Bye Bye China- Sabai Dee, Laos...

We weren’t expecting much of our last night in China; we’d travelled it to a tiny town called Mengla to easily take the bus into Laos.  Though the town itself was unmemorable, there were a few memorable moments, with a few China must-do’s ticked off the list for good measure. First, we went into a humble little restaurant to get our last fix of noodles Chinese-style. I’d noticed the chef kneading and twisting dough at the restaurant doorway, but didn’t think much of it. Then I saw him place thin dough drips into a huge bubbling vat of water…he was making homemade noodles! For the Martz family: very similar process to how we made pasta in Italy, except he wasn’t getting as messy as I did! Patrick and I agreed that they were probably the best noodles yet; the already delicious taste and gooey-crunchy texture were only enhanced by seeing them made in front of our eyes.

     As we searched for a decent watering hole to toast our time in China, avoiding the dubious brothel-esque places, we suddenly came across a local park. While in the UK, parks at night tend to attract underage teenagers drinking Barcardi Breezers, China pulls a very different sort of crowd. On one side were about 30 people practicing a Tai-Chi routine to slow music; they just all seemed to know the moves instinctively. I particularly enjoyed the shocking karate-chop move in amongst the slow waving arms and bending legs, even if it did make me jump! In the middle of the park, a few couples were playing badminton, though they could barely see the shuttlecock in the semi-darkness. On the other side, another group of around 30 were practicing something very different from Tai Chi; the music was slightly jazzier, with dance-moves that I can only describe as a mix between country-dancing with salsa. Imagine that, if you will! No pictures, unfortunately- I didn’t have my camera! As we people-watched with a kind of curious delight, an old man came and spoke Chinese to us: after a few minutes, he said something like ‘You don’t understand, do you?’, gave us a beaming, slightly gappy smile, and sat next to us silently, enjoying the evening entertainment alongside us.

   So, that was one China must-do out of the way- watch a park-based Tai Chi session. Another thing we’ve been searching for since we’ve been in China is the karaoke bars, that have proved more elusive than you’d think. But lo and behold, we passed about 6 or 7 on the way home; I can’t think of any better soundtrack to end my night, and indeed our time in China, then Chinese twentysomethings wailing their favourite Chinese pop songs with all their heart and soul.

   The next morning was an early start; our bus left at 8am! Well, it was scheduled to leave then- it actually left around 9am, after stuffing seemingly endless supplies of flower bouquets, long bamboo sticks and melons under the bus. The fairly uneventful journey took about 12 hours, with a few long stops either side of the border to sort out immigration stuff. Being the only foreigners on our bus, we were always holding everyone up; all the passengers seemed good-natured about it, though! Everything went without a hitch; we were stamped out of China, and given a visa to Laos with no troubles (and no extra rip-off extra payments!).  The only thing we were worried about was knowing where to get off; it was going to be dark when we arrived in Luang Prabang. But, as ever, it was much simpler than we thought, and we stepped off the bus to the chorus of many tuk-tuk invitations. Ah, it was like being in India again (especially when the tuk-tuk we chose became piled up with 4 extra people, a big white box, and a baby balanced precariously on his father’s lap).

We’d only travelled a short way over the China border, but it soon clear that we were in a very different world.  Everybody was very smiley, approachable and spoke a little English. The latter especially is going to take some getting used to- no more exaggerated mimes and wild pointing! We even managed a little cheeky haggle for our room with a very sweet Lao guy, even if he did take a LOT of persuading…

   As I write, we are in Vang Vieng, home of tubing craziness, after taking a minibus from Luang Prabang yesterday. If I had to personify both of these places…Luang Prabang would be a classy, pristinely dressed lady in sparkling white, eager to please travelers and obsessed with cleanliness, yet with a slightly wild, luscious side on the outskirts…Vang Vieng would be a crazy raver, obsessed with Friends, Family Guy and Simpsons. There's a potential mellow side to Vang Vieng- the riverside mountain scenery is truly serene and mystical- but even this part of her is permeated by an eternal partying spirit...(more on our tubing bar crawl experience in the next blog entry...)

   The Luang Prabang- Vang Vieng journey (despite the vomit-inducing windy roads) was probably the highlight so far: the green undulating hills were stunning, but it was observing everyday life happening in the roadside wooden village huts that really interested me. A little kid running to his grandfather, a man sitting outside his hut writing his diary, women huddled around a leaping fire to keep warm, little girls carrying man-sized wood planks on their head at dusk, little boys rolling down construction site sand dunes…this is what I came to Laos to see. Ordinary people living their lives.  I just hope I can meet some of these people first-hand in the next few weeks…

XieXie for the Memories, China...

A few poems I wrote when reflecting on my time in China, and while entering Laos…

On The Street

Perfectly poised

between your teeth,

your paintbrush tells your story,

of how you lost those hands of yours

how you're betrayed by this land of yours

of how you're here, on the street.

Crowds stoop and stare

at your hard work 

to read your tragic story.

I cannot read these words of yours,

I cannot live these hurts of yours

as I stand here, on the street.

To me, your words are like an art,

To you, my words set us apart

as we lock eyes, on the street.

To you, my white face brings a buck,

To me, your poor fate's brought bad luck

to bring you here, on the street.

I'm just happy we got to meet.

Blind To My Gestures

Blind to my gestures,

deaf to my words-

how does a Westerner get to be heard?

I can't read Chinese

nor understand

when you speak, though I try- this is your land.

It's the opposite

to what I know-

to you, I probably seem very slow.

Give me a minute,

I'll get my book

to translate this word- let me have a look.

I know that it's lazy

and wrong of me

to expect English spoken easily.

When I try to speak

your Mandarin,

I really don't know where I should begin!

Always feeling lost,

nowhere to turn;

I guess this provides a lesson to learn-

You should help others

Though you can't speak

Their language- it will make their day less bleak!

Next time I come back, 

One thing's for sure,

I will have studied my phrasebook much more!

Borders

Funny how when you cross one border,

Things can suddenly lose all order,

Time stands still, and so does the bus,

And for once, everybody's not waiting for us!

Here we are in Laos, let the good times roll,

Where biking will be good for the soul.

No Cycling, But Lots Of Photo Uploading...

...As the title suggests, we've updated the blog with pics from the Terracotta Warrior entry to the most recent Jinghong entry; hope you enjoy them! Sorry they've taken a while!
  As the title also suggests, the cycling tour that I excitedly spoke of in the last blog post...didn't happen so much. It wasn't our fault; we fully intended to cycle round local villages once we'd bussed it to Damenglong. However, we were faced with 3 major things stopping us. One, we weren't totally sure we were in Damenglong until the day after we arrived. Two, it was BLOODY HOT. And three, there were no bicycle rental places. So...yeah, failure on the biking tour front. It was still an interesting place to visit though, even if it was a little challenging- we wandered around for an hour trying to find a hotel in the completely non-English speaking dusty little town. We were even able to find a little peace under a faux-Bodhi tree, complete with tiny Buddha, whilst overlooking the gorgeous surrounding countryside: luscious fields and banana plantations stretching to the Myanmar border.
   So, back in Jinghong, the plan now is to leave for Mengla tomorrow, then hopefully Laos the next day! Although who knows- our plans seem to change everyday...

Fake Chinese Gangsters, and Me? On a Bike? Hilarious...

...but true! More on that in a mo...
   First, Jinghong...or maybe I should start with the semi-dramatic journey to the Kunming bus station...That day had been a slow one, mostly because we were too lazy and wimpish to venture out into the cold weather sans jackets. We seriously need to man up. Always seeking some sort of adventure, that evening we decided to catch two public buses to the bus station, rather than the much easier taxi option. Little did we know what an adventure it would be!...The first bus was a breeze; only 10 minutes long and fairly roomy. The second bus, however, was to last about an hour and a half, and was barely bigger than the average minibus. Add to this half of Jinghong piling on, and no windows open, and you've got yourself a pretty claustrophobic atompshere...About an hour in, I started getting the wave of nausea, the white spots, the momentary blindness, all the fainting cliches...and I was standing in possibly the worst place: by the exit. I soon stumbled into Patrick and a random Chinese lady and was pushed into a seat, where everything became clear again. Pretty scary moment, I'm not gonna lie. Completely due to the bus's heat though- please don't worry! I blame it on the awesome guy who was singing along to the 'Backstreet Boys Greatest Hits' playing on his Ipod. While he was on there, I was feeling fine and singing along with him to my heart's content, especially enjoying his interpretation of that lesser known Backstreet classic, 'The Call'. It was when he left that I started to feel queasy. Co-incidence?...
   Anyway, enough of self-pity...onto Jinghong! We really have become tangled in this town's laid-back atmosphere...we just can't seem to escape! Of course, the tropical vibe helps, with temperatures edging into the 20s and palm trees lining the streets. Our awesomely cheap hotel has also brought incentive to stay longer- 50 Yuan a night! That's 5 pounds, 8 Canadian bucks! Ensuite too- a novelty we haven't enjoyed in a while! It's fair to say that our best experience so far has probably come when we were at our most intoxicated states!...We were enjoying a few bevvies in Mekong Cafe, as you do, and then enjoying a few more back in our hotel room. Of course, the inevitable munchies came, so we headed out to the local vicinity to pick up some noodles. After trying (and failing miserably) to convey our food needs to one Chinese bar, we eventually stopped at an outdoor place we'd visited the day before, where we'd enjoyed a noodle breakfast for a bargain 4 Yuan. As we sat at the modest plastic table and low stools, the owners of the restaurant suddenly invited us over to finish the leftovers of the Dai barbecue they'd been cooking. Even though it soon became clear that neither spoke the other's language, it was truly a thrill to be eating in their company. Despite their true kindness and unfaltering hospitality- we were given beer-filled paper cups without a word- it was a fellow Chinese customer that made the evening truly memorable. Throughout our feast of barbecued snail, sauteed spinach and Dai-fired fish, he kept coming over to talk to us in excited Mandarin. His main focus was on the Nepalese Buddhist necklaces that Patrick was wearing on his wrist, as he kept showing us his own, presumably Buddhist necklace. He looked like a Chinese gangster with his suave suit and trilby; he even conveyed as much with joking, albeit slightly disturbing, 'cut-throat' and 'head-twist' gestures to us. Our hosts found his presence hilarious; whether it was our misunderstanding, or his genuine comedic words, who can say! Anyway, the whole meal was an amazing experience, and one which really made us realize how introductions are unnecessary to the sheer enjoyment of another person's company.
   Now, onto our most recent ventures- biking! For those of you who know me, this sounds like a fairly unbelievable concept- me, on a bike, actually managing to ride it. I can't remember the last time I rode a bike. My own mother tells me of how my face was crestfallen the day I received a bike as a child, being the scardey-cat that I was. But, now is the time to try new things, so we headed to the bike shop yesterday to rent two bikes for the day. Our intention was to make it to the Gasa Hot Springs- natural hot springs that appear in the Dai village of Gasa, just outside Jinghong. However, our slightly dodgy map took us to the equivalent of a dual-carriageway type road, and due to my shaky (at best) riding skills, we had to abort the mission. However, last night we discovered a much better map that suggested a much less scary and dangerous route to the Hot Springs. So, today we returned to the Bike Shop, determined not to return in the same three-hour slot as the day before!
    And, I'm pleased to announce...it was a semi success! Well, we actually made it to the Springs today- and I actually managed to ride a bike for most of it! Of course, I still had my nervous moments on the roads, but for most of the predominantly-countryside ride, I was carefree and loving it! Clouds have been hanging over us ominously all day, but they must have sensed the magnitude of my fear, because all we got was a light breeze and a few sunny tidbits. Once we finally managed to find them, the Hot Springs were not dissimilar to a swimming pool. The only difference was the slight eggy whiff of sulphur, and the pleasantly warm temperature of the water. At first it was just us and two other Chinese guys in hilariously tight and matching navy swimsuits; however, a family of 8 soon joined us as well, with their slightly (OK, very) annoying child. We still spent a few great, relaxing hours there before cycling back triumphantly to Jinghong. I was a little shaky again on the way back, but it was a HUGE improvement on the first day, when I considered cycling 10 metres a huge achievement! I'm definitely more stable now, and I was able to ride in the bike lanes of Jinghong today without too much panic or faltering...

   Our Xishuangbanna adventure is not over yet! Tomorrow, we head out of Jinghong for a few days, cycling around the surrounding villages- exciting times! Not long left in China- we head to Laos in less than a week. Christmas there, then New Year's in Bangkok! Can't believe its so close to Christmas- am feeling even less Christmassy than last year in Australia, if that's even possible. We're both missing you all lots! See you after our cycling tour!

Getting Warmer...

So, our visit to Kunming has been short and sweet. Yesterday the beautiful sunshine brought the teeniest bit of warmth, which added to the general relaxed aura of the city. Not much to report from the city really; we settled into the vibe and just took it easy, with a cheeky bit of Christmas shopping.
   A few odd sights dotted around the pedestrian shopping area...a line of Chinese people in doctor-esque white coats lining the pavements, giving not-so-relaxing massages to tired shoppers. We saw one man literally hoisted off his feet, back-to-back with the 'doctor' and yelping a little in relief/pain/who knows. Another sight was one that will stay with me a little longer...a peacefully sleeping little boy laid out on a fold out bed beside the pavement, tubes coming out from his stomach into a clear bag. His mother was sitting besides him, looking worried sick, with a hat for shopper contributions in front of them. Now, we're used to beggars regularly coming up to us, but this was something else altogether...I won't forget that in a hurry.
   So, tomorrow morning we leave for Jinhong on a 10 hour bus ride (short by our standards!), the capital of the Xishuangbanna region. Before I sign off, just wanted to post an article I discovered today that is brilliantly written and has pretty much read my thoughts...Pico Iyer's 'Why We Travel'. The part about how big American chains can seem unfamiliar and exotic is particularly relevant for China; every city has dozens of KFCs and McDonalds, but they still have a distinct Chinese flavour that is alien to me. I'll end on a quotation from the article by a Spanish philosopher called Santayana that encompassed why Patrick and I travel: “There is wisdom in turning as often as possible from the familiar to the unfamiliar; it keeps the mind nimble; it kills prejudice, and it fosters humor.”

The Most Fiery Food Yet, And A Ride We Won't Forget...

Well, the last few days in Chengdu and Chongquing have certainly awakened our senses! Our tastebuds tingled after the fiery 'hotpots', our hearts raced wearing our heavy backpacks on the back of motorbikes...
   But before I delve into that, let me talk about our visit to see one of China's greatest treasures- the PANDA BEAR (for some reason, we keep saying this in an American Deep South drawl). For once, we chose not to brave the Chinese public transport and instead took a hostel tour of Chengdu Panda Breeding Base. This turned out to be a great decision, as our driver got there early, and seemed to know all the best panda spotting places. The first hour was the best- it seemed like we were the only ones in the whole park. Pandas really are adorable- they potter out in their peculiar way, like both of their back legs are broken, then slump down on their backs, grab the nearest bamboo stem (or just steal their friend's), and chow down for hours. They seem completely oblivious to our gawping stares and incessant picture-taking. As Patrick pointed out, their laid-back postures are so akin to a human guy lounging on a sofa that it's hard to believe that they're not just men in bear suits! We've probably just fallen for another big-scale scam- we're pretty good at that, after all...(I'm only joking, those pandas are very real...I think...)

   Anyway, we also had the privilege to see some red pandas (the love child of a raccoon and a fox), and some bubba pandas, 5 months old, all laid on their backs in a square yellow cot like human babies (I'm not continuing with my theme, I'm sure they're not real babies...). From an educational film, we learned extensively (ahem) about panda breeding processes, including a 'massage and electrical stimulation method' to extract semen, and that mama panda bears tend to slap their baby around the floor as soon as they've given birth, as though suspicious of this pink thing that's one thousandth of the mama's size, and screaming like a banshee!
    Pandas were the main draw to Chengdu, but it would be rude not to try the local fiery Sichuan cuisine. To spice up our lives, we headed to a restaurant that specialized in 'hotpots'. Probably our favourite Chinese dish to date, the hotpot, or 'huoguo', is a VERY spicy broth, dotted with chillies and mouth-numbing (literally) peppercorns that acts as a king of meat-and-veg fondue. There's a possibility of a 'yuanyang' version, a milder broth alongside the spicy one, that the non-English speaking staff assumed our lame Western taste-buds would need. Little did they know that they were dealing with Patrick Martz, King of the Spice (but they did anticipate Jenny Smith, Queen of the Mild). Anyway, we were shown to the kitchen to choose our meat and veg (because we couldn't read the Chinese menu) and took it back to out hotpot, already bubbling away atop an alight stove set into the table. Predictably, I let my veg soak in the mild broth first, before precariously dipping it in the spicy hotpot and quickly placing it in the 'cooling' peanut, soy and garlic sauce bowl in front of us. However, proud that I could handle this much spice well, I turned cocky and took a veg directly from the spicy side, straight into my mouth...I was fine at first, then of course you always are. The closest thing I can liken it to is a tiny, manageable fire suddenly being doused with gasoline. My throat felt like it was closing, I was motioning for Patrick to do the Heimlich maneuver (which thankfully he didn't; we were already a laughing stock...) My flapping motions even alarmed a poor Chinese man outside. Eventually I calmed down, took a piece of veg from the mild side, dipped it quickly into the spice, and vowed to leave the hardcore stuff to the King of Spice.
   We put ourselves through that ordeal (of the very tasty kind) a further two times, once more in Chengdu and another in Chongquing. The latter was particularly memorable for the intimate, 'local restaurant' feel: the sweet restaurant owner who accidentally took pictures of her face instead of us, the fish's head that kept bobbing ominously in the broth as though conveying a sinister omen, the suspicious meat that may, or may not, have been spiced snail.
   Speaking of suspicious meat, I have to mention out discovery along a diverted path, as we got lost in Chengdu in post-hotpot delirium. We found ourselves walking through a random market when, opposite the pick-n-mix sweet stall, was a stall with pig's faces- and snouts- hanging from the metal beams. A little disquieting, I have to admit- I'm still in the semi-vegetarian camp where I find it difficult to eat a meat when I see its head!

   Unfortunately, we didn't leave with the best impression of Chongquing, but the sweet hostel girls contributed to us having one of the most thrilling rides of our lives! 'Tina's Hostel' was a bit iffy at first: difficult to find, down a back alley, writing on the walls (to which I added various unfunny limericks), but those girls really helped us when we needed it. Needing to get to the train station, we'd tried to hail a taxi from the busy road outside- very difficult when its rush hour and you're non-Chinese, as we quickly discovered when a racist bigot of a driver refused to take us. Getting desperate for time, we ran back to the hostel and asked if they'd help us. Bless them, the girls jumped up, ran outside, and separated down the road to help find us a taxi. But there was just nothing; I couldn't help feeling how hopeless this was. Then, the girl that stood with us suddenly said 'If there's no taxi, it will have to be motorbikes'. 'Ummm...' I stuttered, but before I had a chance to comprehend what she'd said, the other girl came running down the road, with two motorcyclists pulling up beside us. 'Two bikes for you!' she said triumphantly, and before we could question or thank the girls, we were being hurried onto the back of each bike- with our 15kg bags and small bags in tow- and were VROOMING down the highway.
    I've never felt such a whirlwind of fear and excitement as I did on that 10 minute ride to the train station. Fear that Patrick would crash, fear that I would crash, fear that my small bag, swinging from my elbow, would fling onto the highway, fear my heavy backpack would fling ME onto the highway, hope that we were actually going to the train station, and not being kidnapped...but most of all, EXHILARATION, with the wind blowing in my face and the lights of the Chongquing night skyline racing past me. At one point, my motorbike was level with Patrick; I shared a crazed smile with him, one cheek stuck to my driver's helmet, before my driver zoomed off again. He told me later at the station, when we incredulously reflected about how the hell we'd just got there, that the smile I'd given had conveyed all those emotions I'd felt...and more...Taxi service with a difference, eh? Can't see that taking off as a form of public transport in either of our home countries!
     So, from the length of this blog post, you can probably tell that we're on another epic train ride- 25 hours- this time to Kunming in the Yunnan province. Highs and lows of the journey so far: Pat deciding that he will 'never poop again' after a lady guard interrupted him by barging into the toilet- twice- when the train was stopping (maybe TMI?....) Also, meeting a very sweet Chinese guy in the dining cart who was very enthusiastic about learning English; after excitedly looking through my Lonely Planet guide, he asked his English-speaking friend what 'deep-vein-thrombosis' was, and was eying up the very useful phrase 'Can I breastfeed here?'. 

   So, see you in Kunming- hopefully in the WARMTH! Bye bye, coat- see you in Vancouver next March!

Farmers Find an Ancient Terracotta Army...We Find a New Kind of Soup...

We arrived into Xian at the painfully early hour of 5am. And what better place to go at a time when you’re confused and exhausted from the loudest snorer ever? McDonalds, of course. No Bacon and Egg McMuffins here though, to my grouchy disappointment- only noodles and meat plates! Serves me right really for craving greasy Western food in China, but my hot milk was nowhere near as satisfying as a strawberry milkshake would’ve been!

    Anyway, we walked around in a daze for a while until we found our hostel- the first place we’ve been to in a long time that resembles the Australian type of hostel. Free welcome coffee, free beer, English menu, with Chinese dishes in the International section (what country were we in again?). The funny thing is, it was nice that everything was easier than it has been…but where was the challenge? Like the sick individuals we are, we prefer it when everything isn’t in English, and everything isn’t so catered to making us feel at home.

     Sorry about that, that’s my very minor moans out of the way…now onto the main Xian event….the  Army of Terracotta Warriors! A little bit of context about this amazing archeological discovery. In 1974, some local peasants were drilling for a well, when they came across some curious pottery remains. These turned out to be one of the most important finds of modern times: the remnants of terracotta soldiers that Qin Shi Huang, China’s first emperor, ordered to be built to protect his tomb.

    Our transportation there was a LOT more straightforward than it was to the Great Wall- just one public bus. Although we did have a similar situation where a Chinese guy picked us out of the crowd and seemed to know exactly where we wanted to go, and we did react with equal skepticism….

    So, we started with the smallest Pit and the last to be discovered, Pit 3. Due to the large number of high ranking officials, it is thought that here this site was the ‘headquarters’ of the Terracotta Army. Here, you could appreciate for the first time one of the most astounding aspects of these warriors: every single one is unique, from the expression on their face to their uniform’s detail. Pit 2, the next biggest and the ‘protection army’ for the Terracotta cavalry in Pit 1, was interesting for a different reason. Much of it has yet to be excavated, and is still covered over. They’ve x-rayed under the roofs though, and they estimate that around 1,000 cavalrymen and chariots are waiting to be found under there. They have managed to excavate 5 terracotta figures though, and these are available to be examined up close in glass boxes. To see them that closely was really extraordinary; the level of detail was mind-blowing. After over-hearing a tour guide, I learned that you could tell both what part of China, and what rank the soldiers were, just from the shape of their chin and their height. One soldier had a sloping chin and was medium-height, so was a middle-ranking officer from South China. Another was very tall, and had a square chin, so was a high-ranking general from North China. And to think there are 1,000 of these individual figures, horses too, just waiting to be found!

     However, it was Pit 1 that truly blew you away. As you walk in the doors, 2,000 solders stare back at you, almost sinister in their vast numbers. Their faces are so lifelike, it’s like they were real people turned into stone (morbid, supernatural thought:  maybe they were?... ) Behind them lay the remnants of soldiers and chariots newly discovered, yet to be mended. A cavalryman’s head here, a horse’s torso there..it was a war zone out there.... And then, walking a little further, the most fascinating part of all: you got to glimpse archeologists excavating and mending right in front of you! We saw one solider almost completely pieced together as we wandered past- all that was missing was the head. A stark reminder that this is a fairly recent archeological find, and that there’s still a lot of work to be done...also of the intricate and seemingly impossible work they've done in the last 36 years! Well worth the visit, and I even managed to resist the temptation of the obligatory photo opportunity of 'becoming' a Terracotta Warrior with your head poking out above the armour like those sea-side cardboard cut-outs) on the way out. I would have made such a good soldier as well, if Patrick hadn't dragged me past it...It was OK though, the cookies from the nearby Subway made me feel much better...

    Before I conclude and move on to our next destination, Chengdu, I have to mention our visit to Xian's oldest restaurant, where we went especially to try the city's culinary specialty, the 'yangrou paomo'. Our waitress was on the verge of tyrannical, telling us exactly what we were ordering. When she said 'tea?', we said, 'no, beer please...', then she pretty much forced us to order teas anyway! It's quite the process...first, you're given two round bread-cakes that you break into tiny pieces into a bowl (I was told off by the waitress because my broken-off pieces were too big). Then, your hard work is taken away, and a thick beef and mutton noodle broth is added to it, with pickled garlic cloves and coriander (cilantro) on a side plate. The result was delicious...even if there was more bread than broth! We constantly amazed at how quickly Chinese people can eat...we were still struggling half way with ours when the tables that had received their broth at the same time had finished, paid-up and left! 

    Now we're in Chengdu, after another overnight train (only a medium-volume snorer this time, I'm happy to report!). Patrick's excited about the province's specialty, the exceedingly spicy hotpot; poor boy has been suffering from China’s lack of spice. Only here for one night, then on to Chonquing for more hotpot fun!