Pandas and monkeys and rivers, oh my! (We're not in Kansas anymore)

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Long time no blog, but I'm back on the case again. There's a big old chapter missing but to cut a long story short I'm now in Bali. I've also just realised it's Monday morning and am savouring that knowledge. The TravelBlog site wasn't operational for days and when it reappeared all my entries had been lost in a server crash type thing. Got in a bit of a strop and refused to have anything to do with the internet for a few days after that! Mature, I know. However, we have now made our peace and thanks to a godlike techno-genius in Brum most of what was lost has been recovered and I'm trying to sort out the most recent entry which I've found the text for but don't seem to be able to upload. My idiocy with all things computer really knows no bounds.

* There aren't any picures yet but I'll add some when I find a more friendly computer.

Let me take you back in the mists of time to late July when I was in Chengdu .

Ah yes, sleep deprived ravings on the subject of existence, I remember. Well I wasn't overactive in Chengdu which was par for the course really as the main draw of this city is the giant panda breeding centre, and pandas are a pretty idle bunch. I whiled away an afternoon in a lakeside tea house which was highly satisfactory. I like the idea of choosing your tea and then refilling from a seemingly bottomless thermos until closing time or bladder capacity get the better of you. By this time I'd acquired one of my childhood favourite books by Arthur Ransome and was fully engrossed in the adventures of the Swallows and Amazons (the excitement of which had first got me into the idea of sailing as a kid). After the teahouse closed up for the evening I was lucky enough to spend an hour spellbound by a group doing their tai chi practice in the park. Curiously a passing family were keen for their little daughter to say hello to me and have her photo taken but she was having none of it. As a result I am now the proud owner of a picture of a beaming dad with a scowling toddler trying to wriggle away.

I went to see the pandas the next day and have to say I was fully taken in by the cuteness of it all. You have to get there early at feeding time as it's the only time they really demonstrate any activity at all (and even then they eat while reclining on their backs - creatures after my own heart). Our crazy driver certainly made sure we got there on time, even driving straight through the scene of an accident rather than brake. I suspect Chinese population control extends to traffic fatalities as well as the official one child policy. And on that subject, how truly strange to see so many only children. Back from that tangent, I felt a bit sorry for the red pandas who were kind of sidelined in an enclosure near the back and had a very tiny proportion of souveniers compared to black and white stars of the show. Kind of City to the giant pandas United. Much as I applaud the conservation efforts at this centre you have to wonder sometimes whether a species has simply had its day. The evidence?: Apparently pandas are carnivores but will only eat bamboo, and then only the few types that they like! They have so little energy that they do nothing which includes often not bothering to mate the one time a year they have to get it on (so much so that the conservationists have had to create panda porn - the mind boggles..... "I've come to fix your bamboo plantation....."!?!). Even when they do go for it the male's equipment is too short to guarantee a pregnancy and there are frequent miscarriages. You've got to wonder about evolutionary fitness really! To cap off the comedy there was a picture of none other than John Prescott awkwardly cuddling a panda on some official visit. It's no wonder they've all gone off sex.

After generally being lazy for a couple of days I properly made up for it by visiting Emei Shan, a large mountain and one of the most revered Buddhist sites in China. Repeatedly trashed by various prevailing regimes the temples and monasteries are back in full effect and it's a big pilgrimage spot. Climbing the whole mountain however seems to be a draw for only a few these days and most take full advantage of the buses and cable cars. Not me though, oh no I just had to do the whole 25 mile climb up the tortuous concrete steps didn't I. Well, it was extremely beautiful and therefore well worth it. I'd been aiming for 'Long Life Monastery' on the first day, but fearing that mine might be prematurely curtailed if I carried on I stopped short and was put up for the night at a charming temple with mountain views from the precariously positioned outside toilet. The kindly people there encouraged me to come and eat something, which clearly involved picking what I'd like from a wooden rack of vegetables. Tired, confused and at my least decisive when embarrassed I accidentally ended up picking cucumbers, aubergine and a cabbage which didn't bode well. However, within 5 minutes I was served up the most tasty dinner I've had so far. God knows what he put in the cucumber stir fry but it was a winner. Should've known you could trust a Buddhist for some quality veggie scram. Retiring to my little room I snuggled into my electric blanket under the heart festooned covers that read 'Brief Love'. Not sure if this was an exhortation to engage in one night stands or what but it was comedically out of place in a monastery.

Having failed to rise at dawn with the monks when the gongs and bells began to ring I got going again and had breakfast at a cliffside temple shortly before being mugged by a monkey. I passed him and we exchanged frosty glances but I thought I'd got away with it before he launched himself at my back and stole the drink I'd been diligently defrosting all morning and forgotten about in a side pocket. Leaping just out of reach beyond the railings he sat, chomped straight through the bottle and stared at me with a 'yeah and what are you gonna do about it?' look on him. Simian bastard. Unbelievably I made it to the top with my rubbish knees intact and no need for my inhaler (I knew humidity was good for something). Good job I did as the shame of failing in the sight of the poor sods lugging chunks of concrete path up there on their backs would have been too much. There were also scores of elderly Chinese making their way up like the Mystics and the Skeksis except that these lot seemed hale and hearty. I suppose when you've got through the horrors of the Cultural Revolution and everything else the 'Great Leader' threw at them a mountain isn't much of a challenge. These people are hard as nails. The main draw of the mountain is the legendary sunrise but sadly due to persistent cloud cover this was a decided non-event. Quite a pleasure to join in with the ritual dark, cold pre-dawn stumble to the top though. Hot footed it back down a different quieter route and managed a cheeky bit of tai chi practice next to a stream when I got the place to myself. The heavens opened a few kilometers from the finish line and I got involved in the amusing scene of people hopping from rock to rock back and forth across the stream with their multicoloured brollies. All very Mary Poppins. Chatted with a bloke on the bus back who turned out to be at the same hostel I was and spent most of the night getting recklessly drunk and watching half films on the unreliable DVD player (a choice that didn't seem quite so wise when I had to get up 1.5 hours later to make the journey to the Yangtze River).

Chongqing was the start point for my Yangtze cruise and I'd been assured by a resident that it was a beautiful city. Sadly at first sight it appeared to be the armpit of the world fashioned in concrete and filth. An advertising hoarding at the bus station declared 'Top Garden City', but positioned as we were under a flyover among sprawling tenements I couldn't quite see it myself. The centre was a totally different matter with designer stores wall to wall. Broke the bank in the supermarket stocking up for the journey, spending nearly six pounds on several bags of groceries and a top! We boarded at sunset and I was very quickly glad I'd treated myself to a first class berth. Even that was pretty dank and grim, but with a big window like a cinema screen of scenery I was happy enough. There were only 14 foreigners on board so I soon had some company, not to mention the crowds of little Chinese girls who all seemed keen to get a picture with me for some reason. Hope their cameras survived the experience. Great to be back on water again, although it was patently dirty water. The majority of the surface flotsam appeared to consist of bamboo, polystyrene and flip flops. Amused myself with the thought of the whole Three Gorges Dam project being plugged with lost flip flops and plunging central China into darkness. Our first stop in the rainy morning was Fengdu Ghost City which I expected to be an abandoned town where we'd learn more about the dam flooding. However, it turned out to be a very odd amusement park of sorts very much like a British seaside resort around the time everyone had discovered Florida. The main feature was a ghost train style cellar without the train. I was particularly taken with the 'Hells' section complete with lurid tableaux and motheaten figures. Couldn't decide whether the 'hell of pulling tendons' or the 'hell of punching hearts' would be worse. For some reason all of the female figures were either naked or topless. No mention of the 'hell of misogynistic objectification' though!

Back on the water we passed through the first big gorge. I fell into watching for the 175m markers showing where the water will rise to when the dam is finished. More than half of it has been done already but there's still a dramatically deep way to go yet. The next couple of days involved generally lazing about watching the world go by, enjoying gorges large and small and trying to drink horrible room temperature Chinese lager. On arrival, we enjoyed a tour of the dam which at first sight wasn't as high as I'd imagined but the power of the water was extraordinary. I'm in a real environmental quandry about whether the destruction of the three gorges area is worth the reduction in coal and nuclear power. I fear there is no good answer to the problem. Being in China has made me rather pessimistic about environmental issues altogether. I can't help but conclude that it's a done deal and my paltry efforts at reducing, reusing, recycling etc are utterly pointless. Having been talked into taking the tour company bus to Wuhan I was inevitably dragged to their hotel of choice rather than where I actually wanted to go and ended up being smuggled into the room of a New Zealand couple I'd befriended (not in that way I hasten to add!).

Wuhan was mercilessly hot the next day and I basically hid in a hostel waiting for my afternoon train to Guilin. Swapped my book for A Tale of Two Cities, which I last tried and failed to read over 20 years ago. I tried my cunning upgrade tactic again but sadly to no avail and the 14 hour overnight trip was spent in an overcrowded and fully lit seated carriage. It was actually alright apart from the man opposite who continually hawked and spat phlegm on the floor during the journey. Spitting is such a problem in China that they've passed a law against in in view of the olympic visitors sensibilities, but to no avail I fear. I was perfectly ok engrossed in Dickens in my somewhat dodgy surroundings until about 2am when a policemen approched me apologising for the poor standards, warning me to take care of my belongings and enquiring as to why I didn't have a sleeper ticket. I'm sure he was trying to be nice but he could hardly have made me feel more different if he'd tried. Not one of my Chinese carriage mates received the same concerned attention.

Arriving in Guilin before dawn I crawled to my hostel and slept on a sofa until I could check in. Marginally refreshed I went in search of the famous Guilin scenery. Rather than being the town I'd expected, it was a city of over a million. I started to spot chunks of limestone in between the buildings and climbing to the top of the main one in town, could suddenly see what all the fuss was about. Mainly flat, the whole area was dotted with huge limestone karsts. Enjoyed a couple of days wandering the mountains and caves with my book and then, leaving my heroes trapped in revolutionary Paris, I let myself eat cake (a rarity in China and a pleasant surprise). Also spotted a woman crossing the street with a bag of frogs that evening. All very rum.

On to Yangshuo which is famed for its scenery and for being a bit of a traveller mecca. Well, the scenery is still there but whatever there might have been in terms of a quiet hangout is long gone and I was horrified to find myself in the middle of a Costa Del Sol style resort. Not because is was unpleasant, but more that it was overpriced, noisy and rammed to the rafters with people which is a surefire way to feel really alone. I also discovered at this point that all my blog entries had been lost and spent a couple of days feeling grumpy and lonely. However, consoled myself by going climbing one day which was fantastic until I ran out of energy and used up the last of my strength on self-reproachful swearing followed by floods of embarrassed tears. Felt much better for a good cry though and repaired to a bar called 'The Stone Roses' for the strange juxtaposition of expensive lager, Hemmingway, a Chinese football game and cacophonous electro-techno type stuff. Cheered myself up with a plan to leave and go to Hong Kong early, but the day was saved when my drinking partner from Chendu walked into the hostel and we picked up on the drinking where we'd left off! In between pints I also managed to see the local water and lights show which was an arresting mixture of dance, movement, singing, boats, illuminations and other props set on the river with the lit mountains as a backdrop. Apparently the team who designed it are also doing the opening ceremony for the olympics which bodes very well indeed. The next day we eventually dragged our arses to a bike rental place and went in search of the local Moon Hill. Having gone the wrong way from the outset, the day was much more of an adventure than anticipated but we got to see some amazing countryside including people working the rice fields and water buffalo snorting neck deep in pools. With dusk on the way and travelling suspiciously opposite to what was required we were relieved to find a half completed motorway going the way we needed it to and enjoyed a surreal race down the empty carriageway. I'd joked that I hoped it didn't end in an unfinished flyover but it turned out that it did and there was some comedy as we wended our way unopposed through the cement hoppers, trucks and scaffolding of the build site. Finally on track we caught the moon hill at sunset and hoofed it back to town in the dark. Great fun, and well earned cocktails were had after a meal at a restaurant featuring fried tendon and bowel on the menu. The urge to leave was strong, but in true British polite style I felt unable to as I'd already taken the wrappings off my crockery. Next day after some more epic lazing around I got on the overnight sleeper bus to Shenzhen and the border crossing to Hong Kong. Sadly, the last leg of my overland epic from Moscow was a bit of a nightmare due to the provision of giant plush blankets which took up more than half the bunk and prevented the use of the seatbelt, which made the top bunk a bit precarious on some of the roads!

I couldn't believe the difference as soon as I crossed the border. Despite the passage of 10 years since the handover, the 'one country, two systems' approach feels like another country altogether. Mainland China itself had been easy to negotiate due to the proliferation of either 'pinyin' or English signs (and much more spoken English) but in Hong Kong I might as well have been in England. Also a bit of a shock to the system to see such an ethnically diverse group of people. I don't think I'd seen more than ten black people since leaving Birmingham. My distinctly dodgy lodgings in Kowloon were in a fire trap rabbit warren of a building peopled exclusively by Indian and African traders and the odd backpacker. In a clean but windowless box it was hard to tell what time it was and I felt really rather disorientated in addition to the culture shock. However, Hong Kong proved to be splendid and I didn't want to leave. Had lots of fun riding back and forth on the Star ferry, gawping at the waterfront scenery and riding the 800m escalator all the way up the hill (well, it was there and you've got to see what's at the top when a giant escalator is presented to you). On the way back down I found a pleasant looking wine bar, enjoyed my first glass of wine for seven weeks and did a bit of people watching. Bloody lovely. Sadly my plans to infiltrate the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club were scuppered by a typhoon. How very inconvenient. I'd blagged my way past security into exactly the kind of intimidatingly grand club that put me off the idea of sailing for so long and enquired about the chance of crewing in the Friday race. Rather than throwing me out on my ear they said to come back and try my luck. Unfortunately when Friday came the whole city battened down the hatches and taped up its windows as the tornado came in and I was forced to spend seven hours in an Irish pub being given more Stella than I bought by the barman who thought it was wrong that I should be drinking alone with a book. Of course this just meant that I drank more, alone with my book, but I wasn't complaining. Recklessly went to the waterfront to be a joyful pisshead in the rain and then threw myself into bed. Eased my sore head next day by going to Stanley on the other side of the island. Normally a lovely beach resort I understand, but this day a rain and windswept bay. Sought shelter and hair of the dog in the Smugglers Inn among an exclusively British clientele to a soundtrack of quality 90's idie. Definitely not in Kansas anymore and still feeling out of place due to the suspicion that the public schools of Britain simply tip their alumni into suits and leave them in Hong Kong to drink and bray at each other about the markets. Actually overheard a genuine sloane girl saying 'oh ya' to someone. I didn't think they really existed! Explored the delights or otherwise of Kowloon's night markets and eventually admited that I would have to go to bed and leave in the morning.

Certainly quite disconcerting to be back in an airport but the flight went smothly and I was childishly excited to see the tops of smoking volcanos above the clouds as we approached Bali. The 2.5 hours crawling through passport control weren't so much fun though. I'd planned to fly straight out to Java the next day so had booked to stay nearby. Unbeknownst to me this was where the bombing took place in 2002. I came upon the monument one evening. I may not have particularly liked the surfer dude, touristy atmosphere of the place but it was very sobering to think of all those people local and tourist alike being killed on that spot so recently. What really got me was the pairs of surnames - all the sisters and the brothers. Very sad indeed.

Flight plans off due to them all being sold out, I have started my journey in reverse by bus and am now in Lovina. I'm staying right on the beach with the sound of the Bali Sea to send me to sleep. Not bad at all. Tomorrow I make for Java and go in search of volcanos.

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Photos

Stairway to hell
Yep, this went on for 25 miles

River deep and mountain low
The 175m mark on the Yangtze

Comedy Chinese signs #1
'I wanna see like common people'

Comedy Chinese signs #2
As you do

Yangshuo scenery
Couldn't believe it, but it really does look like this!

Comedy Chinese signs #3
For when a Brazilian's just too passe

Victoria Harbour, Hong Kong
Perfect sailing weather?!

Hong Kong skyscraper light show
Like a beseiging army on the shore having a disco.

Once more to the skies
Never get tired of that sight