumps of granite supporting turrets, with almost art deco touches. The interior was rich with polished wood; wooden staircases, original furnishings (1876 German piano, gun cabinet and grandfather clocks) and all the mod cons of 1904 (old electric lighting fittings and chandeliers). The German Governors spent half their time here. The Conference room had a beautiful inlaid wooden floor of light and dark wood. Chairman Mao holed up here in 1957 to hold meetings. From the balcony, there was a lovely view down the coast. All round, it was a lovely building, with lots of character, constructed when they built buildings to last.

Roaming around the grounds, I heard lots of yelling and drum beating and saw lots of large balloons hanging in the air below me. I went to explore and came across a Sports Day for the Qingdao schools. The small stadium was packed with supporters from the schools who all sat in their own sections. Below them next to the track, were teenagers dressed in colourful costumes banging on vast drums as the races took place. I think they were all a little surprised when a westerner strolled in. Lots of smiling, giggling and the girls would wave their pom poms at me (oo er). I watched half a dozen 4 x 100m relay races. Some athletes were dressed in proper gear and spikes. Others seemed to be competing in their pyjamas.

I walked on to Beach No 2, via a park where hundreds of kindergarten kids were being taken to see the blooming spring flowers. The beach was a fine spread of yellow sand and rocks and Chinese beach huts. The area was flooded with Chinese couples getting their official wedding photos. It was a surreal sight to see brides grappling with their creamy white gowns in a strong wind as they attempted the ‘pose on the rocks with the waves behind us’ Kodak moment.

Overlooking the beach was Huashilou, the former German Governor’s residence (when he wasn’t holding court at the hotel). Built in 1903, a replica of a German Palace, it cost so much that when Kaiser Wilheim II got the bill, the governor was recalled and sacked. The Chinese call it the ‘Chiang Kaishek Building’ because he secretly stayed here in 1947 before getting kicked out to Taiwan. From the outside, it was another chunk of grey stone granite and turrets. Whatever it cost, the interior is now a shabby series of empty rooms where locals have set up souvenir stalls (Chairman Mao Little Red Book anyone?) and was a big disappointment, apart from a great view of the beach. The small grounds had tacky ‘love’ theme photo opps for the honeymoon couples; A love seat, a love seasaw, and countless tacky plastic flowers. I can recommend that you don’t spend your honeymoon here!

Photo of Huashilou (bottom left)

That, for me, was Qingdao. I decided to get out of town that same afternoon and booked a hard class train seat on the 3.05 pm to Tai An. As I strolled past the long carriages, there was a smart uniformed carriage offical who stood to attention by each door (one at either end). During the slow tedious 7 and a half journey, I was surprised to see these same officials doing all of the selling in the carriages. In the old days, countless hawkers would come past selling everything imaginable. Now, it was the railway staff themselves who were pushing socks, torches, writing materials, food and drink etc.

The trip was enlivened by a wrath of god thunder and lightening storm that followed us west for 4 hours and was still hammering it down when we arrived in Tai An at 10.30pm The station was underwater! I don’t normally carry an umbrella, but I was glad I had bought one from Japan. Great, I thought, my first night in China and would be walking the streets of water, in a howling gale, weighed down by my heavy pack looking for a hotel in the dark. But fortunately, just outside the exit, someone grabbed me and steered to a hotel 100 ft away. I haggled down the price (as if I was going anywhere else in that storm) but would have paid anything that night. For less than £8, I got my own double room (no singles in China), TV and temperamental plumbing. A sign in the room said “For your safety, please keep cash and valuables in head stage” (eh?). In the train station, the “Communist Youth League” had their own waiting room (which was nice).

It pounded down with rain all night and was still overcast in the morning but I decided to climb Taishan which I could see from my room . Taishan is the most revered of the five sacred Taoist mountains of China. In the good old days, imperial sacrifices to the heavens were offered from its summit. From its heights, Confucius uttered the dictum “The world is small” (he wasn’t on form that day, probably knackered from the climb) and Chairman Mao lumbered up and declared at sunrise, “The East is Red”. No chance of a sunrise today. I declared “It were always raining on Taishan, except when it were fine and even then it were drizzling” (old Monty Python line) and lumbered off myself.

“Taishan is a uniquely Chinese experience; its supernatural allure/legend, religion and history all rolled into one, drags them up in droves” (LP). It is said that if you climb Taishan, you’ll live to be 100 and some of the grandmothers tottering up looked pretty close to that already. With 6600 steps to the summit at 1540m, it is a gruelling assault on the legs. You can drive up/catch a minibus midway and catch a cable car up another third, but that would be cheating. There are two routes; the traditional Central trail up the valley or the Western route using the twisting road. I was directed by someone and found myself on the Western route. This turned out to be a lovely gradual looping stroll past orchards and pools and flowering plants next to the river. And I never saw another person on it. The major scenic attraction was Black Dragon Pool just below Longevity Bridge over the river. Lovely waterfalls cascaded over the rocks under the bridge and also down adjoining cliff faces.

I followed a set of step stone steps, thinking that it was an alternative to the road. As I walked past a few stone houses, a chicken shot out at the speed of Roadrunner and headed for the hills. Around the corner, I discovered why. Six of his chums, newly strangled, were getting plucked and gutted by some women in the local stream. I followed the endless steps up and came across an isolated house. A woman ran out and started demanding 10 Yuan. Eh? I’d already paid an extortionate 60Y entry fee (which had doubled in 4 years) and thought, here we go, the first scam. I ignored her and she ran up and started hitting me! While her small yappy dog gave it all he was worth. I scampered up the steps thinking, oo er, the natives are a bit restless. I found myself at a dead end except for a climb to a observation point (obviously their little earner). I was completely off the route. I turned around, came back down to the house where her elderly husband had been summoned and started having a go. So now I’m fighting off the husband and wife tag team. I nearly threw their bloody yappy dog at them. Second day in the country and I’m already thinking “Come to China and meet the friendly people!”. Signposts would help.

I ended up returning down all those steps to rejoin the road and then stuck to it (I’d learnt my lesson) and kept climbing until I reached the carpark, from where the lazy people catch the cable car. From here I could see the endless flights of stairs ‘The Path of Eighteen Bends’ and over 6000 steps. The crowds were straggled out down these. It was the toughest climb I could remember; high steps and flights of them in their hundreds. I passed the puffing porters who were carrying up supplies hanging off the ends of a bendy 3m long planks; cases of eggs, vegetables, boxes of drinks. I even saw an old Chinese man getting carried down in a chair by four men (poor bastards). One wonders how many backs were broken in the building of the steps and temples accomplished without any mechanical aids.

I staggered up flights and flights of steps. My legs felt shot and I couldn’t even see the ends of the staircases. Doggedly, I pushed past the numerous Chinese tourists who were taking an awful lot of rests, on to Nantianmen (South Gate to Heaven). I was surrounded by mist and drizzly weather. The trinket sellers and temple guardians all wore thick green army overcoats which tourists could also hire. It was freezing. Pushing on past the Azure Clouds Temple, there were more steps. Through the mist, the Jade Emperor Temple appeared at the summit at 1545m. Inside the open courtyard, the tradition is to buy a padlock and secure it to chains around the bronze statues of dieties. There were thousands of them. 1m long boxes of incense were also for sale. The incense smoke mixed with the mist. Nearby was the Wordless Monument, a huge blank sided granite staele; Apparently, 2100 years ago, Emperor Wu had it dragged up, but wasn’t happy with what his scribes carved and had their etchings removed and left it blank. I think his final words were “Well, lads, that was really worth the effort wasn’t it? Collect your cards on the way out”. All the way up the flights of stairs, the rock faces and boulders and around the various temples are all covered in ancient Chinese calligraphy, lost on me, but apparently symbolic to the Chinese. They are probably written howls of pain. At the summit, a gale blew and even I was reduced to putting on long trousers over my shorts (these, along with my hairy legs had given the Chinese a lot of entertainment as I staggered past them). There were no views over the surrounding areas below.

I made the equally long and difficult descent down the 6000 odd steps, wondering if a Med Evac helicopter was in the vicinity to save me the bother. But it was worth it just to see the pained expressions on the poor sods still climbing up. I admired the porters for their tenacity, but I couldn’t work out why the guesthouses/shops didn’t have the stuff sent up in cable cars most of the way. What’s the worse job you’ve ever had? It doesn’t even come close to theirs. This mountain may be scared, but it didn’t stop tourists dropping litter everywhere.

Back at the carpark, my legs were shattered and I was tempted to get the bus back down, but, no, just for my dear readers, I descended by the Central Route with a few hundred steps down a very pleasant path through pine forests, ceremonial gateways and a few symbolic temples. There were few people on this route. I must have looked bad, even the trinket sellers took one look and thought “I haven’t got the heart to even bother the sad bastard”. Still, despite the weather, I was glad to have chosen today. Apart from the hellish steps, I had most of the rest of the day to myself. The hoards had stayed away and not a westerner in sight.

My initial reaction to China on this visit, was how loud the place was. I suppose after months in countries like India and Indonesia on the last trip, I was immune to the noise by the time I reached China. But this time, it made Seoul seem like an average English city and Japan sound like a sleepy provincial town in New Hampshire. The noise in China was like a jackhammer drilling next to your eardrums. And it was incessant 24 hours noise.

Tai An was almost a culture shock. A real “in your face” town. I’d compare it to arriving in Quetta, Pakistan after leaving Iran. Wandering downtown to find a supermarket, the streets of bedlam were an ants’ nest of activity. Car horns would beep every second of every minute. The streets were being dug up everywhere. Cars, mopeds, tripeds, small flat back trucks, huge dumper trucks with no exhausts, bicycles and pedestrians, battled for space around the rubble and potholes; no road discipline, just ignore everything around you and let them take care of themselves. Little old women would barge past me. Shops would play music at ear splitting level, so loud I was crossing the street. When I crossed the road, I had the traffic coming from all directions, even coming and going off the pavements. I was literally turning my head 360 degrees just to cross the road. They came out of nowhere. Within 30 minutes in China in Qingdao, I had seen a motorcyclist go under a car, but he was all over the shop and it wasn’t a surprise. Here, in Tai An, I watched a girl, eyes on her kebab she was eating, while cycling, crash into a moped and give the rider hell. It was her fault, she was’t looking, but noone does. I did notice one thing; you don’t see many mobile phones being used while cycling.

And then there was the incessant clearing of throats and spitting. I had forgotten this most vile Chinese habit that drives you up the wall. In South Korea, the girls/women have a habit of chewing and cracking gum loudly (especially on buses) and then you’d heard them snort their nose rather than use a handkerchief and continue chewing (must add flavour; a real classy touch, girls!), but the Chinese throat clearing made them seem like proper ladies. It was both men and women. The men do it in their stride. Its starts somewhere in the subcockles of their diaphragm and this long guttural wrenching just keeps on going in slow motion, until they bring up the phlegm. Then there is a split second pause while it gets a brief chew and gets shot out of their mouth like an arrow, sounding like a crack of a whip. Volume is important. Make sure anyone within the vicinity of, say, Taiwan, has heard you clear your throat. Then repeat it, oh, until the next train or bus arrives and then keep it up. The train platforms, carriages and pavements are littered with large wads of gob. Maybe they’ll try and have ‘gobbing’ entered as a new Olympic Sport for the 2008 Beijing Olympics. I don’t know what’s in the air here but they sound like they all come from Kentucky/Tennessee Appalachian coal mines. Oh and don’t forget to light up a cigarette after 3 or 4 throat clearings. And you wonder why SARS started in China.

I checked out of my hotel, left my gear at the train station left luggage and decided on a day trip to Qufu, birthplace of Confucius. For once, Lonely Planet got it right “of monumental significance to the Chinese…Qufu has suffered a blight of tourism that would have the Great Sage pulling out the remains of his beard; prepare to wander the streets frog marched by map sellers and trinket vendors”. A minibus dropped me south about 90 minutes later. I had three things to see. First up, Confucius Temple, a vast walled area over a kilometre long. Inside was quagmire of mud, shitty looking houses, stinking sewage, alleyways and shops. I searched high and low for the Confucius Temple (with more than 1000 stele) but I never found it. I think it must have been knocked down (or was covered in shit). Honest! It was one of the shittest areas I can remember seeing anywhere in China.

After that, it got slightly better. I did find Confucius Mansions, dating from the 16th Century Ming Dynasty. The place is a maze of 450 halls, rooms and buildings and lots of side passages used by the servants. They belonged to the Kong family, the descendants of Confucius, who must have name dropped enough to get a following. The Mansions are apparently, “the most sumptious aristocratic lodgings in China, which is indicative of the Kong families former great power. From the Han to the Qing dynasties, the descendants of Confucius were ennobled and granted privileges by the emperors and they lived like Kings themselves” (LP). It’s a pity none of them were ever made a king. They’d have been called King Kong. (ho ho). The town of Qufu grew up around the Mansions, an autonomous estate. It was packed with Chinese tour groups (all wearing uniform red caps) and was a pretty scruffy affair. It hadn’t worn well. The administrative buildings and residential quarters (with some original furnishings) looked depressingly gloomy. The interior painting needed some serious renovation. Despite its illustrious past, it wasn’t very stunning.

Outside the Mansion walls on the streets, some of Confucius’ sayings were displayed. One said “If you want to be knowledgeable, then consult others; if you want to be capable, then try to learn; if you want to do something, make full preparations beforehand; if you want to be successful, try to be bold and vigorous in your work”. I was disappointed not to see “Confucius say “Man with hole in pocket can feel cocky all day”. I have decided that I will sponsor a few more of his lesser-known sayings. These include;

Passionate kiss like spider's web, soon lead to undoing of fly.
Man who run in front of car get tired; Man who run behind car get exhausted.
Man who walk through airport turnstile sideways going to Bangkok
Man with one chopstick go hungry
Man who eat many prunes get good run for money
Wife who put husband in doghouse soon find him in cat-house

I walked a mile north, along the original old ceremonial road into town, to the Confucius Forest; the “largest artificial park and best preserved cemetery in China” (LP). The pine and cypress forest of over 20,000 trees covers 200 hectares and is surrounded by a 10km long wall. Buried here, is the great sage himself and all his descendants. Flanking the approach to his tomb are a pair of stone panthers, griffins and larger than life guardians. The Confucius Tumulus is a simple grass mound. Scattered through the forest are hundreds of sculptures, tablets and tombstones. The Chinese, being Chinese, pay to climb aboard open shuttle buses to take in the sights at rapid speed, so they can get back to clearing their throats, but I decided to walk around the grounds which I had to myself. Beautiful long tailed birds fluttered around the trees. It was completely silent apart from the occasional bus rushing past. But it wasn’t a patch on the Japanese cemetery I saw on New Years Day.

I was glad to escape the muddy town of non stop hawkers. Back in Tai An, I found a sleeper bus heading for Beijing at 7.30pm. People started piling up outside. The crew locked inside, saw me, and invited me in for a chat. They let me choose my bed in advance of the crowds. The narrow bed had a thick eiderdown and was very comfortable. I slept through most of the 10 hour journey. Soldiers flashed torches in the bus during the night, but they never saw me.

Arriving in sleepy Beijing around 5am, I walked past an old woman doing her early morning stretching exercises. She had her foot on a fence up above her head. She must have been 70. Don’t try this at home. I’d see quite a few groups of elderly people doing their exercises when I took off early every morning. I also noticed outdoor gyms in the parks. Not exactly state of the art stuff; more like children’s playgrounds of basic equipment. Noone likes to see old people lifting weights.

I walked to a hotel that supposedly did dorm rooms. Reception was closed. Two uniformed security guards looked at me impassively and said nothing. I checked out the lobby toilets which were full of unflushed shit and filthy; a nice Chinese touch. The hotel had scrapped dorm beds and I walked onto another which was definitely geared to the backpacker with an entire annex of comfortable 6 bed en suite dorm rooms at £2.70 a night. The Jinghua Hotel, which also took in tour groups in the main hotel had open areas, an empty swimming pool, a concrete pond with ducks and most importantly a 24 hour bar/restaurant that sold ice cold local beer at 25p a pint. Tourism was dead. It was virtually deserted, though a variety of travellers passed through my room during the week, mostly leaving the country. My first westerners in China.

The hotel leaflet said (Spelling not corrected) “The startard rooms … are peacefle… equipped with modern facilities clean toilet air condition, telephoncall…. and has a clinking hall…. Your presence is cordially repuested”. I assume the clinking hall was the 24 hour bar.

It was a 7am on a clear Sunday morning, and after checking in, I was straight out and off to climb the Great Wall of China. My hotel was south of Tiananmen Square. A local No 14 bus (1 Yuan flat fare, about 8p) took me to the subway system. Local Chinese buses are different from the West. You climb in a door near the back. A woman conductress has a narrow corridor of about 3m down one side, with a bar protecting her from the crush. She wanders up and down her aisle and takes your money. The bus system was very prolific and efficient. Never more than a 5 minute wait anytime of the day for that bus. The subway system had increased since my 1996 visit. The basic circle line now had an east to west line running through it. Centrally based, it got you around town very quickly at 3 Yuan flat fare (23p) anywhere around the system. The lists of stations on boards even had travel times between them down to the second. You could cross the city in 30 minutes. It was clean and efficient and had English signposts. No automatic barriers. You bought your ticket from a ticket office and it was ripped by someone else almost immediately. That was it. No checking at the other end.

At Donggzhimen Long Distance Bus Station, I caught a bus north west to Huairu, changed to another for Huangua and found myself in lovely rolling hills and rural countryside. Small villages, groups of men and women planting trees, weeding, digging holes. Flocks of sheep and goats; it was nice to see open livestock again after a total lack in both Japan and South Korea. Lots of donkeys were tethered and munching on maize stalks. The local villages were gearing up for future tourism. There were large piles of red bricks along the side of the road. One set of bricklayers would construct small half metre half “castle walls” outside the buildings. They were followed by both men and women who would cover the bricks in an ugly grey communist coloured concrete to give them a smooth finish.

The Great Wall of China stretched from the east coast of China to the Gobi Desert, further than London to Moscow. Originally begun over 2000 years ago (220BC), it was built by the Qin Dynasty to keep out the marauding nomads from the north. It never really worked as a defensive system, but was useful as a kind of elevated highway, allowing soldiers and equipment to cross the country and provide a communication system using smoke signals to let Beijing know was happening . During the Ming Dynasty in the 16th Century, a determined effort was made to improve the project and this is what you mostly see today. It is China’s Number One Tourist attraction. And no, you can’t see it from the Moon.

On my previous trip in 1996, Jo and I had headed 110km northwest of Beijing to visit the Simitai Great Wall which hugged the hills at 1500m. It was spectacular. At that time, it was a relatively unvisited area, the western tourists all being taken to the completely reconstructed Badaling area. But word had got out and it was now firmly on the day tripper itinery.

Inbetween Badaling and Simitai, about 60km north of Beijing, long stretches of the wall stride across the region’s lofty mountain ranges. This “wild wall” at Huangua (‘Yellow Flower Fortress’), is remote, lonely, unspoilt, overgrown and crumbling. There are no tickets, signposts or rubbish. It clings to a high hillside adjacent to a reservoir; a classic and well preserved example of 16th Century Ming defences with high and wide ramparts, intact parapets and sturdy beacon towers. Apparently, someone called Lord Cai was responsible for building this section and he was meticulous about its quality. Each inch of the wall represented a whole day’s work for one labourer. The extravagant costs led to his execution but it was later acclaimed as some of the best construction of the Great Wall.

There are two long sections to climb either side of the dam that has breached the wall at the end of the road. I tackled the left hand side first, the Zhuangdaokou Walk. To ascend, I had to walk up a trail through a local’s land. A little old lady charged me 23p (Simitai was £8 even back in 1996). I could see the imposing wall creeping up to a ridge. Amazingly, I had this entire length of wall to myself. Everyone else chooses the more imposing Gaping Jaw Walk on the other side. The wall, about 3m wide was overgrown with flowering blossoms. I climbed up to the Second Watch Tower where there was an engraved tablet to say it had been constructed in 1579. Climbing up further to a derelict tower, there was a spectacular panoramic view around the area. Looking west, I could see my section of wall disappear down into the valley, back up, and following a ridge to the horizon to Fenghuangtuo Mountain at 1530m. To the east, I could see the wall do the same same in the other direction. The wall often didn’t follow contours, they just went up and down the valleys; whatever it took to defend them. It was a view I will never forget, especially on a magnificently clear sunny day with a few puffs of cloud (just like my previous visit). I followed the wall, around the ridge and then returned back to the dam.

From here, I started the formidable ascent east up the Gaping Jaw walk. Another 23p to tramp through an orchard to reach the wall. I climbed up past the first three towers past small gaggles of Chinese tourists and a few westerners. The Chinese exclaimed admiration at my t shirt and shorts and asked to have their photo taken with me. I learnt Chinese for “the fat sweaty bastard”. Walking up the wall can be tough going; unlevel crumbling surfaces, dust, bushes and Taishan amounts of steps both up and down. The wall was very tall and there were long drops on either side, often with no protection.

The Perfectly Preserved Tower (4th Watch Tower) was in exceptionally good condition. To climb up into the tower was a rickety old wooden ladder of branches and string. Some joker had decided to set up a scam and try and charge 2 Yuan to use the ladder. It was an obvious scam. No sign. No ticket. You didn’t need the ladder and I wasn’t buying it. I attempted to ignore the ladder and climb up an adjoining wall which had a long drop below but would allow me to step up into the tower. The Chinese guy decided to attack me. He pulled me down, along with the ladder and I crashed down on top of him with the ladder crushing his ankle. At this point, he obviously decided that I was a little too big to take on, mostly because he couldn’t stand up, and I climbed back up the wall and into the tower. But my legs had taken a bashing, blood flowing out of a shin and both knees. Great country. In the space of the first four days, I’d been attacked twice. But I am too used to the Chinese art of exploiting the foreigner and fight it every time.

From here, after I resisted the idea of going back and hurling the ladder over the side, there was a really steep and dusty section upwards; endless stone steps, like a stairway to heaven to a dilapidated battle platform with another epic panoramic view. Here I could see the wall stretching onwards to the east and look back across at what I had climbed on the other side of the dam. A brief ridge and then a plunging drop the mountain side. Steep, crumbling and deteriorated steps, (completely worn away at one point, which meant a tackling of a 4m long crumbling cliff with a long drop on both sides) took me down to the valley. Noone followed me down. It just looked too risky and arduous to tackle. Climbing back up the next stage of wall, I had a picnic in the sun at the Ming Renovated Tower, while looking up and watching everyone turn around. I’d been walking up and down the wall for over 5 hours and in the heat and dust, I felt pooped, and decided I’d done it justice. It must be a great experience to walk the wall for days and sleep in the watchtowers. During the day, I’d here loud firecracker explosions which echoed around the valley, but I don’t know what the celebration was.

All things considered, I’d rate the Great Wall of China as one of the Top 5 “historical places” I have visited so far in the World. There is nothing like it anywhere else. It simply commands your attention and you never forget the experience.

I had kept looking at my map, and Mongolia looked tantalisingly close. So what the hell, lets check out the Mongolian Embassy in Beijing and see what’s what. Finding the place was an experience in itself. Without an proper address, it took me two hours. I asked for directions from numerous people who would either blank me, wave their arms away or just send you anywhere. You are always hoping that just one person will have some English to understand, and they are few and far between. I eventually flagged down a police motorcyclist who pointed out in Chinese that it was in a Embassy Compound a few kilometres away. The one thing that strikes you about Beijing is how vast the blocks and boulevards are. When someone says turn right at the next block it might be a kilometre away. Even the bus stops are worlds away from each other. It is exhausting, but I refuse to use a taxi on principle. Half the fun is finding the place (not in this case however).

Getting into the compound was another series of soldiers/security guards looking at the passport. One guy put on a face mask and gloves before he’d even talk to me or look at my passport (“worried about SARS are you?” I asked but he didn’t speak English). As with most Embassies, it was only open two hours a day and I made the door with 20 minutes to go. I filled in a comprehensive form (parents names, high school grades, last tax return, name of last dead pet etc) and attached a photo. Behind the glass counter, a woman wearing a facemask asked a Dutch girl in front of me for a Health Certificate from a hospital to say she didn’t have SARS. ‘But I’m from Holland. We don’t have such things”. I piped up “It’s the same in England”. There was a back room conference and they let us submit our forms. $40 visa $3 admin. Pick it up on Thursday.

Then I walked to the International Hotel where the official Chinese International Train Ticketing agency was. Only two trains a week, Wednesday and Saturday from Beijing to Ulaan Batar. I booked a hard sleeper seat for the Saturday (£46) for the 30 odd hour journey. Oh well, guess I’m going to Mongolia. It did mean I was stuck in Beijing for the week. I had already spent a week here in 1996 and had visited all the major sights. But I could occupy myself. It also meant I’d have to squeeze the rest of China and Taiwan into a tight schedule.

That day (Monday) I read in the China Daily that SARS cases in Beijing had shot up from 27 last week to 339. 18 dead. 1,807 clinically diagnosed SARS cases in China and 79 dead so far. The officials were starting to uncover the truth. It was just the opening volley of the shitstorm about to hit the city. At that point, few people were wearing facemasks. I thought they were wearing them for hay fever or traffic pollution. I had been under the impression that SARS was a southern Chinese problem.

Beijing Background; 12.6m pop. Capital of the People’s Republic of China. It has been the capital since 1368 (Ming Dynasty). The whole country runs on Beijing time, regardless of time zones. It is a relatively clean city (but the rivers/canals smell!). Wide boulevards and high rises but still a low level city. No major tower. It has a very orderly design with the Forbidden Palace and Tiananmen Square at its centre. Beijing Municipality is roughly the size of Belgium (no wonder I got tired walking around!).

I was also surprised to find that internet cafes were virtually non existent in Beijing. It took an age to find one. Mobile phone numbers were also far fewer in number than in Japan/Korea. Apart from mobile phones, offers of DVDs, and a few more shopping malls and western fast food franchises (including Mr Lee’s California Beef Noodle King U.S.A, “its chopstick slurping good”), I didn’t notice much difference from 1996. As many people were still cycling around, rush hours were floods of cyclists pedalling along the wide bicycle lanes. More cars, but the traffic ran pretty smoothly.

Beijing has many sights; the top two are the Forbidden Palace and the Summer Palace, but I had visited the former twice and spent a day at the latter in 1996 and they are covered elsewhere on the homepage. So I didn’t bother with them (sorry) and generally walked around the city and the alleyways, looking for new stuff, cheap internet and bookshops that sold western books. Both few and far between.

But I strolled through Tiananmen Square everyday. The heart of Beijing, it is a vast desert of pavement. Chairman Mao’s creation (to review military parades). In 1976, a million people jammed the square to pay their last respects to him. In 1989, army tanks and soldiers cut down pro democracy demonstrators. Surrounding or studding the square is a strange mishmash of monuments; Tiananmen (Heavingly Peace Gate), Chinese Revolution History Museum, the Great Hall of the People, Qianmen (Front Gate), the Mao Mausoleum and the Monument to the People’s Heroes. I watched the flag dropping ceremony performed by a troop of soldiers drilled to march precisely 108 steps per minute, 75cm per pace. They looked like clockwork soldiers after the spring had gone haywire.

Tiananmen Gate is a national symbol. Built in the 15th and restored in the 17th Century, it functioned as a rostrum for imperial proclamations to the masses. Five doors to the gate and in front are seven stone bridges spanning a stream. Only the Emperor could use the middle bridge. From here, on Oct 1st 1949, Mao proclaimed the People’s Republic. The dominating feature is the gigantic portrait of Mao. To the left of him is the slogan “Long Live the People’s Republic of China” and his right “Long Live the Unity of the Peoples of the World”. I wonder how long before someone paints a facemask on his face?

Early one morning I went to see Mao himself. I had seen him before. I just wanted to check that the old bastard was still dead. Even at that time, there were thousands of Chinese tourists lined up. It’s the only time you’ll see them in an orderly line. No bags or cameras. I joined the masses and the line moved pretty quickly into the enormous Mausoleum. Some tourists bought small bunches of plastic flowers which they deposited in a cart with a bow in front a giant white seated statue of Mao in the vast entrance foyer. Then we shuffled past him laying there under a glass case. I’m sure it was a dead walrus under a blanket with a rubber face mask over its head. We were out in minutes, never stopping as the guards yelled to move on. Outside on the other side were stalls selling Mao medals, photos, key rings, watches. No sign of Mao on a rope soap so I settled for a tie clip. I already have his Little Red Book (which remains unread).

The Chinese Revolution History Museum was closed as was the Great Hall of the People; venue of the rubber stamp legislature, the National People’s Congress. It was here that Richard Nixon was wined and dined in 1972.

I walked down to the National History Museum 3km south, the largest such museum in China and one of the worst I have seen in living memory. Imagine an old Communist museum built in the early 1970s and left to rot. Even the staff looked dead. I had come to see the human cadaver cut in half to show the insides, but even he had legged it. They were very proud of their dinosaur hall in the basement, which was an terrible amateurish affair. About the only thing that moved in the museum were the cramped fish in the aquarium. I beg you, even if you are hard pushed, to go nowhere near this museum. It demands to be put out of its misery!

The Lama Temple on the other hand is unmissable. I had visited it before. It is the most renowned Tibetan Buddhist Temple in China (outside Tibet) and it is also the most colourful temple in Beijing. The temple was originally a 1694 palace, but converted into a Lamasery in 1744. The main buildings are built along a central axis, enclosed by a wall.

The exterior/interior painting matched anything I had seen in South Korea and brought back vivid memories of the Tibetan monasteries we'd seen in 2001. In addition, the temples themselves had splendid statues and deities inside, including the statue of Maitreya Buddha which at 26m tall was carved out of a single white sandalwood tree and in the Guinness Book of Records. A truely remarkable piece of art. One day, UNESCO will grab this place. On the Information For Tourists Board, it stated; "No 9. Pay attention to civilisation of opperance"

One morning, I took off out of town for a daytrip to Shibu 110km south east of Beijing. Around dawn, I walked to Beijing’s South Railway station (Yongdingmen), a few kilometres from the hotel. In 2008, when I see Beijing put on its glitz hosting the Olympics, I will remember the scenes of this grim station. People camped out on the dirty bare floors, litter strewn everywhere, throat clearing and spitting; it looked like a scene out of a Charles Dickens novel. It was in stark contrast to the Embassy district in the west, full of flashy hotels, McDonalds et all, like a western colony in Beijing.

The area around Shidu is Beijing’s answer to the Guilin area in southern China which we had visited in 2001. Its pinnacle shaped rock formations of karst limestone were wonderful. I spent the day walking around the massive hills with long sheer drops off the cliffs, over the hills and through the valleys. The fields had lots of horses grazing in them and shepherds herded flocks of fluffy white goats. I explored isolated farming hamlets where the local women sat in sewing circles and the small children ran and hid and then poked their heads out and smiled. I guess they don’t see many westerners. Despite a hazy day that got worse as the day wore on, it was magnificent scenery. It hardly gets about a mention in the guidebook but it has some of the best scenery in China. I got my haircut in the small town at the only hairdresser with a couple of giggling young girls. One of them was giving an old man a black dye job. She washed his hair and then pasted on black dye with a paintbrush and stuck him under a dryer. He looked like Les Dawson (old English comedian) doing one of his old biddy female impersonations. While I was getting my 23p trim (read and weep), he kept yelling what I think was “Are you sure this is working. I don’t want it to go wrong and leave looking like a plonker”.

Later in the day, I discovered the tourist area by a reservoir with a cable car to a summit. On a clear day it must have been quite a view. Today from the lake it was locked in mist. Speedboat rides, Chinese rafting (don’t ask) and bungee jumping over the water. I watched a couple of youths throw themselves off (been there, done that). There was also a horse riding area. The saddles were very flat, covered in a blanket. At first, I thought they were bareback riding. No crash helmits either. I walked past the Firework Display area called the “Ten Cross Mist Flower Firecracker Set Off Drop”. Why use two words when you can use eight. A set of rules by the lake said “No 6. The tourist has high blood pressure, heart disease, brain blood vessel disease, epilepsy, drunk, drug addiction is not suited to participate, The weight more than 100kg is not allowed to participate rubber boat”. Well, excuse me, I didn’t realise I had all those problems. I didn’t want to participate rubber boat anyway. What is brain blood vessel disease?. There was a poster of the “flied rock” (does that come with flied lice?). And on the map it said “watching place for gungy jumping” (is that where you drop into a lagoon of mud?). It is still a great day trip. One problem; one train in and one train out a day. But the railway is elevated and you travel through many tunnels through the rocks with tantalising views in between the tunnels.

On the Thursday morning I went to pick up my 14 day Mongolian visa. Finding the place was no problem. Getting in was. The girl had forgotten the office keys and the guy whose job was to take the money and hand back the passports was late. It only took 90 minutes. Were they working on Mongolian time? Overnight, Beijing had turned paranoid towards SARS. About 60% of the people and half the few western tourists were now wearing white face masks (I even saw one guy wearing a gas mask) and many wore woollen gloves. People avoided me and would not sit next to me on the bus or subway. Noone would stop if I asked for directions. Finally, a China where noone hassles you! The Mongolian Embassy even had a facemask wrapped around the door handle to pull it open. When I used the toilet at a posh western style hotel, the attendant wiped down the taps after me.

So why the change? During the week, the Mayor and the top city health official had both been fired for incompetence in dealing with the situation. The schools closed down for two weeks (letting loose 1.7m students on the streets), the May Week National Holiday was cancelled by the Government and people were told not to travel. Eggs had doubled in price, and people were starting to hoard food in a panic that everywhere was about to shut down. Fortunately they didn’t take my Smoked Goose flavoured potato crisps at the supermarket.

The China Daily stated that Beijing now had 693 cases, 782 suspected cases and 35 deaths. 2,305 cases in China and Beijing was now SARS central. Run away! Run away! Why was everyone looking at me nervously, apart from the fact that I wasn’t wearing a face mask. In the hotel bar, I had met an English guy who had been teaching here for 18 months. He told me that the Chinese media had now admitted that China had a problem, but that their SARS was not as serious as the foreign cases. It was the foreigners who were bringing in the more deadly cases! No wonder they were looking at me nervously. You have to love Chinese officialdom. Crisis? What crisis? Oh it’s the foreigners fault.

An article in the newspaper labelled “Quality Care For Beijing’s Ex Patriots” said “Since April 3rd, the public areas, including lobbies, elevators, hallways, corridors, stairways and handrails of the diplomatic residence buildings and office buildings have been cleaned and disinfected everyday”. Which is nice. Keep the diplomats alive and sod the tourists. One backpacker told me that on the train to Beijing, a westerner had started coughing violently. They stopped the train and he was put in an ambulance. No argument.

Personally, as someone who has drunk the local water in every country I’ve visited, and eaten everything imaginable at street markets, and completed the winter Tough Guy competition naked, I don’t even worry about SARS. Ice cold beer every evening after miles of walking always does the trick. But if anyone starts coughing in public, people look worried. Of course, it doesn’t stop the throat clearing and spitting. That’s not a cough. That’s a pasttime.

On Saturday morning, I would leave SARS Central and head for Mongolia. I expected serious grief on the border. (As I typed this up originally, the internet cafe was closing so all the computers could be disinfected from SARS contagion! All internet cafes were closed for the rest of my time in China).