a city of old

well, back to blogging. a rainy day in Mongolia means you have to find lots of things to do!!! my thoughts on Beijing now that i've left it for the second time: well, it certainly was a better experience for me this time than last but i don't think i'll hurry back. its certainly cleaned up after the Olympics and the main difference is that people no longer spit everywhere. that common sound of 'hurrrrggghhh ppputtttttt' followed by a 'splat' on the ground is not one i'll miss. the most common impression to me was how the Chinese have swiftly adoped Western aspirations - wearing the same clothes, imitating our pop music and tv shows, wanting the same goods. its all there. of course they celebrate their own culture too but really its the Western lifestyle they want. and who can blame them - it suits us! still, i had a good few days wandering down local streets and smiling at the old ladies sitting outside fanning themselves, one tooth between 3 of them. then it was up early and heading down to the train station to pick up the first leg of the trans-siberian - whoaa! i was very excited. of course when i arrived it was just a big train and we've all seen one of them, but the feeling in the air was different and it did feel a bit special. i settled in quite well, wondering who my travel companion might be when a skinny Chinese guy came in. i was secretly relieved as it would give me the ideal excuse not to talk but just look out of the window at the changing landscape and read to my heart's content. of course this was too much to ask as just behind the Chinese guy huffed and puffed a big fat British guy complete with all the latest travel gear. he was twice my size and i knew he would snore. he did, and told me as much in the first 2 sentences we spoke to seach other. great. accepting my fate i enquired what he did and was told that he works at Sellafield and was responsible for disposing of the radioactive plutonium. just goes to show - you meet all kinds travelling! the train was full of other Westerners - Spanish, Dutch, Israeli. all with varying degrees of body odour and speed with which they raced towards the only restaurant on our section of the train. the carriages were all wooden, like an old Agatha Christie film, with even a hot boiler at the end of each compartment. but enough about her. food being a main interest on a long train ride, the restaurant car became a study in social norms. there was of course a queue but no respect as to the position you were in. you could arrive late and be served first. daggered looks became quite an art form. there were about 20 seats and double the number of people trying to get in them. and just 2 menus for the whole compartment. some people ate and left immediately allowing others to sit down, others just sat there ordering beer after beer whilst stomachs rumbled aound them. once i'd managed (after the 6th request) to steal a quick look at the all-treasured menu i found that, as sometimes happens, veggie options were limited. its a painful subject as i'm sure that those who know my love of food well will surely understand. lets just say that the veggie 'highlight' was cabbage and mushroms and even that was a poor description as there were no 'mushrooms' as such but just one in the singular and it tasted as if the chef had waved the mushroom at the dish from the other side of the room rather than introducing them and taking the opportunity to cook them together as would seem courteous. still, chew and gulp is what i say in these situations and so i did thanking god for the 3 bars of chocolate in my rucksack. heading back to my carriage i looked forward to opening 'War & Peace' and starting a nice prolonged and quiet readathon. this proved to be somewhat optimistic due to the horrendous rumbing of the train down the tracks which, when i got to my carriage, found was not the train but Mr Plutonium. Snoring.