Hole In The Ground

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Thursday 25th October 07

Twenty miles of nose to tail, grindingly slow traffic is not what you want when heading to the airport to catch a flight. But this is what the M25 dished up me as I left England. I felt that either this country did not want me to leave or that my last hours here were to be sheer agony. This feeling hadn't been helped by Kevin my son getting a flat tyre before picking me up, so delaying our departure.

As the hours ticked by and light faded, visions of missing the flight loomed larger but as usual I needn't have worried, the extra time I had added for just such eventualities and the additional three hours you are supposed to be there before your flight, meant that I was actually there 90 minutes before takeoff - time for a coffee with Kevin once my suitcase was safely in the hands of airport staff.

Now I could begin to relax, if that were at all possible after the tension that I had accumulated during the previous months of packing, storing and disposing of much of my possessions. Making the decision to move to China was the easy part but from thereon doubts seemed to flood my mind at every turn. I loved the house in which I lived, even though it wasn't mine; I loved the cosy little town of Deal and the sea it nestled beside and what was more I loved my family and didn't want to be leaving them. But the reasons for taking me away seemed stronger still. There was my Chinese girlfriend Crystal, who I hadn't seen for six months - I had tried to find a teaching job for her, teaching Mandarin or even English, in the UK but been unable, and getting her a visa without a job was about impossible. There was also the assurance from Crystal that if we were to start an English language school in her home city of Zunyi, we would have a good living in China. So in that light, the decision was straightforward but in the darkness of the early hours, the decision was flooded with fear and doubt. Nevertheless morning brought more positive thoughts and so I forged ahead; getting rid of things I could live without and packing stuff to send to China, and there was another category of packing things to store - just maybe I would come back at sometime? Maybe sooner than planned - you never know! I I thought I give it two years and if it wasn't working in that time, to cut my loses and return. In any case, I was sure that I wanted to spend most of retirement years at home in the UK, close to my family. It was hard going, packing on my own; it felt as if I was disassembling my life - would I ever put it back together?

Arriving later than planned at the airport had an unexpected bonus - there was virtually no queue at baggage check-in or through security checkpoint. What was more, to my surprise, when I strolled into the departure lounge, it was empty apart from one girl at the desk; everyone was aboard except me. It felt as if I were travelling first-class and to make things even better, I had two seats to myself. Ah, maybe things were turning out right after all?
Seeing Crystal standing in the crowded arrivals hall, put away all my fears and doubt. At last I was here, at last we were together. My new life was beginning right now.

After a good night's sleep, I immerge into this new land - yes I had been there before three times but now I was no longer a tourist, there for two weeks, now I was here to stay?

Crystal and I ventured out in the afternoon to the centre and to People's Square. Cool afternoon sun was striking the bright towers of glass and steel of this futuristic landscape but my mind was still in England, thinking of home. I phoned my son on Crystal's mobile and he was upbeat about my new life, I was uplifted by our conversation and so next I phoned my daughter. I wanted us both to feel happy I had arrived safe and well, confirmation that she too was behind my decision but there was a reluctance in her voice and our conversation does not last long. It is a difficult good bye.

Monday 29th Oct

I had awoken in the night and been unable to return to sleep - thoughts of home, family and friends flooded my mind. Was this really the right decision? Had I been too hasty? My body was tense and stiff, so I got up to do some stretching. The beds in China are always very firm and my body wasn't liking it.

In the morning, after some sleep, I awoke with a pain in my lumbar region, a muscle spasm. This sort of thing I had had before, so I popped an anti-inflammatory tablet and waited for the pain to abate but it didn't and so I took another - on an empty stomach. My stomach objected - greatly and now spasmodic pains griped my guts. I was bent double in pain unable to lie, sit or stand. Crystal said I could not get a doctor, so the hospital was the only option. After some while with the pain inceasing, I relented and after dressing, we went out to get a cab. Monday morning in Shanghai is like any Monday morning anywhere - busy as ****! But eventually one arrived and I crawled in. The journey to the hospital was mercifully quick even though at one point a car and a bus refused to give way to one another and a standoff ensued. After a while, the car being the smaller backed down and we were on our way again.

The hospital could not be called a modern one, of which there are many here, and looked none too good but I was grateful to be anywhere I might get help. Crystal queued at reception while I tried to sit and get as comfortable as I could. Thankfully however, it wasn't too long before we were entering the bare and slightly grubby room of the doctor's examination room. An elderly woman is before me and examined behind an inadequate screen. Eventually it is my turn (Crystal told me that a man had allowed me to go before him, seeing my writhing state on the bench). The doctor thumps my lumbar region eliciting a cry of pain. Words interchange between the doc and Crystal. I have to give a urine sample, so my kidneys can be checked. I am handed a tiny plastic container without a lid and visit the nearby loo. It is a squat down toilet which was not a standard I would have thought from a hospital but I wasn't about to complain. I did a dribble and took it with Crystal to the place it would be tested. I feel the need to be sick and rush back to the toilet, vomiting down the smelly hole.

We sit and wait, or rather Crystal sits and waits, while I role around pulling faces and groaning. I notice a nearby bowl of black water and a mop, they obviously clean the floors! I am sick again.

We see the doc again. Do I have my passport? No, it's back at the hotel. Do I remember the number? I don't. Crystal tells me the doctor can only prescribe me a mild pain killer because I don't have my passport. I am taken to another place where a nurse sticks a needle in my bum. My mouth is dry and I am desperate for a drink. Crystal tells me she will have to go out to buy water - what!

Alone, I wait on the small bench I am supposed to lie on but the pain is intense in my stomach and back, each set of spasmodic muscles fighting against the others. I call to a nurse, my distress is my only communication. Other folk waiting with relatives look on with concern. The nurse goes and comes back with a drip bottle and a feed is placed in the back of my hand. Crystal returns with a bottle water from which I take grateful sips. Crystal asks me again, do I remember my passport number? I had written it out so many times during visa applications and on various documents for our proposed marriage, the numbers had stuck in my mind and I was lucid enough now to recall or at best guess.

Crystal disappears and shortly returns; I am to be given another injection, this time a stronger one; again in my bum.

This done, I am taken off to a trolley bed in a corridor and am able to crawl under the thick duvet for some comfort. At last I can lie still for a moment or two and take in more water. The pain starts to abate and after some indeterminate time, Crystal says we should go back. The drugs have made me woozy and she supports me to the street where a taxi is soon there for us.

Back at the hotel, I climb into the bed, the spasms almost gone - sleep soon comes. I awake and look at my watch it is 3.15, daylight outside and Crystal is asleep beside me. I am confused, my watch must have stopped - it is morning time? I ask her if she is going to work and she groans. I drift back off to sleep again. When I awake again, it is 5 by my watch and still Crystal is beside me in bed. It takes a while for me to figure out that it is not morning after all but evening time. My pain has now gone. It is hard to believe that this entire painful episode has come and gone in one day, I however still very groggy and not able to rise. Crystal tries to get me to eat but I cannot digest the food in my mouth, it is like eating dry sponge - I sleep some more.

When I awake again, it is night and I am feeling so much better and able to eat a little. It has been one hell of a day.

The following morning I check my passport - I had got the number right but even if I hadn't, who would have known? Curiously enough, Crystal told me that the milder medication had cost more that the stronger one which I was supposed to reveal my passport for, costing only pennies. The entire visit to the hospital had cost only

Tuesday 30th Oct

I could never imagine that receiving a haircut could be described as a pleasurable experience but receiving my first haircut in China was. In England I've generally rated getting my haircut with that of visiting the dentist unless I've happened in a mad moment to fork out a small fortune to have the job done, which on most occasions I don't.

At the hairdresser's Crystal had taken me too, first there was the hair wash, done by one of young assistants with strong hands and after washing it once, she washed it again but this time with a firm head massage thrown in. Now was time to have my hair cut and a young male stylist took over. His careful and diligent care of my hair had a soporific affect on me and still feeling tired after yesterdays events, I nodded off. That was a first; normally I'm sat staring at the lines on my face and grey hair and wondering - how much older can I look? Also wondering, am I going to regret this visit?

I obviously have not been asleep long because the young lad is still cutting my hair when I awake. When finished cutting, my hair is washed once again, then blow-dried by the stylist. Crystal pays the ten yuan (75p) and we leave. However, it is not until I go to flick back my hair from my forehead, do I discover he has put my parting on the other side and I hadn't even noticed when looking at myself in the mirror - I blame it on the jet lag!

I recommend to anyone who comes to China; after you've seen the Great Wall, the Forbidden City and Summer Palace - get your hair cut! You certainly won't feel out of pocket by the experience.

Food
Another thing anyone must come to China for is the food. Forget your English Golden Lotus or Jade Garden, food in China is nothing like your local take-away/restaurant. In fact I can't understand how Chinese food came to be so different in the UK? I mean, where did sweet & sour pork balls come from? There is nothing as tediously bad as this in China, well not what you eat for a main course. And I also wonder how nearly all Chinese menus in the UK became the same? In China, it seems that restaurants go out of their way to be different from the next with a bewildering array of dishes available. Okay, if you go into a small dumpling shop, don't expect much else except dumplings but these small places can't be called restaurants. The restaurants I like the best are where you cook the meal yourself at the table; generally these are either barbecue or hotpot. It's great when they bring red hot coals to the table for you to cook over. They don't give a fig about health and safety but then, they are very careful. With the hotpot, there is generally a fixed gas ring at the centre of the table and a huge wok shaped stainless steel bowl, divided into two sections is brought to the table. In the bowl will be two different types of spicy stock, with masses of chillie peppers, garlic cloves and other whole spices. The pot is brought to the boil on the ring and while this is going on, a great variety of green vegetables/salad, thinly sliced meat and tofu is brought to the table, and so wonderfully fresh. Now comes the best bit, dunking your chosen meat or green veg into either of the boiling stocks - generally one will be spicier than the other. It takes a very short while for the thin slivers of meat to cook and then with chopsticks, stick it in your mouth. It is such a slow unhurried way of eating and requires a good deal of beer to cool the spices within.

Of course they could never do this in an English restaurant because big signs would be everywhere warning of the pot being dangerously hot and heat proof mittens would have to be provided for all guests. Not only that, the restaurant would never get insurance to have a restaurant full of burning gas rings and diners untrained in the art of chopsticks and bubbling cauldrons!

So if you want to eat well and experience food at its literal freshest, you have to come to China. Having your food fresh is considered the most important thing here and the freshest you can get is when you select it from the menu while it is still living! Most restaurants have fish tanks containing not only fish but crabs and I have seen toads, tortoise and even live duck waiting to become dinner for someone. It is however, not for people who consider that the food they eat has never drawn breath and only ever existed in polythene wrapped containers!

Wednesday 31st Oct

Today was a big adventure for me. It was Crystal's last day at work and so I decided I would go for a walk. First however, I stayed in bed and watched Tottenham vs Blackburn (Chinese commentary) on one of the sixty or so channels available; only one of which is English language. Now going for a walk is not what I would normally consider an adventure but seeing as I had not a map and Shanghai is about the size of Wales, there was a good chance I could get lost, seeing that our hotel was way out of the central touristy part which I was quite familiar with. So armed with only a little money in my pocket and the hotel's business card, I set off carefully noting everything I could see. There is another aspect of walking around in cities in China that makes walking for a foreigner exciting - cities are not meant for pedestrians. Road crossings exist only as convenient points to cross in numbers, creating a human barrier against the unforgiving traffic which never gives way to people except en masse, and scooters/mopeds often use the pavement and have the audacity to blow their horn should a pedestrian have the cheek to get in their way. The thing about pedestrian crossings at junctions, they have a red and green man system - red man means if you walk across you're fair game and the green man means if you walk across, you're fair game! This is because traffic from around the corner is allowed to proceed even though the green man shines. Crystal told me that drivers should give way to pedestrians when crossing at the green man but no one ever told the drivers that! Having said all this, once you get used to the way of things, it's not too bad.

So on I went, carefully noting distinct high rise buildings. The thing is that here, all the buildings are high rise, only some are higher than others. The most distinctive one however, close to our hotel was in fact an unfinished one, very high and covered with that green netting that gardener's like to grow sweet peas up, except thicker. This is put around the building of course for the safety of the workers; to keep them from falling twenty floors or so to an uncomfortable landing. And it is needed; considering I've seen the workers toiling away in the darkness! Now the bazaar thing about this unfinished luxury apartment block (in fact it was three blocks) was that it was actually open below for prospective tenants to view, although I suspect one could only view a scale model and an artist's impression because massive blocks of grey concrete don't really set the imagination alight. Anyway, the entrance was well and truly open, and the like of which I had never seen before, except as an entrance to a 5 star hotel. The great reception area was lavishly adorned with rich wall coverings, lit with huge chandeliers and propped up with marble pillars - staff stood waiting expectantly to grovel at every level and smartly attired security men waited to turn away the idle curious like me. Outside the entrance and above it, a large bamboo and netting canopy had been erected to stop any careless workman falling onto valuable clients. Large hoardings along the wooden perimeter proudly told that the apartments were to be called Grand Jewell Apartments and judging by the reception area, they were not overstating it.

Having negotiated several roads and still being alive, my confidence grew and my pace quickened; I was going to go further than just around the block, maybe a couple of blocks. There wasn't much else to see during my wander, except for a Skoda garage and a vast and high office building of great importance, which looked more like a building straight out of Gotham City. Strangely there were no security men at the barrier entrance to the imposing grounds, so I can only assume that if you entered without permission, you'd probably set off alarms and have men with dogs running in all directions!

So I made it back safely to the comfort of our hotel room but not before doing something else daring - going into a small supermarket to purchase a bottle of beer, a bottle of wine and a rather small sausage (which looked like something unmentionable) to eat with the beer. As I handed over a note at the till, I wonder if the girl will give a flicker of acknowledgement of my existence seeing I was a weird looking foreigner - no, I was a ghost handing her money and waiting for change. Such is the way in China, unless I expect you are buying a Ferrari - possible or something obscenely expensive, that you will get any response to your purchase by the staff. If the Yanks overdo it with "have a nice day, have a nice life" then the Chinese distinctly underplay the relationship between shop staff and purchaser. Even in our hotel, the reception staff don't give the faintest muscle movement of a smile - it is not the Chinese way Crystal tells me - "It's good service is all you need, not a smile." Maybe she has a point.

Noise
I hadn't been sleeping well since my arrival in China. I was not on holiday now, I was living here and the prospect haunted me in the early hours. So I was not best pleased when awoken in the night by the sound of a woman's loud voice from out in the corridor and later by the drone of a man's voice in an adjacent room, who seemed to arguing with his wife, although she didn't appear to respond much. He went on and on, probably covering the same topic over and over as some people do. Whatever he was gripping about, he kept me awake even longer. Now my problem is, I'm allergic to noise and even the faintest of fly farts can wake me and once I'm awake, I hear everything - central heating pipes, people moving around in other rooms, traffic outside; meanwhile Crystal slumbers on in blissful sleep. The troubling thing is, that if I am to settle into living here, I'm going to have to get used to noise because I think most Chinese people are deaf; they speak loudly, even at three in the morning, move around noisily and they use car horns just because they don't like for it to be too quiet. Now, I come from Deal, where nothing moves much after eleven thirty, so I am used to peace and quiet - I asked Crystal if she could buy me some earplugs but she didn't know what they were.

The night before last I was awoken by noisy guest slamming doors around midnight and then at one was awoken by the strangest of noise and it took some time to work out what it might be. Then it dawned on, it was Viking re-enactors practicing blowing their ox horns in unison, except it wasn't Vikings but real life monks blowing their horns of whatever material in unison. In the middle of the bloody night, the monks were having a rave and blowing their horns, it was bazaar. Crystal and I had visited the nearby temple on my last visit and so knew of their locality. Now monks in China are a strange phenomena to my unknowing eye. They sit in their lavish temples, chanting and blowing horns, which sound great in the day time, then they walk around the street selling some gold coloured tokens and according to Crystal tell fortunes, and some of them are damned persistent in their sales patter. Aren't they supposed to do good and help the poor I ask myself?

Friday 1st November

Today is another exciting day for me; we are going to have me measured and a suit. Crystal says the tailors in Shanghai are very good and handmade suits very cheap. This will be a first, I've never had a suit made for me.

The place we are to go to is two long bus journeys away and is in fact a cloth and clothes market. In this three storey building are based many tailors and sellers of cloth and clothing. It is the place to go to have a suit made and there are a good many westerners that seem to know this also. Crystal selects one tailor's shop and a young Chinese man with a slight stammer serves us.

He produces several magazines to choose a style from - this is not going to be an easy task. My initial thoughts are something very light in colour, a light cream - perhaps my desire to stand out from the crowd to be noticed. Although that would hardly be a problem where I was headed. I detest dark suits, all those shades of colourless grey. Eventually however, I see a picture of a young guy wearing a blue pin stripe suit; he looks cool, smart and elegant - just how I'd like to see myself - well we can all dream! Now to choose the material, so much to choose from but nothing that matched my original thoughts and I end up choosing a cloth just like the one in the magazine even though it is dark. Crystal suggests I can have another suit, after all it will only cost around forty pounds for one and I can wear the dark one in winter - clever girl. It's a good idea and we start the process again, a different style and this time a lighter colour cloth. How difficult it is to see yourself in something that is not already made up and put-onable. In England, I only had one suit, a dark one I had bought from a charity shop. It was a very good suit and fitted me well but I never wore it, not even to a funeral. Eventually I choose a cloth which Crystal also liked - a good idea if you don't want comments in the future like "You're not wearing that one are you?" Okay that's that done and I'm happy and so is Crystal, then she says, "What about a coat? You can have one made too?" I'm really into this now and as it might be sometime before we can come back to Shanghai and to this market and also it might well be very cold in Zunyi in the winter - let's go for it. Choosing a cloth and a style is quite easy, and soon I am measured up for that too. Total cost - 1900 yuan, one hundred and thirty pounds. What could I get in the UK for that? I'm a happy bunny, what is more, we can pick the clothes up on Sunday - now that's service.

We were in spending mode today and so after the cloth market, we head to another part of the city, to the electronics market. It is in the basement of a great big electrical shopping emporium; airless, hot and cramped. We are going to buy a digital camera, to replace my broken one. I'm content to let Crystal choose and negotiate as usual. In time we settle for a pretty red Samsung, 7.2 megapixels costing a hundred. How things have moved on, my last one a few years back was 4 megapixels and that was good at the time, and cost twice that (in England!). I'm glad when we immerge into the cool night air; how do people work in places like that all day long?

Prices
Yes, things are much cheaper in China - great for the tourist but of course price related to wages here. Some things seem ridiculously cheap, we paid 1.5 yuan for half a kilo of bananas (15 yuan to the pound) but Crystal said she had seen them at 1 yuan; other fruit is similarly cheap. Bus fares throughout city are either 1 or 2 yuan depending on which bus company you use and for unlimited distance - more about bus travel later. You could travel for hours for a few pence and with the density of the traffic that is easily possible. Our hotel is what you could describe as middle quality and costs us ten pounds a night. Although the room is not big, it is modern, comfortable and has a great shower; the room is cleaned, bed made and shampoos etc changed daily. For what you would pay for a standard B & B in the UK, you could have top quality here.

Crystal has told me that her sister has found an apartment for us in Zunyi; it is has three bedrooms and will cost us 550 yuan. "A week?" I ask. "A month," she replies. That's about forty pounds a month I calculate and wonder what we can expect for that. I ask her if we should look at it first but she tells me that good apartments are hard to come by and this one is in very near the centre. Oh well, I cannot argue, let's hope her sister has made a good choice.

There are many bargains to be obtained here in China, especially CDs, DVDs and computer software, which are sold by many street vendors. We had stopped to browse at one such stall and Crystal was keen to buy some films and computer software. "They are very cheap," she said and they were but they were also not genuine official copies. They are not sold in plastic folding containers but in polythene sleeves and you don't just buy one film but probably a dozen films all by the same actor or director on a couple of discs. Crystal shows me one such set of films by the actor Pierce Brenan! Pierce Brenan, I've never heard of him. I take a closer look at the sleeve, yes it is the James Bond actor - Die Another Day but I have to search my mind for his name - "Pierce Brosnan!" I exclaim. "They've got the name wrong." We laugh together. I start to search for myself and come across the much loved Mr Beam!! Crystal buys Windows Vista, some other software and half a dozen film collections for which she pays about a fiver. She is happy, she has about sixty films to watch. I warn her that she might be able to load Windows Vista because it will have to be registered with Microsoft and they will know it is a copy. She replies that the Chinese are clever and know how to get round this. "Not clever enough to call Pierce Brosnan and Mr Bean by their proper names!" I reply.

Fri 2nd Nov

One of the great things about being abroad and being away from the norm, is coming across something that are not normal, unusual to the eye. We are walking away from our hotel when I hear the sound of voices shouting in unison. I look across the road to see a small parade of young people. They are jogging slowly together in time, in a column of threes; they are all smartly dressed, identically attired - the boys in dark trousers and lilac shirts and the girls in mid lilac skirt and jackets. At each corner of the group, a flag is held aloft with Chinese writing on it. The faces are smiling and happy. Is this some political parade or young communist league I enquire of Crystal? "They are hairdressers," she replies, apparently out for a moral boosting jog and a spot of advertising I guess.

Our destination is Carrefour supermarket. Inside is a vast multi-storey shopping complex, which seems to sell just about everything, including electric motorcycles, the cheapest being an electric cycle at 1499 yuan, a hundred quid - seven hundred in the UK. This Carrefour makes the supermarkets I am used to visiting, look like small corner shops. You can buy fresh fish and crabs, so fresh they are still swimming and I love the way rice is sold here; from the biggest earthen wear jug you've ever seen, you help yourself and then have it weighed. It's great how the vast modern supermarket has planted itself here and yet has absorbed many of the traditional ways of buying food.

After Carrefour we visit Crystal's uncle where she has stored a lot of her clothes and boy does she have a lot of clothes. I sit and wait while she stuffs things in big bags and cases and then both of us carry them down the six flights of stairs; it's hard going. Then we have to wait for a van which Crystal has ordered. As we stand waiting, I reflect on what sort of apartment we might end up with in Zunyi, I hope it's not like this. The area is dirty and smelly. Crystal's uncle's flat is very compact - you enter via an iron cage door for security and a secondary door into the kitchen which is little more than a small corridor, you then pass into the dining area which has just room for a very small table and then you pass through the one bedroom to get to the main living room which is not very big at all. What surprised me the first time I came, was that another door leading from the tiny kitchen goes into another room which is rented by someone else and the only window is a high one into the kitchen; the room measures about eight foot square and someone lives there. Crystal has assured me that apartment in Zunyi will be bigger and we should have three times more space than her uncle; I certainly hope so.

Eventually the small van arrives and although it has three seats in the front, only two are allowed in the cab and so one of us has to go in the back and guess who that one is? Fortunately half of the roof is open and so I can see the sky and high buildings as we pass. At the depot, the bags and cases are taken to be weighed and put into other stronger bags. From there they will be transported to Zunyi, as will mine when they arrive. My boxes were scheduled for yesterday but no news yet.

It has been a tiring day and in the evening we go in search of a place to eat. We seem to be walking around for ages finding the right place and both of us are tired. We end up at a Korean restaurant and our meal is cooked at the table over hot coals by a member of staff. It is good but not as good as the last Korean restaurant we visited in Beijing.

Today is my son's birthday, I phone to wish him a happy one but all I get is a damned answerphone.

Sunday 4th November.

Crystal has bought a dress for our wedding. It's not really a wedding dress just a very smart going out dress; it's red - traditional colour for Chinese weddings, although most are white now. The dress has small kitted shawl which she has discovered has a small fault in it, and she wants it repaired, so now she is on a mission to find someone who can repair it. We take the bus, which as usual is crowded and we are standing. We have gone some distance when I look round to see she has gone. I look to the street to see she is there, looking back at me with consternation on her face There is nothing for it but to go on to the next stop; it can't be that far. We meet up and then we go in search of the seamstress. Eventually Crystal find's her target sat on a small stool outside a bank, with a basket of her work at her side. Like so many workers here, they don't have premises and work in the street. I am offered a very small stool and am invited by Crystal to sit, this might take some time.

I sit and watch the world go by. The street is the usual hustle and bustle like all streets, car and bus horns blaring. Nearby some motorcyclists sit idly on their bikes, wearing their typical helmet which looks more like something from a building site than a motorcycle shop; these guys are an alternative form of transport to the taxi and bus. I watch as a smartly dressed girl in tight jeans and jacket, face glued to her mobile screen walks up, hops on sidesaddle; the bike roars off.

Now that Crystal has her top mended, we can go and collect my suits. The cloth market if very close to the remarkable Nanpu suspension bridge, which at one end the road circles twice on ever higher towers before reaching the height of the bridge itself. I am delighted to find my suits and coat fit me perfectly. Now I have to have something smart to wear for our wedding day. My conscience however is grabbed as we walk into the street and are approached by a severely disabled man, his badly mangled arm exposed for maximum effect. He gives me his best sorrowful look but I have no change and we walk on by.

Tuesday 6th November

Crystal says she needs to buy some contact lenses for her sister and would I like to buy some too. I agree and so in the morning off we go on the bus again. We arrive by the large concourse at the front of railway station. I follow her around the side of the huge railway building to an area devoid of much at all. We then enter a doorway and go down some plain stone steps; the place looks very uninviting and I wonder where she is taking me. At the bottom of the steps, I am to find out - this is Spectacle World, or it could be if they wanted to give a name to it as they would in the UK. In this underground world, there are dozens, maybe fifty small retail/wholesale units, all selling glasses and contact lenses. Each stall has no front, just a large glass cabinet containing countless spectacle frames. The choice is mindboggling. After wandering round for some while, Crystal finds the place she has been too before. She purchases the lenses she requires for her sister but is unable to get any for me because I required long-sighted ones and apparently most Chinese are near-sighted - strange! Anyway, Crystal asks if I would like to buy some glasses while we are here. Yes, why not. She knows the horrible ones I have been wearing. Off we go again walking round until we finally choose a stall out of the many. I pick a frame (which would be called 'designer' at home) and Crystal negotiates a price, 150 yuan = ten pounds and that includes having my eyes tested. This cannot be passed up. As the optician checks my vision with all his paraphernalia, I make various grunting noises and nodding movements to indicate what I can and cannot see. We manage without words. My glasses are then made while we wait. As we wait, Crystal suggests I could also have a pair for reading made. I am terrible at losing glasses and the prescription ones I had have long since been gone. Now I'm wearing off-the-peg glasses from a chemist. I agree with her and again choose another frame, again having my eyes checked, this time for reading. We sit and wait some more for the second pair to be made. At last I have some decent glasses and at last I can see clearly!

Wednesday 7th Nov

Today was another warm sunny day and so we took the metro to Century Park. This is a very large spacious park with a small lake with boats, amusement park for kids, wonderful giant sculptures made from shrubs - a modernistic topiary and cycle hire. I see that tandems can be hired and as Crystal hasn't learnt to ride a cycle yet (I thought all Chinese did!), we hire one. It's wonderful to cycle around this way and I can't resist singing "Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do, I'm half crazy all for the love of you..." For those of you who are too young to know, the song is about a bicycle made for two. I'm sure at the back Crystal isn't peddling! As we are nearing the end of our ride, Crystal gets a call - my boxes have arrived. Hurray, at long last. It is getting late in the afternoon and will be closed by the time we get there but Crystal decides she wants to go and find the offices where I have to sign for my boxes, even though it won't be open. As with every journey in this huge city of around twenty-four million souls is a long one. We take the metro again and walk alongside the river in the area called The Bund. We walk past all the old European looking financial institutions that inhabit this side of the river but then move away from the river to another less salubrious area and it is under a low road bridge we find another side of the city. Lined along the pavement are makeshift beds made out of old mattresses and blankets. There is no one around but probably here the new arrivals to the city have to spend their nights, whilst during the day they scratch out a living or search for work in this unforgiving city.

The office block Crystal wishes to find is tucked away down some side street but just before we come to it, we see a curious queue, which stretches for probably fifty metres or more. It's not a queue to a government building or to purchase some must have item but to the stall of a humble chestnut seller. There are many chestnut sellers all around the city but none have queues such as this - this guy must have pretty special nuts!

By now I'm pretty knackered, so when we get to the closed office and turn round again, I'm not best pleased. We walked a long long way just to satisfy Crystal's curiosity as to the location of the building and will come back tomorrow. Fortunately for my old tired legs, there is a bus stop close by and at last I can sit down. One thing I learnt very early on when I met Crystal, she can walk all day and not only that, she can walk up mountains like they weren't there. Like so many Chinese, she's very tough. I am to come to realise how much of a softy westerner I am.

We have a found a dumpling shop/restaurant near the hotel and so we go in for a meal before retiring to our hotel room. Dumplings are very popular here but they are nothing like the dumplings we put in stew at home. These are more like miniature Cornish pasties which are either steamed or fried and you can have meat of vegetable in them. They are not eaten on their own but are dunked into a chillie sauce with vinegar - very tasty. This particular restaurant is brightly decorated and its seats are made out of polished tree trunks and the tables made of a similar heavy wood. What is also special about the place is that you can see the dumplings being made - if you are concerned about such things. At the far end of the restaurant behind a large glass screen are three people dressed in white gown, chef's hat and face mask - making dumplings all day. Well at least they are in the warm and dry!

We eat our fill of dumplings and have a very small bottle of rice wine; not really wine at all but rocket fuel, which we only consume half of and take the rest back to the hotel, and the bill comes to 32 yuan, just over two quid.

Legs recovered and stomachs full, we decide to go for a walk around the block; it is a nice evening. Crystal also wants to find a bank which will dispense 3000 yuan and not 2000, which most of them will do. It turns out that the bank is further away than expected and anyway is in the process of reconstruction - I grumble about my legs and she promises me a leg massage. On the subject of massage, if Crystal reneges on giving me a massage, there are plenty of places I can get one, and more besides! There are many places for massage in Shanghai, some are quite respectable in hairdressing salons but many more are in grubby looking rooms facing out onto the street. On our walk from the restaurant, we have passed at least half a dozen glass fronted established, with young ladies wearing short skirts and lots of makeup waiting inside.

Thursday 8th July - Customs

We set off early to the ECU line shipping company. Just around the corner, a small crowd has gathered in the centre of a road junction. A woman sits in the road, at the centre of the onlookers, a troubled look on her face; a man is marking in chalk the location of a stationary car at her side. We pass on.

We take the bus and have to change buses, which bus stops are some distance apart. As we approach the second stop there is a curious ritual taking place on the wide pavement - grown adults taking part in a skipping game. They are office workers from the nearby bank apparently and this must be their morning workout. They don't seem bothered by puzzled onlookers and try to get as many people skipping the same long rope. Can't imagine this team building exercise catching on in the UK somehow.

Our next bus journey is the usual daily bus grand prix. It seems that for each bus driver the objective is to get to the end of the route as quickly a time as possible. This entails intimidating every other motorist and pedestrian by blaring their horn at all and sundry. Sometimes the horn is sounded as a friendly warning -"I'm coming through" or more often, intimidatory "Get out of my way!" It's really quite exciting, if you like getting your thrills this way. However, this bus driver has another agenda and apparently starts shouting at another bus driver he seems to be racing. He then stops the bus and we are all ordered off and onto some other bus. We don't know why. Maybe he's had enough for one day?

At the offices of the shipping agency, Crystal as usual takes over and I just sit and wait. She then tells me I have to pay 650 yuan in order to get my boxes. I'm not best pleased, not being told about this when I arranged the shipment. My ten boxes had already cost me two hundred and fifty four pounds plus one hundred and twenty insurance. I pay up grudgingly. There's also another problem about destination address which is too tedious to mention. It was at this point that I adopted the name Mr Grumpy from Crystal. In fact when she looked up the word in her electronic dictionary, she came up with grumpish, so I also became "grumpish British!"

If she thought I was grumpy then, neither of us knew how much more grumpy, this grumpish British was going to get before long.

We now must go to the customs house, which is a long way off. Amidst heavy congestion, we have to find a taxi and make our way to there. The thing is, when you get into a taxi, you can't just sit back and relax unless you are Chinese of course and are used to taxi dodgems!

The customs house is a calm cool open environment with highly polished floors. We go to the high counter and Crystal again takes over dealing with the clerk. We produce the insurance form I had filled in detailing the contents of the boxes and the girl studies it. "How many CDs do I have?" asks the girl in English. "Two hundred" I reply, it is a rough guess. Discussion in Chinese follows between her and Crystal. Crystal then tells me that I am only allowed to bring in one hundred, I will have to pay tax on the rest, maybe around 600 yuan. Also I will have to pay tax on some electrical items, probably my stereo system. I'm in dismay, I had no idea about this. Crystal has to attend to some more paperwork before we can finally leave. We must come back at 1 p.m. tomorrow and go with the customs person to look at my boxes. Crystal suggests we go to a park and I agree.

We take the light railway to near the park but it is already too far, all I really want to do is go back and sleep but we're here now. I'm stressed out and weary. My spirits however are lifted as we enter the park. Here there is a whole different world to the hectic passage of life outside. This is where people young and old come to relax and have fun. On a small green near the entrance a large group of teenagers, probably from the same school are sat in a circle playing some sort of word game. There is much laughter. They also take part in a sort of three legged race but in this there are four together, each one standing on one leg, the other leg linked to the others and trying to race other groups of four - much hilarity and fun. It is so refreshing to my eyes to see young people having so much innocent fun together. What with the jogging hairdressers and the skipping bank workers, it seems the Chinese are not afraid to be seen having fun, no matter their age.

We go for a walk around the lake, the descending sun spreading a red glow over the delightful park. You never know what you will find in these parks, after the giant topiary jazz players in Century Park, we come across an aquarium and outside to advertise it is a small people carrier, filled to the roof with water and fish. It is novel and it is fun. Although the Chinese may not smile at work, they do have a humorous side.

I am in need of going to the toilet and I know this doesn't sound like much to write about - am I running short of interesting material? But I had earlier had a pee and gone into the wrong section, no not the ladies but the sit down part, or should I say the squat down part. I was somewhat surprised to find myself in a cubicle without a door, in fact none of them had doors and there was a young lad squatting over what was no more than a tiled channel, having a dunk. Surprised to see his arse, I got out of there quickly. Trouble was that now I myself wanted a dunk and it was not going to wait until we got back to the hotel. I knew at some time or other I would have face the challenge of squatting to shit and had been bracing myself for such an event. It looked like the time would be now, door or no door. Crystal gave me some tissues, for there are never any in public toilets - travelers be warned! And off I went.

Fortunately the toilet block I choose did have doors on the cubicles and I could squat alone! One thing I did learn on that visit to the ceramic hole-in-the-ground, is that it is advisable for the man to pee first and then squat afterwards. If you don't you are liable to pee in your pants - I don't think the wet patch showed however!

Later, during a discussion about squatting toilets, Crystal told me that when she was young, she went on a visit to the country. Apparently she needed to do the necessary but the toilet at the house she was staying at, was little more than a hole above a pig pen. She said she was too scared to do anything. Who can blame her and she was unable to tell me if the pigs liked it either. No wonder she thinks country people are not clean.

Friday 9th Nov

The day began well enough, warm sunny and we arrived in enough time to have something to eat at a Chinese version of MacDonalds but a little more traditional.

We get to customs spot on one. Crystal bids me to wait and so I sit by a large window and wait for her to report back what is to be done. She is gone a long time and in the warmth of the sun filtering through the window I nod off. When my eyelids open, she is still not back. She has been gone a long while. When she does appear, she tells me that my boxes are here at the customs house and the customs people have them open. I have to go with her. She confirms to me I have too many CDs and will have to pay tax on them and my electrical things.

I am reunited with my boxes but not in the manner I expect. In a large almost bare room, my boxes sit opened in the middle. On long tables my CDs are being examined by custom staff in green coats, also my small record collection and VHS cassettes. A smartly dressed uniformed officer stands doing apparently nothing. I am alarmed and immediately drawn into an angry state. I seem to have got the impression from Crystal that they may be inspecting for counterfeit CDs, which strikes me as strange considering most music and DVDs on sale here are unofficial counterfeit copies - Mr Beam, Pierce Brenan! I demonstrate my anger, feeling as if I am some sort of criminal. What a welcome to China this is. "Why?" I ask in a loud voice. To my surprise the uniformed man in his fifties, speaks in English. "You cannot bring in so CDs into the country." "But this is my private collection." I offer in reply. He says something about the law of the land and I grumble something in reply. It seems he is a friendly man and says I should not upset myself. I tell him I am upset, unable to express to him how taxing his country has been on my nerves.

Feeling able to talk with this man, I tell him my son is a customs officer, to which he replies that my son will understand these regulations. I tell him my son is more concerned with illegal immigrants, drugs and alcohol smuggling but it cuts no ice with the officer. "How old is your son?" asks the man. "Thirty-one" I reply. The man looks at Crystal who is standing nearby and asks of my relationship to her. I tell him we plan to get married. "You will marry someone younger than your son?" he asks - I guess it is his job to be nosy. I laugh in reply and tell him no. He makes some smiling comment about me and suggests that I must have something special. I reply that I am lucky man and smile. Although his questions are somewhat personal, I'm glad of the light hearted exchange while my beloved music and film collection is examined and counted.

I am then told that they will have to keep a lot of my collection and will notify me when they know how much tax I am to pay. This is all too much for me, how will I get them back? I ask Crystal. We cannot stay any longer in Shanghai, we've already stayed much longer than expected. It is a difficult question to answer and I fear I will never see all they have selected again. I am asked to count what they have taken but do it half-heartedly. I have to give up 129 cds, 27 records and 55 vhs cassettes. I then have to sign for them and we have to go back into the office where my next shock is in store. There is tax due on my electrical equipment, including hi-fi and DVD player and also for my camera equipment. I will have to pay 2100 yuan. I am now furious. Crystal takes up my cause and starts arguing with the female uniformed officer who does not have the smiling demeanor of the man - good cop, bad cop! Crystal’s arguing manages to reduce the fee to 1750 yuan but that’s still over a hundred quid. I’m now feeling completely resigned to the situation, there is nothing more that can be done, if I don’t pay, I don’t get my boxes. I don’t have enough cash on me, so will they accept Visa? Crystal tells me yes and we go to see the payments clerk but strangely she just doesn’t take my card but instead leads us out of the building, down the road, across an extremely busy road and to a bank. Inside, she points to the cash machine! We follow her back to the offices and I give her cash - Chinese way of paying by Visa!

“Is that it now?” I ask Crystal in a hopeful voice. “No, we have to go here.” She indicates to another office and she is eventually served by a disinterested clerk who looks at the papers she gives him and some discussion takes place. “You have to pay another 855 yuan,” she tells me. What!! “It is administration charge and for one night’s storage of my boxes” - now I am being robbed. Life is draining out of me, and my limited resources. Crystal takes the brunt of my protest but there is nothing she can do. I can do nothing but throw my money on the counter. Oh I want to go home, I can’t cope with this. Why did I ever come? I’ve parted with nearly 200 quid today and I’ve still to pay for my music collection if indeed I ever get it back. And it is not just music they have taken, they've taken videos of family Christmas's and happy times.

We immerge into the fading sunlight and I squat down in despair but I am dragged on by Crystal, telling me she has organized the van and it is waiting for us. She is very efficient and there is the little white van, the driver smoking at its side. He backs his van into the store room where my boxes have been roughly repacked and sealed with yellow tape. I help him load the van and again I am to climb into the back, this time to sit on my own boxes. The van trundles off and I am left to ponder my situation. The past months flash through my mind; why I made the decision, my family and friends, Viking re-enactments, getting rid of most of my stuff - hateful car boot sale and charity shops, leaving my home etc.. It was all too much for me.

Eventually the van stopped its bumping around and came to halt in a compound and I am let out, my grief having evaporated out of the open roof. My boxes are then measured for size and a price calculated for the next stage of their journey. Crystal tells me 400 yuan; oh well it could have been worse. While I have been waiting for all this, I watch three men loading a long open back lorry with small boxes; the driver stacks the boxes on the fully laden deck of boxes of all shapes and sizes. As we leave the yard I see my boxes being loaded onto the same truck! I daren’t linger or contemplate their next three thousand kilometres.

Crystal does her best to lighten the situation “Your are grumpish British,” she tells me with a smile. Yes I guess I am but don’t I have a right to be?

I tell Crystal about the remark of the Custom's man and she laughs, happy to think she is considered younger than 31.

Saturday 10th Nov

It is another fine warm day. Crystal has booked our flight to Guiyang for Monday, where we are to be married (we can’t get married in Zunyi because I am a foreigner) and then travel on from there to Zunyi, so we have to weekend to kill. We decide to visit the Pu Dong district which is the ultra modern area of Shanghai. We travel on the state-of-the-art metro, where flat screen monitors tell of the arrival time of the next train to the second and they are spot on. Smartly dressed businessmen and ladies in stylish clothes fill the bright spacious compartments and more flat screen monitors give a constant stream of silent advertisements. All is comfortable and all is well and then a little old man in tattered clothes shuffles through slowly, bent walking stick in hand and begging bowl in the other. He pauses by me, a westerner, and Crystal gives him one yuan and he is gone. No sooner does he depart the scene, than a dark skinned woman appears clasping a sleeping child; by her dress and the colour of her skin she is clearly a country woman. She squats at my feet and gives me a soulful look; then as if that isn’t enough, she lifts her multi-coloured sweater to reveal her sagging breast and shoves it to the child’s face, who being asleep is clearly not interested. I guess it is all part of the routine. Suddenly however, she is alerted by her other child, a little girl, as to a potential donation and she is gone. I just recover from this encounter when a man slides through on his backside, holding a bare stump of a leg into the air and pushing along a collecting tin with his other hand. It’s funny, you don’t see a beggar for ages, then three come along at once! I am however to encounter more beggars later with more dramatic consequences.

We emerge into the spacious concourse around the metro entrance. Here is another world compared to the claustrophobic Shanghai we have spent the past ten days trekking around. In every direction are wonderful modern examples of architecture set among wide avenues and great plazas, none of which would have been here 10 - 15 years ago. Crystal is unmoved by all that is around but is patient as I stop to take numerous photos. I am always curious to investigate and am drawn to one of the modern structures which its central feature is a huge glass sphere made up triangular glass sections, extending above the sweeping curving roof line. Housed within is a hi-tech sound and light show which is free to enter. I cannot resist going in and Crystal ambivalently follows. It is all very clever stuff and at least I am impressed. I wander round like a child wanting to see everything and Crystal follows somewhere behind.

We lunch and decide what to do next. Crystal has an appointment to see a friend at four, nearly three hours away and so I suggest we go to the Imax cinema in the complex. My suggestion is met with a short rebuff, which makes me tetchy - grumpy! I make a sharp remark to her and she replies in equal tone. It is the start our first major disagreement whereby I ask her to write down the name of our hotel and tell her I will meet her there. We go off in opposite directions, with me wondering how I can get to the airport and home to England. Yes I know, I give up easily.

I walk a little distance before taking a seat under a line of small trees to consider my situation. How can this be? It is a beautiful day, this is an amazing place, I’ve come all this way, had a terrible time with customs, had an argument with Crystal who keeps saying I’m grumpy and now I’m thinking of going home. Am I really that grumpy? My thoughts however are distracted by a shortish stout man who comes to stand by me. He is wearing an old but clean suit, no tie and clean shoes. He speaks to me in a soft voice and broken English, and it is soon clear he wants - money. Standing nearby is his wife and who is holding a small child. I reach into my pocket but all I have is two worthless coins and I’m the sort of person that would rather give nothing than offer a person a couple of pennies. After a moment’s hesitation, I reach into my pocket for my wallet - I haven’t got Crystal to bullock me for giving to beggars. But as I do, Crystal appears from behind me and lays into the man verbally. The man responds with the same soft voice but now in Chinese and I don’t know where to look. At that his wife approaches and joins in with a much louder voice. The child in her arms looks on silently. Crystal is now giving them both a good tongue lashing and after a while the couple and their child move off. Now it is my turn for the bollocking I thought I might get away with. Don’t I realize the danger I could put myself in? These people are dangerous; it would be so easy for them to rob me. I personally don’t think so but I am not about to continue any slanging match. She says he is a fit healthy man he should be working and she told him so. It is a terrible thing to beg in front of your child. This is what she told him. After a bit Crystal calms down and we make up. As we walk away from the bench, Crystal laughs and says indignantly, “The man thought I was a prostitute and had no right talking to him in that way!” We laugh and I say something which warrants me getting a thump. We stroll a mile or so down the broad avenues between the glistening high rise towers bathed in golden afternoon light before taking the metro again. Before we go down however, I spot the Goodyear airship flying just above the towers. I had seen it on my last visit, only that time it had me in awe by flying a hundred foot or so above the river below the tops of the high towers. There was also another flying object which also caught my eye - a kite but flying so high I think the blimp might actually fly into it. I’ve seen these high flying kites before but this must be the highest so far. It all seems a little pointless to me however, unless you want to try and capture an airship!

We are to meet Zhang Lu - Jenny, at Starbucks but it is too crowded, so we opt for the Japanese restaurant next door. Jenny also originates from Zunyi but is now doing very nicely thank you in Shanghai. According to Crystal, Jenny doesn’t have time for relationships; she’s too busy making money! They chat away merrily as I amuse myself watching the throng of diners and the absence of waiters. The subject then crops up about why we are going to Zunyi and I am brought into the conversation, Jenny being able to speak a little English. However, what she says about her home city, I don’t want to hear - it is dirty, there is a lot of crime and there is never any sun during the winter - thank you Jenny, go off and make some more money!

Sunday 11th Nov

We visit another nice park today and for once, it is an uneventful day. I make some phone calls home and am pleased to hear the cheery voice of my sister Jill but not best pleased I have to leave messages for my son, daughter and good friend Liz - why can’t people be in?? I need to talk and tell them I am well; then the world seems a smaller place.

Monday 12th Nov

We are on our way to the airport and I am surprised when the taxi driver says “thank you,” as I lift my suitcase into the boot of his taxi. Normally, most taxi drivers don’t seem to want to speak in their own tongue, let alone in English. Once in the car, the middle aged driver is happy to tell us he can speak a little English. He asks where have I come from and also if I like football? He likes Manchester United! Now taxi drivers are an interesting species in China. They drive like crazy all day long, intimidating whoever gets in the way, using their car horn like a ray gun to blast all other road users of the way and hardly speak at all. So naturally I am interested to find out more about them and with a friendly driver I can find out a little more. Well all I discovered is that they drive 24 hour shifts - no wonder they don’t want to talk and they have to pay 600 yuan a month to the taxi company. So I guess when the average fare is around 15 yuan, they have to drive like crazy.

I then ask Crystal to find out how much it will cost to travel between the two airports but she already knows this - around 300 yuan; it is a two hour journey. This is not good news for me who has been working out my entire journey home to the. In reverse order from Heathrow to Shanghai Pu Dong airport is a 12 hour flight, then the two hour taxi journey, a wait at the other Shanghai airport if I can get a connection that day, meet with Crystal at Guiyang airport, travel to Guiyang centre, catch a train to Zunyi approx 3 hour journey - shit! I’ll never do that in one day and that doesn’t include getting to Heathrow, which judging my last effort is all afternoon. My home country is getting further and further away. Yes, I had thought about the journey before but I guess not that much. Oh well, cross that bridge, bloody big one, when I get closer to it.

We arrive at the frenetic Hongqaio airport with three hours to spare. I phone Jeanette and Kevin but only speak to my daughter; it is another tearful ending to our call. I try to hide my emotions from Crystal and she comforts me.

We arrive in Guiyang in darkness and take a taxi to the centre and our hotel. We come to a toll road and the driver stops at the barrier and tells Crystal she must pay for toll but he will deduct it from the fare at the end. We are hurtling down this toll road, when suddenly there is congestion ahead, the road is blocked. Our driver slows, sounds his horn as usual and forces his way through, and the cause of the congestion? - drivers queuing at a petrol station! Dare I say it could only happen here?

---

Photos

eARTS...
not what you thought!

Cultural museum
curved building

Don't look at that..
watch the road!

Ways of getting around
Oops, looks like I'm about to be run over!!

Nanpu Suspension Bridge
The road circles twice before getting to the height of the actual bridge

Food is always fresh, hot and spicy
just like me .. haha!

barbecue at the table
Korean style

The Goodyear blimp
and a tiny kite

Henry Moor?
I don't think so

Playing the harmonica
with passion

Autumn sunshine
Simple pleasures

Quiet time
lunchtime for us in old quarter

Time to relax
There were two chefs both gazing out of the window while we ate at an opposite small restaurant.

Tea?
What I'd give for a decent cup of tea!