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Published: August 2nd 2006
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By the end of my first day in Beijing, I was convinced that I was the butt of some backpacker's joke that I didn't quite get. What had I ever done to Graham McCarthy or Ultan Geraghty that led them to send me to a filthy, smelly, concrete labyrinth under the pretence that it was one of the best cities on the planet? Looking back however, it wasn't exactly with a clear head that I arrived in the metropolis that has represented the epicentre of Chinese culture for almost 1,000 years.
The night on the lash with Westlife in Shanghai had certainly taken it's toll. Think back to the most hungover you've ever been rushing for a flight in a strange country, stumbling from train to taxi in a state of semi-conscious, desperate for 5 minutes to stop and steady yourself - maybe even afford yourself the luxury of a tactical chunder - but for the hurry to catch the flight that will ultimately lead to the attainment of your short-term goal: bed for the day. Well that's the kind of shape I was in when we touched down in Beijing.
Even with 40kms between the airport and the
Countdown to 2008
China getting ready to show the yanks, aussies and all the rest how it's done hotel that Bugs and Dondo had checked us into the previous day, the utopia of a bed and a soft pillow seemed tantalisingly close. Under fear of death, our taxi driver was forced to understand a language he didn't know he was capable of and less than 2 minutes after depositing us at our destination I fell forward onto my bed like Apollo Creed after receiving that killer-blow from Ivan Drago.
It was then, face down and drooling, that I heard Bugsy's voice: "you have to apply for that Russian visa today or you can forget the Trans-Siberian."
Eh?
And so after 6 hours of hell, the realisation dawned that I had less than an hour to make the hour and a half journey across one of the world's busiest cities in a boiling taxi that couldn't even spell a/c with a driver whose breath would make you scream.
So you could say that me and Beijing really didn't get off to the best of starts. And that hangover was a resilient fecker, still hanging-over me the following day as we traipsed around Tiannemen Square taking in Chairman Mao, the Forbidden City and all that jazz.
My good mate Tommy Butler
The only question is why do they have a massive picture of him hanging in Tiannamen Square? Unfortunately for me, it turned out that the Forbidden City wasn't forbidden at all; indeed tourists are encouraged to roam free with their cameras, arsey smiles and B.O. You may be detecting here that I wasn't really in the spirits for sightseeing but I was at least excited at the prospect of the hour and a half trip across town with the breath guys to pay the agency for my pending train trip. Aye right. Oh well, at least there wasn't too much Chinese bureaucracy at the bank trying to get the money out and the 83 Euro transfer fee was fair enough. 83 fecking EUROS!!!!!!!!!! Beijing - forgive the vulgarity - but was somebody pulling my plonker?
Needless to say that once I got those chores out of the way and waved ta-ta to the ghost of hangover past I started to enjoy the city a bit better. No matter what fate I'd suffered, I suppose it was nowhere near as bad as that of the poor wee ducks that i tucked into whenever my belly gave off the slightest rumble of hunger. Or the plum sauce for that matter. We caught up with the Irish girls we'd
met in Yangshou and had a cracker of night with their pal who had been working in the city for a few years and a bottle of gin (will I ever learn?). The generous wee darlin even brought us all out to dinner in one of the city's swankiest restaurants (surely I don't give the impression of looking like I need a good feed?!). I'm sure I made a fine account of myself in those hiking boots I've been travelling about in... Oh and Martina came out wearing a wig with predictable results...
Eight paragraphs in and no mention of the wall. Sure you've watched the films and seen the pictures so I'll not go on too much but suffice to say it was number 1 on the all-time list for me. Taj Mahal, Empire State, Eiffel Tower, Ayres Rock, Niagara Falls and all the rest take a back seat. I was sick the day the lads went so I enjoyed it in splendid isolation to the soundtrack of some eerie chillout stuff on my ipod. The aura of ancient mystery was somewhat shattered by taking the zipline down from the wall to the car-park but that was just
a bit of fun. Ming dynasty, take a bow.
After that, it was time to say goodbye. Enda, randy as a billygoat and with all the enthusiasm of a child sliding across a newly polished dancefloor at a wedding was finally off to meet his love and I was to continue westwards with Dondo and Bugsy, the aimiable nordies. I felt like Alberto losing Che, the life and the soul of my adventures. But, as I've leanerned, that's travelling.
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Paul Le Guen
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FFS
Great pics of the wall, shame about the top!!