The hard sleeper to Dàtóng is surprisingly empty. Perhaps the craze of the masses has let off after the first day of holidays. There isn't much to do though. Just waiting out the six hour train ride to finally arrive around three in the city. After leaving my suitcase behind at 'left luggage' I look for a hotel and check into the first one I find. Can't be bothered traversing the city searching for a place to sleep with the suitcase whose third wheel is about to come off. f***ing fake s***!

After I quick shower I head back out back to the train station. There is a CITS - China Information Travel Service - office right next to it. I need to ask him what the best way is back to Beijing. It turns into something much more though. Firstly, he can speak English! How glad I am! I promptly book a tour with them to visit the two main sites in the area the day after and after hearing of my misfortune with the camera he even offers to take me to the repair shop. We hop on his motorbike, ride down the main street, past the blatantly obvious prostitute windows, and stop by a small shop. Of course, why not! I forgot my battery at the hotel in Bãotóu, so in all it'll cost me Y300 in repairs. Well, still better than no camera!

Back on the street I spot two tourists and practically run up to them. Finally, finally "normal" people I can communicate with. The couple, Austrians, just came from Mongolia and are equally happy to see a bloody tourist. Not much later we bump into an Italian and two Dutch guys. I guess the concentration of foreigners is higher in this city than up north. We promptly set up a dinner-date around eight and I head off with the Austrians - Jan and Dani - to get train tickets. Apparently they have connections so we could probably get proper tickets for onwards travel. The connection doesn't work out, so we decide to get tickets after dinner as right now it's a madhouse at the train station. You can book a maximum of five days beforehand and every able-bodied Chinese is standing in line to go back home after the holidays.

The five of us have a most delicious and filling dinner. The menu is in Chinese without any photographs so we just point around to what other people are eating. If before not every single person in the restaurant was looking at us, they surely are now. And laughing. Laughing at the strange foreigners :) Just like getting asked on the street "Why you not speak Chinese?" Do they honestly believe in asking this? Hmmpf... interesting... I hope not as I would hate to see these lovely people turn into the next 'Americans'. During dinner I hear stories from hell how all four of the people I met have spent hours finding a hotel to sleep in. Every single one was full. Tales about busses taking over six hours getting out of Beijing, about completely jammed highways in Inner Mongolia. I guess I was really lucky. Somehow I managed to miss most of this madness. Which I don't mind at all.

After looking around a bit in town in search for an ATM that actually works I go back to my hotel. The hot water doesn't work, even the cold one just drips. I can't be bothered. Fall onto bed exhausted and immediately fall asleep after setting the alarm for seven.

Full of energy I rush off to the repair shop only to have all my hopes shattered in an instant. He can't fix the camera and points to a bowl of water. I can only guess that my attempt at repairs wasn't the brightest of ideas. Damn. The only second-hand cameras that are for sale cost Y700-900, way too much for the last week. I sulk away. Pissed. Merde! Now I have to suck up to people ;)

The tour has the Italian guy, Matteo, a Dutch couple, Froukje&Peter and two locals. I make everyone promise to give me their pictures after the tour so I have something to show off later on. Asking them to take the accustomed many photographs of me is a bit too iffy, so I just settle for one/two at each attraction. Just proving that I was there.

We visit the Yungang Caves first. The sky is brilliantly blue, the sun at its prettiest and a shirt is enough to explore the grounds. Along with the masses of Chinese... *sigh*, I think I'm not getting rid of them while I am in China. The caves are hollowed out from the rock surface, each of them containing one or multiple Buddha's. Commissioned for worship, enforcement of legibility or penance they are pretty impressive. Especially knowing that the small upper hole each of these grottos has is the starting point. From there the artists chiselled their way inside, carving the magnificent statues and murals on the spot. Many of the caves depict scenes from the life of Buddha. I am very glad I took that 'Buddhism in South-East Asia' course a few years back. Most of the others in our group cannot relate or even understand the story. A bit off to the sides are small caves, built from donations of commoners. As I walk around with Matteo many take the perfect opportunity to take photos of us, the bolder even with us. We are still a curiosity, even though I can see other foreigners as well.

That Monday afternoon is the visit to the hanging monastery. Looks very, very great on all the pictures, however in reality? I just falls short of the disappointment that was Pak Ou Caves in Laos. About four buildings built onto the cliffs. Not even hanging. Not even supported by the tall vertical poles. But built safely on horizontally protruding beams. There isn't even anything of real interest inside. I might be the only one thinking so though, as the locals think otherwise. After half an hour of standing in line and moving along the outer edge of the balcony at a slug's rate it feels more like waiting for the main attraction at Disneyland than a place of worship. The really interesting thing were the people. How the crowd moves, it's dynamics, etc. But more about that later...

The monastery is set in a beautiful spot between two opposing rock faces. Our guide proudly tells us it is ideal for meditating. Only two hours of sun per day. I would beg to differ. The building is nice, but charging Y130 for this? Blasphemous!

I am left alone with Matteo to grab something for dinner. By pure chance we end up in a hotpot restaurant where the manager speaks some English. Two other foreigners have just entered as well according to her and I promptly set off finding them so we might share dinner. Turns out to be a very good idea and the four of us enjoy a luxurious hotpot dish. But! They've done what I want to do tomorrow. Go to the deserted Big Wall not far from here and look around. Emily and Charles are very friendly, give me lots of tips, even a hand-drawn map and a small piece of paper with some Chinese magic scribbled on it.

The next day I stock up on water and snacks and take bus #8 out of town. That by itself is an adventure as I need to ask around monkey-style where this #8 is, and the ticket collecting girl even kicks me out the first time I enter as the bus is not going to the wall. I persist and just sit down. Unfortunately - not like yesterday - there is nobody on the bus speaking English and I forgot to ask the Canadians how long the ride approximately takes. A bit nervous I fish out the magic blue scrabble given to me by Charles and the whole bus joins in on the discussion. The old woman keeps talking Chinese to me, as if I can understand anything. Thanks to the explanations of the previous night I think I know where to get off. Even if I didn't know, I practically got thrown off by everyone on the bus at the village of Jíning.

This is rural China. People spread the grain-harvest on the main street and beat out the seeds. Women hurry back and forth the with vegetables, daily pickings, etc. Really nice village life. And as I walk past every eye turns, I can practically feel their curious looks. Not many people pass through here. I barely start walking when a local offers me an unasked ride in this car and after a few minutes ferries me across the river. I start the big hike. Up and down green hills past what I can only suppose are the remains of the Great Wall. Finally making my way up to the plateau in the scorching sun the wall decides to give up all its secrets. Its snaking, serpentine-like body goes off into the distance, the fine line only interrupted with watchtowers at set intervals. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Not exactly what I was expecting as only the mud/earthen inner core remains. The rest has been taken by farmers for their own use. But still unique. Nobody around for miles. I only wish I could share it with someone...

For lunch I conquer one of the watchtowers, disturbing the feeding place of a buzzard. The "summit" is filled with bones of small birds, rodents. I go on for a little bit more, but around two turn back towards the village. The last bus is said to leave at 16:30; definitely don't want to miss that. I friendlily got kicked out of a construction site I wonder on to. "This", the owner making a big gesture with both hands "is my construction site. Mine." he tells me. "I see you this morning." "Knew it was trouble.", and theatrically waves his hands around. "Follow me. I show you out." "This is not good for me". Well, excuse me...

A motorbike offers to take me over the river and as I wait for the bus, local children come up to me, touch my arm, pull at my body-hair and a mother is shamelessly standing a few meters away, her Sony Handycam turned to "REC". He. Fine. I don't mind.

It is now a bit after nine in the evening. I spent hours exploring the city after arriving back, eating every kind of snack that was sold on the streets. Including cooked applets with caramel coating, saslik, hotdog, hotpot, chestnuts and baked potatoes. Chinese version. Right now I am sitting at the station waiting hall finding an empty seat after fifteen minutes of waiting. The train is not leaving for another hour, but already the queue snakes back all the way to the entrance. You - the Chinese - are a really strange people. There is no concept of a line, of a queue. People just cut in from the sides and as the gates open I only watch in awe.

The line starts moving, men, women with little or no luggage rush to the front of the queue, climb over the guardrails and just push others out of the way. Everyone is pushing, yelling, grunting, one, two, three cuts are made. This is pure chaos. I pity the person standing in the back patiently waiting his turn. China is still the right of the strongest. And I pity myself for in this chaos I will have to find a place to survive the next six hours to Beijing. What the hell are you people travelling for? You still f***ing have three more days of vacation!