Adventures Of

Ni hao,

Again, apologies for my long silence. Lately, I've been travelling and the chinese censors don't seem to like blogs much, so I've been unable to access it...right now I'm in a cafe in Kunming having hit upon the idea of writing it in my email and then pasting it in when I get back to my secure connection in beijing. Hope it works..

So...as I'm not allowed to read my own blog, I can't remember exactly when I left you, but i believe it may have been sometime around the end of November. Then followed a fairly unexciting period of finishing essays and taking exams which is far too dull to write about; finished the acupuncture placement and then had four more weeks in the Xiyuan hospital of gynaecology (lots of interesting things on infertility), dermatology (a bit dull), paediatrics (very cute chinese kids) and surgery (not actually surgery!). And before we knew it, it was all over. However in the meantime there was of course a Chinese Christmas to be had - actually I was surprised by how much Beijing had latched onto the idea (in the commercial sense at least) of the holiday- all the supermarkets had decorations and bad songs - not so different from the uk really! My Christmas was spent in style with lunch at a sumptuous buffet at the Raffles hotel, followed by rather a lot of bad chinese wine for the afternoon, eventually falling asleep during charades..true festive style..All in all it was a surprisingly lovely day.

Then on Dec 30th, nursing a hangover from the 'punk band' night at the local rock club, I found myself sitting in a cafe in Wudaokou waiting for - a wandering sister by the name of Faith Arabella Elliott who had by chance happened to board a plane for beijing and find me there. We had of course about six months of talking to catch up on whilst running around searching for warm clothes in the sub-zero beijing temperatures- I had a narrow escape from one paticular silk market vendor, whose coat I rejected after bargaining her down from 3500 yuan to 200 (I decided I didn't actually like it..) - I managed to get away at last with just a few scratch marks on my wrist and insults ringing in my ears...phew. New years eve was spent playing pictionary in a friend's cosy flat and the next week with me rushing around organising, her exploring the city, a weekend of cycling around the hutong districts and mountain walking with the hiking group, strange evenings involving mongolian throat singing and reggae, several farewell meals...and before we knew it we were on a train headed south.

Well it could have been that simple but, alas, nothing ever is in China...the taxi driver misunderstood that we wanted to go to the west railway station and on realising his mistake promptly dumped us by the side of the road...we shouted abuse at each other for a while as we refused to pay him, until with the help of some friendly chinese bystanders we manged to get another driver to take us down the excruciatingly slow 2nd ring road to the station, making it just in time to buy some unappetising food supplies and jump on the 4.50pm to Kunming (Yunnan province, SW China) This is a journey of around 3000km, 37 hours to be precise, and it passed in the usual manner of such journeys, sleeping, eating, reading, staring out of the window at the mistily indistinguishable scenery and so on. It was much like a russian train except more cramped - I'm not sure whether because the tracks are narrower or people are just smaller..we found a restaurant car where you could stretch out a little but they seemed fairly unwilling to let us stay for long or serve anything at all except sweet milky coffee, and every now and again had a visitor to our carriage in the form of a jolly luggage handler who was very keen to practise his english and tell us many enlightening things such as the current state of relationships in the british royal family and the fact that both beethoven and mozart were from manchester! (we didn't have the heart to disillusion him..)

Stumbled out at kunming at 7am, already too hot from the themals we were still wearing, fought off the barrage of cries of 'dali, dali' (a popular tourist town which everybody will oh so kindly get you a ticket for for just a little wad of cash) to the bus station and got our tickets for the 12 bus to Lijiang. I can't tell you much about Kunming apart from the street food is very spicy and tasty - 8 hours of staring through bus windows at green hills later, and we pretty much fell into the starry night of lijiang and into a hostel where we met a comic korean who mimed his adventures in the snow mountain. Lijiang is a strangely wonderful place- it's so incredibly touristy I didn't see how it could be any more so if it tried...(luckily in winter you can avoid most of the hordes..best time to travel in my opinion!)- but at the same time, extraordinarily picturesque and with a relaxed charm coming not just from the cobbled streets, well kept wooden houses, criss-crossing rivers and canals and compulsory ethnic dress, but also from the waterside cafes where teenagers gathered to play folk songs on the guitar and the old Naxi women chatting in doorways. Lijiang is the centre of the Naxi people, a 'minority group' (there are around 26 of these in Yunnan altogether!) who are descended from ethnically Tibetan Qiang tribes, famous for their matriachal culture and the hieroglyphic language (apparently the only one in the world still in use.) I like the description of how the addition of gender alters nouns- for example, stone + female = boulder, whilst stone + male = pebble! Anyway, the striking black and pink dress is worn by every shopkeeper and waitress, whether they be naxi, han chinese or whatever...very bizarre!

The next day, jan 12th, was faith's birthday which we celebrated with breakfast in the sunshine and then hiring bikes to explore the area a little. En route to the village of baisha, we found ourselves drawn into a weird historical village which had made the transformation from place to theme park so successfully that it was like finding yourself in disneyland in the middle of the Yunnan countryside. I don't think there was one building that didn't sell 'authentic' trinkets. However, chinese tourists appear to love such places, especially with loudspeakers. The more loudpeakers the better. the phenomenen of these in china is still a mystery to me.. it's as if too much peace and quiet would be simply damaging.

Luckily we escaped and found the real village we were looking for, a pretty place in the beautiful green Yunnan countryside, and home to some eccentric characters, including 'Mr. Yang' who served us naxi bread and pickled wild pears, and persuaded us to buy a 'happy birthday' in hieroglyphs he'd painted himself...and Dr. Ho. He was an odd example of soembody who is famous for being famous- he literally leapt out on us in the road and called us inside his clinic - the entire of which was a shrine to himself, it seemed- newspaper clippings, letters of recomendation, even a video documentary and that all-important note from Michael Palin, who had written that 'I will suggest to the other Pythons that they come to you for treatment'! He certainly looked the epitomy of the wise Taoist physician - wispy beard, traditional robes, and he had a room filled with herbs he had collected himself from the mountains - but he seemed reluctant to answer my questions, preferring to talk about his own fane instead. It made an interesting contrast to the generally pretty humble hospital doctors I'd spent time with in beijing - just shows that having a beard isn't everything! If you look up 'the most admired man dr.ho' on google, he told us, you'll find him. It's true...

We rounded off the day with a visit to the traditional Naxi orchestra, during which faith nodded in a scholarly manner over various old chinese instruments, but we eventually had to flee due to the extreme cold (they just don't have heating in the south- I've never sat through a concert in my down jacket, hat. scarf and gloves before!) and the conductor who joked interminably in chinese, into a roadside cafe where we huddled by the fire and made friends with the owner, a regal old naxi woman, and a jolly young han chinese on his holidays, culminating in us all singing each other songs..

The next day we were up in the dark to catch the bus to Qiaotou, the start of Tiger Leaping Gorge. After sitting blearily eating noodles for a while waiting for the bus to leave, we were dropped off a few hours later in a little town where we wandered around a while trying to find the start of the trail. Tiger Leaping Gorge is so called due to a legend with has something to with a, er, leaping tiger, is one of the world's deepest gorges but could disappear if controversial plans to build a series of 8 dams in the upeer reaches of the Yangzi river go ahead. This will force around 100, 00 people to move and wash away much unique local wildlife and history. It will also put huge numbers of people at risk should it burst like the hannan dam in the 80's.

However, for now it's a beautiful, serene area and every bit as dramatic as it's reputation - hiking the high trail takes you right up via the exhausting series of '24 bends' above the foaming water below, and despite the bewildering number of signs directing to the guesthouses that are rapidly springing up along the way to cash in on the popularity of the trek, was in winter peaceful and deserted except a few goat herders and a lone woman sitting at the top selling honey tea, snicker bars and tangerines and ambitiously trying to sell space on the 'lookout rock' (really, they'll try anything in china..). We spent the night at the 'tea horse guest house', drinking beer and looking at the stars with the dutch and english couples also walking, whilst simultaneously trying to hide in a misanthopically british manner from a noisy bunch of americans who arrived later. The next day we carried on walking past more wondrous scenery along with our new friends, reaching 'sean's' guesthouse for lunch before deciding, in the spirit of adventure, to set off with tim and ali (the brits) all the way up, up, up to the icy cold of Shangri-la.

Shangri-la was opportunistically so-named by officials due to being 'proved' to be the location of James Hilton's 'The lost horizon' - originally known as Zhongdian, it was a fairly successful strategy to coax the tourists up to this primarily Tibetan town on the edge of the Himalayas. Most of the time was spent trying to wear as many layers of clothes as possible (especially in the unheated dorm room - although we did get electric blankets!), enjoying the winter light in the pretty old town, watching everybody come out to dance in the squsre at night, and visiting a fine and well kept large monastery - the Ganden Sumtesling Gompa. Interestingly there seems to be more religious freedom here than inside Tibet itself where it is so closely monitored.

We spent just a day in its friendly vicinity before clambering onto another early morning bus back to Lijiang, bidding farewell to tim and ali who were going to take the hard, cold route back to Leshan where they were teaching via local buses and the mountians of western Sichuan. The prospect of another 24hours of bus travel not really striking joy into our hearts, faith and I purchased tickets for that evening's flight to jinghong, 800km to the south, which as the first air travel of my entire trip seemed shamefully easy.

Jinghong is the capital of Xishuangbanna region of yunnan, which borders Vietnam, Laos and Burma and is home to many different peoples- with its 20 degree days and tropical flowers it could hardly have been further removed from the northern winter we'd left behind. A little enquiring in the friendly backpacker cafes soon found us a jungle trek and a guide to take us there, and the next day, feeling slightly the worse for wear after an evening's drinking with our new german friends (Jinghong being the kind of place that it's actually quite difficult not to know everybody within a couple of days), we boarded a bus for a small town whose name i forget, not far from the burmese border for the start of our walk. Over the next four days we walked nearly 90km along little paths through terrain varying from forested mountain ridges, to hot, dry sugar cane plantations, thundering waterfalls and luscious deep old-growth rainforested valleys, passing bulang, dai and akr villages and golden hinayana buddhist temples. We stayed in Bulang villages along the way; idyllically beautiful places, if you don't have to do any work, full of marauding black pigs and muddy children, in wooden, bamboo and sometimes, now, stone houses on stilts, sleeping around the edges of a the large dark central room which revolved around the fireplaces, used for cooking, boiling water for tea and warming yourself and chatting by at night. The people we stayed with were kind and shy and cooked delicious meals of home grown rice and vegetables. They were very neighbourly places with a strong sense of community - people will take it it turns to work on each others land, to help build each others houses. There is no word in the Bulang language for 'hello' - if you meet someone along the way, you ask questions - 'what are you doing? where are you going? how is the way ahead? do you know so and so who's cutting that tree down?' and so on.

We were lucky to have a brilliant guide, Anipa, who had grown up in one of the Bulang villages with ambitions; he spoke pretty good english and took his tour guiding very seriously (seeing himself destined for bigger and better) a veritable mine of information about everything from the plants and wildlife to culture and religion, social tradition and politics, and having been walking these paths since childhood, knew every bend and every tree. As he was the same age as us and had quite a silly sense of humour, the three of us made good walking companions and spent a large chunk of time discussing his relationship dilemmas- he had a chinese girlfriend in Kunming who texted him constantly, to his annoyance, whilst just about everywhere he went there would be some female relative or family friend who would nag him to settle down and marry a nice bulang girl until he looked quite harrassed. It's traditional in Bulang culture for unmarried young men to go out in the evening to visit 'pretty girls' who are supposed to sit at home waiting for them to arrive! So one evening Anipa announced we would all go out visiting to see one such girl- however, much to our surprise, there was another visitor already present- a young monk! Apparently in Bulang, culture, the fact that 'monks can fall in love' (if they decide to leave the monastery) is one of the eighteen Bulang 'strange things' that include 'a bus is faster than a train' and 'a horse is faster than a car' (there are historical reasons behind these..!)

Buddhism is a central part of this world- each village has its one temple, and on the second day we visited Anipa's village, and were lucky enough to see a ceremony of tying white string which had something to do with good fortune..The elders of the village then proceeded to get rather drunk on baijiu, and treated us to some Bulang singing - traditionally this is a competiton in which the men and the women sing against each other - we sang them a song in return and felt a bit like celebrities as Anipa translated one old woman's song, which was something about that she couldn't speak out language in order to welcome us but she hoped we would understand through her singing that she was glad were had come.

At the same time all this was happenin, outside sat a travelling silversmith furnishing bracelets from lumps of solid silver with his blackened anvil, furnace of earth and ashes and old fashioned bellows. We asked him to make one for us and sat there in the dirt watching him wring miracles from metal - looking at the silver bracelet on my wrist now it all seems like something of a dream. Altogether we had a very special experience in that village and it was hard to walk away - luckily we didn't have too far to walk that day as the further away village we'd planned to walk to had had an outbreak of fighting amongst the young men...something about arguments over a girl and a tractor....Anyway apparently it had got quite seriously resulting in several people being hopitalised and the army being called in! Everybody seemed to think this was highly unusual - nobody could remember this ever happening before- but rather amusing at the same time! We met one of those involved that same night around a fire at a different village and he told s that it was all the other group's fault..well...obviously..

On the third day we reached the final chinese checkpoint before Burma, which they reluctantly let us through (and we later surreptiously photographed (- and visted an Akr village where we drank tea with somebody who just so turned out to be Anipa's father's friend and whose son was his schoolmate..who told us stories of serving in the chinese army and showed us his collection of hunting equipment. Akr houses are quite different from the roomy Bulang ones- they are on the ground, not stilts, and are dark and cramped by comparison, with separate rooms for men and women to sleep and live. It's interesting how two neighbouring peoples came to live in such different ways..

On the fourth day we walked a hefty 32km including a long climb up out of a deep jungly valley with giant fig trees and vibrant flowers, to triumphantly arrive at the end of a long hot dusty path in a town just 2km from Burma, caught a bus that bumped and jolted us all the way home in time for tea.

Our final two days were spent mostly wandering around jinghong trying to find bike equipment and information for faith to embark on her Laos adventure (they know her well in the jinghong bikeshop now!) and getting distracted by talking to people in cafes. One particularly surreal moment was trying to perusade a chinese postman to sell her his china post bike panniers, but he wasn't having any of it. We eventually found the only non-postal ones to be had in the town, and seized them with relief. The night before last we went with Anipa, his girlfriend (who had turned up unexpctedly from Kunming, much to our amusement, and turned out to be great and not at all the nagging harpie he'd painted her as..), and their respective cousins, to a nearby hot springs and then for - karaoke! where faith as i suspected embraced her inner mariah carey and we all enjoyed some 'disco'..The final night we sat talking to a born again christian ex yorkshire bus driver about living in jeruselam before being waved goodbye by faith, the girl who worked in the cafe and a small child, to get the night bus to kunming. Where I am now. And she is...I know not...i left her with her brand new bike and a pile of little useful things to be packed into panniers to cycle off to the border. She plans to make it across laos to thailand...the route is changing daily as everybody has a different opinion...but wish her luck!!

And me? i'm reluctantly getting on a plane to beijing in a few hours. Where i will pack up all my enormously heavy books and drag them back all those nearly 7 weeks of travel back, not to mention the nearly 7 months i've been away, in a mere matter of 3 hours, according to relative time differences, on sunday. Have to be in clinic 10am on monday morning for a meeting about my dissertation.

Guess that's that then.

POSTSCRIPT

Back in beijing, horrible plane flight, cramped, delays, fat chinese men taking up all the room...gnnn give me a train any day! Have message from faith: she is halfway to laos border with bike. Go faith!

I feel there should be some philosophical reflection in true 'returned traveller stroking beard style' so perhaps another post will follow.

Hello to you, wherever you may be. It's a cold and windy tuesday evening in Beijing, and I've just had the strangest day ever. Seriously. I'll tell you all about it in a minute.

First, a bit of a 'hospital news' catch up. The last 3 weeks have been spent in the acupuncture department at the Zhongri (China-Japan friendship) hospital, which has been, well, really special actually. We seemed to evolve a really nice relationship with the doctors and the students who were translating for us. Not to brag or anything, but they kept telling us that of all the foreign groups (there were various other nationalities also doing a placement there), they liked us the best. (Bet they told all the groups that!) And when they like you, then they start to tell a few secrets... Here is a typical day:

7.30 - set out on the long cold cycle ride (ok so sometimes there may have been a taxi), arrive all glowy and red faced and numb-toed, get ready for day. 8.30- Dr. Yang - straight into it with the hard questions. 'So what is the difference in the functions of Fengchi, Fengfu, Fengshi, and Fengmen? (These by the way, are the names of acupuncture points - we tend to learn them by name rather than number which in my opinion is sooo much better as the names give you a lot of information - as well as being rather poetic. For example Feng means wind - wind gate, wind pool and so on, so all of these points are used to treat wind-based problems) We all look at our feet, mumble rubbish answers and are told off and enlightened. Next one...different types of facial paralysis? Nope, didn't know that either. Differences and similarities between Zusanli and Shousanli? Phew, between us we managed to cobble together a half-decent answer and managed to save ourselves from total stupidity! In the mean time we are seeing all sorts of different patients, and points used that we've never really thought about before.

11.20- lunchtime, and a whole two hour break, woo-hoo! So we go to the university restaurant with our student translator friends, Wangzhen and Bin (or 'teddy bear' as Thuy likes to call him') and after the usual meat vs. vegetables and tofu ratio debate (guess which side i'm on?) eat a sumptuous meal including mine and Thuy's favourite dish, fried potatoe shreds with a vinegary dressing. It's almost chips! I'm telling you, not having 2 hours lunch breaks is going to be a serious shock....

1.30 - back to hospital. Dr. Zhang is there, and as he does not have many patients, he takes us through needling technique practice. He also demonstrates some cool stuff - why did putting one needle in a patient's neiguan (on her inside forearm) and asking her to move her knee around make the knee pain immediately disappear? Why why why? you have to work it out for yourself, he says. aaarrrghh. I ask him to demonstrate his technique on me and he puts a needle in my waiguan (opposite side of forearm. Then I have to sit quietly for 15 minutes and see where there the sensation ends up. It goes to my opposite foot. Why is that?? I think of an answer. He nods, cryptically. There are probably many. He also talks a little about philosophy. To be an Chinese doctor, he says, you have to stop worrying about the surface things in life, and be content with simplicity (this is quite literal as doctor's wages are very low here). So many people in China now are obsessed with appearance, especially girls, he said. You must go beyond that. More about that in a minute.

On the last day, we saw Dr. Bai in action. She is one scary woman. From Korea, she is a fire needling specialist. This is exactly as it sounds - you get a massive needle, dip it in a flame and then plunge it into wherever your victim is suffering most. In Dr. Bai's case, this was mostly neck and spine problems, and whilst holding the sizzling needle still, she would make vicious adjustments by yanking at the vertebrae. Afterwards these poor people often had Gua Sha (scraping therapy) until not only were they scarred and burnt, but also bleeding and bruised. It looked like a torture chamber in there. But we met an Australian girl,another student, who had suffered from scoliosis (abnormal lateral curvature of the spine) since she was young, causing a lot of muscular pain and her wearing a back brace for several years. After 4 treatments, this 'incurable' problem ahd significantly decreased. Incredible....Dr. Bai also had her own special treatment for stroke and facial paralysis (which, incidentally, she is in the process of patenting!) This basically involves about a hundred needles in the head and neck, according to a complex theory or meridians, nerve pathways and so on. You think I'm exaagerating? I'm not! But again,as she claimed, she could treat people on whom everything else had failed...

Now we're back in the Xiyuan hospital, in the acupuncture department there, which si crazy in a different kind of way. the doctor we were with yesterday treated about 70 patients in a morning. Poor man, he barely had time to speak as he ran between beds! We're allowed to take out the needles at least - sometimes you just want to actually have something to do other than observe!

So today, i skived hospital. This is unusual for me. Usually I am a right keen bean, but this morning i woke up feeling that my feet were itching. i wanted to do something different for a day, to explore the city I'm living in a bit more. So I made the big trip into the centre, and found myself at the poetically entitled 'White Cloud Temple'. This is a large Taoist temple complex, complete with Taoist monks wearing their distinctive black robes with white legwarmers (that's what they look like), and top-knotted hair. It was mercifully tourist free, and I spent a peaceful, contemplative time nosying around the many temples with their golden gods and ornamental roofs, with the familiar smell of incense drifting through the air. Taoism can be described as China's only home grown religion, as Buddhism came from India, and Confucianism is more of a philosophy. It has become divided into two branches, the philosphical and religious, and its ideas of acceptance, non-action, non-resistance and essential formless simplicity have long attracted me, in what sometimes seems to be a confusing and multiplicous mish mash of gods, demons, and religions that are all around. The oft-repeated phrase 'The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao' is certainly applicable to studying here, as Taoist ideas can be said to underpin much of Chinese medical thought...worth bearing in mind when you're going mad trying to figure out what the right answer actually is!!

The interplay between Confucianism, which although originally a radical philosophy, is now seen to be a more systematic, rigid, practical set of ideas, with its emphasis on rules, social order and family ties (and let's not forget the more or less disregard of women) with the spontaneous, flowing, some might say metaphysical ideology of Taoism, do, to my mind at least, help to explain some of the contradictions that are always apparent here.

However, I suspect the practice of these two religions/ philosophies, together with Buddhism are nor so different in practice - religious Taoism evidently still involves plenty of god/ ancestor worship, as shown by the chatting chinese who wandered around absently rubbing bits of statues and lighting things at the appropriate moments. Much as I think it must be lovely to have these comforting and symbolic rituals to turn to - one of my nicest memories ever is waking up in the early morning in small villages in Ladakh to the smell of burning incense being carried through the rooms and the sound of soft chanting - I sometimes wonder if these really mean anything to the participants, or whether they are little more than a habit that doesn't require much thought or reflection, or at worst even prevents it. Call me a cynical existentialist but...

But back to my day. I chatted briefly to a monk who expressed much approval at my studies (that's about as far as my chinese conversation goes..), and gave me a sweet. I think it might be magic...After this I decided to tackle Tiannamen square, but first went to Wangfujing (the Beijing equivalent of Oxford street), to have just a little look at the TCM books in the gigantic bookshop..as I was walking along I was approached by two Chinese girls who told me they were on holiday from the northeast, and invited me for a cup of tea. We went to a posh teahouse and were served in an elaborate ritual, involving much swirling of tea leaves into tiny cups. They spoke perfect english and we chatted for a little while about this and that.

Chinese girls have started to be divided in my head into 'silly' and 'not silly', the silly ones being the irritatingly giggly girly ones who are preoccupied with boyfriends and appearances, whilst the others have something interesting and often very thoughtful to say. Hey, it's not that i have anything against giggling - some might say i'm guilty of it myself (-; , but from what i've seen, thought china might have quite a forward thinking attitude when it comes to professional equality, in personal relationships they're still pretty backwards. If I had a penny for every time I've heard a Chinese girl saying 'my boyfriend tells me not to eat or I'll get fat' or something similar...The emphasis on skinniness here is alarming, to the point where very thin girls will only pick at meals, and their boyfriends have no problem telling them how fat they are whilst wolfing down several bowls of rice. I've seen a lot of patients having acupuncture for weight loss here, it's a very popular therapy. Ok, so it might not be quite foot-binding, but I find the excessive emphasis on a certain kind of girly, delicate femininity pretty irritating. But is it so much different from the west? Maybe just in a different way. It's interesting, that post cultural revolution, with tis demands for homogeneity, masculine clothes and short hair, that this is so obvious. As we say in TCM, an excess of one aspect always turns eventually into the other, yang turns to yin, and so on.

So, back to these girls...they were of the 'silly' type, and sure they were a bit annoying but it's always nice to chat to someone from somewhere else, and they also both had a certain sort of sharp intelligence and ambition- one worked for an international company and the other was a language student. After the tea-drinking had finished, we asked for the bill and prepared to go our separate ways. It's worth mentioning here that when a Chinese person invites you for something it is always expected that they will pay- this can lead lead to some difficult situations, like when eating out with chinese studnets who insist on attempting to pay for their 5 western guests, it takes a lot to persuade them out of it! So, i hadn't looked to hard when they'd ordered a pot of tea and a few snacks, and when they announced that we would split it I was a little surprised, but how bad could it be?

Turns out they'd ordered what must have been the most expensive tea in the place, and the total bill was 1500 yuan. Which meant that my portion was 500Y. Which, in case you're not familiar with yuan, is about £35. Thirty five pounds. Thirty five pounds!! however many times i repeat that it doesn't become any less painful and shocking. That is a lot of money in england. In China, it's a fortune. It's 20 meals out, 100 dinners of street food, 200 breakfast pancakes. And to them it was obviously nothing. It struck me at last who i had encoutered; they were the rich kids, the equivalent of the spoilt LA blond using daddy's credit card. And they blithely assumed that it would be no problem for me either. What could I do? I was so angry I was actually shaking, but also so much in shock I just handed over the money and left. In retrospect I wonder if i should have just made a run for it. But in their defence, i genuinely didn't think it occurred to them that it would be a problem. I'm a westerner, right, and money grows on trees here after all.

You hear all the time in the British press about the growing gap between rich and poor, but I never before had it illustrated so vividly as today. The man who stands in the cold all day looking after the bikes at the hospital charges 2 mao (0.2 yuan) per bike. On a sunny day, there might be 40 bikes. You do the sums...The women outside my flat who search the dustbins all day for recyclable goods must earn a tiny, tiny revenue. And the countryside is a whole other story. even China's own researchers agree with this. I'm going to paste in a couple of articles.

This is from the New Economist

China's growing gap between rich and poor

Writing from Guangzhou, Reuters' John Ruwitch reports that China's wealth gap is reaching critical level:

Fancy imported cars, five star hotels and slick malls dot Guangzhou, the hub of a region that has blossomed into one of China's - and the world's - main economic engines.

...Persistent poverty in China's countryside, against the backdrop of fast growing cities, has sparked social unrest in some spots and elicited sympathy from the wider populace.

The public was outraged in 2003 when a driver in northeastern China ran over and killed a peasant with her BMW, but was given a light sentence.

The leadership in Beijing is deeply concerned there could be a wider backlash, threatening a decade of strong economic growth and the Communist Party's grip on power, says Wenran Jiang, a China expert at the University of Alberta.

"They have come to the conclusion that ... the regime will not survive if they don't address the growing wealth gap, and more importantly, the perception that the government only cares about economic growth and the urban rich," he said.

Deng Xiaoping espoused a trickle-down approach, saying: "Let some people get rich first".

Some have become gloriously rich. Next week, the Hurun Report, which tracks China's wealthy, will issue its 7th annual China Rich List on which the average wealth for the richest top 400 is about $200 million. Seven are billionaires.

To be sure, tens of millions of people have been lifted out of abject poverty since the Party came to power 56 years ago. But the wealthiest 10 percent of China's urban households now own 45 percent of the urban wealth while the poorest 10 percent have less than 1.4 percent, Chinese statistics show.

That has left Deng's successors, President Hu Jintao and Premier Wen Jiabao, grappling with a wealth differential that economists say is wider than when the Communist Party came to power in a 1949 revolution. Average urban incomes last year were 9,400 yuan ($1,164) while rural income was 3,000 yuan ($372).

The Reuters story then cites the recent Central Party School newspaper report, warning that "social contradictions" are on the rise (see my previous post China wants less inequality, more 'social fairness and democracy' for more details). How has Beijing responded?

Beijing has taken steps to try to buoy rural incomes, allowing grain prices to rise and starting direct farm subsidies. It has also scrapped the agriculture tax, a centuries-old Chinese institution, and tried to abolish an array of crippling local fees.

But some of the measures, while lightening the burden on farmers, have bankrupted local governments, which are forced to raise cash elsewhere. The once robust Communist social safety net has vanished, and rural dwellers now pay for things like education and health care.

"In poor areas, there are a lot of conflicts between the government and the farmers," said Li Fan, director of the World and China Institute, a private thinktank in Beijing.

China's "Gini coefficient", a measure of inequality used by economists that runs on a scale from zero to one, is believed to be above 0.45, among the highest in the world. The closer to one, the greater the inequality, and the prospect for unrest. "That means it's already a critical time," said Li.

To escape poverty, country dwellers keep pouring off trains in cities like Guangzhou and the nearby border boomtown of Shenzhen:

...Liu Zhengde begs for change outside a candy store in a lively shopping district. Originally from the Henan province in China's heartland, Liu has drifted for much of his life. He has never married, and his last job was selling fruit in the central city of Wuhan.

That venture failed a few months ago, leaving the equivalent of less than 6 U.S. cents in the pocket of the weathered man with a wiry beard and wide eyes who, asked his age, says: "over 80".

"I couldn't even afford a steamed bun. Those cost five mao. All I had was four," he said. "Everybody said go to Guangdong."

The economic boom has made Guangdong one of the wealthiest places in China. But opportunity has been elusive for Liu who sleeps under bridges. "All I want is enough money to buy a train ticket back home."

And from the Washington Post

China Warns Gap Between Rich, Poor Is Feeding Unrest

By Edward Cody
Washington Post Foreign Service
Thursday, September 22, 2005; Page A16

BEIJING, Sept. 21 -- China's official media warned Wednesday that the gap between rich and poor has become alarmingly wide during two decades of economic liberalization, contributing to spreading unrest in towns and villages across the country.

While the income disparity, particularly between farmers and city dwellers, has been widely discussed and reported, simultaneous and extensive reports by the New China News Agency and the Communist Party's main organ, the People's Daily, suggested that officials wanted to call particular attention to the problem.

iots and other violent protests, which the government acknowledges are increasing dramatically, have become a major issue for President Hu Jintao's government. Hu and Premier Wen Jiabao have made calls for "harmonious society" and "social stability" watchwords of their speeches over the last year.

The reports on income inequality seemed to attribute violence to economic rather than political causes and warned that more unrest could be coming. Following this reasoning, the Standing Committee of the People's Political Consultative Conference, one of China's two legislative bodies, declared in July that the widening income gap "is the root cause of disharmony."

Some senior officials in Hu's government think that the economic reforms begun in the 1980s have gone too fast and that more attention should be paid to the people left behind, according to Chinese academics with ties to the government. Yang Zhaohui, a political specialist at Peking University, said the focus on income disparity shows that the government and Communist Party take the issue seriously.

"I think the purpose of these signals is to give the society a warning," Yang said. "The government might bring out some policies to mitigate the problem."

Since taking over 2 1/2 years ago, Hu and Wen repeatedly have emphasized concern for the poor, but without repudiating the movement toward a market economy. They have, however, sharply curtailed the sale of state-owned enterprises. Shutting down money-losing government factories may make sense economically but often results in large-scale layoffs. Those layoffs frequently generate protests by workers suddenly deprived of the health care, lodging and other benefits they were accustomed to under the socialist system.

The reports on Wednesday gave added weight to the subject by citing the Study Times, official organ of the Communist Party's prestigious Central Party School for training young officials. In an article last week, Study Times suggested that a major reason for the unequal distribution of wealth and opportunity was the alliance between party officials and private businessmen that has grown since the party abandoned doctrinaire socialism and made swift economic growth its main mission.

"There are many people, especially upstarts, who gained wealth through collusion with officials in power-for-money deals," said the writer, Che Haigang.

Chinese often complain about such corruption and about alliances between politicians and private businessmen who have stakes in joint economic development projects. This concern is frequently mentioned by rioters and demonstrators.

The Party School paper based its comments on a Labor and Social Security Ministry study published last month that said China's income gap could cause "destabilizing social phenomena."

According to U.N. statistics, the poorest 20 percent of China's 1.3 billion citizens account for only 4.7 percent of total income, while the richest 20 percent account for more than half. Moreover, that gap has been widening steadily over the last three years. It was cited as China's most serious social problem in a survey conducted by the Central Party School last year.'

So, back to today. It was truly a weird experience. But enlightening. Sometimes you feel like Beijing is one big shiny surface (at least it will be once they wipe all the construction dust off) without the structures underneath to hold it up, one massive advertisment to the world to come and spend. It's like, have you ever seen Beijing opera (don't), or traditional Chinese dance? They wear these fixed smiles, whatever may happen. Mostly the cheeriness is lovely - but - I never thought I's say this - I'm also almost craving some Russian rudeness. At least, if they're nice, you know it's real! Keeping 'face' is very important here.

After my disturbing experience, I made my way to Tiannamen square, and contemplated its bloody history over the last century. From the May 4th movement of 1919, that ended in the birth of the Communist party, to the mass protest after the death of Zho Enlai in 1976, to the infamous student protests of 1989 and the more recent 2001 attempts at self-immolation by 7 people who may of may not have been members of Falun Gong. The 1989 'incident' is the one that immediately springs to mind, I'm sure you know about it but here is what good old 'banned in China' Wikipedia has to say on the subject.

'Since 1978, Deng Xiaoping had led a series of economic and political reforms which had led to the gradual implementation of a market economy and some political liberalization that relaxed the system set up by Mao Zedong. By early 1989, these economic and political reforms had led two groups of people to become dissatisfied with the government.

The first group included students and intellectuals, who believed that the reforms had not gone far enough and that China needed to reform its political systems, since the economic reforms had only affected farmers and factory workers; the incomes of intellectuals lagged far behind those who had benefited from reform policies. They were concerned about the social and political controls that the Communist Party of China still had. In addition, this group saw the political liberalization that had been undertaken in the name of glasnost by Mikhail Gorbachev.

The second group were those, including urban industrial workers,[citation needed] who believed that the social and political reforms had gone too far. The loosening of economic control had begun to cause inflation and unemployment, which threatened their livelihood.

On May 4, approximately 100,000 students and workers marched in Beijing making demands for free media reform and a formal dialogue between the authorities and student-elected representatives. The government rejected the proposed dialogue, only agreeing to talk to members of appointed student organizations. On May 13, two days prior to the highly-publicized state visit by the reform-minded Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev, huge groups of students occupied Tiananmen Square and started a hunger strike, insisting the government withdraw the accusation made in the People's Daily editorial and begin talks with the designated student representatives. Hundreds of students went on hunger strikes and were supported by hundreds of thousands of protesting students and part of the population of Beijing, for one week.

At the beginning of the movement, the Chinese news media had a rare opportunity to broadcast the news freely and truly. Most of the news media were free to write and report however they wanted to due to lack of control from the central and local governments. The news was spread quickly across the land. According to Chinese news media's report, students and workers in over 400 cities, including cities in Inner Mongolia, also organized and started to protest.[6] People also traveled to the capital to join the protest in the Square.

Although the government declared martial law on May 20, the military's entry into Beijing was blocked by throngs of protesters, and the army was eventually ordered to withdraw. Meanwhile, the demonstrations continued. The hunger strike was approaching the end of the third week, and the government resolved to end the matter before deaths occurred. After deliberation among Communist party leaders, the use of military force to resolve the crisis was ordered, and a deep divide in the politburo resulted. General Secretary Zhao Ziyang was ousted from political leadership as a result of his support for the student demonstrators. The military also lacked unity on the issue, and purportedly did not indicate immediate support for a crackdown, leaving the central leadership scrambling to search for individual divisions willing to comply with their orders.[citation needed]Soldiers and tanks from the 27th and 28th Armies of the People's Liberation Army were sent to take control of the city.

Within the Square itself, there was a debate between those who wished to withdraw peacefully, including Han Dongfang, and those who wished to stand within the square, such as Chai Ling. The assault on the square began at 10:30 p.m. on June 3, as armored personnel carriers (APCs) and armed troops with fixed bayonets approached from various positions. These APCs rolled on up the roads, firing ahead and off to the sides, perhaps killing or wounding their own soldiers in the process. BBC reporter Kate Adie spoke of "indiscriminate fire" within the square. Students who sought refuge in buses were pulled out by groups of soldiers and beaten with heavy sticks. Even students attempting to leave the square were beset by soldiers and beaten. Leaders of the protest inside the square, where some had attempted to erect flimsy barricades ahead of the APCs, were said to have "implored" the students not to use weapons (such as Molotov cocktails) against the oncoming soldiers. Meanwhile, many students apparently were shouting, "Why are you killing us?" By 5:40 a.m. the following morning, the Square had been "cleared".'

Of course, this is an abbreviated version, and the whole story is much more complicated. I'm not a historian, nor do I have a good grasp of politics.

'Scholars have pointed out that while many in Europe and America saw the events through their own cultural perspectives, the movement was not alienated from the Chinese culture that it arose from. It was not an expression of bourgeois liberalism promoting western-style democracy.[18] As one historian notes "Students elevated the principle of unity above that of majority rule, while their conception of democracy (minzhu) did not allow for a free competition of divergent ideas and was itself tinged with elitism. In many ways students in 1989, like the traditional Confucian scholar class, continued to assume that the leading role in society would be played by a virtuous and educated elite.'

But sitting in that enormous square with its portrait of Mao looming through the dusk, full of throngs of smiling tourists, and children playing, teenagers hanging and vendors selling, it seemed to me the saddest thing in the world to imagine those students, my age, being gunned down. And for what?

'Unlike the Cultural Revolution which people can still easily find information through government approved books, Internet sites, etc, this topic completely disappeared from any media (including books, magazines, newspapers and internet web sites) inside mainland China. It is a forbidden topic by the Chinese government.

The official media in mainland China views the crackdown as a necessary reaction to ensure stability. It is common for Chinese youth to be entirely unaware of the Tiananmen protests.[20] Every year there is a large rally in Victoria Park, Causeway Bay, Hong Kong, where people remember the victims and demand that the CPC's official view be changed.

Currently, due to the strong Chinese government censorship including the Internet censorship, the news media is forbidden to report anything related to this subject. That part of history disappeared in most of the Chinese media including the Internet. No one is allowed to make any web sites related to this.[citation needed] A search on the Internet in Mainland China largely returns no result, apart from the government-mandated version of the events and the official view, which are mostly found on Websites of People's Daily and other heavily-controlled media.

In January 2006, Google agreed to censor their mainland China site, Google.cn, to remove information about the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre,[23] as well as other topics such as Tibetan independence, the banned spiritual movement Falun Gong and the political status of Taiwan. When people search for those censored topics, it will list the following at the bottom of the page in Chinese, "According to the local laws, regulations and policies, part of the searching result is not shown." The uncensored Wikipedia articles on the 1989 protests, both in English and Chinese Wikipedia, have been attributed as a cause of the blocking of Wikipedia by the government in mainland China.'

How's that for self referencing? (-: Anyway, whilst we're on the cheery subject of the Cultural Revolution, here's another strange experience I had lately! I've told you already about my friendly landlord Jin. Well a couple of weeks ago he invited Lorena and myself for dinner with his family (it was just me in the end), the whole lot as before, this time plus his wife's parents, who were quite elderly. But not just any restaurant. Oh no. This was a theme restaurant..the theme being, you got it, the CR itself! I'm not just talking hundreds of people, waiters dressed as Red Guards, portraits of Mao and newspapers on the ceiling. I'm talking live performance of old communist songs, dances and little skits in the most earsplitting chinese i've ever heard. And everyone singing along heartily, waving their little red flags. Including my landlord. And his wife's parents, who, by the way, were persecuted due to being 'intellectuals'. I asked Jin whether it bothered them, but 'oh no' he said happily, 'it was such a long time ago'. (On the way out there were some old photographs on the wall. One of them showed a man on his knees holding up some kind of placard, obviously as punishment. The old man looked at it and chuckled. 'That happened to him' said Jin, merrily). How could they do this? I don't think there is any way that I could possibly understand. I honestly could not decide whether the whole thing was meant to be really ironic tongue-in-cheek like the Producers 'aren't the Nazis silly'-esque, or really a veiled mass exercise in nostalgia. You tell me.

On a lighter note, I did karaoke! (it is tantamount to a religion here). And it was so much fun I'm ashamed to confess to it, can't remember when I last laughed quite so much you get your own private room and full icence to be as truly awful We took two chinese students along and they sang so beautifully it was embarrassing!

Oh yeah, and finally, do you remember my obsession with the Russian religious orthodox sect, the 'Old Believers'. Well, i just heard that a load of them have locked themselves in a church somewhere in south Russia, awaiting the End of the World (which is apparently sometime soon) and certain demise. That's the spirit! That's dedication for you! There's the Russian soul! (-;

Ok, so farewell for now!!

Ni Hao,

Again, apologies for my long silence. Lots to tell...

I'm sitting at my computer on a friday evening, drinking tea, eating toast from the stall outside, and listening to late junction (I love online radio!). It's getting quite cold now; this morning I left the flat at 7.30 and the world outside was bathed in clean, clear sharp sunlight; the trees are starting to lose their leaves and were covered in a thin layer of frost, and there was something magical about the light reflecting off the hordes of cyclists meandering down Xueyuan Lu. I stopped to buy a pancake for breakfast on the way, and ate it sitting by the canal, watching a group of elderly men and women taking part in a morning fan dance, complete with a portable tape player. Often, in the morning, there are groups practising Tai Chi, dancing, drumming, and singing, which is really lovely to see - old age here is a whole nother kettle of fish. We started at a new hospital this week, the China-Japan Friendship Hospital (Zhong Ri Yiyuan), which is bigger and grander, and a whole 45 minutes cycle ride away- great on a day like today, but when the famous Beijing dusty winds kick in, time to dive for a taxi! Outside the flat right now are lots of little glowing stalls with people huddled round for warmth, serving everything from spicy tofu to grilled aubergine to freshly made popcorn - you can have your food grilled, barbecued or boiled in a big hotpot as you wish, and come home with a meal for 5 quai (35p). Needless to say, I'm becoming addicted to this way of eating - it's also a fun way to interact with the community and the popcorn man never fails to chuckle when he sees us coming! I'm slowly beginning realise that you could quite happily live without ever actually leaving the complex- i keep discovering new things, like hidden enormous vegetable shops. This is what I like best about Beijing - not the largeness but the smallness, the way it is like a set of Russian dolls and everything has something else hidden inside, if you will only have a look.

I guess this way of living stems from the time that everybody lived in the old hutongs, and it was necessary to live very much together. There are, well, really a lot of people in China... I can never get used to the sheer volume of humanity in Beijing, and the way of living is naturally far more collective than the West. One of the doctors, Dr. Zhang, was talking to us about the difference in western and eastern sensibilities the other day. He said, in Europe you each have your own plate of food, whilst in china we all eat from the same one. There are advantages and disadvantages to both. He was using this to explain the method of studying TCM, but it applies to a lot of what we see. The patients, for example, are completely uninhibited about seeing a doctor with students and multiple onlookers present, and appear, on the whole, pretty uncomplaining. I've never seen ill people smile so much! And if you catch their eye, they will always grin back, or crack a joke. People here seem far less wrapped up in their own personal absorptions and problems.

Otherwise, life is going on as usual..I joined the Beijing Hikers club, who go for hikes in the mountains outside Beijing every weekend, which is wonderful to be able to get out of the city for a day. It's difficult to walk on your own here, as detailed maps are banned, reserved for use by military only (yes, they're paranoid..), and most easy-to get to places are filled with throngs of chinese tourists. The group, organised by an energetic Beijing girl named Huijie, takes groups along wild paths they've found themselves. I've been on 3 walks so far, two of which were along pretty hillside paths, valleys, through villages complete with farmers and goats, and stunning views of autumnal coloured trees. Then last Saturday, I, accompanied by Matt who stayed with us for a few days en route to New Zealand overland (oh yes, he so beats me!), decided to tackle the 15km Great Wall walk. Now, this may not sound like much, but when it's 7 hours of walking up steps..and down steps..and up..and really far up...and all the way down, we were completely jelly legged by the end! But it lived up to all expectations- it truly is extraordinary, a long line of grey stoned towers reaching into the morning mist in a distinctly lord of the rings - esque fashion (helped by matt's excellent gandalf impressions..). I just started reading a fascinating book entitled 'The Great Wall: China against the world' which I really ought to stop watching Desperate Housewives (to which Lorena and I are completely addicted..) and get into, so next time maybe I'll be able to tell you lots of fascinating historical snippets..At one point, we had to cut across the mountains with the help of a local farmer due to a heavily armed military post. There certainly appears to be a strong military presence aroung beijing, but I have no idea how this compares to England, for example. It's also noticeable dry - water shortage is a big problem, and the desert is getting closer every day - there's something really sad about seeing villages built around dried-out rivers. Just an hour or two from Beijing, the contrast in lifestyles couldn't be bigger.

We're 8 weeks into the placement now..so far it's been 2 weeks in..the 'foreign' department, 2 weeks in Neurology (I already told you about these), then 1 week in Respiratory (of which, unfortunately, I only experienced 1 day due to catching all the patients' diseases on the first day and then spending the rest of the week in bed!), then 2 weeks in Cardiology and Gerontology (old people), and now, one week in Acupuncture.

Generally, it's all going along very nicely. The patients continue to be varied and interesting - with all sorts of conditions and methods of treatment. Each doctor has their own remedies and methods, and of course each patient is considered individually. I think that it could be easy to look critically at the diagnostic methods and say that they are not in-depth enough, but that would, in my view, be a very foolish assumption that disregards the vast experience of the hospital doctors. Also, the combination with Western medical methods, paticularly imaging (MRI, CT, Xray etc) and the knowledge of conventional drug therapy when necessary, makes the treatment highly effective. I found a quote the other day, from a book on blood stasis, which sums up the philosophy for me, and kind of what I believe myself:

'Integrated medicine (Zhong Xi Yi He Jie) objectively applies methods from both disciplines [conventional Western medicine and traditional Chinese medicine] to find the ideal treatment for the particular type of disease. It is truly a 'holistic' medicine, because it does not reject any therapies, and chooses the most pragmatic way without following any dogma.'

(Gunter R. Neeb)

The doctors have been as kind and patient as ever; as well as the ones I've already mentioned, Dr. Cheng Wei Wei from Gerontology was very lovely, and never failed to make jokes and try hard to explain things to us. She must have been in her late 50's but had an incredible youthfulness and energy- after she'd finished treating patients for the day, she'd go off to Tsinghua university for her English lessons, staying until late in the evening, explaining that what she liked to do best was to study. The doctors work so hard here - and still manage to maintain good humour and patience. If you show you are enthusiastic, they will go out of their way to be helpful. On our last day in Gerontology, we asked Dr. Cheng to show us the pharmacy- she not only did this, complete with giant vats of boiling herbs a la Hogwarts, but whisked us around half thewhospital, introducing us to loads of doctors, nurses, and research students, all of who seemed to be her best friend, and wanted their pictures taken with us..She even took us inside the research labs, where people with wild hair (well, one at least) worked away on giant computers and murmered darkly about genetics...

Some of the acupuncture doctors we have met in the Zhongri this week have been brilliant as well: there was the afternoon session with Dr. Xu Rong-dong who taught us about Chinese needle technique (none of this guide tube nonsense here - it's all about finger strength!) and discussed the concept of Shen in needling and the necessity of cultivating one's own harmonious internal state. There was Dr. Zhang, who explained why it's so hard for us to grasp the Chinese way of learning - first you learn and remember, then understand (oh yes, I've heard that before [sigh]) - also that you cannot expect to get all your questions answered. The best away is to think about it yourself. This can potentially be frustrating. For example, this afternoon when there were hardly any patients, Dr. Zhang treated Marga, a group member, for neck pain. He inserted a needle either side of her knuckle, which immediately relieved it. He had invented this technique himself, which he discovered by chance one day by pressing points on a friend's hand after she had hurt herself. But why it worked? Well that was something we had to figure out for ourselves. Chinese medicine thinking is all about flexibility, about thinking in different ways in different directions, of finding contradictions and not being worried by them, of accepting that there is no set answer and no linear logic. Which basically means that everybody will give you a different answer! Most of the time is leaves you feeling pretty stupid, and feeling that you know nothing but I guess that's all part of the process. Everyone has something to teach you, if you are only willing, at least that's my opinion...

I have so much admiration and respect for the doctors here, they're the kind of people I've wanted to meet for a long time, and their knowledge and gentleness is truly inspiring. The students too- the amount of work they put it puts us to shame, although granted, it's an entirely different lifestyle - you live at the university, eat in the canteen, and spend the rest of the time in class or under supervision - so unlike the often difficult balance of study, work, social life, looking after oneself etc etc that being a student in britain seems to entail. But, when you throw into the balance a whole load of westerners who act in a way which is basically, to my mind, totally disrespectful - not bothering to turn up, not being interested but instead choosing to be critical - it certainly makes you feel embarrassed to be European. Which brings me to the issue which has slightly been dominating life lately. It's an interesting ethical dilemma.

Basically, it goes something like this- members of my group, being generally pretty enthusiastic had, including myself, been growing steadily more annoyed with the tendancy of a certain proportion of the class not turning up regularly (technically, in order to get our degree from BUCM - Beijing University of Chinese Medicine, we have to attend 100% of the placement) and being really negative about it all, not to mention going to all sorts of pathetically sneaky measures to make it appear that they had actually attended. So a decision was reached to contact our head of course in the UK and explain what was going on, as, ethically, this did not seem to be acceptable. Due to all sorts of reasons that i don't want to go into now, i found myself incredibly torn on this issue, which although i totally agreed with in principle, after several days of agonizing, decided I could not be part of p- despite my personal opinion, I could see a lot of different points of view and implications and people more involved than myeself being affected, which is maybe a bit wishy-washy sitting on the fence but there you go. But it went ahead anyway, and now, unsurprisingly, WWIII is now truly underway within the class and i'm counting the days until I'm rid of all their pettiness for ever. Did that sound bitter? It wasn't meant to be, but there's nothing like a small dispute to bring out the worst in people. I'm totally happy with my little group and have a few other good friends, including my lovely flatmate of course, but, as I said, in comparison to the kind of people we're surrounded by, embarassing embarassing embarassing. But then, i really don't want to be self righteous as this is not the right motivation at all, and is every bit as arrogant. However, it's all a big learning experience in itself...

But enough of that, and back to the present. I'm liking beijing better and better as it gets colder - the smog has disappeared mostly to be replaced with lovely clear autumn days, and things become gradually more familiar. China, like Chinese medicine, is to me one big mass of contradictions. People are so friendly and helpful- and yet I have been told that this doesn't last, that is hard to get beneath the surface and nothing comes for free. Whether this is true, i don't know. You can get anything, anywhere- and yet the workmanship is so shoddy that it quickly falls apart. The recycling system is wonderful, but the amount of over-packaging and plastic bags used for absolutely everything is crazy. Food is revered, but is full of chemicals - our teacher even warned us not to eat unpeeled vegetables due to the high pesticide content. There is enormous wisdom, but surprising blinkered-ness the few times I've managed to bring up politics, I'm shocked at how indoctrinated people seem to be - one of the doctors the other day said that government is like cooking a small pancake - you don't want to turn it too often or it will break. A fair enough point- but in defence of a repressive one-party state with an appalling human rights method? We were talking to an expat Chinese man visiting from the US, and I noticed that when he said words like 'democracy' he noticeably hushed his voice. In a hospital room, in English. Says it all really. We have no idea of what's really going on beneath the surface. The government is apparently committed to 'cleaning up' the environment, especially beijing in preparation for the Olympics - and yet pollution is worse than ever. China's speedy development combined with the recent awareness of global environmental issues has created an unprecedented problem, and tehre are no easy answers. A recent NY times article comments thus:

'But just as the speed and scale of China’s rise as an economic power have no clear parallel in history, so its pollution problem has shattered all precedents. Environmental degradation is now so severe, with such stark domestic and international repercussions, that pollution poses not only a major long-term burden on the Chinese public but also an acute political challenge to the ruling Communist Party.

Public health is reeling. Pollution has made cancer China’s leading cause of death, the Ministry of Health says. Ambient air pollution alone is blamed for hundreds of thousands of deaths each year. Nearly 500 million people lack access to safe drinking water.

Chinese cities often seem wrapped in a toxic gray shroud. Only 1 percent of the country’s 560 million city dwellers breathe air considered safe by the European Union.
Environmental woes that might be considered catastrophic in some countries can seem commonplace in China: industrial cities where people rarely see the sun; children killed or sickened by lead poisoning or other types of local pollution; a coastline so swamped by algal red tides that large sections of the ocean no longer sustain marine life.

China is choking on its own success. The economy is on a historic run, posting a succession of double-digit growth rates. But the growth derives, now more than at any time in the recent past, from a staggering expansion of heavy industry and urbanization that requires colossal inputs of energy, almost all from coal, the most readily available, and dirtiest, source.

“It is a very awkward situation for the country because our greatest achievement is also our biggest burden,” says Wang Jinnan, one of China’s leading environmental researchers. “There is pressure for change, but many people refuse to accept that we need a new approach so soon.”

Indeed, Britain, the United States and Japan polluted their way to prosperity and worried about environmental damage only after their economies matured and their urban middle classes demanded blue skies and safe drinking water.

But China is more like a teenage smoker with emphysema. The costs of pollution have mounted well before it is ready to curtail economic development. But the price of business as usual — including the predicted effects of global warming on China itself — strikes many of its own experts and some senior officials as intolerably high.

“Typically, industrial countries deal with green problems when they are rich,” said Ren Yong, a climate expert at the Center for Environment and Economy in Beijing. “We have to deal with them while we are still poor. There is no model for us to follow.”

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/08/26/world/asia/26china.html?_r=2&oref=slogin&oref=slogin

So...I'll leave you there, as my eyes are closing and my bed is calling...oh yeah, you can see I'm living it up over here! After all these confusing conundrums, here is a little Taoism to help us along:

'Let us not be confused
With kaleidoscopic reality
Using wisdom and courage to act
Let us not add to the confusion'

And

'At first, form is needed
Then doubt and inhibition must be dispelled
Eventually, form is celebrated with joy
And expression becomes formless'

Oh yes, it's all about yin and yang, baby...

Back soon, i hope with more meanderings...so..goodnight!

Hello,

Before you go any further, be warnedthat this is entirely about the chinese healthcare system, and I haven't written any of it myself. So, unless you have a specific interest..then..have a quick skim! It's more for my own interest than anything else.

It's a week later, i've not got much to report as I've been spending way too much time in my week off glued to this screen trying to finish off a case study essay (oh yes, no peace for..you know..we have exams too!). But, as is the way of procrastinating essay-writers, I've come across some interesting articles on the health system in China. I wrote a little last time about how what i have observed so far is far more efficient than, well, specifically the NHS..but I'm aware that this is only a small part of the picture - this is a top TCM hospital in an affluent urban area. so, as I have no desire to start writing another essay, and hey, nobody's marking this one, let's use a bit of cut and paste.

The articles I'm using are from the

(1)New England journal of medicine - Privatization and Its Discontents — The Evolving Chinese Health Care System by David Blumenthal, M.D., M.P.P., and William Hsiao, Ph.D. http://content.nejm.org/cgi/content/full/353/11/1165

(2)British Medical Journal - Health in China: Traditional Chinese medicine: one country, two systems - Therese Hesketh, research fellow,a Wei Xing Zhu, programme manager, East Asia b
http://www.bmj.com/cgi/content/full/315/7100/115

(3)Reflections on the Situation of Medicine in the People's Republic of China, 1987
From American Journal of Acupuncture, 1990, 18. 4: 325-343. http://ccat.sas.upenn.edu/~nsivin/medrefl.html

(4) University of Louisville/ centre for Asian democracy - “Intercultural Incommensurability and the Globalization of Chinese Medicine: The Case of Acupuncture,” by Robert St. Clair, Walter E. Rodriguez, Andrew M. Roberts, and Irving G. Joshua http://louisville.edu/asiandemocracy/home_files/papers.htm

Oh, and before I continue, some comments of my own on medical education here - although you see it often written that 'training in TCM is not as extensive and thorough as in western medicine - I can tell you, that of the recent graduates i've met, their knowledge is impressive - 40% of it is in Western medicine, allowing them to practice both systems simulataneously - they are the assigned to a specific department for 2 years after graduation, where they will work alongside and act as assistants to more senior doctors. If only we had a system like this...!

First, let's look at the impact of the Cultural Revolution on healthcare, and try and clear up that old question - so what is TCM (traditional chinese medicine), exactly? And we'll start with good old Wikpedia:

'Classical Chinese Medicine (CCM) is notably different from Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM). The Nationalist government elected to abandon and outlaw the practice of CCM as it did not want China to be left behind by scientific progress. For 30 years, CCM was forbidden in China and several people were prosecuted by the government for engaging in CCM. In the 1960's, Mao Zedong finally decided that the government could not continue to outlaw the use of CCM. He commissioned the top 10 doctors (M.D.'s) to take a survey of CCM and create a standardized format for its application. This standardized form is now known as TCM.

TCM formed part of the barefoot doctor program in the People's Republic of China, which extended public health into rural areas. It is also cheaper to the PRC government, because the cost of training a TCM practitioner and staffing a TCM hospital is considerably less than that of a practitioner of Western medicine; hence TCM has been seen as an integral part of extending health services in China.'

and

(2) 'In the early 1950s it was feared that traditional Chinese medicine would be superseded by the "more modern" Western medicine. To counter this, a systematic assessment of the effectiveness of the traditional treatments was thought necessary. So thousands of experiments and clinical studies were carried out during the 1950s. Most were case series of patients with a specific Western disease who were then treated with traditional techniques—for example, a series of 112 cases treated for angina pectoris and another of 121 cases of bronchial asthma treated with subcutaneous acupuncture. The result of all this research activity was that in 1958 it was declared that traditional Chinese medicine and Western medicine should be given equal respect and place in the healthcare system. 1 Since then there has been a consistent policy of support for the traditional system.'

It does seem, that, despite the horrific genocide, human rights abuses, persecution, mad political decisions, crazy personality cults and cultural destruction of the Cultural Revolution, it did in fact have a positive effect on the preservation of TCM. After an initial crackdown, it was decided to develop a standardised system that underlies modern textbooks today. Some would argue that this has lost the original meaning and is only a modern version. I would admit some truth in this, but argue that everything is referred back to the classical texts, which is more than you can say for some schools today..

So, how is the situation now?

(3)'The institutions that gave the rural majority inexpensive access to medical treatment during the Cultural Revolution have largely disappeared. The system of Barefoot Doctors in the countryside and Red Medical Workers and others in the cities, peasants and workers with a minimum of training who provided low-level medical care part time, has been quickly disappearing. The new emphasis on individual enterprise has made farming lucrative, doing away with the incentives that attracted farmers to doctoring. At the same time former Barefoot Doctors were being encouraged in 1987 to seek further medical education and even to take up private practice in what used to be collectively owned clinics. At the same time, the system of cooperative medical insurance in rural work units that protected the poorest against medical catastrophes has largely ended as official approval has moved from everyone sharing poverty to individuals getting rich. Those who are not getting rich, for instance those farming poor land, are no longer insulated from medical costs that, although very low compared to those in the United States, are high in proportion to their income. A number of experiments to finance rural health care are under way, but in the present climate they disproportionately benefit wealthy parts of the country. Most city-dwellers work in government enterprises and their medical expenses remain covered by the state.'

(1)'After Mao Tse-tung and the Chinese Communist Party took control of China in 1949, they created a health care system that was typical of 20th-century communist societies that are now largely extinct. However, China added some unique features to meet the needs of its huge peasant population and to take advantage of ancient, indigenous medical practices.

The government owned, funded, and ran all hospitals, from large, specialized facilities (often serving communist cadres) in urban areas to small township clinics in the countryside. The private practice of medicine and private ownership of health facilities disappeared. Physicians were employees of the state. In rural areas, the cornerstone of the health care system was the commune, which was the critical institution in rural life. Communes owned the land, organized its cultivation, distributed its harvest, and supplied social services, including health care, which was provided through the Cooperative Medical System. The Cooperative Medical System operated village and township health centers that were staffed mostly by practitioners who had only basic health care training — the so-called barefoot doctors, who received much publicity in the West for their supposed effectiveness in meeting the needs of rural populations.5 Barefoot doctors provided both Western and traditional Chinese medical care and also many public health services.

From 1952 to 1982, the Chinese health care system achieved enormous improvements in health and health care.5 Infant mortality fell from 200 to 34 per 1000 live births, and life expectancy increased from about 35 to 68 years. These improvements also reflected major investments in public health through a highly centralized governmental agency modeled on the Soviet Union's system of the early 1950s.6 This public health apparatus achieved major gains in controlling infectious diseases through immunization and other classic public health measures, such as improved sanitation and the control of disease vectors, including mosquitoes for malaria and snails for schistosomiasis.5,7 By the beginning of the 1980s, China was undergoing the epidemiologic transition seen in Western countries: infectious diseases were giving way to chronic diseases (e.g., heart disease, cancer, and stroke) as leading causes of illness and death.

Then, in the early 1980s, China virtually dismantled its apparently successful health care and public health system overnight, putting nothing in its place. In retrospect, this startling and almost inexplicable event seems to have been collateral damage from a much more carefully planned and successful policy strike: the privatization of China's economy and a general effort to reduce the role of Beijing's central government in China's regional and local affairs. Only recently have Chinese authorities recognized the pain and the massive disruption in health care that they have caused.

Several specific decisions in the early 1980s created China's current health care turmoil. First, China dramatically changed the way it financed health care. It reduced the central government's investment in health care services, as well as in many other public services.
Second, the government imposed a system of price regulation that had dramatic, unintended effects. To ensure access to basic care, the government continued tight controls over the amount that publicly owned hospitals and clinics could charge for routine visits and services such as surgeries, standard diagnostic tests, and routine pharmaceuticals. But it permitted facilities to earn profits from new drugs, new tests, and technology, with profit margins of 15 percent or more. Those revenues depend heavily on sales of profitable new drugs and technologies. The result was an explosion in sales of expensive pharmaceuticals and high-tech services, such as imaging, and rapid overall increases in health care prices and spending.10 While health services became unaffordable for most Chinese citizens, a growing class of newly rich Chinese sought and received Western style, high-tech care.

Third, the government suddenly and completely dismantled communes to privatize the agricultural economy. A side effect was to rip apart the health care safety net for most of rural China. Without the Cooperative Medical System, Chinese peasants had no way to pool risks for health care expenses, and 900 million rural, mostly poor citizens became, in effect, uninsured overnight. In the meantime, the vaunted barefoot doctors became unemployed and were forced to become private health care practitioners. Virtually unregulated, they abandoned their previous emphasis on public health services, which were no longer funded and for which they were no longer compensated, and switched to providing more lucrative technical services for which they were untrained. As a result, their quality as clinicians is highly questionable.12 The former barefoot doctors quickly found that selling drugs was one of the best ways to stay afloat economically, and drug prices and sales exploded in rural areas as well. Fourth, China decentralized its public health system, as it had its health care financing and delivery system, and reduced central governmental funding for local public health efforts.9 Aside from adding to the disparities between rural and urban health care, this move resulted in reduced funding for public health programs in many locales.

In the meantime, the efficiency of the Chinese health care system has declined precipitously. With the growth of the private health care sector, the number of Chinese health care facilities and personnel have increased dramatically since 1980, but because of barriers to access, the use and thus productivity of the health care sector have declined.16 To many in the United States, this portrait of pockets of medical affluence in the midst of declining financial access and exploding costs and inefficiency will sound depressingly familiar.

Aware that their health care is poorer in quality, rural residents with serious illnesses frequently bypass local practitioners and facilities to seek care in the outpatient units of urban hospitals, leading to underuse of the former, overuse of the latter, and increased fiscal burdens on peasants who seek out more expensive, hospital-based services. Health expenses are a leading cause of poverty in rural areas and a major reason that peasants migrate to cities seeking proximity to better health care facilities and higher wages to pay for care.19 Differences in wealth also profoundly affect public health expenditures, which are more than seven times higher in Shanghai than in the poorest rural areas.

To its credit, the Chinese government has recognized and begun to address the huge health care problems that it created. It has done so with remarkable pragmatism, uninhibited by ideology and often importing (after careful examination) solutions pioneered in other countries. China also benefits at this time from a rare financial opportunity. Because of the rapid growth in its economy, national and local governments have sufficient tax revenues to make substantial health care investments without reducing spending for competing social services, such as housing and education, or for defense, which is now a priority for Chinese leaders.20

Since China now seems to consist of two societies, urban and rural, the government has launched different strategies for ameliorating problems in these two locales. It has tried to recreate an urban health care safety net through a system that knits together a variety of devices that will be familiar to U.S. health care policymakers. The first is mandated employer insurance.

The system is far from perfect. Some employers have refused to comply with state mandates, claiming they cannot afford the contributions. Many urban dwellers do not work for organized employers. Companies form and disband rapidly to avoid paying benefits to workers. Dependents of workers may not be covered. An indigenous Chinese private health insurance industry has arisen to sell health insurance to a wealthy minority that can afford it, and China is considering permitting foreign insurance companies to sell health care coverage as well. Whether the Chinese government will be able to cover the 51 percent of urban residents who still lack protection against the cost of illness, and how it would do so, is far from clear at this point.

The central government was slower and more reluctant to address health care problems in rural areas, but it was forced to act because of evidence that health care expenses were undermining other government efforts to alleviate poverty among the peasantry. In 2002, officials launched experiments to create a very rudimentary financial safety net for health care. Under these schemes, the government provides the equivalent of $2.50 a year to help cover a basic insurance plan for peasants, who must match this with an annual $1.25 of their own. Because of their modest funding, these plans cover only inpatient care (with a very high deductible) and leave peasants without adequate primary care services and drugs.

The Chinese example further reveals that government involvement may be essential to ensure an effective health care safety net and that, regardless of their language, history, or culture, providers will confer the services they are rewarded for offering. When Chinese doctors and hospitals were rewarded for providing high-tech services, they did exactly what U.S. doctors and hospitals have been doing for decades, with the same effects on use and costs. In fact, an overriding lesson of the Chinese experience is a warning to the rest of the world: if leaders anywhere care to, they can mimic and even exceed the inequities and inefficiencies that the U.S. health care system has exemplified for so long.

At the same time, optimists can find reason for hope as China struggles with its self-inflicted health care wounds. China's leaders have begun purposefully and soberly to tackle the enormous social engineering challenge of repairing past damage and shaping a new health care system that fits their unique social system and culture. It is hard to say precisely what that system will look like, but it will undoubtedly combine private and public provision of both insurance and services, and it will look very different in rural and urban areas. A major unaddressed challenge for China (and for the United States) is how to reform an inefficient, poorly organized health care delivery system that is bloated in urban areas and threadbare in rural sectors. A further challenge facing China will be instilling in health care professionals, and especially physicians, an ethic of professionalism that is essential to ensure that private health care systems protect the interests of patients and provide care of reasonable quality. For several generations of Chinese physicians, loyalty to the state and communist ideology replaced professionalism as an ethical framework.12 Another challenge will be China's sheer size and diversity.'

Phew..now..let's consider what role TCM has to play in this.

(2) 'China is the only country in the world where Western medicine and the traditional medicine work alongside each other at every level of the healthcare system. Traditional Chinese medicine has its own department at the Ministry of Public Health and at provincial and county Bureaus of Public Health. It has its own medical schools, hospitals, and research institutes.

Overall, it is estimated that 40% of health care in China is based on traditional Chinese medicine, with a higher proportion in rural areas.2 This figure does not include the massive amount of self medication with traditional drugs, which are used not only to treat illness but also as health promoting drugs, ranging from nutritional supplements and tonics to aphrodisiacs.

Every city has a hospital practising traditional Chinese medicine, and there is a plan for every county to have one. In 95% of the hospitals practising Western medicine there are departments of traditional Chinese medicine, most with inpatient beds; when patients arrive at the outpatient department they can opt for Chinese or Western treatment. In Jiangsu province, one of the richer, more sophisticated eastern provinces, one quarter of all outpatients in one year (10 million) had opted for traditional treatment.

The collaboration between the two systems is well illustrated by the fact that in Western medicine hospitals around 40% of the medicines prescribed are traditional. Similarly, in the traditional hospitals 40% of all prescribed drugs are Western medicine. At township and village levels, doctors often prescribe both types of treatment simultaneously, without apparent contradiction. A survey carried out in two village health clinics in Zhejiang province showed that children with upper respiratory tract infections were being prescribed an average of four separate drugs, always a combination of Western and Chinese.

Training in traditional Chinese medicine varies from family apprenticeships to three to five year university training at a college of traditional Chinese medicine, though the educational standard of these undergraduates is generally lower than their counterparts at the Western medical schools. All Western medical schools devote around 10-15% of curriculum time to traditional Chinese medicine, so all doctors have some traditional training. Nurses too are trained in both and many perform acupuncture and acupressure independently.

Central government continues to have a policy for expansion of traditional Chinese medicine. An increase in the number of traditional doctors is one of the priorities for manpower development; their number continues to increase and is now over 300 000. In addition, 20% of the planned increase in hospital beds is to be for traditional Chinese medicine6; since 1985 there has been an annual increase of 8% in inpatient beds.3

But the wisdom of this planned expansion is being questioned, especially with the pressures of the healthcare market. Many traditional hospitals operate at a deficit. The better equipped Western hospitals, with their better qualified staff, attract more patients. In addition, traditional Chinese medicine is largely an outpatient, low technology specialty, so most of the income of traditional hospitals comes from the sale of drugs. Even with the 25% markup allowed, it is hard to cover operational costs. Government subsidies currently ensure survival, but there is no surplus for improving services.

Traditional Chinese medicine has become a source of great interest to the international research community. It is acknowledged that many of the treatments have enormous potential and could be utilised more widely. With this in view, research is essential in a number of areas. Firstly, randomised controlled trials are needed to establish the effectiveness and safety of treatments. There is still a real shortage of controlled trials of the effectiveness of traditional Chinese medicine and there are almost no double blind, placebo controlled trials. In China such trials are considered unethical because it is wrong to withhold potentially beneficial treatment.1 But the need for such trials is being increasingly recognised, and several are underway in China and other countries. The herb trichosanthin is undergoing trials by the Food and Drug Authority for use in treating AIDS.

Secondly, from a Western standpoint, there is a need to identify the biochemical composition of the active agents in many of the herbal preparations. This approach has been successful in research into the antimalarial drug qing hao su. This herb has been used in China for treating fever for over 2000 years. In 1971 it was found to have specific antimalarial activity and the active compound artemesin was isolated. In clinical trials, parasite clearance times were shorter than with chloroquine, symptoms responded more rapidly, and there was no serious toxicity.7 Qing hao su has now become a first line drug for malaria in many parts of Asia.

Thirdly, research is needed to determine which illnesses are best treated through one approach rather than the other. In China, Western medicine is often regarded as more effective in acute situations or where the aetiology is known, while traditional Chinese medicine is more effective for immune conditions, chronic illness, or where the aetiology is unknown.1 But in practice simultaneous use of both types of treatment is so commonplace that the individual contributions are hard to assess. If the two systems are to be truly complementary more research in this area is essential to facilitate a more rational approach.

As China has opened up more to the West there have been concerns that traditional Chinese medicine would be superseded by Western medicine. This has happened for many types of acute illness, but the opposite has also happened: medicine in the West has become greatly influenced by traditional Chinese medicine. As more studies show the clinical effectiveness of traditional Chinese medicine, an integrated approach to disease using a combination of both forms of treatment becomes a possibility. This may transform the practice of medicine in the new millennium.'

And finally...so how can these different schools be effectively integrated? Some interesting thoughts from, er, someone who isn't me... on the theories of Thomas Kuhn. He put forward a theory of scientific revolutions that went something like this:

(4)

The Structure of Scientific Change
1)Normal Science - The golden age Old journals reject papers that do not confirm normal science views
2)Period of Crisis - Loss of belief in the old paradigm. Journals accept a wide range of articles that attempt to repair and revise the normal science model
3)Revolutionary Science - Community of scientists shift to the new emerging paradigm.
New journals reflect the revolutionary changes in science. Eventually older journals are taken over by the leaders of the new paradigm

What is Kuhn’s theory of scientific revolutions and why is it so
important? Kuhn noted that there are cycles of change within the sciences
and that these cycles are structured and they repeat themselves at regular
intervals with the passage of time. In physics, for example, the revolutions
came every three hundred years. Now that more and more scientists are
working on the same ideas, these revolutions are beginning to appear
more frequently. The first period in the history of scientific change is
known as normal science. Kuhn depicts this as the golden age of a science.
It is a time when one takes pride in the great achievements of the past.
Scientists argue that they have just about solved all of the problems in
their research and that they will soon nothing left to discover. Kuhn noted
that there are several characteristics that mark this period. One of them
has to do with publications. It turns out that new ideas are rejected during
such times of intellectual contentment. Grants during such a period of
normality obviously attempt to reiterate common knowledge. Anyone
who proposes anything new or different will have his funding rejected.
The golden age of science, as Kuhn explained, cannot last forever.
With the passage of time, the practitioners in the field will note more and
more anomalies. Definitions will fail to adequately describe events. There
will be inconsistencies within the various parts of a theoretical model.
Experiments will fail from time to time. In such instances, the theories are
never questioned, only the methodology of the laboratory workers. As
these anomalies mount, the scientific community will become more and
more restless and at some point scholars will begin to talk about them
openly at national conferences, in graduate seminars, and in their
publications. When this shift takes place, the next level in the structure of
scientific progress takes place. This new stage is called the period of crisis.
Kuhn referred to “crisis” in the singular, but such is not the case. More
than one crisis occurs. Many different attempts to solve the conflict may
occur during this time. In linguistics, for example, there were nearly a
dozen such conflicting models of neo-structuralism during this period of
crises. There are certain characteristics which define this period or stage
of development in the progress of a discipline. At such a time, new ideas
are openly accepted and entertained. It is a time for exploratory
discussions about what is wrong with the old model and what possible
changes could or should take place. Editors openly look for new ideas and
suggestions for their journals. Granting agencies entertain new models of
research for funding. It is a time when people within the scientific
community have open attitudes towards problem solving. It is important
to note that what makes the natural sciences different from what has been
called the human sciences (i.e., the humanities) is this attitude of problem
solving. Scientists never complain about what is wrong with a theory,
they keep their controversial ideas in abeyance. It is only when they think
that they have a solution that they openly point out the anomalies in the
older model and propose new solutions to old problems. Kuhn argues that
science is all about problem solving. The search for solutions provides the
driving force behind scientific research and theory building.

The next stage in the development of scientific progress comes about
when one of the competing models from the period of crises is hailed for
its success in problem solving. When this event occurs, the scientific
community encounters a period of scientific revolution. Such a model or
theory is accepted by the scientific community because it is successful in
solving the very problems that plagued other scientists.

A mature science, according to Kuhn (1970), experiences alternating
phases of normal science and revolutions. These alternating phases are
paradigms and Kuhn argues that it is the most misunderstood aspect of his
book (Kuhn, 1962). Scientific paradigms have the consensus of a
disciplinary matrix that function as exemplars. Immature sciences lack
this consensus and consequently there is little opportunity for progress. In
mature sciences a great amount of intellectual energy is invested in
arguing over fundamentals. Once these fundamentals are accepted, further
scientific progress is made. This success is due to the fact that energy is
no longer spent arguing with competing models over fundamentals.
Scientific paradigms are about solving problems and this is once of the
characteristics of a mature science. It is also able to envision new
problems, suggest approaches to those problems, and provide a standard
by which such puzzles can be articulated and tested. The scientific method
used within a paradigm encapsulates the rules of scientific rationality.

Anyway..what has this to do with TCM, you may well ask?

Let's see..

(4)Paradigmatic Incommensurability:

How does one reconcile the germ theory of medicine with its causal
complexes with the Five Element Theory of Chinese medicine? From the
perspective of western medicine, the Chinese philosophy of science is
based on a system of homeostasis, a balancing of yin and yang, (passive
and aggressive; inside and outside; dark and light; feminine and
masculine; blood and energy; anatomy and physiology). These terms are
used metaphorically. As the sun moves over a hill, it produces two
simultaneous conditions. The sunny side of the hill is called yang and the
shady side is called yin. Life cannot be sustained by only living in the
light or in darkness; it requires a balance between them.
One of the areas of incommensurability between these two systems
exists in the contrast of scientific reductionism and the holistic approach
in alternative medical practice. Western science functions in a context of
reductionism, linearity, and causality. Individual events are isolated from
their larger and more holistic complex of interactions and subjected to the
scientific method. Hypotheses are posed regarding these isolated events
and experiments are designed to either prove or disprove these hypotheses.
From this practice, laws or principles are established and theories are
formulated that verify and predict those very principles. It is a quantitative
science. Chinese science, on the other hand, is a qualitative science. It is
holistic in that it is derived from a context of inclusion, concurrence, and
induction. Events are seen as initially interconnected; they influence each
other. These events are studied in context with it interrelationships and
counter influences. Upon observing the phenomena, laws are established
based on how these events are experienced. Are these two systems
incommensurate? They both make conclusions about the same
phenomena. However, western medicine the approach to theory building
espoused by traditional Chinese medicine because it is non-technical and
qualitative. They cannot understand why the Chinese felt no compunction
to quantify phenomena. They cannot relate to the qualitative measures
used by the Chinese philosophers (Yin, Yang, wuxing, and baqua). They
are not comfortable with the metaphor of the path or the way and prefer to
seek causal relationships of a different nature.

When Thomas Kuhn (1970) claimed that some scientific paradigms my
be incommensurable with each other, he had in mind the fact that they
may differ in their lexicon as evidenced in the models being discussed. He
noted that these paradigms could also be embedded in different research
traditions as also evidenced in the models being discussed. However, the
most threatening of all forms of incommensurability occurred
ontologically. This occurs when two conflicting paradigms have disparate
beliefs about reality and because they have different beliefs, they also
develop different epistemologies. Is this the case with modern medical
science and classical Chinese medicine? There are many who would argue
that such models are not really incommensurable if they are investigated
from the perspective of electrophysiology.

The most promising bridge between these two paradigms can be
found in the field of bioelectromagnetism (BEM) which is the study of the
subtle electromagnetic fields that underlie life processes. BEM is a viable
research paradigm in Europe and it is not widely investigated within the
United States (Selden and Becker, 1987) where medical treatments are
largely based on drug therapies and surgical interventions. Lakhovsky
(1992) investigated the interrelationships between high-frequency
electromagnetic fields and living things. In this book, he asked the
question: “What is life?” His response is that life is the harmony of
multiple radiations which react upon one another. He then went on to ask:
“What is disease?” His answer was that disease was the oscillatory
disequilibrium of cells and that this disequilibrium originated from
external causes. Lakhovsky explained that living things receive and emit
electromagnetic radiations. It is the exchange of these energies between
life forms constitutes electromagnetic communication. Pressman (1970), a
Russian scientist, argued that it is electromagnetic radiation that enables
living things to sense information about the environment, facilitate and
control within the organism, and communicate between living things.
Popp and Becker (1988) referred to this energy forms as biohotons and
explained how they regulate many physiological functions such as growth,
maturation, cell differentiation, enzymatic activity, and immune system
functions. This electromagnetic fields within the human body is seen as a
model of resonance in which particles move harmoniously through an
electromagnetic field This research is reminiscent of quantum physics
which is based on the principle that all parts of the universe are connected
to each other and are in communication with all of its parts. The ancient
Chinese description of Qi and its pathways and accumulations in the body
closely correlate with research in BEM. The acupuncture system with its
meridians is largely based on such electromagnetic energies.
Scholars working in BEM research have noted that some points on the
body were more conductive than others to a 12-volt current that was applied
to the skin. These low-resistance spots are good electro-permeable points.
These acupoints are 50% more conductive and function as capacitors in that
they hold and store electrical energy within the body. This research notes
that the potential between these points are concomitant with the concept of
meridians in the human body as described by classical Chinese medicine.
Scientists have used the “beaver dam” metaphor to explain how these
electrical currents function in the body by holding energies back and
releasing them to create surges of electrical force. Bjorn Nordenstrom
(1989), a Swedish radiologist, has successfully used the BEM model of
energy medicine to treat cancer. He considers the meridian system to be a
vascular-interstitial closed circum that is powered by imbalances of positive
and negative ionic charges over long distances within the body. Cancer
cells , he noted, are more sensitive to electrical energy than healthy ones
and they are more sensitive to the use of externally applied currents.
Nordenstrom placed the positive pole of the galvanic stimulator on the
tumor and the negative one some distance away. This causes the tumor to
become dehydrated though electro-osmosis
Semi-conduction and Piezo-electricity are two electrical qualities of
crystalline substances that occur in the human body. Both are highly
relevant to the understanding of the electrical qualities that occur within
the meridian system. Szent-Gyorgyi (Selden and Becker, 1987) was the
first to point out that the molecular structures of the human body are
organized to support semi-conduction by passing information along
chains of protein molecules.

Traditional Chinese Medicine and modern medical science are not
incommensurable if one views current germ theory from the perspective
of BEM research. The secret to avoiding incommensurability within the
historiography of medical science is through the adjustment of
epistemological views so that they will be more consistent with
ontological ones.

The globalization of medicine has taken an interesting turn. Classical
Chinese medicine has made its journey outside of the Middle Kingdom
and into the medical practice of the western nations. One of the major
problems with this transition had to do with paradigmatic
incommensurability. Even though the languages involved were different
and even though the medical practices differed substantially, the two
models were found to be commensurable because of scholars who
understood the significance of the Chinese tradition and its implications
for BEM research. One is reminded that when paradigms overlap, they
become partially compatible and their findings can be made more
commensurable with each other. Such commensurability, however, would
not have occurred if such peripheral practices were not tolerated by the
core medical sciences. Tolerance has its virtues.'

If you made it to this point, you get one big giant gold and purple star!

Ni hao!

and a very happy moon festival to you. i have eaten way too many mooncakes as is the custom at this time of year, and am feeling a little sick..

So, I've been in China for..well, over a month now i suppose, it feels like no time at all but also forever, as these things tend to. Apologies for my silence so far..there is indeed a lot to tell but it has taken a while for all of it to begin to settle inside me in any coherent way..

I live in the area of Wudaokou, which is in the NW of Beijing between the 4th and 5th ringroads. Beijing is really very big..and although its not that far out, it's still a very long way to the centre! I haven't strayed much out of this area yet, as I've been more focused on settling in/ being lazy than sightseeing, and of course now the hospital (in which i've just finished week 4), which can wait until it's not so hot and less full of hot and bothered tourists. You england-dwellers may be thinking enviously of sunny days, but until now it's not a been a very nice sort of heat - sticky and muggy, not to mention Beijing's legendary pollution, which got really bad last week, like moving through a grey soup, until a few days of merciful rain culminating in a fantastic thunderstorm cleared the area, and the last two days have been beautifully clear, blue and sunny..a sign of things to come i hope! (Autumn is supposed to be the nicest season here).

This is the student area, a network of picturesque university campuses and a fair number of other laowai - foreigners - so we don't stick out particularly, although i have a suspicion that just about every other one is a language student able to communicate in flawless mandarin, unlike our mumblings and stumblings (haven't got very far on the language front yet, i'm ashamed to say). We (myself and lorena, my flatmate/ co student, an essex-italian with even more enthusiasm for Life than me..needless to say we are having a lot of fun!) live in a nice little flat in...i'm never quite sure how to describe it- complex? compound? community? One thing I can say for sure is that I've never lived anywhere quite like it before - it truly is a 'community: it's a friday night and out of my window i can hear chinese music playing, people chatting and joining in little barbecues along the street, cars beeping, bikes clattering. Just around the corner from our apartment is a little supermarket, a hairdressers, a bakery, several fruit stalls, a mini resturant, a pancake seller, and in the centre of the complex, just around the side of our building is its the focal point 'the playground' as we laowai have christened it, it is a concrete air serving a multitude of purposes: there are little exercise machines, and every night the coloured lights come out, the music is cranked up and it turns into a big social event- middle aged men and women take part in elaborate routines that look like a cross between square dancing, tai chi and aerobics - even sometimes ballroom dancing, and around the the edge people gather to gossip and eat, children play with bubbles, young people sip beer in a decorous manner. It really is a party every night! Sometimes it is turned into an outdoor cinema, with seemingly the whole community gathering to watch a bad kung fu film on a ginat screen. In the morning the old and relax practise tai chi, and the rest of the time it's a general hangout area, and..i haven't even mentioned the best part yet..there are table tennis tables! (you may not know this, but table tennis was a formative part of my childhood experiences, due to many rainy camping holidays..). It's taken me a while to get around to having a go, but when me and my extremely competitive french classmate (there are quite a few of us living in this same bit) wandered down there the other day, we were quickly dragged into a doubles game with an old chinese man and his friend - 'the demon' we've nicknamed him due to his use of spin - which invoked much hilarity in all involved, including onlookers! We've played again with the since and not only is it a lovely way to interact with your neighbours, it's also a brilliant way to wind down after a hard day in the hospital - i love games that encourage ruthless competitiveness in a harmless sort of way! Oh, and did i mention that there is even a massage place? 'Blind massage' is a common phenomena it seems, and any time of the day you can pop round and get a slightly painful but fantastic tuina massage for the princely sum of about £2.30. I can over emphasise how amazing this is. Literally, it can be 9pm, feeling a bit achey after a day of sitting, decide to wander all of 3 minutes walk and go straight in and get the kind of effective massage it's hard to find in england for 20 times the price.

Lorena found the apartment with the help of Emily, a friend of the year above's who has been incredibly kindly running around helping everyone with all their problems, from finding homes to translating for plumbers, so all i had to do was turn up and stumble into my lovely room, all mine, empty the entire contents of my rucksack gleefully onto the floor and enjoy the novelty of being able to control the exact temperature of my environment..i then spent several days enjoying this wonder and reading harry potter (it's brilliant by the way if you're resisting..) before venturing out to discover what my new life was going to be all about! my friend dana (a latvian travelling companion in mongolia) stayed for the first week and we went to explore the hutong district, an fascinating but rapidly disappearing network of alleyways opening onto intriguing courtyards, and to the summer palace, which has, being joyfully only 10 mins by bike from the hospital, become my sanctuary, a place of grass, trees and sky, coloured temples and lily ponds, high arched bridges and willow trees. In the evening it is filled with local people walking, exercising, fishing and singing. People told me before i came that the chinese are remarkably lacking in self consciousness, and from what i've seen, it's true - they don't consider it odd at all to take a nap anywhere anytime, do strange exercises, sing loudly (or of course, spit in the street- yuk) - it's very refreshing!

So, back to the flat - we also have the world's most helpful landlord, Mr. jin, or Jin as we rudely call him, in the first week, did the following things - 1. brought us a microwave as a moving in present 2. took us on a tour of the area in his flash car 3. spent several hours fixing the broadband connection and trying to get skype to work (he is very anxious that we be able to communicate with our families!) 4. took us out for dinner, plus 2 friends, with his wife, 2 sisters and niece to what he says is the best duck restuarant in beijing! Peking duck is of course famous, and we had between us - i'm not exaggerating..at least 20 different dishes, involving every possible part of a duck, including feet, knuckles and even blood (tofu in blood anyone?) followed by an entire roast duck carved in front of us which they showed us how to eat in the proper manner involving pancakes and so on. Actually it was all pretty delicious and a great experience to eat with a chinese family, although i've gone vegetarian since! not too sure about chinese animal treatment standards. Eating here can be great, as food out is so cheap and there is a multitude of dishes to choose from, but it's hard to find some that isn't covered in grease and oil, and of course msg, which makes me feel ill - goodness knows what effect it must have if you eat it at every meal. So i'm getting back into the old brown rice and steamed vegetables which is doing me good..I seem to be hungry all the time, it's all so intensive.

So, nearly four weeks ago, bright eyed and bushy tailed in our spanking new white coats, clutching eagerly purchased new stationary (this of course makes all the difference..) we turned up at Xiyuan Yiyuan, the renowned Chinese medicine hospital situated near the Summer Palace, if you've ever been to beijing, about a half hour's cycle ride from my home. Cycling here is very fun indeed, in fact i'd say it's my favourite thing about china by far. Bicycle riding has of course an old tradition here, and there is a definite difference in attitudes to the uk - you get the feeling that despite the huge rise in the number of car users, bikes still have the upper hand..There are of course whole lanes just for them (these in themselves are kind of chaotic as you can cycle in any direction on any side of the road..and bear in mind that quite a lot of two-wheelers tow trailers with piled-up loads behind them!) but when intermingling with other road users, the one with the strongest resolve wins...'chicken', anyone? There are no actual traffic rules for bikes, so anarchy rules, it reminds me of ones of those quantum models where you see the particles whirling around at random, only in this case, somehow, noone collides. It's fascinating. Alls sorts of people cycle, form students to rubbish collectors to business man, and the bike of choice is the 'sit up and beg' as my friend put it, none of this head down, racing thing, it's all pretty relaxed. Time to chat and so on.

So, back to the hopsital..on first sights it looks a bit run down. Peeling paint, dirty toilets, a general air of shabbiness. However, behind this misleading exterior it is really very efficient. For example: a patient turns up, decided themselves which department they want to go to (no waiting around to be referred to a specialist), waits to see the doctor (no waiting weeks for an appointment). If the doctor then decides they need, say an MRI or a CT scan, they will send themn straight off for one and quite likely get the results that afternoon. Yes, the same day. Not waiting 6 months. In a supposedly more poorly equipped hospital. The doctor will then prescribe both chinese herbs and western medication as necessary, thus cutting out the need for to-ing an fro-ing between different doctors who don't communicate. And a packet of chinese herbs costs about 10 yuan (65p) as opposed to about 10 times that amount in the uk. It makes you wonder what on earth the NHS is doing!!

However, the medical system here is getting more complicated, and Dr. wan (I'll tell you about her in a bit) said that it is not so great now - the cost of treatment had risen so that people in the countryside can no longer afford it, and being a doctor is a hard, badly paid job. Apparently, in the wake of the new capitalist system, they are trying to decide how to shape the medical service, whether to base it on the medical systems of the US, UK or German healthcare systems. Hmm. Guess it'll have to be Germany then. I can't say with any accuracy what effect the revolution had on healthcare. So I'll leave that subject for another time. happily, i've managed to install some security software which means that i can access any website. It seems odd to me that the chinese government should be so adamant about censorship (to the point of demanding that major companies comply with it's demands - such as google- so much for 'do no evil!', and let's not forget the case of Shi Tao. Here is a quote from (normally censored) wikipedia

'On April 20, 2004, the Chinese government released the Number 11 document "A notice concerning the work for maintaining stability" (关于当前稳定工作的通知. In the document, it warned journalists that overseas pro-democracy Chinese dissidents may come back to mainland China during the 15th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square Protests of 1989 on June 4th, which would affect the politico-social order's stability. It asked all news media to not report anything regarding the so-called "June 4th event", Falun Gong or people calling for politico-social change. Shi used his private Yahoo! email account and sent a brief of the document to an overseas web site called Asia Democracy Foundation.

When the Chinese government found out, it demanded the sender's personal information from Yahoo!'s Hong Kong office. Yahoo! turned the information over without asking what it was for. Shortly thereafter, Shi Tao was detained on November 24, 2004. The Chinese authorities confiscated his computer and documents without showing any proper permit or document, and warned his family members not to talk about it with others. He was formally arrested on December 14.

His lawyer, Guo Guo-Ding (郭国汀, famous for taking human rights cases, stated that the search and seizure and subsequent arrest were illegal. As a result, his license to practice law was suspended for one year by Shanghai's Department of Law. He was later put under house arrest, and one of his co-workers had to take over the case.

On March 11, 2005, Hunan Changsha People's Middle Court held its first hearing secretly. It lasted for two hours. Shi Tao's mother and brothers came all the way from Ningxia to Changsha, but they were not permitted to go inside and observe. After the hearing was over, Shi was permitted ten minutes of private time with his family members. Fifteen days later, he was sentenced to prison for ten years, and will lose his political rights for two years on the charge of leaking state secrets.'

(It's important to remember this sort of thing shouold one be tempted to be sucked into a 'china's so wonderful' sort of bubble).

And yet it is relatively easy to evade....strange. The Olympics is everywhere at the moment. Quite literally. In our 'playground' is a big screen counting down to it, minute by minute. Even in the Botanical Gardens, a peaceful retreat from the rampant develpment happening evrywhere (in which buildings appear, quite literally, overnight, is full of banners with the cartoon 'Olympic antelope'- which, incidentally, they stole from Tibet). Everywhere you look are banners, flags, slogans proclaiming 'One World, One Dream' message...a thinly veiled version of the 'One China' message methinks? Recently, some friends of mine were arrested for abseiling off the Great Wall with a banner proclaiming: 'One World, One Dream, Free Tibet'! Good eh? It's going to fascinating to see what happens at the Olympics. I was just listening to a radio 4 programme (yes, that's right, radio 4 - online radio, it's a miracle!) about a journalist who tried to report on the goings-on in an unrestful village..needless to say he was quietly discouraged..Upon asking whether this would happen during the Olympics, they answered 'but everything will be different then'. China have promised the unprecendented: total journalistic freedom during this time. Let's see what 'Human Rights Watch' have to say:

'Just 11 months before the 2008 Beijing Games begin, journalists in China continue to face physical abuse and harassment from police and plainclothes thugs who appear to work at official behest.

“The continuing harassment and physical abuse of journalists in the countdown to the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing raises serious questions about the sincerity of government pledges to greater media freedom,” said Sophie Richardson, Asia advocacy director at Human Rights Watch. “The Chinese government seems to see a free media as an enemy rather than a watchdog of public safety and social stability.”

As part of its 2001 bid for the 2008 Olympics, the Chinese government expressly assured the IOC that it would loosen its long-held grip on the media during the Olympic Games. That commitment is consistent with the obligation of Olympic host cities to comply with Article 51 of the Olympic Charter, which stipulates that the IOC should take “all necessary steps in order to ensure the fullest coverage by the different media and the widest possible audience in the world for the Olympic Games.” Moreover, Article 35 of the Constitution of the People’s Republic of China specifically guarantees “freedom ... of the press.”

One thing's for sure: you cannot underestimate how significant these Games are to China. My friend Emily told me that on the day of the decision, they all started throwing furniture out of the windows!! It is a huge matter of national pride, and they care deperately what the rest of the world thinks about them...keeping 'face' is very important in china. Anyway, it will be interesting to see what happens next summer...that sounds like the title of a bad horror film! (-: It's hard to say how much surveillance there is. There are guards, quite literally, everywhere- but often they seem like an inoccuous/ reassuring presence (this feels like one of the safest places I've ever lived. To the point at which it is laughabke after Hackney..) But apparently police station are to be set up on university campuses, to monitor student activity. at what point does the benign become the malign??

Anyway, back to the hospital. on the first day, we had to divide ourselves into groups of 5, which regressed us right back back to primary school...Really, i hate to grumble, but soemtimes i wonder how such a dysfuctional group of people were somehow condemned to spend 5 years together. Don't get me wrong, I'm fond of them all, and happily my group is excellent- hardworking, committed, diligent, considerate and fun, thank God. But already the level of complaining, laziness, squabbling and so on within the group is quite extraordinary. Which adds fuel to my theory that a lot of people who want to be therapists are really Quite Weird. I'm sorry if any of you are reading this. But I'm sure you'll agree it's true..

There couldn't be a bigger contrast to the doctors we are working with, who are virtually saint-like in their calm demeanours, endless patience, and extensive knowledge. Unfailingly, they look relaxed, cheerful and attentive, even when seeing over 20 patients in a morning. We spent the first 2 weeks in the 'foreign' department with the lovely Dr. Wan and her assistant, Dr. Su. The name is misleading, as basically it was the 'rich old inpatients' department - i.e. a room each and plenty of time for learning. We took one case each day and practiced questioning, analysing, diagnosis and creating prescriptions, which was a marvellous introduction to the time here - we were very lucky, as the other groups were thrust straight into seeing hundred of patients at a time, whilst we were able to sit on comfy sofas and have in-depth discussions of such thorny matters as - 'so what exactly is the difference between liver yin and liver blood deficiency'?, as well as interesting diversions involving sunbjects such as chinese astrology...She emphasised a lot the necessity for flexible thinking in the practice of TCM and the the ability to be able to look from many different perspectives - ie. there are no absolute answers. She said of me, in as many words, that I have a determination to knwo nthe truth, buit to learn chinese medicine will be good for me because it will teach me to look from different angles, rather than just the one route. Perceptive, eh?

It was a wrench to leave our cozy chats and enter real hopsital life, but..next was neurology, which has just concluded. This involved lots of severe conditions such as cerebral infarctions, strokes, multiple sclerosis and myasthenia gravis, the like of which would send one scurrying in terror, but were treated quite successfully here. Of course, there was lots of western med stuff going on, which had had me poring through my western med books in a nerdish manner, and my extensive spidery handwritten notewriting has already gained me the nickname 'Hermione' (Thuy from my group is more than a little obsessed with Harry potter! of course, i'm not..) I love being a big nerd and i want to rush home at the end of the day and read up on everything. For the first time in the whole course there is nothing else to think about apart from this, no stupid essays to write (for now), no extraneous modules, i dont have any jobs or much of a social life. It's great. Basically, the day follows a pattern that goes something like this:

6am - wake up
somewhere before 6.30 - crawl out of bed
eat porridge, read online news, listen to radio 3/4 etc. On bad or Dr. Li days drink coffee..
7.35-7.45 - leave house, clamber onto bike and embark on the joys of roads as already discussed, with or without lorena and a giggly start to the day
8.10-8.20 - arrive at hospital, in a good mood if if i wasnt already from the cycle ride, woo-hoo!
8.30 - Sit down in outpatients, looking eager and attentive. Watch while Dr. Lee (aka. 'the machine' moves steadily through streams of patients suffering from insomnia and depression and such strange symptoms as 'feeling like a spider crawling up the face'. 'it's all psychological' Dr. Li says..Write everything down on clipboard and grapple with complexities of herb combinations etc
10.30 - slightly less attentive, but still keen. start to doodle and dream occasionally..
11.30 - very hungry, start fantasising about lunch but still trying hard to wonder..'Qing feng teng'...what is that, exactly...?
2 hour lunch break..go with my 'gang' to restaurant, canteen or eat own food. Try to study a little. feel sleepy. Eat freshly baked seed biscuits from stall in courtyard.
1.30 or 2pm- afternoon session with doctor. Try to think of intelligent questions.
3.30 - Hometime!!
4.15 - drink tea, eat yoghurt, do some yoga before getting down to the books again...Or play table tennis!

and so on

Dr. Li is head of the neurology department, and was a western doctor first, so his knowledge is impressive. He's a legend. his MS patients actually get better. He sees patients from 7.30 to 12.30 every morning and never falters. Some of his reports are are a little perplexing..how every patient can have a 'white tongue coating' and a 'thin pulse'i'm not quite sure..but it is a privelege to spend time with someone like him. The doctors here definitely respond to their perception of the level of interest of their students, and when we have cornered Dr. Li for an afternoon (rather than being abandoned to the young doctors who sigh at our stupidity), we've learnt all sorts of interesting stuff..the other day he even took us through a guided relaxation exercise to aid sleep..how many top neurology doctors would you find doing that??

Now, however, it's a week holiday. Moon festival, National day and all that. Lorena's gone off on adventures, but I'm out of travelling mode and into staying. Apparently the whole of china descends on Beijing in this week, so it might not be the best time to go sightseeing!

Otherwise..i've started learning calligraphy with a young art student, which is every bit as difficult as i expected (it's all very symptomatic of one's state of mind..)...been to an italian restaurant with lorena (which she of course discovered immediately, and chatted away in terrible italian and got invited to an italian-chinese moon celebration!)..met numerous young chinese wanting to improve their english. this is always a humbling experience - they
all work so hard..

I'm so happy to have finished this blog at last! i promise the next one will be sooner....

Zaijian!

Ni hao,

So...I'm writing this a couple of days in retrospect...but..I made it! To Beijing, to be precise, after only 47 days of wanderings..And here I am, it's 34 degrees and humid outside, but I'm sitting at my own desk in my own apartment, playing with the air conditioning thermostat, tapping away on my own computer, listening to jazz on radio 3 via the internet...wonderful.

But we've got a lot of days to get through. I warn you that this is not going to be as full of historical fact as the others. It was a different sort of journey, I went from not seeing any other foreigners for 2 weeks to being surrounded by them! I was also happy to give up independent travel for a while. It's fun, but it can be exhausting, as your whole life revolves around you own survival..finding somewhere to sleep, something to eat, and how to get to the next place...it's nice to just follow along behind for a change!

As I think I told you, arriving in Ulaanbataar and organising a trip happened in a rapid blur, and before I knew it, i'd changed my travellers cheques into huge piles of togrog (the exchange rate is 2300 to the pound), done my very overdue laundry, and bought a fine After mongolian horseriding-hat, and found myself in the bag of the 'Russian Van' with two Dutch, an Austrian and a Latvian. They were to be my travelling companions for the next 12 days, and together we were to experience many trials and tribulations, small disasters, moments of wonder and much hilarity..I seem to be incredibly lucky with the people I meet when I travel, and I think we all liked each other immediately, settling into a comfortable routine of shared jokes and similar wishes for the trip. This was just as well, considering we would spend the majority of it bumping around in the back of the van..these 'Russian vans' are the standard tourist and local use vehicle in mongolia, the only difference being the number of people packed inside (it's that old 'expandable space' trick all over again), and the fact that the tourist ones all have a sticker on the left hand window saying 'tourist' in english and Mongolian. Just in case you hadn't noticed them. The van itself is grey..always..with forward and back-facing seats, for ease of conversation and increase in travel sickness - ours decorated in a fetching grey and black cow-print, and very little suspension, but an incredible ability to negotiate any pot hole, hill or ford, however bad. I'm sure this was due in no small part to the skills of our driver, Buya (we had various arguments on how to spell it but this was the final version..).

Buya was very much how you'd imagine Mongolians to be - short, squat, strong, stoic, thick black hair and a belly of which he was exceedingly proud, endlessly cheerful and with a wicked sense of humour which surfaced despite the fact that we only had a few vital words in common - 'toilet', 'eat', 'ger', 'horse' and so on. I think we were a matter of some concern to him, due to our endless mishaps and general stupidity, and he teased us in a kindly way...it soon became a standing joke that every time we asked how far it was to go, he would answer '5 hours!', regardless of how far it really was, a signal for everybody to burst into giggles (really, it never stopped being funny!). He also was in possession of the 'drivers tape', a tape of Mongolian songs, which, I swear every driver had - there only seem to be 10 songs in Mongolia, you hear them EVERYWHERE! Needless to say, we knew them pretty well after a while..

Our first day of journeying took us to the ancient town of Kharkhorin, (Karakorum) which was briefly the capital of Mongolia from 1220 - 1260. The site was chosen by Chingis Khaan (you may know hims as Genghis), and it was once an elaborate network of gers and buildings. The Mongol Khaans were famous for their religious tolerance - no less than 12 different religions existed harmoniously within the town. Today there's very little to see, apart from nearby Erdene Zuu Khiid, the first Buddhist monastery in Mongolia. Like Buryatia, Buddhism in Mongolia was almost exterminated at the hands of the communist regime, this time by the home-grown Choibalsan, a stooge of Stalin - in 1937, 27,000 people were executed or 'disappeared', including 17,000 monks, and almost every monastery was razed to the ground. When back in ulaanbataar, I went to the persecution museum, which has a paticularly chilling selection of human skulls full of bullet holes: yellowed photographs of old lamas and destroyed monasteries dominate the walls. The victims were forced to dig their own graves before being murdered. You get the feeling the years of repression are not spoken about much, and there is still a town named Choibalsan, and Lenin-esque statues and street names; despite his ruthlessness, he is still surprisingly well regarded due to his efforts to protect Mongolia's independence - it must have been tough, being stuck between the soviet union and communist china. By siding with the USSR, they probably at least managed to preserve more of Mongolian culture than in the event of a chinese occupation.

I'm starting to wonder if there is anywhere that didn't suffer genocide during the 20th century. I've travelled across half the world, and the evidence shows no sign of abating. However, Chingiis khaan had a pretty good go at matching the horrible statistics: there were reported massacres of up to 1.7 million at a time, and about 30% of the population of central Asia was done away with in the nastiest possible way. I'm a bit confused about old Chingis. After a period of being frowned upon, he's now immensely popular in Mongolia: there's chingis everything - beer, brands, pop bands, resturants...you name it..I talked a bit about the influence of the Mongols in russia. Imagine, it's 1241, the Mongol hordes, complete with thousands of horses, enormous longbows and giant catapaults, have swept through eastern Europe, burnt Krakow and are poised to take the west, when Chingis's sons both die and, according to custom they must return to appoint a new leader. How relieved would you feel? The mongols also brought the Black Death to europe, with devastating effect- it still surfaces from time to time in Mongolia today, spread by eating infected marmot, the only edible carrier of the disease, prompting occasional qurantines.

However, the Mongols also chose diplomacy whenever possible; torture was never used and soldiers given strick quotas of how many civillians to kill. I already told you about the many innovations they brought, and Chingis introduced a written script for the Mongol language (later jettisoned in favour of the Russian alphabet), brought about an artistic renaissance, and set up a strict code of ethics, the yasaq, which called for discipline and religious tolerance - not to mention uniting the warring tribes. So, monster or miracle worker? I'm sure this is a subject of much debate.

It's interesting to reflect on the comparison with mongolia today - the world's most sparsely populated country, fighting off its pushy neighbours. I think you can get a little feeling of this contrast from mongolian people - kind, peaceful, unhurried , but also tough, pushy and strong. (There is no such thing as a queue). You've got to be tough to be a nomad (50 % of the population are nomadic or semi nomadic)- there's nothing romantic about living in a state of pure survival. Life revolves around the ger (yurt), a communal living place with its own rules of etiquette, requiring a large degree of cooperation, which is said to have had a profound effect on the national character. During the winters of 1999 to 2002 11 million animals were killed due to the severe weather of the- 'zud' (harsh winter, when livestock cannot find grass). The 'five snouts' - cattle (this includes yak), goats, sheep, horses and Bactrian camels. These represent everything - food, fuel, clothing, and of course wealth, in varying amounts - I like the idea of the ratio of animals - 'i'll swap you one horse for six sheep' and so on! If you are wondering what is in all those empty spaces, I'll tell you. 1. Grass 2. Herds of assorted animals 3. Occasional gers 4. Lots and lots of space. I cannot emphasise this 4th point enough. You can drive for 5 hours and see maybe 10 gers - when stopping for lunch, sometimes a child will appear from apparently endless plains, sunburned and skinny with a mangy dog in tow. Where do they go? I believe that Mongolia as a country occupies a strong position in the imagination, and gazing across the green and brown steppe, topped by panoramic skies of bright blue with picture-book fluffy clouds, it is everything you would expect. To me however, it looks best in darkness - I never knew there were so many stars. Lying outside your ger, bundled up in warm clothes, a cozy fire roaring inside, listening to the sounds of yak snorting as they pass by, watching the stars falling to earth (yes, I know they're meteors really..)...what could be nicer? Apart from food not involving mutton, fat or horsemilk!

So..oh yes, Karakorum- not much left now, apart from nearby Erdene Zuu Khiid, a beautiful but partially destroyed monastery in a desert setting. I hate making comparisons, but after visiting the perfectly preserved living monasteries of Ladakh, there was something sad about the few still standing in mongolia - despite the exquisite architecture, and the efforts being made to restore them and revive buddhist knowledge, it feels there is a long way to go. There's a lot of religious competition going on right now- evangelical Christian groups, always quick to spot a religious vacuum in the wake of state atheism - are everywhere, and it is generally considered a more 'modern' religion.

We continued to Terkhin Tsagaan Nuur, the 'white lake', perfect for swimming and gazing at the sunset. Next door to our ger, with its fine lakeside view, was a mongolian family on holiday - about 19 in a ger, with one incongruous dutchman who had married a mongolian woman, they slaughtered a sheep for supper and had a great old party. the mongolians I saw butchering animals gave the impression of having done it since birth, (which they probably had, almost), and it was an interesting protest to watch: neat, humane, unwasteful, each part of the animal having a specific purpose. Nearby was an extinct volcano which we climbed up to with hordes of mongolian tourists(after some confusion of where we were actually going, having asked Buya if we should take our backpacks and if we could swim there, much to his amusement!) Like everywhere else, there were lots of horses, and the next morning we all clambered onto the rock-hard saddles and went for a ride. I had mixed feelings about horseriding in mongolia. It's absolutely incredible to canter across a wide open plain. But attitudes towards horses are just different, and treatment, by our standards, rough - I winced every time i saw them being yanked around by the mouth and hit with large sticks, and the rough rope bridles and girths chafe their skin. But those used for tourists seemed in good condition at least..after all, the mongols were the original horsemen, so who are we to impose a set of standards?

Anyway, mongolian or not, all horses are easily startled, and just as we were jubilantly returning, the one ridden by Manuela, the Austrian, was spooked by something and she fell off. And didn't get up. It was a horrible moment, seeing her prone form ahead and I was terrified she might have hit her head (as of course we weren't wearing hats). Everybody clustered around her, us, mongolians, and a group of Israelis who magically appeared like shining knights, being the only people who seemed to know what to do. (Let me take this opportunity to take back any nasty things i may have said in the past about travelling israelis. If i'm ever in an emergency, I want some on hand!) One of them, Tal, was a medic in the army and she did all the important checks and announced we should get her to hospital as soon as possible.

As we were by a lake in the middle of a national park, and the end of a long rough track, this was not such an easy proposition, and, trying to reassure poor Manuela as she lay unable to move and on the verge of fainting, we waited anxiously for the doctor to arrive. He seemed optomistic, announcing that their seemed to be no serious damage but she should be checked anyway, so, after the israelis had created a stretcher and tied it into the van with some yellow and orange ropes (the colour seemed fortuitous, at least), manuela, myself and three mongolians set off down the agonizingly bumpy road to the town. It must have been very painful, though i tried hard to hold her still, and upon arrival, the doctor merrily announced she could walk to the door, which she managed with help. All the mongolians present were frankly, pretty useless and distinctly lacking in sympathy...I guess falling off horses is a common occurrence! The scene inside the clinic, despite the severity of the situation, was quite comic, as the doctor cracked jokes and then looked embarrassed about having to bandage her up (an ultrasound having shown no internal damage), announced she would be 'tomorrow, ok!' and recommended smoking a cigarette, much to her delight!

In the end, it was a fortunate end to what could have been a very nasty situation, as Manuela had only bad bruising - we waited another day (she certainly chose a beautiful spot to get injured in!), and, for the rest of trip, she stoically endured the endlessly bumpy roads. I feel that there should be a different word for Mongolian roads. They are not roads as we know them! I think we went on one paved road for the entire trip, the only other being a a permanent state of roadworks (involving digging the whole thing up and then leaving it to ripen, perhaps - otherwise it is simply a track in various grades of drivable-upon-ness. This is fine until it rains...and when it rains, it really rains! But mostly we were pretty lucky. After a while though, much as you'd hate to admit it, you start to dream of the A1... but it's nothing a few mongolian songs, and a bowl of airag can't fix! (This latter substance is a mildly alcoholic drink made with fermented mare's milk. Ok, it's disgusting! But it sounds good!)

We continued through the town of Moron, where we encountered the Israelis, one of whom was sick, causing me to whip out the 99 kinds of medicine i had with me (i'd already got it a bit of acupuncture with manuela) and thereafter we travelled in tandem with them, as they'd organised their trip through the same guest house, so of course we ended up nin exactly the same places..This is what travelling in mongolia is like...so much space, and yet you bump into the same people wherever you go! It seems to attract nice people though, so it was fun, and still a great novelty after Russia! After a week of journeying, we reached our goal, the shining jewel that is Khovsgol Nur (Khovsgol lake), high, pure and clear, ringed by rocky mountains and pine forests, home to bears, moose, argali sheep, shamans and reindeer herders. This was the landscape I'd glimpsed from my Siberian train, and so it was wonderful to be in it, to sit and listen to the sounds of the forest and swim in icy-cold khovsgol nur, the deepest lake in central asia, containing between 1- 2% of the world's fresh water - it so clear that you can see every pebble on the bottom through the endlessly shifting shades of turquoise..

But enough rhapsodising. At this point we divided for a couple of days, some choosing to hike (and poor old manuela to sit and look at the lake), whilst I, having already picked up the 'why walk if you can ride'? attitude, opted for a 2 day horseriding trek. This involved me..and six Korean students, on a horse for a first time (brave people!), and two young laid back mongolian guides who were kept constantly amused by rescuing the koreans from wherever their horses had taken them in search of something to munch on and shouting 'choo' at them (this is what you say to make your horse go faster. I refused to particpate!). As we rode across sweeping plains, through thick forests, along rivers and over mountain passes, they sang and whistled constantly, beautiful, traditional tunes that were deeply evocative of..well, riding a horse through Mongolia! That night we stayed in a ger by the lakeside (the koreans sweetly insisting that I shared with them - 'we koreans, we sleep on floor'!, huddled around the fire as the ground outside became covered with frost overnight. Happily I have a lovely warm sleeping bag (these things make a greaty difference to one's general travelling happiness!), but in the morning the poor koreans were all cuddled up together, shivering..ahhh...

In true 'Mongolian time' style, the guides didn't turn up with the horses until mid-afternoon, and on my wanderings, I met a dejected figure sitting by the lakeside next to the dying embers of a campfire, with several saddles next to him. It turned out him and his friend had bought some horses, intending to go for a long trip through the north, but, despite sitting up all night to watch them, they had been stolen, after only three days, the ropes cut and whisked away into the dark forest. Actually, they suspected they had followed by the person they bought them from, who had agreed to buy them back at the end... So, there's a cautionary tale, should you have a romantic vision of buying a horse and taking off across the plains. I heard of some other people whose horses were so wild, all they could do in the end was let them go. I don't know if mongolians really steal horses from each other, but apparently across the russian/ mongolian border it's a big problem.

Reunited, we trundled on south for our last few days, a few more camfires and starry nights, another monastery, the peaceful Amarbayasgalant Khiid. We stayed in the only room of a little house next door, filled with family photos and buddhist artefacts, and as I walked across the valley,, with shining white stupas behind me, smelling the distinctive smell of the flowering grass the grows everywhere, and encountering three horsemen wrapped in dels (traditional dress), who called 'sai bain nu' through the encroaching dusk, I felt that I'd trul discovered the Mongolia of my imagination at last.

Unfortunately, this dream didn't last long, as during the night I started to feel really sick, and my stomach was in spasms, and all I could think about was the flies, and the heat, and the ticking clock, and the smell of mutton and milk tea...eventually I dragged my sleeping bag outside, where the sky was spitefully free of stars and lay listening to the howling and barking of the dogs as they raced around the village. It was not an enjoyable experience. Nor was the 8 hours of driving the next day (though i've never been so happy to see a paved road!) I staggered back to my hostel and slept for a long time, until i felt fine. I think i well (whisper it) was just..sick..of travelling! After all those weeks of motion, it was time to stay still for a while.

Of Ulaanbataar, i don't have much to say..i can't say i was paticularly enamoured with its ugly, noisy streets, shiny facades that seemed to have no substance. Though I'm sure it would be a fascinating place if you had time to get to know it, it gives the impression of being somewhere that has grown up so quickly that it couldn't keep up with itself..that the lack of infrastructure doesnt match the new fashionable exterior and brand advertising. After a final meal involving - wait for it- salad! , our little band parted ways, sophie and michael (dutch) for more hiking, manuela home to austria, the israelis to the south of china and myself and Dana (the latvian) to beijing. This involved an overnight train, which was comfortable an uneventful, to Zamyn-Uud, the bordertown, where we found a ride in a battered old jeep with a mongolian family across the border. It took 4 1/2 hours of queuing (I say queuing. only mongolians could find a way of pushing in in a long line of tightly parked jeeps in the desert), in the blazing heat (well, hey, at least we saw a bit of the Gobi!), and some amusing incidents including a border guard who panicked as he couldnt undo the lock on my violin case, and i discovered sitting with my book entitled 'China against the world' (I quickly hid it, along with the free tibet sticker!). After passing under the grand rainbow arch, the chinese town of Erlian immediately felt different from Mongolia (although it is in the area of inner mongolia) - neater, wealthier, the food had vegetables in..We easily procurred tickets for the night bus to beijing, discovering to our amazement that it was full of bunkbeds! and they give you a little red to put your shoes into. it's wonderful (though not good if you are tall1). I wonder if it would take off in england..

And, at 6am, were bundled out onto the streets of beijing, somewhere, somewhere in its vastness, ate a breakfast of speing onion pancakes and clambered into a taxi to Wudaokou. But the rest is for another time. Right now I can see people dancing in the dusk in the square outside my window, the crickets are chirping and I'm going to eat some watermelon from the stall around the corner.

Zaijian for now...

London - Beijing

47 days

14 trains

2 buses

1 russian van

and a mongolian horse

So, I'm not quite done with Russia yet...

I promised you a little bit of railway history. So, now that I've bid farewell to the Trans-Siberian (I feel 'express' may be stretching it a bit), let's talk a bit about how it all started.

As you most probably know, in the latter half of the 19th century, railways became both a means to, as well as a symbol of, power and wealth. They allowed countries to expand their empires, to exploit natural resources and to settle 'wild' territories. Competition grew as to the miles of track laid, and the architectral grandeur of railway stations. Russia, of course, looked eastward into the depths of Siberia and the far-off promise of the Pacific coast, with its possibilities of trade and commerce. Russia was slipping away from this prize; a little late in getting into the industrial revolution, due to being dominated by a fairly useless land-owning aristocracy, in 1857 Tsar Alexander II issued a Railway Decree, and huge amounts of railway track were constructed between 1860 and 1890. However, this was confined mainly to European Russia.

A geological expedition in the 1840s had discovered that the Amur river region had been left unguarded by the Chinese. A new governor-general, the ambitious Nikolai Muravyov, was appointed to Eastern Sibera. He firmly believed that it was Russia's destiny to dvelop Siberia. With a few cossacks to help hin along, he cruised the Amur river, challenging China and establishing new Russian towns. Eventually. afetr a bit of negotiation, he was able to re-draw he border with China, along the amur river in the south and the Ussuri in the east, and added 'Amursky' to his name.

Muravyov-Amursky,as he was now known, pursued his dream of a railway going east, attracting interest from may foreign companies. The government of St. Petersburg however, just weren't interested.

Then a whole host of things happened that triggered the move into Siberia. Famines in the 1880s, caused by population growth and bad weather. lead the government to pursue a policy of migration to western and southern Siberia. To the land-owners, who were suffering the wrath of angry villagers in the form of burning manor houses. this began to seem like an attractive option. An unrest among Siberia's settlers, complaining of their colonial status and comparing themselves unfavourably to the American West, fuelled fears that Siberia might seek independence, led to a general consensus that a crackdown was necessary.

China's empire was declining, and far-eatern shores were open to competition. This made Russia vulnerable - attacks by British and French warships during the Crimean was had already demonstrated this. The opening of the Suez canal and the completion of the Canadian-Pacific railroad allowed the British east access to the area, continuing the ongoing territorial competition - the 'Great Game' - between the two countries. And then, Tsar Aleaxander II was assinated, and was succeeded by his son, Alexander III. Whilst Alexander II had been a liberal, modernising force, abolishing serfdom and creating democratic assemblies the 'Tsar reformer', his son was an old=school political reactionary who loved all those old ideological tenets: autocracy, orthoxy, and of course, empire. In short, he was a nationalist who wanted to confirm Russia's status. In 1886 he gave this response to the governor of Irkutsk:

'How many reports from Siberian governors have I not read already, nd I have to admit with shame and grief that until now the government has done nothing to satisfy the requirements of this rich but neglected region. It is time, high time.'

In short, it was time to be build a railway. in March 1891, he officially proclaimed the beginning of construction of a Tran-Siberian railway,s ending his son to lay the first stone in Vladivostok.

Here enters another interesting character, Serge Witte. A ticket-seleer at tye beginnig of russia's railway boom, he quickly rose to stationmaster, and then company director, rising swiftly through the governmantal ranks to become mimister of transport and finance. But he was always an outsider in the court of the tsar. Not that this seemed to matter to him: he shared the Tsar's railway vision, and with his forceful personality, saw himself as an empire builder of grand proportions. As the tsar did not want foreign investment, he was forced to scrape money from the unhealthy economy by any means possible, even printing more roubles, triggering a wave of inflation.

Construction began at Chelyabinsk, in the southern Ural mountains, the railway would run parallel to the old post road (as traveled by Chekhov) as far as Irkutsk, the breaking across the uncharted territories of Baikal, Amur and Ussuri, to Vladivostok. Later, the line was moved futher north towards the influentila mining econmies of towns such as Yekatinerinburg.

As you would imagine, building a railway across Siberia in the late 19th century was not a very easy task. There was very little ready labour. Workers were recruited, or conscripted, from all over the empire. Some were convicts, diverted en-route to Sakhalin island. They worked long hours in appalling conditions, with just shovels and picks, and horses for hauling, with which to create this engineering miracle. It was incredibly hot, and icily cold, and they were prey to many diseases, bandits and even hungry tigers. Maintaining suppy lines of food and building supplies was difficult, to say the least.

As construction continued, both east and west, the engineers faced many problems. Thick forest, mountains, swamps and seemingly endless rivers to name but a few. Through central Siberia, water from the drained bogs collected in stagant pools, bringing clouds of mosquitoes. Continuing around the rocky shores of Lake Baikal, an Italian engineer was enlisted to create an elaborate network of arched supports; as the line moved eastward, torrential rivers and heavy floods washed away newly laid tracks and bridges. Across the Amur river, the final section to be completed, a bridge of almost 2km was required.

But this wasn't enough for Witte. After negotiations with the Chinese, he eventually secured the rights for a Manchurian section in 1894. The flat lands and open valleys must have been a relief to the builders after getting trhough Siberia. However, not all ran smoothly: Chinese nationalism turned into violence; tracks was torn up, stations set on fire, and the Russian army had to intervene. The completed line reduced the journey distance by over 600km.

Finally, in 1898, two years ahead of schedule, (I'm sure Britsh rail could learn a few lessons!), the first train rolled into Irkustk. But it was not until 1900 that the Trans-Siberian was officially unveiled, at the Paris Exhibition. Billed as the ultimate luxury experience, travellers were enticed by exotic landscape pictures and mock dining cars filled with caviar, snd seduced by promises of a musical alson, complete with piano, a smoking car, a library, gymnasium and even a marble and brass bath!

Unsurprisingly, the first Trans-Siberian voyages were not quiote as comfortable as advertised - the train often ran out of food, and the speed with which the line had been constructed lead to a high accient rate (warped rails, buckled bridges and so on), leading to delays that could last days. One passenger wrote:

'A traveller in these far Eastern lands gradually loses his impatience and finally ceases to care whether his train goes fast or slowly, or does not go at all. Certainly we have been two hours at this station for no apparent reason.'

Not much changed there then!

In addition to the first class travellers, the third class compartments were packed full of new immigrants, as part of the government's settlement programme. It cost just 20 roubles (about 40n pence by today's exchange rates) to travel more than 3200km.

In the late 19th century, many new industries sprang up along the line, mills, factories, mines; an engineering and technical school was founded in Tomsk. but they could not keep pace with the insatiable demands the railway brought..

Throughout the 20th century, a number of wars and revolutions were to affect the railway. In turn, it was to play a large part in the chaotic political atmosphere of the coming years. In 1905, anti-tsarist protestors, disgusted by Russia's poor performance in the Russo-Japanese was (in which the railway proved insuficient to meet the demands of war), were shot down outside the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg. Among these were the railway workers, who, like the majority of the Russian working population, laboured for bad wages and working conditions. However, they had a special power at their dispensation: by going on strike they coulod paralyse the economy, and eventually created an All-Russia Union of Railroad Workers, calling for higher wages, shorter working hours and the right to strike. In a response to the government's attempts to impose martial law, a nationwide general strike was issued, which was only lifted after the tsar issued the October manifesto, promising to reform the autocracy into a constitutional monarchy.

In 1917, the railway workers took the side of the Bolsheviks, refusing to transport the tsarist troups, and helping to create a successful Revolution. But in 1918, Siberia came under contention again, as returning Czech POWs sided with the White Russians to seize control of the western part of the railway, whilst the Japanese took the easten part. A separatist Siberian republic was formed in Omsk, until it was overthrown by Admiral Kolchak, who proclaimed himself the supreme ruler of Siberia. Another former Tsarist general took over the manchurian section, and Cossacks picked away at the Baikal and Amur regions. The Russian plans for donmination weren't going very well..It took the Bolshevik's more than three years to regain control, and Kolchak was executed.

The Soviet rulers were determined that Siberia would be a place of industrial growth. To do this, they built a new railway track alongside the original one, replaced the original light rails with heaver ones, and wooden supports with iron and steel. Large -scale projects in Siberia brought coal, coke, iron and steel. Workers' conditions didn't improve much but hey, they were shining examples of the new proleteriat. Stalin's forced labour camps helped along the industrial revolution no end.

During the German occupation, the railway was able to carry supplies to the troups at the front, eventually wearind down the Nazis. Then in the 1950s, the discovery of oil and gas in Siberia promoted the development of towns throughout the region. I met a man from Australia on the bus yesterday (the first foreigner i've really spoken to in 2 weeks!) who had spent some time working managing a mine in siberia, north of ulan ude. As you can imagine, he had some pretty crazy stories...combinations of copious amounts of vodka and heavy machinery..He also said that the mine was enver going to actually make much money, due to the impossible tangle of Russian bureacracy.

Afetr Kruschev liberated thousands of labour camp inmates, new incentives were offered to lure skilled workers to the region: military academies flourished in secrecy. by 1920, there were 13 Siberain cities with more than 250, 000 inhabitants.

Other parts of the railway were added later: the trans-Mongolian, in the midst of the chinese -soviet tussle for mongolia: the Turkestan-Siberian, running through ther steppe of Kazakstan, and the wonderful-sounding Baikal-Amur Mainline (BAM), which passes along the northern shores of lake baikal, through some truly wild and inhospitable terrain, swamps, wide rivers, permafrost and seven mountain ranges, to Sovetskaya Gavan on the northern Pacific shoreline. Work beagan in the 1930s , and was eventually opened in 1991, built by a diverse labour force: Japanese and German POWs, and huge numbers of the communist youth league 'volunteers' from all over the Soviet Union. The final cost of construction was no less than 25 billion dollars. New lines are planned fro th future..korea seems to be next on the agenda.

New separatist movements have recently taken hold of Siberia, and the privatisation of state property had lead to a crazy scramble for material gain, a new kind of adventurer. Regional governors openly defy the powers that be in Moscow. The Mafia, people seem to be in general accordance, have a stranglehold over the region.It could be said Siberia is returning to the 'Wild Wild East' of olden days...

Of course, the Russians were not the first people to live in Siberia. The indigenous cultures were gradually assimilated into the population...one place in which an indiginous society flourishes alongside the Russians is Buryatia (autonomous reoublic of), capital, Ulan Ude. I told you a little about them last time. But let's talk a bit more.

Ulan-Ude was a fascinating place, hot dusty, on a hill looking down to the wide Selenga river, where I sat in the evening watching the sun set and the kids hanging out. it is also full of determined talkative people...I ate dinner in a resturant one evening where some kind of party was going on, full of drunk Buryat women on the dance floor who tried to persuade me to join them. they were like your mum's embarassing friend, but worse, screaming and whooping as they shimmied to the strain of russain pop..There were also a lot of people staggering around the street, and i met my first really drunk and annoying men on public transport on a bus. (one thing I'll say for russian men- they're very polite. I never expeienced any kind of harrassment that I can recall). I don't know why indigenous cultures always seem to have such a high rate of alcoholism, but it's really sad...

I spent my second day entirely in museums, one of which (the truly fantastic Ethnographic museum) was actually in the forest a few km outside U-U; it was lovely to be in the taiga at last after all that time looking at it, smelling the pine trees, listening to the choruses of birds and the rasping of crickets..

This is a little of what i learnt..

There were four main tribes that settled the shores of Lake-Baikal. One of these, the Khari-Buryats, stayed in the SE region. They hunted elk, bear, lynx, wolf, sable and fox, fished, and bred reindeer.
The first non-indigenous settlers in Siberia were the Cossacks, who set up their own self-governing communities, occupying themeselves with horse and cattle breeding and cultivation. I saw some reconstructions of these cossack towns: with houses full of saddles, furs and weapons for hunting, they gace a vivid impression of 'frontier' life. The Russians built wooden forts (Ostrogs), symbols of the Tsrist govermental power, all along the shores of Siberain rivers. Ulan-Ude (Verchneudsky ostrog) was established at the same time that london was burning, 1666. The purpose of the Russian administration here was to fill the Tsar's metaphorical coffers, by collecting 'yasak' - taxes, in the form of 'soft' currency - furs, gold and silver. Tribes also collected from each other - the Buryats paid to the more powerful Mongols, but collected from the south Siberian tribes such as the Tungus. It all sounded a bit like a giant game of monopoly!

In 1702-03, the Khari_Buryats travelled to Moscow on horseback, to ask Peter I ('the Great') for their lands back. It seemd he was not unsympathetic to their plight, and in 1703 he issued a decree; the Siberian settlers must follow his order 'To keep the best lands (rich, fertile soil) for the Buryats'. Sixty years later, four Buryat-Cossack regiments were founded, which must have been a formidable force indeed. At the end of the eighteenth century, a trading centre was established in the town of Kyakhta, on the Mongolian (Chinese) border, allowing the lucrative import of tea, creating a temporary town of millionaires; but when the Suez canal opened up in 1869, a cheaper way to import tea to Europe was found, and it became a ghost town. I travelled through it by bus, and couldn't see much there..yes, I took a bus to Mongolia! I was getting a bit bored with trains, and also the train reputedly can take up to 11 hours at the border! To my surprise, we passes through fairly smoothly, and my russian visa paranoia proved unfounded; the female border guard shouted at me in Russian for a while, then abrubtly stamped it and sent me on my way. In fact, I was quicker than most other people. The man in front of me spent several hours (or so it felt) in conversation about his passport, the weather, the meaning of life, the price of eggs etc. I just don;t understand why transactions in Russian take SO LONG! The Australian explained something that maybe throws a little light on it; he said that russian is such a complicated language that it's very difficult to say anything directly..you have so many possibilities of what you might mean, that you must keep narrowing them down until eventually you both understand the same thing. It would explain a lot....Apart from that, the bus was long, uncomfortable and hot,a and I was cramped into the very back seat. But I was so in thrall at the views of the Mongolian steppe spreading out before me that I almost didn't mind..

In their beliefs the Buryats were both shamanic and Buddhist; in the outdoor museum there was a reconstructed camp, the 'Evenk Shaman Complex'; they looked a bit like teepees, and were full of mysterious and wonderful symbols of shamanic lore. According to the description, the structuires consist of three parts, the shaman house, 'Darpe' the upper world, consisting of the world of good spirits, shamanic helpers such as homekeni bears, and a raft made of taimens (white fish). 'Onan', the lower world, of evil spirits and the dead, represented by figures of wolves and gluttons. The middle world was shown by anthropomorphous pictures and figures of birds; this was the shaman house, the world of the Earth, used to hold the Shamanic ceremonies. It is thought that these ideas spread across the frozen Bering strait, to the place we know as North America...

The type of Buddhism practised in Buryatia is similar to that of Tibet: Mayahana of the Gelukpa school. When it arrived in the 16th century, it borrowed and assimilated many components of Shamanism; the cult of nature, and the cult of ancestors were included in rituals. As Buddhism spread, it influenced much of the social and cultural development of the Buryats; writing, literacy, astronomy, and medicine, architecture, art, traditions, customs...and so on. In 1741 it was proclaimed as the official Buryatian religion byt eh rather wonderfully named Empress Yelizaveta Petrovna. It linked Buryatia with India, Tibet, China and Mongolia, and by the end of the 19th century was a powerful religious and political force. The supreme head was named the Pandido Khambo Lama, who, interestingly, was appointed by Tsarist decree.

In the 1930s and 40s, almost every monastery was tragically destroyed by he stooges of Stalin. About a thousand monks were arrested or murdered. Now, Buddhism is being slowly revived: the Ivolinsky Datsan, outside Ulan ude which sadly, I didn't have time to see, is its only real functioning centre. The historical museum has a beautiful collection of thankas and statues, which must have been collected from their ruined surroundings. I met a man their who was from 'proper' Siberia (the east). He looked exactly as you'd imagine, beard, pitted face. He was obviously keen to practise speaking englsih. 'Do you believe in God?' he asked me. I found this an odd question, especially as we were in the Buddhist section at the time. 'Yes' I said. 'I don't' he said, with some pride. 'oh, so you're an atheist?' I asked. He answered affirmatively, smirking. I wasn't quite sure how to respond to this. 'Well done, it's what Stalin always wanted' I was tempted to say. But I didn't.

Siberia has long been a shelter for those on the outside of society. While Peter may have had some sympathy for Buryats, he certainly didn't have any for the Old Believers (Semeiskye). In fact, he persecuted them, amking them officially illegal, locking them up in wooden forts or sending them into exile. They were sent, or fled, to Siberia from all over Russia, Ukraine, Poland, Romania and even Tureky. In 1735 and 1764, the Tsarist government created the first major exile of the 'Polish Semeiskye', to a 'terrible god-forsaken place', around the shores of Baikal. Mind you, they were still expected to develop agriculture and supply the miners with food. I told you of my obsession with them before, and as you can imagine, I was Very Excited to discover a whole strip of homesteads at the ethnological museum. Slightly to my surprise, they were very homely, and full of cloths, patterns and decorations in bright cheery colours, almost gaudy, reminding me of the churches of Kiev. Their traditional costume too, was colourful and pretty, with many adornments and distinctive wide belts. These didn't look like a people full of doom and gloom. I think I would have liked them. They must have been a civilising influence in the 'Wild East'. Of course, there were some very odd ideas, not to mention mass suicides. But full marks for commitment.

They certainly had persistence - despite being banned in 1797, they carried on secret 'typographies' to print books. From the early nineteenth century, they increasingly struggled with the authorities who tried to make them change their ways. Until the end of the 19th century, they did not drink alcohol or smoke, and always worked outdoors and ate healthily. No wonder then, that, despite refusing to use modern medicine, they were statistically far healthier than the rest of the vodka and fat guzzling population. During Soviet times, collectivisation and appropriation of possessions brought suffering, but, used to living communally, the Old Believer kolkhozes (collective farms) were always the most successful.

There's still a few of them around now, of course, living quietly and preserving iron-cast tradition. I wonder where they are

But now..it's midnight (I love these 24 hour internet cafes after writing from russian post offices!) I'm in Mongolia! having arrived in Ulaanbaatar, I went straight to UB guesthouse to ask about tours, expecting it would be some days before I could organise anything..but lo and behold, it just so happened there would be a meeting at 4pm about a trip to the North, which is the part that attracts me the most (forest and mountains and lakes), and ...within hours, it was organised, agrred and paid for (less than 250 dollars for 12 days..incredible..) and i wandered off in a daze to organise things. I was a little nervous to see what my fellow travellers would be like, and I prayed for northern europeans. In my opinion they always make the best travelling companions...and happily, they turned out to be dutch, austrian and latvian, and seem very nice! But I'll let you know! it will be strange and interesting to travel with others for a while..

So it may be some time before you hear from me again, I'm off to Khovsgol to stay with nomads, swim in lakes, ride horses and endure some crazy roads. woo hoo!

This is your asian correspondant, signing out..

No, not really. But I thought I'd get your interest!

It's 9.30 in the morning and I'm in Ulan-Ude (if you look on the map, it's just to the east of Lake Baikal, close to the Mongolian border). there's just been a big thunderstorm, which was fun, and it felt distinctly like 'Asian rain' (although those of you in britain may disagree!). I't now 5 hours ahead of Moscow time, which makes me 8 hours ahead of the UK, I think..I keep losing hours, it's very disconcerting, though it does of course help time on trains to, literaaly, go more quickly..

So..Tomsk. A very nice town. With nothing, apparently, to do with Wombles. It's a little way north of the Tran-Siberian line -look for Taiga andn go up a little. I'm going to be reallly, really lazy and quote from wikipedia, which gives a nice summary of its interesting history.

'In 1604, Tomsk was established under a decree from Tsar Boris Godunov, He sent 200 Cossacks under the command of Vasiliy Tyrkov and Gavriil Pisemsky to construct a fortress at the bank of the Tom River overlooking what would become the city of Tomsk. A tribal leader, Toyan, accepted Russian control and ceded the land for the fortress to the Tsar.

In 1804, the government selected Tomsk to become the center for a new governorate which would include the modern cities of Novosibirsk, Kemerovo, Krasnoyarsk and eastern Kazakhstan. The new status brought development and the city grew quickly.

The discovery of gold in 1830 brought further development to Tomsk in the 19th century. However, when the Trans-Siberian Railroad bypassed the city in favor of the village of Novonikolayevka (now Novosibirsk), development began to move south to connect with the railroad. In time, Novosibirsk would pass Tomsk in importance.

In the mid-19th century, one-fifth of the city's residents were exiles. However, within a few years, the city would be reinvented as an educational center in Siberia with the establishment of Tomsk State University and Tomsk Polytechnic University. By World War Two, every 12th resident of the city was a student.

After the Russian Revolution the city was a notable centre of the White movement, led by Anatoly Pepelyayev and Maria Bochkareva, among others. After the town's capture by the Red Army, Tomsk was incorporated into the West Siberia region and later into the Novosibirsk Region.

As in many Siberian cities, Tomsk found many factories relocated there to protect them from the Nazi invasion. The Soviet government then estabished Tomsk Oblast with Tomsk as the center.'

(Wikipedia)

All in all, it's a studenty town, styled as the 'Oxford of Siberia'. This of course means nice old buildings with green parks full of drunken students on a saturday night. Tomsk is also famous for its wooden Siberian architecture, beautifully made and elaborately carved houses. It also has a wooden fortress which I climbed up to admire the views, and there met two very funny men with an array of terrifying looking weapons. They were obviously there to do demonstrations for tourists, but it was late on a sunday afternoon and they were more than a little inebriated, which was a bit alarming considering the number of sharp-edged things they were brandishing. One of them told me that his name was Nikolai Nikolaivich (I love these russian names!) and proudly showed me his family tree showing his descent from the original settlers of Tomsk. We had a very amusing time creating poses with the different implements and they sent me away, after much giggling, with some old coins, a photo of them fully-costumed, and I promised (at least I think I did as we didn't actually speak any of the others' language..) to tell people that they run winter hunting expeditions.

It was not, however, until I discovered the beach that I had any sense of a Siberian town as tame and convivial. Tomsk is built on the incredibly wide Tom river, and, on an afternoon in which the rain was lashing down, I walked along its wild and windy shores, staring across at the wilderness beyond, and imagined what it must have been like to be guarding that high wooden fortress on such a stormy day, scouring the river for signs of attack..Incidentally, the Cossacks were a bit of a mystery to me before, but I've now been enlightened. They were, in fact, a special type of russian soldier, who lived in self-governing communities in the southern and eastern edges of the russian empire. Known to be fierce warriors and great horesmen, their lifestyle was 'semi-asiatic', and Gogol described them like this:

'The Cossacks are a people belonging to Europe in terms of their faith and location, but at the same time totally Asiatic in their way of life, their customs and their dress. They are a people in which two opposite parts of the world, two opposing spirits, have come together...[they had] the swiftness of a tiger out of hiding places when they launched a raid.'

Anyway, this was all very well, all this historical ambling and musing, but the fact was that, well, I was a bit fed up with not having anyone to talk to. What was it like, living in Siberia? These are things yoi cannot know by looking. What I really wanted was an actual conversation.

You should be careful what you wish for..

It began on the day I was leaving Tomsk. Having spent the morning rather grumpily watching the world service (making full use of - a television!), I set off to the train station to leave my bags as my train was in the evening. Of course, the left-luggage place, at which I arrived at 12.30, was closed from 12-2, which seemed to echo my current mood. A Russian girl was also standing outside the barred window looking flummoxed, and to my surprise she spoke to me in perfect english, and we agreed the only thing to do was to sit in a cafe until it opened.

Her name was Marsha, and she had come to Tomsk to sit univesrity entrance exams, which seem to be pretty tough..she had gone to an 'english' school which explained her language skills, and we had a very interesting conversation about many things including russian politics, history and literature, and she put me straight on a few things (apparently drinking vodka is quite all right..). She told me about how Siberia, and Asian russia is viewed almost as a different country by western russia (they think they all live in huts), and that Tomsk was very friendly,a s far as Siberian towns went (people were friendly), but this was unusual - in her town, for example, they would deliberately send strangers in the wrong direction! (not going there then). She loved the president and I think was a bit offended when i commented on the current, er 'difficulties' out two nations were experiencing..
She struck me, like most other russian girls that I've met, as being a mixture of a kind of haoughty glamour(they all are until some indefinable age at which the hair-dye and lycra come out), intellectually clever, and giggly in a teenage sort of way.

It turned out that we were on the same train, even though she was going south and i east (they seem to constantly attach and detach carriages, which can be confusing when you come back to your train after a stop to discover that your carriage is in a totally different position in the train to where it was before!), so we walked around Tomsk a bit together. The problem with making friends, (and this sounds awful, I know, but true!),paticularly ones from other countries where communication is bit more of a strain, is that, after an hour or two, you quite want to get rid of them, so that you can carry on with whatever you were doing at the time..This can be hard to manage if poeple don't take hints..but eventually we parted ways promising to meet at the station later. Which we didn't as I arrived only the last minute, and couldn't see her. I felt a bit bad about this, until it occurred to me that it was unlikely I would want to spend an entire day with a 17 year old english girl either!

On the train, I discovered my place (the bottom bunk this time), and as I staggered in flinging my rucksack down with relief, I was stared at with some bemusemnt by three russian men. Oh dear, I thought, these are my companions for the next 40 hours.

Then the following things happened.
Everybody started talking at once. We quickly ascertained we couldn't understand each other. The the girl from across the way (Platskarntney carriages are designed so that there is one long corridor, divided into sections, with space for four people to sleep on one side of the corridor and two on the other, so effectively you have open compartments grouped into sixes) said something in english. Hooray! She didn't as speak it as well as marsha, but considering, she told me, she hadn't tried to speak it for 5 years, it was pretty impressive! Her name was Elena, and she had just been to Tomsk - her first trip away fom her home town of Chita- to visit her boyfriend, and spent much of the trip gazing into the distance with a wistful expression. I felt for her. It's hard being 19!

So, back to the others..on closer inspection they turned out to be an old man with a gold tooth and a twinkly smile, and what I presumed was his son, who must have been about 40, who had one of the kindest faces I've seen. He had very dark hair and I wondered if he was part Buryat. The Buryat people are indigenous to this region, and the largest indigenious group in Russia (Ulan-Ude is in the 'Buryat Republic', or 'Buryatia', as in the person who called out to me cheerily 'welcome to Buryatia' in the street last night!) Ethnically, Buryats are similar to Mongolians. Traditionally, they vary in region between nomadicism and agriculturalism, and whilst some have adopted Buddhism, others retain shmanic practices. Of course, in his usual charming manner, Stalin cracked down massively on these practices, destroying almost all the Buddhist temples (which are now slowly being revived), and having more than 10,000 Buryat killed.

We also passed by the Tuvan republic (we were joined by a Tuvan woman for a little while), and I longed to run off and discover its mysterious mountains and legendary throat singers..

But back to the train..the third member was a young lad by the name of Dmitiri, who spent the entire time I was there in a state of perpetual astonishment and incredulity about what I was doing (I hope I helped to burst a few of his preconceptions!). All of them agreed that this was highly unusual, and never before had they witnessed such a bizarre phenomonena s a foreigner on a train...especially not one a s crazy as me!

Inexplicably, the train stopped for 6 hours in the small town of Taiga, and Elena and Dmitiri invited me to come for a walk with them, which I did. We bought some beer and sat in the town square drinking it, me feeling like a proper russian, and then they conceived the idea that I should play something on the violin. So I dutifully took i out onto the railway bridge and played a few jigs, to the amusement of passers-by...At this point it was about 11 at night and we decided to go to a nearby outdoor cafe, where, wih russian pop music blaring, they ate kebabs, we drank some more beer, and we met some more young russians with whom i had a strange conversation (through my patient translator) about the relative merits of russian and british film, and thel all agreed it was the first time a foreigner had ever ever been seen in these parts. Ever.
I don't seem to have been able to make any russian friends over the age of 21, and I'm starting to feel a it old..they asked me who were the most popula bands in britain and I wasn't even sure! But hey, who says you can't be a teenager for ever? (-;

Back to the train, and we were at last on our way. The countryside after crossing the great Yenisey river began to get more interesting, comprising mostly of the beautiful taiga (forest, Yes, and also the name of the town), which at night was shrouded in strange swirly mists under the full moon.. Chekhov travelled this way in 1890, on his way to Sakhalin island, where he interviewed thousands of prisoners who were subject to appalling treatment, helping to eventually bring about the end of corporal punishment. It took him an incredible 2 1/2 months (and this was considered quick at the time!), of what must have been a very tough joureny, considering his poor health, to cross Siberia, along the Trakt (Great Siberian Post Road), by an impressively efficient sounding relay sytem of coaches (the American journalist George Kennan described it as 'the most perfectly organised horse express service in the world'). Here are his impressions of travelling through the taiga.

'The entire time I travelled through the taiga, birds were pouring out songs and insects were buzzing; pine needles warmed by the sun saturated the air with the thick fragrance of resin, the glades and edges of the forest were covered with delicate pale-blue, pink and yellow flowers, which caress not merely the sense of sight. The power and enchantment of the taiga lie not in titanic trees or the silence if the graveyard, but in the fact that only birds of passage knwo where it ends.'

Makes you feel as though you're missing out a little, looking through the window of a train. Maybe it's just not slow enough?

However, two days of inertia on a train (I don't know people manage 7 days!), where the furthest you can walk is to the toilet (or the occasional sations stop) was quite enough for me...we settled into a little routine of sleeping eating, and so on. Russians are known for their generous attitudes towards sharing what they have, and every meal turned into a kind of mass picnic where the son (they told me their names, which I of course forgot), thrust edible items at me at every opportinity, mainly pieces of white bread with endless varietes of sausage. I felt as though I'd been adopted. He also went to incredible lengths to try and communicate, reading through my phrasebook with much patience. He wanted to know answers to important questions like, did I have a car? and how much did I get paid? At one point, after much searching, he said, triumphantly, 'you - nice!' (or ni-ch,a she pronounced it). I was very touched. From some people such a phrases could be construed as lecherous, but from him it was like a kindly uncle. His father spent most of his time sleeping, reading from a large tome that, I discovered was a treatise on the origins of language, and separating small piles of medications into bits, an elaborate process that seemd to require the reading of lenghty handwritten instructions each time.

The younger man was a fisherman in Lake Baikal, which the train passed on the second day. This is, as you may well know, the world's deepest lake. It has a unique ecosytem - due to the miilions of tiny crustaceans (epishura) and the warm water vents, it has exceptionally clear and pure water, which is home to over 100 species of plants and animals, including the Baikal seal (nerpa), the world's only freshwater seal, and also the smallest), and unusual wading species and wildfowl, such as the white-winged black tern.

I sampled some of this wildlife, when, at a station stop on the edge of the lake, everybody poured out to buy freshly cooked fish from the traders on the platforms. As the train was evidently going to smell of fish for some time to come, I decided to join them. And it was quite tasty. It is always fun to see what you can buy at a station stop. There always drinks, biscuits and so on, but also sometimes old woman with pot of wild red berries, or indeterminite homemade square things in plastic bags which may turn out to be anything at all. Mostly I have been existing on trains on a diet, which, after some experimention, I have honed to rye crackers, honey biscuits and grapefruit juice. (Without the last I fear I would have contracted scurvy by now). With the occasional additions of such exciting things as a cucumber, a fish, a chocolate bar and so on. Most people seem to live on instant noodles, but at this i draw the line..I have heard rumours of such an exotic thing as a restaurant car, but never actually found one..

Given the wonder of lake Baikal, it seems crazy in a way that I didn't stop there, but due to diminishing time on my russian visa and that it takes a while to actually get to the lake from the main town of Irkutsk, (and, of course, that that's where everybody else stops..) I decided against it. The trainline runs right along the southern shore of the lake, giving a fine view of its vast, dark cloud -topped waters backed by forested mountains. However, I was little sorry not to be able to visit, in Irkutsk, the museum of the house of the Volkonsky family (or rather, of Maria Volkonsky: Sergei lived in a shed in the garden.)

Let me tell you the fascinating tale of the Volkonsys and their Siberian legacy

The Volkonskys, one of Russia's oldest noble families were descended from a 14th century prince, who was made a saint for his part in Moscow's war of liberation against the Mongol hordes. In a long line of military commanders and governors, both Sergei and his father Grigory continued this tradition. Grigory Volkonsky was made the governor of Orenburg (in the Ural mountains) from 1803 - 1816. He was notorious for his harsh treatment of uprisings but also had a deep love of the people and land that he governed. He travelled all through central Asia becoming an expert on Turkic culture, history, language and wildlife. He was also something of an eccentric, perhaps due to a shrapnel wound in his head, he was known to walk around at - 30 degrees in his dressing gown, handing out food and money to the oor, and to go naked to church to pray! It seems it felt utterly at home in Siberia, refusing to return to St Petersburg 'I love this nomadic way of life' he wrote, 'the quiet life of the Asian steppe suits my temperament.'

No wonder then that his son was also a unique and wonderful character. Let's go to 1825. Sergei by now having become disillusioned with aristocratic attitudes, was one of the leading Decembrists, the group who plotted to overthrow the government, but were brutally suppressed. They had been affected deeply by fighting alongside ordinary citizens in the war of 1812: Figes explains

'Nothing in the background of these officers had prepared them for the shock of this discovery [that the serfs were 'ready to defend their motherland with scythes' whilst the aristocrats 'ran off to their estates' (Glinka)]. As noblemen they had been brough up to regard their fathers' serfs as little more than human beasts devoid of higher virtues and sensibilities.'

This shared feeling created a strong bond between the renegade officers, a 'cult of brotherhood' that
'evolved into the cult of the collective which would become so important in the political life of the Russian intelligentsia.' (Figes). Volkonsky, was a serious young man, who, having attained brilliance in battle, pursued Napoleon as far as Paris, where, it seems, he was further influenced:
'His brief encounter with the West..confirmed his conviction in the personal dignity of every human being - an essential credo of the Decembrists which lay at the foundation of their opposition to the autocratic system and serfdom.'
However, this sentiment was combined, as with otehr Decembrists, with a move towards abandoning foreign influences (incredible as it may seem, the aristocracy at that time spoke almost entirely in French, and the Russian language as yet lacked much of its vocabulary), towards more 'Russian' pleasures, such as lunches of cabbage soup and rye bread..

Despite such noble intentions, as history tells us, the Decembrists failed in their insurrection, and the conspirators were either put to death or sent to Siberia. This was an absolute exile: Irkutsk marked the point of the borders the penal region of Siberia, beyond which all rights as a russian citizen were removed, as discovered by the wives who loyally followed their husbands east. Thwy were also disowned and rejected by their families, who were too afraid of angering the tsar and aware of their own shame in the small circle of Petersburg society to have any sympathy.
It is hard to imagine what an awful journey it must have been. It took the prisoners three months of walking, down the highway known as Vladimirka, to the prison colony of Nerchinsk, on the Russian- Chinese border.

Pushkin, who may have been in love with Maria, and supported (passively) the Decembrist cause, wrote these sorrowful and inspiring words. (my russian friend marsha disliked Pushkin, calling him what we would call 'chocolate-box', and I'm inclined to agree but he was an apt social commentator and the first 'nobleman' to abandon public service to make art his profession.). with apologies to him for omitted verse.

'In deep Siberian mines retain
A proud and patient resignation
Your grevious toil is not in vain
Not yet your thoughts' high aspiration

When love and friendship reaching through
Will penetrate the bars of anguish
The convict warrens where you languish,
As my free voice now reaches you

Each hateful manacle and chain
Will fall; your dungeons break asunder;
Outside waits freedom joyous wonder
As comrades give you swords again.'

Once there, life was not much better, condemned as they were to an existence of imprisonment and hard labour. However, despite this, and after gaining a measure of freedom, they created their own community, and learnt to cope with an entirely new way of life.

'Siberia brought the exiles together. It showed them how to live truly by the principles of communality and self-sufficiency which they ahd so admired in the peasantry. In Chita, where they moved in 1828, the dozen prisoners and their families formed themselves into an artel, a collective team of labourers, and divided up the tasks between themselves...Volkonsky was the gardener-in-chief'

'Like all Decembrist exiles, Volkonsky saw Siberia as a land of democratic hope. Here, it seemed to them, was a young and childlike Russia, primordial and raw, rich in natural resources. It was a frontier land (an 'America')whose pioneering farmers were not crushed by serfdom or the state, so taht they had retained an independent spirit and resourcefulness, a natural sense of justice and equality, from which the old Russia might renew itself.'

(Figes)

Some, like Maria, became immersed in the building of a new society, setting up schools, a hospital, a theatre. Sergei, named the 'peasant prince' on the other hand, had no interest in society, preferring to spend his time working on the land - Figes says that

'He dressed like a peasant, grew his beard. rarely washed, and began to spend most of his time working in the fields or talking with peasants in the local market town.', and the writer Belogovsky comments on how normal it was
'to see the prince on market days sitting on the seat of a peasant cart piled high with flour bags and engaged in lively conversation with a crowd of peasants whilst they shared a grey bread roll.'

Unurprsingly, marital relations were rather strained! Volkonsky became an expert on agriculture, importing seed and textbooks, and spread his knowledge to the peasants, who came to him from miles around for advice. He had an extraordinary ability to enter the world of those people he once viewed as serfs. They seemed to have a genuine respect for him, calling him 'our prince.'

This quest was shared by many, though none as successfully as Volkonsky, for example, Tolstoy, a distant cousin of Volkonsky. His most famous book, war and peace was inspired his relative's story. His life was a constant struggle for this kind of authenticity, much of it 'playing' at being a peasant (and seducing the women), but in later years he found his own mystical-religious path that praeched equality, and gained a substantial folowing of his own. Figes explains:
'This very 'Russian' quest for a 'Life of Truth' was more profound than the romantic search for a 'spontaneous' or 'organic' existence which motivated cultural movements elsewher in Europe. At its heart was a religious vision of the 'Russian soul' that encouraged national prophets to worship at the altar of the peasantry.'

So there we are again..the Russian Soul. reminds me of that episode of Northern Exposure where they all become very dark suddenly, and drink vodka and sing mournful russian songs..

Um..where was I. Oh yes. So, after two days and suffering from slight cabin fever, I bid farewell to my bizarre little travelling family, supplemented at time by various chinese guys who occupied the top bunk and spent most of their time sleeping or shouting at each other in chinese (probably just commenting on the weather..). I was a little sad to leave them, but I couldn't take much more nodding and smiling, i was starting to feel like a performing monkey. Must learn Russian next time..And disembarked to Ulan-Ude, where I am staying in a vast, cavernous youth hostel, though I haven't spotted any otehr guests yet..It promises to be an intriguing place. It also is home to - not just the usual statue - but the world's biggest Lenin head. Really, it makes me want to get out a spray can..

This will be my last post from Russia (I hope, unless I'm languishing is some russian jail for overlooked visa regulations or something). I've spent 2 1/2 weeks here, and although I've had many interesting experiences and met some wonderful people, I still don't feel like I have much idea what 'Russia' is all about. How can you define such vast place? In a way, the most intriguing russia i've found j\ahd been in the world of the imagination, and I'm happy to have learnt a little about Russian history and culture, about which I was largely ignorant. It's also left me with a real desire to read more russian literature. It's a question, I suppose, how much you should absorb yourself in learning about a place, as opposed to simply experiencing it. I think this depends on how long and how deeply you intend to immerse yourself in a place: passing through on the surface as I have, I think this is the only way you can really get a sense of it - living somewhere is totally different- more immediate.

But I'm happy to be leaving (and excited about mongolia). Here in Ulan Ude, on the cusp of russia and mongolia, everybody smiles. It's very nice. And no more russian train tickets to buy! woo hoo!

Oh, and, special offer, one battered annotated copy of 'A cultural history of Russia', free to a good home.
Pick up from Ulan-Ude.

Good day,

(Before I continue, here is a small tale to amuse you. I just spent 4 hours in an internet cafe writng the majority of this post. The whole thing then suddenly disappeared before my eyes, despite having saved it many times. Despite desperate searching, it was nowhere to be found. Resisting the urge to stand up and yell expletives, I stormed out of the cafe, angrily consumed some coffee and cake, and tried to imagine myself as a persecuted author, a lifetime's work in manuscripts destroyed by vengeful forces of Stalin, preparing to begin again in some blackened attic lit by half a candle-wick. As it turns out, this is not far from where I am now - shoving some smoking teenagers out of the way of the entrance, I entered what can only be described as a dark cavern (inexpicably there are no lights), and, preparing to begin the long process all over again, i logged on to discover - oh joy! oh, jubilant day, halloo-halay and all that, there it all was, saved after all. Bloody computers! Which makes me realise how much it matters to me to record. In fact, i'd say it was verging on compulsive..

So...

I'm in Tomsk, the self-styled 'Oxford of Siberia', a pleasant green and leafy university town. You'll notice, should you decide to peruse a map, that none of the places I've stopped at are actually on the trans-siberian railway itself. That would be far too easy...Suzdal, which I've told you about already, is a little way north of Vladmir, which itself is 190km from Moscow. Getting to Sudzal and back then involves a small bus, which I took with the help with the help of the aformentioned old ladies and some friendly bikers (there were a lot of these around, to balance the chintziness out i suppose). "Don't worry be happy' he said, obviously the only english phrase he knew. But good advice!

Monday was one of those perfect travelling days where each part rolls nicely into the next, without much fuss, but full of interesting and unexpected happenings..I wandered out of the hostel in a lesiurely manner, feeling happy and well slept (it's amazing how much difference this make to your mood!), just meeting the bus as it arrived, and landing in Vladmir in time for lunch. There is a very efficient left-luggage system in place at Russian train stations, which makes it easy, if you have a few hours to kill, to dump your stuff and have a wander.

Actually, many things about the russian train system are remarkably efficient, if you can just work them out. (Ah, the wonders of a state run - ie. non-privatised train netowrk!) For example, all the trains run run pretty much exactly on time. This is because the train managers get a bonus for not being late. And they create very generous schedule, which may involve lengthy stops for no apparent reason. And at the stations, there's none of this measly panicky 30 seconds to grab your stuff from an overcrowded luggage rack and fling yourself out aaaaaghh thing. You get a nice 15-20 minutes to stretch your legs, buy refreshments / gaze at scenery/ chainsmoke, depending on preference. Once inside the train, you are allotted your own bunk. This may be either the top or the bottom, both of which have advantages and disadvantages, The bottom converts into a seat/ table by day; personally I prefer the top: although it's a bit cramped and even getting up there involves the athleticism of an olympic gymnast (not to mention getting your rucksack onto the rack above!), it's your own little space that you can hang out in and you get to sit on the bottom during the day - so you effectively have 1 1/2 places! I've recently taken to travelling Platskartney (3rd class) whenever possible. This, apart from being gratifyingly cheaper, has several merits: It's in an open carriage, a bit like a giant dormitory, so you have loads more people to observe, interact with etc - and it lessons the chance of being stuck in a cramped 4 berth compartment with 3 smelly drunk snoring russian men - something that hasn't happened yet but i have a deep dread of! It's a bit like a blind date, every time you go into a compartment, wondering who your travelmates will be..

You are given a sort of standard issue-starched set of sheets, although i revel in my lovely blue silk liner, that i may sleep in forever from now on, by the Provodnitsa, or carriage attendant, who patrols the carriage with an eagle eye, and fulfils every role from ticket collection to providing hot water to cleaning the toilets. These are usually women, with universally terrifying hairstyles (it seems to be the fashion to use as may different coloured dyes as possible) and equally scary eyebrows...think cruella de ville..although they are sometimes men. Its seems laughable that anyone could succeed in stealing anything with these formidable creature around, you're far more likely to get your rucksack nicked off the oxford - london train, methinks..

So..Vladmir, I, determined to brave the horrors of a russian menu (which take about half an hour wiht a dictionary to work out) headed to a cafe for lunch. On the only occupied table next to me, sat a somewhat large russian woman, eating potato and mince, alone. She had a hardly-drunk bottle of red wine in front of her. She called me over and insisted I sit with her. I had a nasty feeling I knew what was coming next...to be honest i really didnt fancy half a bottle of bad wine in the middle of the day, but what to do? She couldn't speak any english, but didnt seem that bothered. This was my first encounter with Russian drinking etiquette. It's complicated. It seemed that what was required was that she pour me a glass: we said cheers (in russian of course) and then, without putting my glass down, I had to down it before she would drink heres. And she would pour me another and so on. After 3 glasses, I decided enough was enough, and at risk of causing offence, refused politely to drink any more. Ignoring my pleas, she poured me another, which i was forced to leave undrunk on the table, and staggered happily up the hill to see the beautiful Annunciation Cathedral, congratulating myself on being a girl who could hold her drink...

There was something a bit sad though about her lonely drinking...People do really drink a lot here, though it's almost always a social thing..In the evening, everybody has a bottle of beer in their hand as they walk around. It's just what you do. Interestingly though, despite its reputation as russia's 'drink' , drinking vodka seems to be kind of frowned upon. When i asked the Siberian art students if they liked it, they looked a bit shocked and told me it was very bad...it may be something to do with the amount of dodgy stuff around - an extraordinary number of Russians die every year from drinking 'bad' vodka. However, although drinking (and eating) had always been done to excess as celebration - 'it was the test of a 'true Russian' to be able to drink vodka by the bucketful' (Figes), traditionally, the orthodox calendar had an amazing 200 fasting days in which drinking alcohol was prohibited. Figes suggests that this 'frequent alternation ..perhaps bore some relationship to the people's character and history: long bouts of humility and patience interspersed with bouts of joyous freedom and violent release.' it also used to be a lot harder/ more expensive to get hold of alcohol, until the 1775 reform of local government which transferred power from the police to gentry magistrates, allowing business to boom, whether legally or illegally. So drinking that had been set in a pattern of scarcity (ie,. drinking to excess whenever possible) carried on. At the beginning of the 20th century, vodka was actually banned, but this led to many deaths due to the manufacture of illegal moonshines...and the loss of tax revenue (the state got at least a quather of its total revenues this way) was a factor in the downfall of the the regime in 1917. What is the lesson in this? I'm not quite sure...

So...The next train took me to Nizhny Novgorod, where I psent another couple of hours in the gorgeous evening sunshine (not that I'm trying to rub it in or anything, you poor soaked british souls) looking out across the might Volga river which cuts the town in two. Nizhny, or Gorky as it was renamed in Soviet times after the playwright, is famnous for being home of said writer, and also the place where the physicist Sakharov was exiled. He was involved in developing the Soviet Union's first hydrogen bomb, but later bacame opoposed to the regime, for which he was persecuted - in 1975 he was awarded the Nobel peace prize, but was too frightened to collect it. Back to Gorky - he's a fascinating figure. After fleeing to Italy, in 1921, he couldn't stand the life of an exile, and disillsuioned with the increasing power of the fascists, he was tempted back in 1931, convincing himself that things would be better. Hailed as the 'model' of Soviet literature, and with 'impeccably proletarian roots', he was showered with accolades, but sat in some sort of uneasy halfway house where he tried to use his influence to help writers under persecution. Any more insights welcomed..

This is quite common, that the names of towns have been changed during soviet times, and although officially changed back, they remain the same on train timetables...So there you are, clutching your hard-won ticket, having struggled to decipher the russian lettering, discover that instead of 'Yekaterinburg' as you had expected, it says 'Sverdlovsk'. After a small panic, you realise, they are in fact, the same thing, one being the soviet - era name. The other confusing thing about travelling by train in Russia (as if there weren't enough!) is the times. Russia has no less than 11 time zones (yes, it's really, really big), which means that, in order for everyone to know what's going on, all trains run to Moscow time. So when looking at your ticket, you must work out the difference between local time and moscow time for your departure and arrival towns...which becomes complicated when you are trying to ascertain at what time in which time zone the left-luggage office closes. To an attendant who doesn't speak any english. If there is one thing I would say to anybody wanting to travel in Russia, it's this: Speak Russian It really will make your life much easier. For example, you can book train tickets online, thus saving all the hassle of not being understood at the ticket office, but only if you can understand the russian website. How ironic. You could of course do it through a tourist agency. but a prefer my commission-free queuing. It would feel a bit like cheating otherwise. I also like the aspect of chance...will they have tickets ort will i be stuch here forever until my visa runs out abd i am thrown in jail by the russian police. Dn't get me wrong, I'm not existing in a state of permanent chilled-ness, but i also sort of enjoy the anxiety...

The othere thing about speaking the language, which I do think is essential if you spent any proper length of time somewhere, is that of course you get much more insight into somewhere through actually being able to have proper conversations. You start to long for them I met my first english-speaking foreigner for a week this morning and i alsmost fell over my tongue so eager was I to talk. Howveer i beleive it's good for everybody british, the lazy language capitalists of the world, to experience being misunderstood. Then you know how everybody else feels.

However this wasn't a problem on monday evening (still on monday! must hurry this along a little!) in my night train, as it turned out the daughter of the family in the bunks next to me, a glamorous 16 year old called angela, spoke perfect english with an american accent. She helped with with those awkward questions i hadn't quite worked out the answer to (like, how so you turn the tap on in the toilet, exactly? The answer, should you ever find yourself in this situation, is that you have to push it up from underneath. It's really not very obvious..), got her uncle to make my bed for me, and acting as a translator for her mother, who wanted to know about the type of teaching given to children with learning difficulties in britain. It was all quite bizarre at 11pm..

The next morning I landed up in Kazan. (This is an alternate route for the first part of the trans-siberian, going further south), and after the ticket-buying debacle described in my last blog, was escorted to my hotel by a kindly girl who worked in tourism, who ahad observed my ticket-buying woes.. Yes, a hotel! with my own little room with - get this- no other people in it! And for the same price as a dingy overcrowded hostel bed (for your information, should you plan anything similar, my accomodation costs have remained fairly constant at 10-12 pounds a night. This is really the cheapest you can get. I anticipate a price drop soon though, at least i hope so as the old roubles are dribbling away..). I merrily threw my rucksack contents all over the room and went out to explore.

Kazan is the capital of Tatarstan. I'm still a little confused about its political status- from what I understand, it became the capital of the Tatar autonomous republic in soviet times, and in 1990 declared autonomy from Russia, though is unlikely to gain independence as nearly half the population is Russian. Tatarstan was the the home of the Tatars - that nomadic tribe that paticularly revelled in the general wreaking of havoc. Being there feels in some ways more like central asia than russia: faces are darker colours, hair is straighter and blacker, brows are flatter. There are spires of mosques and women in veils. St. Basil's cathedral in Moscow was built to celebrate the capture of Kazan in 1552 (which, by the way, is brilliant. you have to see it, if you can. It's completely ridiculous in an utterly wonderful way), which must have been quite a feat. Kazan occupies an excellent tactical position..flanked by two broad rivers, the Kazanka and the Volga, which give it a port-like atmosphere (there is even a beach), the white-stone kremlin is high above them, and you imagine standing looking out as the hordes of Ivan the Terrible advanced.. Inside the kremlin there is both an Annunciation Cathedral, in the style of the one in the Moscow kremlin, and a stunning bright blue-roofed mosque, which was built relatively recently, in the place of the one destroyed by those hordes. I guess this is reflective of the city's dual identities..

Russia and Asia have a historically ambivalent relationship. Figes tells us helpfully that

'Culturally, there was a deep ambivalence, so that in addition to the usual Western stance of superiority towards the 'Orient', there was an extraordinary fascination and even in some wasy an affinity with it. [which apparently makes it an exception to Edward Said's theories of orientalism. Comments?? you know who you are!] Much of this was a natural consequence of living on the edge of the Asian steppe, torn between the counter-pulls of East and West. Thsi ambiguous geography was a source of profound insecurity..The Russians might define themselves as Europeans in relation to Asia, but they were 'Asiatics' in relation to the West.'

It must be confusing, being in two continents at once. If you'd asked me before this trip, where the border was, I wouldn't have had a clue. I can now tell you it's exactly 1794km west of moscow. I passed it a couple of days ago, all it's not until 2102km that Siberia officially begins. Apparently, there is a marker, but I didn't see anything. How odd that so much fuss is made about invented political borders between countries, whilst you can pass over a geological clash of continents without a murmur.

Russian society has gone through phases in its feeling towards Asia. In the eighteenth century, it was frowned upon. Figes describes it like this:

'In its defining myth, Russia had evolved as a Christian civilisation. Its culture was a product of the combined influence of Scandinavia and Byzantium. The national epic, which the Russians liekd to tell themselves, was the story of a struggle by the agriculturalists of the northern forest lands against the horsemen of the Asiatic steppe - the Avars and Khazars, Polovtsians and Mongols, Kazakhs, Kalymyks and all the other bow-and-arrow tribes that had raided Russia from the earliest times. This national myth had become so fundamental to the Russians' European self-idenity that even to suggest an Asiatic influence on Russia's culture was to invite charges of treason.'

In the war against the east, (which was seen as a religious war - as shown linguistically by, for example, the old word for foreigner, 'inoverets', which suggests a foreign religious faith, and the words for peasant (krestianin) and Christian (khristianin) are very similar.. If you think about the word 'Tatar' it's been used - in the west as well - to suggest someone or soemthing horrible, barbarous. It feels almost as though to call somebody one would be an insult. In fact, in the eighteenth century, in order to create a clear cultural divide between this perceived 'west' and 'east', any non-christian group - muslims, buddhist, shamanic or whatever - were lumped together under this one term - and what's more, it was deliberately mislpelt - Tartar -to make it like the greek word for hell (Tartarus). Russian atlases renamed 'Sibir' (Siberia) as the 'great Tatary).

Pushkin was one of the first to challenge this definition. In 1836, he wrote -

'It was Russia who contained this vast conquest within her vast expanses. The Tatars did not dare cross our western frontiers and so leave us in the rear..To this end, we were obliged to lead a completely separate existence which, while it left us Christians, almost made us complete strangers to the Christian world..The Tatar invasion is a sad and impressie history..Do you not discern something imposing in the situation of Russia, something that will strike the future historian? Do you think he will put us outside Europe?'

This 'sad and impressive history' Pushkin writes of, the 250 year occupation by the "Golden Horde' of Genghis Khan (or Chingiis Khan as he is correctly known - more about him later!) was a source of much shame for Russians. In reality, of course, the Mongols, though violent, were not the destructive barabarians who plunged the country into a 'dark age' , the role popularly ascribed to them - they had organizational systems in advance of the russians' own, Figes explains:

'The Mongols had sophisticated systems of administration and taxation, from which the Russian state would develop its own structures, and this is reflected in the Tatar origins of many words like dengi (money), tamozhna (customs) and kazna (treasury). Archeological excavations..showed that the Mongols had the capacity to develop large urban settlements with palaces and schools, well laid-out streets and hydraulic systems, craft workshops, and farms.'

Napoleon apparently once said 'Scratch a Russian and you will find a Tartar' (always good to be informed about the countries you're attempting to invade), and it is true that a lot of russians had mongol blood. This was especially apparent in the aristocracy - descendants of the 'golden horde' made up an important portion of the Moscow court, and at least two tsars were descended from them. You could say the behaviour of the Tsars was based upon that of the Khans
'they justified their new imperial status not just on the basis of their spiritual descent from Byzantium but also on the basis of their territorial inheritance from Genghis Khan' (Figes).
In fact, much of the 'invasion' was based upon the collaboration of the Russian princes with the khans. The food, clothing, symbols etc of Russia - in all of these you could find an asiatic root. The critic Stasov caused a storm of controversy, when, along with many other things, he claimed that the byliny, epic songs containing russia's folk tales and myths, were in fact derived from the Eastern (Hindu / Sanskrit / Buddhist) myths brought west by immigrants, merchants and soldiers from India, Mongolia and Persia. He poointed out that -

'If the byliny really did grow out of our native soil in ancient times, then, however much were later altered ..we should read in them about our Russian winters, our snow and frozen lakes..our Russian fields and meadows..our peasant huts..about our Russian hearth and the spiritual beliefs that surround it..about our belief in mermais, goblins, house spirits and various other superstitions of pagan Rus'..and what we see instead is the arid Asian steppe.'

Whether or not he was right, he was massively criticized for what was seen as an attack on the essence of Russian-ness. Kadinsky, in his studies of the Komi people, arrived at similar conclusions, which inspired a lot of his painting.
In the nineteenth century, howver, Asia becam e fashionable again to the point, Figes says , that 'many pure-bred Russian families invented legendary Tartar ancestors to make themselves appear more exotic' ! Dostoevsky was all for this idea - in 1881 he wrote

'We must cast aside our servile fear that Europe will call us Asiatic barbarians and say that we are more Asian than European..this mistaken view of ourselves..has cost us dearly,,and we have paid for it by the loss of of our spiritual independence..In Europe we were Tatars. whilst in Asia we can be Europeans.' It seems odd that he should seek to define the country through an identity other to what it was 'in', but do we not all do the same, to some extent? Travelling, in my experience, forces one into a much tighter niche than usual; the more 'foreign' the place, the more 'British' you appear by contrast. It can be fun, but also annoying - sometimes it would be be nice to slide into a sort of jellylike nationality-free form without being defined by 'foreigness'.

In the early 20th century, the 'Scythian poets' embraced this wild, passionate side of Russia - believing that the revolution would sweep away the old, 'dead', Europeanness; in Blok's famous poem, The Scythians', (1918), he wrote

'Yes, Russia is a Sphinx. Exulting, grieving,
And sweating blood, she cannot sate
Her eyes that gaze and gaze and gaze
At you with stone-lipped love and hate.'

A little later, the group of emigres known as the 'Eurasianists', with Stravinsky at their centre, feeling betrayed by both soviet Russia and the failure of the West to combat the Bolsheviks, viewed the future of Russia as being in Asia, a 'unique ('Turanian') culture on the Asian steppe.', in which they foresaw a future in which the power of the west would be detroyed to be replaced by that of the East. Based on some fairly tenuous/ doubtful ethnographic evidence, it nevertheless provided artistic inspiration for the exiled russians, and maybe they were onto something..just look at china..india,,etc now!

So, where was I..oh yes, anyway, whatever its historical significance, I liked Kazan a lot, it felt energetic, vibrant and young; lots of loud music and bright colours, even a whole wired-up band playing open-air in the main street one evening. Next was my longest journey yet, two trains over 2 1/2 days at the spectacularly inconvenient times of: 1. 2.15am, arriving ther next evening, 2. 2.30 am - but- and here's the catch - 2.30 moscow time, which meant 4.30am local time. So there I was, in Yekatinerinburg on a summer's eve with 8 hours to kill. What's a girl to do?

Yekaterinburg has an interesting history - mostly violent - I walked past the spot where Tsar Nicholas II and his family were murdered in 1918 (now with the aptly entitled 'Church of the Blood' erected int ehri honour with apparently the world's most expensive icon). it's also known for the Mafia, who kiled a lot of people in the early 1990s (not something to think about too hard when walking alone at night), and Boris Yeltsin, a graduate of the university.

But what to do? The first step was obviously to imbibe plenty of caffeine, as i would have to be alert and awake until, well, nearly tomorrow. And then - of course- I went to see the late-night showing of Harry Potter (or 'Gary Potter', as it is pronounced in Russian!). It was dubbed into Russian, of course, but hey, I know the story anyway. (if you are are a reader of my earlier tales you'll know that harry potter and I have a certain synchronsity - during my trip to Ladakh i ended up reading the new edition in installments as a bedtime story to assorted Europeans, in my role as representative Brit! Anyway, I love it and I don't care, i've quoted you Dostoevsky, let's have some balance! What I want to know is, who's going to send me the new book to China??!). So that was fun, although buying a ticket posed certain problems - on enquiring about buying a ticket, i was told 'nyet'. I couldnt believe they'd all sold out at 11.45pm, so persevered- I've made a significant discovery that, if somebody doesn't understand what you want, they'll just keep saying 'no' (whilst frowning). The trick is to keep asking, annoyingly, until you are understood! It's the same with buying tickets..checking into hotels, whatever. As it turned out, there were exactly 6 people, including me at the show that night..
I also managed to walk back to the train station in the dark, without getting lost. (A big achievement for me. I have no sense of direction. As you may well know). I was so elated at my own efficiency and awakeness that I had a beer to celebrate, and immediately felt very sleepy... eventually crawling gratefully into my bunk as dawn was breaking. The sunrise was very beautiful,

About the train journey itself- well, to be honest, there's not much to tell. Actually, it was kind of boring, though I love sleeping on trains anyway (a sentiment obviously shared. I would say that at any one time, at least half the population of the train was snoozing. At other time after all can you be so enjoyabIy and justifiably indolent?) I was surrounded by young families and old ladies, who were very interested in their routines of eating, sleeping, putting on makeup (this is what women on trains seem to spend half their time doing, It's bizarre..And doing puzzle books, for hours. I can't understand it. Men on the other hand let it all hang out..quite literally in the case of large beer bellies. They all seem to wear as little as possible, which may be a good or a bad thing depending on age, looks, beer-bellied-ness etc ! Otherwise, bad tracksuits and moutstaches are apparently requisite) and so on. But not in talking to me, which was fair enough as i couldn't exactly talk to them! Anyway, there were no wild vodka-drinking parties (Or if there were I wasn't invited). And the landscape was a bit dull- endless deciduous forest and arable fields interspersed with the occasional river for a bit of excitement.

Gorky described it thus: that the landscape had

'the poisonous peculiarity of emptying a man, of sucking dry his desires. The peasant has only to go out past the bounds of his village and look at the emptiness around him to feel it creeping into his very soul ..Round about lie endless plains and in the centre of them, insignificant, tiny man abandoned on this dull earth for penal labour.'

There is a great word in Russian used to describe the kind of inertia brought on by this monotonous landscape - 'Oblomovshcshina' (try saying that 10 times before breakfast, it'll wake you up!) - from a story by Gonorachov, an apathy described as the scourge of Russia by Lenin. Chekhov travelled this route in 1890, and he commented of this stretch 'You'll be bored from the Urals to the Yenisey'. But more from him later, Also the story of the Volkonskys, surely one of the most interesting of siberia. and the rxraordinary history of the railway, and some wildlife.

But for now, goodbye, they're throwing me out..again!

Zdrastvuytee, and a very dobre ootra to you,

Wow, more than a week's worth of journeying reflections to relate to you! I fear I may be in this post office for some time...I have reading a truly marvellous book by the professor Orlando Figes (surely one of the cleverest people of all time), entitled 'Natasha's Dance - A Cultural History of Russia'(I highly reccommend it as a brilliant read whether or not you're travelling across Russia), from which I intend to borrow shamelesly for the purpose of this blog.

(Written a few days ago in Moscow..)
I write to you today from a small overpriced internet cafe in Kazanky station, Moscow. i actually got to the station several hours ago, in the mistaken belief i would somehow be able to negotiate metro, ticket queues and trains to whizz away on an early train around 7am or so. In reality, what happened,inevitably, was that i wandered around the depths of the metro for sometime desperately waving my phrase book at entirely unsympathetic strangers pointing to the russian for 'ticket office' (i've given up trying to pronounce things..), eventually surfacing to be told there was no train until 12.45, and besides, I had to go to another station...Though I must add that the moscow metro is excellent, efficient, unpacked, cheap, and some of the stations are practically works of art. And it only costs 30p. (Some more comparisons: Berlin, 1.50, Kiev, 5p!!, London, 4.00, overcrowded and horrible. It makes you wonder...) There are also some great buskers. One station had an entire string section playing brahms. But I digress.

So, Kiev....wow, wow, I love the feeling of having arrived somewhere with no expectations, no handy 'lonely planet' suggestions or really having any idea about it at all, but being completely overwhelmed..It's a city of extraordinary loveliness and ugliness, stunningly beautiful gold-domed white churches that shine in the sunlight and concrete tower blocks, dirty streets and fashionable shops, a town of steep hills set within a forest, so that when you look from above there are gleaming steeples rising out of swathes of green..I was there for just 30 hours or so, and spent most of the time walking about in a a kind of sun-induced daze (it was incredibly hot). It felt like a big switch from Poland - just arriving at the metro entrance to confront crowds of bodies and traders packed tightly together and signs everywhere in this mysterious alphabet (which I'm starting to get the hang of now..I find the problem is that you can easily start to persuade yourself that signs are saying what you want them to say, I think it must be a bit like seeing a mirage..), I had the feeling for the first time really that I was going East.

I like Ukrainians, the once I met anyway, who seem to be mostly kind and helpful, though nobody speaks english..I also ate in an amazing restaurant, a kind of ukrainian theme-park which i imagine to be a bit like an old-school soviet dining hall (but much nicer!), in which you fill your tray full of interesting-looking dishes (i was quite embarrassed by the number I'd collected at the end), for the bargain price of 2.50, and to my slight surprise, were all extremely nice.

But I'm afraid I can't tell you any interesting historical background information about Kiev, as it remains an intriguing mystery, and somewhere I'd like to explore more. And no, I didn't bump into any family members either! So then overnight 14 hours to Russia, in an extremely smart carriage this time in which I had my own compartment, complete with air conditioning, and the enjoyable experience of being woken up by border police at 1am in my sleeping bag, who were so determined to find something wrong with my passport that they went off with it for half an hour in order, i imagine, to scan in in ultraviolet, soak it it vinegar and test it for explosive devices just in case. I'm really starting to get the feeling that, well, they just don't want tourists very much here, Not only is getting a visa a nightmare, you then have to register it everywhere you go (which is expensive), and are liable to be stopped by police and any time and threatened with expulsion if you don't sort out some obscure paperwork or something. (Luckily I've managed to avoid them so far, but I've seen lots of tourists being stopped). It probably doesn't help that Britain and Russia are apparently locked in the worst 'diplomatic crisis' for some years - it's all really quite Bond...

Continued....

So...Moscow. I arrived smoothly at the hostel, situated in the famous Arbat district, home of avant-garde art, musicians, and radical poets, of whom the 'bard of Moscow', the poet Bulat Okudzhava wrote-

'Arbat, my Arbat, you are my calling
You are my happiness and my misfortune'

Now it is the home of tourist tack, aggressive leafletters and mediocre buskers, a far cry from those exciting days. the name of my abode to be was, ironically, the 'Home from Home hostel', and the day went something like this: arrive, am sent away until 1pm. Come back. Hostel manager (I never found out his name, but I like to imagine he is called Ivan) asks for booking looks confused. Mutters elusively. Wanders off. Talk to interesting russian woman who is an artist. 2pm. Still sitting at table, chat to some trans-siberian travellers. Ivan reappears, briefly. Mutters elusively. Wanders off. Feeling very tired now. 2.30pm. Fall asleep on table. 3pm. Am escorted to briefly vacant bunk in crowded room by kind person. 5pm. Wake up. Organise visa registration feeling dazed. Talk to hungarinas and dutch. Ivan mutters and wanders off, elusively. 6pm. Am eventually informed that there is not, in fact, a bed for me, and am to be taken to home of the owner, which turns out to be couch in living room of grand russian flat, with various other equally lost souls also suffering from the plight of overbooking. Feeling distinctly like a refugee...

In Russian history, Moscow has been perceived to be the cebtre of 'Russianness': Tolstoy wrote that every Russian felt Moscow to be a mother - it 'was a symbol of the old Russia, the place where ancient Russian custome were preserved.' (Figes). In contrast to the 'Europeanised ' Russia conceived of by Peter the Great and represented by St. Petersburg, Moscow was reconstructed in the fashionable 'folk style of the 19th century, following its near- destruction due to the invasion of Napoleon. The city's governor actually ordered the Krmelin to be set on fire before the city was evacuated in 1812: according to Segur,

'[Napoleon] fought his way through a wall of fire, to the crash of collapsing floors and ceilings, falling rafters and melting iron roofs. All the time, he expressed his outrage, and his admiration, at the Russian sacrifice. 'What a people! They are Scythians! What resoluteness! The barbarians!' '

Following in the new passion for all things Russian (the move away from the aristocratic habit of only speaking in French, for example). Figes writes-

'Classical facades were softened by the use of warm pastel colours, large round bulky forms and Russian ornament..More than ever, Moscow took on the appearance of a big village..Wood was declared by nationalists the 'fundamental folk material' and every architect who aspired to be 'national' constructed buildings in that material....The city's business region was suddenly taken over by ancient tent roofs and kokoshnik pediments, fancy yellow brickwork and ornate folk designs.' It was also seen as the meeting point of East and West -the poet Konstantin Batiushkov described the city as 'an amazing and incomprehensible confluence of superstition and magnificence, ignorance and enlightenment', full of the onion domes, bright colours and golden towers associated with the Byzantine style of architecture.

With St.Petersburg as the seat of administration until 1917, life in Moscow in the 19th century seemed to be devoted to enjoyment: there are some extraordinary stories of opulent partying and extravagant feasting: Count Rakhmananov, for example, apparently spent his entire inheritance (more than 8 million roubles) in a few years of high dining- he fed his poultry with truffles, and his crayfish were kept in cream and parmesan instead of water!' The St. Petersburger Nikolai Turgenev described Moscow as an 'abyss of hedonistic pleasure' and the contrast between the two places was eveidently marked: famously, St. Petersburg is is known as the 'head' of Russia, whilst Moscow is its 'heart': Gogol wrote:

'Petersburg is an accurate, punctual kind of person...before he gives a party, he will look into his accounts. Moscow is a Russian nobleman..he'll go all the way intil he drops, and he won't worry how much he's got in his pockets..Petersburg likes to tease Moscow for his awkwardness and lack of taste. Moscow reproaches Petersburg beacuse he doesn't know how to speak Russian...'

I would have loved to have seen St. Petersburg and discovered these contrasts for myself, bu alas, the time...Moscow, in a nutshell, became a place where it was considered possible to live in a way that was more 'Russian, inspiring artist and musicians such as Musorgsky, who pioneered the use of Russian folk music and melodies in his composing. The nobility constructed palaces that 'resembled small estates', full of the clutter and features of the provinces.

I had planned to go to see one of these green places for myself, that of the grand Sheremetev family (one of whom famously married a serf at a time at which it was taboo), but, unfortunately, I encountered in moscow the syndrome of Sightseeing Fatigue. This involves either a strange lethargy and general laziness about seeing Places of Interest, or habit of walking around more and more manically, getting generally lost, grumpy, and eventually unable to move due to aching calf muscles. Often both at once. After all this warm description, I felt a little disappointed to encouter high-rise concret and absurdly busy roads (crossing the road is, according to an expat magazine I read, by far the most dangerous thing you can do in Moscow. It involves either risking your life across ten lanes of drivers carefully staggered to ensure that at least one of them will have a good chance of getting you, or walking 2km to the nearest underpass which will, incomprehensibly, take you to the other side of the city). It is also full of very rude people. I can't really work out this whole 'Russian rudeness' thing. All I've managed to ascertain so far is that is definitely compulsory for women working in service industries. A typical exchange goes something like this:
Me- walks into cafe. Women talk to each other behind bar, busy themselves with tasks, generally do their best to ignore bedraggled foreigner. Eventually, reluctantly, am noticed. Murmurs, nervously, 'um..coffee?'. Silence. A pin drops. 'Nyet.' 'Um..nyet coffee?'. Silence. Icy stare. I turn around and flee. Buying tickets at stations is an equally heartening task. Generally, the pattern is as follows:
I write, laboriously in Russian, my planned departure, type of ticket wanted etc, generally at some strange hour of the night whilst on train. Arrive at station. Am hot and tired, with large bag. There are 17 different types of ticket counter. After queuing for half a lifetime at one, and thrusting my crumbled piece of paper at them, am sent to another window, who sends me to another, and so on. Eventually arrive at one where their may be a slim chance of actually purchasing something. This morning, for example, at 6.30 am, after some complex calculations, I was told 'Nyet Platskarney' (no 3rd class tickets avilable). On enquiring hopefully, 'Kupe?' I was told (and then she wrote down for me), after consulation of my dictionary, that I had to wait until 8am when the information window would be open. This is unusual. The general response to not speaking russian seems to be to shout at you very fast in russian. The best response is to nod and smile and hope that you have interpreted the hand gestures correctly. I love this - it doesnt seems to put people off at all. They'll chat/ grumble away at you qite happily even though you obviously don't understand a word they're saying. It's sort of inclusive.

This is the other side of the 'rude' thing (which can in some ways be fun- I'm really perfecting my scowl) - is that may Russians I've met (of the general public, note) have been incredibly nice and helpful. Old ladies are brilliant, the'll smile at you, jabber away in russian, guard your stuff and offer complex instructions about something you're trying to do through cackles. It's hard to go far without making a friend. Little acts of kindness make so much difference - just one example of many, on my final morning in moscow, whilst sitting, exhausted, in cafe, a piece of paper containing important stuff blew into the nearby flowerbed. A passing soldier (read, scary), climbed over and fetched it for me. I nearly wept. Really, it's an emotional rollercoaster! This is what i love about travelling alone. Whenever anybody sits themselves down next to me (I am pathetically grateful to anybody who can speak some english) and asks me, why? Why alone? I want to say, beacuse of this, because of us sitting here having this conversation, waiting for the same train, because for a minute we shared the same world. Because of the kindness of strangers.

Of course, there are always protective layers - of conditioning, culture, age, gender, preconceptions, etc etc (I was reading a novel by penelope lively recently in which the main character is a retired anthropologist. She cooments that she now realises that she would learn so much more as an old woman than a young one - as she is perceived as neutral. Sometimes I feel that way), and of course the knowledge of an 'escape route' that you can leave at any time - but at least there is not the filter of another person to colour things. Not that I don't enjoy travelling with others from time to time!! There is of course a danger in this that you could turn in to some kind of parody, in constant quest for new and more bizarre happenings for the sake of experiencing them, a kind of pathetic wannabe anthropologist. But at its root - and this is when it is wonderful - is a kind of childlike wonder, of not knowing what's about to happen, or really being in control of it, and to really delight in this. Which can turn into 'so why exactly did i think this would be a good idea???!' It's a fine balance! I also question myself whether I'd enjoy myself half as much if everyhting cost the same as britain. Not thta russia is particularly cheap- but, still there is a difference. There is a nasty tendancy of comparing places by how much they cost. (This is a part of 'backpacker culture' that makes me want to run away screaming!) But would i really think about india so nostalgically if I couldn't be in relative luxury? It makes one wonder how much I really, honestly, believe in economic equality..

It must have been these sorts of feelings that inspired, before twisted out of all recognition, the Russian Revolution. Figes says
'Popularly seen as a war against all privelege, the practical ideology of the Russian revolution owed less to Marx - whose works were hardly known by the semi-literate masses- than to the egalitarian customs and utopian yearnings of the peasantry. Long before it was written down by Marx, the Russian peoplehad lived by the idea that surplus wealth was, immoral, all property was theft, and that manual labour was the only true source of value.'

The poet Mayakovsky, whilst he was still a revolutionary darling, before he committed suicide (or was possibly murdered), after being deemed too individualist for the new soviet literature, expressed this yearning like this:

'Resurrect me -
I want to live my share!
Where love will not be - a servant
of marriages,
lust,
money.
Damning the bed,
arising from the couch
love will stride through the universe.'

Well, we all know what happened to that dream, and frankly, I'm already sick of Lenin. he's everywhere. Every main street seems to be named after him, not be mention endless statues, and in my state of apathy, i couldn't be bothered to go and see his mummy. Which is meant to be pretty amazing. Apparently there is some guy who has devoted his life to keeping him pickled, and is now selling his secrets for millions of dollars for those in search of eternal life. I also blame the soviets for my non-discovery of Cosy Moscow. As Figes explains, 'Stalin's Moscow was thus recast as an imperial city- a Soviet Petersburg..It became the Soviet capital, a city of modernity and the model of the new industrial society the Bolshevisks wanted to build. Interestingly, the Red Square was so name because the russian words for 'red' (krasnyi) and 'beautiful' (krasivyi)are almost the same.

So, to conclude with Moscow..on my second day I rebelled, and, after an inordinate amount of trouble changing travller's cheques (does nobody use them any more?), I spent the day, picnicking, arguing, and going to the ballet (ok, it was the cheap one next door to the Bolshoi, but it still felt all very pleasingly Russian) with my new Dutch friend. Which was very nice. We also hung around outside the cafe pushkin, being not grand enough to go in, and tried to find him a rich russian woman, but alas, they were all being swept away in stretch limos by the russian mafia.

So..onwards, to Suzdal, the capital of medieval Russia, impossibly picturesque with its golden spires and flower-drenched riverbanks. I was especialy happy to get into the Russian countryside, at last, having concocted the belief that this was where the true sprit of Russia could be found- there is an Russian tradition of turning to nature for solace, and many families still ahve a 'dacha' in the countryside. Figes says that

'What such young nations [as Russia] lacked in economic progress they could more than make up for in the spiritual virtues of the unspoilt countryside. Nationalists attributed a creative spontaneity and fraternity to the simple peasantantry that had long since been lost in the borgeouis West...In its oldest peasant form, the Russian religion was a religion of the soil.'

It's also very beautiful, green rolling hills and thick forests, fields of rye, little wooden houses. After Moscow this was balm to my soul and spent a happy couple of days wandering around, aided by the slightly alcoholic honey-mead brewed in the town. I especially enjoyed sitting in the orchard of the monastery under an apple tree. The monasteries were considered to be the purest form of contemplative mystical religion during the 19th century hunt for an authentic rusian faith, and this one was certainly very peaceful, although for tourists rather than actual monks. Everywhere in Sudzal is a bit like that. It's bizarre. I was there at the weekend and it was full of rich Muscovites getting married in the kremlin, the inevitable endless souvenir stands and a few toothless old men and women playing passionate russian tunes on accordions or violins, much to my delight.

Sudzal is surely the largest number of churches together in one place at any time of anywhere in the world..the lonely planet suggests there may be more churches than people, and they may not be far wrong. I'm really into all these onion-domes - literally, domes shaped like onions, I just can't get enough of them! In the constant link between religious, pagan, and rational beliefs that is said to be inherent in the Russian character (as demostrated by such great figures as Pushkin), the onion dome is also modelled on the sun. Figes says that
'The beauty of the church - the most striking feature of the Orthodox religion - was its fundamental argument as well.'
I like the story of how they decided what kind of a religion they wanted to have - in the 10th century or so, after shopping around other religions, it was in the churches of Constantinople, the Byzantium tradition, that the necessary sense of glory was found. In Russian orthodoxy, the experience of being in church is considered to be of primary importance - it is the whole atmosphere, the air of mysticism, that matters - Figes says that

'The Russian Church is contained entirely in its liturgy, and to understand it there is no point reading books: one has to go and see the Church at prayer. The Russian Orthodox service is an emotional experience. The entire spirit of the Russian people, and much of their best art and music, ahs been pored into the Church.'

The couple of times I've stumbled across a service taking place - usually early in the morning - it has been pretty incredible. The liturgy is entirely sung - a little like a gregorian chant (the orthodox ban on instrumental music meant a rich development of polyphonic harmonies)- and they have proper long candles burning everywhere, not like the tinny little nightlights we have. There are new pews: people walk in and out, prostrating and crossing themselves in front of icons. Icons (of which I have seen many beautiful depictions) are also deeply important - although I can't say they do very much for me, to the Russian orthodox, contemplating the icon is perceived as 'a gateway to the holy sphere, not a decoration or instruction for the poor, as sacred images became in Western Europe from medieval times' (a crucial difference). I really like some of the decorative art inside the churches however - in bright primary colours and symmetrical patterns, it is reminiscent of celtic or islamic patterning. There's also a liberal use of blue - a deep, sky-and sea-blue which is wonderfully evocative and soothing. This is what matters to me personally in religious places- the use of light and shade, colour and atmsophere, the overall impression rather than the individual details.

It interests me, that, whatever one's personal opinions, visiting religious monuments always is a large part of any journey. Russia, it seems, is especially difficult to separate from Christianity (apparently, traditionally, peasants would describe themselves as 'orthodox' before 'Russian', and this kind of passion can lead to some interesting results. I especially love the story of the Old Belivers, and have become obsessed with the idea of trying to spot one. At the time of the reforms to bring the church more into line with the greek orthodoxy, some of the rituals were changed. To the Old Belivers, this was heresey: paticularly contentious apparently was the number of fingers used to make the sign of the cross. At the end of the 17th century, they rose in rebellion, believing the reforms to be the work of the Antichrist, setting up their own remote communities where they refused to accept any form of progress, and even, in 1698, 20,000 are said to have shut themselves up in their wooden churches and burnt to death in mass suicides. They've also been long associated with any from of peasant revolt, and it is said that had it not been made illegal, huge numbers of people would have admitted their allegiance to this ancient faith.

I'll finish on religion with these thoughts from Dostoevsky, who suggests that

'This ceaseless longing, which has always been inherent in the Russian people, for a great universal church on earth, is the basis of our 'Russian socialism.'

And a last story from me- upon arriving in Sudzal, physically and emotionally exhausted from moscow and generally sleep deprived from Moscow, I arrived at the hotel i had apparently booked with the help of Ivan the Useless, to find that I, wasn't. To my shame, I burst into tears, and a cross looking russian girl forcibly escorted me to the hostel across the street which, although with mouldly showers and dodgy beds, was pleasingly cheaper. In my room was a girl from Kalingrad (that bit of russia that isn't actually attached), and after a converstion involving dictionaries, about to retire wearily to bed, there was a knock at the door, and two young russians filed sheepishly in. They were, it transpired, art students from Krasnoryack, Siberia, who had come to paint Sudzal. they could speak a little english, and insisted that i first come and see their pictures (which were very good), then drink some beer with them, and then wander around the town in the middle of the night. It was the first time they had spoken with a native english speaker and they were amusingly polite. They also went on and on about the siberian mafia (well, i doubt they'll be travelling 3rd class, anyway, so i should be all right!), and i think i disappointed them with my knowledge of gangster rap...

Finally...a poem written on a pleasant hillside in the evening sun, looking at Sudzal's magnificent kremlin. And then I think I shall then be thrown out of this post office, as I ahve been hogging the only computer for the last 4 hours..All comments/ disagreements (you know who you are) welcomed. Lets hear it from some of you communists out there!

Beyond the blue mirror
flower drenched defences
gold studded heads balance
on pale stalks

Inside, chiming voices clash
with insect wings
winds sings across
honey sweetened mouth

Words hang, ripened by sun
melded into long shadows
choral dissonanances of consonants
striking, mark time.