Charlie and Steve's Excellent Adventure

May 25, 2015

What you’d rather be seeing – China

Our trip to Yunnan province in China was purely for a ten day cycling tour around the Mountains of Xishuangbanna on the border with Manyamar and Laos. This area is renowned for its Pu’er tea in particular but also rubber plantations and the 12 ethnic minority groups.

There were eight of us on the trip including my mother (Jan) with three of her friends plus a good friend of ours Andy Green with his partner Guy. Below are the pictures from the wonderful trip.

For more pictures of our year away see “What you’d rather be seeing“.

People of Xishuangbanna:

Mothers and kids at the head of the villages house whom we met. Yunnan province, China

Ms Li demonstrating how to cook pu’er tea just after picking, Xishuangbanna, Yunnan, China

Grandmother and baby. Xishuangbanna, Yunnan, China

Lady of the homestay who was cooking tea leaves after picking all day. Yunnan province, China

Wheeling and dealing in the Xiding market, Yunnan, China

Boy watching the bark been boiled in preperation for making tye paper pu’er tea is wraped in.

The grannies of the G8: Sue, Philippa, Robbie and Jan

The kids in Xishuangbanna were always happy and smilimg. Yunnan province, China

Jan, Robbie, Sue and Philippa enjoying (or not) the breakfast noodles. Yunnan province, China

Pu’er Tea:

Raw pu’er tea, just before the first steeping. Yunnan province, China

Boiling the mulberry tree bark , the first step in making paper to wrap pu’er tea.

Ms Li demonstrating how to pick tea. Yunnan province, China

Scenery:

May 24, 2015

Top 5 – China

Our venture into the weird world that is China took place over a relatively short period of time and was centred around one major activity: cycling. So this time it’s a top-5 rather than a top-10 as we ventured into not only visiting a new country but having a look into one of recent histories most outrageous stories. Yunnan in the south of China is hot, hilly and with the four grannies and the four gays making up the G8, hilarious. Here’s our top-5 experiences from our pedal pushing fiesta that was China.

5 – Food:

So much of this trip, who am I kidding, our lives centres around food so it’s a bit surprising that much of this trip has thus far taken place in countries not known for culinary expertise. This all changed when we came to Asia. Nepal was surprisingly an early start to the gastronomic affair but in Yunnan we always hoped for good food and we were not disappointed. Oddly enough the food was fairly simple for the most part, not out of reach for us to cook at home yet delicious, healthy and fresh; the reason it’s in the top-5 was the outstanding approach to food and eating. Generous helpings made us feel welcomed, huge arrays of dishes made us feel decadent and sharing it all brought us closer together. From cicadas and worms to whole fish, delicious soups and freshly picked vegetables the Chinese eat everything and so did we. Good food is what’s on the plate but in Yunnan it’s also about what’s not on the plate.

4 – Nannoushan Guest House:

Lets be honest, sometimes a true cultural travelling experience comes at a cost, and that cost on this trip was some pretty ‘gloss free’ home-stays and guest houses; fabulously faulted. On our second last night though we were treated to what a home-stay can be in Nannoushan guest house. With a combination of cultural insights, bare bones rooms and clean spacious layout Nannoushan was a winner walking the fine line between experience and comfort. We walked through old growth tea forests and shared song and dance with the local ethnic minority Aini people, all the boom with none of the bust.

3 – Cycling Yunnan:

Bit of a no brainer here, the trip after all was based on cycling. For eight non-cyclists who all took part in some form of shotgun last minute training to be ready for a trip that should have been a little beyond us all the return leg to Jinghong signalled a range of triumphs none of us could have predicted. Either simply making it, learning to cycle properly or meeting a personal challenge each member of the G8 got more than they bargained for and everything we hoped for. We came to see a new country, have a blast but none of us quite knew how much pushing those pedals would embed itself into our experience beyond a means of transport. I struggle to call us cyclists but gee we loved having a cack at it.

2 – Xiding Market:

Our very own twilight zone moment, Xiding market remains for us one of the best markets we’ve seen on this trip for eye popping experience; and we’ve seen a heap of markets. Capturing all the gritty, dirty, delicious mayhem that any market can shoot for Xiding market represents one of the most true cultural sights of this trip. There was precisely eight non Chinese faces in the market that morning where usually there are none in an immersive experience not so much like seeing a market as being swallowed by the market. Oh, and the noodles were delicious too.

1 – Tea Factory:

Where Xiding market was pure immersion, the tea factory near Menghai was pure privilege. Local Chinese tea buffs would rarely get an insight into what we saw and experienced, to think that we were all granted this look in takes a moment to comprehend the extraordinary magnitude of it. If you’re not a tea drinker this might sound a bit of an odd experience to claim the number one spot, but tea enthusiast or not any traveller can appreciate rare opportunities and this was one of them. Into secret cooking room where no photography was allowed all the way through to packing and pressing and wrapping our own tea biscuits we saw the lot. Not for all the tea in China, the saying goes; this piece of Chinese history remains unchanged and unbroken for centuries through a recent history that has lost so much. For us, tea represents great Chinese cultural heritage, and we got a front row seat.

May 23, 2015

Gluttony Expedition – All You Got, Luang Prabang, Laos

How; how goes the rhetorical cry from the studio audience more a wail of exasperation than a question. This year long reality TV show style procession of food stop to food stop thinly veiled as a travel experience has taken place in much of the worlds more underwhelming food locations. Until now. There has been dashes of good food, even great food along the way but with the exception of Mexico, latin America and Africa has set the bar pretty low. Our measure of a good food culture remains that if a standard unrecommended cheap dish is invariably good you’re onto a winner. Through the mire we waded, past soggy pasta, abundant cheese and an allergy to seasoning we finally come to the oasis like the first beams of light through dense stormy clouds, Asia. Yes there’s the stomach bugs that are par for the course but we get them anywhere, besides, they’re great for the waistline in a very indulgent year. As the great line from ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ goes: I’m one stomach bug away from my goal weight; a silver lining to every stormy cloud.

Having our eyes set on China for the starters gun on this metaphorical eat-a-thon we were pleasantly surprised by the premature ejaculation that was Nepal, the PG rated TV show just got ‘late night’, step aside Nigella Lawson. Throwing into a blender simple but tasty Tibetan food, spicy rich north Indian and the local winners like dal bhat and dumpling momo’s the resultant puree is lickable. Like a great musical mash up from Glee, it’s all the best bits from all the stuff you love but without the cheesy over confident little snots in their Tommy Hilfiger jumpsuits and rehearsed bitchy one liners. What elevates Nepal even further is the simple understanding and connection to food of the local people. No recipe books, no kitchens, no worries; just wander past your guests to your garden that is five days walk from anywhere and in no time dish up food that beats most dishes in nice restaurants in Latin America. Bravo, the audience gasps.

Lunch served during the cycling trip, Xishuangbanna, Yunnan, China

After the awkward excitement that came too soon, pun intended, we touched down in China and a second beginning to the saucy food journey, again pun intended. Actually they’re all intended, lets move on. As we were told many times, in China they eat anything, and we were up to the challenge scoffing down bamboo worms, every part of a chicken we could name and some we couldn’t along with whole cicadas, yes the cute little things we collected as kids; surprisingly delicious. The soups, the fresh vegetables, the minty beef mince, the tea omelettes and all else made up a smorgasbord of deliciousness, and here in lies the China food gem. Like a nymphomaniac who doesn’t know when to stop and took too many lecithin pills (Google it if you dare) the food just kept coming, and coming. And coming. There was nothing individual in the communal tables, an orgy of food was as social and visual as it was tasty we invoked the safe sex mantra that voyeurism is participation in the best possible way. In China the food was good but sharing the love made it all the better and like all good unrestrained group sessions we collected a few bugs along the way and all with Charlie’s mum watching on; ok take the foot off the pun pedal for that bit.

After the mega group session that was China we needed a break, the metaphorical post coital cuddle while we draped ourselves over the chase, ok it wasn’t a chase, more like a bus on the way to Laos but lets not get hung up on details. A good screaming match in the hot Laos night with a tuk-tuk driver over the price signalled our arrival into Laos, nothing like a bit of aggressive sweaty agro to get you in the mood again right? When I think of Asian food I think of south east Asia and Laos immediately quelled any fears that we couldn’t have a quick turnaround repeat performance.

Sticky rice with fresh coconut served in banana leaves – fantastic start to the day, Luang Prabang, Laos

After getting us all sweaty and fired up Laos exploded in our mouths with all its hot, salty, sour goodness. A sour Luang Prabang salad aroused us, the spicy green curry got us hot and the chicken soup sated the beast bringing savoury warmth to our bellies. Spicy larb mince, wickedly hot tom yum soup, curries, fish, salads and of course sausage, can’t forget the pork sausage stuffed us good once again rising to the sexy heights; and we took them all licking our lips and staring into the camera afterwards. Yes this gastronomy journey is positively catholic; such prudish restraint, such abatement ending in an indulgently uninhibited bender that can only be described as sinful. As the director calls a break we retreat to our private rooms quietly wondering how we can keep this up but with the incentives on offer we know we will always rise to the challenge again. Asia, give us all you got, we can take it.

May 22, 2015

While you were working – Xie xie, Jinghong, China

A casual downhill calls the end to the G8 cycling odyssey, like a spotlight fading slowly on a stage the four grannies and the four gays bring their bikes to a halt at the bike shop. Warm hugs of celebration and congratulations spontaneously erupt at the thought of making it back unscathed. Well unscathed if we don’t count Sue’s legs which look a little beaten up but none the less, the most unlikely of cycling groups managed to make it through without a major mishap. It takes a moment to sink in, tomorrow there will be no cycling and with that for most of us there will be no China as the G8 largely vaporises in the absence of the reason to unite, cycling.

A stroll through a night market signals the final farewell, Andy picks up a copy of the famous ‘little red book’, the chronicle of Mao quotes rocketed to cult status akin to Hitlers Mein Kampf. With books banned the little red book was the only book in circulation rocketing it to mythical proportions and making Mao the only millionaire in Mao’s China; communist? I wondered upon arriving if it was still Mao’s China: well he’s dead so technically not of course but his influence is as tangible as many living rulers; in this respect his iron grip persists. Given the limitations on freedom of speech and the great firewall we were stuck behind, China offers a rare quirk to history, many people outside of China have a more comprehensive view of Chinese history than those inside the country. Where Hitler and Stalin met their demise Mao died on top showing once again that history is indeed written by the victors.

Boys showing off their new bikes, Yunnan province, China

So what do we make of Mao’s China? Initially it’s a complex web with the Russians pushing Mao to power, Mao was just one part to this story until his megalomania refused to be overshadowed. Dictators rise from the ashes and Mao was in many ways allowed to claim power and be tolerated due to the disaster that was China before the communists, in this respect Mao unified China up until his death in the 70’s which remains the common apologist line. While this may be true I personally reject the correlative argument, is a violently abusive parent who raises a resilient child a good parent? No is the simple answer and no amount of twisting words backdates clemency to atrocity. The positives of Mao’s rule, and there are positives, remain clearly happenstance not design.

Lingering to this day there are numerous reminders of Maoist times and most notably in the many customs and behaviours that many outside China find quite confronting. China is fast becoming a wealthy country (China is an OECD middle income country even with its huge population) and along with that wealth disappears the easy excuses for environmental destruction and poor human rights. the great Chinese urbanisation sees a class separation of sorts, wealthy Chinese flock to the cities while many of the poorer ethnic minorities retain their simpler farming lives to some degree. The latter is what we saw.

The G8’s best lunch of the trip, Yunnan province, China

Embedded into these cultures is what we as outsiders could easily see as barbaric disgusting behaviours, I for one have never been quite so in touch with spit, faeces, poor hygiene and foul smells as I was in China, a relatively wealthy country compared to many. Culture is one thing but poor hygiene and environmental pollution is simple, it’s unhealthy and this to some degree makes it more of a law of nature rather than a culture. The poorest and most disadvantaged of people around the world understand the need for clean water so why doesn’t so much of China? The answer again may lie in it’s recent history and that man again, Mao. Imagine a world where children are taken out of school to rip up grass by hand because it’s considered bourgeois. Imagine a world where love is considered a grave sin as the only type of appropriate love is for the party and Mao. Imagine a world where anything with heritage was destroyed, books were burned and education shunned so comprehensively that if you were literate you were branded a class enemy. Welcome to Mao’s China where there was no fear of the atomic bomb as China would just make more babies according to Mao, entire generations living in a world designed to strip them of humanity. It’s not ancient history, these people are alive today and they invited us into their homes; can I judge some gross and weird behaviours? The answer is obvious.

In the midst of this emotional and intellectual conflict existed our world for a short time, the G8 and our cycling adventure. Like any debate there are two active sides and still two sides refuse to come to an agreement for me. Universally the people we met were generous, kind and good spirited on top of being a bit gross leaving China as all the things you think yet with no room for judgement when taken in context to recent history. So did we like China? We loved it; not because it was pretty, comfortable or nice but precisely because it wasn’t. We never travel to wrap ourselves in a little Sydney and as true experiences go it was possibly the best we have had on this trip as well as being shared with great friends. So strange it is to love a place that was in many ways so unlovable yet that is what we carry away, a most miraculous and once-in-a-lifetime artwork painted onto the shabbiest of canvases. China you’re a bit gross but we loved visiting, we wouldn’t have it any other way; so thank you, xie xie.

May 21, 2015

While you were working – Snobs, Nannuoshan, China

An alarm so rudely bleats at us in our warm sanctuary of comfortable bedding among the plastic city that offers so little other than this pile of crumpled sheets, there’s quite literally nowhere better to be than in this bed. Possibly the breakfast buffet has a claim to that title and in the tumbling rain of a shower the buffet does indeed take the mantle as the place to be, clothes stuffed into bags we catch the elevator down to repeat the stuffing job on our stomachs for another days ride. There’s two days to go now and where just a few days ago breakfast times were filled with fear jacketed in mirth for the physical challenge ahead gone now are the pensive looks, the uncertainty and the fatigue. The G8 dons a coat of immunity to the kilometres ahead, today is just another sight seeing day in the saddle.

The riding shall begin in a moment or two, Robbie and I both have upset tummies so it’s a short toilet stop before the lazy 30km; never thought I’d say that. Squeezed into two unisex cubicles too close for the cheap chipboard separator to dull any sound we both wait pensively holding onto the door that invariably doesn’t shut properly by itself. It’s a delicate moment with bad tummies in these stalls with the acoustics of a concert hall, the pensive calm before the storm. Like the starters gun at a swimming meet a squirty farting sound ushers the end of restraint as we metaphorically throw all the kids in the pool at once. I knew we’d all bond on this trip but I never thought this would be the fashion; whatever happens in life hereon, Robbie and I will always have Menghai. Rushing from the toilet just in the nick of time the call goes out; ‘ECHO’ screeches Wendy, the human trumpet becoming a now familiar cry, Wendy’s famous heavy rimmed glasses reveal squinted eyes at the effort of the howl.

Ms Li demonstrating how to pick tea, Yunnan province, China

What a piffle 30km seems now, we arrive at Mrs Li’s for more tea education, this time we’re off picking tea. After learning that the bud is bitter, the leaves make the body and the stem gives the sweetness we’re all unleashed on the tea plants to pick a perfect balance of flavour; or just pick whatever we can reach but who’s counting. Back at the vivacious Mrs Li’s we have a go at frying the tea in a huge wok before kneading it to break up the cells and release all the nutritious goodness. By this stage we’ve had an insight into pretty much every part of tea manufacture possible, a window into a great industry, a great history and something so rare to be granted the insight to.

After a short market stop we’re into the van and off to the upper mountain reaches of Nannuoshan, a wealthy small community built on old growth tea. It’s not because there’s money, clearly China does bad taste money with the best of them, but Nannuoshan is by far the most stylish and tasteful place we’ve stayed: rustic but clean, traditional yet sophisticated. As if our tea overload wasn’t enough we take a walk to see an 800 year old tea tree. Through wild forests that are actually the tea fields this place looks very different, massive floral diversity masks the old tea trees that simply make up part of the forest; it’s industry but not China style at all. Or is it? We’ve become good at getting into the middle of nowhere and here we are again; of course there’s a rustic tea shop plonked in the middle of a seemingly inaccessible forest. Taking a huge pot from an open fire a gorgeous young woman finds no excuse in isolation, the tea ceremony is conducted as if it was Wendy in a custom designed setting, gorgeous and divine are the words so aptly thrown around.

Cooking the frehly picked pu’er tea, Yunnan province, China

Just when we thought we were going to be able to rest, our dinner is crashed by some local Aini people in traditional dress, and Ms Li the crazy tea lady is here too. After dinner we, and by we I mean they, get rotten drunk and we are treated to never ending traditional song and dance. Amazingly it all looks very latin american, we could be in the mountains of Ecuador. Interestingly there is a huge amount of genetic connection between indigenous Latin America and Asia, many Latin cultures bare the iconic ‘Mongolian spot’ birthmark tipping off a genetic link from ages past. We’re under massive pressure to return a dance and after drawing blanks I lead the group through the Rocky Horror dance, the time warp. I can’t help coaxing these traditional icons and the four grannies do the very sexual ‘pelvic thrust’ move, this is what memories are made of. Ms Li tries to shy out of it but no chance, I grab her into the circle and she’s off her face pelvic thrusting the air in traditional Aini dress. I manage not to laugh somehow.

Buoyed by my time bossing around the group and the few beers I can’t help myself, I’ve wanted to do this for days. I grab Wendy’s glasses and launch into my own imitation of the famous howl: ‘ECHO…. ECHO… ECHOOOOO!’ I screech as the heavy glasses blur my vision. Tricked into method acting by the concealing wall of myopic shelter I lose myself, I am Wendy. After regaining my vision I’m relieved to see everyone laughing, no offence taken; phew! And finally we head off to bed, today we cut loose undaunted by a small ride tomorrow and again we ticked the tea box. We’ve had an insight into everything pu’er tea imaginable, more than we could ever dream of. we have always been coffee snobs and wine snobs: what’s the chances of the trifecta?

May 20, 2015

While you were working – Little Biscuits, Menghai, China

One could be forgiven for thinking that this part of our trip, the journey into China is about cycling, catching up with friends or even a cultural eye opener into a new country. It’s all these things but don’t look now, there’s an elephant in the room: tea. Yes we’re cycling the mountains of Yunnan with a clutch of old ladies but a little bit of old lady behaviour is never too far away from us when we’re at home, having a good cup of tea in fine china always goes down well. Of course it was no accident that we’re pushing pedals uphill and braving China in Yunann, pu’er tea is from here and one of our favourites so today we add another layer to this old lady tea story. Dare I say it but the 50km of cycling ahead of us acts as somewhat of a distraction, today is tea factory day.

The road flings us down the hill we climbed two days earlier at breakneck speed and across the plains of rice paddies surging ever forward to a greater understanding of tea. Charlie does do his best to streak out on his own sailing past a regroup stop and onward down the road, luckily he is on the right path so a bit of a wait at the end sees no need to return as I did two days ago. All this riding, fun, drama and scenery are however only precursors to the tea factory ahead. Lunch predictably goes down a treat nestled into a restaurant that is more like a converted mechanics garage than an eating establishment. Three uniform roller shutter doors open up our world to a busy road just a few metres away as we nestle into our functional concrete box of a room wondering how long ago the faded pictures of trashy girls were taken down from the walls. Safe to say it’s all about the food here and that’s just fine with us.

Serving up breakfast: Noodles and dumplings. Bada, Yunnan province, China

We’ve joked along the way that we ought to really have a good crack at finishing just one meal that is put in front of us but to this date we have not come close. Today is no exception. Liberated by the burning calories of cycling we gorge unrestrained yet still plate upon plate of food is left to cool on our tables to signal our meek defeat once again. Waddling now we are finally into the tea factory and first stop is the cooking room. This is serious business and we’re told that we cannot take photos before being escorted into a large open warehouse space sweltering with the heat of a sauna. Pu’er comes in two main forms, cooked and uncooked; what makes pu’er quite unique is that it’s cooked form is left in piles of over five tonnes to ferment or compost as we might say in gardening terms. That’s right, it’s composted tea. Unlike garden compost however it’s monitored with the art of ages, checked every day, for moisture content, turned and aerated with the utmost care. Further information remains a close secret, that’s all we’re getting for today. On a bare concrete floor mountains of tea ferment and steam under blankets overseen by the watchful eye of a hallowed technician; this most refined of delicate skills takes place in the most rudimentary of locations, a curious situation for a product of such reverence.

The cooked pu’er lies behind locked doors to us once again now as we continue to amaze ourselves at the basic nature of much of this machinery. There are no LED panels, no smooth moulded forms to speak of as we are surrounded by a range of sorting machines that aesthetically belong in wartime trenches rather than at the crux of one of China’s great industries. Forming no function more sophisticated than shaking a lot and sieving out larger and smaller grades of tea it makes sense that they’re simple machines I guess yet still the simplicity is a surprise. While much of China’s illustrious ancient history is hard to find under the swell of modern capitalism tea remains one of the true bastions of Chinese cultural antiquity, maybe clunky old machines are simply appropriate. Antiquity or not it seems that Chinese industry relies on people in place of technological development, labour is cheap when you’re still pretending to be a communist state.

Feeding the Pu’er tea into the sorting machine, Yunnan province, China

Serious business behind us it’s time to lighten the mood, we’re pressing our own biscuits of tea. Pu’er often comes pressed into a hard brick allowing for the fermentation to continue rather than being exposed to oxygen like loose leaf tea. Exactly 357 grams of tea is placed into a metal canister and steamed to soften it. We fumble around to replicate the expert packing and shaping of the factory workers inevitably having our best efforts undone and redone to big smiles: next stop dancing. After having our tea pressed lightly we load them up under heavy stones and stand on them to further press down the tea into its desired shape attempting to roll the stone around with our feet, I think they just want to laugh at us and we’re happy to laugh at ourselves too. After a final tea tasting lesson we are critiqued as beginners for liking the cooked pu’er; purists like the raw version as it appears we have a lot to learn. Finally like colouring in time at a preschool we design our own hand made paper wrappers and we have our own tea to take home, a piece of true Chinese culture of our own.

With the fun, frivolity and serious demure of the tea factory behind us we ride single file to the city of Menghai for the night at a nice hotel, hot showers and big beds. From our top floor window Menghai, or Lego land, sits before us as row upon row of blocky un-designed buildings extends to the distance like it’s popped up overnight. It probably has. Bright lighting strips adorn otherwise staid buildings in a gaudy attempt at eye catching bling with questionable results while massive wide avenues reveal copy paste style architecture as far as the eye can see. Menghai is big, busy and over-archingly soulless in its appeal or lack thereof, a child’s afternoon with blocks on the lounge room floor. Thankfully for the G8 we take our own biscuits of genuine Chinese culture from this city that has so little while Menghai remains little more than a shower, a toilet and a bed.

May 19, 2015

While you were working – T.I.C. Bada, China

It’s morning time and in Zhanglang and the English translation here is more or less: market time. I’m on the back of the bike with Wendy and everyone else is crammed into the van with China-esque human rights considerations. Xiding township nearby is about ten minutes away and the G8 minus me pour out of the van like clowns in a circus and now embarks on the amble toward breakfast. So far we’ve been treated to sensational food and all of it largely in the form of two meals; massive varied share meals make up lunch and dinner while breakfast time can only be noodles. Food on hold though this is no casual vendor on a rug selling a few goodies, it’s the market version of a rave party: high intensity with an atmosphere that whacks you in the face as you step past the bouncer and through the curtains past the surly alternative cow in bag check. You can even buy glow sticks.

Buying and selling noodles, Bada market, Yunnan province, China

Rows and rows of fruit and vegetables form a colourful gallery either side of the entry as we commit to the market, this cramped informal passage into the throng doesn’t scream of an easy reverse, no going back now. But why would we want to, as Echo says: T.I.C: this is China. To compliment the freshness of the fruit and veg a deeper voyage into the market reveals fresh meat; literally. Huge slabs of all parts of every animal are laid out on large tables with the ever sanitary corrugated cardboard to soak up the juices and hold them at room temperature, delightful. It’s no wonder we’ve all taken turns at getting sick on this trip, safe to say that food hygiene messaging isn’t a big focus in rural China. Past a man using a whopper of a blowtorch on a disarmingly intact pigs head, sans body, and a woman carving huge ribs into sections with a double handed cleaver more like a broadsword it’s enough to turn one vegetarian; almost. Time for noodles, might go the pork this time.

Of course they’re delicious and along with the glutenous rice dumplings with vanilla paste we’re in heaven without the party drugs. Taking a look around between slurps of our noodles we’re enlivened by the buzz of a world set alight. High in the mountains we’re in a small town we’d unlikely ever be able to get to if it weren’t for Echo and Wendy, slurping noodles in a buzzing local market while shy ladies giggle good naturedly at our poor pronunciation in the middle of nowhere. As far as true experiences go it doesn’t get much better than this, this defines the concept in all its privilege. China is absolutely chock full of confirmations to every cliche you could think of from home and good, bad, enlightening or offensive they’re all rolled up in this market and staring at us all from our bowl of noodles. Slurp.

Blowtorching the pigs head, Bada Market, Yunnan province, China

After guiltily packing a few slabs of toffee peanuts and sesame seeds into a bag we can’t overlook the cycling forever, those toffee calories aren’t going to burn themselves. Today though is on cobblestones so it’s safe to say that elegant cycling isn’t on the menu, we all opt to van it up the first mountain climb. Away from the flatlands it’s not agriculture overload anymore yet the beautiful scenery is taken in through small glimpses, focus will be required to bash through this road. After a short wander around a tea plantation it’s time to stop the denial, we’re onto the bikes and uneventfully we’re in Bada, plunging ever further from urban China and deeper into privileged opportunity.

What to say about Bada. Essentially not a lot, it’s the embodiment of functional township which now represents China to me. One main street runs down the centre with a marketplace that looks more like street stalls that haven’t been used for a year or two but no one has the heart to throw them out. Rustic timber houses clamber on top of each other up the slops all bearing the gleaming uniformity of newly installed solar hot water systems on blue corrugated iron roofs. It’s pretty bland but clean in comparison to most places we’ve been so far, I wonder how a place with no doubt less access to services than the lower towns can maintain a higher degree of order and cleanliness. But I guess we always kind of knew it wasn’t about capability, attitude has seemed all along to be the weak link it’s just now we feel comfortable calling it that.

Bulang woman at the Bada market, Yunnan province, China

A small town visit sees us holding court with the local village chief, Echo and Wendy are facilitating a potential donation from a philanthropic Thai couple to provide a buddha statue for a new temple. In a town of 70 families a cost of 1 million yuan is exorbitant to say the least, our visit is wrapped up in a good deed; very buddhist. The grannies also dole out a bunch of gifts to the local kids; pens and pads draw a crowd as we are treated to tea and fruit in the crowd of chickens and pigs. Not a single tourist has been seen from the first pushed pedal and in Bada we are as far away from civilisation as we’re going to get, the extent of our journey off the track, into the bush and then a little further. We signed onto this whole trip to see the world without the filter of a tourist bubble; for better or for worse this is the real deal. After all, T.I.C.

May 19, 2015

While you were working – A Back Seat, Zhanglang, China

Firing on all cylinders goes the saying, that’s the G8 today as we push off from Menghun to Zhanglang in the first of the mountain stages of the Tour de Yunnan. Well all except for Andy who’s still refining his target practice at toilet time; all of the time. With the sprint stages done for now it’s time to separate the men from the boys, the ladies from the girls in the hills, the glamour boys and girls need to step grudgingly from the spotlight as only the prima-donnas can which means it’s bad luck for Guy as he flicks his hair in a huff and sashays to his tent. Morning noodles go down a treat and warm up goes as well as can be expected with the naughty girl of the classroom Janno a bit too full of sugar for the task.

The endless rice paddies we were surrounded by yesterday are our scenery for today as we roll out of town to fat ribbons of cloud highlighting rather than obscuring the mountain peaks that hang clear above. A gentle glow enlightens our shadowless world through a cloudy filter which promises a long needed reprieve to the sapping heat, a good day for mountains. The ribbon of riders slowly stretches as the G8 spreads its wings along this grand open plain of rice paddies and endless space that so aptly reflects this nation of immensity. In no time the string of bikes that is the G8 separates leaving us largely free to the meditation of cycling. Minds draw inward given this time of no interruption, repetitive motion and gentle scenery so full of pacifying green tones that spread around us before the mountain climb 19km away, 19km of meditation.

Tea tree bushes, Yunnan Province, China

The gears slowly ebb up as I greedily hoard every scrap of momentum I can grab searching for a peaceful mind. Shoulders drawn back, arms held rigid and forehead dipped to the world searching for motionless I let go of my rigid pose and finally like a house of cards after the last one is placed it stands on its own no longer needing consideration. Gears continue to gain resistance as the pedalling continues to become easier, effortless on a continuous roll of relaxed legs which replaces the rhythmic pushing of hard working limbs. Like a hypnotist calling myself to sleep there are no higher gears yet I’m on an exercise bike with no tension rocketing through the countryside with a bullet straight line that my forehead follows unerringly.

The kilometres peel away like wax paper off butter on thoughts from home. I name all the plants in our garden, compose words, ponder politics, humanity, myself and think about matters so trivial I forget them even as they pass through my mind like a speeding car through a tiny town unnamed on a map. I solve the worlds problems and think of flitting whims simultaneously as the wheels sing on taken flight. There’s riding a bike and there’s cycling; I have little cycling skill and even still I feel the uplift of moving with fluidity and locking in all momentum I gather like a scrooge gathers coins. In the blink of a wandering mind the road ascends, I’m at the mountain and 19km feels like a dreamy float to the letterbox. The hypnotist clicks fingers as I slow to a crawl looking for a safe place to stop and wait for the team only to hear Echo and Wendy arrive with perfect timing.

‘Finally we caught you’ comes the cry from Echo ‘the others are back that way’. There’s a change, another turnoff was needed that wasn’t on our map clearly which has sent me the wrong way. ‘How far’? I ask: ‘The town’ comes the reply through the noise of traffic I hear now for the first time. The town is 11km back. With fury coursing my legs now in place of the weightless glide of before I blast my way back probably even faster than I made it out here. An extra 22km for nothing takes the high of the best cycling I’ve done and replaces it with angst as I pull up to the team all waiting at the base of the other hill, I take a rest as most of the group pushes off.

Door of a Buhdist temple, Yunnan Province, China

Brought down from my high the mountain begins with leaden feet, a clear mind is beyond me for now as I try to settle into better form to make it up the 9km incline. Alternatively I could just skeet it, I grab hold of a heavily laden truck crawling slowly up the hill and sit in for the ride; my legs could use the break. Not only less taxing this is great fun as I zoom past each one of the team in turn as they amazingly hold back their tirades I’m sure they’d like to throw at me. I borrow about 3km with little effort spent but most importantly my mind is clear and thinking positively, I smash the hill in no time closely followed by each of the G8 victoriously cresting the final rise. We declare a team victory before it’s off to the restaurant for lunch. We find ourselves facing a government notice that this restaurant has the lowest hygiene rating on offer; in China where ‘good’ hygiene absolutely needs the air quotes this is a bit frightening but after what we’ve put in our bodies this trip already it can’t be that much worse, we dig in.

A short skip to our home-stay takes place via a temple, box ticked, let’s relax. In a village without a concrete house we are finally in a more true version of regional China ex the new money style crime; it’s very basic, fairly clean and sits with a commanding view over the mountains and beyond. In a strange twist it has less comfort than other places we’ve stayed but lacks the offensive culture train smash we’ve seen in other places to leave us calm and appreciative. I sit down to some typing with my tea overlooked by a local disabled boy beaming a smile of innocent wonder all the while in this setting that could be everything we hoped to find. I’ll just ignore the big Mao portrait up in the lounge room.

Sunset from our homestay, Yunnan Province, China

Dinner is one of the best we’ve had; still it’s the huge array of dishes that we all fall on like Chinese at a baggage carousel and all of it’s delicious rather than just most of it. The beers are out, Andy is looking a little better, Robbie and Janno still haven’t drawn breath from day-1 like schoolgirls still and all under the eyes of Big Brother, Mao watches on in austerity. It blows me away that all portraits of this monster haven’t been burnt but such is the delusional propaganda machine of this country that many Chinese genuinely have little true idea of the man or this time of their own history.

Landing in China set in motion for me a question on whether it’s still Mao’s China. Sadly on many observations I’d have to say absolutely yes. Our hostess sings to us in Mandarin and we all loudly toast her to great frivolity and celebration for something other than ‘the party’, something that in Mao’s time would be heavily shunned if not nearly unheard of. Tonight we are living proof of his slipping grip: simple jovial fun at the G8’s mountainous victory flourishes as Mao’s China takes a back seat for the remainder of this night.

May 18, 2015

While you were working – No Caveat, Menghun, China

Yesterday my conflicting thoughts craved a jungle, a natural world victorious where leaves of green burst into every available space and a rampant jungle keeps the secrets of a forest floor far from our prying eyes. That was yesterday, today I’m basically ready to declare myself a prophet. For moments then I shut my eyes and conjured visions that now have form beyond what my mind could create, and just in the nick of time I’m back on the bike able to enjoy it in all its splendour. The handlebars rattle over cobblestones sending vibrations to rattle my brain as we fly downhill and deeper into this realm of victory. On steep hillsides we weave through a world bursting with dark green shiny life on a road that bows in supplication to a world of dangling vines reaching from tall trees and raging water we can hear but barely see through the glorious world of jungle.

The grannies of the G8: Sue, Phillipa, Robbie and Janno.

What a spirited ride, we travel 20km in no time and we could do it again immediately such is the thrill that ripples through the G8 minus Guy and Andy who are out with Andy on a phone job-interview with home. The big bad beast of industry circles outside this protected area like a pack of hungry wolves but for now it seems impossibly far away such is the scope of natures victory. All good things come to an end though, but sometimes an end defies a conclusion. We are spat back out to the sunny hot world of endless agriculture but for me the sense of conflict is nowhere to be found. Apart from a stop at a new temple that turns out to be more like someones bedroom with the cutest kids imaginable the ride is easy and smooth, a glorious day in the saddle. Oh and lunch was predictably spectacular, this just goes without saying now.

In Munghun we bunker down in a concrete village that is at least clean, our home-stay abuts the glorious sight of a woman fishing huge clumps of mulberry tree bark from a giant outdoor pot to later become paper. A quick shower done and we’re out getting into paper making ourselves to indulge in a little local experience. The town of Menghun is the only town of this region to still make paper by hand, the long strips of bark we saw before are boiled for a whole day before being cleaned and pulped: this is where we come in. It’s done by machine nowadays but we have a go at old style, a short demo from a local lady sees the G8 reunited and sitting on tiny stools around a timber stump. With a mallet in each hand we rhythmically; we attempt to rhythmically bash a small clump of wet bark to pulp with varying success. Charlie does a great cave-man and some enthusiastic beating results in flabby wet bark flying all over the shop splattering the group. Ok the flying bark bit might have been mainly me. It was traditionally done for about an hour but we manage about half an hour between us, no wonder there’s a machine nowadays.

Unloading the mulberry bark after boiling for paper making.

Over to a big concrete tank we see a huge vat of water being stirred to reveal a fine mist of pulp, proper pulp this time drifting to the surface like miso soup left to settle. Our local teacher does a nifty shimmy with a screen that looks like a fly-screen and expertly scoops up a delicate mist of pulp from the water that is now looking closer to paper than bark. It’s impressive to see but now we all have to have a go; I can’t help myself, I want to try first. With a hand on the screen our teacher graciously allows me to take the credit for all of her guidance and I soak it up shamelessly. Paper made this way is of course expensive and is nowadays only used for monk scriptures and wrapping pu’er tea; ahhhh, the circle becomes complete. We buy a pack mainly to contribute but it’s beautiful paper so I hope I can grab a sheet when we get home.

From one buzzing local experience we couldn’t get anywhere else to another experience to match it we go, it’s cooking school time. True to form it’s pretty simple as the G8 are drawn into three groups to make pineapple rice, sauces and barbecue for our own dinner. We play with food, we laugh, we sink a few beers among an endless ocean of rice patties running up to the gentle clutch of a circling mountain range that promises so much in the manner of a protecting parent. In a seamless flow of joviality we float upstairs to our dining table for the predictably opulent dinner of a zillion dishes, tonight we finally have too many dishes to even fit on the table.

A boy watching the bark boiling process. Yunnan Province, China

Free of emotional conflict from a culture that is so foreign in every way we clock off a day of outstanding immersion and beauty but not without one last weird China’ism, one of our groups two bedroom pulses with disco style lights from the ceiling. We ponder what possible rationale could make this a good idea and all we come up with is T.I.C, this is China; this means that rationale is yet to visit the country that style forgot. Our host is so proud of his lights and we give him the thumbs up barely holding our grins. Again we’re arrayed like kids on school camp, girls and boys separated and nodding off to sleep to clock off a day that is simply a fantastic travel day. So full of conflict, bizarre practices, backward logic and laughably style China has thus far been amazing in a very broad sense, right now though it’s finally amazingly good with no need for a mitigating caveat.

May 18, 2015

While you were working – Bruised Fruit, Bulangshan, China

Charlie is back on the bike and I’m out of the morgue ceremonially taking the front seat of the van that today seems a more comfortable beast than the one I remember. In the first few sweeping ribbons of road that carve their way elegantly around the hillsides my new found conflict raises its spectre for further digestion, the hillsides are pretty but I long for the seemingly lost pieces of the world that have been left alone. Casting my mind back to the long list of countries and their people we know I begin to shuffle the mental deck to find a home for my thoughts; Where in my own spectrum do they belong, why does my vision deliver a tinge of conflict to a beautiful scene? Where Nepal had a similar proliferation of terraced farming it was far more quaint and small scale but the difference here is the relentlessness of it that seems to refuse opposition not content with mere victory. Nepal countryside often showed a slice of land carved out to snuggle within the bounds of a bursting natural world, a sort of harmony filled any field of view.

Following the riders in the morning cool before another blistering day opposite hillsides delivers a monotony that rides into the distance over a horizon without a glance back, entire mountains of one plant in neat rows. In isolation a wonder, in repetition a machine. These hillsides speak of a life lived on the land, ironically close to nature, it’s admirable rather than distasteful but none the less it disconcerts me somewhat. I hunger for a world where the vines grow tall into the trees devoid of order and grand shiny leaves emerge into any nook to catch a drop of sunlight from a ground keeping its secrets tight below a carpet of chaos. China houses a staggering percentage of the worlds flora diversity; in this part of China using the present tense seems a mockery.

The G8 having lunch: Andy, Robbie, Sue, Guy, Jan, Phillipa, Echo, Wendy and Steve

In the China I see, which is only a small part to be fair, it’s a little hard to hold tight to romance, amazement comes still in the guise of disbelief but not in the common ways we chase. Lunchtime is one of those times, a chicken has its neck unceremoniously twisted for our meal in about an hour and some vegetables are thrown in an outdoor wok far grander than any I’ve ever seen. Lunch promises to be, yet again, a bonanza beyond words but for now we’re off for a short hike to see a waterfall, could this be a gift of nature I dare to wonder? Up a hillside recently scarred to a bare road we wind on foot for longer than we were banking on so desperately looking forward to a small swim and to rinse our sweat soaked clothing. The sun punishes us on this road too new to foster any shady trees, the lure of some natural majesty the only shade we need.

A small path off the road delivers salvation, the trees close in and shade comes from outside our imaginations in a world with a floral diversity boldly daring to defy singularity. The heat seems like years ago as we hear the crashing water, the waterfall is close. So is the rubbish tip. Thank god there is no one else around to hear the filth that comes from my mouth, disappointment has a new definition. An open space reveals a campsite that like a forest floor keeps its secret but not from the tangle of life gone rampant, this time it’s a disrespect of nature that is rampant. Choking like the lungs of a lifetime smoker on their deathbed this waterway channels plastic and all other manner of shit, a deathbed is all I see as the days heat comes roaring back from the past. The waterfall itself is a grand one but a glance is all I can bear.

Cicada’s for lunch, actually quite tasty.

I turn immediately to brave the dusty road filled with a sadness I know I shouldn’t have but for a moment I wish not to dispel. Even Peru which sits for us as the filthiest place we’ve been seems to have some tiny idea of appreciating the more beautiful parts of our world. I guiltily wonder at the destruction to the minds of this nation from it’s political torture, surely seeing this place as beautiful must be a natural emotion? So many countries far poorer and with less means defy this ideal that seems to keep repeating itself here, I feel so guilty thinking it but this China I see so far just seems happy with the old saying: don’t shit in your own back yard. They just didn’t get the ‘Don’t’ part. Back at the lunch house and surrounded by more positive amazement, lunch, our guides tell us that it’s just that the government don’t have enough bins. Again I think of the peoples of the world with less means but cleaner lives as I silently reject this statement and turn the conversation to food.

The other side of the amazement coin continues to lay itself upon us, we are presented with chicken congee, our friend from before so freshly converted to food this can only be good, I say a private thanks. Chicken congee, or rice porridge, is a ceremonial dish here only cooked for major celebrations and high dignitaries, it’s delicious and the privilege is not lost on us. Vegetables, crispy pork, soups, omelettes and hundred year eggs make up probably the best feast we’ve had so far but it’s just a backdrop to the cicadas, yes we have whole fried cicadas. They look intimidating but they’re amazingly really nice, even my queasy tummy can’t resist. From one amazement to another I’m on an emotional roller-coaster of polar extremes, China is anything but middle-of-the-road: of any road.

The bark of a tree in virgin rainforest, Yunnan Province, China

The ups and downs continue in Bulangshan, a visit to a temple sees us in audience with a young monk. Filled with all the privilege we can’t fathom from our countries we see an inquisitiveness and boyish comfort that defies the immensity of his position as we see it. We ask questions and all lean in, soaking up every interpreted word. I’ve wondered about the designation of buddhism as a religion or a philosophy, it’s an open debate to me with a good argument either way. Where any religious figure, message or place has often felt like the emotional equivalent to an allergic rash to me I leave feeling warm, appreciative and all together itch free. The monk thinks it’s a philosophy and right now my mind rests without a challenge.

From one extreme to another I love China, I hate China, China upsets me and China amazes me. The people we have met so far have embodied warmth, kindness and displayed interest which to me nearly enough defines interesting. Recent history that runs up to today though has left its scars, less than half a century ago this nations people did their very best to destroy themselves on a personal level for the egos of one man in power. I make guesses here, I can’t see into minds, but the world I see displays the scars of a people thrown into the jaws of practicality devoid of space to breathe outward. But breathe they do, the smiles, the food, the wisdom of a young monk radiates against the absence of a victorious nature as humanity triumphantly claws its way back over a political elite that to this day keep a suppressive hand in place. The scars are there but the fruit of this huge land is still good, it’s maybe just a little bruised.