Never I have come back from a location with such mixed emotions. The tibetan people are lovely

Take your pick of words to describe the plight the Tibetan people find themselves, bollocks,

Expecting a police state, you are still taken aback by the sheer presence of the police and military patrolling the streets and countryside only to be gob smacked by stories of triple the numbers only a few weeks earlier prior opening the borders for tourists. A five minute walk quickly encounters up to 40 police with five per corner and patrolling in fives packed with guns, broom sized batons, and knife sticks. On our trip, which we get to shortly, we drove past one convoy of 60 odd police trucks and a second with 36.

Only the most naive, and we met one on the train ride home, would think believe that they are making the lives of ordinary Tibetans better.

The Tibetans, living up to their friendly reputation, do not seem to take umbrage at the Hans as a people, only their corrupt and oppressive communist government. For me, it is hard not to feel angry at the han, a people who have only attempts to keep their government under country, is to find another corrupt tyrant(s) to take over.

Religion, politics, public servants, and all manner of security forces have power and they all contain examples of the worst people in history. Perhaps this is why people started anarchism? Anyway, back to the point. I expected more from bhudhist faith. I really, really, really wanted to meet peaceful, insightly, and genorours people and just hate the communist party.... It didn't happen.

For starters, there was no utopian society before the Chinese whatever a unwashed hypocritical hippy will tell you, these people lived in a fuedal society, basically slaves to the landed gentry and the monks.

I have no issues with not taking photo's in religious or sacred sights and having limited restrictions like Potala palace, but enough monastaries did not use either of these.

Not knowing much of anarchist philosophy, but I wonder if this is a good reason to believe. I don't know why, but for some reason, you expect more from buhdhist monk? Is is the Dali Lama, the apparent lack of a checkered past, or these airy fairy bhudhist in Australia bitching about free Tibet, but lacking the same compassion for other oppressed people?

A little bit of sunshine and party town

To paraphrase the foreign minister of Vietnam during the war in his conversation with Robert McNamara years later...

We were not pawns of the Chinese, we have been fighting them for a thousand years. We were fighting for our independence

If you wake up and find yourself living just outside a great expansive empire, be sure not to blink, or you'll quickly find yourself a part of it. China has officially 56 minorities with most living on the outskirts of the current incarnation. For these people, their unfortunate location has lead to a history full of conflict, whether fighting an aggressor or being in the middle of two enormous warring states. Maintaining their unique culture, customs, heritage, personality, and identity identity is a task not sneezed at.



The Naxi, centered around Lijang in the Yunnan province, are a quiet and pleasant people, for which, you wonder whether is a product of their beautiful and peaceful surrounds or in deference to the majority. With the persecution of the cultural revolution thankfully over, they find themselves in a strange new world, where tourists actually pay to see their culture and custom, albeit in that sickly sweet touristy way. Their clothing is both beautiful and intricate, albeit somewhat over utilised for the Han held cameras. The magnificent of the three pagoda's and their seemingly never ending array of temples is only matched by the enormity of the ticket price. The idyllic surrounds have seen many an expat setup shop or life to take advantage of the heavenly location. Although our time was short in both Dali and Lijang, it is clear that this is a must see place, but only in off season. The hordes of tourist is almost overbearing in Lijang and would become torturous in the height of summer.


Lounging about in the awesome hump hostel in Kunming, you quickly understand why this is (young) backpacker heaven. Great whether, good diversity of food, plenty of ex pats and backpackers fresh from Vietnam and Laos, and a night scene that encourages the excesses of the western backpacker produce many weary souls. For us, we unwound and of course had a few drinks whilst we arrange our onward tickets.

Go the underdog and one giant bhudda.

You save the things you love, and you love the things you understand

When the sun shines on you in China, life is almost perfect. Take the endemic Giant panda as an example, almost hunted to extinction before it captured the adoring attention of the world, thus changing it's fortune for ever. From all the available information, the Chengdu Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding is a seriously world class facility, where previously captive animals live in a well maintained and humane environment, and with any luck, get down to the business of saving the species. Of course, this being China, money talks, and their facility and probably survival is predicated on every bus load of han, korean, and Japanese tourists and the wealth it creates. Sure, some of the treatment in lieu of capturing a ooh and aah from a gushing tourist is midly questionable, and yes, count me as one of them, but compared to others, the Panda's have it made. And what makes me really happy after seeing these big fur balls of fun, is the underdog of underdogs, the forgotten red pandas who are riding the coat tails of their richer cousins to survival.




The province of Sichuan, home of the Sichuan beef you'll pick up at your local Chinese takeaway, has some seriously good and spicy grub. Their famous hotpot, a steamboat with a potent mix of chilli (and lots of it), soy, water and a variety of sauces to cook a variety of meats and vegetables is outstanding.

Chendgu, like any major city in China is seriously polluted, but like all Chinese cities visited thus far, the serenity and peace of a temple, garden, former palace are generally only a short distance away. Strolling the grounds of the Wuhou temple, infact a serious of temples mixed with gardens, ponds, and monuments is welcome escape from the noise, concrete, and neon of the bustling city that is Chengdu. It is almost otherworldly as you pass from one bueatiful scene to the next and the only noises are from the rustling of the leaves, birds, and the movement of water through ponds and moats.

It what is a centuries old pastime, we sat for an afternoon drinking tea and playing cards in the grounds of the Wuhou temple with the local denziens discussing business and gossiping over a bowl of nuts or a game of cards or majong.

Visiting leshan one our way back from Emei Shan, we checked out the impressive Leshan Giant Buddha, the the worlds largest at a lofty 71 metres. The ensuing journey home was memorable for its varied and timely transportation, taking 8 hours from emei shan to home, via a cable car, 5 busses, and two taxi's.

Emei Shan and marrauding macaques

Only being two hours south of Chengdu, Emei Shan, one of China's four holiest bhudist mountains and a world heritage unesco site, was a hiking opportunity not to be missed. Lodging at the foot of the mountain, albeit conned into staying at the wrong hotel, we enjoyed the manufactured, but tasteful serenity of the small tourist town of Baguo. I imagine years of experience with propaganda has made construction of these usualy dreary places quite easy? It must be noted, that with sizable bhudist populations in China, Korea, and Japan, these bhudist sites are often full, if not saturated with snap happy tourists who somehow don't see the irony in catching busses and cable cars instead of undertaking the time honoured pilgrammage and hiking up the mountain.

With an early start, we catch a mini bus up the mountain and begin our hike at 7:40, bypassing the first cable car, utilsed by all bar a few dedicated locals. It becomes quickly apparent that this park has been indentified as a tourism goldmine and a troupe of dedicated, albeit relaxed staff duitifully maintain the park and path leading up the mountain. The ascent, all 2000 metres of it, features dozens of monastaries and temples and is well served by a proper stair case　numerous snack stops and the odd restaurant, all seemingly in danger of falling of the mountain.

After 7 hours of hiking, we estimate 18000 stairs, and sacrificing my water bottle to a marraunding macaque, we reach the last monastary and the cable car to ascend the last 300 metres. Let me you, the misery was palpable, drizzle, wind, snow slush over the paths and not even enough degrees C to fill up one hand. Our tired, tired, tired legs wear screaming "Tomorrow, tomorrow". Our new found friends on the other hand, a bunch of 20 something university students, not carrying 10 kilo packs, were not. Seemingly dragged onto the cable car, we drearily pass through the misery and clouds to reach.... blue skies and sunshine?!?!?! It must be 20 degrees and the view, the bluest of skies over white dreamy clounds. UN - BE - LEIVE - ABLE!!!!! This is not what we were expecting, our guidebook is preaching an average maximum of 2 degrees and the view requiring nothing more than devine intervention. We quickly explore the snow covered mountain top and discover sculptured elephant statues leading us up the staircase to a 50 odd metre golden budha and a number of ancient temples. , oh and did I mention the view?

Our legs silenced, we marvel upon our fortune and start to wonder, what poor bastards a) lifted all this up the mountain and b) built these fantastic structures hundreds of years ago.

Splurging on possibly the greatest $80 room on the planet, we forgo the pleasure of bunking in a uninsulated monastary, for hot showers, central heating, and warm noodles. The next day and another 5:45 am wakeup call, we set out for the sunrise, which is apparently even better, but are hampered by visibility of less 100 metres. It must be said, after the previous day, we are certainly not dissapointed as we have truly witnessed something special and even spare a moment to pity the snap happy tourists who bus all but 2 kilomtetres (and complain) and miss this view.

Plagued by timing problems, we skip the downward hike and travel 8 hours by 6 busses, 1 cable car, and 1 taxi back to Chengdu.

City walls, people watching, and a city that has something

The soft sleeper, although packing the matress of your grandma's couch, was the perfect fit at 6'4 lad and an ideal way to travel from Shanghai to Xi'an. For sure, we were a curiosity and a surprise to the guards and locals, but the gawks and giggles are easily humoured or ignored. Gazing out the windows, you quickly notice bare or unutilised land is a rarity; Crops are sown side by side with bridges, roads, and telephone poles. Time without a factory appearing on the horizon seems like only minutes and the word cul de sac brings new meaning, when you see 30 identical highrise apartments in a row, housing possibly ten thousand people.

Xi'an as a destination, has it. An ancient city, housing the imperial capitails for nigh on700 years, it is full of history, architectural delights and wonders. Situated in the mid east of China, it is far enough away from the megatropolises of Shanghai and Hong Kong to retain some of it's Chineseness; albeit the mix of 20th century charm, markets, and minority culture versus the neon lights and sky scrapers, and shopping malls of the 21st. The retention of the smaller city walls, 40 metres high covering 13 square kilometres, adds a real authenticity that sometimes you feel is faked for tourists. The hui muslim minority add an interesting mix with unique food, dress, music, architecture, and more kebabs than you can poke a stick at. The local sweets, less sugar intensive than western standards are brilliant at 20c a pop。As a rule, most street food is fantastic, but let me teach you a lesson Children, eating goose feet are why we invented antibiotics. Being smart ars*s, we've taken to communicating in spanish with each other when bartering, this is, until one young attendents snapped "Cuarenta es loco" and game was almost hers, 'cept that I have my Dad's dutch bartering genes.

Engaging the services of a local guide, whose self proclaimed English name is Tiger King (no, not something I made up after a few drinks), we embarked on quick jaunt around the eastern sites in his spanking new SUV. First of, the terracotta warriors, a series of underground "pits" containing at least 8000 unique 6 foot warriors, 130 chariots, 520 horses, and 150 cavarly horses, all masterfully and uniquely sculptured, painted, holding weapons. Built in 210 BC for the first emperor as protection in the after life seemed like a good idea at the time, except he failed to ensure they were adequately protected in the current life. As per most commissioners of great work, he was a bit of a tool who didn't mind engaging in the odd war, rape and pillage, and using slaves, to well, build thousands upon thousands of masterpieces, then killing them to ensure their secrecy. As such, about ten years after his passing, his enemies conquered his kingdom and plundered his tomb leaving a decades of restauration work for today's chinese.

Let me tell you, the Big Goose Pagoda is a real treat. Fortuitiously arriving just before closing time, we virtually had the whole place to ourselves for sunset, bar the odd farting monk. Fantastic architecture, brilliant gardens, and a plethora of bueatiful paintings and sculputres.



Mount Hua, one China's sacred and national mountains, with temples, shrines, and pagodas atop of scenic peaks is lauded about throughout China resulting in about a thousand tourist each day and night; oh, and it is known as the steep one to the locals. Sound brilliant? Well yes, but I accidently booked a tourist bus for Chinese who intended to bypass the hardest sections by cable car, meander up the mountains, and had no intention of letting me go it alone. Now, I'm not sure weather it was my chinglish debating skills or my constant pestering, but I secured my freedom which resulted in one of my most one day memorable hikes. Part adrenalin, part defiance at besting the lazy bunch, part iPod, and part orios, I quickly slayed the additional 2000 metres ascent a passed my group to ascend the first peak treated to a very light snow fall. Adding further to the delight with each peak was either a temple, statue, pagoda, or monastry. I wonder if it will get to me in five weeks, but I was asked to pose in about 10 photo's and even a small group offering to guide me through the passes just because I was a tall westerner.

We sped of to Chengdu on a 17 hour train ridem, befriending a pair of locals, a 17 from near Urumqi and a 24 ex army dude with 2 girlfriends who we chinglished with.

Dumplings, smog, and progress?

You can't talk about Shanghai with a little history lesson. Basically a backwater until the 1830's, when a bit of old fashioned imperialism "allowed" the french and british to set up "concessoions" (read colonies) in the heart of shanghai, complete with their own juristinctions, police forces, taxation systems, even water companies. Firstly, it turned Shanghai into the new york or paris of the orient, a place to be, visited by the likes of albert einstein and u.s. presidents. Secondly, and predictably, with three juristictions, it became a haven of crinimals and prostitues, where evading the police, became simply a matter of crossing the border, earning it the moniker, the whore of the orient. Finally, it made the chinese second class citizens in their own country, which inevitably sows the seeds of discontent.

What happened next is history, the communists formented a revolution, tearing down any vestiges of capitalism, only to reverse course in 1990.

So, what is Shanghai today?
A sprawling megatropolis of 17 million with ubiquitous construction and smog, where a new york type skyscraper can neighbour urban squalor with squat toilets, yellow water, and less than basic hygene. The urban elite buy the wares of street vendors making less than 5 dollars a day, without any sign of discontent. Mao, a man seemingly revered in China for his socialist spirit surely would turn in his grave viewing the inequality that is Shanghia.
It boast a stunning water front "the Bund" with an array of 1880's - 1930's New York and Londonesque buildings inhabit by the party apparatik.
A french concession, filled with potentially romatic relics of yesteryear with numerous fine french dining opportunities.
Wonderous, simply wonderous street vendors line the street offering dumplings, asian styled pancakes, milkshares, and numerous other tasty and "unknown" treats.
If you can picture a 1920's Chinese city, it will be old town, with the typical asian architecture you expect to see on tv. Of course, it is lined with vendors peddling anything from tea, to t-shirts, to the little red book. A quick walk around the corner reveals the urban squalor that you come to expect, but rarely a snap happy tourist would see.
And what of the Shanghaiese? For a large metropolis, they seem a happy enough bunch, albeit a bit pushy when the mere mention of an orderly line. Odly, the salesmen and women aren't pushy by contempary standards. Oh, and they certainly do like to huck a loogee, yes, even the chicks.
Finally, can't forget to mention the remarkable digs Florian put up for us, even whilst he was sunning himself in Cambodia, leaving lock, stock, and barrell to us!

I was the unfortunate diner, after ordering a tasty turtle, only have the waiter explain they were out... Oh the nerve.

All in all, even though I could certainly live and work in Shanghai, I'm not entirely sure it has a soul? Perhaps it was lost during the revolution or push for modernisation, it is sort of like a room with too many colours that don't match. Sure, you like some, but together, they look rather odd.

Next, a 17 hour trip by train to Xian.

Ready, steady, go

The rucksack is packed, but not full. A little nervous about the hour between landing in Sydney, hopefully on time, and the rush to the international terminal. At Shanghai, an hour taxi ride will land us in an apartment of a traveling mate, who just happens to be traveling in Cambodia. We just hope his flat mate is cool and not put out by a pair of stinky backpackers.

Let's go.