In China, everything is big. Tiananmen Square is as big as a city block. If it were up to me to mow down protestors I would have gotten lost, even in a tank. The Chinese are probably used to big things, at least in their public areas; when we got to more private areas, things got smaller; when we got to slums (although I’m not sure that was planned), things got tiny and old men stood around on the laneways, smoking pipes and watching the tourists.

The ride through the slums on bicycle-powered carriages was our reward for walking all day through enormous monuments. The Forbidden City had five or six gigantic audience rooms where the royal family was decked out among the painted pillars. I wondered how they knew which audience room to use, the first one for the businessmen probably, so they didn’t advance too far in, and then rooms for the soldiers and nobles. Peasants? Probably not, it was the Forbidden City after all.

We traipsed through courtyard after courtyard. Everything was dirty, I found a ‘vivid’ setting on my camera and I took all my photos with that. One courtyard had racks of costumes, and the Chinese (of which there were many) had their photo taken in costume. There were special pathways only the nobles could use and spots where only they could stand, the Chinese fought to have their photo taken standing on those spots.

There was a Starbucks in one courtyard where we were encouraged to rest and buy a coffee though we told them there were no Americans in the tour group.

“You speak English, don’t you?” said the tour guide, and there the matter rested. The coffee shop at least was cool, though the coffee was bad, and there were lots of people to sell us paintings while we drank.

Then we were into the private apartments. These were smaller and had lots of gardens decorated with rocks. The Chinese love rocks and bring them from all over China. They’re meant to resemble things but they just look like rocks to me. Never mind, the tour guide told us what they were supposed to resemble and we nodded and said: “ah yes” and hoped it was better than the Chinese food we were having for dinner. Actually they do food in China better than rocks.

People walk four abreast in the streets here and there were countless bicycles outside the bank. I could see why everything was dirty, they all drive like lunatics and the streets are full of cars. The tour group made me sit in the front seat, next to the driver. Thanks to my stepfather, I was the only one who could handle the driving. At least I saw everything, though it was harrowing at times.

The next day we were off to the Great Wall, which, contrary to rumour, cannot be seen from space but marches all over the landscape anyway. I picked up a follower who tried to carry my bag (I wouldn’t let her) and marched with me up the stairs till I finally bought a T-shirt from her and she disappeared. I marched up and down a few more stairways till I was exhausted and stopped at a café to increase my sugar intake. It was near a wall so I had to climb back to take more photos. The stairs were crumbly and I had to watch my footing. There was a fort every time the wall changed direction but the forts were empty, more like balconies where I imagined Chinese soldiers in enamelled armour, shivering and watching for barbarians creeping among the hills.

Just as we left Beijing we were taken to the Chinese doctors. These were old men who held our wrists while pretending not to see us (they can’t see women or hear us either) and told our tour guides in Chinese everything that was wrong with us. The cure was herbal and came in the form of expensive ‘dung balls’ of which we had to take 15 a day. There were lots of dung balls in each packet so there was actually a limit on how many packets you were expected to buy, but still, it was a lot to pay for dirt which was supposed to have herbal properties. But then what are European tourists for.

We saw the terracotta warriors and were introduced to the farmer who discovered them, at least the one who was on this shift. He signed a book about the warriors and then they whisked us off to buy stuff. I thought I’d buy some ink for the Chinese painting I was learning but he wanted 50 yuan for it so I said no. Like magic, the price dropped to ten yuan so I decided to buy the ink after all.  Then we were back in the bus and on to Wuhan were they were going to start our tour of the Yangtze River before it was drowned by the dam they were building.

They’d been doing some salvage archaeology and in Wuhan they had a museum with all their findings and then some. The extra were brand new pots, with no cracks where they’d been patched together and no dirt rubbed into the cracks as you usually find in things that have been dug up. I asked the attendant if they were new. “Ching Dynasty,” she assured me. That was the latest dynasty that ended at the beginning of the twentieth century. I didn’t believe her so I bought a jade teapot they said was Ming Dynasty. It had lots or dirt rubbed into the body. They gave me a certificate of authenticity which was full of Chinese characters done in Texta.

The half-finished dam was enormous, dwarfing our little boat which had seemed so big. We sailed past rows and rows of enormous cement blocks, which I tried to photograph, and out onto the river which was peaceful. On the first night we watched the sun set from the deck at the front of the boat, then went inside to the lounge room and watched the Chinese singing karaoke. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, they sang Chinese pop songs and I wanted to sing along but I couldn’t. I don’t know much Chinese.

There was a lecture on pearls where the girl who gave it spoke English. I told her to get a job in one of the hotels, where they don’t, but she turned up her nose. She said few people spoke English and they were trying to learn as fast as they could because they wanted more tourists. She wanted to be a tour guide but when I suggested she talk to our tour guides about how to get a job she was reluctant. Apparently she felt they wouldn’t want to talk to her.

They took us out in smaller boats and showed us more rocks, including those to be found on the Yangtze’s tributaries. There were also lots of cave mouths along the way and young boys in fishing boats. They were the most fascinating, they pulled their little boats right on to the stony beaches on the riverside. I thought that would be a nice life with the sun and the fresh air all day but they probably wanted mine. We passed temples and visited towns along the river which had pagodas to see. I made friends with an old Chinese women who was roaming the cabins and she warned me to take an umbrella. I tried to tell her thank you in my best Chinese and she abruptly disappeared. “You probably told her, her son was dead,” whispered one of my tourmates over my shoulder and I felt guilty for the rest of the day. I still feel guilty actually.

At Chongqing the tour of the Yangtse ended and there was a serious climb from where the boat docked to the city. There were people stationed on the stairs ready to carry overweight Western women and their bags up the stairs. For money, of course, though they made no demands till they got you to the top of the stairs. I told them to go away and walked myself carrying my own bags and my rolls of fat but judging by the looks on the faces of some of the women, they didn’t want to be carried and they didn’t want to pay money. Mostly you didn’t have a choice, they just grabbed you. We wandered around a bit and I marvelled at the fact that their department stores were just like ours, then we flew across the country to Shanghai.

I expected Shanghai to be the most Westernised city on our tour and found it to be one of the nicest. As the bus drove up to our hotel in the Bund, there were mostly Western style buildings and a promenade along the river lit up like a city somewhere in the West but Shanghai has both; parts of the city preserved the old China. There were Chinese gardens with a dragon atop the wall and round doorways. They are considered prosperous. The market which was much better than the main shopping street and there was a tea shop where they put tight round green walnuts into a glass and the walnuts opened out, with hot water, into beautiful yellow flowers. I was fascinated, I kept buying my tea in Chinese tea shops after that but the ones in Australia didn’t stock them.

After we finished with the past, we took a train under the river and visited the TV tower (colloquially known as ‘balls on a stick’). We took a lift to the top to see Shanghai and all its clouds. There was an old man signing books up here too. They must pay them well. Probably a retirement job.

A few days later, it was Chinese National Day but it seems like business as usual in Kunming where I went after Shanghai. All the banks are supposed to be closed but when I passed the Bank of China, its doors were open and the usual mass of bicycles were parked outside. Perhaps they’re just not exchanging travellers cheques. I wouldn’t know because the ATMs seem to be working fine and are spitting out the local currency. The blocks in Kunming are bigger than Tiananmen Square and what looks like a short walk takes forever.

I decided to go to the Stone Forest at Shilin. It was a chance to go on my own and see how I managed when not in Europe where I mostly knew the languages and even when I didn’t they seemed familiar. I took my Mandarin phrase book and managed ok with the cab driver who took me to the railway station. I managed to ask the lady at the railway station office if my ticket was a return ticket (it was, the lady from the tour operator said it wasn’t). I met a couple on the train who didn’t speak any English and managed to communicate, if a little hesitatingly. He blocked the breeze coming in my window in any case.

I met a nice Chinese man who invited me to join his tour group from Guandong and said he was perfectly willing to translate for me. Sure, I thought, while you practise your English but I disappointed him anyway because I was determined to get by on my own. There were sign posts and I had a map, but I ended up regretting that decision when I found myself alone on dangerous pathways with broken rocks. It had been raining and everything was wet and slippery, including my shoes though they were the best hiking boots I could find in Sydney. The Stone Forest was full of rocks with shapes I couldn’t see though the map told me all about them. The Chinese must have weird imaginations, I decided.

The next tour started the following day and we went first to Dali, the hippy capital of China where marihuana grows wild in the streets. I found some but I’d given up smoking by that stage and anyway, I didn’t think they’d let me back in Australia. After breakfast, the tour guides arranged for us to ride on buggies, where I nearly lost my breakfast; it was the best roller coaster ride I’ve had in years. Then we took a boat across to an island where they had a market. We saw tobacco drying and pigs cut open. There was about six centimetres of fat around the meat and I thought of it reduced to crackling and how my mother loved it. I was glad I didn’t.

We went to the boat captain’s house for lunch and ate Chinese food Yunnan-style in the large courtyard of a house with wooden panels and lots of tiny pictures. Most of the houses here are decorated with pictures. The next day we decided to climb the nearby mountain with a Buddhist temple up the top. We took a chair lift up and I could feel my stomach deciding it didn’t like this ride when the lift stopped, dangling in the air halfway up the mountain. I was paired with someone who was also afraid of heights so we kept talking. Eventually the chairlift started up again.

I decided to walk down on the theory it wasn’t up and there was no chairlift, but that turned out to be a big mistake too because halfway down I fell and sprained my ankle. The ground was still wet and slippery from yesterday and before I knew it I was sitting on my backside worried about it getting dirty. We tied my foot up tight within my hiking boots and I managed to make it down the mountain but after that I needed a walking stick. I saw Chinese women walking up and down the mountain in high heels and wondered why they didn’t sprain their ankles. We did see the lake from the mountain, it was shaped like an ear but was so big, it dominated the view, so at first I didn’t see it.

From there we went to Lijiang. Both Dali and Lijiang went for world heritage status and Lijiang got it which for us meant the bus wasn’t allowed in the centre and we had to carry our luggage. Fortunately the tour guide organised carts. It also meant the shops were right at our doorstep so I did a lot of shopping while I was wandering around. My favourite was a pharmacy which reminded me of the witches in Macbeth (“double double toil and trouble”). It had two aisles and some items in the display had shrivelled legs (or wings). Some of the items were just shrivelled, one of my favourite pastimes was walking along the aisles identifying things. I wish we had shops like that in Sydney though I seem to remember a few in Marrickville.

After that we went to Tiger Leaping Gorge and saw a narrow Yangtse that was flowing brown. The bus took a narrow road above it and had to drive very close to the edge and back up when another bus wanted to pass it in the opposite direction. They let us off and we started to walk, me with my walking stick until we flagged down a car and I bummed a ride. Looking out the back window I could see right over the road and down the mountain. My stomach was in my mouth so I couldn’t yell at anyone and anyway I was grateful for the ride. For a country road it was very crowded, cars and people everywhere. And booms like rocks falling which freaked me out. Eventually I had to walk again so I hobbled along and arrived, in the rain, at the guesthouse.

The guesthouse had a veranda with chairs and food and enormous mountains all around. I spent two days there while the others went walking higher and it was pleasant to sit in the fresh air looking at mountains rather than traipsing on them. I spent a lot of time there and in the bathroom where, despite being a traditional Chinese hole in the ground the seats were raised and the view was phenomenal. When it came time to leave it appeared the bus could come right to the guest house after all, and though my stomach was still in my mouth and I was afraid of rocks falling on the roof, we were bussed out of the guest house and on to Zhongdian where we toured a Tibetan monastery and had tea with butter. There were some young monks playing with planks in the pond and when I started filming them they were right beside me looking at the camera. They liked it when I played back the film I had taken.

Then it was back on the plane and here I am in  Australia wishing I had to do it all again.