We paid a visit to Tai Shi Tun hospital yesterday, for Freda's fourth Rabies vaccine. One might have thought that the recent dog-bite incident would make Freda more wary of dogs. She's certainly being careful, but there's not much we can do to stop her being the Pied Piper of the canine world.

If our gate is open, the mutts gather. We walked round the village today to make a DVD　of the treasure hunt we have made up. In every scene I shot, there's at least one dog tagging along behind Freda and Edie. It's not good for my nerves. The good news is that they have mastered the 'bending down to pick up an invisible stone' trick to scare off unwanted followers. Even Xiong Mao growls them out of the yard, though here she seems to have been sucked into the party: That's Caesar (with one eye) just leaving; Tramp [on the right] is considering a second attempt at entering; Snapper, the brown and white one on the left is my least favourite, mainly because he barks outside our window all night. LEAVE US ALONE - WE　CAN'T AFFORD TO FEED YOU ALL!

Although we are in the same country as a month ago, there are a number of variations in daily life. This picture shows two differences between Yunnan and Beijing, according to my experience. Firstly, the common fuel here is raw coal, which is dumped outside houses in large, unrefined lumps that have to be broken up by the  customer. In Yunnan the common fuel for stoves is processed coal briquets, which customers pick up from the factory on the back of a tricycle. This leads to another difference. Unlike in Yunnan, where larger, two-wheeled carts and tricycles are used to transport goods, single wheeled barrows are typical here in this part of Beijing prefecture. They look wobbly and precarious but, like the Yunnan trikes, allow the transportation of large amounts of dongxi (stuff) when in expert hands. One fuel-related similarity I've discovered is that people here also dry out corn cobs for the fire (scattered around the yard and easily mistaken for rubbish) and build up stocks of wood, gathered from the hillsides, for fueling their giant woks and winter boilers.

This is Xiong Mao, the dog that follows us everywhere. She is very-well natured. She is the breed of dog that Mum said she would never want because she has a curly tail, medium ears and a squashed face. Mum said that, actually, it depends on the dog's nature, not on its looks.  She has a  son called Dou Dou but he is not in the picture. At first we didn't feed her but she still came back every day, now we somtimes feed her if she misses her dinner time but not usually. She is very cute and even though she is a half-stray she is still quite clean. A few days ago we found that her whole tummy was covered in ticks but luckily for us they all dropped of in a day. We think she is pregnant but we aren't so sure. The first time we took her down to the river she wouldn't go near the water but now she loves just lieing down in the water and stretching her legs out. Her favourite food is sausage but she also likes eating rice, soup and pork. She is lovely and I will tell you more about her some other time.                                                     
Byeeeeeeee

After a day of clear blue sky yesterday, we packed our bags and headed off up Crouching Tiger mountain, hoping for a cool, rain-free evening. We re-traced Freda and Ali's route from last week, this time squeezing two tents into the small clearing on the col [see photo below]. While Ali and the girls set up camp, I took a walk to the highest tower on this Gubeikou stretch. Although many of the towers are still standing, some of the structures are unstable, and I didn't hang about on the rooftops for long. On entering one tower I was warned off with screaches and stones by a small, brown mammal, which I think was a least weasel. Fear of rabid bats stopped me in my tracks, until I saw the little tower inhabitant watching me from under an arch. These small carnivores resort to eating insects when there aren't enough rodents about. That could explain the beetle-ridden droppings Ali and Freda found outside their tent on the last trip.

After a disturbed night (barking dogs, cold, rumbling trains) we got up early and headed back down to the village, completing a circular route that took us along the Eastern flank of this section. The wall is derelict much of the way, and all that remains of many of the towers are piles of rubble [see above photo].

It's one thing to look at the wall from below; it's quite another to be up there clambering along it and seeing the incredible structure snaking away through the distant, misty mountains. If you're at liberty to jump on a plane or train, now would be a good time to come and visit us.

I find it hard to get motivated to exercise in the heat here, but I'm also tired of putting it off and I can feel myself becoming more and more lethargic. A few days ago I started a routine of going for a short run, accompanied by Freda on the bike, and returning for some tai qi. I practised tai qi for over a year in Simao, for half an hour every morning. Our small group was instructed by a College PE teacher, Li Chao. I'm a little bit rusty now, however, and am a long way from 'feeling the qi' but I shall persevere. I can't see myself having a better opportunity than this to reinstate the habit.

No visitors came from Beijing this weekend, but it didn't stop us having an art session with some local kids who seem to magnetise towards the yard. The task was simple: Join some sheets of paper together, lie on the paper and draw round each person then decorate the larger than life-size pictures. The children chattered away all morning as they worked on their self-portraits, which are now stuck up on the art room wall.

The best part was seeing them all tidy up, sweep and mop afterwards, without being prompted. I think the other children find me a bit strict at first but they seem to slot very quickly into the routine of helping out. After joining us for lunch they even cleared the table and washed the dishes. Useful life skills, but will they ever come to visit again?

This afternoon we took the local bus to 河东村 (He Dong Cun, East of the River). It's a little more commercialised than here, set up for tourists ascending the Jinshanling section of the Great Wall. This working donkey provided us with at least half an hour of entertainment, as we chatted to it's guardian and watched it munch on a late lunch. I discovered a hardware store selling cheap fly screens (I've been wanting one for the kitchen door since we came) and muslin, for making cakes in the rice steamer. After stocking up on green veggies and having a quick blast round the play/exercise park, we took a mian bao che (mini van, shaped like a loaf of bread, hence the name) back to He Xi Cun. That will do for today's exploring.

Dad and I went up to the great wall and camped out for a night. It was very windy and it started to rain when I went to bed. When we got to the place we were to camp the night I insisted that dad put a massive stone in the tent so that it didn't blow away. I used it as a bedside table [see picture above]. Before I went to bed I saw a scorpion and when I woke up in the morning there was fox poo outside our tent. We tried to light a fire to heat some water but for some reason the dead wood didn't light. Dad had taken a face cloth so when I woke up I wiped my face and felt much better. We had great fun and I would love to go camping again.

We got up at 6:30 this morning and climbed up to the highest tower [above my head in the picture], then we walked back down to the house. Mum said she had a special surprise for us - cereal from the UK. She brought out a big bowl of sort of sugar puffs. They didn't really come from the UK. They were broken up puffed wheat biscuits, served with UHT milk. They weren't that great but I told mum they were lovely. It's the thought that counts.

We went for a walk down to the river this morning, but by 11 o'clock it was already too hot, so we headed back to the yard. But not before being offered some freshly boiled local produce - corn-on-the-cob - by these friendly folk outside a shop on Hou Jie, our street. Most of the fields in and around the village are planted with maize at the moment, and we have a lot of fun exploring the various paths, some not so distinct, which wind their way through the tall, thick crops. There's also a bit of goaliang (sorghum), and smaller plots of chillies, tomatoes, spring onions and various gourds and pumpkins. Not much grows here in the freezing winter temperatures though, maybe only the odd hardy carrot or cabbage...

My time spent with Auntie these days has been very revealing and I have learnt a lot from her openness and generosity. She often turns up around mealtimes with home-grown cucumbers and tomatoes to contribute to a meal, which we then eat together. When we presented the fork for eating the chilli con carne and mashed potato last night she took a quick glance at the rest of us then tucked in. She takes all our foreign oddities in her stride and we connect on simple common ground - we are all people, and we take time to communicate with each other. This afternoon she fetched some books from the activity centre and sat for an hour in the shade fully absorbed by the pictures, especially the animals, which conjured up many memories and tales. I don't understand everything she shows us in actions, but I do my best to listen and empathise. Isn't this a basic human need, to feel listened to?

I've found the most challenging thing about being with Auntie is dealing with other people. Mid-afternoon I accompanied Auntie back through the village to her home. She was shouted at for stepping on someone's patch of garden to pick up a (rubbish) bottle. When I pointed out to the woman that Auntie wasn't doing any harm she glared at me and the dirty looks continued until we were out of sight. In the village itself the old people on the street made a point of telling me that Auntie is dirty, we shouldn't let her in our house and it's better we stay clear. Even a member of Auntie's family, along with two shop keepers, chastised us for showing Auntie kindness. She expressed disbelief that Auntie could "kan shu" (look at books), figuring we must be talking about two different people, especially when I added that she seems to enjoy joining in our family life. I returned home with such a gloomy feeling, after experiencing so much negativity and criticism of both Auntie and ourselves. It seems that the majority of people I've come into contact with here (that includes all our neighbours, who also chase Auntie away) seem incapable of believing that, despite being unable to communicate verbally, Auntie is still a perceptive, emotional, thinking being. Sure I was a bit disappointed when Auntie turned up in the middle of my tai qi session, but I overcame it when I realised she was happy to help herself to a mug of water, sit and watch, happy to let me carry on. You can't have better guests than that.

Evening update: Auntie returned this evening to show me photos of her son. It seems he graduated several years back and now has a young daughter, a grandaughter who Auntie clearly adores. No 2 Uncle came to visit this evening too, though he wouldn't come in through the gate at first. Auntie had been telling him about her visits up here and he didn't believe her. Given the behaviour of the neighbours to them both, I'm not surprised: Old Yang next door shouted at No 2 Uncle when he kindly brushed some dirt off his shoulder; Old Mrs Lu came storming into our yard and shouted to Auntie to go home and cook her own dinner. She wasn't eating with us at the time, but all the neighbours know that she has in the past; a pack of 5 local dogs snarled at their ankles and their owners did nothing to stop them - they're not used to feeling welcome, chased off like stray dogs. The dogs growled, he raised his stick to ward them off, they snarled and barked more, moving closer as if to bite, he shouted back and so it went on, as the onlookers waited for Uncle to leav I sense this is a common scenario.This afternoon I intevened.  I asked No 2 uncle to put his stick down, the dogs moved back and peace was resumed. The neighbours looked bemused as to why I felt the need to make peace. The only person who didn't involve himself was Uncle Zhou (very chatty and helpful to me and Edie when we first moved in), who was busy doing a watercolour painting of the Great Wall from the street. He's a labourer and was recently given some paints and paper by visiting artists from Beijing, who were staying in a nearby guesthouse. Although he refers to himself as "uneducated", he speaks a bit of English, is artistic, open-minded and the most tolerant - towards us as well as No 2 Uncle and Auntie.

I've found today hard. It's one thing having to avoid vicious dogs; it's another trying to ward off nasty neigbours, especially when I feel responsible for Auntie's welfare when she's visiting us. I've spent more time than I would like to have fending off warnings, riducule and general ill-will towards our visitors. I could ignore it but I find myself responding, trying to give people a different perspective, especially the local children. The good news is I've noticed a change in the behaviour of two girls who come to play. They no longer give Auntie a wide berth and when she speaks to them they smile and nod, rather than cringing and running away. I'd like to think she doesn't pick up all that's being said about her, but from the look on her face she understands the general meaning. Sometimes she looks sad, sometimes she laughs, sometimes she just walks away. If only everyone demonstrated her level of tolerance.