Day 243: Look before you eat

We passed into a new climatic zone last night. It's significantly wetter here, and instead of wheat, everyone's growing rice. The landscape is also a lot hillier, and many of the hills are covered in lush, green vegetation, including a lot of bamboo, and are often cloaked in mist. In among the stands of bamboo, we can see ornate little graves, many surrounded by offerings of various sorts. The architecture appears to be pretty much purely functional. The buildings are mostly concrete boxes, at most two or three storeys tall, painted white or grey and festooned with washing. There are little nods to tradition on the roofs, with the traditional crescent-shaped tiles and ornate little tile-topped walls extending from the front and rear. 

The train arrived at Huangshan station earlier than we expected, so we had a bit of a mad, panicky scramble to get everything packed up. Thankfully, the train terminated here, so we didn't have to worry about missing the station. When we left the air-conditioned train we were enveloped in a miasma of warm, moist air. Entering the car park, we were instantly surrounded by a small crowd of hawkers and touts - old women trying to sell us maps, younger ones trying to sell and tours and the inevitable 'very helpful' taxi drivers: 'Where you want to go?' We eventually chose a driver and made the short drive into town. When he stopped, he made a call and handed his phone to me. On the other end of the line was a woman who spoke English. At first I assumed it was someone from the hotel, but she explained that the driver wanted to know if we wanted to book his services for a tour of some sort. Indeed, she, too, was a taxi driver, and she would also be happy to show us around... I politely declined, paid the driver and we grabbed our bags. The driver indicated where we should walk, we shouldered our loads and headed off.

Out hotel was conveniently located at the end of Huangshan's Old Street, but we quickly discovered that it was inconveniently located at the other end of Huangshan's very long Old Street. Like Pingyao, the street has some lovely old building on it, but also like Pingyao, they're now being used to sell a relatively limited selection of souvenirs and local delicacies. However, it was pedestrianised and bustling and aesthetically pleasing, so we were happy enough.

When we finally made it to the hotel, we checked in to our triple room. Thanks to the one-child policy, family rooms typically come with only three beds, so quite often the girls are forced to share a bed. Luckily, the beds are usually a bit larger than a typical single, so this hasn't really been a problem. Once we had settled in, we headed back out to see what we could find for lunch. Huangshan (which used to be called Tunxi) is located at the confluence of two (or maybe three) rivers, and our hotel is located very close to a bridge across one of them. After taking a quick look, we walked down Old Street, but it didn't seem to have any restaurants on it, so we walked its entire length, back to the little square where the taxi had dropped us off. There we found a side street with a number of restaurants on it - restaurants that also resembled pet shops. Outside of each of them was a collection of buckets and cages containing a wide variety of live animals, including frogs, turtles, fish, pheasants, guinea pigs, eels and so on, none of which were destined to be pets of course... 

We eventually chose a restaurant and started trying to make sense of the menu (although there was at least one dish we certainly wouldn't be ordering). We obviously failed, because when we tried to order, it seemed to cause great confusion among the staff. Eventually, they pointed us to a selection of pre-cooked dishes on a table beside the wall and we were urged to just chose from among them. This we duly did (some very nice braised pork spare ribs), supplementing it with some noodles and rice. After lunch we had a bit of a wander around town, passing a number of establishments filled with oldies playing mah jongg.

Back in the room, I had a bit of a nap while Kate planned our activities for the next few days. Then we went back out for dinner. This time we had consulted TripAdvisor and settled on a great big place located right at the other end of Old Street. When we got there, we were handed a little bamboo chit with a number on it and ushered down a few stairs to where the open kitchen is located. There we were given a special notepad and a pen. Running the length of the restaurant, the kitchens are separated from the diners by a long bar, on which are arranged all of the available dishes. A helpful diner explained the way it all works: first, you choose your dishes and write the corresponding numbers on the notepad, along with your chosen quantities and your chit (table) number; then, you hand it to the waiting waitress and go back to your table to await the arrival of your freshly cooked food. What fun! Of course, we over-ordered (how could you not?) and ended up with a few things that weren't really to our taste (naturally, this is China after all), but the food was delicious and extremely cheap and we vowed to return again tomorrow night.

Day 242: Back on tracks, part 7

In the morning we walked up to Holiland for breakfast and then to the post office. As we've well and truly switched climatic zones now, we won't be needing our hats and scarves and the like, so we posted them all home. Thankfully, the woman helping with the sending of packages was incredibly helpful – and even spoke a bit of English. While we got ourselves sorted out, we watched with fascination as the people around us posted off huge collections of stuff in great big sacks. When we got to the final payment stage, Kate and the girls left me in the queue and went back to our fantastic supermarket to start choosing what we needed for tonight's train ride to Huangshan. As I waited, I heard a mysterious loud, explosive sound coming at regular intervals from somewhere nearby. After I had paid, I, too, headed for the supermarket and on the way there, I discovered the source of the sound – there was an old guy standing outside the metro station cracking a huge bullwhip. Of course.

In the supermarket we bought some pot noodles, wine, Coke and snacks for the train and then went back to Holiland to get some stuff for tomorrow's breakfast. Then it was back to the room for a quick shower (it was already very hot and humid) and to finish packing, then we checked out and hopped back on the metro to Beijing West station. This time, the waiting room was really rammed so we set ourselves up in an empty space next to one of the walls. Kate and the girls went off to get some McDonald's for lunch while I sat with the bags and watched the hawkers walking around selling little collapsible stools and strange toy fish that lit up, drove around the floor and sang.

Soon enough we were on the train and in our compartment. The beds were made, the air conditioning was on and all was well in the world. Well, almost. In the cabin next door was a woman with a small child, for which she had bought one of those singing fish... We were soon celebrating, however, as Sarah finished the first of her workbooks. Poor old Kate has been carrying these books, which are surprisingly heavy - in her pack since we left the UK, so she was particularly pleased about Sarah's achievement.

The train took us through lots of wheat fields, where lots of people appeared to spraying lots of pesticides on the crops. And as the big orange sun sank towards the horizon, we dined on pot noodles and a rather nicer bottle of Chinese red wine than the last one we had – indeed, I would say that it was a pretty pleasant drop. We had a bit of a laugh as we ate – whenever we choose our pot noodles Kate spends significantly more effort than the rest of us trying to ensure that there's no chilli in hers (poring over the ingredients, peering at the pictures on the outside and even asking the supermarket staff). It's not that she particularly dislikes chilli, but when these Asian pot noodles are hot, they can be inedibly hot to our sensitive palates. But somehow, despite all of her efforts, she always seems to end up with a hot one – and tonight was no exception.

Day 241: A weasel by the window

Our taxi came at 7.30am this morning to take us to the station for the trip back to Beijing. Unfortunately, when we got to there, we realised that we had left Zoe's hat atop one of the stone lions at the gate to our hotel (if you look closely at the photo below you can see it there). 

The train arrived right on time at 8.43am. There were quite a few people getting on and we spent some time in a big crush at the entrance to our carriage trying to get to our seats. They were right at the far end, but thankfully we had a four-set row to ourselves. Oddly, there were clearly a number of people who had been able to buy tickets without assigned seats, and they spent the whole of the four-hour journey standing in the vestibule. 

We arrived in Beijing just before 1pm and caught the metro to the hotel. Walking to the hotel was hot work – the temperature was somewhere around 35C – but at least we knew where we were going this time and the streets are well shaded. We had planned to use the afternoon to go to the so-called Dirt Market – a big antique/flea market – in the hope that we could buy some clothing/hats/etc, but when we did a quick online search, it became clear that it really was an antique market and as we weren't in the market for a big stone lion, we changed our minds. Instead, we walked up the road to an ATM to cash ourselves up again, visited good old Holiland for an air-conditioned coffee and some pastries and then hung out in the hotel. I stayed in the room while Kate and the girls went downstairs to the hostel's very pleasant communal area. After a while, Sarah excitedly knocked on the door – Kate had seen some sort of small mammal climbing around in the climbing plants that blanketed the windows in the communal area. Sadly, it was gone by the time I got down there, but we checked online and discovered that it was a so-called hutong weasel. Actually the Siberian weasel, these small mammals (they grow to a length of about 40 centimetres) are well known among hutong dwellers. In Chinese, they're called huang shu lang – literally ‘yellow mouse wolf’ and their fur is sometimes used to make paintbrushes.

In the evening we returned to our favourite restaurant, where we dined on pepper beef, pork spare ribs, stir-fried veges and sausage fried rice. 

Hidden worlds

Unsurprisingly, Pingyao gave me plenty of opportunities to feed my fetish for photographing doors and doorways. Some of you will also have noticed that I have a bit of a thing for narrow alleys, and there were plenty of those around, too. But I also discovered a new object of fascination – the courtyards – and the various vestibules, archways and other portals that lead into them – that lie off Pingyao's roads. I try to be sensitive when photographing these mysterious little hidden worlds – if there are people visible, I generally won't take a photo, as painful as this often is – but there's still no shortage of scenes to capture. 

 

Day 240: A walk atop the walls

This morning we treated ourselves to breakfast at Petit Resto – omelettes, apple and chocolate pancakes and some jasmine tea. Our museum tickets were valid for one more day, so after breakfast we walked down the road and used them to visit a large Taoist temple complex. First, however, we stopped to watch a slightly odd parade go by. Made up of about 20 or so people in traditional outfits, it was headed by a sloppily dressed guy smoking a cigarette and featured some guys on donkeys and some women being carried in palanquins, and was followed by groups of tourists in open-topped  vehicles.

When we made our way through the front gate into the temple, we found a path beside which was arranged a series of water fountains representing the signs of the Chinese zodiac – so of course we had to stand for photos with our different signs. Inside was a big fountain into which people had thrown loads of coins. The girls have become addicted to doing the same, and as China has some coins with extremely low denominations, I often give them a couple to throw in. In this particular fountain there were some small pots, and they both had a go at trying to throw their coins into them. Sarah missed, so Zoe took her turn. As she prepared to throw, the odd angle at which she was holding her arm prompted both Kate and I think that she would miss by a mile, but lo and behold, her throw went straight in without touching the sides. Hence the raised arms in the photo below.

Our next stop was a Confucian temple complex across the road, which was first built in the seventh century, but had been destroyed, restored and significantly expanded since then. Unlike the Taoist temple across the road, which was a bit gaudy and filled with lurid statues of various gods and demons, it was pleasantly austere, with a lovely water feature running through the centre.

We walked all the way through to an exit on the other side, which opened onto a hot and dusty road almost adjacent to the city's south wall. We had one last 'museum' to visit: the residence of a local notable – the founder of a bank, I think. We then walked out one of the smaller gates and around the outside of the walls to the West Gate, where we had lunch at our noodle guy's stall. Afterwards, we went back to the hairdressers where Zoe and Sarah had had their trims and Kate and I got our hair cut – also for a crazy 20 yuan (£2) each. We then stopped off at a supermarket to get some stuff for tomorrow's train ride back to Beijing - little packets for breakfast, drinks and pot noodles – along with a couple of t-shirts for the girls. We also picked up another duck for dinner.

Our museum tickets also gave us access to top of the city walls, so later in the afternoon, when it was a bit cooler, we walked over to the North Gate and climbed the stairs up to the top. Our plan had been to walk the whole circuit – about six kilometres in total, but when we got to the top I noticed what appeared to be a barrier erected across the walkway about 100 metres away from the stairs. Sure enough, it was closed off for 'repairs', so we headed in the other direction to see how far we could get. Although the area around the stairs was fairly busy with Chinese tourists, once we started walking we had the wall pretty much to ourselves. 

We hadn't been walking for long when Kate excitedly called me over to 'battlements' on the outside of the wall. Now, one of my few disappointments about leaving Europe was that we had never seen a hoopoe, an odd-looking bird with a long thin bill and a distinctive 'crown' of feathers on the top of its head. It's found across Afro-Eurasia and I had always been on the lookout for one when we travelled but had never been lucky enough to come across one. I looked where Kate was pointing and – yes! - there, poking around on the grass at the base of the wall, was a hoopoe! Ambition achieved.

Built during the 14^th century, the walls are about 12 metres high and feature 72 watchtowers, as well as the larger towers atop the gates. From such a high vantage point we had a great view of the city, allowing us to peer into courtyards and generally get a better idea of how people live in the 'real' Pingyao. We saw people squatting in abandoned buildings (living in them, rather than crouching down in them) and others living in buildings where walls had completely collapsed. 

We walked all the way around to a gate in the south wall, where our progress was halted by another barrier and we were forced to climb back down. Back at ground level we walked together for bit and then split up – the girls went off for another foot massage while I explored some of the back streets. As I was walking, a van painted in camouflage colours drove past me. At first I assumed that it was some sort of army vehicle, but peering through the tinted windscreen, the guys inside looked like civilians. Later, the same van passed me going the other way. Not long after that, I turned a corner and came across the van parked by the side of the road with its passengers arrayed around its rear – policemen dressed head to toe in black with bullet-proof vests on and, in a few cases, armed with pump-action shotguns. They all seemed very relaxed and jolly but I didn't wait around to see what they were up to.

When the others got back with their thoroughly pampered feet (apparently the women in the massage place had been slightly horrified by the state of Sarah's), I got some fried bread and pancake and we had our customary dinner in the courtyard.