Bright lights, big city!

So far since leaving Mongolia my route has been Beijing, Langzou, Xi Ning, Vangye, Jiayuguan, Dunguan, Urumqi, Almaty (Kazakhstan) and now Bishkek in Kyrgyzstan. From here I expect to make a circular route around Issy Kul lake, then onto Osh. It's from Osh that I will take a bus through the border crossing at Irkeshtem and onto Kashgar.

The Magoe Caves at Dunhuang were nearly left out, and aren't I glad I didn't. Courtesy of a fellow traveller I was awoken at some ungodly hour to get there early, so thanks Shay (no doubt he'll correct the spelling if he links up with this blog). It was a shame that the caves were only open for guided tours, it could have been more of a shame that we joined in with a Chinese tour rather than wait for a foreign language guide. Our only purpose was to see the caves, also known as the caves of a thousand Buddhas, though there is another by that name so they shouldn't be confused. Obviously we didn't understand a single word of the tour, we also forgot our torches so had to make do with the flash round on the guide's torchlight. the imagery was excellent, thousands of metres of frescoes, and iconography of so many Buddhas. But the caves were dark, photography was banned and viewing was strictly controlled, how naff is that? (Photo: Undisturbed Buddhist caves - Dunhuang, Gansu Province)

Considering the average tourist in any country, let alone China, it really isn't bad at all. In fact it's necessary to keep the heritage of countries safe. Flash photography fades frescoes and other such antiquities, of course it shouldn't be allowed with old paintings and statues. Barriers are up to stop people touching anything, and so they should be. When you see the 30m high statue of Buddha, the wonderfully ornate paintwork on his robe, I can't imagine the devastation thousands of hands would have each day if left free to roam. His hems were painted in fine golden Chinese dragons, the edging done in exquisite swirling designs of delicate purple. I agree completely, protect this remarkable heritage, let future generations appreciate the wonders betrothed to us. (Photo: At the Buddhist caves - Dunhuang, Gansu Province)

With my eyes finely tuned to the wonders that surround me, my next leg of the journey brought a lot to look at. Initially I marvelled at the level of cultivation, the orderly vineyards stretching over many acres, the concrete post supporting the aged timbers for the vines to grow up. The Cape Gooseberries growing under the shade of the vines, not an inch was wasted. Maize and sunflowers grew in conjunction with the numerous vines, but in lesser numbers, often the maize would be grown around a field of the gooseberries, whether for shade or or shelter from the wind I don't know; maybe it gave some protection from specific pests. I refuse to believe it was random, the Chinese don't do such things for no reason. And with this in mind I must assume that the marginal areas of desert aren't cultivated because the hassle isn't worth the effort. (Photo: Vine growing method - Dunhuang, Gansu Province)

From the peripheries of Dunguan the countryside changes abruptly from tight packed cultivated land to open desert in the blink of an eye. This is sandy desert, with few undulations and fewer signs flora. Of the fauna you never know, whilst on our night excursion a small rodent was spotted scurrying around the tents. I also saw a squorpion, a very small sand coloured beast. Having come across such things in the Sinai desesrt I knew them to ve poisonous, but that they weren't deadly; being stung is like catching a severe dose of flu for a few days. I wasn't panicing over one squorpion, though it did cause a few worried outbursts.The desert may look vast and lifeless, it rarely is though. (Photo: Crop method - Dunhuang, Gansu Province)

They tend to be large, they are intimidating, they are inhospitable; but for many people they are their lives. However you see them, deserts are seldom the same. And, after a bumpy night's bus ride, I awoke to a completely different desert landscap. This one was much more dynamic, from the roadside to the horizon layer upon layer of shape and colour sizzled under blazing sunshine. We travelled on a road raised off the ancient gritty lake/sea bed. From the flat gravelly bed rose banks of sand, light ochre to brick red, often forming embankments, looking more man made than natural. For me the picture was only complete with the mountains, in staggered formation behind. Always my heart settles when within the grasp of mountain ranges, they make me feel at home, wherever I am. (Photo: Desert scene - Xingjiang Province)

The bus took 30 hrs to reach Urumqi, a journey that was meant top take 24. The views were awesome, I could never tire of them, even if I did feel impatient to meet Steve and Leane again. These are friends from Sri Lanka, we met a few times there; they now teach English in Urumqi, which is very handy for me. Not only would I have a bit of relaxed space for a few days, I could let down my hair a bit. I erased such thoughts from my mind, sat back and enjoyed the view while it lasted. I had the luxury of being met at the bus station, it took a while before Steve got the correct bus station, but I was fine stood around watching the world go by. Tension between the Uigyers and Han Chinese are a bit high in Xinjiang province, there's been some riots in the last few weeks in Kashgar, not long before in Urumqi. People died, these are real riots, with real bullets fired into the crowd, policement died and so did a score of rioters. These folk weren't looting during the riots, they were fighting for their rights; none of them used it as an excuse to rob and pillage. So faced with the prospect of going to Osh and Kashgar I don't see it as particulary dangerous, ethnic tensions are soaring, the military are present in large numbers; I only have to ensure I don't get caught in the crossfire. Where-as in London I could expect some lowlife opportunist to use the riot as a chance to rob me, I know which I'd rather be in. (Photo: Colours of the desert - Xingjiang Province)

Urumqi impressed me, yes you heard me right, stuck in a huge, noisy and crowded city I enjoyed it. It's modern, young and vibrant. Huge towers poke into the heavens, wherever you look the sparkle of chrome and glass glints in the sun. I didn't find them ugly, they are in no way uniform; the architecture is bold and inspiring. Smack bang in the middle is the People's park, meeting point and playground for both young and old. Locals flocked there for recreation time, exercise machines, fairground rides and countless stalls to amuse yourself. Various music played in different sections, here some ballroom, there some jazz; wherever music was to be found so would the dancers. Traditional music was played in many locations, and large crowds gathered for a traditional play with gorgeous costumes and quirky action. Of course I couldn't make out what the hell was going on, and that didn't detract from the experience. And when it goes dark the city lights up, video screens 10m or more high keep folk abreast of the best beauty products, or the best insurance deal; this is modern China, if it's worth having it'll let you know, flashing with bright lights and loud speakers. Our first night on the town I hung out the taxi window, like a country hick, oohing and aahing; it might as well have been Vegas for all I cared. (Photo: Ripples and folds in the desert - Xingjiang Province)

For the weekend we took off from the city to Tia' chin, an area to the north. If I thought it was to be a quick trip to a tourist spot, I was sorely mistaken. It took a fair while for the taxi van to pick us up, they wouldn't let us into the nature area when we arrived because it was too late. I think with a van load of determined tourists, especially whie tourists the chips were stacked in our favour. Whether it has any bearing or not one aspect of the situation made me laugh. While the others were at the barrier, pestering the guards to let us in, I took out my camera. Saying to one guy it could either get me in trouble of work in our favour, I went to snap some pictures of the closed gate and guards, with my friends protesting at our exclusion. I only managed to take one picture and the guard suddenly told us to get in the van and carry on. (Photo: Another desert scene - Xinjiang Province, China)

It may have only been for one night, but the spot was gorgeous. Mind you we had a horrendous climb up a treacherously slippery slope of scree. Having a full pack wasn't good for my knees, carrying much weight for more than a short distance isn't good for them. But I made it, and they didn't give me much grief after; not until the next day anyway. It's funny watching guys trying to play Alpha male, the prime time to experience this is on camping trips or at barbeques. Any one would probably do a good job, but they all try to do it their way at the same time, jumping in and changing what's already been done. We got there as it turned dark, we didn't eat until well past mid-night. Steve and me stood and watched the palaver, they all meant well but it often needs one person to co-ordinate the procedes. The only slight hiccup was from myself, finding it too much that someone dug a second firepit, lit another fire so they could do it their way. It was unnecessary and I felt I had to make that clear. (Photo: Wet relief to one of the hottest regions on earth - Xinjiang Province, China)

As a farewell from the city I had a complete stranger see me having difficulty getting a taxi, when they realised I was likely to be late for my bus they drove me there themselves. That touched me, it's how China has treated me. Whilst many others have found it impersonal, the people rude, I've been helped more times than hindered, raised smiles more than scowls. It depends on your own vibe folks, open up and let the world smile with you.

♫ I've been through the desert on a...♫

Except it wasn't a horse it was a camel; with no name I mean. I had the male, the lead animal, at least on the outward trip. I was gracious enough to swap beasts for the return home when one of the others wanted a change. Rather than follow my initial reluctance, I placed myself in their position, thought how I would have liked a go in the lead position if the situation were reversed, and swapped places graciously. It's not as if I haven't been on a camel ride across the desert before. It was certainly better up front, so why not share the experience? I've dug deep and hard into my psyche to pull myself out of a rut, hopefully the slope is no longer slippery, hopefully I can start dragging myself back up it now.Never under estimate the power of your own mind, it can destroy you utterly; it can also be your saviour. Such little episodes as above may seem so trivial, but they all mount up. I'd let a host of minor annoyances play on my already depleted sate of mind, but it isn't how I want to be. I've largely come away to rediscover the wonderous world we live in, to appreciate how precious life is; it won't happen by dissing everything and being intolerant. Bear in mind that we are the ones in control of our own minds, use that privileged position wisely, or suffer the consequences. My natural tendency to criticise rather than cherish is my undoing, it plagues my inner peace, blinds the eye to the wonder around me, makes me sink into a dark and troubled frame of mind. (Photos: 1] First view of Singing Sands; 2] Before I got the hump - Dunhuang, Gansu province, China)

Once leaving the centre of Dunhuang huge dunes appeared, rearing up from behind the guesthouse, mountains of sand in exquisite contours, in a myriad of subtle shades. Such an awesome background still failed to dwarf the sight that beheld, the beautifully ornate building and courtyard of the hostel. How could I not notice the beauty of it's traditional Chinese design? A porticoed courtyard allows a light and airy space to relax and while away the day. Delicate wooden scrollwork joins the courtyard pillars to the supporting beams; of no practical purpose they serve only to please the eye. Ochre painted woodwork accentuates delicate, sombre oranges and yellows in scrolls, petals, curlicues, and fish scales. Paintings of typical Chinese brushwork grace the main beams, monochrome bamboo, mountain fortresses, roses, and ornate archways sat upon beautiful headlands. Bamboo rafters support a roof of glazed aquamarine tiles, scalloped to protect the edge from water ingress. Entering through iron studded gates corn cobs hang across the arches, drying in the sun. Chinese lanterns illuminate side shelters, silk screen pictures adorn the walls; the place is gorgeous. (Photo: Nothing but sand - Dunhuang, Gansu province, China)

Unfortunately I had little time to appreciate my new abode, with only an hour before the camel excursion my concern was to shit, shower and shave in rapid succession. With barely enough time to shove a plateful of food down my throat I couldn't even indulge in sharing a conversation with the first western folk I've seen since Beijing. Not to worry, I was only going for one night, and with three other Europeans on the excursion, we'd be able to engage in a meaningful conversation in the depths of the Taklamakan desert, while gazing at the Milky Way. (Photo: Razor sharp ridge of sand- Dunhuang, Gansu province, China)

(Photo: Every shade of sand, - Dunhuang, Gansu province, China)

Hmmm, It didn't quite turn out the way I assumed. With a Chinese tourist in the group, who obviously had no thoughts of peaceful reflection, of enjoying the perfect stillness of the barren sands, any chance of quiet contemplation went out the window. Shouting out songs at the top of his voice didn't enamour me to our Chinese companion, neither did his advice against taking pictures of the dunes. A graveyard lay scattered as far as the eye could see, filling the foreground, completing a picture of depth and intensity. It brought to mind the absence of life, emphasising the harsh reality of the lifeless terrain before us. Being warned not to take pictures of the graveyard wasn't what I wanted to hear. Superstition isn't in my nature, abiding to that of others goes against the grain somewhat. But away went the camera, I didn't want to cause offence, and with it went my went my spirits. That marked the beginning of a struggle with my own negative demeanour, the singing and constant chatter only added to it. I had envisaged being able to exchange meaningful words with fellow travellers, enjoying the presence of other westerners. Conversation wasn't really the most important aspect of the camel ride though, I'd have been happy with tranquility, I certainly hadn't expected a constant barrage of Mandarin. Unable to do much more than catch his breath between sentences, our Oriental friend talked Chinese non-stop to the guide, taking away any chance to soak in the flavour of the desert. He didn't speak any English, yet dominated the social gathering, to the exclusion of everyone else. It proved a long and not very relaxing night before I gave myself a kind word or two and endeavoured to be more tolerant. It took a walk into the dunes on my own to gather my thoughts, it was sorely needed, I could feel my ire rising. (Photos: 1] Ships of the desert; 2] Living on the fringe - Dunhuang, Gansu province, China)

All in all the experience was just that, an experience; neither positive nor negative. Too many past experiences can taint the present one if comparisons rule the proceedings. It may be difficult to see everything in a new light, but we shouldn't be ruled by the past. I'm constantly having to remind myself to lighten up, but I do have the self awareness to realise the necessity of this. I've chosen this path of discovery, I need to lift myself out of the mire. I believed travelling would do this, I am all too aware that it's preferable to the existence I'd created at home. There I found myself struggling to appreciate anything life had to offer. Who would chose that type of life over the chance to explore, the opportunity to experience a wealth of new cultures, a host of colourful characters? So that's my aim, wherever I go, however I get there, to keep my eyes open and appreciate what confronts me. it won't always be easy, but that's the way of life, we must all take the rough with the smooth. (Photos: Food for thought - Dunhuang, Gansu province, China)

Breaching the impenetrable wall!

Floundering, through life, through my travels, what can be inspirational about that? When once I stood proud and firm now I dither, uncertain of what to do and how to do it. When those around me see me as exemplary I falter, when you admire, I despair. How I yearn for those days, that time when I soared the peaks of the American wilderness, riven in two, yet living life with every ounce of my being. How magnificent the simplest of nature’s gifts, how beautiful, how precious every minute of life became. Time is the great healer everybody assured me, yet it doesn’t heal the wounds, it doesn’t bring back that which matters most, it merely deadens the feelings. And so with four years gone life goes on, but what quality is that life? Feck all, absolutely feck all! Take what you may from me, strike me with whatever curse you see fit, but give me but a minute of that previous life, give me but one moment to savour that which I have lost. (Photo: Ravine at the end of the Great Wall - Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

Why should we want to lose that strength of feeling, who would want to lose the depth of love that meant so much? None of us do, yet we kid ourselves that all is well, that life goes on. It may well do, but what is life if it is valueless? What worth does it have if it is meaningless? My biggest fear is becoming a sad lonely old man, it doesn’t matter where I am, what adventure I kid myself I’m having, I’m still on my own. So many countries, so many previous adventures I relished being there alone, living life to the fullest. And now, no matter where I go, who I encounter, the experience is empty. Not wasted, never deplete, but alone and empty. I tire of being so, I hunger to share the pleasures and hardships of living as I once did with my son. None will ever replace him, no-one ever could, yet something, somehow to give it all meaning would help. I don’t ask for a miracle, I don’t wish for electronic love, I know I can no longer have my son, but please can’t I have something worthwhile. (Photo: Reconstruction of battle encampment - Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

(Photo: Reconstructed end of the Great Wall - Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

I know how lucky people think I am, and what person with travel in their heart wouldn’t, unless I drop the bombshell of losing Cai. That makes people think twice. It seldom happens though, I prefer to meet people and allow them the pleasure of seeing me as fortunate, not as a sad and broken man. Having tried to give balance to my observations, I now find myself in a position where I feel the criticism is taking over, that nothing is good enough. That’s not right, or desirable. I need to dig deeper, or so the initial thought dictates. Actually I need to lighten up, to let go the constant critique, allow the pleasure of life to enter my soul. And so I now undertake a new challenge, to make this journey worthwhile. My eyes have remained fully open, but my heart has formed an impenetrable barrier around it, fending off further hurt. This action in itself is the cause of where I’m at within myself, I must be brave and open up to the beauty and goodness in life; there is so much there, if I only allow myself to feel it. (Photo: Reconstructed end of the Great Wall - Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

No longer as adamant about fending off approaches by people who may be touting for tourist dollars, I find more opportunities can actually come my way. It can be a fine balance, some people are very persistent, and these are often the one’s to avoid. Pushiness appals me, I won’t tolerate it, but no longer will I be rude, just persistent in my refusal to comply. Sometimes I drop my guard, and sometimes I’m right to do so. Arriving at a busy transit point where unable to read any signs, understand the simplest information, it confusing and it obviously shows in my demeanour. This is new for me, it leaves me vulnerable, and people pick up on it. But I have in the past allowed a rickshaw or taxi driver to take me to a hotel, for a nominal fee, I always reserve the right to refuse. Twice now in China I forsaken that right, I’ve not bothered to argue over a higher class of hotel than I envisaged, insisting on a lower budget alternative. Both times the hotels were actually quite nice, and a heavy discount from their advertised rate was given. The first I wrote about in my last blog entry, in Jia Yu Guan the circumstances were similar, the hotel looked lush and was only £25 a night. I was a bit disappointed once booked in, for a start the room hadn’t been cleaned after the last guests, which wasn’t a good start for the staff. In all honesty though, the staff were beside themselves when I summoned them into my room and pointed it out. (Photo: Reconstructed end of the Great Wall - Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

Also in Jia Yu Gaun a restaurant owner started to chastise me for not ordering food for my driver too. I knew what she meant, but I wasn’t playing the game. Stating simply that I didn’t understand, she continued. The driver understood a little English, when I reiterated that no matter how fast and furious she spoke to me I could not understand a single word of it. And with this I turned round to him and asked what the problem was, also whether he was not eating as well. Whatever he said to her did the, she instantly changed and was all smiles and respect to me. They both hovered and seemed keen to know whether the food was to my liking. My words must have contradicted my actions, the Chinese find it polite to slurp and eat as noisily as possible, it shows appreciation of the food. It must have been obvious though, I devoured everything in double quick time, despite using chopsticks. When finished she was ecstatic with me, overjoyed, pumping my hand manically with an inane grin on her face. My assumption was the driver had pointed out that I was an ignorant foreigner, who didn’t understand the polite custom of feeding your driver too. If that was the case she would have lost face by chastising me so furiously when I knew no better, I was insulting only in my innocence. (Photo: Guan City Fortress - Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

Clearly I’ve been taking the easy way to tour the tourist sights in the last few places I’ve visited. By doing so I’ve felt more relaxed, less hassled, and saved a lot of energy. I normally deplore the habit converting local currency into pound sterling, it makes everything sound much cheaper. But China is hard enough anyway, I’d done it the hard way since arriving, it tired me out. In reality £14 is a lot of money for a Chinese taxi driver. For me it is more than worth the price to be driven all day, from one site to another, in relative comfort. I saved enough energy to enjoy the sites I saw, though even that way I was shattered by the end of a very hot and long day. Six and a half hours of being chauffeured around was worth it alone, to be taken to buy my onward ticket, therefore shown where the bust station was and ensured I had the right ticket for the right destination was invaluable. I could rest assured the following day would not start with any complications. And sure enough, all I had to do was show my bus ticket to a different taxi driver and he knew exactly where to take me. (Photo: Tourists dressing up for a photo shoot- Jia Yu Guan, Gansu Province, China)

So I don’t really begrudge the expense of biting into mainstream tourism. As a back packer, carting my heavy rucksack around in the scorching sun, it’s not pleasant. I don’t want to traipse the streets so burdened, looking for a hotel that might take a foreigner. For one thing it gives my knees grief, for another I want to enjoy this experience.

Little Tibet

Arriving in Lanzhou in miserable weather was not inspiring. I'd thought to stay over, utilise a hotel to rest for the day. Not when I saw it, it was dirty and industrial, looking as big as Beijing with none of the charm. For over half an hour I walked back and forth, wondering what the hell to do. I'd had enough of trains, my plan had been to catch a bus to Xi Ning, a much smaller city further north, heading along the Silk Route. I was hungry, having not eaten on the train at all, and desperate for my early morning squat. I couldn't find a toilet so decided on a bus instead, now which bus station do I need. Getting there at 7.30 am gave me plenty of time to get the hell out the place, I only had to find out how. If there is one thing I'm finding out about the Chinese, they will try and help you if they can, all you have to do is approach them. (Photo: Quan Qui Shan mountains - North west China)

Badly pronouncing a city name baffles them, but they aren't perturbed. I carry a notebook with me and write it down, which tends to do the job, even though it isn't in Chinese script. Smiling lots and looking dumb works wonders, between the three of them the women at the first bus station point out the correct bus, tell me the wrong number of stops and send me on my way. Finding myself lost in the city was easily sorted too, pop in a pharmacy, where a picture of a bus and the name of my destination gets me simple directions. Either I'd counted wrong or been mislead, I'm willing to take the blame, what the hell it makes no difference. A short walk, a confused ticket teller and a bit of persistence gets me a ticket, not of the first bus but one an hour later. Aah, enough time for the loo and some food! So for the first time I'm confronted with communal toilets, and I don't mean the urinals. Yeah, I will admit to being a bit shy trying to have a dump while being stared at; having dreads can be a disadvantage sometimes. I failed, just couldn't finish my business, or even start; a quick pee was enough to be getting on with. (Photo: Quan Qui Shan mountains - North west China)

The staff in the bus station were lovely, despite the fact I could communicate nothing to them. They took me and sat me where I could get some food; well I say food, I mean pot noodles, the mainstay of the Chinese diet when they travel anywhere. Someone came and got me when the bus was ready, and made sure I was safely in my seat well before departure time. I sat quietly and content, watching an increasingly beautiful world slip by. Dozing on and off the time passed quickly, a five hour drive went in no time. Xi Ning was due to be quieter, that's what I'd convinced myself anyway. When I walked out the station I was staggered to find a heaving mass of people, of many diverse cultures and creeds. It's marginally Tibetan, but also a strong Muslim area of China; till then China had consisted mainly of Han Chinese. Sitting down to give my head time to mull over what to do I was aware of receiving a bit of attention. Lifting my head I found myself surrounded by twenty of more people pressing in close, staring and discussing me amongst themselves. Beaming smile and a bright cheery, "ni haar," seemed to do the job. At least they recognised me as human then, I got flashes of bright white teeth in response, and they weren't snarling either. It didn't do them much good when they tried to talk to me, nor when I attempted to explain I wanted either a hotel or a bus further along the road. (Photo: Ma Ti Si Temple complex- Gansu Province, China)

There weren't any buses wednesday to Zhangye So I wouldn't be leaving town till the following morning. I'd seen a couple of hotels on the approach to the bus station, so I traipsed back that way with my murderously heavy pack. There were three or more, so I tried them one after another. No, No, No and No! I didn't even have to ask, they saw me and shook their heads; no foreigners here pal. Oh well, what to do? try another teller in the station, maybe they could prove more helpful. Indeed she was, she showed me the buses due to leave the following day, in English, so at least I got a ticket. I even got to wait in the waiting room, though I thought it might be open all night, like in India, so I could doss on the floor. But no, at 6pm I got a rather irate police officer shouting at me to leave, get out. Oh dear, that isn't the sort of way to get the best out of me, it just made me linger even longer. I did finally go before he called in his buddies, but he'd left me for over half an hour without further hassle. A handicapped guy who spoke a little English asked if he could help me, so I tried to get some info from him. First and foremost was where I could find a hotel, I thought the railway station, which he confirmed. So off I set. After walking about a mile I noticed he was following just behind me, he was apparently concerned for me, still wanting to help. He seemed quite humble and genuine; an impression I wish I'd kept at the forefront of my mind, I regret not doing so. (Photo: Quan Qui Shan mountains - North west China)

Insisting the Rail station was not within walking distance he persuaded me to go back with him. When we arrived back it was to be told we would need a taxi, and my inner alarm bells went off. So I checked for a price, 3 yen I was told. So I checked again, "is that 3 yen, not 30 yen"? Assuming he'd take me to a particular hotel and reap a commission I agreed, I could deal with that when we got there. It was ages to the station, so far I was convinced something dodgy was going down. But no, after half an hour we reached the rail station, at which point I was asked for 30 yen by the driver. This is so common by taxi or tuk-tuk drivers in Asia, normally I will not budge, but it was a long way, by far more than a mere 3 yen. And the guy took me to a small and grotty hotel which only cost me 40 yen. But when it came to getting some food I blew it. Ordering a cheap meal for myself I told him to order in the same way, after ordering he asked if I eat mutton, to which I replied yes. So a plate of it duly turned up, as well as a separate meal for each of us. When it came to paying the bill was 82 yen, not expensive by western standards but a far cry from the 10 yen meal I'd ordered for myself. I really dressed him down outside the restaurant, telling him in no uncertain terms that he'd taken advantage. I didn't shout or get aggressive, but I gave him his marching orders. Stopping to get cigarettes on the way, I got back to the hotel and he was there trying to find the owner, and I sent him packing again. Now I can't get this out my mind, I can't wipe out the look on his face, a look of incomprehension. And to be honest I feel ashamed of my actions.
Half the time I'm spending in China I'm like a little boy lost, not quite out of my depth, but not handling the language barrier very well. I'm coping right enough, I'm getting very good at Pictionary, but I'm not at my quickest or brightest linguistically. I can only praise all the people who I've stumbled into, who speak no English but put in a massive effort to help me. Few have been after my money, few have been trying to take advantage. Today a woman who felt like she was accosting me when I got to Zhangye, turned up trumps in my eyes; well her and her husband, who happens to be a taxi driver. I know she gave me the correct information to begin with, there are no buses to where I wanted to go, but I failed to get her to understand I wanted to know how close I could get a bus to the site. She stated the only way to get there was by taxi, which I know to be true, but you can get halfway there by bus. I actually took her husband's taxi, and it wasn't expensive for the journey and time spent at the monastery. Considering the phone calls to an English speaking friend, organising a decent hotel for a decent price, and their company for five hours I consider it money well spent. They've both been lovely to me, concerned for my welfare and happiness, maybe my linguistic helplessness brings out the best in many people. I certainly have no complaints about the way I've been treated in China, it may be hard, but the people have been lovely with me. All it needs is a smile, some sign that I'm a human being and see them as the same. (Photo: Ma Ti Si Temple complex- Gansu Province, China)

Rough Silk on the road!

There are way too many photos to upload, having taken over 500 since leaving Beijing, so I've had to be super efficient with my choices. They're not all the best quality ones, I've tried to take a selection from across the board. I've covered many miles and even more sights since leaving the capital, and just so Beijing doesn't feel left out there's even a few of my brief sightseeing tour there. It was a short stay, the way I'd intended, but less hassle than anticipated. It didn't make me feel like extending my stay there, it is a city after all. I forced myself to go and sightsee, but only once I'd sorted out a ticket. I couldn't believe they only had standing room, it was a 16 hour journey, I just preyed they could offer me an upgrade on the train. The advice I received was to ask when I first boarded, many people book and fail to show up leaving sleeping berths, at least a seat would be nice. (Photo: Tiennamen Square - Beijing)

As it happened I got nothing better, but I was forewarned and therefore very proactive in ensuring I got the best out of the situation. Turning up a couple of hours early I hustled for an upgrade, at the wrong checkin desk, but at least they pointed me in the right direction. then I walked straight to the front of the queue and laid out my rucksack so no-one else could squeeze past. My initial attempt to secure the upgrade failed, as did the second. But I wasn't about to waste time, boarding in front the hoards I got onto the right carriage and headed for the largest space available and once again planted me rucksack, staking my claim. From the looks I got off the other standing fares they were impressed at how well I'd managed. As the journey progressed I felt a touch selfish, having twice the space any of them did. Even when stretching my legs and offering my seat to others they politely refused. I had no leg room, only the length of my pack. It was adequate though, with my feet halfway up the carriage wall I could just about stop my hamstrings cramping up. (Photo: The forbidden city - Beijing)

Beijing really is immense, it takes ages to reach the boundaries of the city. But when you do the agriculture begins immediately, true, it is interspersed with plenty of ugly construction, but that comes and goes, the crops are always there in some form or other. Mainly maize is grown, I've still not seen any rice, I'm beginning to think it isn't the season yet. That can't be right though, it's the wettest part of the year, the best season for rice. So far the soil has been very sandy, you need waterlogged paddies to grow rice, so I can only assume that is grown in abundance elsewhere in the country. There is some diversity, some evidence of vines being grown, not much, but now and again a few fields look like it's vines growing. Potatoes are also found, not acres of them again a few fields interspersed with the ubiquitous maize. It's amazing how perfect the lines to the fields are, whatever sides follow natural borders are kept tight up to that border, no room is left for wasted space. The other sides are straight as a die. (Photo: Moat or waterway - Forbidden city, Beijing)

Broken terrain sported slight terracing, there wasn't a lot of need really, but they favour flat ground to grow in, it gives better control of watering. Many ponds were dotted about, fed by small streams, there seemed little need for artificial irrigation, the amount of rain recently gives testament to that. In the distance mountains formed a hazy background with thin lines of trees standing here and there. Within a few hours the landscape got slightly more rougher, hillocks of mudstone jutted from the flat terrain, solitary ones without much attempt at terracing them. I don't think the effort is warranted, every other space is crammed full of crops, I find it hard to imagine a food shortage. One thing I noticed, like most Asian countries, the fieldwork is mainly done by hand. In fact here I haven't even noticed the use of beasts of burden to work the land. (Photo: Terracing amongst the limestone- West of Beijing)

I actually slept, through most the hours of darkness, waking to a dull grey lunar landscape, made even duller by the persistent rain. The dull grey muddy black housing failed to improve the solemness of the land. Mudstone gave it all a dirty washed out look, though as it turned more to limestone it still looked pretty grim. Quarries didn't help there either, in otherwise deserted areas a quarry or cement processing unit gave it an even more dismal appearance. Yet still, in patches undisturbed by the plant machinery, crops lined ridges and depressions. The largest area of limestone was quite amazing, acres of land collapsed to form huge flat bottomed depressions. Both the sinkholes and the plateaus were chock a block with maize plantations. Then one area would be turned into a filthy dirty quarry pit, smoke belching from machinery, churned up tracks cutting through an otherwise resplendent scene. (Photo: Tibetan people - Xi Ning, Gansu province)

Amongst all this construction was underway, in town and country, housing tower blocks, industrial processing plants, roads, bridges, tunnels, and who knows what else. China is growing rapidly, filthy tenement blocks spoil beautifully turned out rail stations, which are freshly painted and spotlessly clean. Beside the old tenements soaring tower blocks stand in various states of construction. Passing through one city I lost count of the newly finished, but empty, tower blocks for housing. I got to estimating twenty, then thirty, and gave up, there must have been at least fifty of them. All were identical, in style, design, size and colour. Could this be China admitting their one child policy has failed, their preparations for the inevitable baby boom? I thought I could escape the huge city by leaving Beijing, if that was what I wanted I should have stayed clear of Lanzhou. (Photo: Mountain Pass - Xi Ning to Zhangye, Gansu Province)

Peking, ducky!

An early start for a long train journey, now I know why I don't like being a backpacker. Gana, the owner of the guesthouse, came up trumps again and got his wife to give a few of us a lift to the station. I can only compliment him on the manner in which he runs the place, he has a good grasp of the needs of western travellers. Gers on the roof on his two storey building, an excellent way to maximise the available space. His best decision is to have a large Ger as a communal space, it pulls the guests together, ensuring many a good night of socialising. Well I'd spent two and a half weeks in Ulan Baatar sorting out the documentation for Konrad to take my bike out of Mongolia and through Russia; if it hadn't been for Gana's Guesthouse it would have driven me insane. So my personal thanks to one and all, the staff the other guests and even Gana's relatives for a great feast of traditionally cooked Mutton at Naadam. (Photo: Beauty in the Gobi - Southern Gobi Desert, Mongolia)

For the third time I crossed the Gobi, in a different direction, though I don't think that matters; however many times you cross the scenery seems different. Was it my imagination or was this route sandier? Just my imagination I think, viewed from the height of a train carriage the deep sand shows more clearly. One thing is for sure, it once more brought to mind the rigours of riding across it. For hours I sat and stared out the window, marvelling at the sight, Mongolia is awesome, a delight to travel around, however you attempt to do so. Our train was modern, doors and windows tightly sealed, air conditioned carriages ensuring a cool environment to relax in. Sharing a four berth carriage provided a nice chance to be social, even if I had my doubts at first. But my temporary companions proved interesting, the time passed quickly and thirty hours went by with no hitches. I thought I'd turn out to be the undesirable element in the compartment, but not at all, at least not that anyone showed. I spent a bit of time with people from Gana's, and a few beers with an anonymous American living in Mazatlan. I know few of you will remember the significance of that; it was the ferry port of mainland Mexico, the start of the 'Road of a thousand turns'. the windiest, wildest road I had the pleasure to ride on my Americas trip. (Photo: Swapping Bogies - Chinese Border with Mongolia)

China and Russia use different gauges for their respective railway networks, Mongolia runs the Russian gauge, so whenever trains cross the borders the whole train must have the bogies changed before continuing. It seems a mammoth task, surprisingly it only takes a few hours, probably no longer than it would take to process a train load of people through Chinese border control. So we were saved that hassle, they had the forethought to collect all the passports and process them while we waited, not too patiently, on the train. In all fairness it was an interesting thing to watch, they lifted every carriage separately, but in lines of four, then slid the old bogies out and the new one's in. Each carriage in only supported by one bogie at each end, each bogie has four wheels. All electrical connections, plumbing and everything is built into the carriages with no connections to the bogies. When they lifted our carriage we didn't even feel it, it was done with one hydraulic lift in each corner of the carriage. It was funny, all the time it was being done a Chinese guard stood to attention, one at each end of each alley, between each line of carriages. I can only assume this was to ensure there were no absconders. As soon as the Carriage was lowered they came in, made us all sit in our respective places to check we were still there too. (Photo: Chinese mountain scenery - On the way to Beijing)

From the border it was time for bed. The only thing to do was prop up the bar all night or sleep, so I chose the latter. One waking the view was delightful, gone was the expanse of desert dotted with Gers, this was a rich and fertile land framed by the hermetically sealed windows. It didn't exactly allow me to feel the country that surround us, but my experience left no doubt as to the conditions. Soil type hadn't changed a great deal since Mongolia, but the abundance of agriculture was phenomenal. It seemed that nowhere was left uncultivated, it was so ordered, so neat and precise. Further south is changed, became more mountainous, still delightful and beautifully rugged. Mudstone turned to harder rock, the hills grew in stature, I was mesmerised. Train window don't make the best medium for taking photos through, but that wasn't about to stop me trying. Soaring mountains, plunging valleys; the train snaked through a succession of tunnels. It blew my mind, I loved every minute of it. Staggering scenery, how i wished I was on the bike. (Photo: Chinese mountain scenery - On the way to Beijing)

And so we trundled ever closer to Beijing, growing slightly more perturbed by the prospect of a dirty, overcrowded city, having to battle through hoards of impolite impatient people. This was the picture painted of China for me, courtesy of most travellers I'd met. The warnings were all of huge crowds, a culture that has little respect for personal space and are discourteous to foreigners, if not down right rude. True in one respect, on leaving the station the crowds were oppressive. To be honest it was no worse than any other Asian city I've been in, better than many. Being accosted by unlicensed taxi drivers I tried to get a price to the particular hostel I'd booked into (a first for me). A young women stopped to offer her help, only to be pushed aside by one of the drivers. Poor lass, I unceremoniously dispatched him and the rest with a torrent of abuse at their actions. I couldn't apologise enough to her, thanking her profusely I decided on a bus instead, which she directed me to. for 10p I rode the few miles to Tiennamen Square. My hostel was about a ten minute walk away, it took me half an hour to find it. I was melting by the time I got there, but a shower and beer sorted me out. I managed to stop getting disgruntled when I thought they were overcharging me. Apologising I explained how hot and tired I was, a reasonable excuse for being out of sorts. (Photo: Chinese mountain scenery - On the way to Beijing)

Leo Courtyard is a lovely looking hostel, busy, but fairly quiet in the actual courtyard part, which is where I'm staying. Situated in a Hutong, old residential area it makes a nice place to wander around. Sure the main thorough way is lined with shops, it is quite touristy, but hell it's Beijing. Tiennaman and the Forbidden City are just up the road, what's more, I like it. For a city it rocks, the people are a pleasure to be amongst after Ulaan Baatar. There is no hostility, no theft that I've heard of and isn't even as busy as I expected. Ok, they stare at me loads, but people do when I walk around in short sleeves, all part of having tattoos. In reality it's the dreads they stare at most, but it's not the same as Mongolians, it's partly in amazement. Some do not respond in any way, but a smile and nod get a favourable response from the majority. The rest generally look away when I stare back, I can't quite see why so many criticised the locals here. I've found most eager to smile and say hello, even when they obviously find ma a funny sight. (Photo: City slicker - Beijing)

To make me really feel at home it poured with rain on my first day here, for half the day. There's no point cowering from adverse weather as I always claim, so an umbrella was bought, and carried ever since. There is something nice about walking through pouring rain oblivious to the deluge, I always find it soothing as long as I'm mainly dry and warm. Here it also provides a chance to battle against the host of brollies that endeavour to poke your eyes out, especially as I'm that bit taller than the average resident of Beijing. Not that they mean to, they are not very aware of other peoples space. This situation improves when it's apparent that you aren't either. I find that walking down the road if I remain oblivious to all others, if I don't weave constantly to avoid everyone else, they move out my way. I didn't try this on the squad of Red Guards who marched straight through the crowded subway, everyone moved out their way. They yelled something out now and again, warning people of their imminent passage I assume. My impression of China is favourable from my first experiences in Beijing, and all the tales I've heard are horror stories. (Photo: Loe Courtyard Hostel - Beijing)

And now I sit holding back the tears as I watch a music video of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, they're playing Californication, Cai's favourite song by them.

Plans change, but keep on truckin'

On a wet and miserable day I awoke, what an awful day to set off for the return trip to Europe. But hey it isn't me having to ride the bike this time, I can't say I envy Konrad at this stage of the game. But he woke up in an intoxicating mood, the weather wasn't putting him off in the slightest. It still made me a bit twitchy seeing my bike being ridden away by someone else, shouting yeeha as he accelerated up the ramp out of the guesthouse. Sounds like good progress has been made, up to the border in one day, across by 9 am the following morning, and then on to Irkutsk. What a shame I'm so crap at carrying my mobile phone, maybe then I could have been at hand when he found he couldn't start the bike. Yep, I'd had the same problem myself a few times. I was convinced the starter button was dodgy, but found it could be a bit temperamental; press it right and it was fine. Once discovering this it never gave any more problems for me. Oh well, Konrad's solution was to rip out the wires and now starts it by touching the wires together. If only I'd had my phone on me when the problem occurred. But I can't get into that headspace, I've entrusted my bike to him, I have to give him the freedom to make the decisions now. My poor bike, no wonder I don't let other people work on my bikes. (Photo: Desert Nomads - Gobi Desert, Mongolia)

It isn't fair of me to slag him off, he's doing me a favour, I should be grateful not critical. The main point of this is to get my bike back to Europe and give Konrad the chance to end his year of travelling with a touch of adventure. It's a two way deal, I must respect that! I have my own plans, which change with tides (not that there are any in Mongolia). Tomorrow I catch a train to Beijing, I'm a backpacker now, whether I appreciate it or not. To fully enjoy the experience I must get off the well travelled circuit, and I won't do this by taking the Trans-Siberian Express. So I'm not heading back through Russia, instead I'll try to wind my way through the north west of China by local buses. From Urumqui I can catch a bus to Almaty in Kazakhstan, before dropping down into Kyrgyzstan. So the places I get to won't change too much, and I'm still doing the tour of Tibet, but now in a 4x4. This shouldn't be too bad, same route, same atrocious road, yet in relative comfort. One benefit of this is the ability to appreciate the surrounding countryside more, sit back and enjoy the experience rather than concentrate solely on the road. I like the idea of buying a small bike once clear of China, a throwaway machine to take me round Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos. Whether this works out is yet to be seen, only time will tell. (Photo: More than a little personal space - Gobi Desert, Mongolia)

My main concern at the moment is to keep on a positive footing, by reserves are low. I don't feel too much of a failure, but neither do I fully appreciate the effort of making it this far. Spending two weeks in the capital has been awful, it's ground me down, I hate cities and begrudge having to spend time in them.Ulaan Baatar is no exception, it sucks! For days now I've hardly gone into the streets at all, it wears me out too quick, and I don't mean physically. But if I can't handle it here how will I cope with Beijing? Probably by spending as little time there as possible, There are so many cities in China my only hope it to find ways of avoiding them, hence the use of local buses. I have a nagging feeling that it will be a bit of an endurance test. There are friends to visit though, in Urumqui, so I will have a break from solitude. Really the only way to find out how suited I am the place is get there and see for myself. So many people say how difficult dealing with Chinese people can be, how harsh their culture. I guess I'll see for myself real soon. (Photo: Long and winding road - Gobi Desert, Mongolia)

Paperwork overload.

On the eve of our final attempt to placate the Russian officials we felt excited and dubious, all in the same breath. It was to be make or break. A word of warning sent to Konrad complicated the issue, was my passport stamped as having a bike in my possession, would it create a problem to leave the country without it. And sure enough there it was, an inoffensive, barely noticeable, stamp with 'MOTO' scrawled on the dotted line. Shit, we'd supposedly covered all bases! Already stating categorically that monday was the final day of reckoning, I nearly gave up hope. But no, my comrade was persistent, we can do this he insisted, we've done so much already. I had to agree, mainly due to the fact I refuse to be beat by petty minded officials. So despite drinking a hearty goodbye on sunday night to our Japanese friend Tack, who shares our Ger, an early start was planned. Bugger me if we didn't manage to get away by 9.30 am, but it was due to be a long drawn out process. The powers that be enjoy making life as difficult as possible, well at least the Russians do, boy are they arrogant in the extreme, at least the embassy staff. (Photo: Re-installing the front wheel - Gana's Guesthouse, Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia)

The process had been dictated by the visa clerk last Monday, we must obtain a stamp from the Notary at the Mongolian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, then another from the Notary of the Russian Embassy, and then Konrad could make his application for a transit visa, giving him only ten days to cross Russia. Fair enough, it isn't a long time, but I made it in 14 days, and took three days rest on the way. He's 17 years younger than me, and German to boot, so he should manage this with ease; he's riding a BMW for god's sake! Anyway, we arrive at the Ministry before ten o'clock to be first in line, only to find we're fourth in line. However, the Mongolian officials actually try to be helpful, rather than making us wait until the afternoon they'd make an exception, we only had to wait 30 minutes, in the mean time we could make the appropriate payment at the Bank opposite. Or we could have done if the cashier had not insisted we go to a different bank, which one we needed was unclear. From her flippant gesture I assumed it was very close, though there was no sign. It turned out it was the right bank, though why she had said it wasn't possible is a mystery. On our return another cashier took the payment without any problem at all. Let's face it, we were the problem, our inability to communicate effectively in Mongolian. I can only assume the teller failed to understand our request so dismissed us out of hand. (Photo: Like long lost friends - Gana's Guesthouse, Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia)

News from Foreign Affairs wasn't good regarding my exit without the bike, it's illegal was repeated again and again. However insistent the response was the same, but they did give me a phone number, who for I had no idea. The immediate need was to procure the stamp of the Russian embassy notary, having the stamp from the Mongolians made this quick and easy to get as well; things were definitely looking better, but I was still worried about exiting the country. Phoning the mystery number got us an invitation to visit their office, but not who they were, I had to get a waitress to write down the address. It turned out to be the Border control office, at which point I felt hope for the first time. Time was getting tight, Konrad had to hand in his application for a visa into the Russian embassy at 2 pm, we had to get to the Border Control office before three. It didn't help when a different clerk sat behind the visa desk, and he wanted to make us sweat. In short he was a complete arse, a little person with enough power to make our life difficult. I don't understand it, why do they put this type of person in such positions? I hate to say it, but it's probably because the Russian government want to make life hard for visitors. Considering the behaviour of American and British Immigration officials, it isn't really a unique situation is it? Time was running out fast, city traffic was gridlocked and we had to reach the other side of the city. (Photo: Raring to go - Konrade, Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia)

We done it by the skin of our teeth, and it was worth the effort. "This is no problem," they informed us, " we will enter this on the computer". But of course there was still customs to consider! Shit, would it never end? Another dash, back across the city, another office, more officials. Yet again the Mongolian officials made it all plain sailing. Once establishing that the bike would leave the country two days before me, there wasn't a problem. A clearance officer gave us her phone number, once Konrad clears customs at the border with Russia she'll clear the bike from the computer leaving me free to leave the country at the Chinese border. And it was as simple as that, we achieved more through various Mongolian offices in one day than we had done in ten days with the Russian embassy. Every one was understanding, helpful and willing to ease our path through the bureaucracy. We were jubilant, high fiving each other and laughing all the way to the pub. We'd done it, we'd arranged everything for Konrad to ride my bike back to Europe. I'd pick it up whenever returning home, probably flying to Germany and riding home from there. (Photo: Konrad on his first ride - Gana's Guesthouse, Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia)

But if I thought that was it I was sorely mistaken! Watching Konrad packing his stuff into my luggage proved hard to watch, reassurances that he'd take care with my stuff, didn't improve my subdued mood. I found it hard to, kept wandering what the hell am I doing, doubting the wisdom of the arrangement. Not for one minute was it a lack of trust, I've every confidence the bike will be ridden to Germany and will be there waiting for me when I want it again. I can't put my finger on it exactly, but I feel weird about it, it's made me withdraw into myself, and it shows. I don't want to lessen his excitement, but there's little I can do. We've had a great couple of weeks since we met and I don't want to throw a downer on it, not at this late stage. The decision has been made, the hard work done, I'm just on a general downer. (Photo: Getting his first tattoo - Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia)