Yesterday I walked through the market and the maze of hutongs near my lovely hostel, enjoying more glimpses of everyday life - washing hung out to dry from electricity poles, tricycle carts of recyclables, bubbling vats of broth in which various things were cooked. I love the bustle, the pinging of bicycle bells, voices calling things I cannot hope to understand, the sense of purpose, punctuated by the langour of shop owners dozing outside their tiny hole-in-the-wall shops. Eventually I found myself walking on a pretty little street beside Houhai Lake and the shops and cafes became more touristy. Coming towards
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