Locked out of iCloud

UPDATE: It seems tweeting and posting about it might have worked. Within a few hours of tweeting my blog to Tim Cook, Phil Schiller and every Apple journalist I could think of, engineering called me, took a ton of security info and fixed the problem right away. Not sure if it was just Katerina in support finally getting through to them or my tweeting worked, but just glad to be clear! Since the issue is now resolved, I've removed all the account details and info from this post.

For six weeks, I have been completely locked out of the Apple ecosystem. I'm writing this post in the (probably vain) hope that I can get someone's attention at Apple enough to have my issue paid enough attention if I distribute it around. I know it's a long shot, but I'm desperate at this point. Let me describe the issue.

Starting in early November, I started having login issues with my iCloud account (account id [REDACTED]). Initially, this was limited to the web interface at icloud.com only. I wasn't able to log in at all through the web; all I would see was the spinning loading icon (though I could go into the account setting pages, just nowhere else). I could log onto the AppleID management page at appleid.apple.com and change things around, it was just the icloud.com suite of services that wasn't working.

I rang Apple Support, and they indicated that it looked like the log in wasn't completing, it never actually finished logging on, which is why I saw the spinning icon. They suggested I try on different devices and different network, none of which made any difference. They then suggested I change my password, which I did (again, to no success). Then the problem started getting worse.

The first escalation in the issue I had was that my iOS devices (iPhone and iPad) would periodically make me sign back in. That was annoying, but the sign in worked. Then all of a sudden, on the 8th of November, nothing worked. I couldn't log in. Not on my iMac, my iPhone, my iPad, or my work PC running Windows. I was locked out. I rang Apple support again. By this time, I had been bumped to senior support, who weren't able to diagnose the problem beyond the fact that there was something odd where it seemed to be trying to use two-factor authentication (TFA), which didn't have enabled (I'd turned it off after a different issue that prevented me logging in back in June, but which was resolved in a day or two).

That was six weeks ago. I am still unable to log into any iCloud/AppleID services, other than appleid.apple.com and the account settings page on icloud.com. That's it. I've been completely cut off, not only from my primary email, but from my entire Apple-based digital ecosystem. If I try my newly-updated password, I get an incorrect password error; if I try the old one, I simply get "An unknown error occurred" (on iOS I get a message about verification that senior support said I should only ever see if I had TFA turned on, which I don't. I can access appleid.apple.com without issue using the new password.

Now, those of you who know me, know that I'm a long-standing Apple guy. My family's first Mac was a 512K in 1987; my own personal first brand-new Mac was an LC475 a few years later. I have spent about £5000 this year on Apple gear: a 5K i7 iMac, an iPhone X 256GB and an AppleTV 4th gen (not counting the iPad Air 2 I got a year or two ago). Every one of these devices is connected to the rest-I stream video back and forth, link my iMessages, share photos between devices, use AirDrop and Continuity, etc. I am wholly embedded in Apple's ecosystem to an extent that I currently find alarming given the circumstances.

It is bad enough to lose access to my primary email, an address I have had for over fifteen years. It's worse to lose access to it at a time when I was job searching and that address was on dozens of CVs. It's worse to lose it when I'm contacting architects about major building work and they all have that address. It's worse when that address is the login email for hundreds or thousands of website. That's all horrible and incredibly frustrating. But it doesn't stop there. Being locked out of my iCloud account means I also can't do the following:

• Update any of the apps, including paid ones, on my iMac
• Update some of the apps on my iPhone or iPad (most were bought with [REDACTED-different account] but not all)
• Call my parents, who live overseas, via FaceTime on my iPad or iMac
• Log into my AppleTV to access shows, account info, etc.
• Restore my iPhone to default (I restored my iPhone X from an iTunes backup of my 5s, so it’s semi-logged in but can’t authenticate, but now can’t be erased unless I enter the password)
• Use ApplePay on my brand new iPhone X
• Retrieve my photos stored on iCloud
• Retrieve my documents stored on iCloud (including my latest CV which I built in Pages)
• Sync my iMessages between devices, or send ANY iMessages at all from my iMac or iPad
• Add iBooks to my iPad (or iMac or iPhone)
• Download my old emails onto my iPhone (they’re stored locally on my iMac but not on the new iPhone)
• Upgrade to High Sierra (who knows if it’ll go over OK if I can’t sign into my iCloud account?)
• Just generally use any of the Apple services

Right now, I am seriously considering whether having this many eggs in one basket is a sound strategy. If I were locked out of my Facebook account, it would be a pain, but I could setup a new account if needs be. I'd inevitably miss some people off my friends list and I'd lose my account history for a few apps/sites that I use Facebook for as a login (e.g. Strava), but it wouldn't be the end of the world. My Amazon or Google accounts would similarly be seriously annoying to lose access to, but not catastrophic. But not being able to get into my Apple account is truly crippling my digital life.

So I now have to think quite seriously about whether I'd be better off with an Android phone and an Amazon TV device. Would I better to spread the risk across multiple ecosystems and live with the frustrations around interoperability while decreasing the chance that I'd ever be locked out of everything. I'm not saying Google, Amazon or Facebook are more or less likely to have this same issue, but spreading my digital life across these different ecosystems would reduce my dependency on any one of them.

I don't want to do that. I really, genuinely like my Apple gear and think it's best-in-class, and I'm happy to pay the premium for what I consider to be a premium experience. But six weeks is a frankly unacceptable amount of time to be so fundamentally constrained from digital services, many aspects of which I have paid good money for, and on devices for which I have paid very good money. Apple's ethos is that "it just works" and that takes an amazing orchestration of hardware, software, services and support, and normally, it does just work. But when it doesn't, it is incredibly limiting and incredibly frustrating.

As I say, I'm writing this in the hope that someone can help me escalate this at Apple. It's currently with the engineering team, but I think maybe it needs to be moved to a more senior engineering team. I worry with the holidays approaching that any focus that is there will be lost. I was getting daily updates from a lovely senior support engineer at Apple named Katerina, but she went on vacation for a week or so, and I've not heard back from her in the three days since she's been back. I really need to be kept in the loop about what's going on, and I really need this to be escalated to someone that can solve the problem. Six weeks is far too long-if this doesn't get resolved by the holidays, it will end up passing the two month mark, and I will be looking for a refund on my iPhone X purchase at least, as it cannot perform without access to my iCloud account. Setting up a new one isn't an option as it would require me to update everyone with a new email address and I would lose all my app and media purchases. Apple provides this service, and they need to make this work.

If you are reading this and have any ability to help it get prioritised with Apple's engineers, I'm begging you to please help! The case ID is [REDACTED]. Please someone, anyone, help me get this fixed! If you can help me achieve this in any way, big or small, please do. Thank you for reading.

The EU: Too Big to Bail

I haven't written here for a very long time. This is for a number of reasons: the blog had become largely about Electra's health and keeping people informed. When she passed, it was harder to write. Then it had been a long time. Then I was just, like, super lazy and thus didn't post for several years. But I'm writing today, because it's a momentous day: the day of the "Brexit" vote in the UK. I'm not going to expand on what that is, as I'm sure you know, or can easily find out, but I want to talk about why I voted to Remain, and why I think that's the only sensible choice.

Overall, my decision was made long ago. The main reason I'm currently awaiting the granting of my British citizenship (which I will maintain in addition to my Canadian citizenship) is for access to the EU. I'd love to be able to live and to work in Germany one day, if I so choose. Or Sweden. Or France. But even were that not true, the factual arguments are too great: our trade is heavily dependent on the EU, international trading partners including China and the US trade with big blocks like the EU, not a newly-independent UK. The UK does not have the clout it once did, and would rapidly cease to be the economic centre of Europe (and the world), causing knock-on effects in terms of job losses, a likely recession, increased cost of goods and more. Like it or not, the EU is too big to bail out of without it really hurting us.

In addition, there are social implications. The risk of Scottish (or Northern Irish) independence is too great if we leave. Travel to the continent would be more difficult and far more expensive. I would lose many friends and colleagues who are EU citizens and whose futures would now be insecure.

So, I was never really going to vote to leave. Too many experts in too many fields, be they political, scientific or economic, are resoundingly clear in their advice that remaining part of the EU is the best path for Britain (and Michael Gove is not exactly persuasive enough to convince me not to listen to experts). But I was challenged a few weeks ago as to a positive reason to stay. There has been a lot of fear, doom and gloom in the run-up to the referendum (on both side), and it's a valid question to ask: "what do we get by staying?", rather than "what do we risk losing by leaving?" And I can tell you why.

For the past decades, we have become more fractious as a people. We have started to focus less on "us" and more on "us vs. them". We talk about what makes us different: history, culture, language. In 1945, there were 86 recognised countries in the world; today there are 196. We have divided and sub-divided. We have seen independence movements from Quebec to Scotland; Catalonia to South Sudan. Some of these divisions are great (few people outside of Putin's inner circle lament the breakup of the Soviet Union and the dropping of the iron curtain). And I don't want to disparage the individuals who are passionate about their local ethnic cultures and identity, even those who seek to achieve independence to highlight this.

But I do lament our loss of a collective dream. That shining idea that there truly is more that unites us than divides us. That first and foremost, we are all people. And we are at our best when we work together. In the face of increasing globalisation and interconnectivity, we have counter-intuitively segmented ourselves further. In 1989, we famously tore down a wall that divided a people; today we seem far more intent to build them and keep "them" out (and sometimes try to charge "them" for the privilege) so we can be insular and separate.

The EU has been one of the few truly successful exceptions to this rule. Formed as a way to trade freely and to try and make it impossible for the horrors of two world wars to occur again, it has become so much more. It spawned one of the largest and most influential currencies in the world. It tore down border markers and travel restrictions, allowed mobility and equality of work for all those who called it home. It came together with all its members to stand up for workers' rights and environmental protections, for consumer protections and easy travel. And it said that we were all part of something bigger; a community of people who differed, but shared common values, identities and history that brought us together.

And the result? A community that grew. A beacon that drew in others eager for its light to shine on them and help them grow. And in exchange, it became a force for good, helping drive the core beliefs around human rights and protections of people and the environment to those who needed a bit more of a carrot to lure them over that humane line. The club grew and expanded, and those values formed a strong core around which the club could gather.

Much of what the Leave campaign says is true. the EU is huge, bulky, slow and overly bureaucratic. It is a lumbering beast that is hard to herd sometimes. There are some incredibly wasteful practices and rules, from the CAP to the rotating capital. There are some things that need fixing. And if we stay, I hope we use our considerable muscle to help reform it. I hope we don't quit. I hope we don't walk away and go it on our own, as an isolationist island with little more than a shadow of its former power.

What do we get by voting to remain? We get to say that we are part of something bigger. We get to say that sharing and working in a community is more important than going it alone and hoping for the best. We get to validate one of the greatest experiments of a generation: a generation that has seen less war, more prosperity, more rights, more freedoms, more travel and more protections than any before it. And it saddens me that we might throw that away because we can't stop focusing on what makes us different; on our personal story and history.

You should absolutely be proud of where you came from, who you are, and what makes you special. But you absolutely also be proud to be a part of something bigger. Especially if that something bigger is a community of peers working to improve the lives of its peoples.

China Trip 2014: Yangshuo: Rest, Recharge and Rice Terraces

It turns out that going full-on, from early morning to late at night, for a week or two, has a tendency to wear you out. Who knew? Katy, of course, had had a 14-hour-a-day course for a week (including weekends) before we'd met up. I hadn't had that strain, but had had a nearly restless flight over (thank you giant family group and loud children who elbowed me in the side the whole time!) so I was still fighting a sleep debt and was pretty drained. We were looking forward to our next stop, therefore, for its restfulness and chance to replenish our dwindling energy.

The stop in question was three nights in Yangshuo in Guanxi province in Southern China. After flying into Guilin airport, we would be picked up by the hotel we'd booked and taken to a bamboo raft tour of the Li River (aka the Lijiang River). We'd then spend three nights at the hotel (the Yangshuo Secret Garden). This hotel, far removed from any of the cities in the area, was to be a quiet oasis of calm. It's a collection of older buildings that had bee saved from demolition and converted into a lovely little hotel centered around a series of small courtyards and gardens and typified by large rooms and blissful quiet. It would be an excellent spot for families, and indeed there were several there, but also an excellent base from which to explore two of our key sites: the Li River and the Longsheng Rice Terrace (aka the Dragon's Backbone).

The Li River tour we did, from Yangdi to Xiping, was not as long as the Guilin-to-Yangshuo tour we'd initially intended to go on, but the timing of the latter made doing it on the first day impossible. And the tour we did do was quite spectacular. That area of China is dotted with, and typified by, Karst Spires, large rocky outcroppings hundreds of metres tall, topped generally in a rounded summit. Primarily composed of white rock (presumably limestone), these are lush with lively green foliage and as such resemble naught so much as the towering peaks in the movie Avatar. Coupled with the mist that was present (high temperatures and higher humidity), these peaks had a truly primordial feel to them; one half expected to see pterodactyls circling their summits.







The river tour was on a bamboo raft, composed on long, thick stalks of bamboo curved to the front to form a prow and topped with benches and an awning. They were incredibly slow and somewhat loud, being powered by a tiny two-stroke diesel outboard motor. But the resulting experience was sublime-we drifted downstream, admiring the Karst spires and relaxing in the steamy environs of the waterway, waving to other boats, dozing at times, and generally allowing the stress incurred by life in Beijing to melt away. I also took far too many photos, as is my wont.

The tour lasted about two hours, after which we were collected by the driver to complete our journey to Yangshuo. It was along this portion of the drive that we first started to see the Karst spires and marvelled at their beauty. They continued along the remainder of our journey, when we pulled into the tiny village outside Yangshuo that contained our hostel (on the edge of a swampy field, across a perilous causeway).

The reason we selected this hotel was two-fold: firstly, it was a unique experience, given it was comprised of the historical buildings. Secondly, it was remote. We were both exhausted and needed some "down time", and this seemed the perfect opportunity to get it. Indeed, the first afternoon, from when we arrived, we did very little except shower, relax and eat at the in-house restaurant.
The next day, however, we rose early for one of our more physically active days: the Longsheng rice terraces. Considered to be one of the more beautiful terraced fields in China, this required a three-hour drive across Guanxi province, during which we got to listen to the driver's 10-song music mix on perpetual repeat. The drive and the bad pop/electronica were worth it, though: the rice terraces are beautiful.

Built into the side of a mountain range, the terraces are an answer to the question "how do I grow crops on an incline?". The answer is to build a series of flat fields up the entire slope-essentially creating a number of artificial plateus which can be used to grow crops. These plateaus are formed entirely of earth and are not hemmed in by stone walls, yet have lasted over 650 years so far, with no imminent signs of stopping. This remarkable achievement allows for the utilisation of land that would otherwise be nigh on impossible to use for crops. It also produces an amazing visual: nested fields cascading down vibrant valleys, many filled to overflowing with water for the growing of rice, giving the effect of a stack of green, yellow and mirrored-surfaces stacked neatly atop one another; a cascade of flora.
We lucked out on the weather that day, too. It was a bit overcast, but just misty enough to give some mystery and romance to the fields. We managed to hike through the paths for nearly four hours, traversing the entirety of the walking paths and again spending some time more or less on our own (a calming respite from the babbling tour groups we encountered at so many other destinations). Though these are active and productive fields, the paths designated for tourists are built into the whole area and allow you to bear witness to this unique and spectacular method of farming.

That evening, we got a ride into Yangshuo city itself to sample the nightlife. To be honest, it was a bit disappointing. Yangshuo itself is a big tourist destination, both for Chinese and Western tourists. As a result, it's big and brash but kind of cheesy and artificial. It's also very overpriced. We did have a lovely dinner at a restaurant in town, but found that the bars were so-so at best (and priced above their standing) and the nightclub we randomly selected turned out to do a partial strip-show partway through, which was not at all what we were looking for and-given that I was dragged on stage by the performer-made us both uncomfortable enough that we left immediately. It was not a fun evening, and made slightly worse by the street musicians/karaoke singers who would patrol the streets performing loudly and not with great skill, whether you wanted them to or not.

The next day we'd set aside to have a lie-in and then do not very much. And after the fatigue and stress of the previous weeks, it was glorious. We slept late, we wandered around the local area near the hotel and just generally did… not very much. In the evening, we went in to see a light show created by the director who'd orchestrated the Beijing Olympics' opening ceremony. The show itself was a bit trite or even dull in places, but quite visually striking in many parts and featured over 500 actors choreographed to music, lights and move, all done on the water of the Li River. There were moments in the show that were truly spectacular, including the procession of lighted individuals crossing the water and the illumination of the karst spires in glorious colour. 

It did, however, provide another example of a trend we noticed repeatedly over our trip: Chinese bureaucratic inefficiency and disorganisation. You see, one would think that the easiest way to do it would be to order your tickets from your hotel, collect them at the box office, then find your way to you designated seat. That, however, was not how it was done here. Instead, we ordered our tickets from the hotel, then met the agent with whom the hotel deals and stood around. For about 45 minutes, while she went into the box office three times to no avail. Finally, a piece of paper was secured which got us–and others who had evidently booked with the same agent–into the park where it took place. We then stood around there for awhile, while a second agent from the group went and collected the tickets (evidently the piece of paper was not the tickets, just something to let us into the arena are?). Tickets in hand, we were then directed into a third area to stand around. With about five minutes to go before the scheduled start time, and no indication of what was going on, there was suddenly a huge commotion. You see, instead of just allowing people to go to their seat, the organisers got all 3000 or so viewers to queue up in a giant open-air park thing then all rush in at once. People were all but sprinting for the gates, and it's a miracle nobody was trampled.

This seems to typify many bits of Chinese organisation we observed. There are far too many layers and people involved for no good reason. There are arbitrary and useless roadblocks and wait periods set up. And there's ultimately a huge sense of disorganisation and "hurry up and wait". You end up standing around for ages then having to rush like madmen in order to then stand around again. Combined with no reasonable sense of queueing (I do miss the rigid order of a British queue when I'm in Asia), the result is pure chaos. In every situation, I could easily spot a half-dozen simple changes that would have dramatically improved the situation.

Our time in Yangshuo, though fraught with a few disappointments, was ultimately both very rewarding and desperately needed. By the end of our time in Beijing, both Katy and I felt we were basically running on empty. Our last day, at the Temple of Heaven saw us both dutifully trekking around to the sights, but with no real verve or energy. We'd pushed ourselves hard to see and do as much as we could, and it had finally caught up to us. To have the chance to relax, in a verdent, green and relaxing setting, to sleep in and spend some time with each other and not as much to do, was a much-needed and thoroughly enjoyable experience.

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China Trip 2014: The Great Wall at Simatai and the Eeriness of Faketown

Amongst the stereotypical and easily-brought-to-mind images of China, few are as forthcoming as The Great Wall. This testament to defense and construction is mistakenly believed to be the only man-made structure viewable from space and is the primary reason that China is not currently a province of Mongolia (note: I'm not a historian, so that last statement might be complete malarky). If you are planning your first-ever trip to China does not include some time to see the Great Wall, I am completely baffled.

There are numerous locations to see this masterpiece of masonry. Most infamous is Badaling, which by dint of its proximity to Beijing is frequented by hundreds, if not thousands, of tourists a day. It's a great place to go if you want an easy commute and photos with scores of strangers in the background (while being hassled to buy innumerable trinkets and tourist crap). We settled instead on Simatai, based both on the Lonely Planet I'd bought, and the advice of a colleague whose wife is Chinese and who has consequently travelled to China many times. Simatai is the starting point (or ending point if you fancy) of a 7km hike along the wall (one of the longer treks you can make uninterrupted) ending at Jinshanling. In addition, it is also one of the "rougher" sections of the wall-more prone to steep inclines and crumbling portions that evoke the true sense of the Wall more than the rebuilt, clean-and-idealised portions seen elsewhere. In addition, the scenery is rather breathtaking-dry yet verdant mountains abound and the Wall snakes up and down amongst them, wending its way through the peaks and valleys into the murky, hazy distance.

We had been warned that this was likely to be a rather strenuous trek, so were well kitted out with water, hiking boots and a packed lunch. We had hired a driver for the day who would kindly wait for us while we hiked and drive us home. When we asked about doing the Simatai-to-Jinshanling trek, we were told that the road was down between the two, so we had to choose. I have to admit, this didn't make much sense-surely if the main road was down, you coud just route around it? The two points were only 7km of hiking apart: undoubtedly, a car could get to the end faster, even if it had to take a different and more roundabout route, right? Apparently not, so we selected Simatai as our go-to, and set off.

It turns out, there was a slight mis-translation, which we would discover only when we made it onto the Wall itself, after a hike through Fake-Town (I'll get to that shortly), and a scenic cable-car up the hill. It wasn't that the road between the two points was down, it's that the path along the Great Wall was. Indeed, there was a large section of the Wall which was effectively completely collapsed and awaiting repair and was wholly intraversible in the meantime. This at least made more sense. Without being able to cross the section of river spanned by the collapsed portion, there was simply no way to get to Jinshanling. Unfortunately, this meant we were confined to a section of Wall about 1.25km long, or possibly even shorter.

Fortunately, it was a breathtakingly beautiful section. We were graced by stunningly sunny weather, marred only slightly by the high heat and the smoggy haze which pervades all areas around Beijing. And the section around Simatai is incredible. Steep inclines are the norm, some of the steps causing significant trepidation, as well as the excellent calf workout we were inclined to expect. Though portions of the Wall have been repaired, many of the guard towers are crumbling and some sections of the Wall itself are rather dilapidated. This gives it an air of authenticity that is wonderful to experience. Moreover, the views are amazing. Because of the steep inclines, you can see the Wall disappearing into the distance in both directions. So you are able to see the countless peaks surrounding the area and the Wall itself snaking amongst them, fading into the haze in the distance. It's quite an experience.

There's something about actually being on the Great Wall that is very different than just seeing pictures or reading about it. You can look into the history, read the stats and plan a trip. But when you're actually present on the wall, it's almost hard to believe it's real. The scope and grandeur inherent in its existence is evocative. You can almost imagine the frustration and bafflement of the Mongol hordes who were repelled by it and the mixture of anger and respect it must have engendered in the attacking armies. To have constructed something of this scale using the methods and tools of the day is a testament to perseverance, truly lofty goals and a relentless and ruthless quest for self-preservation. To read about the Wall is to be staggered by the numbers and facts; to stand upon its length is to be awed and humbled at what humanity can achieve.

Of course, as truly awesome as the Wall was–and as indicative of the capabilities of the ancient Chinese–the area surrounding it, which we named Fake-Town, was equally representative of modern China, or at least my stereotype of it. You see, surrounding the Simatai area of the Great Wall is a town. Comprised of classically-styled Chinese buildings, bridges and canals, this town is actually pretty substantial in size. It took us about 45 minutes, possibly more, to walk through and included a huge town-square complete with theatre. This significant residential area is a lovely example of Chinese living, nestled securely under the towering Great Wall, no doubt sheltering its residents from invading forces. This town did not exist four years ago, and it sits eerie and mostly empty at the moment.
As near as I can tell, the goal is to make Simatai an attraction closer in popularity to Badaling, presumably to drive up tourism revenue. However, rather than preserve the rustic, challenging nature of the wall and instead increase the frequency of buses to the site, for example, the Chinese have built a completely artificial town, Disneyland-style, to act as its own attraction, and have forced all visitor to the Wall to walk through it to get there. Fake-town is the height of surreal: it looks like a regular, run-of-the-mill town, with labyrinthine streets, interconnected canals and numerous shops, but the vast majority are empty shells of buildings, without even plumbing or electricity, as far as we could see. It's a veneer of living with nothing behind it.

And the weirdest part? All the Chinese tourists LOVED IT. People were stopping left, right and centre to pose for countless photos of Fake-Town. They'd pose next to doors, on bridges, against walls and down alleyways. Keep in mind, there is exaclty ZERO historical significance to this place. Sure, it architecturally resembles classic Chinese building styles, down to the carved wooden windows and sloping roofs. But it is, in matter of fact, pure artifice, created to engender a sense of history and presence where there is none. It's no different than the "Main Street USA" section of Disneyworld, only it happens to surround one of the greatest engineering achievements in human history (which is also one of the seven wonders of the ancient world). So the fact that there were far more people in Fake-Town than on the wall, indicating very clearly that a great many came just to see the spooky town devoid of life and authenticity, is a best a bit odd and an interesting statement on the human condition, and at worst downright depressing and condemning of Chinese tourism and the malleability and gullibility of our beliefs in history.

The weirdness of Fake-Town aside, I'm glad we go to see a section of the wall that so closely resembles its true self and its former glory. It was definitely challenging the climb that section of the wall, but there's a stark beauty to the crumbling edifice. And the sight of the wall extending into the infinite distance is something that everyone should experience. It's a shame that we were unable to complete the full length of the Simatai-to-Jinshanling hike, but I'm glad we did the bit we did. It's hard to imagine a trip to China, or at least a first-ever trip, as complete without a trip to the Wall. To do it in a rough-and-ready, yet largely quiet and serene section was absolutely the right choice for us.y1tu
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China Trip 2014: Peking In On Our Travel Plans

Beijing: the forbidden city, the Great Hall of the People, Tiananmen Square, the Temple of Heaven and Peking Duck. This is what we had in mind. Of course, we are also aware and wary of some of the notorious downsides: the crush of people, oppressive air pollution, and the risks of being swindled and ripped off that come with any major city. But all in all, we had high hopes for Beijing: where Shanghai is ultra-modern and forever coloured by western influences and a history of colonisation, Beijing was to be a truer glance into the real China experience.

We'd elected to take the bullet train to Beijing instead of flying, both for comfort and convenience, as well as for the experience itself. I love high-speed rail and we both enjoy the chance to see the scenery as we speed across the country on polished rails at a brisk 300kph. The scenery, however, wasn't exactly verdent green fields and pastoral life; instead it was new cities comprised of dozens of identical sky-scraper apartment blocks seemingly thrust up from the ground fully complete and awaiting an influx of humanity. It was new highways and infrastructure. And, of course, dozens of factories producing the concrete to make all this possible. The other downside was a trend we would notice throughout our travels: Chinese people (if you'll excuse the generalistion) are very loud. When they speak to each other in person they seem to be shouting; on the phone it's even worse. Oddly, it only seems to happen when they're speaking Chinese. We would see people change from high-decibel Chinese to normal-conversational-level English in adjoining sentences. Added to this is the fact that there seems to be very little taboo about playing music or videos or games on your phone without using headphones. The two men next to us on the train to Beijing spent all five hours playing videos and slot machine games on their tablets, every sound blasting out through the built-in speakers. It did not make for the most restful journey.

The hostel we selected for this leg was the Happy Dragon hostel, chosen from HostelWorld, one of my go-to websites for cheap accommodation. In this instance, it was not a great choice, for two reasons. First, the bed. The double bed we'd selected was in fact two single beds pushed together, with a nice solid wooden bar smack down the middle. The mattresses also appeared to be made out of some form of sheetrock. Comfort, it turns out, was not a high priority. The second issue was one which would emerge as one of the constant features we would notice in our time in China: perpetual construction and perpetual noise. We have yet to visit anywhere in China where there isn't a significant quantity of construction going on at all times, but our Beijing Hostel was a particularly egregious example: the building directly across the street was being torn down or extensively renovated or something, which required heavy and loud construction to occur starting at 4AM, complete with Chinese workers yelling at each other at all times, continuing the trend of needlessly-high-volume speech. The construction also added a layer of dust that pervades the city and dirties every surface.

Lest you think our Beijing experience was wholly negative, let me delve into some of the positives that we found during our time there. The hostel, though loud and equipped with terrible beds, was in a very interesting area of town: the Hutong area. These interconnected alleyways are a glimpse into the more traditional Beijing living, before the skyscrapers and mega-malls became the norm. Our first day, we wandered down a series of hutongs, and were amazed at the differences: one could be nearly silent and wholly residential, the next could be practically pulsing with activity and energy, thronged with young people and shops. We selected a middle-ground: a fairly quiet hutong, but one with some nice cafés, and most excitingly for Katy, a cat café where we could set, pat the kitties, and watch the world go by. A lovely rest after a fairly hectic travel day. We followed this up with an excellent dinner with Frank, a chap from Katy's course, and Frank's wife. This gave us the chance to eat at a wonderful restaurant we'd have never discovered otherwise.

On the successive days, we hit many of the highlights we most wanted to see. The Summer Palace, a sprawling, beautiful park centered around a lake and dotted with temples, outdoor hallways, bridges and walking paths is a wonderful and surprisingly tranquil escape from the city, at least when it's not mobbed with innumerable Chinese tourists shouting into their phones and photographing anything that will sit still for five seconds. The drum and bell towers require a steep ascent up rather perilous flights of stairs, but provide excellent views across Beijing (and the drum ceremony is deafening and incredible). The Tibetan Buddhist Lama temple has a certain peacefulness despite the crowds and is jammed full of art, icons and ceremonial items from a fascinating tradition. And the Temple of Heaven, an expansive park nestled into the centre of Beijing is a beautiful, if repetitive at times, park clustered around a handful of artistic, elegant temples and greenspace. So we had some truly lovely experiences.

Sadly, we missed out on one of our biggest to-dos: the Forbidden City. Arguably the main attraction in Beijing, we had dearly wanted to see it, but were stymied on two occasions: once due to us moving slowly in the morning, being confronted by swarms of people and an inability to find breakfast (making us both feel murderous rage to the swarms of people and deciding that we should eat and go to the Summer Palace instead). Secondly because it was inexplicably closed on the day we tried to go. It turns out that while normally the Forbidden City is open every day (hence the guidebooks and websites giving us no indication it wouldn't be), it's closed on Mondays for the first half of this year, for renovations. So unfortunately, we didn't get a chance to see this rather remarkable place; something for the next trip, perhaps.

We did make it to the Great Wall, however (at Simatai), though I am going to detail that in its own blog post.

The food we had in Beijing was lovely overall. Most famous, of course, is the Beijing Duck. A delicate and flavourful dish that involves a rather elaborate cooking and serving ceremony, this dish lives up to its billing. We actually ate it three times over the course of our stay, and each time was slightly different, but always succulent. We also went twice to Mali Mali hotpot, a (mostly) Sichuan hotpot place that was so entertained by our visit that they insisted on taking pictures for what appeared to be their "Wall of non-Chinese diners". Numerous other little meals of dumplings, beef and chicken always were tasty and varied, and it's safe to say that the food was definitely a high point, even though I never quite worked up the courage to try the fried scorpions or silk worms on offer from some of the street vendors.

We also had an excellent experience that occurred-as many of the best memories do-through pure happenstance. On our final night in Beijing, we'd booked into the bests-reviewed Beijing Duck restaurant in the Lonely Planet (considered to be one of the better-known and better-respected duck restaurants in the city). Katy and I were meeting another friend of hers from her course who'd elected to do a few days in Beijing before flying home. But we arrived a little bit early, so set off in search of a few beers and a place to sit. In the end, we settled on a tiny, grubby little diner/convenience store/bar hybrid, clearly frequented solely by locals, which sold us the cheapest beers of our entire trip (about 55p for a 600mL bottle). We sat out on the terrace to relax and drink, and soon a dish arrived, sent by the next table. One of the chaps there spoke English, and explained that the vegetable dish he'd sent over was a local Beijing vegetable delicacy, available only for a week or two per year. It was delicious, though we never knew what it was (he said it was from a tree of some sort, we suspect it might have been young, tender bamboo shoots). We ended up chatting with the guys and sharing beers until Katy's friend arrived and we headed to our duck, then joining them for one more round after the meal. It was a fun little slice of local life.

Overall, I wasn't as impressed with Beijing as I'd expected to be, and Katy wasn't blown away either. There were some definite highlights-the Summer Palace is amazing and the areas where the Chinese tour groups don't venture are rather tranquil. The morning market (food and clothing primarily) outside our hostel was a frenetic bustle of energy and semi-organised chaos that was fun to see. And there still is a sense of recent history in the Hutongs, and some beauty in the Temple of Heaven, the temples and the old towers. However, the omnipresent dust and noise that belie the perpetual construction are overwhelming, the throngs of shouting, pushy, inconsiderate people (many of whom clear their throats loudly and spit openly wherever they are) and the general sense of disorganisation and inefficieny are maddening. We certainly enjoyed our time, and enjoyed specific aspects greatly. But it didn't quite live up to our hopes for a view of "Real China". Perhaps our view of modern China was just skewed.