Riding the bullet train from Suzhou to Beijing

We are travelling from Suzhou to Beijing by bullet train. A bullet train flashes past as we approach the station. Its shape, speed and roar are more jet plane than train. It's cool.

The station is vast and new and like all bullet train stations, on the edge of town. Downstairs is a cavernous assembly hall and today in Suzhou, it is packed. The feeling is more airport than train station. The two platforms are above and gates admit us when our train is ten minutes out. Our tickets specify our seats and the platform marks where our carriage will stop.  It does, exactly, when it glides in, a shiny, slick cylinder. Our neat queue files in. The train has travelled from Shanghai and is fullish. The seats are large, spread out recliners with lots of leg room, aircraft style table, powerpoint, two places to hang things and overhead storage big enough for our suitcases, although it takes two of us to hoist them up there.

We settle in. Kids snooze and watch shows, we chat and look outside. Syl takes in a series on her iPad. A steady procession of service staff bring complimentary snack pack and water, then coffee, beer and food for sale.

In two minutes we are away. A minute later, we have smoothly accelerated to this machine's warp speed, 299km per hour. We will hover around there for the next five hours, covering about 1300 km. We stop six times, each time in identical, vast, modern stations. 

In between, we glide above the countryside, our track atop massive pylons. Life goes on under and around us and my early thoughts of colliding with blue buses on crossings or errant stock evaporate. 

The landscape is a human one - we are never out of sight of farmed land, houses or cities. Europe without the church steeples. As we roll northwest, it chills and we see snow on the ground and frozen rivers.

We can't help thinking how fantastic it would be to have a service like this linking Melbourne, Canberra, Sydney and Brisbane. That would link perhaps thirteen million people. For comparison, Hugh and I do the maths for our China route. The end points, Shanghai and Beijing total 45 million. We add the cities we stopped at. We lose interest when we count more than 100 million people! 

Centrally planned states unburdened by industrial arrangements, land title, planning permission and so on can certainly get things done that our politicians can only dream of. But putting aside the nightmare that would be building this track in Australia, I suspect the numbers just don't stack up. But if ever they do, please let the Chinese build it!

And I can guarantee that all of us will use it over flying. Give us the plain, the jain, anyday!

Is the real China on main street or one block back?

The main streets of Shanghai and Beijing are slick and modern. Shrines to commerce and retail, they are dotted with the west's symbols of conspicuous consumption. Starbucks, KFC, Zara, Dior, Rolex and H&M jostle for attention alongside the Banks of China, Beijing and Shanghai. Beemers and Mercs slide past with impenetrably tinted glass. It all feels very familiar in a same,same, but different, sort of way.

Step one block back from Main Street and you enter a different world. The roads narrow, traffic thins and bikes and cycles prevail. The pedestrian throng thins to a trickle. Washing drapes unblushing from windows, in company with coiled lengths of red pork sausage and drying, gutted fish. People squat in doorways over pots and produce. Kids meander under the watchful eye of grandparents. Old folk, rugged up, turn to the wintery sun. Whiffs of steaming stock, pongy drains and spice catch the nose. Cats lounge on window sills and rough, short-legged brown dogs circle, hackle and scratch. 

So which is the real China? Both are, of course. And for now, they seem to sit cheek by jowl without a fuss. In the long run? Main Street wins, always.

Some tourist traps are the best fun

I'd like to be able to use Caity and Hugh as the excuse for doing tacky, touristy stuff on holidays. But even if that was true once, they are way too old to be scapegoats any more. The fact is, some of the tackiest, touristy stuff we do in new places is also really enjoyable. Why? Well, its focussed on what's good and distinctive about the place, it's delivered by practiced (ok sometimes jaundiced) folk and no one takes it too seriously. So it can be great. Sometimes, of course, it can also be excruciating. We've had one of each so far.....let me start with the excruciating!

It is New Years Day, a public holiday in Suzhou, a little town of 4 million. We are to ride rickshaws through the old town, a watery wonderland dubbed the 'Venice of the east' (yes, I know, there are quite a few Venices of the east. Just squint a little). The concept is good. Unfortunately, every Chinese tourist within 100 km is quietly walking the narrow streets of old Suzhou as our groaning, puffing convoy of clapped out rickshaws, overflowing with wide-beamed westerners ( I shall pay for this acute observation), plunge into the throng. With our panting peddlers hurling abuse at the bemused pedestrians, we make painfully slow progress, wedging people against houses and each other as we grind past. We are too embarrassed to even look at, let alone enjoy, the spectacle of old Suzhou. Indeed, we are the spectacle! We are the tourist attraction!

On the same day, we had the opposite experience. We visited Tongli water town, a beautiful old village with delightful canals, cobbled paths, ancient buildings and World Heritage listed gardens. There were Chinese tourists about, but no crowds. We were a pale-faced novelty, especially the flaxen haired women, who were stopped and photographed alongside giggling Chinese. Even my brother was asked for photos. I think they thought he was Rolf Harris, Hugh thinks Rex Hunt. Rich is surprisingly put out by both suggestions.

It too, is dubbed 'Venice of the East'! And we got into a boat that was remarkably reminiscent of a gondola, in a Chinese sort of way and were paddled around an exquisitely beautiful village by our Chinese gondolier. She (yes, never in Venice!) even had to duck under some stone bridges. Along the way, we watched a woman slaughter and pluck a chicken at the water's edge, saw fishing cormorants in action and waved and ni hao'd lots of people on the bank. Was it touristy? In the extreme. Was it a delight? You bet!