Day One

I am almost at the end of my first day here in China, and what a day it has been. I could fill ten pages and have much left to tell if I wrote even half of it! This city is incredible – so friendly, so positive and energetic!


When we made our descent through the clouds China was shrouded in thick fog. When I saw the mist chasing over the hills and ridges I think I was happier than I have ever been before.


We touched Chinese tarmac at 6:50am, and were directed through the airport to a gate marked ‘Foreigners.’ After a quick visa check we boarded a shuttle train to baggage reclaim, then headed out of the airport, into the coach, where we met Michael, our Chinese guide.


It is a national holiday this week throughout the country. China celebrates the birth of the People’s Republic at this time every year, since 1949, and because of this Beijing is inundated with native tourists. Most people have been given the whole week off – and to think in England we’re lucky if we get all of Christmas free!


I love this place. Words do not convey how positive my first impression of the city has been. With its twenty-three million inhabitants and high density of traffic it is smog-ridden and a little frayed around the edges, but I have never seen a place so full of life, so lived in.


Two more facts of the day: Beijing translates as ‘North Capital.’ There is also a Nanjing (‘South Capital’), which was the former capital city of the nation until about six hundred years ago. Beijing is currently the size of Belgium, which I admit I find hard to grasp. I have come to a land where cities can engulf nations.


Because of the holiday the hotel is extremely busy, so we were unable to check in early. We left our bags in the corner like a large, dark blot on an otherwise immaculate canvas (the hotel gives off a swanky first impression), and headed out on the coach to the ‘hutongs’ – a world heritage site which is all that remains of Beijing’s original infrastructure. It is a messy, cramped series of alleys, some in much need of repair, but the ground there is work £20,000 per square metre. About 5% of the original city remains, and it is truly quaint.


Michael explained the difficult straits the old city is in whilst we lunched at the house of Mr Wong, who is the grandson of the last emperor’s chef. Determined to modernise the city and do away with the inherited ownership of the Hutongs, the government offers the inhabitants large sums of money and luxury high-rise properties for each family member. In short, selling a hutong to the government can make you an overnight millionaire. A three-person family can live in one flat, rent the other two at £4000 per square metre, and be sorted for life.


I think that the old city’s days are sadly numbered.


On our way to Mr Wong’s, we passed through a district of shops rather like Camden Town, but far more authentic. I saw silky scarves for ¥10 (about £1), and all colours of silk and satin. There were girls’ slippers, and all manner of trinkets galore.


On our way we also went on a bicycle rickshaw ride. I sat with Stephanie, and we saw the community of the hutongs. The houses are in many cases so old that modern plumbing is an impossible intervention, so there are public toilets on every block for the residents.


Mr Wong was a toothy old man with a laughing smile and long nails. He was also a wonderful cook. For lunch we had sticky rice, meatballs, picked celery, peppers, beans and chicken, pancakes, dumplings with pork, and the Wong family signature dish which the emperor once favoured – carrot and onion in batter and honey – all washed down by jasmine tea and Chinese beer. I am no connoisseur, but I regret that the beer tasted to me like all beer: soapy.


Following this veritable feast we bade goodbye to Mr Wong, his talking minor bird, and his really rather too cute grandson, and returned to the hotel.


After a short kafuffle over room-sharing arrangements I have ended up with Caroline, who I met on the training weekend, and after we had freshened up we made the bold decision to hold off from resting until tonight. Instead, with a few of our company, we went out.


At dusk the streets came alive with street vendors, and at the direction of the hotel staff we soon found a sprawling open air market, trading in beads, fake jade, pottery and art. It was one of the best shopping experiences I have ever had, strange though it was to be stared at as foreigners. We seemed to be the only non-Asians there. I bought a ‘jade’ bangle and a miniature tea set, a book for Dekka, a charm for Mum, and a bracelet with fish beads for Nanny.


The size of the place is hard to convey through words. There were easily a thousand stalls, and beads in every colour imaginable. There were calligraphy prints, walnut bracelets, dragon silhouette puppets made of leather, and I cannot tell you how much I loved it (even if I have some way to go before I can call myself a decent barterer).


We drank lemon iced tea in the sunset (rather different from Lipton I found), and wandered back past the fruit sellers and beggars on the street.


I will tell you more about it tomorrow, when we go to Huangyaguan to begin our trek. For now it’s time for dinner, and then some much needed shut-eye.

Departure

Well, this is it! Eighteen months of sporadic training and various fundraising efforts have led to this. I am sitting in Heathrow Airport, air-side, waiting for my departure gate to be revealed. So far my journey has consisted of a very early start (made rather more difficult by my fitful, too-excited-to-sleep night), and a long, dark drive. The roads were far from empty, and every car I passed seemed to be in the grip of the same madness, all going, and quickly, to who knows where. The world never sleeps.


If there was ever a day to start a diary, today is surely it, because today I will travel further from home than I have ever been before. To China! To the other side of the world, a world away from all I have ever known. This morning has been like a strange dream, and now I am awakening to a strange new reality, in which such adventures as this are possible.


I don’t think I have ever been to Heathrow before. Dad and I arrived at about seven, and made quick time to the check-in desk, where I met Stephanie, a widower with smiling eyes who is embarking on this trek in thanks to the hospice which helped her husband. Having seen me into the safety of company, Dad bade his goodbyes. It is only a week until I will be here again, but at the moment Sunday seems several years away.


Having three hours to kill, Stephanie and I meandered around duty-free in a vain search for our companions, who we have since located. As I suspected, I am the youngest, and from the looks of things, not the fittest!

***

We have now boarded. I am fortunate enough to have bagged a window seat for this leg of the journey, but am sitting alone. In not long at all we shall be on our way.


It is too early to say what I make of my company. We are a large group, totalling forty-three, together with two leaders. So far I have spoken to Stephanie, a girl named Laura, and one of the ladies I went on the practise trek with – Caroline, I think.


The plane is moving. We are heading for the runway. Suddenly the nervous tension that has been twisting the pit of my stomach has evaporated. On Thursday, when the family gathered for Grandad’s funeral, I received more than a few compliments on my bravery, but I do not think it is courage which has brought me here. Though the way ahead will be hard, I am not afraid. I have been leading up to this for so long, and thinking about the reasons for going so much that it is unreal. If my heart is beating fast, it is beating with excitement! Finally, it’s here!


As I write this the plane is shuddering its way down the runway. Maybe I am young and in time these things will be dull to me, but in this moment, what sweeter thing is there than to be alive and living?


Goodbye England, goodbye to my home and my family. As the ground fades away into pearl mist, so too vanishes my life as I have known it. To China! To the unknown, and all that lies ahead.

***

We have now made it as far as Helsinki, where we have two hours to wait before our connecting flight to Beijing. I went for coffee with Stephanie, and am now sitting in the departure lounge whilst she has a smoke.


It is blazing sunshine here in Finland, leading me to question the number of fleeces I have packed, but it’s too late now. I won’t see my bag until we reach China, and by then there won’t be anything to do but endure with the provisions at my disposal.

How strange, to think that it is mid-afternoon now, but that in ten hours it will be morning. I think I am going to try sleeping on the next flight. If anything, it will save a little reading for the way back. In a vast underestimation of my own appetite I am only carrying one book! It is, however, quite appropriate. I am reading Empress Orchid by Anchee Min, which is about the last empress, and her rise from concubine to the most powerful woman in China.

***

I am on the plane to Beijing now, just heading towards the runway. During the remainder of my short stay in Finland I have learned a few more names – an Emma and a Sarah, who seem like good candidates for my surrogate mothers of the week. All in all things are going well so far, and now we are in the air. On this leg I am sitting next to Stewart, one of the trek leaders, who I met on the training weekend.


In seven hours’ time it will be a new day! I have just watched us take off through the plane camera, and now I am going to try to get some rest.


It does still feel a little like I am dreaming this, and that at any moment someone will burst in one the scene, laughing at my act, but this is real. I am actually doing it, and though there have been a few horror stories shared in the departure lounge, I am excited, maybe even a little bit proud of myself. Who would have thought I would actually end up going?

***

Long haul flying is, I have decided, a somewhat more romantic and exciting experience in description than in practise. It is God knows what time, and the closest I can give to my exact location is a general impression of mid-southern Russia. Outside the window I can see the Big Dipper, but it is far too dark for a photo, and I shan't wake Stewart by putting the light on. How anyone can sleep like this is beyond me.


It is currently two hours and twenty-three minutes until landing, and I have given up on trying to drift off. Sooner or later I will see the lights of China, maybe even sunrise, and even though I am writing this in the dull gloom of my phone’s light, I can feel the new day coming. Ghosting over the spines and unlit crags of Russia’s landscape, we have chased the moon and caught her. Now we are flying to find the sun.


It feels as though I have been on this plane for longer than five hours. A lesson for my next trip: pack a toothbrush and some deodorant in my hand luggage. I am, I confess, really quite tired, and having watched Terminator: Genisys (to my shame, I loved it) I expected that rest would come to me. It is, however, difficult to sleep sitting upright, and there is little point in continuing the effort now.


Really, I think trying to sleep has only served to exhaust me. I hope that constant stimulation and the strength of youth will keep me going tomorrow. Stewart said that we will probably have the day to do as we please, so I am going to try and do some sightseeing – maybe Stephanie will be happy to tag along, or perhaps I will be ridiculous and go it alone. What, after all, would ever frighten me again if I wandered, mute, in a foreign land? I will try to collect some maps and pamphlets if I can. When I get back it would be no bad thing to start that scrapbook Georgina gave me.


How far away the concept of home and the friends I have there seems, and how many miles behind it is! Part of me wonders what I am doing. Another thinks that this is the best decision I have ever made. It’s mawkish to admit that, perhaps, but there is a certain truth to the sentiment. I have never felt this way before. I wonder if I ever will again.


Two hours and six minutes to go. Roll on breakfast! Having had my fill of Finnair cuisine, I would do many things for a warm stew.


It is an awful thing, to write about food when one is hungry. Stewart criticised the fare offered on the grounds of its carb content (and in truth the meatballs were a suspicious shade of grey), but having woken my appetite, I will take whatever is offered.

The lights just went up. I am taking this a good omen. Less than two hours from China now! I’ll try to write more when I arrive.

Before We Begin

This blog is about my trek to the Great Wall of China. This was my first ever foray into the world without known company, and an incredible experience that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.


I met some wonderful people, and raised over £2000 for my chosen charity, Action Duchenne, which supports boys like my little brother, who has Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. This is a life-limiting, muscle-wasting disease, which at the moment has no cure. I wanted to do something empowering, and useful, and since I had always wanted to go to China I figured a trek along the Great Wall would be something suitably adventurous.


I trained for a year and half before I went (which makes me sound a lot fitter than I was!), and had absolutely no idea what I was letting myself in for, but it was a total blast.

I hope you will enjoy reading about my strange and eye-opening pilgrimage. What follows is an abridged transcript of the illegible, heat-dazed notes I made whilst I was on the trip.