Despite Chengdu not being that far from Beijing on a map of China, it was still a 2 1/2 hour flight. Yep, China is massive. The hostel I've stayed at here (Mix backpackers) has been awesome. Much more lively than the one in Beijing, and dead cheap too. You can get a large bottle of beer and a really good meal for just under a pound. Also took advantage of their extensive and impressive pirate DVD collection on a day off from doing/seeing stuff. In truth, I've done pretty much sweet FA in the time I've been here, just relaxed. I did take a quick trip downtown to see their massive Mao statue - that little guy gets everywhere!

And, of course, I went to see the pandas at the research centre. The Chinese absolutely love their pandas. They're so proud that they're the one country that has them naturally, and think everyone thinks that they're amazing for trying to save them. Well, not quite China. We all think it's your fault for killing the poor bastards in the first place (putting aside the creature's basic design faults.) So, you know, just think about that before you start errr, getting all about loving yourselves for it. And stuff. Anyway, They've got something like 70 or 80 pandas there, and they're trying to breed more. They've even got a panda sperm bank, and unnecessarily showed a film about how they got it. It seems Rebecca Loos really will do anything for money.

The one thing we were told at the hostel about the research centre, was that the pandas really didn't do much, but there was one cheeky chap that spends his whole time on show just rubbing his ass against things. Kind of like a panda pole dancer. With this in mind, we set out. The first panda we came to walked about a bit and then just sat in a Tyre and looked at us. He didn't really seem to fit the hippy-ish mantra on the sign by his enclosure: "love me, don't bother me." He looked more likely to say something like: "I've just spent the night being sexually molested by Chinese scientists. I'll be honest, I'm not in the best of moods. I just want to sit in my Tyre. And I want you to f**k off."

Having gleaned this information from his eyes, we moved on. And there he was, already in the midst of his ass-rubbing routine, and with an excitable crowd already gathered. We were there for about 5 minutes, and the whole time he rubbed his ass. I've even got video footage (I know that Murph (T) likes a bit of sexual panda). He began on a tree stump, which had the crowd a little concerned that it may disappear where the sun doesn't shine, before moving onto one of the legs of his climbing/lounging frame. A star is born.

There were also newborn panda twins in an incubator, who were only a few weeks old. Though, as me and Dave (a scouser from my hostel) discussed, they could just be painted rats, displayed to satisfy stupid tourists.

Then, in the evening, came the hotpot. It's apparently a Sichuan speciality (Sichuan being the province that Chengdu is in). I went out for this with an American guy, a Danish girl, and Dave the Scouser. Dave is just about to start a year in China as part of his degree (Oriental Studies at Edinburgh), and so has already done 2 years of Chinese. This made him the orderer. We eventually picked a restaurant, and took a seat. Built into the centre of the table was a massive burner, which would keep the large hotpot wok-thing hot throughout the meal. The way it all worked was that you ordered a bunch of ingredients, a spicy stock was brought out in the wok, accompanied by a few veg, and you then added the ingredients to the hotpot as you wanted them. When they're cooked, you fish something out with your chopsticks, dip it in some sauce, and eat it.

When the menu arrived in Chinese, naturally Dave was entrusted to sort it all out. Our only input was "just normal meat stuff. Maybe beef. Oh and some mushrooms would be good. And no weird things like heads or feet." Had we been able to understand Dave's conversation with our waitress, where he said "what would you recommend," and then went with that without understanding what it actually was, we wouldn't have been quite so surprised when the ingrediants worked their way out. Mushrooms, good; cabbage, ok; spring onions, fine; weird meaty clumps, should be alright; then something greeny brown, smooth one side and spiky on the other.
"WTF is that Dave?"
Dave puffs his cheeks, exhales and shakes his head, before composing himself.
"Looks like stomach lining or something doesn't it?"
"I tell you what it doesn't look like. It doesn't look like beef."
"It could be from a cow. And I think those clumps of meat are beef anyway."
"Don't you know what you ordered?"
"Some of it. I'm still not great understanding the characters. We did more ancient characters at uni. This is more modern stuff."
And then the piece de resistance. Wobbling in on a bed of lettuce, sliced into 4 quarters, a pink, slimy brain.
"Is that what I think it is??!"
"Umm....I'll just check the menu again....Of course, I should have recognised the character for brain. But it says it's brain flower. Not sure what animal that'll be from then. But you've got to try it haven't you."
"Nope."
And I was good to my word. I occasionally bobbed for some of the strange meat, or vegetables, but it was left to Dave and the Dane to eat the brain, and Dave alone to try the weird carpet thing. Both, apparently, were not that great.

The next morning, I set off for Leshan and the Giant Buddha.

written by  olliejohnson on August 19, 2006 from Chengdu, China
from the travel blog: A man from Cockshutt.
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The Giant Buddha

The Giant Buddha from across the river

I then walked back to the bus station for the half hour bus to Mount Emei (EmeiShan in Chinese), and my accomodation for the night.

written by  olliejohnson on August 21, 2006 from Leshan, China
from the travel blog: A man from Cockshutt.
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The mountain is one of 4 Buddhist mountains in China. That is, they are considered holy, and have temples built on them. Emei is the biggest though, and has a staircase all the way from the bottom to the top. It climbs 2,500 metres in the process. It is also famous for containing wild monkeys. These monkeys are something of an icon for the park (in which the mountain is contained) and were pretty much the main attraction for me. I'd heard many tales about them. Described variously as "about the size of pit-bulls" and "vicious little bastards", they are reputedly able to steal the bag off your back, let alone any food you may be carrying in bags in your hands. You are told to be ultra-careful against these little thieves, and the monkey protocol involves opening your hands palms down to show your lack of food. I had not heard, until I stayed at the hostel, that your walking stick could be used as a weapon/form of defence.

Written on the walls of the hostel were words of advice from previous travellers. A few stuck in my mind, such as:
- "there are supposed to be some lovely views. I didn't see any because I was counting steps (I'm autistic). There are 66,321."
- "a good tip for the monkeys: carry a rock with you and pretend to throw it at them. It should send them scurrying for cover. Of course, don't actually throw the rock...."
- and my favourite, written by brits proudly naming their homeland under their signatures, was this: "don't hit the monkeys too hard with your walking sticks. We did, and the poor chap died right in front of us..."

The more I thought about it, the worse it got. Especially the "we" part, which I hadn't even noticed originally. Surely it only takes one person to shoo away a monkey, especially if you're beating it with a stick. But two of you? That sounded more like a gangland killing. And how hard would you have to hit one to kill it??! I now had images of two men wielding their walking sticks like baseball bats, pounding an already wounded and immobile monkey to death on the floor, before kicking it off the path into the undergrowth. Needless to say, my expected encounter with the monkeys had already caught my imagination. And I knew where I'd find them. Andy had helpfully marked the 'joking monkey sections' on the map for me. I just hoped that they wouldn't nick my camera if I got it out to photo them. However, I now had a carte-blanche to beat them with my walking stick. What an opportunity! Just as long as I didn't beat them to death of course. But apparently even then it's ok. Such is the spirit that built an Empire!

I got the first bus the next morning to a section of the mountain that would allow me to get to a temple near to the top by the evening. Of course, Andy didn't recommend this, but what the hell did he know? Due to the nature of the first section of the mountain (going up and down in equal measures) it would still require a climb of well over 2,000 metres. Which sounded like a hell of a lot to me. However, being dropped off with a massive Chinese tour-group spurred me on to a lightning start. But the temple that we were dropped off at would be the last landmark I would recognise. Trusting in the nature of having to go up to reach the top of something, I pressed on regardless. The occasional piece of (hopefully) monkey-shit on the ground got me tense and ready for confrontation. But after 4 hours I'd found nothing.

It was at this point I came across a Chinese student. Desperate to know if I was on the right track, I foolishly asked him where we were on the map. I had apparently now made a binding contract to spend (at least) the rest of my day with him. After telling me I'd already gone 15 km, I thanked him and left, only to discover that he was already right by my side. Though it was nice to have some company for the climb and a translator, the constant stopping to have people take photos of us together had me slightly un-nerved. I conveyed to my new best friend my desire to see the monkeys. Did he have any idea what had happened to them? All he could say was that the monkeys were very bad, and I was lucky to have avoided them. He told me they would try and open my backpack. I proudly tapped the heavy-duty padlock that Mrs J had insisted I take. This impressed him.

Near the top we came to a sign telling us that this was a monkey area and to be very careful. Needless to say, I was ready for them. There was also a temple. I asked my friend what the sign on the temple said. He said he couldn't translate it. Jokingly, I said,"it's the monkeys temple?"
This was met with a deadpan face.
"No, temple for people. Monkeys in trees, people in temple."
"Right, right"
Long pause.
"So, no monkey buddhists then?"
"No. Monkeys in trees."
"Oh, ok."

And then we stumbled across them. What an anticlimax. They were just sitting there eating some fruit or something, with a small crowd of people trying to take photos without risking their cameras. Occasionally, one guy would go to the front with some dried flower, and show it to the monkeys. This, they did not like. Not one bit. They hissed, bared their teeth and backed off. I really, really wanted to get my hands on one of those things, but I had to settle for a few photos and no monkey fighting.

We were that close to the top by this point, that I thought we'd press on and do it all in a day, working our way down the next day. It's probably also worth mentioning the fog. This was so thick, that by the time we did actually reach the top, we couldn't even see the 20 metre high golden statue when we were standing right in front of it. There was just a golden haze. And the fog also meant no panoramic views. I did, however, manage to make a few people's days. By the statue there was a group of about 6 Chinese students - one lad and 5 girls. They wanted a group photo with me. I obliged, and then found out that each wanted 2 solo pictures with me too. So I stood there for about 5 minutes with this fixed grin on my face, while the students each took their turns pulling various poses around me, as though I was some kind of landmark. The usual 'V' peace signs; arms spread wide open; arms up to the sky etc etc. On the way back down, there were no free beds at the nearest temples, so I caught a bus back to the hostel from a nearby stop. The weather was even worse the next day, so I decided to head back to Chengdu.

written by  olliejohnson on August 21, 2006 from Baoguosi, China
from the travel blog: A man from Cockshutt.
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Guilin itself is actually a pretty nice-looking city - with 2 rivers and amazing limestone peaks (large sharp hills jutting up from nowhere) surrouding the city. As I began my search for flights agents to get my flight to Bangkok, I was soon joined by another Chinese student that wanted to practice her English. She translated for me at the agencies, and took me on a guided tour of Guilin's sights. This included a trip around a famous lake, which has bridges across it that are small replicas of famous bridges around the world; such as the Golden Gate bridge, the one that goes across the Grand Canal in Venice, and, bizzarely, the Arc De Triumph.

It was as we wondered around this lake, past one of the numerous street vendors selling live produce in nets or out of bowls of water, that I broached a subject that had been on my mind for some while.
"You see that bag of frogs? Is that for someone to eat?"
She smiled and looked a little embarrassed
"Err...Yes."
"Uh-huh. And what about snails? Do you eat them?"
She nodded, looking a little embarrassed again. But I was on roll. Screw the consequences, I wanted answers. Best get straight to the point.
"Right. What about dogs? Do people eat them?"
Another embarrassed laugh. Followed by a nod! Finally, an admission! Although she was at pains to point out that she had never eaten it, and then pointed out that with our different cultures some things may seem strange to each other, but we should try to understand that the difference is what makes us interesting. All true, but we don't eat man's best friend, and you do.
"And what about scorpions? In Beijing I saw them on sticks. It looked like it's ok to eat anything as long as it's on a stick."
"Scol-pon?"
"You know...", and I began an attempt to create an international sign for Scorpion. This involved using one hand to recreate the body and legs (wiggling fingers to indicate this), and the other to show the tail. I felt it was important to focus on the tail and its ability to sting. I even showed how my hand scorpion might use its tail to attack it's prey.
"....so its tail goes like that, and it kills things with it."
"Maybe if I see it I will know it."
Well I just bloody showed you it! And then it hit me. The pincers. That's why she didn't get it.
"Of course - it's got pincers too." Hands now morphing into pincers. "Pincers...see?"
"Ummm..."

On my return to the hostel, I met an English guy who had actually tried some dog himself in a specialist restaurant in Beijing. He said it tasted like a very tender beef. He'd also tried scorpion, which was apparently just like crunchy fried chicken.

I was just spending the one night in Guilin and was off to Yangshou the next day, where I'd planned to spend the best part of a week chilling out before flying to Bangkok.

written by  olliejohnson on August 24, 2006 from Guilin, China
from the travel blog: A man from Cockshutt.
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I soon found a decent hostel in Yangshuo which was in the middle of West Street, which is the main street in the town. The town itself is not that big at all, and it is very westernised, but it was perfect for me. This was definately somewhere I could stay and relax for a while. The bars were pretty busy, some had upstairs lounges where you could watch movies, and aside from all that, the town itself is in a beautiful location. There were lots of day tours to do various activities, or you could just hire a bike and explore on your own.

The main attraction in and around Yangshuo are the massive limestone peaks that dominate this part of the province. The Li River also runs through the town, and old people punt along on bamboo rafts. When I went down to have a look at the river, the road alongside it had been closed off with a heavy police presence. I stuck around to see what was going on, and then a very important-looking man in a suit walked past, clapping the crowd like a footballer coming off in the second half after a great game. Needless to say, I liked this guy's style. I later found out that he was the Vietnamese President.

After having to fish for the dog-eating admission in Guilin, I found that here in Yangshuo they are far more proud about it. I asked some locals about what type of dogs they ate. Apparently, it's not a normal one like Labrador or Poodle, but in fact a type bred especially for it's meat. I'm not sure whether that breed has a name, or whether it's just a 'meat' dog. Whatever it is, it's on the menus in restaurants and everything. In one it had 'Stir Fried dog. (Honest)'. I'm not sure whether this was as in, "Yep, it's dog. But at least we're being honest," or, "Honestly, it's dog." Either which way, I don't think the word 'honest' ever really bodes that well on a menu.

I'd managed to keep a bottle of Russian vodka with me up to this point, but it lasted no longer as me and some of my room-mates decided to sneak it out with us to make the night a bit cheaper, before heading to the night market. This was much like the one in Beijing, but less sanitary, with chickens and fish being variously killed and butchered right next to the woks. Delicacies on offer here included dried River Rat (which looked like a bat), snake, raw chikens' feet, and of course dog. We bought something that looked like an umbilical cord wrapped around a stick. The suspicion is that it might have been a skinned baby eel. Or maybe it was just an actual umbilical cord. It was fairly inedible.

The next day, me and a girl from my dorm decided to go bamboo rafting. We got a day's free bike rent with this to get us to the raft, and for us to explore the area afterwards. Having not ridden a bike for so long, I got pretty saddle sore and fairly terrified having to negate the Chinese roads. And, as I stupidly forgotten to put suncream on, or even bring it with me, I ended up with florescent legs and pin-striped feet. I knew it was happening, but there was no escape.

The trip itself was really cool, and we had a pretty funny driver/punter who started the day the way he meant to go on by necking a beer. After we got off the raft, we headed up to a place called Moon Hill, which has great views of the area.

I'd managed to find a cheap flight to Bangkok, so decided to go there next, and hopefully straight on to Chiang Mai.

written by  olliejohnson on August 25, 2006 from Yangshuo, China
from the travel blog: A man from Cockshutt.
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2. It's the Chinese who should have the reputation as the ones obsessed with tea. They drink it literally all the time. Even young people carry around thermos flasks of tea, just in case they wander too far from somewhere that serves it.

3. On approaching middle age, it becomes essential for Chinese men to pull up their t-shirts to just over their beer belly whenever they are slightly warm.

4. Driving like you want to die is a must for any bus driver who wants to be taken seriously. You must spend equal amounts of time on each side of the road, attempting to over/undertake vehicles that are smaller and faster, regardless of any approaching traffic. Instead of a brake pedal, you sound your horn.

written by  olliejohnson on August 30, 2006 from Yangshuo, China
from the travel blog: A man from Cockshutt.
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I'd heard that Chiang Mai airport was actually quite close to the city itself, so I stupidly decided to walk it when I arrived. Unfortunately, it was pissing down with rain when I arrived, but I decided to press on undeterred. I knew from my map that I had to walk roughly North-East, and I'd eventually come to a moat that pretty much marked the city centre. So I looked at the compass, and then packed it away in my backpack. As it was raining, I couldn't stop and unpack again to double check on route that I was still going in the right direction. But I didn't really see this as a problem, because once you know which way is North, it's not going to suddenly change is it? What I didn't take in to account is roads that bend. Up until now, most had been fairly straight.

An hour and a half later, and I should have hit the city centre by now, but, instead, I'm approaching a mountain with only a couple of shacks around me. Something had gone wrong. Fighting every manly instinct withing me, I swallowed my pride and asked around for directions, and eventually found someone who could understand me. She pointed back in roughly the direction I'd come from. I'd been heading West the whole time. 2 bours later, soaked to the skin, I made it to my destination.

Since then, I've had a great time here in Chiang Mai. I've visited the night market a couple of times, which is absolutley massive, and sells all sorts of things. You can pick up t-shirts for about a pound and trainers and sunglasses for just a bit more. I also spent an afternoon wandering around the temples in the city, and was lucky enough to be in one at a time when the monks had a chanting session (though one was on his Mobile at the start, which looked a little odd.) There was also a monk-school next door, where little wannabe monks learn their trade.

I then booked myself onto a 3 day trek up the mountains to the North of the city. Our guide, introduced as 'Jungle Jim', was an absolute legend, and kept us well entertained on the journey up to the village where we were staying that night. It was on the ridge at the top of a montain and gave some spectacular views. The villagers were really friendly, and we had an absolute feast cooked up for us.

As it began to get dark we were joined by 'Mr Whiskey', who brought what he described as moonshine, and the drinking games began. The main one we played had a penalty of a soot mark on the face as well as a shot, and we all got pretty wasted and covered in soot. Jungle Jim struggled the most, and had to quit about halfway through with various black smears all over his face. Together with his lack of upper front teeth, he would have looked a frightening prospect. This was confirmed soon after, as he wildly stumbled into the other groups' hut, babbling incoherantly and scaring the shit out of the occupants.

Mr Whiskey managed to last the night, and kept us very entertained with stories about being a guide up in the mountains. The best thing about Mr Whiskey was his very particular hatred of a nation. He detested Canadians. Coundn't stand them. He'd had too many experiences to think it was just bad luck. Apparently, it's pretty easy for the guides to make a 1 hour walk into a 5 hour walk, and he'd done this a few times for Canadian tourists. Luckily for us, we were Canadian free. Oleg, a young Israeli chap fresh from finishing his national service, caused great amusement when he thought the mosquito net above his bed was a hammock.

The next day, Jim showed us the village schoolroom, and we played a quick game that's like volleyball, except you use anything apart from your hands, and it's with a ball made from inter-twined bamboo. Then we treked to a couple of waterfalls, had a swim and then lunch. The hamlet we spent our last night at, was at the bottom of a valley, and next to a little river. The 'shower' was a little open-top bamboo cubicle, with a barrel of water and a saucepan. While I was in there, I saw some elephants mooching around in the jungle uphill from me. I suddenly felt like a proper traveller.

Next day we had a small walk to the elephant camp, and got ready for our ride. I'd heard that the ride could be a little uncomfortable if you sat around the neck, as the bristles on an elephant are very thick and wirey, and can cause a serious amount of chaffage. So I was only too happy when Oleg asked to be the one to go on the neck (though I felt a pang of guilt as he slide himself down wearing his 80's style short shorts.) I asked him whether he was comfortable, to which he gave a hesitant "I don't know" as a response.

Our elephant was a young, stubborn and slow female. And her name was Come, which I thought was quite an unusual one. The jungle walk itself led us up some almost vertical ravines, which we would inevitably have to go back down. Oleg suddenly said "I want down" to our guide, and before he even had a chance to reply, Oleg had swung his leg over and jumped off. This seemed to freak Come out a bit, which had me concerned too, as we were on a narrow path with a large drop to one side. I attempted to give her some vocal reassurance. She responded by walking upto and then ramming her head into the elephant in front, which then shat itself. The guides luckily managed to restore order as I was working out how best to survive a fall with an elephant in tow.

After the elephant ride, we got on a raft for some white-water action, which was really cool. Our guide let us out for a swim along a quieter stretch, which we enjoyed until a snake decided to skim across the surface amongst us. Obviously, I screamed like a girl and swore it was coming right for me before scrambling back into the boat.

Found a cheap guesthouse for the next couple of days, and then I'll be off to Laos.

written by  olliejohnson on September 5, 2006 from Chiang Mai, Thailand
from the travel blog: A man from Cockshutt.
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We stopped soon after, so that madam could hop out for 5 minutes and get the two of them (her and the driver) some snacks for the journey, which she then tenderley fed him, oblivious to the 9 bodies sat right behind them, unable to look anywhere else but directly at them. She snuggled up to him, he put his arm around her, and she nuzzled into his nook. He'd gaze into her eyes, and almost kill us all by veering off the road. Then she began getting a bit fresh. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say, the driver was given a bit of light relief. What the hell are you supposed to do with that happening right in front of you?! All I could do was put my Ipod on and pretend to read.

Full moon over Laos, reflection in the Mekong

On the slow boat down the Mekong

Me being fearless on the slow boat