Hangzhou

Yesterday's quick and comfortable train ride brought us to Hangzhou, where I suddenly crumpled. Ten days of trying to sleep with a snorer as my room-mate had taken their toll. I paid the extra for a room of my own and took to my bed. This morning I felt well rested, but my head still pounded. I mooched miserably around West Lake, supposedly China's most romantic lake, much favoured by emperors and honeymooners. It is probably very lovely, but today it had all the relaxing romantic charm of Alton Towers on a bank holiday. It was, you might say, a little crowded. And noisy - bear in mind that the average tour group has a leader with a microphone/loudspeaker set, as well as about forty noisy, path-blocking followers dressed in matching hats. Oh, and the souvenir of choice, being sold (and ceaselessly demonstrated) about every ten yards along every path, was a bird-call whistle. Any bird that sounds like that deserves to be shot.

In the afternoon we visited a tea plantation, although we saw only a token tea-bush or two. I could barely stagger off the bus, so was allowed to skip the history talk and go and wait in one of the tea-tasting rooms. My fellow travellers soon joined me and our delightful host poured green tea, told us all about it, showed us samples and added orange peel and things to our glasses while teaching us a little tea etiquette. Somewhere around my third or fourth glass I realised I was restored! I'd started chatting and felt good and was quite gobsmacked by the suddenness of it. Marvelous stuff. A small tin of the very finest quality 'Emperor tea' is now tucked in the bottom of my rucksack.