Instant Millionaire...

Hanoi is incredible! More to follow soon.

Country Number 3....Vietnam!

Having spent a couple of final nights in Shanghai to visit some of our favourite spots and enjoy one final rooftop beer overlooking the magnificent cityscape, a couple of short flights took us southwards and out of China.

Country synopsis, CHINA -

Likes:

Beijing's Hutong. An amazing side of the city with so much energy and variety. We could easily have settled for a month or two in these never ending mazes. The cafes and bars were delicious havens in which one could easily lose track of time with a book and a beer.

Portion sizes! For just a few pounds you can pick up a feast that will easily feed a family - we're going to keep away from the weighing scales for a while.

Dislikes:

Manners! (Or lack thereof). Spitting and gobbing in the street, open mouthed staring, queue jumping and slurping & lip smacking when eating. Not everyone, but the uncultured few could really put a sour taste in ones mouth, or turn ones stomach, marring what could have been quite pleasant occasions.

Toilets. The public toilets are vile, filthy and smell so bad they were sometimes unapproachable. I won't elaborate, but when many of the old buildings do not have toilets, these fly ridden hell holes were the only option.

Favourite beer: Tsingtao, cheap and available everywhere. Yanjing draught comes a close second.

Favourite meal: Peking roast duck at Dadong's on my Birthday. It couldn't have been more Chinese.

Favourite day: Hiking the Great Wall. Unforgettable and truly stunning.

And here we are, having spent most of Friday between flights in a random airport in southern China (and catching up with the blog) we arrived late last night and have just finished breakfast before heading out to explore Hanoi. It's hot, it's humid and the scooter horns are echoing loudly in the street outside - let's do it!

PS - Blogspot, Twitter and Facebook are now fully available again! Expect some better formatting of the blog once we've unpacked the laptop.

Haggling

So, in Xi'an, Rosie spots a lovely 'Mulberry' handbag on a stall in the market. She wants it, she must have it. Thinking back to the advice given to us by Scott and Kirsten back in Beijing, we begin our haggling...or not.

The trick, so they explained, is to simply decide what you want to pay for something, tell them and each time they lower their opening offer, you just keep repeating your price. If they won't go down, walk away. If they don't want to lose a sale, they'll follow you and keep going lower - if not, then you simply don't want it.

Not wishing to part with more than 10 pounds, Rosie's opening offer of 100 Yuan was met with confusion as the lady held up her calculator showing 380 (£38). Over and over we repeated 100, 100, 100. The vendor tutted, moaned, made yelps in pain as her fingers punched increasingly lower amounts into her pocket Casio, subtracting 10%, dividing the difference, "final offer, final offer!"

Persistence won and Rosie now struts around proudly with her £10, 100 Yuan handbag.

The same technique worked for a miniature terracotta warrior figure - The opening offer, 160 Yuan (£16), we walk away with it for 30 (£3).

A seventy pound 'North Face' rucksack? Mine for £13.50.

After almost a month in China, I think we're learning the ways!

The Terracotta Army

The main reason for our visit to Xi'an was something we knew relatively little about, but what we had read and seen before organising the trip left little doubt that this was something we needed to witness.

Basically, the story goes like this:

The first emperor of China dies, the man who unified the country over 2,000 years ago and ordered the construction of the Great Wall, having already put into action the creation of his tomb, and a full sized stone army to guard it.

Shortly after his death, a peasant uprising overthrew the empire, and his tomb, along with other relics of his reign, was ransacked, burnt and destroyed.

In 1976, a man digging a well around 30km outside of Xi'an discovers a small piece of terracotta pottery...and then another...and then a terracotta head.

Almost 40 years later, and having discovered approximately 8,000 life-sized terracotta soldiers, archers, officers and horses lined up in full battle formation, excavations continue to this very day, with new relics appearing frequently. Each face, each item of clothing and armour, all completely unique - right down to the treads on their boots.

It truly is an amazing sight and is quite rightly referred to as the eighth wonder of the world. The hanger constructed over "Pit 1", the largest, could easily house a jumbo jet, or two, and protects dozens of lines of soldiers, in long corridors, as they would have stood beneath the earth. It was hard to get ones head around it - the age, the size, the importance of this incredible discovery. It was a sight that will not easily be forgotten and was well worth the two lost nights of sleep aboard a rattling, smokey and really rather grubby train!

Hopefully the pictures give some sense of it...

Exploring Xi'an

After a mostly sleepless sleeper-train journey of some 12 hours, we arrived in Xi'an (pronounced "she-ann", a small ancient city south-west of Beijing) in the cool of the early morning to be met by the hostel's mini bus driver. We were so happy to learn that our room was available so early in the morning and promptly downed our bags and fell asleep for 6 hours, waking at around 4.30pm to seek food and explore our new home.

We soon found the famous Muslim quarter and wandered among the bustling street markets. This was not the tourist trap type of market we found in Beijing, this was for locals, and the sights and smells were incredible. Giant cauldrons of broth steamed away on the pavement and roaring blasts of fire erupted from portable cooker tops over which red faced cooks tossed woks of sizzling meat and vegetables. Scooters and rickshaws whizzed past us in the narrow alleyways and laundry wafted high above in the late summer air.

The next day, and at the advice of some friendly Brits we met in Beijing, we rose early and hired bicycles which we pedalled excitedly around the top of the ancient city wall which fully encircles the inner city. To begin with, we had the 12km route virtually all to ourselves and we roared along like children, weaving in and out of eachother with the ghostly silhouettes of the many watch-towers and temples slowly appearing through the mist ahead as we rode. Below us, the city began whirring in to life, and, owing to the start of national celebrations here in China, banks of fireworks fizzed and popped in the still air over our heads, dragging with them great plumes of coloured smoke in wide rainbow-like arrangements and echoing cracks and booms from all directions around the maze of grey concrete tower blocks.

Day three arrived and The Terracotta Army beckoned....

The Train to Xi'an

With a dome of amber smog sealed firmly around Beijing as the sun was beginning to sink over the evening rush hour, Rosie and I hailed a cab and made our way through the heady fumes and torrent of car horns to Beijing West train station on the far side of town. After almost an hour of traffic jams and erratic lane changes, ahead of us, through the fuzzy half light, a behemoth of a building began to appear in the sea of neon lights which pulsed upwards around it. So large a structure, so grand and complex, it's width and height were virtually undefinable, its sprawling mass devouring the feeble structures surrounding it. It literally dominated the skyline, and as we gazed in awe through the windscreen, it felt as if we were being pulled towards it along with the vehicles around us. And then the pedestrians, filing along on pavements and overhead walkways, all crawling slowly but definitely towards its heart.  'Rosie,' I said, peering up, spotting the pagoda buildings perched high atop its concrete block mass, as if an ghostly city existed in the clouds, 'I think this is the station...'

Pulling up in a makeshift car park across the road and loading ourselves up like pack-horses, we were immediately sucked up into the crowds. We were quickly whipped along with the current of people, not entirely sure of our destination yet without any way of changing it. And as shouts, cries and blasting music attacked us from the restaurants and shops lining our route, we clung to each other tightly and marched onwards, upwards and over the dense traffic along an elevated walkway, through clouds of thick brown cigarette smoke and into the bowels of Beijing West Station.

As we fell into line along one of the many dozen tight lanes of security check points, ID cards of those around us were presented and stamped, and luggage of every shape and size was rolled through X-ray machines; battered boxes piled high and bound to a makeshift trolley with string, scuffed suitcases bulging at the seams and large bundles of belongings tied up in bedsheets and dragged along by frayed ropes. Lines of officials examined the march of bodies proceeding through the station perimeter, occasionally picking out an unsuspecting soul for closer scrutiny. The mood was of a sombre exodus, perhaps, as if a million people were suddenly afoot, all escaping the choking fog that seemed to be slowly devouring the city.  A dishevelled army of men, women and crying children, all piling onto overcrowded trains to take them away, anywhere, with as many of their possessions as possible.

Having decoded the enormous departures board, we made our way to a 'waiting area' which gave nothing but further fuel to the impression of a mass evacuation. A sea of bodies buzzed and scurried before us in a room of equal proportion to the building within which it sat, stretching far into the distance to steel barred gates leading down to the platform which would eventually open thirty minutes before departure. Large families gathered in tight circles, sitting on their bundles of luggage or simply squatting on the tiled floor, nattering loudly and slurping down steaming pots of noodles while young children lay asleep across their laps. Groups of labourers, their tanned leathery faces obscured by large straw hats, quietly played cards on overturned fruit crates while taking turns to sip from cans of beer which they passed around like a newborn baby. On the few seats available, weary businessmen sat alone and silent, their legs outstretched and their tired eyes squinting at the young couples giggling and taking photos of each other.  Around the room the travelling salesmen, in cheap suits and scuffed shoes, barked angrily into their cellphones while clutching bundles of gifts for friends and family back home.

We found an empty scrap of floor, kicked aside the pile of sunflower seed husks left behind by the last inhabitant of this precious piece of real estate, dropped our bags and waited for the train....

Leaving Beijing

Having spent two amazing weeks in Beijing, our time to leave arrived and we were both left wanting more – always a good sign. So many more alleyways to explore, each hiding more shops, bars, cafés and restaurants to be discovered. We left feeling very much at home there (something I did not expect of China), and agreed that it would be an area of the world we would like to return to in future – so vibrant and fast moving while retaining the feel of 'old' China, one could not help but be seduced by its charm. It truly is an amazing city, and yes, the habits of certain locals and the cleanliness of the public toilets can get too much sometimes, but with each new day we'd find something else to fall in love with, and gradually found ourselves more able to overlook those less tasteful aspects of the city (although public spitting and lip smacking while eating will never cease to grate at me like nails on a chalkboard).

We had a fantastic evening a couple of nights before we left Beijing. Taking advantage of a nearby Spanish bar's happy-hour, we each enjoyed ice cold pints of Beijing Draft Beer (along with a complimentary selection of delicious tapas) for the mouth-watering price of just 10RMB a glass (around 98 pence). The cheap beer and free food certainly worked to their advantage as we ended up staying until midnight, partaking in a homely meal of steak and chips and singing along to Toots and the Maytals and other classic reggae selections (no Spanish music in sight – thankfully) as we sipped glasses of ice cold Pastis (the Spanish link weakens further!). We stayed so long, playing cards and people watching from our perfect corner window seat, that upon leaving, our stomachs called for supper and so in to the hot-dog and burger shack opposite we stumbled. Beside us, as our sausages sizzled away on the grill, Scott and Kirsten from Ohio sat eagerly awaiting the same post-drinking midnight sustenance. We got talking and learnt that Scott had proposed to Kirsten in a bar up the street the night before, and it was agreed that we would head there for a night-cap and to take some snaps for them as a reminder of their special night.

Several beers later and as 2:30am approached, we really did call it and night! You might have seen the pile of goodies purchased in the blur of the following morning on my previous post. I might add that despite mentioning the “B” words (beer and bar) so frequently in my posts, and despite having been away for over one month, this was our first hangover, so rest assured that our livers are perfectly safe and well.

We spent the next evening, our final night in Beijing, swapping stories and travel tips with our new American friends over jugs of Yanjing Beer (as well as learning the REAL art of haggling from them both – more on that later) in one of our favourite bars before leaving at a reasonable(ish) hour to catch up on some much needed sleep. As we passed the tiny shop outside our hotel's courtyard, ever the night-owl and party-goer Rosie, decided that one more beer was in order and so we each raised one final bottle of Beijing's finest and said a sad goodbye to a city that has enthralled us from day one, and a fond farewell and bon voyage to Scott and Kirsten – we hope to see you all again soon!

Hangover Cures....

...China style!

The Great Wall of China

A warm wind rolls up the hill side and blows spirals of dust around my feet. Through a flawless sky, the sun beats down on the dry ground and scattered rocks which form the pathway below me. Lowering my sunglasses from my head, I follow it with my eye. Slowly, the ancient remains unfold, snaking away from me, dropping down the steep slope ahead, rising to a crumbling watchtower perched precariously on the hilltop and disappearing over the far side. My eyes, slowly adjusting to the white hot light, bring into focus the unfolding mountain ranges beyond, where I spot the same ribboning stone line again.  Smaller, yet still unfurling, slowly and deliberately, following the contours of the very highest peaks, tracing the line at which the sky meets the earth, with tiny watch towers jutting out along it like connecting blocks. I look further, beyond this, to the next row of mountains, the deep greens of their slopes faded by the distance, blurred by the heat, and there again, as I reach for my camera, I see it, and finally witness the full magnificence and size of the structure on which I am standing. For as far as my eyes can see, The Great Wall is there, climbing up, over and across each and every hill, mountain and valley in its path, reaching so far into the distance it seems as though it could touch the very edge of the earth.

The wall twists through the landscape like an immense rope. Again and again it appears and vanishes, rises steeply and drops away, weaves and meanders, traces and gouges. I remind myself again that I am actually here, stood on the Great Wall of China and my mouth hangs open. I look over my shoulder to see my shadow tumble over the edge of the wall and into the ravine below. The sight behind me is equally breathtaking. Spotting the wall at the most distant point of the horizon here, I wonder if this incredible structure really does encircle the globe, and how the photo I have just taken will never convey the true majesty of standing where I am right now.

.....

What followed was without doubt one of the best days of our lives. We scrambled up steep crumbling staircases, picked our way through the rubbled remains of some of the oldest parts of the wall and spent in total around 3 hours hiking from tower to tower (22 in total) with each hill top vista more spectacular than the last. We were so glad to have chosen the less touristy option for the wall. Some tours will drive you around Beijing, collecting people from various hotels before heading to the most commercial, most restored, most crowded part of the wall some 4 hours later - we even read that some tours leave you just 30 minutes to take your photo, buy your souvenir T-shirt and get back on the coach for another 4 hour trip back to Beijing.

Our tour was advertised as 'not for the faint-hearted' and specified that we should be physically fit & able and without heart complaints, asthma etc. Having completed it, it is easy to see why. Although the pace was moderate, allowing plenty of opportunities for photography or to simply stand in stunned awe, some parts of the wall were in such bad shape that one had to carefully pick hand and foot holes and climb from rock to boulder up and down almost sheer faces of what remained of ancient staircases and walkways. Ascend one side of a hill and clamber down the other, stroll along a gentle pathway leading to a giant staircase before disappearing into the cool shadows within a watch tower to overlook the route you have just climbed, and survey the harrowing path ahead. It was utterly exhilarating and having spent so long hiking along it (and at times without a single soul around us), we really felt as though we'd experienced it, rather than simply  seeing it - arriving, taking a photo amidst the crush of tourists and hawkers and then driving home again, as many groups will have done that same day. With our faces caked in sweat and dust, we wearily boarded our mini-bus and sat in stunned silence for several miles as we began the journey home, each of us trying to digest the incredible experience we'd just shared.

Stuff on Sticks

Last night, and after a rather anti-climactic sunset flag lowering ceremony on Tianamen Square (soldiers march up, lower flag, march away again), we wandered over to a nearby street-food night market. Despite being a huge tourist trap (made up prices, fake meat and banana-less banana fritters etc) it was quite clear that if it lives and if it fits, they're quite happy here to shove a skewer up it's backside and cook it. Among other equally horrifying delights, we saw baby shark, starfish, seahorse, millipede, tarantula, snake and still wriggling (still very much alive) scorpions. One could also munch on the testicles of most of your average farm animals, should insects and spiders not be your cup of tea.

Choosing to pass on most of what was on offer, we watched through our fingers as a group of testosterone fuelled American schoolboys took turns to nibble at increasingly disturbing creatures to the gleeful squeals of the nearby Aussie schoolgirls.

Rosie did try grilled octopus and I a tray of dumplings (plus a few other bits and pieces of the small amount of 'normal' food we could identify) but we both left feeling that the place was more of a tourist's photo opportunity / vendor's cash cow, than the place to sample the traditional Beijing street food we'd hoped we'd find. No doubt it will pop up another day when we least expect it, as the best discoveries often do.

Beijing

On Friday 7th September, after an exhilarating taxi journey, which saw us rolling and flailing around the back seat of a very tired Volkswagen Jetta to the pounding beats of Germany's finest Euro-trance masters, we boarded the lunchtime high speed train to Beijing and sat nervously watching the sky grow darker by the second ahead of us. As we sped out of Shanghai Station, surrounded by giant pitchforks of lightning which crackled and boomed around us, a sub-tropical rain storm swallowed the city in a rolling cloak of thick cloud and apocalyptic rain which blasted the windows and sizzled on the power cables overhead. Accelerating to over 300km per hour, we were soon out of Shanghai, out of the storm and back under the hazy Chinese sunshine. Lush fields, small villages and what seemed like a million electric pylons soared past as the train sped northwards.

Almost 6 hours later, and like the travelling pros that we now are, we sussed the Beijing Metro in seconds, purchased tickets and soon found ourselves in the neighbourhood we'd call home for the next 10 days. Squashed into a tiny ivy lined alleyway away from the main road, and with a winding approach illuminated by dozens of swaying red lanterns, our hotel lured us in through the early evening darkness, alleviating the weight of our rucksacks with each step into its warm glow. Our room, up on the fifth floor and overlooking the hotel's beautiful courtyard, is quite stunning compared to the hostel rooms we have stayed in so far. Having decided to 'go posh' during our stay in Beijing, we are very fortunate to have our own bathroom, and, among other simple but by now much appreciated furnishings, a beautiful wooden four poster bed carved with traditional Chinese designs and enclosed by red chiffon curtains. The room looks out high over the city, with the skyscrapers of modern China to the East and the temples and pagodas of the ancient Forbidden City to the West which shimmer enticingly on the fuzzy horizon, awaiting our arrival later this week.

Compared to Shanghai, Beijing immediately felt different. Having left the hotel to explore, we quickly became lost in an maze of endless alleyways (or 'Hutong'). Built over a hundred years ago these neighbourhoods are now strung with tiny independent bars, shops, cafés and restaurants - all unique and all utterly charming. Whereas Shanghai offered us little more than trendy cocktail joints and expensive rooftop bars on top of the finest hotels (which left us sat in the hostel bar on most evenings), we were now spoilt for choice of watering holes, each offering cheap local beer and a friendly buzzing atmosphere beneath the wooden rafters and crumbling brickwork above. In terms of shops, Louis Vuitton, Cartier and the other so-called 'designer' monstrosities of Shanghai's 'Parisian' avenues have been replaced with quaint and perfectly kitsch souvenir treasure troves (Chairman Mao hologram mouse-mats etc.), delicious street food vendors (3 feet of juicy skewered chicken for £1, for example) and funky home-wares and clothing stores (it's a kind of Angel meets Camden vibe, for the Londoners among you).

Although Shanghai was amazing to see, and kept us entertained for a week or so, within hours of arriving in Beijing we realised, "we don't have enough time", and began working out how we could stay longer than the ten days we'd originally allowed. While sitting in another new café this afternoon with the faithful laptop aglow, we shuffled our itinerary around, cut short our stay in Xi'an and our final stopover in Shanghai and booked a further 4 nights in Beijing. Having buzzed our way through Japan and China for the past three weeks, it is a nice change of pace to have so much time to see the sights while being able to spend the odd day here and there relaxing with a book and a beer or sitting writing postcards as the world files past in the alleyway outside. Yes, Beijing appears to be the slice of China we'd been craving......and one of the Great Wonders of the world lies just 2 hours drive away.

Having taken some time to fully settle in (and because there are so many different fascinating nooks and crannies right on our doorstep that need exploring) we are yet to venture into the wider city, although we did take a long ride out on the Metro on Sunday morning to one of Beijing's biggest antiques markets...

We opted to ignore the guidebook's advice to “be there before the sun comes up for the best bargains”, and instead set the alarm for a compromising 6am (although we did note that the pubs back home in England would still be packed with the Saturday night crowd with it being 11pm there) and were heading to the far side of the city by 6:30 not knowing quite what to expect. What met us was probably the largest market I have ever seen, playing host to permanent buildings and your average temporary stall holders housed beneath large tin shelters. One area was crammed with vendors offering barely a handful of goods laid out across a sheet on the concrete as they squatted back to back with the person behind them.

Having arrived so early, we were pretty much on our own for an hour or so and were able wander in the eerie calmness and soak up the baited anticipation of the frantic day ahead as the market community tucked into their steaming bowls of breakfast noodles. During this 'calm before the storm' we had ample time to seek out the true gems we'd read about; those unique items hidden among the rows and rows of identical carved stone sculptures, artificially aged statues and jade bracelets. Keen to cash in on the cheap postage rates, we wanted to choose a few items to send back to England to remind us of our time in this unique country. With some experience of haggling tucked under our belt during our stay in Shanghai, we were determined not to fall foul of the 'tourist premium' the traders are known to attach to their wares when quoting prices. Spotting a 70's style vintage, 'made in China', wind up alarm clock, (with novelty 'ticking' table tennis bat and ball) we haggled, if I may so myself, like pros, starting out by shaking our heads and laughing as the guy handed us a calculator with his opening offer keyed in. We hastily deducted 50% of this and handed it back to him confidently. We took his 'angry' response and marginally reduced offer as little more than a test of our nerve and batted a slightly increased offer back to him without so much as blinking. Taking the calculator back from him again, we shook our heads harder and began 'the walk away', returning for a moment to tap in a “final offer”, gesturing its finality with a firm swipe of my hand. He glanced at his partner, looked down and held out another figure with pleading arms – we were down to a field just fifty Yuan wide (£5) and concluded the rally by finally walking away with our not-so-shiny, not-so-new alarm clock ticking proudly in my rucksack having negotiated the guy down from almost £30 to a ping ponging'ly satisfying £16..... and it's still ticking! Conversely, the lady who asked for 20 Yuan (£2) for a cool communist propaganda poster (who clearly couldn't understand why we wanted the torn and battered one as opposed to the crisp clean version also for sale) suddenly tried to increase her price to £5 when she was met with none other than the said 20 Yuan in cash after Rosie & I agreed that £2 was a pretty good price for what will become a cool piece of communist artwork once framed.

On Monday we're hiking along the Great Wall of China.......(though not all of it).

On my Birthday...

...Rosie took me swimming (photo below) and then for the famous Peking Duck feast followed by cocktails with live piano. A Birthday to remember!

Beijing is amazing and we already don't want to leave. There's so much to do I'm struggling to find time to blog, but expect a proper update soon.

Settling in in Shanghai

Having spent a week in Shanghai, we are now slowly getting used to a life in China. Having not wanted to make snap judgements about this new country (that and the hostels internet being down for a couple of days) I have waited until now before writing my next blog.

Firstly, the people in Shanghai take a little getting used to, and although we have started realising that most people are genuinely friendly and helpful, this was not immediately apparent and some behaviours were quite a shock to us. For example, the spitting - yes, spitting It seems that it is completely normal and acceptable to spit in the street, and so men and women of all ages are often seen coughing, hacking and then ejecting the contents of their throat onto the pavement. This is not something we are ever going to get on board with, but after a week it has simply become 'one of those things' that we can now smile about.

We learnt quickly that the Chinese don't really 'do' queueing and many situations in which a queue (for us) would seem like the most efficient and fair way of dealing with people (when paying in shops, buying tickets, going through doors, to name a few) the scene here reminds us of the last call at a crowded pub in England, with those who wave, shout and push the hardest getting served first. This also goes for traffic lights, as mentioned in my previous post. A red light does not mean a car will stop, and a green man does not mean a person can (or should) walk. Cars fly from all directions, jumping lights and honking their way through the city. Although cars really are the least of our problems as they are relatively large and easy to spot. The scooters, however, are without doubt the most dangerous element of this city. No one riding them wears a helmet and there is seemingly no limit as to how many people may ride on one. Toddlers stood between the driver's legs, girlfriends in mini skirts balanced precariously in side saddle position on the back, and another passenger squeezed somewhere in between. The most shocking part of the scooter culture is their love of riding on the pavements. Day and night (normally without lights) they continuously beep their horns and swerve around terrified pedestrians - they even wait to cross the road with the rest of us - bizarre! The final string of their lethal bow is that many are now electric powered - and these specimens make absolutely no noise at all, and so, at night, one can neither see nor hear them coming as they whizz up behind you. I'm considering having wing mirrors mounted to the side of my head.

Above all of these intriguing observations, however, the strangest thing in Shanghai would appear to be us; the nervous looking white haired man with knobbly knees and the red headed white girl beside him. Yes, we are drawing quite obvious and unashamedly prolonged stares from a wide variety of the locals, whose gaze can follow us a full 180 degrees as they pass us in the street. Mouths have been known to hang open, friends & partners nudged and nods in our direction cast. It has started to become something of a joke for us and I enjoy staring back, my lower jaw also grazing the pavement in fitting tribute. I have read reports by another British visitor that while sitting outside a cafe in another part of China, they were surrounded by local school children (at the command of the teacher) who pointed and stared, with other passers by even taking photos of them. It will be interesting to see how long the joke lasts for us.

So yes, it has been an interesting week where we have been stared at, frowned at, pushed and shoved and stared at some more, all as we dodge airborne phlegm balls and silent pavement, scooter related death.

But then, in the last 24 hours, something clicked...

We spent Tuesday of this week in retreat, slowly digesting our new surroundings as we rested and relaxed in and around the hostel which is a lovely haven among the chaos of the streets outside. We have a room above a quiet courtyard with a babbling pond complete with goldfish and terrapins, and a bar with a great playlist of British and American tunes (although I'm currently being treated to country and western christmas songs - it's eclectic at least). Here, in the shade of a bamboo bush, we sat; our heads spinning and our confidence in this unfamiliar land slipping. We sipped huge bottles of Tsing Tao beer as the nearby sky scrapers peered down into our peaceful world. We spent time on the internet, reading of other Westerners' experiences in China and of their own ups and downs, and slowly realised that we weren't alone. Perhaps we should embrace these differences, accept that we are definitely not in Japan anymore, and just dive in.

The day after our hibernation (yesterday), we ventured out once again into the unknown. We took in the Shanghai Art Museum and chuckled to ourselves as a middle aged couple stepped over the ropes to take a closer look at each picture while another group of friends had a lively conversation across the previously silent expanse of the galleries main hall. We then had fun exploring some nearby art deco hotels and buying our train tickets to Beijing from a lady who spoke just enough English to understand 'Beijing', yet was extremely helpful and patient as we gestured and pointed at her computer screen. We stepped into a ramshackled restaurant and had the best homemade dumplings we'd tasted this side of Brixton (£3.30 for 18 dumplings and 2 cokes - again, we are not in Japan anymore!) and were very grateful when the smiling tabarded owner showed us how to mix up the condiments to make a tasty dumpling dip of vinegar and chili oil. Later in the day, and with new found confidence, I even purchased a steamed bun from a pavement kiosk for a snack. These are fluffy balls of steamed dough, filled with meat and/or veg although without an English sign in this case, I wasn't sure which. "What's the worst that could happen?" I asked Rosie before biting into the unknown.

"It could be dogmeat", she replied. "Or heart, or brain, or pigs entrails...." Fortunately, it was minced beef..... I think/hope.

At night we explored the buzzing maze of streets and alleyways around Nanjing Street, spotting vendors selling everything from fake DVDs to drumming teddy bears, cherries and fake watches, and enjoyed various groups of local men and women singing, line dancing and waltzing in the blazing lights of the billboards and shop signs above. We held hands tightly and strode into another Chinese restaurant, with faded signs, greasy floors and cheap beer. We ascended the tiny creaky staircase to a windowless room above the main shop. The small space was filled with Chinese people (always a good sign) and bright white strip lighting which hummed above the layer of smoke clinging to the ceiling. Between two large yellowing AC machines, one of those giant animated glowing pictures of a waterfall hung, unplugged, dark, dusty and motionless. If ever there was a time to settle into the Chinese way of life, this was it, and we were already loving it. Menus were thrust at us and we hurriedly jabbed at some familiar looking dishes. The food was absolutely delicious. 

Sticky pork, spicy chili beef and fragrant vegetable spring rolls. No bones, no grissle, no hoofs and no talons - although judging by the food on other tables, this sort of thing was available to those who desired such treats. As we scooped up the last of our feast (leaving only a small amount to avoid offence) and slurping the dregs of yet more giant bottles of beer, we both agreed that actually, Shanghai is a pretty cool place once you get to know it. Vibrant, colourful, bursting at the seams and ready to give the most city-wise Westerners a run for their money. Each corner hides something new; a different style of architecture, another giant neon sign, a view, a smell, a row of street vendors...and probably another scooter.