Suzhou

In Suzhou we visited another nice garden, the museum and a silk factory (with the compulsory shop at the end of the tour). The silk factory was quite fascinating as I'd always wondered how a cocoon can be so neatly unwrapped. In the example we watched, eight cocoons were unravelled by machine to make a single thread, although many more are used for higher quality threads. They bobbed in water, or some other liquid designed to make them amenable to unravelling, and as they neared their end a transparent blob was left, in which we could clearly see the pupa. Apparently these are eaten by those who like them, fried up as a little snack. Double cocoons are opened by hand and stretched over a bamboo frame, ten layered together. When dry, these are stretched out to make the filling for duvets - so now at last I know how my gorgeous duvet was made.

Later in the afternoon, we joined the thronging bike lane by taking rickshaw rides down to the river for a canal cruise. This city - once a charming small town, now still small with a population of only 6 million - is built on a maze of canals, and is no doubt dubbed the Venice of the East. Yesterday's heavy rains meant that many of the smaller channels into the old town were closed off, but we caught some enticing glimpses. Later we explored this area on foot, snacking on street food, drifting in and out of souvenir shops and stopping at a canal-side cafe for a bit of light refreshment.

Eventually exhausted, we decided to try to get a taxi back to the hotel, but before we could do so we were approached by a motor-rickshaw driver. The tiny box on the back of his bike hardly looked suitable for the four of us, but he insisted and we thought it was such a laugh that we didn't even consider haggling the price down. Gursh and I hopped in, choosing what we later found out was the more generous seat, which also had the advantage of being enclosed at the sides. Sian and Sandra got themselves and their shopping in, facing us on the seat next to the spaces that acted as doors, and when someone asked "Is everyone in OK?" Sandra merrily replied "No, not really," as we chugged off into the night with her right buttock slightly exposed to the traffic. I have to say she was pretty game, although we were all worried about the effects of sharp corners. Gursh suggested Sian and Sandra linked arms to help hold each other in, helpfully demonstrating by linking his through mine, which was rather nice so I didn't complain. We began to get the giggles, which only got worse when it became doubtful that the poor little motorbike was going to be able to get its weighty cargo up the incline of a longish bridge. Other rickshaw drivers and cyclists laughed and pointed, and despite Sian saying that we wouldn't be laughing so much if we were in their seats, all four of us were beside ourselves. We were still bubbling with it when we finally squeezed ourselves out, like some sort of a magic trick, popping back to our real size as onlookers on the pavement watched in disbelief. I woke up the next morning still giggling.