Eastern China (Part 2)

May 2003

Back at Beijing, around 9.30am, it was pouring with rain; rather refreshing after Mongolia. The Airport was almost deserted and I had to wait nearly an hour for my shuttle bus to fill to take me downtown to the Central Railway Station. This wasn't as deserted as I thought it would be, but it was pretty empty. There were no lines at the ticket windows, so I had time to use my basic Chinese and get a railway ticket at local price, rather than going through the "Tourist Ticket Agency" at the station. From the time of leaving the Beijing airport to leaving China two weeks later, I only saw westerners in Shanghai. The rest of the country was deserted and the Chinese tourist industry had died a SARS death.

I had booked a hard sleeper bed on the 4.30pm train, an overnight trip south to Nanjing. With lots of spare time, I walked into a suburb to a supermarket and filled up with goodies for the trip. Noone gave me a second glance and the face mask numbers had declined since I had left a fortnight before. The latest SARS stats were in today's "China Daily" which stated that Beijing now had suspected/confirmed over 2000 suspected/confirmed cases (only 37 when I had first arrived), out of China's 4805. It also said that more than 100 countries had taken measures to restrict people arriving from China, which sounded very ominous for my plans.

Entering Beijing Train Station proper, they had temperature scanners set up. You stood for 2 seconds while a machine zapped your temp. It was the start of an endless ordeal for me. Entering any train/bus station/during the trips themselves/and many hotels, I had my temperature taken at regular intervals (up to 10 times a day) and filled in a mind numbing variety of Chinese language only, useless, paper chasing pile of health forms. By pointing this out now, I don't have to repeat it for the 60 plus times it happened to me over the next fortnight!

Essentially, the Chinese Government had recommended that people did not travel. Many had fled back to their hometowns after I left for Mongolia. It was a bit of a shock to find only 6 people in my entire sealed carriage and that I had 6 beds in my own compartment to myself. What a great time to travel in China! I settled in with a comfy eiderdown, and on a blissfully quiet, smooth journey, I slept all night, completely undisturbed. In the morning it was just farmland scenery until we arrived at 9.30am.

Nanjing (4.5m pop) is an enormous city, rapidly developing with lots of construction going on. It lies on the southern bank of the Yangzi River and reminded me of Kumming and Chengdu from 2001. In the 14th Century, it was briefly the capital of China during the Ming Dynasty. Huge walls were erected around the city, 33km in length; apparently, the largest city wall ever built in the world. About two thirds of the wall still remains and I caught glimpses of it as a local bus took me downtown. It's other claim to fame was in 1937 during the "Rape of Nanjing", the site of the worst war atrocities in China by the invading Japanese. They killed up to 300,000 people here. The city has a memorial with old footage of the event that I wanted to visit.

However, my attempts to stay at two University dormitories was thwarted (closed due to SARS). People in facemasks eyed me suspiciously and after a couple of hours trawling around in the humidity, I got the impression that noone wanted me to stay. So I didn't. At the bus station I filled in my first Health form as "Hugh G. Rection" which became my standard response. Noone could read English anyway. An express bus took me south east to Suzhou, where the hotels were geared up for tourist prices, but I walked around and haggled hard. Later on, as I wrote my diary and researched, there was a knock at the door. An attractive Chinese girl asked "Massage?" No thanks, I'd rather drink beer and read. I had been travelling non stop for 37 hours.

Suzhou (600,000 pop) is the province of Jiangsu's most famous attraction (though in retrospect, I don't feel that it deserves the honour). It is apparently "a famed silk production area and celebrated retreat brimming with gardens and canals" (LP). In reality, it was brimming with half its roads dug up and an endless parade of construction sites with very little happening. Originally, one of the oldest towns in the Yangzi basin, the completion of the "Grand Canal" in the 12th (?) Century, ensured it's strategic location on a major trading route and its fortune grew. By the 14th Century, surrounded by city walls and criss crossed by canals, it was China's leading silk producer and 200 years later, it had 100 gardens and was calling itself the "Garden City" and "Venice of the East". Most of the gardens and canals have disappeared but the tourist board still sells the "Venice" tag.

I had intended on a full days walking tour of Suzhou, but as soon as I left the hotel the following morning, it started to bucket down with rain and kept it up all day. Absolutely miserable. I checked out the Pan Gate in the SW, the only surviving gate of the original city wall. The area was a knee deep muddy construction site and I thought the old tourist map of "17 scenic sights around the Pan Gate" must have firstly been, very old and secondly, taking the piss. Most of the city walls, built around the rivers and canals, have disappeared.

There were a couple of pagodas, the one at the North Temple was a 17th Century, 9 story wooden affair, the tallest south of the Yangzi River. The city seemed to have two halves. The Eastern side was brand new, westernised shopping malls while the western side was the old scruffy Chinese town, tucked into muddy alleys by narrow canals. Tiny rows of tatty stalls selling everything under the, er, rain. In between, the two areas, every road had been dug up. Why not dig up one at a time, rather than half the city? I don't know about "Venice", but they got the water bit right. After four hours of squelching around mud and puddles, even I abandoned the day. I think it stopped raining at 5am the following morning. The worst thing was that the Chinese Government in their infinite wisdom had ordered that every internet cafe in the country to be closed down (because of the risk of SARS), so I couldn't even hole up in one of those. Personally, I think it was just an excuse for the Government so they could close down unregulated international communications. Paranoid? Me?

Still overcast and very humid the following morning, I went to explore the famous "gardens". "Suzhou's gardens are looked upon as works of art; a fusion of nature, architecture, poetry and painting designed to ease, move or assist the mind" (LP). Like the Zen gardens of Japan, the key elements are rocks and water. But they were rather unspectacular after seeing the Zen Gardens in Kyoto. There are half a dozen gardens you can visit.

"The Garden of the Master of the Nets" is the smallest garden in Suzhou, but apparently "better than all the others combined" (LP). I arrived as it opened at 8am and had the place to myself . It was very silent and very tranquil behind tall brick walls away from the roadworks. Laid out in the 12th Century and restored in the 18th, as part of a retired official's residence, it was a maze of furnished open rooms (guest reception, living quarters) with beautifully carved window frames looking out on small patios of trees and bamboo. There was a Main Garden, dominated by an enclosed pond and Inner Garden. I pottered around, as Chinese women dusted down the rooms. I suppose in the summer in good weather with water lilies, it must look lovely. On an overcast dreary day, it looked, well, dreary.

The Humble Administrator's Garden is now the Chinese tourist board's favourite and was charging 3 x the entrance price of the others (nothing humble about that). I passed on it and opted for the Lion Grove Garden down the road. Constructed in 1350, it had both another series of open rooms in addition to a wonderful maze of rockeries to explore; tunnels, platforms and a waterfall surrounding a pond. The large grey rocks supposedly looked like lions (yeah, right). It was like a 3 D garden; you could climb to different levels to get different views around the compound. Despite the rain which had started again, I thought this was better than the first one I had visited. It was just different from any other garden I'd visited. There was not much point visiting any more gardens in the rain and I felt that two were representative enough.

So I got out of Suzhou and hopped on a bus to Shanghai, 90 minutes away. My seatmate, Tony was a fluent English speaker who managed an agency for English teachers in Beijing. The schools had been closed down for a 3 weeks and he had returned to Suzhou, his hometown to see his parents and relatives. Not that they wanted to see him. Since, he had arrived from SARS ridden Beijing, they refused to let him in their houses! He was very interested in offering me a teaching position in Beijing.

On the outskirts of Shanghai, just off the expressway, we were all ordered off the bus and paraded like prisoners through a SARS checkpoint that was checking the temp of everyone in a car and bus entering the city. There was a long line of waiting cars and gaggles of white clad, head to foot, medical staff. Officials barked at me in Chinese, when I presented my form with just Hugh. G. Rection on it. They couldn't speak English or explain the information needed and then gave up and waved me through. So much for accurate records.

Since my old 1996 Guidebook, Shanghai's metro system had expanded with a second line and I found a new station by chance near the northern bus station. 15p or 25p fares got you anywhere across the city. Surprisingly, there were few English signs and most of the routes were in Chinese. There was a large sign on the other side of the track that said "Danger. Do not jump into the tunnel". Only in China, do you have to be told not to throw yourself in front of a train. Still, it was new, cheap and efficient system.

From Renmin (People') Square in the centre, I found the road my hostel was on and walked down it. An old western man saw me and commented "You look like a mule carrying that pack". He introduced himself as George, said he had a couple of hours to spare before his plane left for Beijing and invited me for a beer. Formerly from New Zealand, he had settled in Cheltenham, England (small world; I had lived near there before my travels started in 1999), had been a financial lawyer until he retired at 60, 10 years ago. He got bored and had been living in Beijing for 8 years with a job testing Chinese on their English through a UK Govt service. He had a 37 year old Chinese wife, who was studying in Chicago. Before she had left, she had arranged for a Chinese mistress to look after him in Beijing in her absence. Not bad for a 70 year old (note to dad; there is hope for you yet!). He was an interesting man, with lots of tales and he even told me how, via the internet, I could change my name, get a new passport in that name and still keep the old one, through a legal loophole, thereby still keeping my original name too.

I checked into the Captain's Hostel. The dorm accommodation had been closed and they were charging a shocking £16 a night (haggled down by a third) but they had a guaranteed market. Every dormitory in China had been closed and they were the only place accepting Western backpackers in Shanghai. Still, it was a lovely luxurious room and very comfortable. Before I was admitted, they stuck a thermometer under my armpit for a reading. This happened every morning. Everytime you left the hotel and returned, you had to fill out a form saying where you had been. I'd write stuff like "lunch in Hong Kong", "drinks in Taipei" (the other SARS hotspots). Shanghai seemed rather paranoid about SARS. They had only had one case. Very few people in Shanghai bothered with face masks, but it was as if they trusted noone from out of town.

Shanghai (meaning "By the Sea"; I never saw the sea) with a core population of 7.5m in an area of 220 sq km, has one of the highest population densities in China. "Whore of the east, Paris of China and Queen of the Orient; city of quick riches, ill gotten gains, the domains of adventurers, swindlers, gamblers, drug runners, idle rich, tycoons, missionaries, gangsters and backstreet pimps" (LP). Sounded like my kinda town and I explored it extensively over the next two days.

As a gateway to the Yangze River, it was the ideal trading port. The British (but who else!) got hold of it in 1842 after the First Opium War and set up their Opium trading here. By 1853, it had overtaken all other Chinese ports and by 1900 had a population of 1 million people. Built on the trade of opium, silk and tea, it lured the world's great financial institutions and the city became a byword for exploitation and vice. The British, French and Japan held this Special Economic Zone under control, and it became the single biggest foreign investment centre in the world. Then the Communists tool over in 1949, and it all went to shit. They shut down the capitalist running pig dog city for 40 years. Since 1990, it has reawakened and is evolving at a pace unmatched by any other Chinese City. Shanghai is large enough to be its own municipality, rather than part of a province.

It wants to replace Hong Kong as China's most important commercial entity and become China's frontier to the future. As such, it has returned to being a major financial centre and economic powerhouse and is China's new bully on the block. Massive expressway projects crisscross the city through the eradicated slums and brand spanking new skyscrapers are going up all over the place (including the next tallest building in the world; currently on hold). The Chinese have a saying "If the old doesn't go, the new won't come". It is Shanghai's motto. It is divided into two halves on either side of the Huangpu River; Puxi (West) and brand new Pudong (East)

Old Shanghai was right on my doorstep 2 minutes away. The "Bund" is Shanghai's symbol; a vagabond assortment of neo classical 1930's downtown New York styles with a pompous touch of monumental antiquity thrown in. It is Shanghai's original "Wall Street" and where the remains of the financial institutions still operate. It is the photo shot of Shanghai whenever you see it on the news; a curving boulevard by the river with all those stately grey buildings and clock towers.

I popped into the lobby of the Shanghai Pudong Deu Bank, full of marble floors and pillars and an atrium mosaic dome picturing the former worldwide financial centres (New York, Tokyo, Bangkok, Calcutta etc). Outside the reception were a list of rules; 1. No entry allowed to anyone in slippery dress". 8. Talking aloud, laughing aloud or making noise in the hall are forbidden" (sounds like a fun place to work).

The Peace Hotel (formerly Cathay Hotel, two buildings from 1906/1929) stood nearby. Like the Taj in Bombay, Raffles in Singapore, and Peninsula in Hong Kong (all ticked off on my hotels to see around the world), this was the place to stay in Shanghai and a reminder of the great wealth made off opium. They had suites named after various countries; China, Britain, American, French, Italian, Japanese, Indian etc, all elegantly decorated and carefully preserved in their original styles from the 1930s. The Grand Lobby, wasn't so Grand, but did have good evidence of Oriental art deco. Riff raff like me didn't see the theme rooms or the old Dining Hall. But then I wasn't paying $120 for a single room (plus 15% tax).

At Renmin (Peoples) Square, stood the stunning 1994 Shanghai Museum, China's attempt to build a decent museum for the 21st Century. The round building with a glass dome over the atrium is supposed to represent an ancient Chinese "ding" vessel. (whatever one of those was). Its shape and structure would not have looked out of place amongst the Smithsonian Museums in Washington DC. The four floors of exhibits were superbly presented in specific galleries (which had free English leaflets for each one). There was an amazing collection of Ethnic minority costumes, a superb jade collection, beautiful Ming and Qing furniture, Chinese paintings, calligraphy, seals and coins, an entire floor set aside for ceramics and porcelain and finally ancient Chinese bronzes and sculptures. It was a very spacious place with everything labelled in English. In the painting galleries, the lights would come on over the paintings as you walked past. It was virtually empty save for a few bored, yawning security guards. Definitely the best museum in China and a reminder of how much they gave the world (along with SARS). I spent two hours there, but if you are mad on Chinese artefacts, a day could pass easily and all for £1.50. Superb.

Around the Square were other new buildings; a space age Grand Theatre complex with an strange arched concrete roof, an Exhibition Centre with four upside down pyramids on the roof and a stack of new buildings that didn't exist in my guidebook.

I hopped on a 10p short ferry trip to cross the river to Pudong. The ferry was full of cyclists and mopeds. Pudong is a brand new area of development since 1990, replacing 350sq km of boggy farmlands. It appears to be a rather unsubtle version of the Tokyo Bay Area, as companies fight to outdo each other in the construction of architectural wonders. It was dominated by the Oriental Pearl Tower, the (3rd?) tallest telecommunication tower in the world. There were three, ever decreasing in size, large red glass bubble observation decks, each a third of the way up. The whole thing was supported at the base by 4 vast ugly concrete poles. It looked like a strange space station, tilted on its side. On an overcast day (it was always overcast during my visit), the 8 English Pound ticket to the top seemed a waste of time.

I skipped it and headed for the brand new Hyatt Hotel which was a really impressive towering grid of steel and glass. The 88th Observation Floor had been closed (because of SARS) so I caught (after a SARS test), a lift to the Hyatt lobby on the 52nd floor. Although I was dressed in shorts/t shirt and sneakers (no socks), the friendly receptionist told me to go to the just getting ready restaurant 2 floors above to take in the views. I was allowed to wander around, as chefs prepared food, and peer down over the river and surrounding areas. Judging by the smell of the food here, along with the fine views, this seemed to be one place to splash out for a decent night out in China. The Shanghai International Exhibition Centre was another strange building with a facade of stone columns a huge glass globe at either side with the green outline of continents over them. You could see them from across the river.

I checked out the "Brand New Store", a futuristic shopping mall of 8 stories with brilliant architecture, sweeping, swooping levels that you could have skateboarded around. Inside, was the Pudong Tourist Information Centre. I asked about the Airport shuttle bus route to Pudong Airport from downtown. They didn't know "But we have a number you can call". Excuse me? I thought you were the information centre. You call them for me. Chinese traditional service. We don't know. You sort it out yourself. So they called. I mean, it was in their interest too. I asked about any internet places. They suggested the 5 star hotels. I had a dig at Shanghai. "Shanghai is supposed to be the new space age city of China and you don't have internet here yet. Hong Kong has free internet in the shopping malls. Hell, even Lhasa, Tibet has internet cafes". "Well, you could try the Shangri La Hotel next door". So I did.

After a SARS test in reception, I asked for internet and was told to go to the Business Centre on the second floor. A bored girl sat at a PC playing games. 'Internet?" I asked and took over the PC. After 30 minutes, I got up to go. "What room number are you?" Eh? I'm not staying here. "The bill is 90 Yuan, 3 Yuan a minute (£7 ;a new record!). I don't have any money with me, I thought it was free, reception sent me up. "They did?" (this was not a lie. Noone had mentioned a price). "Oh. Never mind", Yeess! Finally a result in China! It made my day. It was the only internet I'd see until Bangkok. They are already plugging the Shanghai Expo in 2010. One hopes that they have new technology by then. That night the Chinese TV news in English, said that China now had 5100 SARS cases. I was still not one of them.

Shanghai rush hour is horrible. Armies of cyclists and motorbike riders ignore the traffic lights and pedestrian crossings in a bid to keep moving. Little men stand on corners with flags all day, blowing whistles at traffic and pedestrians trying to keep them in line, mostly unsuccessfully. The traffic comes at you from every angle and even along the pavements. I was delighted to watch taxis crash into each other and one guy in tears as a policeman booked him. To walk around downtown Shanghai you have to keep turning your head in circles just to avoid getting knocked over. The people push past or offer "Rolex watches mister". Modern city life I suppose, but it took it a little getting used to. Because of SARS, the acrobatic shows and theatres had all been closed which made for a rather dull nightlife.

The old French Territory in the west, is now the new westernised shopping centre of Shanghai. It could have been Singapore. Around 8am one morning, I entered a small peaceful park, tucked in between tower blocks. It was full of hundreds of Chinese people doing their morning exercises; a group did movements in slow motion with swords, another group used scarves and the majority, surrounding the lake did slow motion aerobics. It was nice to see some real Chinese life inbetween all the sterialised western malls. I had caught a bus here to come and buy a plane ticket.

I had heard that Taiwan, now one of the worst SARS areas itself, was either banning or quarantining any traveller coming in. It didn't make sense to try and get there and then get locked up indefinitely. So I abandoned the idea of heading for Hong Kong and decided to cut my losses and fly to Bangkok direct from Shanghai. China Eastern Airlines had the cheapest fare by far. I quickly put together the rest of my Chinese itinerary and booked a flight for 10 days time.

Chinese TV. In Shanghai, I noticed that the TV was full of SARS commercials; stirring military music, medical staff looking brow beaten but happy, high officials visiting hospitals and shaking the head to foot, covered in cotton, rubber gloved hands of the medical staff, waving of Chinese flags, all is well etc. The message seemed to be "We are winning the war. We have assumed control. Do not panic". On the English language CCTV channel, there would be little items of how to ensure your facemask became a fashion accessory as well as a safety precaution. There was a Chinese "SARS charity song"; a sort of a "Do They Know Its Xmas?" array of nobody Chinese pop stars all doing their bit for the cause. But there was a lot of bad news too; Train passenger figures in China in May were down 70% on last year. Shanghai's restaurant trade was down 80% (and they didn't even have a SARS problem like Beijing). The Annual Shanghai Business Fair was cancelled and put "on line" (so you could visit the companies homepages without having to attend in person; all very well, but where were the internet cafes to access it?). I saw an article on the "first SARS crime". 3 weeks previously, 100km SW of Beijing, 10 suspected SARS cases had been quarantined in a hotel. 200 local villagers turned up, asking for them to be removed from the area and when the authorities refused, they tried to burn the hotel to the ground. 6 people were jailed from 1 to 5 years on charges of "disrupting social order, arson and public disturbance".

Able to leave most of my gear at the hostel, I was lightened considerably and just took the basics. After my SARS test at both the hotel and the bus station, I caught a bus 3 hours SW to Hangzhou along the expressway and through the unspectacular flat featureless farmlands and rivers of the province of Zhejiang. It is one of the smallest but traditionally one of the most prosperous. It has a dense network of waterways, canals and irrigation channels and as "the land of silk" it produces one third of China's silk and a lot of its tea.

I arrived at the Hungzhou's Eastern bus station and started hunting for a Chinese hotel. The first one turned me away point blank. The second one showed me a room, but as I stood in the reception, an old man passed and started ranting and told them not to let me stay. I played devil's advocate and asked why, though noone could speak English. By the time I left, there were 15 people on the pavement outside, watching the westerner refuse to move until someone explained why they would show me a room, if they didn't want me to stay. The old dual policy against foreigners still exists in China where they try and keep you out of cheaper hotels. I remember when Jo and I reached Chengdu in 2001. Ten hotels turned us away. We were forced to stay at the only westerners hotel with half the standard for double the price. I really hate the Chinese when this happens. I left the hotel, hoping they caught SARS, had to shut down, someone would paint a red cross on their door and they'd go bust. So my first impressions of Hangzhou were rather unfavourable. Then round the corner, 2 giggly teenage sisters behind a reception desk smiled, got their mate in for a little English and booked me into an ensuite single, no problems and at the best rate I'd had (about £6). Later on, I discovered a Chinese cash and carry supermarket with an excellent selection of goodies including cheap, very drinkable red Chinese red vino ( a first!). There is nothing like walking into a place of vast variety and thinking I can but anything I want to eat or drink in this place and then proceed to buy everything that attracts your attention (all the main food groups; sugar, fat, pistachio nuts, alcohol etc)

Hangzhou is the provincial capital of Zhejiang and for the Chinese (who else?) is the country's most famous tourist destination (along with Guilin which we visited in 2001). West Lake is a large freshwater lake that dominates the city. Bordered on three sides by hills, it's banks and islands are blanketed with small gardens and temples, but an awful lot of the lake is now also bordered by an ever rising skyline of concrete urbanisation. The Chinese tourist blurb reads "In heaven, there is paradise, on earth, Suzhou and Hangzhou". Like Suzhou, its previous reputation precedes it. Marco Polo passed through here in the 13th Century and described it as one of the finest and most splendid cities in the world (this was before he was done for duel pricing). Afterwards, it was trashed numerous times and now, ignoring the impressive lake, could be any modern Chinese city.

I caught a local bus to the far west of the city, near the hills overlooking the West Lake. The Temple of Inspired Seclusion (Lingyin Temple) or Temple of the Soul's Retreat is Hangzhou's major attraction and it is a doozy. Originally built in 326AD, it was destroyed and rebuilt 16 times, but I'm glad they did. It is still ranked as one of the Top Ten Zen Buddhist temples in China. The present buildings are restorations of 18th Century Qing Dynasty structures and originally 3000 monks lived here. A sign outside each hall said "Keep lustration and stateliness in the temple". Piped Buddhist music in the grounds ensured a tranquil feeling as a few monks pottered around.

The Hall of the Four heavenly Guardians was awesome; the four largest and most decorated Guardians I have ever seen and left Korea's equivalents outclassed. They were all 10m tall, with fearsome faces and beautifully carved. Inside the hall in the centre was a golden statue of the laughing Buddha who "can endure everything unendurable in the world (i.e. Chinese hotel policies and SARS paperwork) and laugh at every laughable person in the world (i.e. me in my shorts). He did a pretty good impression of Mr Blobby (BBC Children's TV icon of the great unwashed).

Behind this was the Great Hall which contained a magnificent 20m tall statue of Siddhartha Gautama (Buddha) sculptured from 24 blocks of camphor wood in 1956 and based on an original. It was surrounded by huge gold painted statues of standing guardians. Behind it on the backing of Buddha, was a startling 3 D montage of 53 children on the road to Buddhahood. Difficult to describe, but it looked like a massive plaster cast carving/sculpture that was also 20m tall, stretched to the ceiling. Hundreds of animals and people seemed to drip off the rocks. If the people weren't smiling, it would have looked like a Chinese Dante's version of hell. Completely unique, I'd never seen anything like it.

I kept climbing up to the next halls with more gigantic Buddha statues. If front of the temples were massive iron cauldrons full of burning incense and a new sight; plastic torches like plastic candles, containing a small battery which powered a small bulb and these were used instead of real candles on the racks. The exteriors of the buildings were nothing special but the interiors were fabulous. There were revolving pyramids of 1000 lit tiny buddhas in some of them which turned like Xmas trees covered in 1000 fairylights.

As I was leaving, I spotted a hall off to the side. It contained 500 massive metal statues set off in a X shape. They were all seated above me at head height. Every statue was unique, and their eyes seemed to follow you around. One was threading a needle, another taking fruit from a monkey perched in a tree by his shoulder, another crawling with small children, another looking at a mirror with two other heads on his shoulders. A wonderful collection and a unique sight (though the Temple near Kumming has a similar, smaller affair with plaster cast statues).

Across from the temple, over a small stream, was a hill gorged out with ancient sculptures (330 of them), carved out of the rock between the 10th and 14th centuries. Lots of lifesize seated Buddhas were carved out of niches. Two caves; the Cave of the Dragon and the Cave of Milky Icicles were also full of carved sculptures. The largest, 9x4m, on a cliff face was of the Laughing Buddha with 13 attendants standing around waiting to massage his fat stomach. With few Chinese tourists around, I scrambled up and around trying to find them all. I have seen a lot of temple complexes in China, but along with the cliff face sculptures, this is one of the best I have seen.

Photo of Laughing Buddha carving

I walked back down from the hills to the West Lake. One of the most famous lakes in China, it is 3km long by 3 km wide. Two causeways split the lake into sections and 8th Century bridges were tall enough to let small boats through. The locals paddling their boats, had an alternative way of rowing. They strapped both feet to an oar and using their knees to push/power the boat, while a free hand guided an oar on the other side. As I crossed one lengthy causeway, lots of couples walked around in romantic settings. It was very pleasant; nothing like Srinigar's Lake in Kashmir, but for China, a real delight to have it on your doorstep in the middle of a large city. In the distance on the other side of the lake, I could see the 60m tall Six Harmonies Pagoda, shrouded in haze.

On the lakeside, lies the Mausoleum of General Yue Fei; in the 12th Century, he was commander of the Song armies that helped defend China from the invading northerners and was then executed after being set up by the Royal Court, by someone called Qin Hui. Later reinstated as a Chinese Hero (they love to kill their heroes and then reinstate them; oops we did it again), Chinese tourists apparently gob over the statue of Qin Hui and his wife, but the place was empty and since when did the Chinese need an excuse to spit? The Mausoleum was nothing special. Neither were the Japanese Gardens by the lakeside. It would have helped if half of the gardens were not a construction site. If it was really Japanese, the place would have been finished and be absolutely spotless. How I missed Japanese tidiness!

Early, the following morning I caught a local bus across town to the northern bus station to find that my 7.30am bus to Tunxi was full. The next one was 2.30pm. A SARS nurse spoke a little English when I asked for any bus heading west. She told me that a bus would take me to Changhua (never heard of the place) 2 hours away, and after another temp test and SARS form, I was on my way, heading into the middle of nowhere. The small dilapidated bus had no suspension and it was a bumpy ride into the countryside under overcast skies. Arriving in the sleepy market town of Changhua, I walked up the main street to a couple of buses. "Tunxi?" No. But, just then a bus was rolling through the street. A man jumped out and stopped it. "Tunxi" he indicated and I was away. There is nothing like tackling China on your own terms and succeeding.

It was another, old, half empty bus. The rain began to bucket down. Half the roads seemed to be unsurfaced, but it didn't stop our driver from driving at breakneck speeds and keeping his horn going to clear the traffic before him. A huge new road project was being built through the hills and we drove through miles of muddy, bumpy, uncomfortable, road construction sites. There were neat tea plantations on the hills and barren muddy paddy fields in the valleys with the new shoots growing in small nurseries in one corner. Local men would stand on a plank of wood chained behind a water buffalo and get dragged across the mud to smooth it down. Everyone seemed to wear the old bamboo conical hats. Cars were few and far between, but bicycles, tripeds and motorbikes were regular obstacles. Despite the incessant rain which kept up for hours, we drove through spectacular steep sided hills covered in lush green vegetation. We stopped for lunch at a muddy roadside cafe where geese sat in puddles in the courtyard. Midway on the trip, in some piss ant village, we were all ushered out of the bus for a SARS test. We had already filled out one set of forms on the bus and had to fill in another set. Someone sprayed disinfectant inside the bus while we all had our temperatures taken.

Arriving at Tunxi at 4am after a hard journey, a nurse used an ear thermometer on me and DIDN'T clean it from the previous test. Three attempts on my ear failed and they stuck a thermometer under my armpit while I filled in more forms. Another small empty bus left for Tangkou almost immediately. At last, a sealed road and the scenery looked very promising. There was a very recent landslide on route which covered half the road. A bulldozer was already clearing it to the entertainment of a local village. Another 12 hours of bus rides concluded. Tangkou was only 280km from Hangzhou!

Tangkou was a small tourist town tucked in amongst the hills. The bus dropped me at "the best hotel in town" and obviously above my budget. A little woman came out of a restaurant ushering me in. "Hotel?" I asked. She crossed her fingers and indicated that there was nothing towards the centre of town and pointed at the "best hotel in town". I ignored her, but she followed me through the streets as I checked out the possibilities. I had the problems of the dead tourist season, so many had not opened yet, most of those that had, did not admit foreigners and those that did had no hot water. Another little man who spoke some English joined the old woman and said "Come to my restaurant". "I'm looking for a hotel". They seemed to think I'd eat at their places, if they found me somewhere to stay, but they just followed me around saying "no good, no good". After 6 rejections ("and a plague of SARS on you, you bastards"), I ignored one of the "no good" places and entered the family run guesthouse. They spoke little English, but had no problem with me staying. Why not, I was the only tourist in town. The comfortable en suite room even had a bearable shower that they turned on for me.

After I checked in, they had me driven down to the Health Inspection Office. Another armpit test, another form and another collection of false details. It seemed like an irrelevant bureaucratic paper chase. "Thank you, Mr Erection" the official said. I must have filled in over 30 of these diverse, Chinese only, medical forms by now. The little man was still following me. "You come to my restaurant now?" No. Later on, he caught me at a small supermarket buying beer. "You come to my restaurant now?". It was like being escorted by my mother.

I was now in the inland province of Anhui. The Yangzi River cuts through the southern quarter. South of this are the spectacular Huangshan ("Yellow Mountains"), a 72 peak range. For the Chinese, Huangshan along with Guilin is probably the most famous landscape in the country. A tourist sign said it is "the most marvellousest mountain on earth" (dream on). Nevertheless, it does have a 1200 year history as a tourist attraction, which is a little more than Alton Towers theme park in the UK.

It turned out to be a noisy hotel. Some Chinese tourists rolled up and some bastard insisted at screaming at his kids until 10pm. He was back at it by 7am. I had already been awakened by the construction crews which were redeveloping the river area that runs through the centre of the town. An endless tap tapping of chisels on stone. One wonders when they will ever finish building China. Maybe , its an endless circle. I have also come to the conclusion that Chinese people hate silence. They seem more comfortable when someone is yelling, or honking their horns or building something or clearing their throats with amplified volume. Peaceful tranquil ambience seems to scare them. It is important that they scream out at all times, when climbing the most isolated places.

Shock horror. No rain, though very overcast and humid. Around 7.30am, I walked north to Huangshan Gate, where the local police stood and guided me into an office for another ear temp test. There were large signs in English about SARS. It seemed a bit extreme; how do you contract SARS climbing a tall mountain, virtually empty of people? From the fresh air?

There are two routes up Huangshan; the short hard way (Eastern Steps) or the longer harder way (Western Steps). I opted for the latter. I followed the winding road for 6km, cutting off some of the loops using staircases in between and walking through gigantic bamboo forests. I passed the deserted "Hot Springs Area" resort to the entrance and was gobsmacked to get a 130 Yuan fee (£10), the largest admission price by far I'd come across in China (to climb a mountain?). It was 65Y for the "low season" and I thought they were taking the piss by having the "High Season" start in March. If it's the High Season, why are most of the hotels closed? They didn't understand and what could I do by pay up (no sneaky back routes either, I know, I checked).

I had the Western Steps to myself apart from the occasional trail sweeper, whose wage I had just paid for. It was very damp and humid and bugger cultural insults, my T shirt came off. I climbed up in just shorts and sneakers. "The 15km western steps route has some of Huangshan's most spectacular scenery, following a precarious route hewn out of sheer rock cliffs" (LP) or would have on a bright sunny day. Unlike today, where the mist swirled around and views were non existent. "It is double the length and twice as strenuous as the eastern steps" (LP). Maybe, but after tackling the 6600 steps at Taishan, this seemed a lot easier. There were few points equal to Taishan, where the lung collapsing, knee crushing, calf shredding, oh god, oh god, how many more bloody steps, took hold, but I certainly built up a sweat. There were no temples, but occasionally I'd scramble through narrow tunnels between the rocks. The 'Heavingly Capital Peak' with its "exhilaratingly steep and exposed stairway" was closed (High season, my arse). Dotted around the peaks were hotels where the (currently non existent) Chinese tourists stay overnight, to catch the (currently non existent) sunrise. They were deserted. At this point, I came across a few Chinese hikers who either laughed at, or admired my dripping torso. "Very strong" a gasping woman exclaimed, as she collapsed in a heap.

There was a lovely steep climb up to Lotus Flower Peak, the highest peak at 1864m. Narrow staircases had been carved out of bare rock with mind numbing drops below. The views must be spectacular on a clear day. Occasional bushes of white and red spring flowers had somehow found refuge in sheltered spots. The mist swirled around the summit. Not cold, just very humid and moist. In the silent tranquillity (save for an occasional yell by some Chinese hiker), I could hear the sound of water everywhere beneath me. Pushing on down and then up to Bright Summit Peak (1841m), paved trails meandered around lookout points of Huangshan's summit area. "Imagine a Chinese ink landscape; gnarled pines, craggy rocks, a rolling sea of clouds and you'll have some idea of what the Chinese tourists are referring to in their admiration" (LP). But not today. Imagine an entire summit covered in swirling mist. I made for the Beihai area (Fresh Breeze Terrace) where they all tramp up for the sunrise. It had taken about 4 hours to reach it (21km and then some). Despite the lack of viewpoints today, it was rather nice to have the place to myself, but it wasn't worth the steep admission fee. There are no temples en route so it could be any mountain. The paths were clean of litter and well maintained, but I'd have to recommend Taishan's ordeal any day.

Turning south to join the Eastern Steps, the cable car terminus was under reconstruction. small gangs of porters were bring up building materials (heavy pottery tiles) hanging from both ends of a plank across their shoulders. It was heavy stuff and I had a go at carrying one load up the steps which was a fearsome ordeal. I admired their strength and even more, when having dumped their loads, they came scampering back down the steps past me, to jog 8km to pick up the next load. On the Western Steps route, I had seen porters offering to take you up in a sedan chair (4 men on a pole each). The price as far as they could take you was about £100. The cheeky bastards even asked me, the rock hound from hell, if I wanted a lift. The 7.5km descent down the Eastern Steps' endless flights of stairs was relatively comfortable on the knees.

I rejoined the road back at the Eastern Steps entrance where a 12km hike took me around a lovely twisting walk back down into the valley, past bare sheer sided cliffs and a decent waterfall to the Hot Springs Area. Here, along with giant posters of the last Chinese Premier admiring the sunrise, I saw a public toilet with a sign "Hot Springs Touring Lavatory"; is this a toilet that tours hot spring areas? or a toilet that hangs around the Hot Springs Area and moves day to day? Mercifully, the rain had held off all day, but it returned at 5pm as I relaxed in my guesthouse room. Later, I picked up some beer and guess who turned up. "You come to my restaurant now?". No. I wanted to add that since he was always in the street, he obviously had no customers, not even locals so why should I eat there? I was amazed to find that the day's hiking had given me mild sunburn. But there was no sun.

A 6.20am bus took me back to Hangzhou in one journey. As I waited, early the next morning, locals would scoot into the bus station for their daily SARS test. Shock horror. I wasn't tested because I was leaving town. The sun was finally poking through the clouds and I had to take back everything I'd said. It was spectacular scenery; following a valley surrounded by towering green mountains covered with thick green foliage. The river had been damned downstream and the valley bottom was an endless collection of tranquil turquoise coloured lakes; and definitely some of the most stunning scenery I'd seen anywhere in China, which when you consider the size of the country is actually few and far between.

We rolled through tatty hamlets where the locals were outside on their doorsteps taking advantage of the sun; brushing their teeth, washing, eating breakfast, walking to their fields with their tools. Poor quality sheaves of wheat/barley were drying in the fields. Many women were already at work in the fields before 7am. The occasional water buffalo lumbered around the mud. We passed old stone pagodas, 10 stories high, that had somehow survived relatively intact but with their tops and sides covered in greenery.

We stopped for breakfast at Tunxi. The bus terminus was a small circular affair with a pond in the centre. Chinese men squatted down and grunted in the basic, white tiled, no door, cubicles in the toilets. I ate spicy Chinese pancakes (4 for 20p) and a woman employee brought me a complimentary glass of hot green tea (which was nice). The bus filled up at Tunxi and we motored back down the unconstructed roads back to Huangzhou, 8 hours after leaving Tangkou (with only one SARS test en route).

There is something rather comforting about arriving back in a familiar place. You know what local bus to catch, where to go, where to stay, where to buy food and what to expect from the SARS test at the bus station; questions like "Job?" No job. I'm a tourist. "Phone Number?" No phone. I'm a tourist. "No mobile phone?" Who am I going to call in China?. "Where are you staying?" I don't know. In a hotel. "Which one?" I don't know. I haven't found one yet. I'm a tourist. A doctor looked at my passport and filled in what he could before zapping my head with a temperature reader. Back at my guesthouse, my giggling girls were delighted to see me back in my shorts and I was delighted to see the array of goodies back at the cash and carry supermarket. I was even able to book a bus ticket for the following day with an English speaking ticket seller (a real luxury in China).

Late, that same Sunday afternoon, I caught a bus back out to the West Lake to watch the Chinese locals at play; I walked around Solitary Hill, the largest island in the lake. The Chinese got paddled around the lake, sat and played cards, chatted, or had a drink at a lakeside cafe. A multiple wedding reception with two couples was taking place at a hotel (I hung around but wasn't invited in; bugger, must have been the shorts). At a lakeside pavilion, a small group of Chinese played traditional fiddle/bow/lute instruments while a woman warbled into a microphone like a strangled cat. A few old men stood on hump back bridges trying to get their kites in the only breeze available. I noticed that I was setting a trend in town; they may have laughed at my shorts when I arrived but in the hot air, quite a few men now had their trouser legs rolled up to their knees. I walked across the other causeway back into the city. Huangzhou definitely grows on you. Yes, it is another modern Chinese city, but the West Lake is a fabulous setting where you can escape the normal hustle and bustle. There were even roadsigns that said "No Honking". For me, the lake made it one of the most attractive modern cities in China.

The next day, my trip fell apart. I caught an express bus to Ningbo, two hours east. I headed for the Passenger Ferry Terminal, to buy a ticket to the island of Putusoshan. But was informed that all ferries had been cancelled indefinitely to stop SARS from reaching the island.

"Putuoshan is the China we all dream about; temples, pagodas, arched bridges, narrow alleys, fishing boats, artisans and monks; the China we see on postcards. Here you feel miles away from the noise, pollution, concrete block housing developments, billboards, political slogans and hustle that characterise modern Chinese cities" (LP). I sat in Ningbo feeling miles away from Putuoshan. It was to have been my last major sight, 2 days and an overnight ferry back to Shanghai.

Suddenly, I was at a loss what to do. I had four days until my flight, and a thick guidebook with nowhere to go. I contemplated heading far south to Xiamen and the island of Gulangyu, but it would take two days and, I'd only originally pencilled it in as a stop over to Hong Kong. Since I was no longer going to HK, it seemed a meaningless journey just to burn up time.

The province of Zhejiang which I had been touring around, seemed pleasant enough and I decided to stay in the area. Pot luck. I chose Shaoxing between Ningbo and Hangzhou and returned back down the expressway. Arriving at the new bus terminal which was not in my guidebook, I got a pleasant introduction; an information desk told me which local bus to catch downtown and then came out minutes later and gave me a better bus to catch. I was turned away from one hotel, but they pointed across the road up an alley. The Hongliang Hotel was an empty nine storey affair, but there was no haggling over the price and for about £7.50 I was surprised to find myself in a vast tatty 7th floor suite. A table and chairs at one end, double bed, hot water/western toilet, TV with Chinese English news channel and a hot/cold water machine in the room or drinks etc. For the price it was my best hotel in Eastern China. The only down point over my two night stay was an incessant phone calling by a non English speaking Chinese massage girl who also turned up at the door and got short shrift ("Two words, and the second word is Off"). I took the phone off the hook during my stay.

Shaoxing is the centre of the waterway system on the northern Zhejiang plain. The Chinese tourist blurb called it "China's Venice" (what another one?) and the "city of 500 bridges" (rather an exaggeration), though it was full of rivers, canals, boats and arched bridges. Also birthplace of China's first great modern novelist, Lu Xun (who?).

With no where in mind, in the hot sunny weather, I went exploring down the main street called Jiefang Beilu. Lots of narrow canals with old housing banking onto them, and an old 10 floor stone pagoda, juxtapostioned against a vast new entertainment centre. Halfway down, was the Dashanta Pagoda on a hill (closed for redevelopment). A market in the hidden alleyways next to a canal sold plants and pets (cats in cages, cute black marble eyeballed pugnosed Pekinese puppies, fish in basins, song birds in tiny cages etc). Buildings were getting pulled down everywhere and the southern section of town was just one dusty construction site. The canals were full of open long boats with people sweeping the water with nets for rubbish. The Chinese seem to love throwing their rubbish everywhere and rely on armies of people to clean everywhere all the time. I had been amazed to still see young youths simply throwing empty plastic mineral water bottles out of buses and taxis, as if they didn't have to look at the shit they were creating in their own towns.

But the one thing that struck me about Shaoxing was that noone, not a single person, was wearing a facemask. I didn't have a temp check at the hotel either. They seemed oblivious to the problem, happy to get on with their lives. They were also very unintrusive to me, the only westerner in town. Lots of smiling at my shorts. That night on TV, Beijing was still feeling the fall out (2437 cases with 150 deaths). But we were a long way from Beijing.

I caught a bus, the next morning, SE outside town to visit King Yu's Mausoleum. According to legend, the first Chinese dynasty held power from the 21st to the 16th BC and the founder was King Yu. He is credited with having engineered the massive flood control projects which helped a) stop Shaoxing from being washed away every few years b) establishing it as a regional capital. They have been honouring the old boy here since the 6th century, but the bedraggled current affair seemed to have been built in the early 1930s and like my father of about the same age, time has taken its toll (there go the family jewels).

It was a quiet, enclosed complex with tiled roof entrances covered in spring flowers growing on the tiles and dragon carvings sprawling across the ridges. The 24m Main Hall had a large statue of King Lu. At his feet lay 3 severed heads of a goat, water buffalo and sheep (obviously not a vegetarian). The hall was pretty much empty of anything, but a small band of teenagers were set up to play traditional Chinese music. On the right of King Lu sat a boy playing a Chinese fiddle, a girl playing a lute, another girl on a plinky plonky Chinese harpsichord and behind them, a girl on small percussion banged on a number of metal plates hanging down from wires. On the left of the statue, on large percussion, were a large collection of traditional hanging cast iron bells covered in studs to alter the tone. One kid used a big stick to bong them at suitable intervals while another girl stood behind the bells and played a smaller collection hanging on the top two rows. At least the 15 minute recital added some atmosphere to the place and they grinned nervously at their only listener. Outside, an old man made souvenir fans. There was very little to see and the £2 admission charge seemed a little ambitious for what it was.

The mausoleum was back dropped by lush green hills of impenetrable vegetation. On the top stood a large metal statue of King Lu (must be relatively new) and a pagoda. I walked up a long flight of concrete steps with furry caterpillars crawling across them, golden skinned lizards sunbathing and a large toad squatted in the undergrowth. When I got near the top, there was the usual Chinese way of doing things; another £2 Entrance Fee (which of course is not mentioned at the bottom of the stairs). I turned right around and gave my wallet a vacation and gave the bloke the bums' rush.

Supposedly, the Mausoleum was on the banks of the attractive East Lake with a canal linking back to the city. But inevitably, it had been completely drained and was another construction site so, so much for the boat trip back. I was getting the impression throughout the country that they all think the 2008 Beijing Olympics is going to bring the whole world to the whole of China and they want to have a piece of the action. But how many tourists will venture out of Beijing itself?

Trucks carrying rubble tore along the dusty unsurfaced roads and honked loudly (they have Volume 11 horns) as they passed. I hate Chinese truckers; loud, aggressive little bastards that sit up in their cabs and scare people crazy with their horns and antics as if they are 'kings of the world'.

Exploring the hills around the Mausoleum, I came across a vast cemetery covering a hillside. Thousands of small graves about a metre long (cremations), with a gravestone at one end and 4 small lions at each corner. Some of the gravestones had black and white photos of the deceased. I climbed a small endless flights of steps up between row upon row of graves. I don't know who gets buried up at the top now, but it must be a bugger for old people to climb all those stairs. I'd have to give my dad a fireman's lift to get him up for the service. I sat up there on a roasting sunny morning for an hour and admired the view and watched a new temple complex get built below. Dynamite explosions rocked the tranquillity.

Back in town, I explored new sections and came across a Rice Wine Brewery. Outside its entrance was a gigantic up tipped bottle with liquid pouring out of it into a goblet. It even smelt like rice wine. Shaoxing is famous for its wine; "a ferocious spirit that doubles as nail polish remover" (LP). Tasted ok to my severely damaged palate. It was just nice to potter around and watch daily life. The heat was rife and even the construction crews seemed to have come to a standstill. Stallowners played cards with each other, and even the tricyclists couldn't be bothered to ask if I needed a lift. Some of the canals stunk in the heat, but it didn't stop local women from washing their clothes in them, using the stone steps or old wooden scrubbing boards and soap. A couple of men used their feet to paddle their boats along a canal. I found Shaoxing to be a very relaxed place. Off the tourist route, they left me alone or laughed at my shorts.

The new underground shopping mall was a strange place. It was circular. In the middle, underground but open to the sunlight, was a huge scale model of the city's 20 year reconstruction programme to have "A Home for the Better" for 1m people. In the shopping mall around it, you left your bag at one entrance and grabbed a basket and walked though a department store variety of goodies including a vast huge food hall. You lugged your goodies to the other end (which was only half way around the circle), pay and then had to walk all the way back to get your bag; the first time I visited, it took me 15 minutes to buy an ice cream (tip; Chinese ice cream is cheap and scrummy). But it turned out to be the only supermarket in China I found that served COLD beer. And on a sweltering day like today, I could forgive the crazy design.

I caught a local bus 10km SW of the city to visit the Lanting Pavilion; apparently, a "must see" spot for the Chinese tourists. I just used it as excuse to see some more scenery and didn't bother enetering the complex, originally established in 1548, but the current constructions much more recent. Instead, I walked around the hills through gorgeous cool bamboo forests and around paddy fields. Peering in to look at the complex, it was more like a "must not see" spot.

It was a familiar series of bus rides back to Hangzhou and back to Suzhou. Suzhou's bus station SARS medical staff was still not happy that I didn't have a mobile phone. "Have you got a phone in England?" I asked. "No". "Well, why should I have one in China?". On the Express buses, filled with wealthier Chinese, I was plagued by the mobile phone user. They yelled down their phones like it was a tin can connected by a piece of string. I tried to learn Chinese for " Listen mate, if you have to yell that loudly, your phone isn't working". It was like reliving London in the early 1990s when mobile phones were a rarity and anyone with one wanted to let the rest of the world know that they had a mobile phone.

A minibus took me east 38km to the "ancient city of Zhouzhang". I had absolutely no details on this place. During my internet research, someone had recommended this place over Suzhou and I decided to check it out. I was glad I did. It turned out to be the best preserved old water town that I'd see on the trip.

I didn't realise that it was such a famous Chinese tourist attraction; "A town of waters ranks top in China". For the first time on the trip, the usual hassling of tourists took place. As the bus pulled into Zhouzhang bus station, the touts and tricyclists chased us in. I didn't know where I was supposed to go or what I was supposed to see, but headed south down the main street, followed my nose and shook off the never ending parade of tricyclist offers. 2 km later, crossing over a long bridge onto a peninsula with a tall pagoda nearby, I entered another construction site. Someone steered me into a ticket office. There was a 60 Yuan (£4.60 entrance charge). "For what?" I asked "To watch people dig up the road?" Noone could speak English and there were no photos of the sights. In the end, they waved me through. As it was, it was only one street getting dug up. I found a tourist office that gave me a comprehensive booklet and map and let me leave my backpack there for free.

The booklet said "Located in the middle between Shanghai and Suzhou, Zhouzhang is the ancient town of Kunstan City, Jiangsu Province". The town is over 900 years old, "yet it remains as it were. The typical style and features of the water country in town remains unchanged" (I guess they had endless tourist stalls and restaurants 900 years ago). Yet it was a lovely place. All the houses in this small historic town were built by streams with pavements along them. The enclosed, narrow, murmuring canals had lots of arched stone bridges over them, and weeping willow trees framed them. Very quiet, no construction and a very pretty place to stroll around the cobbled streets under the wooden eves of the stalls. It was certainly the tidiest place I'd seen in China.

The layout of the water lanes in Zhouzhang was perfectly arranged so that it looked like a Chinese character "#". Many arched stone bridges were built over them, linking up the 500 year old houses on either side. The bridges were very old; Ming and Qing dynasties. The most famous site was the "Double Bridge"; two bridges, the Shide and Yong'an built between 1573 and 1619 where two canals (rivers)intersected. One bridge was arched, the other flat. Apparently, they look like an ancient key (whatever). The Fu'an Bridge (1355 but rebuilt later), had towers on all 4 corners with carved beams and painted rafters.

I know my guidebook was 7 years old, but how on earth did LP miss this place? It was far superior to any "water town" I saw anywhere in Eastern China. For me, it represented what a real old water town would have looked like at the height of the Grand Canal Even McDonalds/KFC hadn't arrived). Since the place was virtually devoid of Chinese tourists, it was an even nicer experience to potter around and explore. If you ever come to Shanghai, you could visit this place as a day trip. Very recommended. There is another old water town called Lunxi nearby, which looks (from the postcards I saw later) very similar.

Leaving Zhouzhang the next morning, it occurred to me that this was the only bus station where I didn't have my temperature taken or filled in a health form. It was just as well, I had awoken with a sore throat and cold and was worried that my temperature would rise. I wasn't worried about getting SARS, I was worried that Shanghai wouldn't let me back into the city, and I'd miss my flight!

At the tiny Zhouzhang bus station I also experienced a Chinese example of "the customer is always wrong" mentality. A little old man, sat behind the sole ticket counter reading his newpaper in an empty building. "Shanghai" I said. He indicated "No". What do you mean no? (I knew there were buses from here to Shanghai). He went back to reading his paper and ignored me, as if it was the most normal thing to do in an empty bus terminal. There were timetables up on the wall (in Chinese) which I couldn't understand. We were talking about a bus station that got maybe 2 local minibuses an hour on a good day and not exactly the transportation hub of the province. Another man entered and watched me try to get the ticket sellers attention. This man indicated that there was no direct bus to Shanghai and that I had to change at (whereever). So I walked back to the ticket seller and asked for (wherever). He put his paper down, with a "Certainly Sir" in Chinese, snapped to attention and issued the 6 Yuan ticket. It was like dealing with Basil Fawlty. It wouldn't have taken a lot to indicate I needed 2 buses using body language, but if you are foreign in China its a case of "piss off you idiot".

The crappy old local bus took me (rather slowly) to (wherever) through some wonderful rural countryside. We passed over a river that had a dozen open barges of concrete/rubble getting towed along together in a line, little old ladies paddled boats about and locals working in the fields in their conical bamboo hats. This merged into massive new textile factories sitting in modern clean industrial estates as good as the west's. Entering (wherever; it called itself Kunstan City), a sign read "Cleanest City in the Nation". This sign was over the main road which was now completely dug up and now a construction site! Well, it used to be the cleanest place. More SARS questions at the bus station there ("no telephone?") and a sign that said "Restallrant" (a brilliant misspelling of restaurant). Onto Shanghai and a repeat performance of the SARS checking procedure outside the city.("no telephone"?) The traffic was backed up so far, there were TV crews shooting footage of them.

I spent my final day and a half in dreary overcast Shanghai and my temperature stayed down even though I was coughing and snorting all day and night. I explored the remains of the old Chinese city with its old world grumpiness scowling at the fresh faced upstarts around it. It was a maze of narrow alleys, lined with closely packed houses, small stalls selling everything and laundry hanging from the windows. Most people seemed to be playing cards. Old women in Chairman Mao blue tunics sat outside and knitted or played dominoes. It was a strange reminder of what most of Shanghai must have looked like before the expressways and new buildings demolished most of it. I suppose it will have disappeared in ten years replaced by another layer of non descript tower blocks.

There was a tourist complex at Yuyuan Gardens and Bizarre. Souvenir shops and restaurants jostled shoulders in a mock "ye olde Shanghai" setting with ye olde mock Chinese wooden buildings and red lanterns. Disneyland recreated China. I had been to China enough times to have bought every conceivable souvenir already. Pirate CDs in Shanghai were 75p a pop, but the selection was limited. At the Central Post Office, I attempted to buy a set of the special SARS postage stamps which the Government had issued the week before. Two sets sat in a glass cabinet. The girl just said "No" and ignored me. No explanation. More Chinese customer satisfaction guaranteed. I found them later elsewhere.

On the final day, I picked a lesser known sight right out in the countryside surrounding Shanghai. Jiaxing is famous (well it gets an inch in the guidebook) for Tianmashan hill and the Huzhou Pagoda; China's version of the leaning Tower of Pisa. OK. So its not on most people's itinerary but, it was brilliant in a modest kind of way. I took a metro to the end of the line in the SW and under the concrete beams of a new expressway being constructed, a local bus took me 20km out into the quiet countryside. On top of the forested hill stood this weird pagoda. Built in 1079, the 19m high tower started leaning 200 years ago and now has an inclination EXCEEDING Pisa by 1.5 degrees. This tall, narrow, small grey bricked, pagoda had 4 legs, one of which had crumbled away, so it sort of leaned over on a tripod and I don't know how it was still standing (no artificial supports etc). I kept walking around looking for an exit if it tumbled. It was a strange place; a protected forested hill with numerous shrines dotted about; a cheapo golden Buddha, a large horse statue in a watch tower, bamboo groves. One of those places in China that seems to exist and noone visits. Excellent value for 10 Yuan. I did, however, think it strange to get an SARS test to enter. I mean, the place was absolutely deserted. Do you catch SARS from trees?

As you walk around Shanghai's shopping areas, (as in Beijing) you get approached by "art students" who are promoting "Student art of Chinese painting". Its a scam to get you in to buy professional works at high prices and I always just walked on disinterested. It was the middle of a Friday afternoon rush hour. People had shoved past me, were trying to run me down both on the roads and pavements and generally all acting like pushy, big city, we're going somewhere, sod you, Shanghaiers. I was pissed off and trying to get back to the hotel to collect my pack and head for the airport.

An art student approached with the usual spiel. He had good English and when I said "I've been to them before". "Well come to mine". No. "Why not?". He followed me down the street as I attempted to deal with the traffic. "Why not?" he kept saying. In the end I turned around and said "I'll tell you why not. Because most of the people here and in many other parts of China are loud, pushy, arrogant, very racist and really ignorant. They are dirty, impolite, money grabbers, throw their crap all over the streets, the country is a construction site, the traffic is chaotic, and noone gives you a second chance crossing the road. Because of your filthy habits like spitting, you get a virus and try and blame it on the west. Then when you can't cover it up anymore, you start squealing, only because you're losing money over it. I have no reason to spend money on any crap in China. The only thing I need in Shanghai is the internet and the city can't even offer that. I will personally make it a policy never to buy Chinese and when the sea level rises, I hope this hellhole is one of the first places to go underwater, preferably right in the middle of the 2010 Shanghai Expo. Now piss off". "So you won't come to the art collection?" he asked, completely unmoved (it has to be said that my Auntie Alison in Canada thought Shanghai was great).

It felt good to get a month's worth of China off my chest. It always does. I was ready to leave China. Everyone always is. Like India and Indonesia, the loud, frantic pace of life of people just trying to survive just grinds you down. Maybe it was just the big city life at the end of the trip. I got tired of that years ago.

All things considered however, and despite the SARS situation that made travelling an endless parade of temperature taking, form filling and cancellations of many tourist attractions, I found it very easy to travel around China, but it was my 3/4th visit and I knew how to "do things". The complete shut down of both foreign and Chinese tourist industries made getting around much simpler. No long lines at bus/train stations and someone could now usually speak a little English if you got stuck.

I found the Chinese people easy going (except for getting manhandled in Shanghai markets) apart from the pushy ones that you get in every country. Maybe it was the fact I was male, solo and seemed to know what he was doing, or was at least relaxed enough about the place to go with the flow. People seemed to look out for me (guiding me to buses, helping me fill out SARS forms). So much stuff is now priced in China that haggling, except for the hotels was non existent (unless you're buying souvenirs).

I actually found most customer service to be pretty good (for China). It was just the occasional un helpfulness that stuck out because it was, er, so unhelpful. I became a tourist attraction on my own. I was the only western visitor (outside Beijing and Shanghai), so there was lots of staring and often laughing. One man walked up to me in Shanghai, pointed at the size of my feet and burst out laughing (in a friendly, inquisitive way). Maybe my isolation, as the only westerner affected me (I saw 4 in Shanghai on my last day). It felt as if I had China to myself. It was also the first time that I'd visited China on my own.

China is a vast country, and though it portrays itself as very diverse, much of China is still the same old loud modern cities under reconstruction. It does all start to look the same after a while. Another bus ride, another city. This trip had specifically taken in the eastern side. Apart from the Great Wall and Taishan, there was nothing really spectacular and I'd conclude that my previous trip around the South Western provinces was ultimately more diverse, interesting and more olde Chinese. The East Coast is the future of China and for me, modern China does not hold the fascination of old China. Beijing is always worth a visit and everyone should see the Great Wall once in their lifetime.

Around 7.30pm on Friday May 23rd (Day 434), the new metro line took me out across to Padong and onto the Airport Shuttle bus route. Pudong airport is about 3 years, brand spanking new, with a kind of Dulles Airport (Washington DC) structure, and these weird 3 metre prongs sticking down from the sloping ceilings throughout. It was virtually closed. I have never visited an emptier airport. There were heavy duty SARS procedures before you could check your bags in. Walking through immigration, lines and lines of airport duty free shops were closed. Every plane was nearly empty. I boarded Eastern China Airlines 9.25pm flight and had, well, most of the plane to myself. It was time to return to the wonderful world of the internet. It was time to return to Bangkok.

Travel - £200.63 (inc Plane fare to Bangkok £143)
Accommodation - £113.85
Food - £42.43
Other - £31.57
Total - £388.48

Grand Total - £1452.98

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