FOOD, DRINK, LIFE.

I decide to invite a few colleagues for dinner and at the request of Iris I make paella and tapas (spicy potatoes, king prawns in garlic butter with chilli, garlic mushrooms, salad, battered calamari, olives and crusty bread with oils.) This of course creates the customary challenge of making all this in my galley kitchen but it all seems to work out well and we have a pleasant evening, mostly gossiping about work. Fortunately I'm not teaching the next day so I have plenty of time to clean up, although guests lend a hand on the night. We are up chatting past 11pm so I suppose this makes for a good evening. Normally I'd never expect guests to help wash up, but in this environment I can't afford to say no as it's very difficult owing to the lack of work surfaces!

I actually have a fairly busy week as I have dinner with an American friend in town where they make wood fired pizzas and I'm quite surprised to receive a text message from someone I haven't seen or heard from in a long time, an Italian lady who teaches at a nearby university. So we have a quick beer in the shacks outside our apartments and the weather is fine: although there are some strange kind of fuzzy particles blowing along the streets, apparently from some trees. It has been like this for some time and it's as if a lorry has crashed and turned over on the road full of feathers or soft pillow stuffing. Anyway the next day I'm off to Beijing for the next of my planned visits.

 I teach on Friday and afterwards grab some noodles in one of my favourite shacks: following this I take a taxi to the railway station. He tries to pick up two Chinese girls outside a hotel on the way, both of them with big suitcases despite the fact I already have two bags on the back seat of the car so how he expects to fit these two in I have no idea. I won't allow him to do it and wave them away. The train journey takes about an hour and I take the subway to my hostel arriving at about 4.15 pm.

 This is a charming hostel called Red Lantern House and you can see why from these photos: it's so attractive I can't help taking pictures and using up my memory! I struggle to get my bearings a little to find it and it takes about 10-15 minutes to walk, but it is in a pleasant and leafy hutong, presumably another old courtyard home. All of the hotels I've booked except one are like this.

I anticipate some difficulty checking in as there is nearly always some minor problem: this time I'm reasonably well-prepared, with my booking printed in Chinese, my passport, cash to pay for the hostel as I know they don't take international cards, and so I hope it all goes well.

However the lady at the reception desk keeps flipping through my passport. Does she want the date of my last entry into China, I ask? Yes, so I point out the date stamp. Is there still a problem? Now she wants the address of the university I work at. Fortunately I have this printed in Chinese on a taxi card. Still however I have an uneasy feeling as she's now gabbling animatedly to the manager and pointing at my passport. Unable to endure this any longer I ask if there is some problem and do I need to call the University? (I'd rather not do and hope I don't need to) But it's OK. The manager explains that the police in this particular district are especially vigilant and tend to ask numerous questions when registering foreigners. I make a mental note to bring one of my registration forms next time.

This aside, the hostel is charming and the room pleasant, apart from the fact that it has shared showers, toilets and washrooms which reminds me of my camping days!  

I don't have much time as I've arranged to meet Phantom in 4 Corners at 5pm, so I have a quick freshen up and walk out towards Houhai. It takes longer to get there than I had expected on foot, however I manage to arrive at 4 Corners just after 5. In fact I don't recognise Phantom for a moment as she has a new short hairstyle!

We drop into Great Leap and later at another bar she encounters some other friends as she is a regular at this bar, the first I visited in Beijing, and introduces me so we spend a little time chatting to these ladies.

At about 10pm Phantom has to go home and I walk back to the hostel pleased with myself that I've managed to find it without getting lost. The next morning I wake at 6 but rise at 7. I'm hungry so am pleased to find the hostel offers breakfast after I walk around the area in the sunshine as it's a beautiful morning. I order toast, jam, sausage, bacon and eggs with coffee and orange juice and this makes for a pleasant start. The sun pours through the ceiling and I can sit and write for a while listening to the gurgling of the fountain which has colourful fish in it.

 Sadly this tranquil scene is interrupted by the arrival of a group of American backpackers, as usual female, blonde and loud. They don't mean to be, they just are. I know that not everyone is like elderly English ladies in guesthouses at breakfast, all gentle murmuring, and clinking of cutlery, but sitting listening to these guys yelling “Can I get...?” “OH my Gaaaahhhd!!”and laughing uproariously at everything each other says as if it's hilariously funny and generally braying at the tops of their voices is my idea of hell. So I abandon my writing and go off for a shower and change, packing a day bag as I'm meeting Adrian today for lunch at Stuff'd, hopefully of sausage and mash or pie. All the time I can hear these stentorian ladies guffawing and exclaiming their way through their breakfasts. An hour passes and they're still there: I was hoping to outlast them so I could sit in the hostel and write: my room is too shady in this weather But they seem to have every intention of remaining there all morning. So I decide to walk to Houhai to escape.

 The weather is glorious and the walk takes about 20 minutes so I try to find somewhere to sit down, but there really isn't anywhere suitable. I remember there are a few cafes in the hutong, so I try walking around there but when I arrive in the area I remember I find that one of them has been closed down and turned into a house and the other isn't open yet. I walk around the corner to Great Leap and find to my surprise that the courtyard is open with Ringo sitting there:it turns out they have a beer festival today and are preparing early.

 Ringo kindly allows me to sit in the courtyard in the sunshine and do a little writing. It's peaceful and relaxing. Following this I take the tube to Lama Temple station where I meet Adrian for lunch at Stuff'd. This is good apart from them seemingly having no means of making mashed potato. As they are able to make home-made chips I can only assume they don't have any one there today who knows how to make mash, so we have to make do with pie, sausage and chips. The meat pie is very good, the first I've had in months, and we have a good time despite being assailed by the booming voices of a group of Americans at a nearby table which actually make it hard for us to hear each other.

At any rate we have a very good afternoon which we spend in a cafe having green tea, followed by a visit to Great Leap. Owing to the beer festival it's very crowded so we stay for about an hour then I suggest we move on to 4 Corners which is much quieter. Here we carry on chatting away with some expats and I have some more seared squid.: but I do like the look of Adrian's curried chicken so make a mental note to try it next time.

The day wears on into the evening with me getting back to the hostel around 10 pm. It's been an enjoyable weekend.

I have breakfast in the hostel the next morning. It's quite good but again is spoiled by the usual annoying backpackers: (30-year old blonde, middle-class American females). They're not braying this time but they insist on having Skype meetings which create a tinny gabble on someone's phone, accompanied by the usual inane cackle. I resort to earplugs. In case anyone reading this thinks I dislike American people I can assure you that is not so. I've had a great time with many people from the USA in China and when I visited America myself. It's simply that the annoying backpackers I come across happen to be American. I've encountered the same types for which you can substitute the word “British.” Oddly the only non-annoying types I've come across have been German: interesting as they are often stereotyped as rude.

On returning to Baoding it's a sunny day again so I have a beer in the shacks and lunch outside.