And I'm back

Jesus once said one should forgive one's enemies 7 x 77 times. That metaphorical sum is the literal number of times I have mentally chastised myself for not being more regular in updating my blog. So to stop it rising to 777 times, I shall endeavour to post today, now I'm ensconced back in the UK with free time and internet.
Becoming distinctly old news now, but I shall continue with my Beijing times. If there is to be a next time, I'm either going to take someone fluent in Chinese or come a lot more prepared instead of just on a wing and a prayer. Not too many Chinese on the street speak much in the way of English (unless they're art students trying to flog you their wares) and why should they need to when Mandarin is set to be the language of the internet in ten years, a useful marker for the future need to be conversant in Chinese.
Mind you, such power is through unsustainable growth. Though the ground air is deceptively clear, Beijing's haze is fearsome yet fitting for one of the ten most polluted cities in the world. On some days it was impossible to see the horizon as buildings retreated into the smog.
The hotel itself was run by Mongolians, probably from Inner Mongolia controlled by the People's Republic, since Altaa was the one who booked the hotel, but English still didn't abound, which could have the made the place cheaper since it was less likely to be used by westerners with fat wallets and waistlines. The location was also good. Until Altaa arrived (and even after she did), working out the electronics in the hotel room was trial-and-error. On the first night, to avoid going to sleep with the fall of sunset, I pulled up a stool and read by the light of the bathroom, shining out into the short frameless corridor connecting the bedroom proper with the front door. For a while, warm water in the bathroom was issued by the mixer tap as the lukest of lukewarm (as opposed to the alternative of ice cold). However, it all added to the curious charm of things not going quite as one expected.

The story begins

Ah, now where was I? Beijing, that's it. Not having blogged for a while one gets a bit rusty. But I'll start at the beginning, which seems sensible. It was in Heathrow Departure Lounge that I saw the news on the BBC that crocodile hunter Steve Irwin was dead. Poor Steve. One of those larger than life figures, who succumbed not to one croc too many, but the stingray barb that sadly unerringly found his heart. I'll always remember the time from one of his outakes where he cradles a koala which starts to punch him in the face, quite rapid-fire and refuses to desist.
I flew with Austrain airlines. The benefit of flying with an airline from a permanently neutralised state is that one gets metal cutlery (as we flew out of Vienna after a refuelling stop), though this was not replicated for breakfast, with plastic to the fore once more. At Beijing International Airport, I went to relieve myself of a number 2 job only to find, incongruously in this shiny, modern airport, a hole in the floor; a rather nice design and all ceramics, but still a hole in the floor. I nipped in the disabled toilet for comfort, but how will athletes react at the 2008 Olympics when shown the crapper?
As time ran out to my Far Eastern Departure, I decided to buy my Beijing guide in the city itself. Unfortunately, it was the Lonely Planet 2005 version which got crap reviews on Amazon, not LP's updated 2006 copy. Still, it was amusing to find 'politically unacceptable' passages excised with a dense, white sticker pasted over it. Any reference to the Tiananmen Square Massacre or the Falum Gong movement was slapped with the faceless stamp. The sticker-slappers did not leave no page unturned as I eventually found an ambiguous footnote on Tiananmen buried deep elsewhere from the general info that had not been seen. I don't know if the bookshop indulged self-censorship or if it really was officialdom, but, dissident that I am, I easily peeled away the stickers. Whoever did it even took umbrage at a tiny vignette of the author's sarcasm where "Bicycles cannot be ridden across Tiananmen Square (apparently tanks are OK)", that in brackets getting a tiny little sticker of its own. Aside from that, on a legend for a map of an outlying district, LP has listed the Wankelong Supermarket as one of the "Sights and Activities." Hmmm. Even with all this, the book turned out invaluable for navigation around Beijing and what kind of places might be worth visiting and how to go about doing so.
So with all the background out of the way, my true Beijing blog will begin in the next instalment.

Mongolian time 1.55pm
BST 5.55am

Back in Mongolia

Well, after my week-long sojourn in Beijing, I have returned to Mongolia - land of the free (internet, at least. If any officials should choose to monitor my website, it would be only snoopers from the very best Western agencies, rather than some common-or-garden voyeur). I realise it has been over two weeks since my last post, but in addition to Chinese filters on internet use, I have been to some of the more remote parts of Mongolia before finding time to go on the internet from Ulaan Baatar, where I can be guaranteed of unfettered posting and access.
So, I will post my recent exploits in the Orient over the coming few days. Suffice to say now I have been catching up on internet use and have been on it for over 2 and a half hours now.
Mongolian time 15.34.
British Summer Time 07.34.

Four words: Snakes On A Plane. When I grow up I want to make films like that.