Waking up in Beijing, China

The train journey from Shanghai to Beijing was a gruelling twelve hours, made more so by the fact that not only was I not in the sleeping carriage but there was nowher for me to store my stuff and so paranoi meant that I kept one eye on my luggage and one foot wrapped round a bag strap at all times. I was not the only one who was a bit cautious though, and often I say a suited businessman pick up his briefcase for a short trop to pick up some breakfast or a visit to the rest room.

When I arrived at the station I was glad to see a few people selling maps and comparing them to the one I already had I felt it differed enough in style and content / adverts to be worth picking up a second map, especially as it also had the metro route on it and for 8 CNY it is hardly going to break the bank.

Finding my way to the metro stop outside the station was tricky, as was finding the right route to take but the most unsettling aspect of it was the unnatural shiney and smooth floor tiles that were everywhere, so I was skating around more than walking and at any moment I felt I was liable to fall flat on my face.

The directions to my hostel were pretty accurate so within minutes of exiting the metro stop I found the hostel and apart from them not receiving my booking everything went smoothly. I knew that I was against the clock with regards to submitting my Indian Visa application, so despite bumping into a few fellow brits who were going to do a taxi run to the great wall instead of wading through the full day guided tour of silk factories, etc, I had to miss out let them go without me and instead made a beeline for the Indian Visa Application Centre.

This place was a nightmare and if anyone has read the twelve tasks of asterix, they will know exactly how I felt being sent round getting this and that to come back and then be told I need something else. It is all there, if you know all your entire life history off the top of your head, but failing that anyong wising to enter India is likely to have a minor headache and require a trip to the internet, back to their hotel, phoning their father for their full postal address and having a few passport issue photos taken.

I felt very much annoyed at having to fill in such blatantly irrelevant and personal information and I perversely wish that the UK government recipricate likewise to anyone from India wishing to come here, it would certainly make more sense and level the score so to speak.

After almost three hours I finally escaped with what little sanity and calmness I had left and dashed to grab a McDonalds and then a massage just to bring my yin and yang back into balance.

Finally I got back to my hostel and then started the process of working out what I was going to do for the next few days and when.

Sadly I found out that the famous Terracotta army was nearby the village of Xi'an, around 750 miles away, or another 12 hour bus ride each way as my passport was currently with the Indian Visa Application bureau.

Much like the home for Shaolin Priests being in Hanan, which is even further and yet again a humongeous overnighter or more likely another the next time I visit China.

In the end I did manage to book a tour of the Great Wall, The Summer Palace and genuine KongFu for tomorrow, and I just hope it is the real kong fu and not the diluted artistic adaptation that they the internet booking form is currently flooded with.