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I left the hot, sweaty subway to emerge into a boiling, smoggy Tiananmen Square. To the Chinese people, the Square is an important symbol that they all have to visit, so it is always packed.

Each entry to the square has a security checkpoint where they search visitors’ bags, but whether it was because I was a westerner or that I looked too old to be a terrorist, they didn’t ask me once. Or was it because I was sufficiently pedantic enough just to ignore them?

The Square has a lot of military presence and rumour has it that there are even plain-clothes security personnel walking about. I guess that is just in case someone wants to exercise his or her right to freedom of speech.

After walking around the Square and visiting the Forbidden City, I decided to chance my arm with the subway again and travel on the two stops to the Military museum. There are four exits from each station, so if you read the signs (that are in English as well as Chinese) carefully you should get out in the right place.

I went to the ticket office to discover the Military Museum is closed on a Monday so the McDonalds opposite offered an attractive alternative, as it was now lunchtime.

Another lesson learnt. Substituting language for pointing at the menu doesn’t always work. I ended up with hot chocolate, which can be the ideal drink during a winter’s soccer game, but not in the 30+ degrees of Beijing.

As usual with most public buildings, there was a guard at the entrance to the forecourt of the museum. He was motionless so I decided to put him to the test and went to walk passed him.

His reacted immediately with a shout. His arm came down in one swell swoop, almost as if he had a sword in his hand, blocking my way.

If he had been a referee in a football game indicating a first down, he could be very proud of his mechanics. It was a beautiful performance and certainly had the effect of stopping me dead. Oh well, there’s always another day to return.

My trip back to Jianguomen was going to be interesting. By now, I had learnt that you had to know which exit you required from the subway, otherwise you can find yourself half a mile away from where you want to be.

When I escaped from the heat of the train, I followed the flow as I didn’t have a clue as to which exit I required, and came out into a place that I didn’t recognise. Of course, the taxi rank was there, but where were all those blessed bikes?

Feeling worn out and not having a clue as to which direction to take for the walk back to the Jodie’s apartment, I went to the line of taxis.

Showing the first driver my trusty card with the address on, I was greeted with a demand for “100 yuan.” As that is the cost of the long trip to the airport, not the short journey to the apartment, I told him where to go and added that I could walk it. He didn’t know I didn’t know which way to go.

I walked aimlessly along the road, not knowing if I was headed in the right direction. Tired, hot and with a back aching more the further I walked, I found another cabbie and this time he said, “50.”

I knew that was well over the odds, and I knew that I should barter, but did I care? Home, sweet bloody home, please James and just don’t tell Jodie how much I’m paying for the ride.

Tuesday morning I went to the airport to pick up Sascha, showing her my vast knowledge (LOL) of Tiananmen Square in the afternoon.

Having arrived home from a hard day at the office (that’s not sarcasm), Jodie was faced with the stress of taking us to the Beijing Railway Station to purchase the train tickets we required for Xian, where the Terracotta Warriors are located.

Travelling on the subway in rush hour is bad enough, but after arriving at the station, we were faced with even more of an ordeal.

Add London’s Waterloo peak time commuters to the crowd leaving Anfield after a game, and you might have some idea of the multitude of travellers that were crammed into the confines of the station.

We had to find the ticket office that sold the tickets to Xian and it wasn’t going to be an easy task. Trying to search for the office as we were bustled by the horde of commuters is not recommended for anyone of a meek disposition.

We hustled around aimlessly, searching inside the station, occasionally stopping to ask the nice ladies in blue if they could help. The language barrier was firmly foiling our quest as none of them spoke English.

We had as much as luck as President Bush achieved in finding his weapons of mass destruction.

Leaving the main building, we noticed the huge “Ticket Office” sign at one corner of the complex. That was a bit of a giveaway that we were happy to accept with open arms.

I burst into a large hall. There must have been twenty windows selling tickets, everyone with the destinations on the signblazers in Chinese. It was going to be an impossible task until I noticed a door that led to another ticket hall.

As we entered the hall, Sascha spotted the “Foreigners” sign above one of the windows and our spirits immediately rose. Our troubles were now over…

One trait of the Chinese that I never accepted is the way they push in or queue jump. There were four gentlemen who appeared to be together, at the window in front of us, so we patiently waited behind them.

As others joined the queue behind us, we had to devise a total exclusion zone by standing alongside Jodie to prevent them from barging in. Eventually the four gentlemen moved aside and Jodie patiently attempted to buy the tickets required for both journeys, as they don’t sell return tickets.

After a long conversation, it appeared to be sorted. Unexpectedly, they didn’t take a credit card. We didn’t have the equivalent of the £365 that they wanted, so after we were told that the tickets would only be held for 30 minutes, we were out of there as fast as Usain Bolt searching for an ATM .

We fought our way through the masses outside, rushed back to find those same four gentlemen at the window. Patience was running out as our 30 minutes clock continued to count down and nothing appeared to be happening with their transaction.

Eventually, we were told that the system had frozen and they couldn’t issue tickets. Talk about having a good day? Someone must have put a curse on us. One question we didn’t ask – if the system has stopped, does that mean the clock has?

Suddenly, the computer screen burst back into life. The four gentlemen were served, and finally, after handing 4700 yuan over, we had the tickets in our hands.

To celebrate, we went to partake in the local cuisine at a non-western restaurant. The language barrier proved too much for me to have sweet and sour with chicken, instead of the pork that was on the menu, but the girls enjoyed their choices.

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