Our last stop in the Chinese mainland was Yangshuo, famous for its limestone karsts (large stalagmite-like rocks to the non-geographers amongst you). In about 10 years, the backpackers will have moved on and the 4* resorts will have moved in. For now, although it's touristy, Yangshuo is picturesque enough to get away with it.

The highlight here was definitely going for a morning's cycle ride through the paddy fields, which was a little like stepping back in time – in my head, this is what more of China was going to be like. The combination of lush green fields overshadowed by towering karsts was quite breathtaking. We passed farmers tilling their fields with the aid of water buffalo, an old woman irrigating her crop by paddle and a mother who appeared to be carrying her child in a yoke and basket (!) on our way, all of whom happily posed for photos – for a fee. Yes, the Chinese taste for making a buck or two from tourists has even reached these parts, but the sums in question were so small (never more than 50p) that it's hard to deny them. We also stopped at a home-brewed rice wine factory, literally a cottage industry, with big vats of the stuff fermenting in a shed, right next to the pigsties. All the pigs are apparently fed swill mixed with the leftover ferment – they seemed very content with their lot in life, I must say, probably because they were half-cut!

We took a 'bamboo raft' ride up the River Li, though nowadays most of the boats, including ours, are powered by lawnmower engine and are made from PVC replicas of bamboo. Safety first! The views were again spectacular, and I felt much safer on the raft than I did on the wooden boats on the Yangzi! We had an enforced 'tourist stop' partway along the river, which James described, quite accurately I think, as a post-apocalyptic Western-Super-Mare. Locals peddled their rabbits carved from jade with scary red eyes, the ubiquitous small carved wooden ducks that seem to be a Yanshuoan specialty, and tofu cookies on sticks. So that was Christmas sorted.

Back in the town centre, we enjoyed an early morning t'ai chi lesson with Master Henry. T'ai chi and kung fu are actually apparently one and the same, just performed at different speeds. Although we only learned a couple of moves, we both really enjoyed it – James even bought Henry's DVD for future practice. As yet, we haven't managed any, but we live in hope. Henry also trains students to become t'ai chi teachers over several years, studying for 6 months at a time up in the mountains. If anyone's looking for a bit of escapism from the rat race, this could be it.

China is also apparently famous for massage, so we took advantage and had an hour long full body massage each, for the princely sum of £7. This was done by the disciples of Dr Lily Yi, who appears to be something of a celebrity on the local Chinese doctor circuit. Despite being termed a 'relaxation' massage, it was actually pretty painful – our cheekbones were pressed in, ears flicked and vertebrae separated. It felt like the kind of thing that must be good for us, although we both woke up with slightly sore backs the next morning!

Lastly, for those on haircut watch, James had his head shaved (which doesn't mean bald, as I thought at first!) at a local barber, along with a beard trim. This prompted a wave of hair cuts amongst the other male members of the group – he's such a trendsetter.

The term 'Big City' takes on a whole new meaning in China. We ended our river trip down the Yangzi River in Yichang, a small city with a mere 4 million inhabitants. We started it in Chongqing – A BIG City.

Chongqing is one of the biggest cities in the world. 40 million people live there, clinging to the mountains on the edge of the muddy Yangzi river. 40 million people grifting, eating, shitting and spitting, all in one place.

Of course it's a complete monstrosity. At once organic and mechanical, it creeps up the foothills and leeches at the river, but also steams and grinds and pounds round-the-clock like a Victorian dockyard. Walking back from dinner, we saw a JCB with a huge flashlight attached to its digger so that it could keep working through the night.

Nicknamed 'The Mountain City', its skyscrapers and concrete freeways tightly hug the contours of the terrain so that as you hike around the town, each new vista reveals another metropolis - another million homes and shops and factories and offices you never knew about, going up and falling down, construction and destruction simultaneous and indistinguishable.

And yet I found it strangely loveable. As well as the sheer awe inspired by Chongqing's scale, I felt the city had a great energy and excitement to it – and behind its ugliness, a sense of utility and lack of pretence. It's a place too busy being to worry about how it looks.

Arriving in Chongqing at the central bus station, we got a quick and dangerous taxi down to the docks to load our bags onto our cruise ship before exploring the city. Avoiding several dogged locals who wanted to carry our bags for 10 yuan (about a pound) we tiptoed over the mudflats onto the gangway and up into the belly of the boat.

'The Princess' was one of the smaller cruise ships - a three-tiered, diesel-powered ship with a dining hall and a bar and not much else. Daily shore-excursions were encouraged to avoid any Jack Nicholson-style episodes of cabin fever, but after 3 nights penned-in with 100 hardcore Chinese holiday-makers, we were starting to feel the strain.

Travelling with the locals did have its advantages though. The second night on the boat we got to experience a traditional Chinese evening entertainment – the talent show. This was kicked-off by a selection of the younger women from the crew dressing up in sexy evening wear and tottering in succession down a makeshift catwalk in the bar, to the evident delight of the older gentlemen in the audience. The 'show' then continued with several rounds of karaoke, a Chinese flute performance (think Ron Burgundy, except 5 foot tall) and a game of musical chairs which Sarah unfairly lost to a hulking young Chinese guy in a black shell-suit.

My favourite shore-excursion was a trip up a side tributary of the Yangzi. Here the gorge was much narrower, and the river became so shallow that we had to climb into little wooden bottom boats to get further upstream. From these boats we saw many new houses where farming families had been relocated after the dam was built and they found their fields underwater. We also saw a local tradition in practice – hanging coffins. This is a funeral practice of the native Bo people, where they wedge the coffins of the newly dead into cracks in the gorge walls, or balance them on wooden staves hammered into the rock face. Creepy stuff, especially as no one knows quite how they get them up there.

The wooden boats were powered by local (displaced) farmers rocking back and forth over 4 oars, or scampering along the riverbank to tow us with ropes. Apparently in the summer they work in their traditional uniforms – bamboo sandles, cotton harnesses and their birthday suits. I doubt if even this sight could have lifted Sarah's spirits however, as she spent the entire trip gripping her seat and the kind Chinese gentlemen next to her for fear of falling into the water (video to follow).

The Yangzi runs east from Qinghai province in the Northeastern part of the Tibetan plateau to the East China Sea at Shanghai. We followed the river for the most popular 600km stretch, running from Chongqing to Yichang through the famous Three Gorges: The Qutang, Wu and Xiling gorges... and then through the even more famous Three-Gorges Dam.

The gorges themselves are incredible. Some of the mountains loom one thousand metres above you, with craggy peaks tearing through the ever-present 'mist' (I'm beginning to think this 'mist' is often a euphemism for the massive amounts of smog in this country). The gorges must have been even more impressive before the dam was built – at that point the river was 30 metres lower than it was when we travelled on it, and 50 metres lower than it was last winter.

Before arriving at Yichang, we had a brief stop at the dam. I think the construction of the dam and its impact on the people living around it are much more impressive than sight of the concrete wall itself (although of course this didn't stop us taking pictures with the rest of the tourists). For example, 1.3 million people had to be relocated to build the dam, and 15 million people were 'saved' from the risk of flooding. The dam now supplies 3% of all China's electricity.

We disembarked in Yichang – the small city – and immediately headed to a nearby Korean Barbeque restaurant to enjoy some proper food after three days of buffet blandness. Thus sated we set out to explore the city, and were pleasantly surprised. The Lonely Planet is pretty scathing about Yichang, saying the only reason to be there is to get on or off of a cruise. Whilst this is true, the city still has a lot going for it. It's really relaxed, the people are friendly, local food is tasty and it's got a fantastic riverside park that stretches the entire length of the city.

Running through the park the next morning was a surreal experience. As well as the traditional tai-chi classes, we also passed a pack of 50 grannies moving in sync to a dance-version of Britney Spears, and another group of seniors doing some kind of kung-fu with real swords! My personal favourite however, which you can find in most parks in China, was the adult jungle gym. It's kind of a cross between a kids playground and an outdoor Fitness First, and its principle function appears to be to provide octogenarians with a variety of different seats in which they can lounge whilst nattering with their friends.

Another long overnight train journey and we arrived in Chengdu, heartland of Sichuan province at 05:30.  After an early breakfast we headed straight for the Giant Panda sanctuary and made it there for feeding time.  We saw the older pandas first and they were completely adorable, lying on their backs so their stomachs formed a feeding tray.  In order to exist on bamboo alone, pandas have to eat some 40kg of the stuff a day: breakfast is a serious business.  Most of them were clutching a stick of bamboo in each paw, so they knew where their next bit was coming from. They were also surprisingly human in their movements – they have developed thumbs to help their grip and to peel the bamboo shoots.  I could also definitely empathise when I saw one of the pandas get halfway up a tree and then stop and look around, a 'what the hell do I do now?' expression written all over his face.

 

But the cutest of all were the baby pandas – 4 were born in captivity about 6 months ago.  They had a little more energy than their parents, and spent their time climbing all over the various wooden frames which have been erected for the purpose, play-fighting to determine who was king of the castle.  They also did a bit of walking backwards, which resembled moon walking.

 

Apart from its panda, Chengdu is also famous for its spicy cuisine, and the temperament of its women – earning them the moniker 'la meizi' or 'spicy girls.'  We sampled a few dishes, including the famous hotpot: various meats and vegetables are thrown into a pot of hot spicy oil, then dipped in sesame oil for good measure.  Sichuanese cooking involves two main flavours in perfect balance – the chilli pepper's la (spicy) flavour is counterbalanced by the ma (literally numbness) of the peppercorn.  I felt like I was about to have a tooth extracted, such was the power of the anaesthetic!

 

The second part of our Sichuan excursion was spent in the Buddhist mountains, first at Leshan and later, Emei Shan.  The main sight on Leshan is the majestic Grand Buddha, a 71m high statue carved from the rock.  It was originally the brainchild of a monk called Haitong, who in 713AD hoped that the presence of Buddha would calm the swift rivers surrounding the mountain, and protect boatmen from the strong prevailing currents.  Whether it was Buddha, or the jettisoned rocks placed in the river hollows which did the trick, no one knows (!), but the waters were duly calmed.  Perhaps more impressive even than the Buddha were the Chinese queueing skills (or lack thereof) again on display, along with the slanging match we witnessed between a Chinese tourist and a poor employee, who had the audacity to ask her to 'keep moving along.'  There were no fisticuffs, but it came pretty close.

 

 

The trekking was definitely a highlight.  We walked through acres of lush greenery relatively unspoilt by the Chinese penchant for concrete or the ubiquitous 'tourist tat' touts.  Waterfalls and streams abounded, along with the local macaques, on the lookout for a free snack.  These monkeys are so clever that they are able to open bottles of fizzy drinks and pull biscuits out of unsuspecting tourists' pockets.  We were all on our guard, especially when our guide whipped out the firecrackers to ensure they kept their distance.  Fortunately we escaped unscathed, unlike one of our Chinese counterparts, who had a monkey jump onto her shoulders!

Although Beijing has a similar sized population to Shanghai, the capital feels much more Chinese and, in some ways, much more liveable than its southern counterpart. It's also definitely a driving city, as we discovered when James attempted to navigate his own route to the Olympic Park, ignoring the alternative suggestions made by the hotel staff. An hour's walk later we arrived at the Bird's Nest, having batted off the unwanted attentions of a tuk-tuk driver for most of the way. He pursued us down the hard shoulder of a highway, so determined was he to ferry us to our destination. Fortunately the Park was worth the trek, although the Water Cube was a little disappointing – definitely looked better on TV!

The highlight of our stay here has undoubtedly been our trip to the Great Wall. Originally constructed to keep out the Mongols on the orders of the tyrannical Emperor Qin Shi Huang over 2000 years ago, the Wall has since been restored, in parts, almost to its former glory. And what a sight it is. The bricks and mortar snake over the hilly landscape like a serpent or a Chinese dragon, stretching as far into the distance as the eye can see in both directions (though it cannot be viewed from space, as the guides insist on reminding us). We enjoy a 10km hike on the Wall through the Jinshanling and Simatai sections, which involves me climbing using hands and feet to navigate the more precarious sections. Was slightly sobering to be passed by little old ladies lugging bags of water and beer to sell to willing tourists, but I figure they've had more practice at it than me.

We also spent a fascinating morning exploring the hutong (literally: narrow alleyways) of the city. Originally constructed to house Beijing's population after Genghis Khan reduced the place to rubble, the numbers of hutong swelled to some 6000 in the 1950s. Many have since been bulldozed in the name of modernisation (sometimes, apparently, with their residents still inside) but those that remain gave us a bit more of an insight into everyday life here. Through half-opened doors we glimpsed part-played checker games, families enjoying bowls of steaming noodles and children getting a head start on their gambling by playing card games. The children were the cutest, staring at us open-mouthed or trying to practise their English skills with a friendly 'hullow.' It was really refreshing to wander round and not feel like we were disturbing, or being disturbed by people keen to sell us something.

Yet the city retains a darker side. The dominant feature of the entrance to the Forbidden City is a huge portrait of Chairman Mao, and the man himself lies in state in an enormous mausoleum in the centre of Tienanmen Square, with Chinese queuing around the block to catch a glimpse (he remains hugely popular, despite managing to kill 5% of the entire population during his reign – 30 million during the Great Leap Forward alone). Some 20 years on, our guide is still not legally allowed to talk about the atrocities committed here by the government, and secret police patrol the area, on the lookout for trouble. The parliament building - the Great Hall of the People - remains closed to Joe Public. Amongst the vast changes sweeping the subcontinent, it will be interesting to see what alters politically in the next few decades – and perhaps more crucially, what remains the same.

This is Sarah Davies, reporting live from Beijing for James and Sarah's Grand Tour news.

For me, a defining memory of Japan was standing next to a small old lady at a pedestrian crossing in Kyoto.  We were in the financial district early on a Saturday morning, so it was just us and this woman.  We hadn't seen a car in fifteen minutes.  Still this lady calmly stood on the curb, waiting for the green man.  The red man said wait, so she waited.  These are the rules we live by.

Now compare that to Shanghai. 

In Shanghai there are no rules.  There aren't even guidelines.  Pedestrians feel no qualms about striding across a busy road when the red man is lit, and conversely cars have no issues with knocking over a few passers-by when they feel like running a red.  Mopeds jump onto the pavement if they think it'll be faster, and cyclists speed the wrong way down the street if they think they can handle it.  And all the time, everyone shouts at one another and honks their horns. 

All in all, Shanghai was a breath of fresh air after Japan.  It's a truly fantastical place.  During the bus journey into town we felt a kind of post-colonial indignation: 'Why wasn't I told that they've build a city twice the size of London, with more skyscrapers than New York, and more bling and bombastic architecture than Vegas???  Are they allowed to do this?  How dare they!'. 

It's definitely a city that's going somewhere fast, though God knows where.  Building sites are everywhere - skyscrapers sprouting overnight under bamboo scaffolding and hordes of labourers work around the clock digging, drilling, laying concrete, welding steel.  Aside from the grand old buildings of the Bund, and the few remaining old tenaments that haven't yet been converted into shopping malls, it's all brand new: communist apartment blocks, skyscraper after skyscraper and here and there the strange western-style mansions of the nouveau-riche.

To try and get a sense of the scale of the place, on our second day in the city we went to the financial district - Pudong - to a bar on the 86th floor of an office building.  After a few drinks, looking down at the million city lights smeared across the Bund it's hard not to feel like you're in the future, staring at some sci-fi metropolis.  If aliens landed and their first impression of Earth was Shanghai they would be very worried indeed: 'They built this city in 20 years, what they hell are they going to be doing in another 20?!'

On arriving in Shanghai we learned that Blogger, Facebook and Picassa are all blocked in China, so we will only be able to update the blog via email for the next couple of weeks - no photos.

Still, this means a bumper upload when we arrive in Vietnam!

Lots of love, Sarah & James x