Taishan.

Upon arrival in Taishan we have directions to the hostel by bus, so we negotiate our way past the drivers hollering at us to get in their taxi and aim for the bright lights of the road, but see no obvious bus stop. Curses. What follows next is an hour or so of traipsing around trying to get someone to understand us and the most hopeless feelings of despair I have yet felt on this trip - one day we will surely look back on this and laugh….

It's dark and bloody cold. There's no signage and certainly none in English. As buses pull up to the bus stop we've finally found, I jump on and point to the directions and address I've got written down, but they all shake their heads muttering "bu dong" - they don't understand. The same thing happens with taxis, so we head back to the train station and Katy notices what looks like a small hotel - surely they can speak a few words of our language…..

To my complete lack of surprise the young female receptionist doesn't understand the address I've got written in large capital letters - the written form of speaking S-L-O-W-L-Y and C-L-E-A-R-L-Y, but something works because she phones the number and scribbles something down in Chinese. "XieXie" - shye-shye, "thankyou" I smile and try our luck with a taxi again. He drives us across town and deposits us at a crossroads. This is no help - we're still lost and have no idea where we are. There are no street signs and we have no map. I follow a line of traffic to a street that appears to have plenty of pedestrians walking up it, and praise the Lord! There, a few yards up the road is a sign pointing to our hostel. Sweet relief…

The reason we're here is to walk up a mountain. Not yet having had our fill of exceedingly long treks and adventures on precipitous slopes, we thought we'd do one last walk up what is by all accounts the holiest of holy mountains in China. Anyone who's anyone has been climbing this sacred mountain since before Confucius in the 6th century BC.

Having been told that the skies would be overcast, we didn't bother to get up extra early to watch the sunrise, but instead wrapped ourselves heavily against the biting cold and set off to the 'Dai Temple' at about 8:30am. We circumvented the traditional starting point of the trek and went straight to the 'Daizong Archway' some metres behind the temple. From here we walked up the gradually sloping road past rows of smart eateries, shops and hotels until we reach the 'Red Gate' and paid our entry fee. From here the uneven paved path leads you through pine covered hillsides, the slope rising gradually by short flights of steps past village dwellings and numerous shops and stalls aimed squarely at the thousands of tourists, foreign and Chinese alike, who flock to this mountain every year.

As we wind our way up the ever steeper steps, groups of Chinese youngsters race past us, stopping to take pictures of themselves at a stele (an inscribed stone tablet), a gate or small temple before racing on to holler loudly from their new vantage point high above us. It was quite clear from early on that this was not going to be the tranquil pilgrimage we might have hoped for…

By the time we get to the 'Halfway Gate To Heaven' we have passed or been passed by scores of people huffing and puffing their way up the steps and both of us have stripped off at least one or two layers. My Red Bull T-shirt has caught the eye of a large Chinese man dressed in bright red puffa jacket and baseball cap - he asks to have his photo taken with me.

"I'm from Red Bull" he puffs excitedly in broken English, pointing at the famous logo by way of explanation.

This is the first of many such occasions as we ascend the mountain - it transpires that there is a whole group of overweight Chinese from the famous brand here on a team building exercise or something. It gets quite comical as every time we pass a group of out of breath fellow walkers dressed in Red Bull livery, they ask to have their photo taken with me. It certainly makes a pleasant change from the rest of the people we pass who stare at us with what we imagine to be looks of "what are THEY doing here?!?" and mutters of disgust.

The steps continue getting steeper and steeper as they wend their way up the spectacular mountainside passing more important temples, stelae, gates and massive boulders inscribed with ancient script. We reach the summit around lunchtime and are seated at a secluded spot away from the crowds by 2pm, munching on some leftover rice and admiring the misty views across the valley. The last half hour or so up the more than 6500 steps required such self-motivation that we have not needed to employ for a long time - willing leaden legs to just climb, just one step at a time whilst the muscles in our legs screamed in protest.

The freezing wind soon cuts through us, so we don't linger for too long at the peak and make our way back through the tourist village and begin our descent.

It would appear that most normal people get the bus or cable car as we see very few other people during our 3 hour walk back down the giant stone staircase.

There is nothing else to detain us in Taishan, so we leave the next day amid a brief panic trying to get a taxi to the train station. We flag one down and watch the roads anxiously hoping that we've left in good time to catch our train to Shanghai. The taxi driver drags out a 3 block journey which could have been done in 10 minutes - we realise that we were within easy walking distance to the hostel and could've done it in the time that we were wandering around all stressed when we arrived. The things you learn…..

The end is nigh.....in Shanghai.

It's a long and slow train journey to Shanghai that leaves us plenty of time to think about our trip and contemplate our future ahead of us.

We're both feeling desperately unhappy since arriving in China and were it not for our joy following the proposal we'd be feeling even worse. The complete lack of English - even in hostels, the rudeness of the man in the street, the constant retching and spitting, the never-ending stares and the absolute bitter freezing cold create such a feeling of hostility and alienation leaving us feeling overwhelmingly exhausted both mentally and physically. Had we done this differently and come here either in summer or at the start of the trip, we may feel slightly better about China, but as it stands we feel we have definitely not seen it at it's best and we're both counting down the days to our departure.

Getting to the hostel via the Shanghai metro is pleasantly easy and we're relieved to notice that as we're so much further south, the weather is still cold, but considerably warmer than what we have been used to in the past few weeks. For dinner that evening we decide that we have both had enough of slippery, unidentifiable exotic cuisine so opt for some slippery, unidentifiable 'KFC' cuisine instead.

We'd arranged to meet Lisa - the girl we met in Datong - but in true Dean and Katy style we are late meeting her (err - there was also confusion with wrong mobile numbers - not entirely our fault? - Katy), so after waiting for a while we finally give up and make our own way to 'Yuyuan Gardens and Bizarre' to try some shopping, as that is what Shanghai is only really good for. We stop in at the 'City God Taoist Temple' before meandering through the touristy streets full of shops selling the usual carvings, paintings, weaves, nik-naks and other pointless objects to stop at one to haggle for a China tea-set.

There are some interesting antique and curio shops along 'Old Street', but there's too much to tempt us so we leave empty handed. We find a ring in a jeweller that we both admire and leave feeling happy that we'd found something that we both like.

Later on, we ask at the hostel for restaurant recommendations -

"McDonalds or KFC? I think you don't like Chinese food…." he presumes, smirking to himself.

What an insult - we eat at local places all the time! Anyway, we'd been to KFC last night……..

We end up at a diner type affair where the menu was entirely in Chinese script, so we pointed at a couple pf pictures and sat down on the grubby plastic seats and watched a couple next to us having an argument. The food arrived - a plate of pak-choi and mushrooms, and a chicken in a sauce of some sort. The food was nice, but the chefs don't bother with de-boning or filleting anything - they just hack through it, so we're constantly trying not to choke on tiny little pieces of chicken bone.

On the way home the silent electric scooters insist on driving at pedestrians as they cross at a green man, and speeding at you from the wrong direction or even on the pavement, sneaking up in the dark without lights. Truly infuriating…

Near People Square the next day, we approach a small discreet building identified in our guidebook and join the queue and follow the lead of the people ahead of us. We order and pay for dumplings, soup and noodles from one window, then join another line in front of an adjacent window to collect our food. The 2nd window looks into a narrow kitchen with 5 workers busily preparing, frying and serving the fried dumplings that this particular establishment is famous for. I hand my tickets to the surly skinny chef and he plates me up 4 of the fried balls. Everyone else has been getting 6 - I'm sure I paid for 6 - there were 2 options, 4 or 6 - I definitely paid for 6…..I attempt to protest but he blurts something from behind his face-mask that I can't understand, points at the ticket and waves me away. We try another window that faces out from another small kitchen inside and again get waved away - no idea what's going on. En route upstairs after helping ourselves to a small bag of dark dipping sauce a waitress grabs the tickets from my hands, nods in understanding and indicates for us to take a seat. The plastic tables and chairs are filled with locals slurping, snorting and belching their way through plates of 6 dumplings. Within minutes the waitress returns with 2 steaming bowls of broth which she dumps down in front of us. Other diners arrive upstairs, filling the few remaining seats. All are carrying plates of 6 dumplings.

We leave as soon as we're finished having decided on a walking route and walk back towards People Square trying to forget about being cheated at 'Yangs Fry Dumplings'.

The park around People Square is surrounded by skyscrapers and shorter, but equally substantial buildings that manage to make you feel tiny. Everything is grey. China is grey. The sky is grey from clouds and smog. The buildings - old and new - are in various shades of grey. The people dress in dour dark shades. The only splashes of colour seem to come from the paper red lanterns that hang from shops, the kites fluttering through the sky or from children playing in the park.

The 'Paris of the East' has been a world financial market for many hundreds of years, yet all the buildings are new and shiny - a visual flex of Chinas growing economic muscle. As such, there are no real sights to see - just shops. We wander through the French Concession area of the city which has some pretty old buildings, but these days they are home to fashionable boutiques that bear a striking resemblance to Spitalfields.

We re-join the subway to Dashijie to try Dim-Sum at a restaurant recommended in the guidebook. We find the place located down a short side street full of similar looking establishments, all offering similar looking food under bright neon signage. An elderly chap flashes us the menu, points at a picture that resembles dim-sum and quickly snaps the page shut before we can examine further. A bamboo steamer soon arrives with little doughy balls that I'm sure aren't what we were after, but they're very tasty anyway. They eat early in China and the place looks like it's closing up even though it's only half 9, so we walk back to the subway via indulging in some over-priced ice cream.

The last day of our travels is spent near the Bund area of the city. It's quite late in the day so we head through the under-water tunnel and it's supremely tacky theme park ride to the Pudong New Area. This side of the Huangpu River is full of fancy tall buildings that tower above you and every other building in the world, and are mostly glass fronted edifices apart from the 'Oriental Pearl Tower' that looks like something a child had drawn after being asked what sort of buildings we'd be living in come the year 2020. Every building though has its own quirky design characteristics that give them a 'personality' to make them resemble a motley collection of 'Star Wars' androids.

The tallest building here is the 'World Finance Centre' - a striking construction that resembles a giant bottle opener. We follow the signs and the softly spoken staff to find the elevator which soars effortlessly to the ear-popping heights of the 94th floor, where more ushers dressed head-to-toe in pastel shades point the way silently to the 100th floor. We were hoping to catch the sunset, but the smog lays a thick blanket of haze over the entire horizon, so we're left watching it get dark instead. The reflective surfaces of the top floor make it look like an exceptionally high hall of mirrors - the holes in the floor allow you to see all the way down to the twinkling lights of rush hour traffic below. It's gloomy in the room and there is a lack of information that makes us think that Sky Tower in Auckland was a much better experience all round.

Our final morning is a rushed blur of checking out, fighting for space amongst the morning commuters on the subway and an express line that makes a painfully slow journey to the airport whilst our boarding time rapidly approaches. We rushed to the bag drop desk ten minutes after it had closed glad that we checked in online the night before; and pass painlessly through security to immigration and arrive at the boarding gate in plenty of time.

The flight was a long 12 ½ hours that passed pleasantly enough - the only irritation being the large Chinese guy in front of me who insisted on slamming his chair back and bouncing around, fidgeting constantly and knocking my food and drinks everywhere. At one point, I considered our onward movements for when we land. A few seconds pass before I realise that this isn't necessary - we're going home! No more focussed daily planning, no more hostel booking, no more language difficulties - trying to understand or be understood, no more concentration and preparation for arriving in a new village/town/city/country and remembering taxi or bus locations, street layouts, hostel directions, determining which eateries we think we can successfully order at, no more obtrusive stares, loud spitting and rude people.

At Heathrow T5 we clear immigration (no more visas!) and baggage claim swiftly to walk out to the arrivals hall and a sea of faces waiting expectantly, bearing placards and craning their necks to see who's emerging next. We're looking out for Katy's mum when suddenly a loud whistle and "Oi-oi!" causes us to turn around to see 4 people waving - that look like us? The masks are lowered and Katy's family rush round to greet us with hugs, smiles and handshakes. What a wonderful welcome home!

What an amazing time we've had, but it's good to be back. Thanks to all our family and friends for the support, Dragonfly and Strongroom for funding the Skydive in New Zealand, Katys family and friends who have put us up and all the lovely people we met along the way. I'm sure we'll continue to bore you dear reader with many more stories and photos when we next see you in person!

Right, now it's time to find a job I suppose....

Lots of love, Dean and Katy x