Steroids

Day 47: Hanoi (VN). If aliens from another planet were to land in Hanoi, they could be forgiven for thinking that our planet was inhabited by motorcycles and not by people - such are the number of two wheeled vehicles that swarm the streets of the Old Quarter of Vietnam's capital city. “I thought the traffic in Mongolia and China was bad!”, I shouted to Karen over the noise of the bikes, “But this place feels like Beijing on Steroids!”

Our travelling adventure just seemed to be getting better and better. Venturing out on to the streets of Hanoi, Vietnam seemed to us to be as culturally diverse compared to China as China had been to Russia. Different people, different food, different customs.

Two million motorcycles vie for position in Hanoi city providing personal transport for individuals, family transport (mum, dad, two children and a dog – not an uncommon site), taxis and commercial haulage (anything and everything; livestock, crates of beer, furniture, plate glass windows – you name it)! And today, as Karen and I tried to cross the road by Hoan Kiem Lake, it felt like every single one of them had taken to the streets to welcome us to this enchanting city! Such is the number of bikes and such is the poor standard of road craft that forty bikers a day die on these roads. However, despite those appalling statistics it actually felt like the most dangerous form of transport in this city happened to be walking (our chosen way of navigating the city!) It's not that there aren't any pavements – there are and they are very wide. The problem is you can't get to then because every square inch is covered with motorcycles!

Two things kept our sanity that day. The first was the intoxicating qualities of Vietnam's Xeo (rice wine): Available straight or fruity at 50p a glass. The second was Bia Hoi – the worlds cheapest street beer at just 25p a pint. You know, I think we're going to enjoy it here!

Apocalypse Now

Day 46: Nanning (CN) – Hanoi (VN). “I hope we've got our sums right here otherwise we could have one enormous overdraft when we return home!”, I exclaimed as Karen pressed the confirm key on the ATM to withdraw 2 million Vietnamese Dong (hopefully, about £80!).

The early morning bus had taken us as far as the Chinese border and, as we had come to expect with anything Chinese, the formalities of exiting the country were dealt with in a very efficient and business like manner.

In stark contrast to the approach adopted by the Vietnamese immigration officials! Leaving the very clean and modern Chinese buildings we we whisked across the area of no-man's land between China and Vietnam on golf buggies (how cool is that!) to arrive at a very run down and dirty building with ageing timbers and a corrugated tin roof. Inside pandemonium ensued as we were processed by the army of laissez-faire officials. Unsure whether we had been the victims of a border scam, Karen and I had to pay the border guards for a medical certificate which consisted of us both having to tick a box confirming that we felt 'OK' on entering the country!

Catching the Hanoi bound bus on the Vietnamese side of the border the scenery was astonishing: With high mountains, terraced rice fields and palm trees, it felt like we were part of a scene from Apocalypse Now (maybe that was Marlon Brando we saw in that bar at the side of the road!). I watched the highway snake back and forth as the bus negotiated the narrow mountain passes, the sun glinting off the smooth asphalt,and started to think how wonderful it would be for Karen and I to ride these roads on our motorcycles. Two miles down the road however, we witnessed the remains of a bike that had come second place in an argument with a twenty-four ton truck. Closing my eyes settling down in my seat to get some rest before we reached Hanoi, I thought I should probably forget the idea. At least for now.

Delightfully Uninspiring

Day 45: Nanning (CN). Billed by the Lonely Planet as '..hard to love due to its relentless urban sprawl...', there wasn't a great deal to commend us to the city of Nanning. There was no Great Wall to walk, no clay soldiers to uncover and no spectacular scenery to lose ourselves in. In fact, Nanning was as average and as uninspiring a city that you could possibly care to stumble upon. But we loved it.

We were here, not by virtue of what the city could offer, but by necessity as we planned our onward travel route through southern China right down to the Vietnamese border. But it was precisely these kind of non-eventful days that we had set about encountering before we embarked on our overland adventure. For Karen and I, these kind of days marked the difference between the 'travelling' we wanted to do and the 'break-neck tourism' that had traditionally formed the theme of our holidays. With nothing to do and no-where to go, today was all about chilling: Long lunches, window shopping and whiling the hours over a cup of the local tea - watching the world go by. Perfect!

And by taking time, even humdrum places like Nanning can prove to be fascinating. Well off of the tourist trail, this city and it's people were as 'Chinese' as it gets. Such was the complete lack of any western influence on the restaurant menus that Karen and I found it quite difficult to find anything we wanted to order - although, I'm sure in some part, that had to do with the literal translations used to help English ignoramus like us. For instance, I challenge anyone (western or eastern) to get enthused by the prospect of 'Miscellaneous Pig's Bits' or for anyone's digestive juices to start flowing when offered the delightful 'Mashed Frog in a Pot'!

Tropics

Day 44: Yangshuo (CN) – Nanning (CN). “We could fly into Shanghai, go down to Yangshuo, then up to Lijiang and across to Lhasa”, I suggested. Karen wiped the condensation from the window of the bus with her hand, gave a small nod and watched the little town of Yangshuo disappear in to the distance.

So impressed were we with China, that here we were, less than half way through our current travelling adventure already talking about what we would do when we returned next time. China had provided everything we wanted from our travels: Culture, diversity, scenery, interesting people and great food. But alas, as we only had a few days remaining on our visas, we now had to start making our way to the border and planning our route out of the country.

Heading south on the daily service bus to the city of Nanning, we passed through the 23rd parallel of latitude putting us geographically into the Tropic of Cancer. Outside it was still drizzling and the temperature was a chilly 8C, but after our cold trip through China, we hoped that now we were in the tropics it would signify the start of warmer and sunnier weather to come.

Market Day

Day 43: Yangshuo (CN). Enquiring of Lily, the best day to visit the travelling markets in the outlying villages of Yangshuo, we received the following reply: “Markets take place every third day, however , after the third market the next one is in four days not three but this doesn't happen in all towns – there are no markets on the 10th, 20, 30th and 31st of the month”. Miraculously, and by accident rather than design, we happened to stumble upon Xinngping on market day!

For these small communities the travelling markets are the social and economic highlight of the week but for Karen and me they provided a fascinating way to while away a few hours and an opportunity to learn a little bit more about the Guangxi region of China. Vibrant, bustling and noisy; the smell of fresh spices and cooking wafted through the air as we meandered through the lanes perusing the sellers wares.

From our western, point of view, the market provided a challenge to our own expectations: In what looked like the pet area, caged animals squawked and barked, only for us to realise we were actually walking down the food aisles. A local man loaded an 8 ft tree on to the back of his motorcycle while his wife rode pillion; clutching the weeks shopping and two live chickens under both arms. “It's only strange to us because it's different”, Karen said, wisely “Imagine what they would think if they came to England and saw us eating baked beans on toast and collecting the newspaper in our gas guzzling 4x4's”. I laughed, but she was absolutely right.

In need of lunch time refreshments we stumbled on a intriguing little café with a whole menagerie of live animals on the terrace: Snakes, chickens, pheasants and pigeons. Caged at the back of the shop were two of the most enormous bamboo rats we had ever seen; available fried or boiled. On this occasion we politely declined, and settled for a nice cup of jasmine tea!

Sanjie Liu

Day 42: Yangshuo. I can't explain why, but some things just fuse together perfectly - like chocolate & chillies for instance or strawberries & black pepper. On the face of it, it sounds like a disgusting combination, but experience it first hand and it you know it just works. Deliciously!

And that's how it felt witnessing 'Impressions Sanjie Liu', Yangshuo's hottest show. Bringing together the polish and production of a Lloyd/Webber show, the artistic majesty of the Royal Ballet and the magic and glitz of Walt Disney. An unusual combination that shouldn't really work, but in this production directed by Chinese movie maker Zhang Yimou, it did. Perfectly, movingly and entertainingly.

Billed as a 'Folk Musical'' the performance was acted out in the dead of night on the Li River (yes, that's right, they performed on the Li River), with the gargantuan proportions that we had come to expect of anything Chinese. For a start the backdrop was provided by illuminating 12 of the surrounding karst peaks. Thrown in to the mix were 600 local fisherman, a similar number of local school children, a choir, the town ballet troupe, 100 bamboo rafts, half a dozen cows, a score of cormorants and more light bulbs, candles and dry ice than you can shake a stick at.

In an experience reminiscent of the Balshoi, Karen and I had been fortunate enough to witness in Moscow so many weeks ago this was a tear jerking event. Conducted entirely in Mandarin we were unable to understand the narrative, but as with the ballet it really didn't matter. The power of the dance, the music and the production was all we needed to bring our senses alive.

Tucking in to a late supper of fresh river shrimps and beer fish we both enthused about the evening's entertainment. “I couldn't believe the co-ordination of all of those dancers”, Karen said cheerfully. “And the lights. Fantastic”.

The excellent food added to our high spirits. Since we arrived in China we hadn't had a bad meal. Sure, some dishes were better than others, and the food in each region of China varied extensively, but we had yet to order something that we didn't devour heartily. And the further south we appeared to travel in this huge country the more we seemed to enjoy it. A perfect evening all round.

Day 42: Total Mileage to Date: 10,899: Number of Time Zones Crossed: 9; Number of Countries Visited: 8; Number of Transport Modes Used: 23, Maximum Temperature Encountered: +15C, Minimum Temperature Encountered: -32C.

Picture Postcard

Day 41: Yangshuo. A little out of breath after ascending the 1,251 stairs of the natural stone staircase leading to the top of Moon Hill, Karen and I fell silent. From our high vantage point, we were intoxicated by the dreamlike scenery that lay before us. In every direction - as far as the eye could see. All we could do was stand and stare.

The karst topography around Yangshuo is world famous, and such is it's beauty, it has become iconic with images of China. Soaring limestone peaks, rice fields, lazy rivers and tiny villages – the true face of rural China. The weather; cold and misty, somehow seemed to add to the atmosphere of this place and for the first time in days Karen and I forgot about our desires to head to warmer climes – right now, this is where we wanted to be.

Determined to see as much of Yangshuo's outlying countryside, Karen and I took to cycling, along country lanes and farm tracks, every bend in the road gave us a new picture postcard view, a new perspective to enjoy. So addictive was the scenery, so compulsive was the desire to 'let's just see what's down here' that we covered over 30km before our backsides started to complain about the levels of comfort offered by the rather narrow saddles of our rental bikes!

Inspired by the change of scenery, Karen bravely decided it was time for a change of hairstyle. Now, when I had my hair trimmed back in Beijing; getting over the language barrier was quite straightforward: I just pointed to the clippers and spaced a 3 millimetre gap with my fingers. But for Karen, it was a little more complicated. Clutching a piece of paper with some rudimentary Chinese phrases, meaning “Nothing off length, but layers” she sat down in the salon across from the hotel and thumbed through the pictures of a magazine looking for suitable Chinese hairs-styles. By this time she was causing quite a stir and a small crowd of local people gathered around as the stylist lobbed half her hair off with an implement resembling a machete. “It looks OK”, I said encouragingly as she emerged 1 hour later and £2 lighter. “I'm not sure about the back”, she replied hesitantly. “Perhaps I'll wait until we get home before I have it cut again!”