The cleaner knocked on the door just as Mikey came out of the shower and took a lot of dissuading to leave us alone for twenty minutes to get dressed. We set of almost early this morning in an attempt to find a less touristy part of the Great Wall of China than the normal areas. We accidently bought about ten pounds of fruit from a local stall and then got on a local bus for local people. We had the last two seats, right at the back, and then the bus set off. It is impossible to pronounce Chinese based on the pinyin in our guidebook so we had no real way of knowing if this bus was going the way we wanted it to, but the lady who later sold us the bus tickets seemed to think it would, so we trusted her. The bus quickly took us out of the built up areas and into a much more rural part of town. There were more fields and forests of red-leaved trees here, and old men with baggy trousers held up with string. After about an hour we reached the town of Huairou and lots of people got off. The bus stopped a few more times and the numbers on board were dwindling so much that the ticket lady came to ask us where we wanted to go. We tried to pronounce both the name of the town and the place where the wall was (Huanghuacheng) and eventually she nodded and sat down. A bit later the bus sounded its horn, the lady told us to get off and another lady, with a minibus, came running up to collect us. She took us on the 40-minute trip to the wall. No problem!

Along the way we saw loads of old men on older bikes laden with maize leaf bundles about eight feet tall, and loads of donkeys pulling carts. There was also a car on its side across the road and an old man under a bike with a bus and a car stopped either side of him. The road to the wall was a really rustic one, lined with tall trees and with fields all round. It was misty and there were bonfires and pigs in baskets and very autumnal.

The wall, when we got there, was stunning, and in very good condition. It looked like all the bits you see on television, just without the tourists. There were bits of the wall on both sides of the road, both going up hills, and it snaked over the countryside like a big snake. The minibus lady said she'd wait for us, and postcard sellers followed us, and then we were standing on a dam in a reservoir and on our own.

We walked along the path a bit because the wall itself was too crumbly, and a man on a chair stopped us and asked us to pay an entry fee. It was a bit dubious as he had no identification, there were no signs and the tickets he gave us in return looked like they were hand-made, but it wasn't expensive so we didn't mind. A few hundred feet later a lady asked for payment for the upkeep of a very rickety set of metal stairs that would take us up to the wall. Again we didn't object. We climbed up and had a gorgeous view and found ourselves of a well-reconstructed wall complete with guard towers, arrow slits and rustic-looking battlements. It actually seemed a bit unreal, as it was all clean and new and we had it all to ourselves. We took a lot of photos and then staggered up the ridiculous incline - it just wasn't possible to stand upright on some of the steep areas!

We encountered a bunch of Californians who greeted us like long-lost friends and then we got to a guardhouse. A man was busy sweeping a very clean area of steps and he looked up as we approached and barred the way. He pointed to a sign in Chinese that had "50 yuan" as the only discernable feature. He wanted to charge us for using his steps. By this time we were convinced that all these tickets were a sham, and this one gave it away - all the others had asked for one or two yuan, not fifty! Although it was only about ?.50, we were reluctant to pay because it was so obviously a scam. He had nothing official-looking about him at all. While we were standing there thinking, two American girls turned up. They ignored the man and his sign and he chased up the wall after them, beating the air and ground with his broom and bringing them back level with us. They tried to draw us into it but we were having fun watching and just shrugged. They said that they were told not to pay any fees and tried to walk past him but he was remarkably quick and agile! He didn't understand a word they were saying but knew that they didn't intend to pay, so he started bargaining with them and in the end they offered two yuan each and walked on regardless. That paved the way for us, and he barely acknowledged us, but made a point of complaining about how walkers were ruining the brickwork - by chiselling off bits of the paving with his broom.

With the sun and the climbing it got quite warm, but it was tempered with an icy breeze, especially at the top. When we got to the highest part in the area and stopped to admire the view and have lunch (which included a packet of Cadbury's chocolate hula hoop-type crisps), another group of backpackers came down past us. They warned us that the ticket lady in the next guardhouse was very feisty and would stand for no nonsense. I think this encouraged the two girls because before we left we heard shrieking and thumping and distant screams, for about five minutes. We didn't find out who won! Just before we descended, we approached the guardhouse. The ticket lady was there in the window, eating an apple. As she saw us, she started sweeping. I went up to the doorway and took a photo, and then turned back and walked down the hill again with Mikey. The shrill sounds of her disappointment filled the air. (As an aside, the lower ticket man had gone by the time we got back, and so had his sign. There was a small box of the things he'd been sweeping, which made us think that it was more a prop than an actual job.)

Back at the reservoir we ran the gauntlet of souveneir and postcard sellers and were accosted by the women who reminded us that we had promised that we'd buy from them. We'd actually said, "Maybe on the way back," but the distinction seemed to be lost on them. Our minibus lady was waiting for us and we were chased for a moment by a lady trying to force-feed Mikey peanuts, and then we were on our way back to the town and the bus. We ended up back at the bus station as it was dark.

We took the metro into town again and managed to print out the helpful Chinese that Jake's been emailing me (finally!) and then went on a hunt of supper. The idea was to find a restaurant that looked like it might have a particular dish that Jake recommended, but it was hard to tell. After a brief stop at a pharmacy to pick up some medicated bandages for our combined Backpackers' Limbs (Mikey's knee and my shoulder) we found a nice-looking place and were shown to a very large table. The menu was extensive so we showed them the Chinese for a dish called "ants on trees". A brief conference among the waiting staff ensued, they disappeared into the kitchen and then reappeared to tell us that the chef could make the food for us. We ordered a couple of other things too. Three huge plates of food arrived, including something called hot and sour potatoes which I though was the epitome of Chinese food and was the smell of just about everywhere we've been in Hong Kong and China where people have been cooking. Ants on trees was lovely: pork and noodles, a bit like a stew but without the sauce. Very tasty. As the only Westerners in the place, our order recieved a lot of attention from the other diners, and at one point seven waiters stood around our table to watch us eat. I still keep getting the broken chopsticks that drop the food all the time, and, like walking down a corridor, eating is very hard with an audience!

Shortly after we'd started, two Swedish girls came in. They demanded a non-smoking table which made us laugh, and the waitress assured them that they wouldn't have to smoke at that table. A few minutes later the waitress came up to us and indicated that the girls wanted to talk to us. "We want to look at your food," they said, quite abruptly, and then, to the waitress, "Yes, we'll have all three," which, of course included a dish not on the menu. It wouldn't surprise me to see that "ants on trees" becomes a permanent fixture on the English version of the menu sometime!

A little later, a Chinese lady, about 40 years old, approached the table and asked if she could sit down. She asked us the normal questions such as our age and nationality and how good we thought her English was, and then she said that she had won a et that she and her friend had had. She had said that we were from England, and therefore won 200 yuan. And before she could claim the prize she had to come and talk to us. Her friend arrived and asked, through her, if he could shake our hands as friends, and then expressed pleasure that Mikey was drinking beer. "All handsome men drink beer," explained the lady. She said that I was beautiful and Mikey was handsome, and that we were both lovely people and she had made new friends and she wanted to make sure that we would return to China sometime. Then she left. All this had drawn quite a crowd of waiters and customers.

As we finished our meal, a little girl on the next table, accompanied by her parents, asked permission to practice English with us. She was only about seven years old, but spoke beautifully and very clearly. She introduced her parents to us, and then her mother asked if we'd mind having our photo taken with the girl. We obliged, and as they left the restaurant, the girl shook our hands and wished us a pleasant travel in China. Which was a very entertaining way to end a day!