Alrighty then! I’ve been kicking myself in the arse to do this for about a year now. I’m going to South Africa on the 6th October, so wanted to preserve the memory of my adventures in north India last year. And yeah, I suck big, floppy donkey d*ck for not interacting regularly on dA and drawing more. There's a good reason; IIRC, dA had a new format and layout introduced months ago, and it appeared to reset all my watched/watchers subscriptions (informing me of new deviations, journal entries, etc), so my apologies for going quiet!

I flew into Delhi with Etihad Airways; having read bad/mixed reviews about the service, I was unsure about my travel agents choice, but the pleasant flights, decent food and friendly attendants changed my mind. From the reviews, Abu Dhabi sounded awful with poor cleanliness and seating. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the toilets were clean (hurray!), the airport well-ventilated and the sound-levels had been reduced. While not as visually impressive and with limited shops in comparison to Dubai’s airport, Abu Dhabi is reasonable.

After stepping outside the airport in Delhi, it was a real shock to walk into what felt like a blazing hot furnace. Goodbye, unpredictable British weather. Hello, merciless heat-wave. My driver picked me up to drove to the tour’s starting hotel in another district about 40 minutes away. We travelled on dusty roads with the odd monkey sat bang in the middle; saw homeless people, dark-eyed cattle and stray dogs wandering freely on bypasses and under bridges; passed buildings with colourful Bollywood posters/advertisements peeling off their crumbling walls. We eventually reached Hotel Good Palace in Karol Bagh district. Throughout the day and night, the streets outside the hotel were teeming with peddlers selling salwar kameez (Punjab suit, a type of tunic and trouser set, sometimes with a scarf), backpacker gear, colourful glittering jewellery, sequinned bags, children’s toys and religious paraphernalia such as framed pictures of deities, necklaces and incense. It was smelly from time to time, too, with what smelled like ammonia/sulphur drifting up from hot garbage and grates.

As it was so hot and humid, I became thirsty quickly. Fortunately, I’d equipped myself with bottled water sold by the hotel. There were so many people walking on the streets (the majority were men, who outnumber women by a great many in India) and peddlers/shops selling the same items, it was disorientating to walk about; nearly all the streets and buildings looked the same. Alone, I was unsure of where to go for dinner so I became a spoilt tourist and indulged in room-service. The hotel wasn’t that good, with its interior stripped to the raw foundation, the constant banging of hammers outside and the strong stink of kerosene wafting in through the ventilation shaft, (no-one in the group was expecting heavy renovation and to make things worse, the owners gave the impression that they didn’t care). However, the food was excellent. For dinner, I had a medium spicy mutton rogan josh served with two chapattis; a decent price, even with the service charge. The meat was so tender and the ingredients full of strong flavour.

Next day, accompanied by Monica (Portuguese) and Wendy (Australian), I headed to the ATM to pull out money for the local payment and have lunch. In between dodging the random torrential showers, we walked around, looking for a good restaurant. We were recommended a place called Suruchi, where the all-male staff wore gleaming white tunics and trousers with a red turban which was styled to drape loosely over their back. While they had a limited vegetarian menu, the food was high quality. For drink, I had authentic sweet lassi (which tastes very different to the bottled fruit-flavoured stuff you get from restaurant suppliers like Mumtaz) and for lunch, a dish called Gujarati Thali, which consisted of a tray with eight sauces which had ingredients in like chutney, lentil pea and mint. You dipped roti and other types of light Indian bread into the sauce. I had Gulab Jamun for dessert, a fried cheese dumpling drenched in sweet syrup, which was nice but sickly.

Later, we met up with our group; we were due to see the buildings in old Delhi, like the Red Fort and Jama Masjid (Delhi’s oldest mosque) but because of the terrorist bombings, it was safer to visit the less crowded places. We went to Raj Ghat, where Gandhi’s ashes are kept in a beautiful, well-tended square garden enclosed by walls draped with flowers; the Crafts Museum on Purana Qila Road, which was fascinating with life-size imitations of ethnic tribes’ houses/meeting buildings and a wide array of items to buy like tunics, studded belts, pashminas, textile throws, papier-mâché sculptures and folk-style paintings. We briefly visited the popular-with-backpackers district, Connaught Place and had dinner at Cross Roads restaurant, where I had a lovely Tandoori chicken with a garlic naan and masala tea (very nice drink; sweet and spicy with cardamom and other spices). When I had a shower later, it was rather gross seeing the black dirt which gathered on the shower floor… for the good or ill of your skin, Delhi makes you sweat hard.

It was an early start to the morning the next day; due to the bombings, we caught private taxis to Delhi train station. While the streets were quieter than later in the day, people were stirring from their slumber and donkey-driven carts loaded with fruit and other cargo congested the narrow roads. We got to the train station in time, and boarded the train to Kalka (our carriage was comfortable and modern), which was to be a five hour journey. As we sped through the vast city of Delhi, it was disconcerting and a wake-up call as to just how crammed and poor India is. We were informed that not all people who live in the slums of Delhi are local, that some come from further afield in the hopes of finding a better source of income. Fairly close to the train tracks I saw people squatting in the middle of a flat, garbage/raw sewage strewn yard – going to the toilet, not bothered about the lack of privacy (something we take for granted in the West); children playing near stagnant pools of water with goats and pigs grazing near them; beautifully tended flat agricultural fields with huts made of hay for storage; industrial plants, some abandoned and others bustling with activity and emitting smoke from chimneys and all kinds of contrasts of living.

Eventually, we reached Kalka where we boarded the World-Heritage listed “toy-train.” The small, narrow carriages were Spartan compared to the train we were on previously; the interior was a peeling white and the seats were cushioned for basic comfort. Our journey was estimated to take five or more hours. Ascending mighty hills covered with verdant foliage and slender trees with rough, reptile-like bark, it was a stunning view to look down ravines and into the valley, and a relief to feel the temperature lower to a pleasant, fresh coolness. It was slightly hazy, too, which gave an almost celestial feel as to where we were. The only thing that was troublesome was the toilet; a small cubicle with no source of light, the floor glistened from outside and it made me anxious. I didn’t want to feel ill so went anyway; it was so annoying whenever the train went into a long, dark tunnel as it blocked out the tell-tale glow of daylight reflected off the train-track; I paused when this happened as I didn’t want to ruin the magical toilet experience for anyone by spraying everywhere but the hole.

Our antiquated train reached Shimla and we disembarked to catch a lift on some mini-buses. It was a steep walk to get to them, especially with heavy rucksacks on our backs. Set on steep hill slopes, the buildings and roads were narrow; however unlike Delhi, the traffic was more orderly here. We stayed at Hotel Silverine, a pleasant enough place located in the centre of Shimla (which is spread out across the vast hills), overlooking a deep ravine. Troops of monkeys paced outside the hotel grounds, clambering on the long trees. We had the group dinner on the rooftop, and it was cool enough to don a sweater… I chose my mum’s snug, grey Japanese shawl – which people said they could feel warm emanating from it. I had spinach with a dish called Palace Mutton, and found out by experience that the mutton was actually goat. I love goat’s milk, but dislike the slimy texture and bland taste of goat meat. Had a slight case of Delhi belly and to reduce the possibility of stomach upset, I decided to choose vegetarian dishes and drink lassi and bottled water.

Next morning, we walked to Jakhu Temple, which is dedicated to the monkey-faced god, Hanuman, revered for his intelligence and loyalty. The trail was long, steep and twisting, taking us about forty-two minutes to reach the temple. Due to the higher altitude and steep slope, I had to stop for breath every forty metres or so. The temple was set in a lush forest with many monkeys scampering about; large males, mothers with very small (and adorable!) babies and squabbling youngsters. To my surprise, the temple was small and looked more like a shrine; the outside was tan-coloured with plaster-reliefs depicting Rama, Sita and Hanuman. Inside was lavishly decorated with vivid, red carpets and vibrant paintings depicting Hanuman’s role throughout the Ramayana (the Rama, Sita and Ravana story). Before entering the temple, as per custom, we left our shoes in a small outbuilding. There was a smaller building where devotees bowed, struck a bell and paid their respects. I chose not to go inside this shrine, instead standing guard over my comrades’ shoes with Tracey, a Brit-turned-Kiwi and former travel-agent now travelling around the world on a career-break. Down-to-earth and vivacious, we got on really well and laughed a lot; I came to see her like an older, worldlier version of me, different but complementary, and that was so satisfying. Moving away from the soul-searching, the young monkeys and adult males were eyeing us curiously, expecting food. A youngster lunged for my foot, I instinctively flinched back and it hissed at me, so I puffed myself up and glared at it, making it whimper a strange, cooing noise of uncertainty. Looking very much the kick-ass adventurer, Tracey was armed with a pointed, gnarly stick, which she swung calmly at two aggressive, large males. “Don’t come any closer, you little shits!” LOL. Unsurprisingly, they backed off.

I would have loved to take a picture of a mother with her babies playing, but these monkeys, used to humans and having their way, are too bold and aggressive to risk pulling out your camera. While they do forcefully take stuff from people and bare their fangs, we were told they don’t bite. Kind of funny how some of us are afraid of smaller (usually harmless) creatures, but I guess our fear is based on pain and fear of the unknown; say they have rabies or some other nasty contagious disease. Later in the day, we walked through Shimla and it was fascinating. The town centre resembles a set from Disney, with perfect-looking old-style houses, cobbled flat-paved walkways and tidiness. Shimla is the shortened form of Shyamala, another name of the ignorance-destroying goddess, Kali Ma, who is venerated greatly in this area of India. My sweet-tooth, as strong as ever, goaded me to acquire a few lovely if sickly Indian sweets, made from milk, spices and nuts. The sweets are fine from proper sweet-centres, as they use mineral water.

We headed to the Viceregal Lodge, which was built in the 1800s by the British. They ruled the entire Indian subcontinent from Shimla, and governors and officials used it as their summer headquarters as the rest of India would have been scorching. It was very misty and the walk was longer than expected; the gothic-style, sprawling architecture surrounded by curling fog would have made a fine setting for a horror film. Inside was slightly dim, and beautifully furnished with wooden panels of Burmese teak wood. Unfortunately, due to preserving the building’s features and original colours, photographs were prohibited. Also, as the building is used as a library and learning institute, we remained quiet throughout the guided tour. In the various rooms, they had old-style wooden furniture decorated with lattices and photographs showing when partition was drawn. Afterwards, Wendy and I went browsing as well as to fulfil our daily goals; I went to a tailors and had a long-sleeved salwar-kameez commissioned for myself; a vibrant peacock-green, the cotton fabric had multi-coloured blossoms embroidered on it. I was anxious as to what the end result would be like and whether the clothing would be delivered to my hotel (the shops closed at 9pm) or if would magically disappear. That would have meant losing about thirty pounds. It was nearing 8:30PM and I was on the verge of ranting to Wendy about never trusting any tailor again, when a phone-call let me know my delivery had arrived. I was pleased with it, though the baggy pants had no tie-string…

It was a long drive to Mandi by private, air-conditioned taxis the next morning. The scenery was amazing, with thick forest carpeting the rolling hills and stark blue skies above… though the roads weren’t at all endearing. They were so windy and had sharp bends, so most of us felt rather nauseous throughout the journey. Fortunately, we stopped for a break at a nice enough restaurant; as we had another few hours ahead, we had something light such as a glass of lassi. I felt slightly better afterwards, though my bum was aching due to sitting for such a long duration. Located on the Beas River and once part of the salt route to Tibet, Mandi is a small, bustling town. Due to the close-knit buildings and quaint cobbled roads, it has been dubbed the Venice of India. After depositing our belongings at the Raj Mahal hotel, we had a guided tour around the town, visiting the small temples dedicated to Krishna, Rama and Shiva. The layouts were spacious and attractive, though some of the figurines looked a bit tacky in their garish glory.

My favourite temple was located further out the town near a bridge; unlike the contemporary temples in town, this one was built similar in style to the ruins at Angkor Wat (in Cambodia). The stone carving was impressive, with voluptuous statuettes and decorative walls. It was amusing when we walked onto the bridge as Tony, a New Zealander who had his glasses forcefully taken by a monkey in Shimla, noticed a large monkey sitting on a pillar above our heads. Wanting to go on the offensive, Tony pointed his umbrella at the creature and it immediately tensed and glared at him. Roughly fifteen minutes later, when we returned across the bridge, the monkey remembered him as it just stared at him for a long time afterwards. Down a set of chunky, white steps which led down to the river, there was a bathing ghat with a few monkeys hanging about. We passed a cremation ground which consisted of a plain concrete platform standing six metres high with two body-sized slabs on top. Usually, one body is burned at a time and a Brahmin priest must be present. The ashes, or whatever remains, are placed into the river to join God. Anand, our tour leader, told us more about the unpleasant and outlawed practice of sati (widow-burning). The widow was made to lie down first, then wooden logs would be placed atop of her (to prevent escape), followed by the husband’s body and then the pyre would be lit. Fortunately the British outlawed it, though the practise is still done in rural areas. We enjoyed dinner with our host (the former Raj) at our hotel’s restaurant, and it was excellent value for money. The old man was very charming and was fond of testing us with illusory tricks on paper and a variety of word-plays.

It took us six hours to reach Dharamsala, home of the Dalai Lama, the next day. We travelled by private taxi, driving on narrow, winding roads flanked by quaint wood-panelled houses and passed wandering dogs and cows and people wearing colourful garments. There was the bombardment of smells such as hot garbage, diesel and fresh bursts of mountain air as our scenery fluctuated between waterfalls tumbling between lush foliage and over jagged slopes to busy streets crammed back-to-back with shops and vendors selling what looked like plain bread rolls. We ascended to Mcleod Ganj, where the altitude took us above the lesser clouds. Dharamsala is a very relaxed place, popular with tourists – especially of the Westerner variety. Despite the new-agey fluff, it retains a pleasant, strong Tibetan cultural influence and the people are generally very friendly and welcoming. We stayed at Hotel Natraj, the latter another name for Shiva’s Lord of the Dance aspect, Nataraja. The hotel was conveniently next to shops and stalls selling colourful, beaded pashminas; heavily embroidered wall-hangings and cushion-covers; bracelets made from jade and yak bone; chunky Tibetan silver jewellery with inlaid turquoise and semi-precious stones; gemstone wands for healing chakras, to books about Tibetan Buddhism’s teachings. Delhi belly insisted on accompanying me, so for lunch, I had sweet-corn soup.

Later, we went on a guided tour around the local monastery to see the Tibetan Buddhist scripture archive; it was beautifully laid-out in the main room. Kind-faced deities with many arms sat in serene contemplation, and the walls were painted in soothing tones of blue and green, depicting hundreds of golden-skinned sitting Buddhas. While the exterior of the monastery was generally plain, the trees growing through the spaces in the concrete platforms lent it a softer atmosphere, and the saffron/maroon robed monks walked quietly through the complex grounds, some stoking the prayer wheels into motion. That place had magnificent views of the surrounding hills and lush valleys. The day after, we were free to explore and I brought two average-sized wall tapestries, decorated with beads, sequins and unique threading, for 850 rupees (about £5.50 each at the time) and two pendants. Monica, Tracey and I were up for a pampering and headed into Synergy for a full body Ayurvedic massage. It was awkward having to strip off nearly everything before a complete stranger; much more so having them put their hands on me. I was giggling in embarrassment and the attendant seemed to find it funny, too. Ah, well. After we headed out, the tell-tale symptoms were evident; glowing faces, stiff movements and oiled hair. Nearly everyone stared at us in the streets. Argh! It was difficult to remove all that oil, even with multiple shampoo rinses. I really enjoyed the Tibetan food I had, from momo (they’re like fried Chinese pastry-dumplings) to noodle with mutton soup. Mmm! I love food rich with subtle flavours and plenty of moisture.

During our time in Dharamsala, we visited the Norbulingka Institute, which encourages and trains Tibetan refugees to continue the traditional arts and crafts of their homeland. The layout of the Institute was attractive with a Zen-like garden with channels carved into rock to stream water through greenery, and the grounds also housed a temple and shop (which had many beautiful, expensive items). It was fascinating to see the process of thangka painting, too. We also paid a visit to the Tibetan Institute of Permorming Arts to see a traditional folk-style dance with powerful, heavy percussion accompanied by clear, high voices. The dancing was equally as impressive, with very smooth if demanding movements. When we came out, the sky was magnificently dark, illuminated by hundreds of glowing blue stars. For me, it was an unforgettable sight and humbling.

We headed to Dalhousie the next day, and it took roughly five to six hours. We drove past vibrant green valleys with immaculate terraced fields, small huts, white-marble shrines and open-air primary schools full of children. There was the familiar, impressive sight of the snow-capped mountains (which we saw in Dharamsala) and they appeared closer as we neared Dalhousie. We drove around tight bends (very scary, considering that most Indian drivers drive fast and recklessly) in-between looming red rock and over hills; the red cliffs were beautifully rugged, and a stark contrast against the bright green of the pine trees. There were troops of monkeys scattered about, and men ushering on herds of solid water-buffalo and shaggy-haired goats on the roads. On our travels, there were no toilet facilities available so our driver stopped, got out and walked a distance away as we went to the loo at the road-side. My fellow lady travellers formed a barrier in case any passing car got a glimpse of bottom. It was hilarious having to stand in a line, going to the loo; it all felt so school-boyish and contrived. Dalhousie was like a quieter, less populated and more remote version of Shimla. We had lunch at Napoli Restaurant, and I had some delicious chicken momo. The altitude was high again, and it was colder, darker and mistier than Dharamsala. When we went on an orientation walk, there were many people standing about in the town-square and a man was wailing to a woman. Anand told us that a young boy and his father had died; as a result, the few shops would be closing early. We brought snacks and drink for our trek to Khajjiar the next day, and we were warned of the temperamental weather in the mountains. We stayed at Hotel Spring which like the starting point hotel, was undergoing extensive renovation… people were starting to get very unhappy as the tour-notes didn’t say anything about renovation going on after the monsoon season. There was a thick layer of grey dust nearly everywhere and slabs of rock were being hauled about. Tony, having suffered enough, confronted Anand in front of everyone. He had a point, but I think it would have been better to talk with him in private rather than in the lobby. Much later on, a few others as well as I asked Anand if he was going to be okay; he looked so sad, like he was going to crack under the pressure of travelling with an increasingly disillusioned group. He appreciated our gesture and cheered up afterwards, so that felt good. It was at this time I caught a cold, so I was wheezing and sneezing a lot. Urgh… people asked me if I still wanted to do the trek, and while I felt like crap, I came on the trip for trekking, and that’s what I was going to do.

We got up early the next morning and those people who were doing the main trek made sure our daypacks contained bottled water and basic necessities, like tissue paper. We sent our rucksacks in the jeeps and drove to our picturesque trekking point, starting in a slightly hilly area with alpine forest and a few locals’ wooden houses. After Tracey and the others who weren’t participating in the trek wished us well, we marched into the forest. Walking ahead of us there was a small group of short, weathered-looking women clad in dark-dyed aprons, wielding machetes and small scythes; they eventually vanished down another path away from us. The trail was gentle at first, meandering over grassy knolls with majestic pines looming over us. Eventually, the path began to ascend and became narrower; if it had rained, our trek would have been much harder and possibly been cancelled. While the conditions were favourable (dry, sunny and clear), the trek was still demanding. Having a cold made me extremely thirsty and weakened, particularly when going uphill. While they weighed down my daypack, I’m glad I took three bottles of water… even if it was embarrassing having to frequently stop for breath and gulp down a mouthful or two. Fortunately, everyone was patient and understanding, and appreciated that I was feeling rough. If my cold had been worse, I would have caught the jeep onto Khajjiar. Our trekking guide was quiet but very helpful. We went up and down (which was a strain on our kneecaps) on steep, crumbling slopes strewn with dry dead grass; a pretty, but small farming settlement with terraced fields near a bubbling river, and uphill again – over the Lakhar Mandi pass.

It was fantastic being out in the calm, forest-clad mountains and under the unpolluted, azure sky. So peaceful, though I regret to say I didn’t fully absorb my surroundings as I was concentrating on my footing and regulating my breathing, to avoid fatigue. The others said we’d made good speed, and Helen (a very sweet, young British student who’d finished uni) turned round to face me and said that despite me being ill, I showed real will-power to do the trek. Quite a compliment! We stopped for lunch near a bulky, concrete bridge over the river and sat down on the rocks to munch away at our packed lunches, eyed by our new friend – a healthy-looking, friendly stray dog. Our trek resumed afterwards, and it took two hours to reach Khajjiar, dubbed the Swiss Alps of India. The path eventually changed from a fun challenge to flat and laid-back. An expansive green meadow, with free-roaming cows, dogs and Zorbing balls, greeted us as we emerged out the forest. It was at Hotel Mini-Swiss that we were reunited with the others. While I was tired from the walking, I felt strangely good. After we got cleaned up in the shower, we sat down for dinner in the restaurant and looked out the window towards the distant peaks. Pink-gold clouds dusted the tops of the mountains in a pale sky; it was beautiful and almost unreal. Sadly, my camera battery was flat and needed recharging, so no photo of the sunset. After dining and having languid conversation, I headed up early to the room I shared with Tracey. We just got on so well that Anand noticed and paired us together. As I had a cold, my sleep was disturbed. During the night, Tracey made a sheepish sounding “Ahem,” and I assumed my Darth-Vaderesque breathing was keeping her up. Indeed, I was snoring (she told me the following morning, but assured me I didn't normally snore). Consequently, I changed sleeping position on our honeymooners’ bed, and then she did a belly-flop onto my side, making me snigger and roll the other way. Turns out that I was also tugging away her share of the blanket during my brief spells of sleep. Oops.

We got up early to make the trek from Khajjiar to Chamba Valley. However, this walk was on generally flatter ground (though it was rough and uneven in parts, and pebble-strewn). The pace was relaxed and fun as we went through a small village and passed a school in which these young children peered over the balcony and some rushed to the closed gate, enthusiastically greeting us, before being ushered back to their seats by their unimpressed teachers. We reached a town where we caught two buses (leaving our friendly stray dog behind) to our farm-stay accommodation. Stopping off by the roadside, we looked up to Orchard Hut, an attractive wood/mud lodge set on a steep slope overlooking the green valley. It was a steep walk on the thin, winding path which was crumbling in parts. We passed fields buzzing with cicadas, and long-haired goats munching on plants. Our lodge’s location was not near to the road and would be unsuitable for a disabled traveller.

After thirty or so minutes, we came to a flat garden where the others from our group and a plump, kindly faced Indian gentleman, Prakash Dhami, and his daughter awaited us. Beckoning us to sit down, his daughter carried a tray, waving a burning candle in an ornate lamp before our faces before painting a scarlet teekha down our foreheads. A traditional pahadi greeting done for thousands of years, the welcome ceremony was shortened for our convenience. We were then given a handful of dried coconut flakes (mixed with spice) to eat, which was nice, but I prefer rasmalai/khoya barfi. Our rooms were basic (no TV, radio, etc) but beautifully furnished in a rustic style. While the beds were attractive, they were frickin’ hard; when you’ve done hours of trekking, a hard bed makes your worn-limbs feel bruised. Ack! Our host and his family were so friendly and accommodating; they grow their own produce in the surrounding hills, and Orchard Hut is ideal for a retreat from the bustle and noise of society. We had purely vegetarian food, which was crisp, tasty and usually healthy, with the exception of the oily crepe-like bread which was served at breakfast. There was a fresh spring-water pool and taps which you can drink directly from without contracting some nasty stomach-bug. Having drunk bottled water for nearly all the duration we’d been in India, we were unsure about suddenly switching to water straight from the tap, but our fears were unfounded as it was fine.

Our time in Chamba Valley was for a session of relaxation; I was so worn, but satisfied, having done the two major treks. I hung out on the veranda, admired the scenic rolling hills of the Himalayas and chatted to friends while rocking gently on the hammock (until my ankles were trickling with blood from pesky sand flies; why can’t they leave tidy bites like mosquitoes!?). For fun, I had henna patterns on both hands done by our host’s daughter and while Helen hated her result (they weren’t fine, delicate lines but blocky marks), I wasn’t expecting it to be a masterpiece. For S&G, I had palmistry done, which featured the usual cold-reading tactic of being asked a question then having the obvious confirmed back to me. During my time at the lodge, I went on a walk with a few others on a narrow path around the outlying fields, and we edged around from time to time, avoiding falling into the deep pits (about four metres deep) used for crops, to see a small shrine dedicated to Shiva. Sitting on a quiet grassy hill, it was lovely to overlook the valley, the town, and feel time pass by. Mr Dhami told us a few stories which were amusing and witty, but they seemed more like a mixture of fact and fiction. It was interesting when it came to having a shower; I had to ask for a bucket of hot water to be boiled from the kitchen to be brought down. The outdoor toilets (Western-style!) and shower cubicles were basic and decent enough, until night came. The lights attracted huge moths and spiders, which would scuttle in when possible. This sounds silly, but I was reluctant to use the toilets at night when people were sleeping as there were dense bushes near the toilets (which were metres away)… you see all these horror movies where someone goes alone to the washroom, then they die horribly. Fortunately, neither masked killers nor tigers came charging out the undergrowth.

On the final morning of our stay at Orchard Hut, we exchanged farewells before catching jeeps; one to take people directly to the train-station and the other to go straight to the city of Amritsar, located in the Punjab. It was at this point that someone on the tour had caused a rift within the group with her negativity and rude attitude, so most of my fellow travellers ignored her (when possible). I wanted to be with the fun bunch, so went in a jeep. We stopped for lunch at a restaurant by a bridge, and had another variation of the vegetarian Thali, which was very nice. Then Tracey and I felt like using the toilet, a small cubicle on a higher slope; Helen came out, wrinkling her pretty face, advising us it was useable, and to avoid slipping. We didn’t fancy dodging slop, so instead dropped our pants behind the restaurant wall for a wee… two teenaged schoolgirls marched past, their eyes bulging in disbelief as we pulled back our pants in time. One of them stammered “There’s no toilet there!” Normally, I would use the public toilet, but the ground beneath was bare and strewn with some litter. We drove on a scenic route, beyond flat plains cut into the foot of lofty green hills and snow-capped mountains, seeing more open-air schools with children studying hard in the shade.

We reached Amritsar, and I was unsure whether I’d like it; it was like a watered down version of Delhi. When looking at the horizon, the sky was a dull grey and a few metres above ground-level, a blurred thick line of grey seemed to dissect the smoggy grey from the bright blue. A bit disconcerting, to think of the pollution trapped where you breathe the air from. Later in the day, we reunited with the others and proceeded to the Sikh Golden Temple to observe the book ceremony (where they lay it to rest for the night). We paired up; hitching a ride in a cycle-rickshaw, and it was exciting and hilarious. The journey was crazy, with us hurtling around the roads and roundabouts, people greeted us with big smiles. Tracey and I were looking respectably glamorous, with her donning a pink silk pashmina around her head and me wearing my green salwar kameez complete with turquoise scarf. We had a real laugh and heart-to-heart as we dodged traffic and exchanged greetings. Arriving at the Golden Temple, we left our shoes with the wardens and walked beneath the glistening white archways, submerging our feet in the shallow pools of water (which were starting to look slightly muddy; but hey, I still had healthy feet). There were many people about, and while there was no suffocating bad BO, there was the clammy smell of many hot bodies. The Golden Temple was stunning, with beautiful white marble walkways and Islamic-style latticed arches and balconies. The people were very friendly and the vibe of the place was overwhelmingly positive and welcoming; children and their families came up to greet me, smiling, and asked if I could take their photo. I found the people of Amritsar, like Dharamsala, to be generally lovely. Much later in the evening at the hotel, I sat with Monica and Tracey, and we noticed that Anand had been rather quiet, and somewhat unsociable, over the past few days. We talked to him and he said he’d felt like packing in being a tour guide, with how unhappy he’d felt at facing an annoyed Tony and rather negative Kate. Once again, he thanked us for being supportive and consoling him.

On our second day in Amritsar, we visited temples which were very impressive and beautifully decorated; one was even like a set from Indiana Jones with man-made tunnels, which had us wading through ankle-deep water, and the next section was like a maze, flanked by sequinned walls shimmering with mirrors (cut in the form of hundreds of swastikas) and colourful murals depicting gentle-featured gods and goddesses. I brought a black-and-gold poster depicting Kali Ma, Durga and Devi, loving it for the symbolism and what they represent. While Hinduism, like other faiths, does have bad elements, I like its pluralistic (i.e. open-minded) outlook and philosophical aspect. Their artwork and sculpture is amazing, too. Later, we headed out to Jallianwallah Bagh, site of a massacre in 1919, which was at the same time fascinating but very sad. It made me feel ashamed to be British. While some Indians retaliated against the British in equally despicable ways, the massacre was considered to be heavy-handed and it turned moderate Indians into nationalists. A garden had been set around the still-standing pinkish buildings which had bullets embedded in the brick, and there was a main pillar in the centre constructed as a memorial, as well as a small outbuilding with the portraits and descriptions of individuals who had a prominent role at Jallianwallah Bagh.

In the evening, we journeyed to the India-Pakistan border to witness the daily flag ceremony. Unexpectedly, it was great fun with a light atmosphere and loud, Indian pop and national music. The men and women were separated on different sides (for both social and safety reasons) and we sat on the concrete rows to see colourfully-dressed Indian girls dancing to the music on the main alley. As their commander bellowed long-sounding orders, tall soldiers wearing smart khaki attire marched up to the gate where the dark-robed Pakistan border guards stood waiting, and there was a sharp exchange of gestures and stiff postures. While the show came across as humorous, it’s used to illustrate the aggression/tension between India and Pakistan. After the show had finished, we headed back to the city and caught the overnight train to Delhi. I went top-bunk; there’s just a feeling of security up there and I like clambering up rails, too. There was lots of laughter and wild joking in our carriage, though eventually we were told to quiet down… people wanted to sleep around 9pm. It seemed to take ages to fall asleep as I’m used to bunking off around midnight or shortly after. While the train toilet was fine, the basin was in a disgusting state with phlegm spattered against the sides… it made me feel somewhat ill. Bet you it was a man who left it there.

Our train was delayed slightly as we arrived before noon in Delhi; I felt groggy and we had a final, team-meal breakfast at a brilliant Western-style café. The food and drink was excellent. We said our goodbyes to Anand (who went riding off under the midday sun in a cycle-rickshaw) and I hung around the city quarter with Monica and Tracey as the others used my room (which surprisingly was mine at the start of the tour) to wash up and get ready to leave. When I returned, there was an unpleasant smell of sweat and damp, dirty towels. What pissed me off later in the day was that after everyone had left, I asked the management if someone could clean up the room… no-one came up, even after I reminded them and asked if it was possible to move into an unused room, to which they said no. Nobheads. Anyway, after Tracey left to meet her new group, Monica and I went for lunch at McDonalds, browsed the markets then headed back. After Monica left a few hours later, I felt a kind of emptiness as the camaraderie and laughing was now absent. I haven’t had so much fun on a holiday, ever. Eventually, I snapped out of my reverie and began repacking my belongings for my flight out the next day.

Before I caught my flight in the late afternoon, I revisited the Crafts Museum on Purana Qila Road, brought an Indian textiles design book and an ornate belt inlaid with coloured stones… and had a verbal scuffle with my rickshaw-driver. I made it explicitly clear I only wanted to visit the Museum and then head back to the hotel – for 160 rupees. On the way back, he stopped at some fancy looking store with what looked like expensive vases in the window. He said it was free, and I must have told him fifteen times (not an exaggeration!) that I wasn’t interested and to return me to the hotel, as originally agreed. After much bickering and parroting my request, we returned to the hotel and I paid him the original fee plus 20 rupees as a tip. Then he passed the notes back, frowning, saying that there was a problem and he’d taken me to see two sights; 320 rupees was the total payment. I passed the payment back, pissed off now, and got out the rickshaw, leaving him with a frustrated look on his face. I know they’re trying to make a living, but it really annoys me when people play games and try to scam you out of money.

Overall, while my tour itinerary was quiet in parts (which I was aware of), I had one of the best holidays of my life out there; not just because of the sights, but the people I came to know. It’s one of the few times in which I’ve felt whole and happy; the best thing was that when we socialized, it wasn’t under the effect of alcohol or any other “substance.” People were themselves, and that's what I enjoyed the most. Oh, and I would definitely recommend India as a place to visit; while the poverty and pollution are distressing, it's best to go with a sense of humour and easy-going attittude. And now I can rest knowing that last year’s holiday journal is finally complete. Can’t wait to see more of South Africa and gorge myself on tender steak and seafood from Tuesday 6th October. Aaahhh.

First of all, happy Chinese New Year. Must resist intense longing to scoff many plates of dim sum/yum cha.

I agree that it is a somewhat pointless entry, but it seemed a good idea to knock off the previous novella-long post.

That is all.

And out of the dragon's-. That hasn't happened yet, actually.

The reason for the freakish introduction is because nothing much has happened lately, well, apart from going on a 3 week holiday to China in October. It was absolutely... amazing. The Intrepid tour may have only been through the cities, but it was beyond description.

So, flying out from Manchester to Beijing via Dubai at 9pm, it was great travelling with Emirates. Comfortable seats, brilliant innovative menu and the aircraft smelled nice, too. Touched down in Beijing before midnight and stayed the evening at the Capital Airport hotel. As it was only ten minutes away from the airport, sleep was… unsettled, to say the least.

Got up early next day (10am in my books) to check out and took a taxi straight into the heart of Beijing to reach the Chong Wen Men Hotel. Nice place with the swish but ridiculously expensive Maxi’s Restaurant (which serves French cuisine), but the roads were extremely noisy at night… even throughout the twilight hours. Despite the windows, high altitude and curtains, I still got a pounding headache from what seemed to be a mechanised drill going off from about 10pm through until 6am… and it was freezing cold at night.

On my first day of exploration, I headed out to see the Ming Temple of Heaven inside Tiantan Park. The park itself was spacious and well laid-out and the temple was extremely beautiful with subtle rich colours and its uncanny symmetry in terms of architectural design. Previously, I didn’t appreciate building design as much, but seeing that sort of thing in person is drastically different from looking at the two-dimensional depictions shown in photographs. Such perfection and colour. The Danbi wall carvings, located on one slope leading up to the elevated temple, were also amazing. Intricate and strong in design and texture, there were several panels depicting wispy clouds, phoenixes with flowing plumage and tightly coiled dragons. However, strolling around the park in my jeans and modest t-shirt, I noticed that my arms began to feel numb… like lead weights. People say that China is bitterly cold in winter, especially Beijing, but because it seemed sunny and the climate was somewhat agreeable, I underestimated how cool it would become in the mid-afternoon. To avoid feeling sick throughout the rest of my tour, I headed back to the hotel… and felt rather drowsy, so went power-napping for a few hours.

Later on, I checked out the in-built Chinese restaurant (had run out of stock of most items on the menu) and Maxi’s… the latter of which I was considered one of the proletariat to eat there. Yes, a lone backpacker with a reasonable amount of cash turned down because she was unworthy. It was likely because only the people who paid for plus deluxe/superior rooms were allocated a table. To be honest, the food was all Westernised and overpriced anyway. Wandering around the city alone, it took a while to become accustomed to the unique sights... like the spitting. Used to feel like vomiting whenever that dread sound of noisily expelled phlegm cut the air, but this second time round in China, I found it really funny. Not in a patronising way, you come to appreciate the different customs of another country. Also, I never expected to see a Haagen-Dazs shop in Beijing. (Never been into one, you see) Popping in, I ordered a Japanese-style dessert, green-tea ice-cream with crushed red bean served in a long slender vessel. The presentation was very artistic and minimalist, though of course, it was expensive (for things in China, at least). So much intense flavour and all the ingredients complemented each other without ravaging your taste-buds. For the ultimate record in gluttony, a few days later, I popped in again and had a yummy Chocolate Brownie with vanilla ice-cream. I’m a sucker for desserts. Ha.

For dinner as well as lunch for the next day, I found a suitable fast-food stall to eat in at the New World Shopping Mall. Think it was (processed) seafood with noodles. Shortly afterwards, I took a woman’s offer up to have a facial. I’m not into pampering, but after seeing the state of my skin after a longhaul flight and a day’s stay in Beijing, I changed my mind. We went upstairs in a lift, and I admit I was anxious as you hear stories of people going off solitaire and not coming back. Despite the dodgy residential area we stopped in, nothing fishy was going on… still kept hold of my money-belt though. The facial was so invigorating and relaxing. Loved it when she caressed just under the neck, made me giggle insanely and it was great having all these refreshing layers remove the crap from my skin. Ahhhhhh…

The day after, I didn’t do anything as most of the major sights would be covered in Intrepid’s tour and besides, in some ways, it’s more fun to go along with other people when visiting monuments and historical sights. Fatigue was a major part as to staying in, too. Later that evening, I met up with the people I’d be travelling with. A mixed bunch; a few Brits, two Swedes with the majority being Australian. We went to a restaurant and had Peking Duck… in Peking! The actual dish is said to be rather hit-and-miss depending on which country you eat it in; it was good but I’ve had better.

Getting up early the next morning, we caught a private-hire minibus to see the Great Wall at Simatai, which is said to be one of the best areas for viewing the scenery and the Wall. It was cool whilst we were there, but soon after ascending the sloped wall, the sweat began to pour. A bit disgusting actually, as I remember adjusting my daypack/mini-rucksack and there was this… dampness… on my back. Unsurprisingly, the same top was not worn for the rest of the holiday. There were twelve watchtowers we walked through; after that, the path was sealed off due to renovation. Great walk, as it took us far away from the perpetual burning hazy smog that encompassed Beijing the whole time we were there. The view was amazing too, seeing the Wall snake over dangerously sharp hills and how far it stretched. To finish off the day, we got a glimpse of the stadiums to be used for hosting the Olympics in 2008. One was a blue-hued building with an exterior which resembled bubbles; the other was a colossal tightly curved nest of intertwined steel and glass panels. Impressive, though the buildings aren’t as appealing as traditional Chinese architecture.

Next day, we got a guided tour around Tiananmen Square (which had many Chinese tourists and kids parading in uniform for Chairman Mao) and the Forbidden City. Rather imposing, though it’s unfortunate that a few buildings in the courtyard of the Forbidden City are undergoing renovation and were off-limits. The Forbidden City has a gorgeous layout, though it would be considered decadent to most people. The history of the place is fascinating, too. Having free time in the afternoon, I joined with two other British girls (on their gap-year) and we took a long ride to see the Summer Palace, famed retreat of the unpleasant Dowager Empress, Cixi. The park was beautiful with lakes, pagodas, temples and decorative pavilions. We didn’t get a chance to enjoy a leisurely stroll as we had to meet up for dinner. Shame, really.

Boarding an overnight train the next morning, we settled into hard-sleeper carriages. Oddly enough, the bunks were a lot more comfortable than that of the bed in the Beijing hotel. I loved being on top bunk; it grants an increased sense of security and its fun just being away from the noise on the lower levels. Didn’t really click with anyone on the tour, though I’d say we all got on but just did our own thing.

Arriving in Zhongwei, a small town surrounded by desert, in the late afternoon, we disembarked and headed to our hotel to nap a while. The hotel was… cold, and my roommate and I had the “luck” to be facing a noisy karaoke bar. The good thing is that the karaoke only lasted until 11pm, but it felt like ages when you lie there, trying to sleep. Next day, we got up and had a banquet lunch with dumplings and some nice authentic cuisine. Shortly after, we took a minibus down to the Yellow River to go sheepskin-rafting, which was great fun. Sure, the weather was overcast, chilly and spitting a little, but it was hilarious with all of us huddled together, back-to-back, on these wobbly but sturdy rafts. There were two local guides to a raft, each using a bamboo oar to steer us over rapids and around the bends of the river. With the frame constructed out of bamboo poles, the material which kept the rafts afloat was a gaggle/herd/flock of bloated sheep carcasses. Well, amend that to reversed inflated sheepskins. You could see their little legs sticking out at each end of the skin. It is strange, but it’s a very effective method of floatation. There was another British woman on the trip who had a charming larger-than-life trait, in more ways than one. That didn’t bother me, but it was… annoying… when she leaned heavily against my back (we were back-to-back for balancing the raft). Thought my spine needed straightening with vicious therapy after that, but the whole debacle was entertaining and it was different.

That evening, we visited the night stalls for some good old street food. Ohgodohgodohgod. The food was tantalizing and there was a lot of variety, from dumplings (both sweet and savoury), to freshly made bread stuffed with beef and spring onion (like a kebab/burger) and other little dishes. I would have crammed more of those kebab/burger things down because they were beautiful, but I wanted to leave room for sampling the dumplings. Wish the UK had freshly made food like that, but noooo…

The experience the day after had us all in fear as we were to embark on a 6 hour camel ride through the desert and sand dune area of the Tengger. We did get about 4-5 ten minute breaks, but fuggin hell, my legs felt like they’d put in a stretching torture device after riding for that duration. Riding horses for a few hours - no problem, but camels… no way. After getting off, I’d run around, howling in agony whilst clutching my buttocks, it was so agonising feeling the strain… but I was laughing at the same time too. Perhaps this would be considered too much information, but going to the toilet in the desert was fun… At the end of the day, it was okay, just so long as you remembered to bring disinfectant gel and a roll of tissue-paper. And you were aware of the surroundings.

After reaching our camping spot, the local guides unpacked all the tightly bundled cargo that our camel steeds had been carrying. Small tents which housed two people, they were adequately sized and gave good protection against wind and rain. Setting up our tents, we soon separated off in different directions to get firewood for the campfire evening barbeque and for our source of morning warmth. It was so peaceful in the desert, which I wasn't used to. Most people are accustomed to noise, whether it’s loud traffic or even the most insignificant of sounds. While our task was manual, it was great to get away from the others (not meant in a nasty way) and feel at peace whilst roaming the desert for suitable materials. Impossibly silent; great place for meditation and chilling out. Having gathered enough wood, our local guide, Nadia (her given "tourist" name), prepared the BBQ. Not much of a smiley people-person, she still did a great job of looking after us. Can't believe she attended the mini BBQ for 4 hours non-stop. It was cool in the desert, even during the day; we eventually managed to cook everything though; from sliced tofu, potato, Chinese mushroom, we also had meat kebabs sprinkled with paprika. The food tasted great even without the powder.

Retiring to our tents around 11pm, the temperature in the desert was MOTHAFUGGIN freezing. That is no exaggeration. I doubt anyone slept properly. All night, I kept squirming and curling into a foetal position, my toes felt the icy nip of the desert air. The rest of my body was fine, which was a blessing of sorts. What really kept me awake though was the fear of scorpions nesting under our tent, but I managed to get some measure of sleep... after a few hours. Getting up around 8:30am, we had a chilly morning and a basic breakfast. I had sweet bread with some sand thrown on for that extra crunch. Wasn't very appetizing.

Anyway, we had a couple of hours extra camel-trek after packing up all of our tents and BBQ. It was hilarious after coming to the end of our desert trip because as soon as we drew closer to civilization (a road counts as that in the middle of nowhere, for me at least), everyone sighed in relief at the minibuses that awaited our arrival. Though annoying at times, my camel steed that I dubbed Cyndi/Marcus (never checked down below, you see) did a reasonable job, despite ruining my favourite pair of jeans. Nothing dodgy happened, the bloody camel just happened to charge into the one in front (it was carrying the sleighs reversed so the nails were facing outwards), heard a ripping sound, and behold, my favoured jeans were ruined. That's the bad thing about chaining camels by ramming a thick spike and rope through their nose; if the lead camel pulls ahead, the pain incites the ones left behind to keep up. Poor beasties. S/he had the loveliest eyes and gorgeous thick lashes. Having the rest of the afternoon free, I visited the eclectic Gao Miao temple in the town centre. Beautiful architecture and the thought and design which went into its construction was incredible. It was a rather peaceful place to be, and the keepers here were friendly and welcoming.

Later on, we caught an overnight train to Xi'an, home of the Terracotta Warriors. At first, I wasn’t really expecting much from the capital; aside from the said warriors, the place seemed like a dull industrial hub. That is, until I found out some historical attractions. Moseying on down to the Muslim Quarter, I had a great time bartering with the locals (for the pashminas especially) and seeing the different culture there. I’d say that while they are devout, the religious aspect is a lot more subtle compared to Britain. The Communist government would have a great deal to do with it, as well as the other religions that can be found in China. Went to the Great Mosque which is set in a stunning courtyard with gardens and elaborate steles. So beautiful and the mix of Chinese and Muslim architecture is magnificently assembled. During our stay in Xi’an, we went to the Terracotta Warriors and they were impressive in their own right, though personally, I was more taken with the various ceramics and pottery that had been recovered. The dishes were colourful and extremely decorative, with various features that made them imposing, i.e. a dragon head protruding out of a yellow bowl-like dish. I also visited a small Daoist temple in the centre of Xi’an with a fellow Intrepid traveller. Though small, the temple was well-laid out and had a gorgeous interior and the lovely Daoist priestess/cleric was very friendly and accommodating, too. I may not be one for religion, but I do appreciate the peace and serenity that can be found in those places.

Finishing the day off with some spicy Islamic style lamb (very tender and juicy, bursting with distinct herb flavour) and deep-fried bread, we caught an overnight train to Chengdu. The journey itself was fairly uneventful, though the scenery we eventually passed was stunning. High lush mountain peaks, with waterfalls winding their way amongst the contours, clear water tumbling down over steep drops. Most of the time, the scenery we witnessed was industrialised and rather drab. Still, it makes you appreciate the difference in environment. We arrived in Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan province, in the early hours of the morning. We still got to check into our hotel though, but had to wait a few hours before we could do anything. Buying some steamed dumplings from across the hotel, it was nice but your fingers got drenched in oil no matter how clean you were when you ate. Anyway, the pork dumplings were really tasty.

Shortly after, we headed to the Giant Panda Reserve. My favourite was the red panda, a creature more akin to the raccoon than an actual bear. Black and white pandas aren’t all that. For one thing, they don’t exactly make preserving their species easy with their fussy mating habits and questionable parenting skills. We watched this video about pandas and the effort being made to save them and this one panda mother began batting its newly born cub around the room, which made a shrill screaming noise. Being that ugly, I don’t blame the mother for attacking its own. Joking. Fortunately, one of the keepers charged in and swiftly got the cub out of the room. We also got to see the young developing panda cubs and they were extremely cute. Despite them, I’m still a sucker for the false red panda. My babies!

Authentic Sichuan cuisine is nice, but way too spicy for me. When you order Sichuan Beef in the UK, you usually get a reasonable amount of meat and spice in the dish. Here, however, the plate was stacked full of fat chillies and a few pieces of beef fat. It was interesting, though it made your eyes water. Anyway, for lunch that day, we visited the Buddhist Wenshu Monastery for a fully vegetarian meal. Didn’t think I’d enjoy it, but the dishes were colourful and delicious. The dessert made from glutinous rice with red bean, some kind of sweet jelly-like plant and honeymelon slices, was fantastic. I also browsed the touristy Jinli Street. Nice with gorgeous tradition style architecture, though it was very artificial and expensive. Still, it’s an enjoyable place to sample street food and relax in.

Setting off in the afternoon, we caught our last overnight train to the final destination in our itinerary; Kunming in Yunnan province, otherwise known as “Eternal Spring City.” God. It was so warm there, even during the evenings. Subtle, but nice food style, too. I quite liked the over-the-bridge noodles, a rather easy-on-the-tastebuds dish. Having a free afternoon on the tour’s last day, we wandered on down to Cuihu Park to watch the locals practice taichi and ballroom dancing. Later, I took it easy by wandering the modern city of Kunming, where there were plenty of posh tea and silk shops. We had our last evening banquet meal in an expansive Yunnan speciality restaurant. The ambience was warm, and the food ordered was varied and tasty. At the same time, a select group of people from Yunnan’s ethnic minority groups performed on stage in colourful costumes with pipes and drums. There was one all-female group which were clad in silver cone-shaped hats, short top and skirt with high-heeled boots. It looked like something from a Eurovision song contest. Ahem. Really interesting with all the unique costumes and individual dancing styles. Said goodbye to my group as I’d be staying in Kunming a few more nights to explore before flying to Beijing, and then from there, I’d be flying back to Manchester.

First day of solitary exploration in Kunming the next morning, I headed out via taxi to see the remote Bamboo Temple found near the Western Hills. Exciting, though I was concerned at one point when my taxi driver suddenly stopped in the middle of nowhere amidst and began wildly gesturing and speaking in a language I didn’t fully understand. Think he was saying he was running out of fuel or else he didn’t know where exactly the temple was, which was kind of annoying considering he didn’t halt the ever ticking meter. I was anxious, but more out of the fact of thinking about horror films, half-expecting some deformed Asian hicks to come charging out the undergrowth wielding axes and what not. Hehe. Anyway, 5 minutes later (plus an extra few yuan added on), another taxi charged past and the two drivers chatted briefly before we followed after them. Bamboo Temple is an amazingly peaceful and enchanting place to visit. Away from the city’s noise and pollution, it’s a gorgeous temple with a beautiful courtyard and pavilion. Like its name, there’s plenty of bamboo to be found in and around the temple grounds. It felt like heaven in a sense, for me at least. It was the atmosphere there, the remoteness and the tranquillity.

While I was there, I befriended a group of backpackers (one Brit and four Germans) who had all banded together. To cut down on the cost, we travelled together to the Western Hills, which was about 20 minutes away or so. The lower temples are Buddhist, the upper Daoist and at the top is Dragon Gate which was carved from rock by a monk and finished by locals after he died. Peaceful, though there were a lot more tourists milling about the place. We took a bus to the top as we got there 2 hours before it was due to close; apparently, it was 1 hour’s walk to Dragon Gate so we needed to hurry. Pretty with all the alcoves, paintings and carvings that could be seen. We agreed to meet up for dinner that evening and this guy noted the address down for me in Chinese, but none of the five tax drivers I pulled over had any idea where it was. Walking around the area, I looked out for it and asked various locals where it was, but either it was hidden away at the top of a building or else it had been replaced by another business. Eventually, I ate out at this fairly upbeat and Westernised café which served Chinese and Western food… though I had something which I really should have avoided. Alarm bells went off, but as it looked clean and popular, I thought it would be okay. Aughhhh. How wrong! Had a beef with egg fried rice dish and an *icecream* milkshake. Went down okay, though I felt guilty that I never got to see the others again. Anyway, couldn’t sleep and was restless all night. Then I started throwing up; an awful lot came up. I was prepared for it by kneeling by the toilet, so thankfully there wasn’t any mess. Seven litres of vomit and yellow bile later (or perhaps more), I was still shaking and feeling nauseous. Don’t know what time it was, but eventually I stopped feeling like I was going to barf and tried to get some sleep.

Woke up feeling like shite the next morning and knew that despite food poisoning, it’s better if you eat something. So, ate a small amount of watermelon, though I’m aware fruit can sometimes upset your stomach due to its acidity. Would have liked to have something more solid and neutral, but just looking at the other food made me feel sick. So, after sitting at a computer for 15 minutes, I knew something was about to happen so left promptly… then a bucket load of sweet vomit came out, but I was in my hotel room and ready by then. So, it all worked out okay.

Spent that day just resting and drinking lots of water; I tried to go outside but felt so weak and didn’t want to risk embarrassment by darting off to vomit in front of people, so stayed indoors for the day. Anyway, felt slightly better the next morning but still stuck mainly to liquid. I hired a taxi to go to Yuantong Si, the largest Buddhist complex in Kunming. Over 1,000 years old, it’s said there’s been many changes in the architecture. Really beautiful, especially the temple in the centre of the green pool… with the exception of the murky algae-ridden water and the occasional dead carp and terrapin that lived in there. And the tearing of dead flesh by those that still lived. Ironic for a Buddhist temple and their philosophy. Otherwise, it was a spectacular place. Nice steles with gorgeous intricate calligraphy in gold paint, too. The interior of the main temple was incredible, two huge dragons with intricately layered scales twisted around the twin pillars which flanked a statue of Sakyamuni. Really colourful, too.

Also went to see the *local* Bird and Flower Market which was fun. Saw lots of puppies, terrapins and even piglets for sale. Most of the locals ignored me which was good, though some of them were friendly in the stalls; only the ones which foreigners would buy something from… like pashminas. Understandable, really.

Had an early sleep that night as had to get up around 4am to catch a flight up to Beijing from Kunming airport. Turns out that the plane had a technical fault and it was chaotic trying to get a sense of what was happening. It would have helped if I’d learned more Mandarin, but eventually, after much to-ing and fro-ing between desks (they didn’t seem to know what the procedure was for rearranging cancelled/delayed flights); I finally got a seat on a flight that would arrive in Beijing around midnight. Better late than never. Spent the next 8 hours browsing the shops; would have gone back into the city centre as a daytrip, but I was tired and just wanted to be someplace secure. Got some nice earrings and a short dress to wear over trousers. One of the young shop assistants pissed me off though; I know its boring standing there with a low income, but for god’s sake, don’t insult customers who come through just because they’re foreigners. Laowai - means foreigner. That’s the word she used; normally I couldn’t care less, but the way she said it made it sound like it was something dirty. Silly bitch. Anyway, I ignored her and just browsed around. Would have liked to learn what the equivalent of “Up yours” is. LoL.

Flight took off without incident, so got to Beijing around midnight. Then had a few hours disturbed sleep as I had to get up around 4am again. Joy. Anyway, from there, things were… interesting. Due to the severe fog, we were stranded on the aeroplane for 4 hours. Eventually, Emirates decided to make a break for it as it never dissipated. The flight to Dubai was hilarious, but disgusting. A few Chinese men wouldn't stop clearing their throats; they kept making that really vile wet noise when doing that and they wouldn't STFU - they kept spitting - 13 hours nonstop, much to the discomfort of the other passengers. I was fed up at first, but eventually, I found it so funny I couldn't stop giggling. Couldn't speak to the guy next to me for about fifteen minutes due to shaking in laughter so much. Unsurprisingly after landing, I (as well as a few others) missed our connecting flight from Dubai but we got a free night’s accommodation at the Dhow Palace Hotel. It was nice, but way too decadent and spoilt for my liking. Had a fantastic buffet meal though; beautifully laid out on various tables were platters of Mediterranean cuisine, authentic Japanese sushi, Indian curries and all sorts of puddings. Food was top quality. My room was really nice too, with a fat comfy bed, chair and twin plump pillows. Made me feel like a Saudi Arabian princess.

Anyway, Dubai is okay for a night’s stay, but it feels rather artificial and pretentious. The sort of place I hate. Mind you, it’s not the type of place backpackers are often found. There’s not a lot of culture there for one thing, most of it is Westernised, balanced with a devout Muslim community. Eventually, the next day, another early start happened… at around 3:30am. Ouch. Anyway, I did manage to get home… even if it did take me into a full 3 weeks and was stressful with the amount of delays and language barrier in Kunming’s airport.

To summarise my holiday, I had a fantastic time. Loved the things we did and the relaxed pace of the itinerary. Would have liked to do the Tiger Leaping Gorge part, but sadly, there wasn’t enough time. I might do it in a few years’ time, after the Olympics have finished. Want to see the rainforests in South America or go elsewhere, someplace rural and with plenty of flora and fauna.

Completely off-topic, I love Mass Effect. Have completed the game as a fully Paragon FemShep... I want to play as a Renegade, minus the xenophobic twat persona, but the two seem mutually linked. Anyway, Saren and Lorik Qui'in are sexy mofos... but why couldn't Garrus be a romance option? Liara's romance is good, but I just cannot be bothered to romance Kaidan... think its to do with Carth. That is all. Anyway, happy holidays, everyone, and have a fab new year.

Juicy title, hmm? Anyway, forgive me for the delay but I’ve been in a melancholic stupor ever since I got back from Asia. Yes, I’m one of the most volatile people on Earth… but better to let your passions rage rather than rot, wouldn’t you say?

First day was in Bangkok, got there around late lunchtime. Dubbed the “City of Angels,” it’s not quite as romantic as the name suggests, rather a chaotic juxtaposition of temples against brothels/seedy districts and nightclubs. My accommodation was the Viengtai hotel, located on one of the narrow streets within the bustling city.

Exploring the area was my first concern, and so my (excessively) loquacious roommate and I walked around the streets. She’d already been there for a few days, so she knew the area better than I did. A bubbly American, we got on reasonably at first… Anyway, it was quite interesting with all the variety in the local night-market; from freshly cut fruit to roast mice/cockroaches to henna-tattoo stalls.

Decided to indulge in a spot of decadence by taking advantage of the über-cheap massage-parlour (not that sort), so Mimi, Chris and myself went into the Chaidee Massage facility and had a one-hour session of brutal massage with pure coconut oil. While it was interesting, it was awkward having to get almost butt-naked. Still, we got over our initial embarrassment and eventually managed to relax. Oddly enough, Chris got a male masseuse (heard their voices through the curtain). We couldn’t stop ourselves laughing at that; it just seemed kind of odd to have a man doing another man… Ahem.

Though the traditional Thai massage is fairly… vigorous… we were informed that the Vietnamese were vicious with their technique. Think like extremely intimate massage and basically the masseuses could be adept torture-masters in their spare-time. You get the idea. We got pummelled, caressed and had our finger/toe digits cracked. A bit strange really, and I soon felt even more uncomfortable when my masseuse began pressing down on my hip…

I don’t think they had toilets in that small facility, but anyway, the woman moved on further down so I was spared the indignity of what might have been.

Next day we took a Klong tour in the canal-channels of Bangkok. Fairly enjoyable despite the pungent sulphur-like smell and polluted murky-brown waters; it was really interesting to look at the more dilapidated areas of residential living in the big city. From aged wooden huts on stilts to ornate glittering temples, it shows you how truly different people’s lifestyles are and how lucky we are in the West.

Eventually we got off our long-tail boat to visit Wat Pho, home of the largest reclining Buddha in Thailand. Nice, but I find those temples overwhelmingly materialistic and decadent despite the nature of Buddhism. Found out the reason why they build so many temples and statues, and it’s mostly to do with building merit. It’s the same elsewhere in the Far East. Personally, I’m not too keen about it because the money could be spent on more productive agendas, not on some superstitious belief of accumulating positive karma.

From observing, the monkhood make a living off the local populace, and that’s what really lowered my opinion of Buddhism. It’s just as corrupt as mainstream belief-systems, it’s that the West has quite a liberal approach and so most Westerners are shocked when they see how sexist/prejudiced Buddhism is in the more devout Asian places. Yeah, so that’s what really shook my happy-bunny levels; seeing something for what it was practised like, and not just the rose-tinted theory bit.

Later on that day, we travelled to Hualampong Train Station to catch the overnight train to Chiang Mai. Had a lovely dinner, though most of the others were too paranoid of food-poisoning/cultural food differences to eat anything prepared in the kitchen cabin. Chicken-turds.

Nah, wind-up. Anyway, I kept coughing because I had a nasty cold, but the others were really nice and accommodating. Awww.

Sleeping on that particular train was not the most comfortable experience I’ve endured, as we were sleeping in the direction the train was going (plus I was on top-bunk), I could feel every minute oscillation the cabin made and every little scrape. Unsurprisingly, I was knackered when we arrived in the stunning mountainous scenery of Chiang Mai. So beautiful and lush, and so different to the pollution and chaos of Bangkok.

In the afternoon, we were given the opportunity to go elephant-trekking. While interesting like the massage, I wouldn’t do it again, and it’s not directly linked to the comfort-factor. Despite it being a conservation park where the animals also helped with carrying cargo, the elephants themselves were viewed as a means to an end (money-making venture) rather than being protected out of genuine concern for their welfare. We saw two calves which had their back leg chained to a small stump from which they couldn’t move at all; all they did was rock back and forth and they had no shelter, no water and no food nearby. Not very impressive.

The elephant ride wasn’t that great… the seats were something like from an old, but still functional Russian plane (i.e. wood planks, very minimal comfort). Still, it was interesting to see how they used their trunks to balance themselves when ascending a steep and slippery hill.

Further into the evening, we ate out at the night-market square just outside of our hotel… and gawd, the food was amazing. I even got reunited with the visually spectacular Indonesian dessert, Iced Kacang. Very tasty.

Next day we set off again, this time to the Chiang Rai Hill Tribe Museum. There, we discovered more information about the various tribes that occupy Thailand whether through nomadic means or oppression.

After visiting the Museum, we were off to Laos Immigration, literally five minutes away. Some time later, we boarded a slow-boat sailing down the Mekong; very relaxing and peaceful. Despite the smooth flow of the mighty river, there were some very powerful-looking whirlpools linked together… there were quite a lot of them actually, and the captain steered his ship a slightly different direction when we came to the rough spots. Eventually, we ended up in Pakbeng, a small quiet Laotian town where electricity was erratic and unreliable.

Resting in Pakbeng for the night, we continued downriver to Luang Prabang, stopping off at the Pak Ou caves en-route. The caves home to a multitude of tiny Buddha statuettes and large shrines, it disappointed some people because they were expecting more. Personally, while it certainly wasn’t mind-blowing, I wasn’t expecting that much to begin with, so I wasn’t disappointed. Hah.

So, after discovering some “local” ingredients in my packed cooked lunches which had been prepared at local restaurants both in Thailand and Laos, I was relieved to be away from there. Spider or black-fly, madam?

Well, I suppose what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, correct?

Seven-and-a-half hours later, we arrived in Luang Prabang and went straight to our beautiful guesthouses overlooking the Mekong. The guesthouses were styled like wooden safari-lodges and they were set amongst a quiet garden. It was called Thong Bay (pronounced Tong), for those interested; I would highly recommend it to people travelling in Laos.

Anyway, it was there that I decided I’d finally had enough of my roommate. While a nice person, she was the sort who would come back in the early hours of the morning. Though the key could have been given to her, some of the accommodation we stayed at was the kind of place anyone could sneak into your apartment without people noticing. So it was a no-win situation; either you stay up knowing you have to get up early tomorrow morning, or else you sleep lightly, knowing you’re going to have to get up a few hours later. Either way, its extremely irritating.

Now there was another factor which influenced my actions; the particular rooms had dimming lights on, and so when I stalked back to bed after opening the door, she turned the switch onto maximum lighting (you know, like blinding sports-arena lights) and stomped all over the place. Not very subtle. So, I had a polite word with her saying perhaps we should split company since we didn’t share the same interests. It worked, though she went all anal/gave me the cold-shoulder afterwards.

Next day in Luang Prabang, I went exploring in town. Pretty and quiet, it’s a lovely old capital with a rich history. Went to Khong Sii Falls later on to visit Phet the tigress (a beautiful creature) and a group of Black Asiatic Bears, all of which had been rescued from poachers. After that, we went to the Royal Theatre to watch an excerpt from the Rama saga of Hindu mythology. It was mediocre; I’ve seen much better, they were amateurs though, so that explains the less-than-good quality, but at least the money they received will fund them and will encourage them to excel.

Got up early next morning to get a mini-but to Vang Vieng, which would take at least seven hours. The journey was along a very windy route which wound in amongst sharp mountain peaks and on precarious cliff-roads. Gorgeous scenery, though. Incidentally, because we were warned we might get travel-sick, I happened to drug myself a little too well with the local travel-sickness pills. Oops. Still, I dozed off for the rest of the journey without feeling nauseous, so that was awesome. I felt quite light-headed and was unable to concentrate afterwards though; even following a conversation was a challenge.

Eventually arriving in the border-town, a quiet and uneventful place with no major shops or real sights to see, we harried into our hotel. While some people despised the odd “backwater” towns, I actually liked some of them. They had a serene laid-back feeling which the cities lacked. Nice ambience and smooth flow. Though unwilling at first, I was persuaded to go kayaking down the Namsong by one of the lovely Laotian American women who came on the tour… and it’s something which I didn’t regret. Scenery was absolutely breathtaking; black karsts draped in cool grey mist, adorned with lush green foliage. It was really nice because it was raining heavily, and while the current was strengthened, it made kayaking in the heat considerably more tolerable.

The day after, because it was our last day in Laos, myself as well as a few others decided to go to the Talat Sao market for shopping. Like the street-markets of Bangkok and Chiang Mai, there are plenty of items to choose from, though the stalls get monotonous after twenty metres or so. Same items, just different people trying to make a living. It gave me a distinct pleasure to significantly hone my bartering skills; while some may consider it ruthless to barter an item right down to its lowest/local price, its far better to be tight-fisted with your money than trying to be altruistic and giving them a ridiculously high price for it.

Yeah, at first I was thinking at least it gives them a slightly higher wage for the month, but they’re not likely to view you as generous… just an idiotic mug with plenty of money to spare. So, think like a money-shark!

Next day went to Lak Sao, a less attractive border-town between Laos and Vietnam. Stopping for lunch in Pakeng, we passed some beautiful limestone mountain scenery, though unfortunately we didn’t get the option to go to a viewing-spot and take a photo.

After staying the night in Lak Sao, we travelled onward to one of the most famous cities in Northern Vietnam, Hanoi. I’d read that Vietnamese drivers are crazy, but hell, I never expected them to be insane. Basically, there’s traffic going opposite directions just like your normal road, however, every driver seemed to be playing Chicken… so as one can imagine, we were all anxiously watching the traffic come hurtling towards us. Unsurprisingly, conversation became slightly morbid… though it was quite entertaining.

Staying in one of the hotels right outside a perpetually-noisy (non-stop blaring of driver horns, etc) narrow street-lane, I decided to explore Hanoi the next day with a handful of the others whom I’d bonded well with. Walking to the Old Quarter, famed for its mixture of old French Colonial architecture with Hanoi’s ethnic touch, we decided to visit the hub of shopping. An observation was that the people in the cities are generally less friendly than their countryside counterparts. Anyway, brought a fine burgundy silk suit consisting of a sleeveless top with a mandarin-collar and a pair of flowing trousers which you tie up both sides. Quite elegant, really. Only cost me around £8 whereas if the same thing was to be exported to the UK, the price would be quadrupled.

Ate out at the famed KOTO’s, a restaurant which takes in disadvantaged children from broken homes and off the streets. Giving them a chance to learn customer service skills like waitressing as well as cooking, it also enables them to move onto better careers. Personally, I enjoyed it; the kids were lovely and very hospitable, food was absolutely mind-blowing too and the atmosphere was jovial and light. Later that evening, we went to see the traditional Water Puppet Show which was very entertaining and dazzling for something so humble.

Anyway, after the show finished it was our last night’s dinner with our tour-guide and a few of our group who were either going home or doing something else. It wasn’t very comfortable or enjoyable… I was extremely pissed off with this immature naïve American girl who thought our tour-guide was brilliant while the other half of the group as well as myself viewed her as a nice person, but appalling tour-guide (not very informative/motivated). Just because a tour-guide makes a good drinking-buddy doesn’t make them exceptional at their career.

It wasn’t the contrast in opinion that irked me, it was the fact that she attempted to persuade me to give a sizeable amount of money as a tip, something which the tour-guide didn’t deserve. So, I felt quite awkward at the table and felt like driving a corkscrew driver down someone’s throat. Ahem. I’m not this violent, really. Haha.

Good news the next day… the two whom had actually split the group into two camps left. Hurray. Basically, relations within the entire group were a lot less strained than before, but sadly, a few of the awesome people who were with us left that morning too. Also met our tour-guide for the second part of the trip, an awesome British woman called Sharon. I’ll summarise her qualities here so I don’t need to repeat myself; encouraging, intelligent, friendly and broad-minded. She made an effort to encourage the group to do more daring activities plus she was incredibly knowledgeable about the countries we visited.

Early start next morning to catch a ferry to Cat Ba Island, near to the famous Halong Bay; home to 3,000 limestone karsts which rise from the sea and one of the UNESCO World Heritage Sites. While Cat Ba is pretty, it shares the same tack as Blackpool, though Cat Ba has more charm than that cesspool. Heh. That evening on the beach, we had a phenomenal seafood buffet… absolutely scrumptious and mouth-watering. Yeah, then next day we went kayaking amongst the karsts… and had another freshly cooked seafood lunch with salad. Mmm. Then a few others including myself just chilled out atop the boat while a few of the others continued kayaking.

It was virtually unbearable that night in the hotel we were staying at… my new (and lovely) roommate and I were aware that our air-con had broken down. Despite the guy coming around 2AM to attend the problem, he couldn’t get it working again. Add to the fact it was so hot and humid your body and night-sheets were soaked in sweat almost within a minute. Next day we asked for a switch in rooms, good thing really. Lol.

Oh, and another gross thing we saw at our hotel was the large jars of rice-wine, stuffed with various creatures. One large canister contained a large falcon in with a snake, another filled with hornets, and the rest with scorpions, etc. Still, it was fascinating.

Went cruising Halong Bay by private boat the next day; very calming but the hazy mist detracted the beauty of the place, seemingly draining the rich blues and greens of the karst greenery and sky. I swear they heavily modify the photos in the brochures to make them look far better than they actually are. Stopped off at some caves where we bore witness to some magnificent stalagmites and other ethereal natural rock phenomena. One cave interior’s ceiling resembled something from a contemporary nightclub with bubbles seemingly indented; the rich if subtle lighting contributed nicely to the mystery the caves, too. After re-embarking our boat, we then sailed to our final port, taking a bus to Lang Son where we visited Hang Ngoc Humanity Centre, a place where the handicapped and disabled can produce art and sell it. Very beautiful pieces such as the Vietnamese national women’s dress, the ao dai and also general ceramic works and paintings. Unfortunately, they were extremely expensive.

Next morning set off to the China border; really beautiful and varied scenery ranging from scenic mountainous landscapes to bustling cities. Arriving in Ningming, we went on a slow-boat trip to Huashan to see the ancient cliff paintings. Back at our lovely ethnically-influenced accommodation, there wasn’t much to do, though the stunning scenery and serene ambience made it a perfect place for relaxing and getting away from civilization.

Staying a few nights in the place, we had fantastic buffets (ordering individual dishes for twelve would have meant waiting for a few hours, hence buffet was faster), all thanks to the brilliant management/communication skills of our Mandarin-speaking tour-guide.

Travelling onwards to Liuzhou the next day, we then had another magnificent buffet, this time at Nanning. Chinese food is so healthy and delicious…

After our meal we pushed forward to Chengyang, staying in a beautiful Dong-style village amongst some low-level rice-fields, hosted by the superb Mr.Woo and his brilliant chef of a wife. Amazing, though the insects we encountered (usually at night) were larger than your average creepy-crawly… one kind of arachnid we came across more than once before Chengyang occupied the remote village, too. Its body the size of a large walnut with legs around 2-3 inches long, it wasn’t the sort of spider you would feel comfortable with in your room. Add to this that whenever we ate out on the landing at night, because of the lighting, we’d gather a massive audience consisting of a large swarm of midges, mosquitoes and fat moths. *shudders*

I hate moths… add butterflies to the list too. There is something most unnatural about their fluttering, plus their hairy bodies and disgusting proscibis are absolutely vile.

Taking a much-welcome countryside walk the next day, we sat down and watched the ethnic Cultural Show. Very impressive to see the Dong people wearing their ethnic costume and we even got to participate in their dance. Think like the Germans have dancing over steel rods… then blades, but we got lucky with having great bamboo-rods crashing below our ankles. Got to sip some sweet rice-wine, which was far better in taste and quality to the horrendous vomit we had back in Thailand and Laos.

Transferring back to Sangjiang the day after, we took a bus to Heping to visit the famous Longji rice-terraces. It was so beautiful there, while man-made contours had been carved into the land, the place was still natural and visually resplendent, the hills and tiers a healthy vibrant green against the azure blue skies. While staying there, I chilled out, relaxed, brought some hand-made crafts from the local Yao women (a gorgeous wall-hanging, a really nice apron and a pack of postcards of Longji throughout the four seasons) and then after having a lovely dinner overlooking the valley, we went on an hour’s tour to one of the viewpoints scattered across the rice-terraces.

Endured another early start as we travelled from Heping to Gulin, and then onwards to Yangshuo. Not as attractive/unblemished as the media makes out, Yangshuo is home to a big city that encroaches into the incredible limestone karsts that sprout from the ground. I found it takes away the serenity of the place, as one can feel the bustle outside and it evokes a claustrophobic feeling.

Walking around Yangshuo with Sharon and the rest of the group, there were many activities a person could do plus many stalls to barter at.

Next morning we set off on a bicycle tour through the town and into the limestone karst-seeded countryside. Led by our local guide, Farmer Tang (local guides are required because most countries recognise when their trade is being taken away; same in Laos/Vietnam, etc), we enjoyed a leisurely cycle through extremely muddy terrain to stone-cobbled paths. Stopping for lunch at his house, his wife cooked us all a splendid buffet. They were both very generous and hospitable.

Given the option of doing whatever activities we wanted, I decided to do Calligraphy, Chinese Water-Painting and Kung Fu. The former two weren’t that enjoyable, mostly because it was kind of boring and the tutor wasn’t the motivating sort. The Kung Fu was really fun, not just to do with the physical side of it, but also because of the awesome tutor. Still, they were all worthwhile to explore, even if I don’t have the patience to commit to them back home.

Later that evening, we caught a bus to Gulin to board the overnight train to Shenzhen. Exceeding all my expectations, it was a really nice model compared to the one we travelled on in Thailand. The bunks were far more comfortable, although there were six of us in a cabin, three stacked upon one another. Still, I enjoyed the gung-ho feel and it also made socializing way more fun instead of having to go further down the train to talk. Train food was lovely too, despite some of the others being wary of the hygiene.

Life’s far too short to worry, and it’s better to take a chance and experiment rather than shy away from new things. Besides, if the locals are fine, doesn’t that say something?

Arriving in Shenzhen around midday, we transferred to the magnificent jewel of a city known as Hong Kong by KCR. Had a gorgeous seafood banquet dinner in one of the street restaurants, afterwards we went to Harbour Bay to watch the phenomenal Light Show. While the Bay is stunning whether in day or evening, it was spectacular with the buildings lighting up in vibrant colours and sending neon-green laser-lighting shafts into the sky.

Ach, sadly it was the end of the tour and so we had a make-shift party in one of our travelling companion’s rooms to say our goodbyes and gorge on snacks. I was knackered though, and decided to retire early. Hee.

Because it was a free day the next morning, I’d made plans to meet up with one of our family-friends who lives in Hong Kong (known by my parents when they worked in the Hong Kong Police Force). “Aunt” Lili was hilarious as always; so direct and with a great sense of humour. Anyway, we went out to have a stunning Yum Cha/Dim Sum feast for an early breakfast/lunch (I missed brekkies, you see) and I decided to try something unusual… stone-fish dumpling, a poisonous kind of fish. Very tasty though, and nice presentation.

Decided to go to Ocean Park, though I wish I hadn’t, because nothing had really changed and so it felt like a waste of money. Anyway, I’ve learned my lesson. Better to take things easy than try to cram as many activities/places in just because you only have a few more hours left. Regardless, Lili was great company and it was quite sad to leave Hong Kong, having only spent one night and a day there.

Since coming back, in some ways I regret going because of the corruption/hypocrisy present in Thailand/Laos Buddhist system; it completely shattered the positive hippy-shit view and presented a rather unpleasant picture of misogyny both through cultural and religious beliefs, and the whole leaning towards idol-worship/viewing Buddha as a god and asking for wealth/money/children (completely the opposite of Buddha’s teachings). While there are eight schools of Buddhism, and not all will be as corrupt, since doing some more research into it, I’ve become increasingly put off by the sexism/rationality of Buddhism… and its not just the Theravadan way either.

Maybe I’ve become far too cynical since witnessing the darker side of religion, and my views should be more balanced by the positive, but I absolutely hate hypocrisy as well as blind unquestioning faith. Some of the people who go to those temples and do those merit-making rituals won’t be doing it out of genuine goodwill, they only do it because they’ve been raised to and they haven’t questioned the rationality/whether their actions have any real effect apart from feeding the sponger-monks. And the latter is what really aggravates me, people who gladly feed off the generosity of others and do nothing which actually contributes to society…

Yes, yes, I know I sound like a Red (Communist), but intellectually-lazy hypocrites piss me off… severely. Ahem.

Anyway, I’m thinking of definitely going back to China and Hong Kong sometime in the near future where I’ll be able to explore more and have a good time, preferably with a friend, though I’d be fine going solitaire.

After all, daring is my middle name. *whipcrack, cue Indiana Jones theme*