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We arrived back in Beijing at 7.15 and the intention was drop me off at Tiananmen Square so that I could get some smog free photos with the chance that the crowds wouldn’t be so big.

I guess the factories close for the weekends, so Sunday morning seems to have less smog than the rest of the week, presumably because a lot of the pollution has had the chance to disperse.

Even early on a Sunday morning, the station was packed to brim. The queues for the taxis were huge, and it was a good hour before we emerged into the bright sunlight.

As we neared Tiananmen Square, the language barrier once again materialised, and our cabbie drove past. That was probably due to restrictive parking around the Square for security reasons, although the driver couldn’t tell us that.

We eventually made our way back to Tiananmen Square to make my political statement. Jodie was covered by diplomatic immunity, having agreed to behave in a professional manner, so I had to respect those sentiments.

I had hurriedly thrown one of my T-shirts into my cases as a spare before I left England. I had brought it in Pittsburgh the previous November and because of our suspect weather never had the opportunity to wear it.

Together, with the Terrible Towel, it represented the ideal political statement to make. The Square has a heavy security presence and it seems likely that it also includes plain-clothes policemen.

I stood the girls in front of a soldier so that I could keep him in my vision. As I unveiled the Towel, a look of consternation appeared on his face.  He obviously didn’t know what to make of this mad combination of a white haired old man with a Cleveland Sucks T-shirt, holding a Terrible Towel.

The girls decided they wanted to see Chairman Mao’s body, but as I didn’t want to see the body of a despot, I sat the visit out. No bags can be taken into the Mausoleum of Mao Zedong. To save the girls from checking them in, I took their bags and found some shade to wait for their return. Another strange sight for the Chinese. That same white haired old man loaded up with handbags.

As we were interested in buying some souvenirs for family and friends, Jodie took us to the large official Olympic shop in Wangfujing, which is Beijing’s newest shopping district. It includes a huge KFC restaurant, but that wasn’t on the agenda so I can’t tell you what it like.

They had a vast selection of different items, ranging from umbrellas to beautiful limited edition models of the Birds Nest. What should have been a great shopping experience disintegrated into a farce. To my amazement, I discovered that you had to order your items at the individual counters before taking the receipts to the till to pay for them.

I wrongly assumed that having paid for them, there would be a central point where you picked everything up - a Chinese version of Argos.

If only!

The shopper has to return to each counter that they have brought the souvenirs from and show the stamped receipt before collecting them. Shopping in the middle ages didn’t appeal to me, although I wanted the goods so had to suffer the anguish.

Ed in Pittsburgh has just started watching, “Are You Being Served?” He’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. The Olympic store was like visiting Grace Brothers, but in the 21st century.

Armed with our pressies, Jodie showed us the market. The Chinese version of a kebab is a seahorse on a stick. It looked revolting, so I moved on rapidly, otherwise I could tell you about the other delicacies on offer.

Taking a taxi, we moved on to see the Olympic stadium, nicknamed the Birds Nest for obvious reasons. It was still fenced off, but you could get close enough to take photos and admire its style.

To take photos of the stadium, there was a lot of climbing up embankments to get a decent shot. Hopefully, Jodie will return in September with better photos taken a lot closer as she was in the stadium when Usain Bolt broke the 100 metres record.

I did notice one visitor attempting to take a photo of my Cleveland Sucks T-shirt, but being the shy person that I am, I made every effort to turn my back on him.

Another cab ride took us to Jodie’s favourite Beijing district – the old part, and it was worthy of a visit. The girls went off shopping for more pressies and gave me the choice to relax in a bar.

Truly terrible; leaving an old man in a strange place to fend for himself. I was in my element. I began writing the notes for this story, reflecting on my visit to China over a Heineken. Not a bad way to spend Sunday afternoon.

Jodie advised me not to use the toilets in the bars. That was advice that I definitely took. I didn’t ask her to elaborate, so I can’t tell you how bad they were.

She did make me smile when she told the story about playing dice on the second floor of a bar and one of her friend’s off-target die fell into the street below! Was that just a bad throw or the alcohol taking effect, I asked? Was it covered by diplomatic immunity?

When the girls finished their shopping, we wandered around to the lake, where the Chinese enjoy their Sunday afternoons in Beijing. What an absolute beaut of a place.

Enjoy the photos>>>

My thanks go to Jodie and the UK tax payers for giving me the opportunity to visit China and also to Linkin Park for keeping me sane while writing the story.

CHINA INDEX>>>

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