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Around China i Link to: www.enjoyingenglish.info * Interactive Map of China from World Atlas.com *Places to see in Beijing * The Great Wall * The Love Story * Into the Sea of Clouds * Cormorrants and Caves * Silk Dreams * A Night At The Opera * An Army In Stone * All Roads Lead To Lhasa * Across The Water To The Peak * Caves * More information - China's Great Wall & Picture Gallery * The Forbidden City & Picture Gallery * The Silk Road * The Qin Emperor's Terracotta Warriors * China's Sacred Mountains * Welcome to 'Around China'. The name is familiar to many as the title of a programme on CCTV. The television programme and another, 'Re-discovering China', gave me an insight into the beautiful, new, and mysterious country that is China. They introduced me to the countryside I had seen in books; an almost unimaginable wealth of history and culture, music, fabulous food - and most important, wonderful people. AC.  Interactive Map of China
The Great Wall - still under construction. Ha! Ha!
It's the symbol of China , and not to climb it at some point in your China trip would be a pity. It's not until you get up onto its fortified ramparts and watch it snaking away over the pale green hills into the horizon, that you realize, 'this is a great wall.'
 My first visit to China was one of the worst flights I have ever encountered. Very bad turbulance, with thunder, lightning and hail stones on a KLM flight from Amsterdam . As we flew over Mngolia the weather suddenly changed as dawn broke. The plane tilted slightly from first the port side*, then to the starboard. There it was, a golden ribbon of stone in the early morning sunshine. trailing westwards. A surge of emotion and puzzled thoughts raced through my mind. How far does it go? Who were the people who built it. I had to visit The Wall.
Like any compelling historical attraction the Great Wall yields up its secrets reluctantly. The Qin dynasty original of 2,000 years ago, was probably a much more modest undertaking than the monster that is supposedly visible from the moon today. What about its length? Nearly every reference will give you a conflicting answer. The Chinese themselves call it 'Wanli Changcheng', or the 10,000 li - long wall, a li being a Chinese measurement of length that equals around half a kilometer, making the wall 5,000 km (3,100 miles) long; but discoveries farther westwards. have added another 1,500 km. For that matter, how 'great' was it, anyway? As far as Genghis Khan was concerned, only as great as 'the courage of those who defended it.' Marco Polo didn't even bother mentioning it. And to top it off, it didn't fulfill its purpose: invaders swept across it, and Europeans and Japanese approached from the wrong side.
It's here that the greatness of this wall forces itself upon you. Imagine soldiers patrolling it, one eye nervously on the barbaric wastes to the west and north, the other longingly on a distant homeland and loved ones to the east. The soldiers were conscripts more likely than not, as were the wall's builders.
The Love Story. This story happens a long time ago in the Qin Dynasty. At that time Qin Shi Huang sent out 800,000 civilian workers to build the Great Wall.
In Suzhou there was scholar called Wan Xi Liang , he had to evade a feudal official, and hide himself. One day he escaped, and having arrived at the Meng Jiang Nv's garden, he accidentally comes across the woman named Meng Jiang Nv. She was a beautiful and clever girl;  she and her parents had hidden together. Her parents, two old people from Suzhou, are fond of the Wan Xi liang very much; she would be betrothed to him; Meng Jiang Nv would make a beautiful and devoted wife. Newly-married, having gone to bed; as they were about to kiss, suddenly! - The Emperors Guards arrived! Seizing him! Dragging him from his bed, Wan Xi Liang was taken by the guards. He was a new conscript being taken to lands far away in the north and was going to find his fate, constructing the Great Wall. Meng Jiang Nv cried. She cried, and she cried. She cried rivers of tears; enough to make the Huang He flood the plains! Waiting for her husband to return as hard.
Half a year passed away , Wan Xi Liang was good. A little information also not. Poor girl! Already was late autumn; winter was approaching. Boreas rose from all directions , red catkin become white. The weather had cooled down.
One day. Meng Jiang Nv remembered her husband constructing Great Wall, far away in the north. Surely he must be to chilled to the bone.
With her own hands, she had sewn winter clothing. With the determination of a trusted and devoted wife, she set out on the long and hazardous journey. She needed to go round the Great Wall to seek her stricken husband, Wan Xi Liang. Meng Jiang Nv had not been aware of the experiences she would meet on the way, The journey had been difficult. She arrived at the Great Wall bitterly cold and tired. Exhausted by her harrowing travels, she set about searching for her husband.
'Had anyone known the civilian worker from the south who helped construct The Great Wall?' she enquired. She trudged li upon li, when she came upon a group of peasants, telling her, ' Wan Xi Liang had died already,' 'his skeleton had been filled into the lining of the Wall.'
On hearing this heart-rending information, Meng Jiang Nv felt darkness all round. She fell senseless to the ground. Sudden,y, after waking up, she cried bitterly, grieveously, She criedy for a day, sorrowfully, tragically. Life without her husband had no meaning.
How long she cried; day after day. She cried without the knowledge that one day, there was a deafening rumble and the earth swayed, torn apart by a devastating earthquake.
The Great Wall collapsed revealing countless skeletons; several tens of li long. Meng Jiang Nv bit through a finger, she prayed, on the skeletons blood had dript in. If it was her husband's skeleton, her blood had dript onto the bone. If not , then blood was capable of flowing in all directions. Finally, and so it was that Mengjiang Nv had had found good, the skeleton of Wan Xi Liang .
 She carried the pile of his dead bones close to her breast; crying bitterly; grieving.
Qin Shi Huang had seen that Meng Jiang Nv was very beautiful; he wanted herto be an Imperial concubine. Meng Jiang Nv pretended to promise her heart to him, but asked that Qin Shi Huang did three things first:
First ask a Buddhist monk to pray for Wan Xi Liang for forty-nine days; and then bury him well.
Qin Shi Huang would hold a Grand Memorial Service, led by the Ministers of The Civil and Military to praise the service of Wan Xi Liang.
Bury the good Queen of Wan Xi Liang with his body.
Meng Jiang Nv needed to do sight-seeing among hills and rivers, to collect her thoughts and mourn for three days. Thereafter, she would get married. Qin Shi Huang had to promised Meng Jiang Nv requests.
The three matters finished thereafter, Meng Jiang Nv gave Qin Shi Huang a good scolding. Then, to the despair of Qin Shi Huang, killed herself; leaping into the rolling, raging seas. Nobody knows how many tens of thousands perished building, defending and attacking this edifice. It's a disturbing thought, but one that slips away as you trudge back to the tacky shops, restaurants and souvenir shops, and get on the bus that takes you back to your hotel in Beijing and perhaps a duck dinner, content in the knowledge that you've 'climbed the Great Wall', and you've got the T-shirt to prove it.
Tread in the footsteps of the Celestial Emperor.
What can possibly by more inviting that the forbidden? Off limits to the masses for 500 years, the gilded nest of 24 Ming and Qing dynasty emperors, their concubines, princesses and scheming eunuchs, is now open to anyone who can afford the price of an admission ticket. Founded in 1420, the Forbidded City awes and astounds. For a start it's big - 72,000sq m, over two million square feet to be precise. More than 900 rooms (an auspicious 999 a according to legend) are hidden away in the buildings that overlook its sweeping courtyards, gardens and squares. The palace walls are 10 m ( 33ft ) high and stretch for 3.4km (2.2miles). Surrounding all this is a 52-m (170-ft)-wide moat.Then there's the uniquely Chinese poetry of the names: the Hall of Terrestrial Tranquillity, the Hall of Celestial Purity, the Hall of Supreme Harmony, the Hall of Literary Glory, the Hall of military Prowess. The Purple Fobidden City is what it's called in Chinese, a reference to the purple palace of the Emperor of Heaven, whose home is in the faraway reaches of space, near the North Star. The Forbidden City is truly an attempt to duplicate all the glory of the heavens. It's easy to be swept away by the vast grandeur of it all and miss the details: the carved marble carriageways underfoot, the haughty expressions of stylized fury on the faces of the sculpted lions (the male with the pomegranate symbol of power in his right paw, the female with a cub beneath her left), the gold filigree depicting dragons and other mythological creatures. You cannot pause to savor such moments of observation for long; there's too much to see. Entry is via the Meridian Gate in the southern walls of the city. Built in 1420, this is the grand main gate, the largest of all the many gates in the city, and in times past, ceremonial drums would sound from the gates to announce important occasions.
The gate opens out into an expanse of courtyard. Try to imagine the scenes of vast pomp and splendor - the emperor accompanied by an imperial guard that included Burmese elephants in its ranks - that once graced its flagstones. Today it bustles with tourists, many of them lingering on the five marble bridges that symbolize the five Confucian virtues. Don't forget to turn and look back at the Meridian Gate: It looks best from inside the walls.
This is the Outer Palace . The Great Within,as it was referred to, is approached by the Gate of Supreme Harmony, which lies ahead. This gate in turn takes you into another vast courtyard, so big that at special ceremonies it could accommodate the entirety of the imperial court, which at its height numbered upwards of 100,000.
At the end of the courtyard is the first and the most magnificent of the palace halls, the Hall of Supreme Harmony, where only the most important affairs of state were performed. Ahead lies the Hall of Middle Harmony, where the visiting heads of faraway vassal states might be ushered to kowtow before the emperor, and ahead again lies the Hall of Preserving Harmony, where the empire's best and brightest scholars took examinations for positions as mandarins in the exalted imperial service.
You are, if you haven't realized it yet, approaching the inner sanctum of the Celestial Empire in stages as you walk northwards: The emperor faced the outside world from the Meridian Gate, he addressed his court from the Gate of Supreme Harmony; he disposed of state affairs in the Hall of Middle Harmony; he appointed the inner core of his administration in the Hall of Preserving Harmony; and beyond all this was the imperial living quarters, which were the preserve of the emperor, his concubines and an army of court eunuchs.
Today you can stroll through the living quarters and try to imagine the life of the 'Son of Heaven,' the man who sat at the center of an empire that for many centuries believed itself the center of the world. If your imagination stretches this far, spare a thought for Pu Yi, the last of the Manchu emperors, cast down from such glory and ending his days as a municipal gardener in Beijing . It seems a long way to fall.
Witness the Re-awakening of a Great City  ShanghaiHuangpu park is a good place to start your Shanghai. Ahead is The Bund.
When travelers arrived by boat in the past, this was their first glimpse of the city. As for the park, formerly the British Public Gardens , it is remembered as the site of that notorious sign: 'No dogs or Chinese!'
A geriatric jazz band at the Peace Hotel (formerly The Cathay) that played pedestrian hits from the 1930s was all that was left of Shanghai 's once infamous nightlife. The city was like a museum that had been invaded by listlessly unimaginative squatters: Colonial villas had been converted into Kindergartens, banks into obscure government ministries, the once famous Wing On Department Store had become the drab NO.10 Department Store.
What a difference a decade or so can make. Shanghai has been busy dusting off the cobwebs, tunneling subways, erecting expressways and re-learning the art of window dressing. There are vacationing crowds on the Bund - Chinese families dressed to the nines, munching on snacks, squinting at maps and pointing out historical sites. The shoppers on Nanjing Road bustle in and out of refurbished department stores, boutiques and restaurants. Skyscrapers pop up almost before your very eyes on the other side of the river. The NO.10 Department Store been once again re-christened as the HuaLien Department Store.
Shanghai , China 's definitively modern city, is reclaiming its style too. You can see it on The Bund. The Peace Hotel is a wonderful piece of f'in de siecle' elegance. When it was The Cathay, Noel Coward wrote 'Private Lives' ensconced in a suite here. The Long Bar in the Tung Feng Hotel, once home to the most exclusive club in the Far East, is now ironically home to a branch of an American fast food outlet, but the bar has been recreated in Shanghai style up in the Shanghai Centre on Nanjing Road.
While that thirties retro look is popular (there's money in it), Shanghai has a sharp eye to the future. The pace of change tempts you to reach for words such as 'dizzying.' Even locals despair of keeping up with it. Someone guides you around the corner to a renowned restaurant only to find a fastfood centre or a boutique specializing in Yves Saint Laroche. 'That's funny,' they say, rubbing their chin with a look of troubled dislocation. 'It was here last week, I'm sure of it.'
Not that you will hear Shanghainese complaining . This sudden invasion of the twenty-first century is nothing more than their birthright. The city may have nodded off for a few decades, but it was always the brashest, brightest, biggest city in China , one of the biggest in the world (16 million people at last count).
You can spend US$300 or more on a bottle of XO brandy in one of these places if you like; many customers do. The Rolexes and the suits come from the massive department store complexes that Japanese investment has brought to town ¨C Isetan and Yaohan to name two. There are late-night queues and eagle-eyed door staff at dance Clubs such as New York New York and LA Caf¨¦. Just north of Suzhou Creek is a crackling neon entertainment enclave that looks for all the world like it¡¯s been plucked from downtown Tokyo.
New Shanghai is in a hurry to catch up. As you stroll around town there is an infectious sense of urgency about the place. Head off down a quiet side street. Washing hangs from poles in the windows, old men sit on collapsible stools playing chess, a woman wobbles past on a bicycle laden with groceries. And there, up ahead, is a narrow building where the first National Congress of the Communist Party was held. Not far away, on what was once the Rue Moliere, is a former residence of Sun yatsen, China 's Quixotic revolutionary father. In the northwest of town is the Jade Buddha Temple , home of a 1,000kg (2,200Ib) jewel-encrusted Buddha statue brought from Myanmar .
It's a relief to find these historical sites still standing. Others are long gone : The Shanghai Racecourse is now the People's Park and People's Square. Other have been transformed: The Yuyuan Gardens and Bazaar, on the northern edge of the old Chinese Quarter, may date from sixteenth century Ming China, but today it's more theme park than monument. Beijing is the city with the sights. The population in Shanghai are too busy making money, eating, getting on with things, to worry much about tourist attractions: You go to Shanghai because it is Shanghai ; and if that's where you come from, nowhere else really counts.
Into the Sea of Clouds
China's sacred peaks are scattered the length and breadth of the country ; pilgrims have toiled up their slopes and artists sought inspiration in their views for centuries. Most peaks are either Buddhist or Daoist: Mt Emeishan in Sichuan , for example, is Buddhist, while Taishan in Shandong province is Daoist; but a few peaks - such as Huangshan in Anhui province ¨C have been sanctified by their beauty alone.Whether Buddhist, Daoist or simply beautiful, climbing one of China's sacred mountains is like slipping through some magical backdoor into the world of the Chinese watercolor. Those fluted rocks surmounted by a lone pine, roiling clouds lapping at gnarled roots really do exist. The catch is that getting up to the elevations required for such views invariably demands serious exertions.
At Anhui province's Huangshan, perhaps the most gorgeous of all China's sacred mountains, the path up into the clouds is long and arduous, and - as the song goes -'with many a winding turn.' The scenic western approach, which includes precipitous steps hewn out of rock faces, and a vertiginous approach up to the Heavenly Capital Peak , is a full 15km (10 miles) of climbing. Even if you're in good shape, you can be sure you'll have some aches and pains the next day. I could barely walk for two days after visiting Huangshan, and all I'd done was the Of course, and there are those who will resent such modern encroachments ¨C the inevitable has happened, and at the most popular sacred mountains a cable car will be waiting to whisk you to the summit. In the case of Huangshan, the cable car does the trip in just eight minutes. Contrast this with the quickest walking route- the eastern approach - which takes a minimum of three grueling hours, and the temptation to do the ascent sitting down becomes difficult to resist. Unless you're in Olympic condition or have of time on your hands, I recommend the cable car one way, and a foot slog the other. Up or down, take your pick; it's hard either way, but at least you have momentum and gravity on your side on the descent. If you find yourself regretting the endeavor half way up or down, spare a thought for the famed Chinese artist Liu Haisu, who climbed Huangshan for the tenth time in 1988¡ at the age of 93! He stayed on the mountain for two months and knocked off 46 paintings.  For the true pilgrim experience, Buddhist Emeishan, in Sichuan province, is the most accessible. Even here there's a short cut, by way of a minibus service that takes you to the Jieyin Hall, where there is now a cable car that whisks latter-day pilgrims to the summit in minutes. The real attraction of Emeishan is the opportunity to slowly scale the heights, stopping at Buddhist monasteries and temples with the Chinese pilgrims (armed with staves that double as walking sticks and money-deterrents) overnight. One night is enough to get up the mountain and down again, but if you can afford the time, give it two nights. Some of the temple and monastery hotels, such as the one at Wannian Temple , are eight centuries or more old. A night spent in circumstances of such antiquity is a rare privilege indeed in the new China . Cormorants, caves and Limestone Peaks
 If you tire of being bussed from one five-star hotel to another and start getting the feeling that you're missing out on the real China , escape to Yangshou, Guilin' s small - town rival. The cruise boats from Guilin glide downriver past the hulking limestone monoliths that the region is famous for and stop in Yangshou, where tourists are taken back to Guilin in tour buses. Skip the bus and spend a night in Yangshou instead. Strike off into the backstreets and you'll find feisty traders presiding over piles of cabbages and fruit, clumps of talkative retirees squatting on wicker stools, and noisy mahjong games in progress. Head out of town on a bicycle and within 10 minutes you'll have paddy fields on either side. You can while away a week in Yangshou doing very little but taking in the scenery. The bicycle ride to nearby Moon Hill is a veritable rite of passage. From a huge natural arch in one of the limestone peaks you can gaze out across the patchwork of paddy fields, the karst monsters marching away into the horizon. Bring some lunch and make a picnic of it. In the afternoon you might take a trip down into the recently discovered Black Buddha and Black Dragon caves. These cave systems are still being explored, but in the meantime enterprising locals will guide you on tried and tested routes into the caves. Don't wear your best clothes, and expect to get wet.
If caves are not your thing, an afternoon splash in the river might be. Hiring inner tubes and lazily drifting with the current has become a surprisingly popular pastime in Yangshou, and it is a good way to get a closeup look at the local village life. If you get a hankering to jump on one of those boats that putter past every now and again crowded with locals going home from market or from work, don't forget to take your bicycle. A boat journey to the rural village of Xingping takes a couple of hours, and about the same to return by bicycle, a popular round trip.
Just as evening is looming and you think you've run out of things to do, you see a sign in the village advertising cormorant fishing. Don't pass it up. For a small fee, locals will take you out onto the river at dusk where you can see the fishermen plying an age-old trade with the help of trained cormorants. A halter around the cormorant's neck prevents the bird from swallowing the fish, but the fisherman allows the bird to guzzle one down every now and again. It's an atmospheric scene: the birds lined up on the prow of a small punt in the flickering light of an oil lantern, the last light of the day etched in searing red into the western sky.
Don't worry about missing dinner. The village main street is packed with restaurants, many of them open until late. Order an inexpensive bottle of the local brew, Guilin beer, as you contemplate your meal- fish perhaps.
Silk dreams.
The most intriguing of the ancient trade routes is without a doubt the Silk Road , that artery of trade, ideas and culture between the East and the West that survived from around 100BC until the thirteenth century AD. It's difficult for us now to comprehend how valuable silk was, or why it so captivated the Romans when they first encountered it in the banners of their enemies in Central Asia . Nobody in Europe knew how the material was produced and the Chinese guarded the secrets of its production under the pain of death. Such was the popularity of silk in Rome that massive imports built up an imbalance of trade and threatened the Roman economy.
The route started in Chang'an, the ancient Tang dynasty capital now known as Xi'an , and it's perfectly possible nowadays to follow part of the old Silk Road and witness scenes that have changed very little in the centuries that have passed since the route fell into disuse. Shipping and the discovery of seri-culture in Europe brought about the road's demise. For today's China travelers, the ultimate Silk Road destination is Kashgar, but in times past this five-month journey was just the first stage of the long road west.
The five-month journey can be done in a couple of weeks now, though it is an arduous trip. From Xi'an travel by train to Lanzhou , and from there take an Urumqi bound train to Liuyuan. Liuyuan is a 130-km(80-mile) bus journey from the first of the great Silk Road oasis towns, Dunhuang, where you can see some of China's most impressive Buddhist cave art and stay in a town surrounded by rolling sand dunes.
From Dunhuang you can either carry on by bus to Hami, another oasis town, famed for its melons, or return to Liuyuan and continue to Turpan by train. Turpan lies at the edge of the feared Taklamakan Desert , and for Silk Road traders marked the start of one of the most arduous sections of the entire route. A series of Buddhist cities once lay between Turpan and faraway Kashgar, but today they are ruins. Some of the ruins can be visited from Turpan. In the summer months they simmer under a ferocious sun, so hot that your guides will undoubtedly claim proudly that you can cook an egg on the broken doorstops and tumbledown walls. Even if the heat seems unbearable, try and linger a couple of days in Turpan. The local markets are fascinating and the grapes delicious.
The old towns of Kuqa and Aqsu, once important stops on the Silk Road , are now mere shadows of their former status; but whatever you do, try not to miss Kashgar, said to be the farthest town from the sea in the world, this city of mosques and kebabs and Middle Eastern fabrics is the quintessential Silk Road destination.
A Night at the Opera.
A night at the opera is not to be missed in China. It's noisy-ear-piercingly so at times- you won't have a clue as to what's going on. The stage is more often a bewildering blur of leaping figures clothed in impractical suits and fitted with hats that on close inspection are bordering on plain silly, but what a spectacle it all is. Like Japanese Kabuki and Thai Lakhon, Beijing opera and the various regional operas found across China are a stylized dance drama re-telling ancient legend.
The makeup can take a long time to apply; essentially, the performer is creating a mask of his or her face with greasepaint and a startling array of different sized brushes.
Backstage is a hive of activity, the performers hunched over mirrors, busily dusting and brushing away at their faces, while the stars of the show are hustled through their make-up routines by teams of fussing helpers, the people who take care of the elaborate costumes and the hairstyles. The result of all this work is that performers emerge god-like, reminiscent of the mythological figures who adorn Chinese temples, which is indeed the intention.
When it comes time to watch the performance, resist the impulse to make too much sense of the proceedings. Instead watch the way the actors interact with each other, and let a plot of sorts emerge in your imagination. Betrayal and revenge, mistaken identities and unrequited love, the great dramatic themes, all make an appearance. Because there are no props at all on an opera stage, every gesture and action must speak its object loudly, much in the way that mime does. An actor with a whip in his hand galloping around the stage is obviously riding a horse, the young beauty bashfully simpering behind a sleeve, is obviously embarrassed.
There's little fear of boredom. Performances are usually a medley of high points from the best of the opera tradition. Moments of high drama collide with swashbuckling action, where the stage comes alive with whirling, leaping fighters armed with spears and swords. There's something joyous about these noisy, acrobatic, dazzling events, so that even those who came prepared for the worst end up thundering their applause as the performance draws to a close.
An Army in Stone.
With several thousand years of history behind it, today's China must be a treasure trove of yet undiscovered archeological digs. The most famous discovery this century came about in 1974, when some Shaanxi peasants digging a hole for a well to provide much-needed water, uncovered a huge underground vault was found to contain over 1, 000 life-size terracotta figures, with an estimated further 7,000 figures still awaiting excavation.
Unwittingly the well-digging peasants had stumbled upon a vast stone army grouped in defense of the mausoleum of Qin Shihuang who, in 221BC, became the first leader of a unified China . Qin Shihuang achieved much, standardizing the written language and weights and measures, but the stone army you can see today near Xi'an says everything about his methods.
China's first emperor, the man who started work on the Great Wall, has passed into history as a tyrant, and is remembered more for his decrees that all books not written to the glory of the Qin dynasty be destroyed, than for his success in bringing the squabbling states of the time under a unified leadership.
The terracotta warriors, as Qin Shihuang's army has come to be known, is at its most impressive in Vault 1. The warriors are in situ and in battle formation, protected from the elements by a huge hangar. The only pity is that their hands ¨Cwhich once held real weapons-are now empty, most of the wooden sections of spears and bows having long ago rotted away.
As you stroll along the elevated walkways that take you through the military ranks, you'll be struck by the expressions and features of the faces. Some scholars have theorized that the faces may have been modeled on actual members of the imperial guard, an astounding thought when you consider that there are believed to be a total of 10,000 soldiers (including the groups in two other vaults). Each soldier's rank is displayed and the uniforms of knee-length protective tunics and armored tunics were once brightly colored. Note the soldier's hair, which is tied up in buns.
It's worth making several swoops around the Vault 1 hangar, picking up more details as you go. The other two vaults are smaller. Vault 2 comprises archers and charioteers, some of which are superbly executed. Vault 3 is speculated to have been the guard of honor, perhaps the leadership core of Qin Shihuang's army, leading the 10,000 into battle. Nowadays they are witness to daily skirmishes between the army staff and visiting tourists determined to surreptitiously break the no-photographs rule. The army in stone seem oblivious; their job is to defend an empire, after all.
All Roads Lead to Lhasa.
The Tibetan plateau, an area the size of western Europe, with altitudes that average around 3,600m ( 11,800ft ), is a place of nomads, villages and just one city worth the name, Lhasa . Tibetans in faraway Qinghai and Gansu provinces whisper the city's name with reverence. Villagers from hundreds of miles distant make that once in a lifetime pilgrimage to Lhasa on their bellies, measuring themselves on the ground every second step - and arrive months later, dusty, mantra-muttering, to prostrate their way around the cities holiest of holies, the Jokhang Temple.
The pilgrim circuit (kora) around the Jokhang is known as the Barkhor, and starts at Barkhor Square . With its magnificent views of the entrance to the Jokhang and its bustling market for pilgrim accessories (prayer wheels, prayer flags, leather padding for your knees and elbows, amulets and the like), it's easy to while an hour or so away here before joining the clockwise flow of faith around the temple. Note the alleys that disappear into markets selling Yak Cheeses and yak yogurt, the alfresco pool tables surrounded by pround Tibetan nomads, dressed to the nines in felt capes and sturdy boots, the muted colors of Tibetan carpets hung up against whitewashed walls. The tableau is medieval, apart from the pool tables, and in that sedately moving crowd of the faithful, a pilgrim several steps ahead climbing wearily to his feet from the cobblestones, you find yourself wondering how such a place could continue to survive to the very dawn of the twenty-first century.
When you finish your Barkhor Kora and find yourself back in front of the Jokhang, it's time to enter. Everything about this ancient temple dating from the 7th century, is otherworldly In the forecourt a steady stream of pilgrims prostrate themselves in front of the heavy curtains draped over the entrance. Inside you will see the four Guardian Gods, two on each side. Immediately the smell that belongs uniquely to Tibetan Temples strikes you. It is the smell of yak butter candles, an oily, sweet and sour odor so strong that, as your eyes adjust to the darkness, you will wonder if you haven't been plunged into another realm where the sense of smell reigns over that of sight.
In the ghostly candlelight follow the murmuring crowds, all muttering that holiest of mantras: Om mani padme hum, as they make a clockwise circuit of the Jokhang's many chapels, each enshrining a sacred image. Directly to the rear of the temple is Tibet's holiest sanctuary: a small chapel that houses Jowo Sakyamuni, the Lord Buddha aged 12. Stand back from the pilgrims and watch them filing in; each of them absorbed with devotion, their lips flickering repetitively, their fingers kneading at strings of prayer beads. They touch their foreheads to the leg of the boy Buddha and depart. This is as close to the heart of Lhasa as you can get.
Later, continue your exploration of the Jokhang to the roof, where you will find monks' quarters, soaring gilded eaves, walls painted in the muted reds and browns of Tibetan design. There, over the entrance, you have a sweeping view, the prostrating pilgrims directly beneath you, and beyond them Barkhor Square, and beyond the square, dominating the middle ground between the city and the distant snow capped mountains, the Potala, the palace of the Dalai Lamas.
All roads lead to Lhasa . As you stand with this scene spread before you, there is no doubting the reason.
Photo Gallery
heavily in its cuisine. Yak yoghurt, butter and cheese are frequently eaten, and well-prepared yoghurt is considered something of a prestige item. Butter tea is very popular to drink.
heavily in its cuisine. Yak yoghurt, butter and cheese are frequently eaten, and well-prepared yoghurt is considered something of a prestige item. Butter tea is very popular to drink.
 Hong Kong: tourists viewing the Business District at night. Photo. Martin Harvey The Chinese word for scenery is 'mountain water'. 'Do you like mountains or water?' A Chinese will ask. If you happen to like both, nowhere in China do the two meet so spectacularly as in Hong Kong. On July 1, 1997, 156 years of British colonial rule came to an end, and the tiny enclave of diehard capitalism, known as Hong Kong, rejoined the communist 'Motherland.' It rained through much of the lead-up to the handover, and, despite celebrity concerts, processions, parades and an extravagant fireworks show over Victoria Harbour , when the clock struck midnight, the crowds seemed puzzled about what to do next. Only one thing was certain, an era had come to an end. Background
The Chinese - who have a slogan for everything - say that Hong Kong and China equal 'one country, two systems.' The former colony is now the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region (HKSAR), and has been promised a high degree of autonomy and the freedom to continue its capitalist lifestyle for 50 years after 1997.
 It's easy to forget that historically Hong Kong was part of China . When the British annexed it in 1841, it was famously nothing but a 'barren rock.' Since then the colonial status of the island has reduced it in popular Western imagination, to a kind of 'Chinatown' writ large. If China is the Great wall, then Hong Kong is altogether more homey: junks in the harbor, joss smoldering in backstreet temp les, tiffin on the peak. If for 'British expats' Hong Kong was a home away from home, China was that place 'over the border.'
Nevertheless, Hong Kong is Chinese. The British got it as spoils of the first Opium War with China , an insult that has never been forgotten. From the beginning Chinese flooded in. They came first from Guangzhou ( Canton ) and the southern provinces fleeing famine and the harsh rule of the Manchu Qing dynasty; most of them with nothing to lose and thus, with thrift and hard toil, everything to gain. The colony's second major attribute, its nineteenth century British and European venture capitalists, were always a small minority. But what a combination those armies of opportunity-grabbing Chinese and dour, ledger-worshipping inheritors of an empire made. Hong Kong couldn't help but make money.
 It has never stopped making money. It probably does it better than anywhere else in the world. When the communist revolutionaries marched into Shanghai , the textile barons took their money and even their manufacturing equipment to Hong Kong , and the colony re-tooled, fattened and diversified. By 1966, Hong Kong was not only the main Southeast Asian trans-shipment point for Vietnam war materials - its harbor packed with freighters - but it was also one of the most popular R&R (rest and recreation) venues for the American troops.
By the mid-1970s Hong Kong was moving from trade, textiles and toys to trade, Internal Banking and Finance and electronics, and vastly improving its housing and public transport infrastructure. By the early 1980s it was obvious that a new China was emerging, a more pragmatic China that was prepared to leave ideology simmering on the back burner while it got its economy back in order.
In 1982, British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher visited Hong Kong for the first talks on the handover of the New Territories, whose lease was due to expire in 1997. In the event, Britain agreed to hand the whole lot back. The merchants of gloom have had a field day ever since.
Although it's still early days, one thing is obvious: The much-feared Anglo-Chinese agreement didn't sink the territory at all. If anything, Hong Kong gets more prosperous by the day. It is the jewel in the crown of the Pearl River delta - which includes Macau and southern Guangdong - one of the front-runners of the new wave of Asian economic tigers. It welcomes more than 11 million visitors a year, including over two million business travelers and package tourists from mainland China . The 'barren rock' of 150 years ago is now one the world's great cities. with photographs. They will be presented over a period of time, building a comprehensive record of a country which has experienced phenominal periods of civilisation and development. Alan Cooper. Caves... Climbers explore the murky abyss of 3,100ft deep underground shaft in China. This rocky chasm in China is one of the world's deepest underground shafts. It stretches down for an astonishing 3,100ft, or 1,026 metres. An international team of cave explorers who discovered the cave, near the village of Tian Xing, are seen descending into the abyss. The pictures were taken by photographer Robert Shone, 28, of Manchester, who spent two months with the climbers documenting-their explorations. More... EXTERNAL LINK: The world's most amazing caves Camping underground for four to five days at a time, the team were able to explore the extensive network of caves and tunnels.
  Photographer Robert Shone spent two months documenting the team's underground discoveries. Though unimaginably deep, the Chinese caves are actually dwarfed by others across the globe. The world's deepest cave is Krubera in Georgia, which is 6,822ft deep (2,080 metres), followed by Lamprechtsofen in Austria (5,354ft or 1,631 metres) and Gouffre Mirolda in France (5,335ft or 1,626 metres).
As an interesting comparison, the world's tallest peak, Mount Everest, is 29,029ft (8,848 metres) high.
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the northern border of his kingdom from invasion. The construction continued for centuries and employed the work of millions.
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