THE WALL

My trip to Beijing started very badly. I walked out of the train station and into torrential rain, couldn't locate the bus I needed to catch to my hostel, and found that the taxi queue was about 100 people long. Quite literally. There were about ONE HUNDRED people lined up. I reluctantly stood in the queue for about 15 minutes, during which time only one taxi showed up to start shuttling the people in front of me. Tired and impatient, I decided to walk. In retrospect, walking on the streets of Beijing during a thunderstorm with zero knowledge of the language and very little idea of where I was going was probably not the best idea.

I had a map, which for many of you may have been a useful tool, but in my hands became quite meaningless. As soon as I stepped outside the train station I became completely and utterly lost. I couldn't tell one street from the next, the characters on the street signs were indecipherable, and the rain was coming down so hard my map quickly became a soggy mess. I wandered in the pouring rain for HOURS. Again, this is sadly not an exaggeration. I was actually wandering, lost in Beijing in the middle of a heavy downpour, for nearly two hours. Nobody on the street could understand English or help me get towards the place I was pointing to on the map. Oh, and did I mention I had no umbrella?

Eventually I found a tuk-tuk guy who screamed out at a passing student who ended up speaking a little English. I explained to her where I wanted to be, she told the driver, and insisted on jumping in the tuk-tuk with me to make sure I got there safely. At this point it's probably worth reminding you that I was completely drenched; I couldn't have been any more wet if I had jumped fully-clothed into a pool. She, on the other hand, was the picture of elegance underneath her umbrella. Why she offered to squeeze into an area the size of car boot with a drowned-rat and her soaking suitcase I'll never know. Once we screeched to a halt at the metro (which was much further away than I had imagined it to be), my Chinese Angel insisted on paying for the trip. I was completely overwhelmed by her generosity and kindness in helping me. Then to top it all off, despite having told me the metro was on her way home, she said her goodbyes and then hailed a taxi to get back to wherever she was heading before being dragged into the whirlpool of my disastrous morning.

Feeling overwhelmed by the kindness of strangers, I squelched into the metro and bought a ticket to the stop that looked closest to my hostel. I can only imagine what the other travellers thought as I stood beside them on the train, water puddling on the floor at my feet. After re-emerging above ground (still raining! joy!) I still had a 15-minute walk to reach my hostel. It was located in one of the few remaining hutongs in Beijing. Literally meaning 'alley' or 'small street', a hutong is a small neighbourhood of traditional courtyard houses and is a rapidly disappearing part of Beijing's cultural ecology. Given the splendid day I had had up until now, you'll not be surprised to learn that I managed to get lost among the interconnecting alleys in the hutong. And being rained on for two hours straight had me rather urgently needing the use of a loo. As I became increasingly agitated, I fleetingly toyed with the idea of dispensing with the use of a toilet altogether and relieving myself in the manner favoured by small children and crazy bag-ladies the world over (I was so drenched with water there would be no evidence) but alas, it wasn't in me. I decided instead to try my luck with a scary-looking hutong toilet block.

Relieved of my most urgent need, I was still dripping wet, miserable, dehydrated, and now sneezing and nursing a cracking headache. When I found the hostel and went to unpack my bag, I discovered that everything inside it was rain-sodden. Perfect. I had a shower and changed into a t-shirt that was only damp on the bottom half and managed to find some dry underwear hidden inside a wet shirt. The rest of my belongings I hung off the edge of the bunk and every other surface I could find in the dorm, before crawling under the sheets for a well-deserved nap.

I woke up a short while later, still unfortunately accompanied by my headache and sneezing. While I couldn't bear the thought of heading out in the rain again, I'd only planned two nights in Beijing so eventually I dragged myself out and made my way to Jingshan Park which overlooks the Forbidden City (photos above). Very impressive. Then I caught a bus home and went back to bed.

Walking the wall
I had already booked a bus trip to the Wall for the next day, meaning a VERY early start. I had two very sympathetic Chinese girls in my dorm with me, and after a bit of sneezing and sign language, they offered me what I assumed was cold or flu medication. I really had no idea what the little pills were, and I'm the sort of person who doesn't even take a Panadol unless it's under extreme duress, but I was eight hours away from hiking the Great Wall of China and felt like twelve layers of crap. So I took the pills.

And they worked! I woke early after a blissful sleep, packed my water and snacks for the day, and caught the bus that would take me out to the Great Wall of China (have you noticed how much I love saying that??). I'd opted for the more difficult of the wall segments open to daytrippers - Jimshangling to Simatai - and was a bit nervous about my fitness. I'd heard that there were parts in such bad disrepair you needed to climb around them, and that it was so tough that even guys with military training struggled. Rubbish. It was more often a climb than a walk, but it was fantastic.

The terrible weather of the previous day had lifted completely, and it was warm and sunny. I had taken some more wonder drugs that morning and while I still felt a bit crap, the euphoria of walking the Great Wall soon lifted me above the trials of a headcold. Yes I was still blowing my nose every three minutes, but I was blowing my nose on the top of the world!

It was a great day, and as I headed back to Beijing late that evening I found myself disappointed that I was set to leave the next day and train back to Hong Kong without having explored the city itself. So I decided not to leave after all. The fabulous Aussie couple I'd met in Xi'an had offered to let me stay with them should I need a place in Beijing, and after the horror and misery of my arrival in town, I decided to take them up on their kind offer. They had spoken so highly of Beijing, and all I'd seen so far was rain and traffic. I hadn't yet bought my train ticket back to Hong Kong, so booked a flight departing one day later instead.

Bicycling in Beijing
So my final day in Beijing was spent riding a bicycle around the lakes, through the streets, seeing a side of the city that I would never have thought existed behind the traffic-congested streets that I had glimpsed outside the bus window. B was a fantastic tour guide, and his love for his new home town was infectious. We met T for lunch, and later that night also had a great dinner with her dragon-boating friends. It was a lovely day, and my impressions of Beijing were changed so completely by that experience.

It was with a tinge of sadness that I headed off toward the airport the next day. Flying back to Hong Kong meant my trip was coming to an end, and though I was excited about finally returning to London I'd really enjoyed being back in Asia. Still, I intended to go out with a bang. I was planning that night to meet an old school friend who had moved to China a couple of years before, and was looking forward to much merriment in Hong Kong. First, though, I had to deal with Beijing International Airport...