Things that the Lonely Planet ought to warn you of

There are a couple of pieces of advice that I believe one should take on any trip to China. Most of these are mentioned in the travel guides, however some key points are oft-overlooked. Firstly, 95% of Chinese toilets (those in restaurants, public buildings etc.) do not provide toilet paper, therefore it is absolute importance that you carry around your own supply, as every Chinese person does. Secondly 98% of toilets in China will be filthy squat-pots, so trousers that occasionally trail on the floor are a no no. Thirdly, if you are of any height (5'9" or above) or are not particularly flexible, you will find that it is very difficult to fit your entire body into a cubicle while maintaining the necessary sphinctal floor alignment (apologies to those reading while they are eating, but you shouldn't be eating at the computer anyway, the keys will get all sticky and then Dad will have to clean it).

These points are particularly topical for me, as I am in the midst of a rather painful stomach bug. This is undoubtedly a result of the numerous dishes of luke-warm meat that have been served to me in restaurants. It is in fact very difficult to refuse these havens of microscopic life as their arrival at the table is always accompanied by cries of 'Chi, Chi' ('eat!, eat!') directed at myself, the person who has spent the least time in China. So, in an effort to avoid the quizzical, almost hurt, looks I receive whenever I refuse such offers I have chosen to run the gauntlet of digestive disease. Perhaps in the future I will be more obstinate.

I must mention Sean. He is from Shanghai and now is in charge of all files at the training school where I am now working. He is a self-confessed sufferer of 'Anglomania' and as a result was very excited to meet me. He speaks with a rather ridiculous attempt at an English accent, and loves to quote to me lists of English things that he knows and claims to like. This was amusing at first, but his fawning to all the everything cliched and, as a white-socked sandal wearing American tourist would say, 'quaint', is now a little bit sickening. However he has said that he will introduce me to his Belgian friend so I may get a chance to practice my French, a language I sorely miss when surrounded by the tonal chaos of Mandarin.