A fitting ending to my month long stay in China was to climb Tai Shan (Peaceful Mountain); the most climbed mountain in China and the most revered of its five sacred mountains.
Getting to the base of the mountain for the start of the climb provided the usual minor hassles – taxi to bus station, bus to Tai’an, find a bank when we realized we didn’t have enough money and then a 2nd taxi ride to the trail head.
Once walking, everything changed into a lovely, quiet, winter stroll up the mountain past shrines, temples, old cypress trees, tea shops and idyllic scenic spots. Truly wonderful. Actually, stroll isn’t the correct word to use because it was a steady uphill walk till we reached the mid-way point (about a 800metre or 2500 foot rise in elevation over five kilometres).
The second half was shorter in length, but much steeper. Being the weak kneed coward that I am, the cable car ride proved a god-send and I was able to arrive at the summit with enough energy to walk around it and explore things a bit more. Looking down upon the stairs from above was certainly less tiring than looking up at the cable car from below.
The cable car didn’t quite go to the very top and there were still plenty of stairs to climb. And I mean stairs. From the base of Tai Shan to the top there are supposedly 6660 of them.
The amount of work that would have gone into the cutting and laying of these many granite steps and paving squares boggles the mind. They were certainly built to last. Winding their way through the trees and, more or less in an upward direction, their beauty added a another aspect to the walk.
One very important aspect of coming to Tai Shan was to place a Roaring Beach stone in some out-of-the way, protective spot. 
Just below the summit, in a sheltered, sunny location I both hid the stone and picked up another to bring back to Windgrove. For whatever reason (conscious or unconscious) there was in doing this “swap”, it felt plain honest good and I look forward to placing the Tai Shan stone on the Ancestral Midden back at Windgrove.
At the summit of 1,545 metres, a sense of closure to my Chinese adventure and a profound good feeling towards the Chinese people came into my heart. 
They have their problems, certainly, and the land is suffering greatly, but my overwhelming sense of the people (at least, in ShangDong Province) is that at their core there is a selfless sense of well being that exudes a generous kindness to all.
If the world is to have 9 billion people living on it, the Chinese will be the most capable of living together.
And once any summit is reached, the only alternative is to turn around and find your way back down to where you started. In my case, Australia.
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After sitting in snarled traffic for nearly an hour and only getting half way to the bus station, we told the taxi driver to turn around and take us back to the hotel.
Here, we were able to spend the day (although cold and wet) walking through the Confucius Temple, the Kong family’s Mansion and the Confucius Forest (a 200 acre cemetery where the Kong descendants of Confucius are still being buried today; Confucius being a romanization of Kong Fuzi, meaning Master Kong).
Although a bit weary with age, the technical mastery and former grandeur was still evident (with a slight squint of the eyes and a bit of imagination).
Looking somewhat like a Muslim is how Sally presented herself to the world on Christmas Day. Nothing religious in intention; just what one has to do to keep healthy in air that knocks most Westerners about.
The bus for Qingdao was around a 5 hour trip. Rather comfortable, with a bus stewardess offering tea and snacks. The view out the window, though, was disconcerting as visibility was very limited because of a combination of fog and high pollution. Our hope was that, as we approached the coast, the air quality would improve. Not to be. We arrived in brownish air at a different bus station than the one described in the Lonely Planet. The view from the hotel balcony was somewhat surreal. Luckily, a sea breeze followed the tide in, blew out most of the pollution and revealed more of the harbour and its surrounds.
However, like I mentioned in last week’s blog, the real beauty of the city was to be found in the small: the splashes of colour and detail found in bamboo gardens, street side flower arrangements of cabbage (they grow in the winter), pine paths along the coast, buckets of seeds and beans for sale at market stalls and the relatively quiet, incense infused temples.
However, what I am finding out is that the city’s visual beauty lies hidden in cultural detail. One aspect of this being the usage of the colours red and gold.
On the cold, windy peak of Thousand Buddha Mountain, the leafless bushes are brought to life with red strips of prayers and well wishes, while nearby, golden locks symbolizing fidelity and long lasting love contrast easily with the red cloth.
Peeking through the prayer strips, the giant statue of the Buddha at the foot of the mountain brings life to an otherwise barren winter landscape. It stands well over 150 feet/40 metres tall.
I’ve now been in China for seven days. Four of these days have seen me in bed; first with a pulled lower back muscle (the result of the cramped conditions on the plane) and now with a sinus infection (the result of the persistent air pollution).
I’m excited. From the little I have seen, it has all been fairly amazing. One first observation is that the people are consistently friendly. I have yet to run into the sort of anti-foreigner, why can’t you speak our language, verbal abuse Asians might encounter when coming to Australia or America. Give the Chinese people any indication that you are trying to learn their language and they beam the sweetest smiles. Ordering a meal might be difficult, but their good manners make it a pleasant, difficult experience.
To be honest, despite the hugh joy and real excitement in my heart at the thought of meeting up with my partner, Sally, there is, as well, a wee bit of trepidation and a few butterflies built into the leaving.
The simple fact is that Windgrove is a place where I have sunk deep roots into the landscape. Leaving one’s home and one’s family is always hard.
So where am I going? China for one month. More or less staying in the relatively small city of Jinan (population, 5 million); southeast of Beijing towards Shanghai. Sally is there already at a university hospital studying traditional Chinese medicine and I miss her enough to want to leave Windgrove behind for a few weeks. During weekdays, while Sally is at the hospital, I’ll be engaged in learning a new language. The spoken language of the locals, for sure, but also the silent, unspoken language of the customs and culture of this fascinating country. During weekends, we’ll be exploring any number of “tourist” spots.
