The Movie - Part 1

Kirsten spent ages cutting together this video of the first six months of our travels. Enjoy! Note: If this doesn't work, use the lower quality version embedded below.

Shanghai

Once known as the whore of Asia, back in the pre-war concession era, modern Shanghai is more about fine dining than drug running these days.


We started with pre-dinner cocktails at the Marriott. The lobby is on the 38th floor – a dwarf by Shanghai standards, but enough to give the feeling that you're an extra in the Jetsons, and to induce sudden vertigo as you lean too far into the window for a photo. Our next stop was the rather tacky Sky Dome Bar, inside a UFO plonked on top of the 45 storey Radisson, the other side of People's Square (there's also a revolving restaurant inside the UFO, which I'm sure will has fantastic views, if not food).



For dinner we headed down to The Bund – the former British concession on the left bank of the Huangpu river, where western companies built grandiose headquarters in the early 20th century. Empty since the war; now the most expensive shops, bar and restaurants jockey for space inside – capitalism goes full circle. Our choice was New Heights on the top floor of Three on the Bund – a fusion restaurant (i.e. modern European). One hundred quid lighter, we sat at the roof bar to admire the Blade Runner night scape across the river in Pudong.



We started day two with brunch in the French Concession, before going on a hunt for a replacement for my increasingly knackered rucksack (I've had it 10 years, it's been a lot of places, but there's only so much I can do with gaffer tape). The hotel, malls and metro are all nicely air-conditioned; the streets however, are like a Turkish Bath, and stepping outside can be a frankly unpleasant experience.



New rucksack safely secured, we made for the Bund Tourist Tunnel. This is a rail tunnel under the Huangpu, where some bright spark had the great idea of running perspex bubble cars, while filling the tunnel with psychedelic lighting, and having inflatable ghouls for your car to run over. The tourist experience is completed by having an annex of the China Sex Museum at the other end (admission included with our ticket).



Dinner was at Yin in the French Concession – good quality Chinese with no MSG. And in true colonial style, the only Chinese in the place were the staff.



The Boat to Japan
Our two day ferry to Kobe left the international passenger terminal at lunch time, in stifling heat and humidity. We could barely see the Oriental Pearl Tower across the river, which was a pity as the journey down the Huangpu promised to offer superb views back to the city.



The level of traffic on the river is incredible, with perhaps a dozen barges carrying coal, sand and timber, passing every minute on their way up stream. Before the Huangpu hits the Yangtze estuary, the banks become increasingly industrial; first with ship yards, then factories, which leave a nasty smell in the air. It was at this point that we hit a heavy thunder storm. The deck quickly flooded, and as I ran around in my flip-flops, with countless lightening flashes all around, it accrued to me that I might make a good lightening conductor. Alas the storm quickly passed, and we crossed a very clam East China Sea.

Being a Japanese vessel, there was of course a Karaoke bar. Karaoke is treated differently to the UK (where it's only done when very drunk, and usually sounds like a cat being tortured) – blokes would wander in, pay their 100 yen (50 pence), sing a song, and then leave. Whether anyone was listening seems unimportant. On the second night the 100 yen fee was dropped, leading the place being packed with various quality Chinese and Japanese karaoke.

Yichang

After our Yangtze cruise, we had 24 hours in Yichang before our train to Shanghai. We found lunch at a small food market (spicy noodles and potatoes, plus bread, all for under a quid) and sat down to eat amongst the bemused stares of the locals (we didn't see another westerner for our whole time here).
After lunch we wandered through the 'fresh' food market - bags of live frogs, snakes, and fish gasping for oxygen in tiny tanks. Fortunately we turned off before the fresh dog section. To resupply for our day long train to Shanghai, we found a large supermarket. Upstairs we got the usual pot-noddles and biscuits; downstairs was the fresh fish counter. As we arrived one of the occupants made a dash for freedom, flopping hopelessly in the isle in front of us. It was quickly recaptured by the fishmonger, and the prompt thud of a meat cleaver signalled its fate.

In the evening the main square was full of competing groups doing Tai Chi, ballet, and hip hop (amongst other things). Walking through I wasn't sure who was more bemused by who. I suspect this sort of thing goes on every night, given that this was an uneventful Tuesday evening in September.

Three Gorges

Chongqing
Another day, another train - this time the overnight train to Chongqing in Sichuan province. We were initially troubled to find that we were to be sharing our 4-birth soft class cabin with a small child (accompanied by his parents), but actually he was extremely well behaved so didn't interrupt our sleep. Instead this was disturbed by the cabin attendant who woke us up a good hour before we arrived at our destination at 6am. [A short aside on children's toilet habits in China: it appears to be the custom for toddlers to wear trousers with no gusset and no pants or nappy. This conveniently allows them to urinate and/or defecate whenever and wherever they need, including in the middle of a busy street or market.]



We arrived in Chongqing on time but dazed, confused and starving. Unfortunately we had no idea where to go, no guidebook and a good eleven hours to kill before we could board the boat for our Yangtze river cruise. We started by ordering a bowl of killer spicy noodles with assistance from a friendly local who could manage a few words of English – it was looking like communication was going to be considerably harder here than in Beijing or Xi'an. Richard then ingeniously managed to buy a town map and although it was all in Mandarin we decided that the obelisk looking thing might be downtown and finally we got a taxi to agree to take us there. It turned out to be an excellent guess and we soon found ourselves in the central square surrounded by elderly ladies doing their early morning Tai Chi and in sight of both the Golden Arches and a KFC. However, as the thought of sitting on our rucksacks all day didn't appeal, and there was no sign of left luggage at the station, we checked into the nearest hotel. A bit flashpackery I know, but it was worth it for a shower and free internet.




Chongqing is situated on a rock peninsula at the confluence of the Yangtze and Jialing rivers. However, the pollution is so bad that despite our hotel room being on the 19th floor all we could see of the rivers was a white haze. There didn't seem to be much to do for tourists which was evident by the fact we didn't see another westerner all day. However, we enjoyed quick walk around the park, listening to the twittering of birds in cages and the beautiful sound of the Chinese hacking cough followed by a powerful spit. Richard was relieved to get me past the cages of puppies for sale without me buying one.



At around 7pm we jumped in a taxi brandishing the address of the dock for our boat written in Mandarin. We arrived at what we were assured was Pier 3 and proceeded through a security check and down a cable car to the dock side. (All of the piers are currently considerably below the level of towns to allow for the rising level of the Yangtze as a result of the Three Gorges Dam project.) We were a bit suspicious that something was amiss when we could see no sign of our our boat, The Emperor, and no sign of any other western tourists. After some rather frustrating attempts and conversation with the staff at the pier, a panicked phone call to our travel agent in Beijing, and a frantic run to Pier 9 (to which our boat had been relocated), we finally made aboard. We knew that we were in the right place this time as we were greeted with a chorus of drums and a dragon.



Yangtze River Cruise
We were in two minds as to whether doing the cruise was a good idea, fearing that we would be in tacky tour group hell, with badly performed cabarets, talent shows and audience participation games. We were not disappointed and all of the above were included with the extra special addition of early morning muzak wake up calls over the PA, announcements telling you to go to dinner or attend a Chinese embroidery demonstration.



Despite this, it still manages to be quite a magical experience watching the majestic Yellow river drift by look up in awe at the towering gorges. You also feel quite lucky to be here now as by this time next year the river should be another 30 meters higher because of the dam, potentially diminishing some of the grandeur.



We had two half day excursions – the first to Fengdu, a temple complex nicknamed “the City of Ghosts”, which is a little disneyesque and nothing to write home about. However, the second, a boat trip through the Little Three Gorges was lovely – the rising water level has turned this once shallow, fast moving tributary, into a long, thin lake. Eventually it becomes a river once more, and we transferred to small traditional wooden boats which were rowed up the narrow gorge by a team of six boatmen. When the river gets too shallow and rapid for rowing they jump out and pull the boat via a series of ropes – extremely hard work. In olden days they used to do this in the buff to avoid chaffing. Unfortunately they now wear clothes so as not to shock the tourists, although given the eldest was a sprightly eighty perhaps this is a good thing.



On the final day, we had a tour of the Three Gorges Dam. The guide wheeled off a series of mind boggling facts – The world's largest hydro-electric power station, the dam measures 185m high and 2km wide. The project is expected to have cost just under 30 billion USD and has required over 1 million people to be relocated When complete it is expected to produce 22.5 gigawatts, improve navigation of the river and provide a significant defence to flooding which has had a devastating impact on millions of people in the past. However, you probably only need 15 minutes to visit the site rather than the hour we got.



In all, provided you approach the tacky parts tongue in cheek it was a worthwhile experience. We particular enjoyed the rendition of Michael Jackson's Thriller by one tour group in the talent show and the chance to strut our stuff on the dance floor in the tacky disco.

Xi'an

This place is better than I expected. The vibrant Muslim quarter is just behind our hotel; it's a great place for a stroll (if you can avoid being run over by a tuk tuk) and offers varied foods, including what looked like a set of lungs.
The city is enclosed by massive city walls, which have been reconstructed/modified to allow large roads through each of the four gates. We walked down to the south gate and hired a tandem, completing one circuit of the walls in 80 minutes.

Of course the main reason to visit Xi'an is for the Terracotta Warriors. We booked a trip that included Banpo village, the Qin tomb, the Terracotta Warriors and Huaqing Pool.
Banpo village is an archaeological site dating from 4500BC. I like a bit of history as much as the next man, but I can't get all Tony Robinson over some ancient post holes and broken pottery.

The tomb of Qin Shi Huang has never been excavated; officially for technical reasons, but perhaps because they sent in probes and found nothing. This important fact has not prevented the construction of one of the world's worst tourist attractions, in the form of a "reconstruction" of the Qin tomb - brought to you by the Blue Peter team. It really is jaw-droppingly bad.

Next we were to see how the terracotta warriors were made. This is of course a thinly veiled disguise for a visit to a warehouse selling tourist tack. Next was lunch, which would have been over quickly, if two members of the group had not wandered into the silk factory.

So five hours into the tour we finally arrived at our primary destination. However the tack is far from over. First there is the Qin Dynasty International Plaza, with architecture from the good people who brought you Milton Keynes. I don't want to down play the actual terracotta army, but what you get is exactly what you'd expected - nothing more and nothing less. There are three hangers sheltering the pits in which the re-assembled soldiers stand in battle formation - pit 1 is the largest and best known.

Our final stop was the Huaqing pool - a hot spring complex that supposedly dates back to the 11th century BC, but now looks like the pool complex of a 3-star hotel. The tour of this site was truly soporific.

My advice would be to do a surgical strike on the army (so to speak); in and out in half a day, and stay well clear of the rest of the out of town tack.

We now have a 15 hour train to Chongqing, arriving at 6am.

Beijing

Another day, another border crossing - this time into China. It seems all the border guards had been to pre-Olympic charm school; it was all smiles and please & thank yous. Russia/Mongolia are on a different gauge to China (and the rest of the world), so the boggies have to been changed at the border. The train is split up in a large shed, then the carriages are lifted by hydraulic jacks, the Russian boggies wheeled out and the Chinesse ones rolled in. The whole process took two hours, and you do wonder whether it would have been simpler just to have swapped trains.

We arrived in Beijing early afternoon having ran parallel to a section of the great wall, and past through Beijing's endless suburbs. Smelling like a camel's arse, we showered before making contact with our man on the ground, Jamie (in Beijing on secondment, before conveniently moving to Tokyo) . We shovelled two loads of foul smelling clothes into his washing machine, before heading out for food in a typical cavernous Chinese restaurant, with display tanks for choose-your-own-fish.

We'd planed to start our sight seeing at 10:30. I naively assumed that the heavy thunder storm over night would have cleared the air, leaving bright sunshine - we got grey drizzle. Our hotel is superbly located near the north-east corner of the Forbidden City, so we entered through the north gate, opposite the normal direction of tourist flow.

We shunned the chance to listen to Sean Connery's commanding and informative audio guide, and instead opted for Jamie reading out of the Rough Guide. Hence I know very little about the place except for the eunuchs' entrance exam (hot peppered water to act as a anaesthetic, a very sharp knife, removal of the meat and two veg, and the insertion of a solder plug. Ow!). The place is indeed massive, and does a good job at absorbing the thousands of (mainly Chinese) tourists that pour through its gates every hour. The Chinese tourist some times seem more interested in their western counterparts than the buildings - we were all dragged into various holiday snaps.

After leaving through Tiananmen gate (the one from which Mao's portrait hangs), we did a sharp right and headed to Beijing's iconic egg shaped opera house. Worth a visit if you're a fan of contemporary architecture, or just fancy a break from the crowds. We finished off in Tiananmen Square, too late to queue up to see Mao's corpse (it had already been lowered into its underground freezer at this point).

That evening our Trans-Siberia entourage arranged to meet at the Sick Duck restaurant. We struggled to find the place and stood out side the Quanjude Peking Duck Restaurant for some time, before it occurred to Rob (via a quick web search on the iPod) that Sick Duck was a nickname (due to its proximity to the Peking Union Medical College Hospital). Kirsten reckons she's hand better Peking Duck in London; I meanwhile was stuck with a load of slimy mushrooms.

Wanting to avoid the tourist hoards at the overly reconstructed Badaling section of the Great Wall, we opted for a 10km hike along the Simatai section. Relatively few people do this section, and the crow thins out quickly, leaving you alone on your own bit of the Ming wall. It took us 3 hours to complete the undulating route (why build a wall along a mountain ridge to protect you from nomadic horsemen?), stopping frequently for photo ops from the watch towers. We descended from the wall via a zip wire to the lake below.

Our last day here was spent wandering round hutongs before heading out to the Summer Palace. This can offer great views back over the city from the hill top pagoda, unfortunately it had started to rain quite hard by the time we got their and visibility was down to about 20 yards. Nevertheless it is an impressive place covering 2.9 square kilometres (two thirds of it are lake) dotted with hillside pagodas linked by open passage ways. Twice burnt down by Anglo-French forces in acts of imperial aggression, most of the buildings date from 1902.

We left via Beijing West Station - a behemoth of a building - for the overnight train to Xi'an. At this point it was raining hard, and with the station scanning all baggage, quite a crush had developed outside.

All in all Beijing felt a very safe place (I had no problem wandering down unlit side-streets late at night), and the taxi are cheap (less than 20RMB, £1.60 for most journeys in town) - although no English is spoken, so it's a good idea to have the destination written down in Chinese characters.
Our cheapest (and best) meal cost 140RMB for four with beers (less than three quid each).