This is the best time of the year to be in northern China. The monsoon is over and the summer temperatures are cooling down in Beijing and Shanghai. It’s the best time for food, too. ‘The peaches are in season in Beijing now,’ is the very first thing Fumei says as she greets us. ‘And in two weeks’ time we can eat fat hairy crabs in Shanghai.’ We find acres of grapes and melons being harvested in the Xinjiang oases, the raisin houses are bulging and baskets of juicy figs fill the markets. Trees lining the avenues are bowed down with pomegranates and persimmons. In Anhui province, the rice harvest has been laid out to dry on any available surface — even at the edge of motorways. The third tea crop is being prepared.
Not so long ago it was rare to find a good meal in China; now it seems hard to find a bad one. Camel’s hump in Turfan may be daunting. Lily Ho — the Chinese Madonna — has an elegant restaurant in Shanghai, which serves sliced rabbits’ ears. These may be an acquired taste, but throughout modern China the variety of food is a revelation.
Twenty years ago, while staying in the smartest hotel in a large provincial city, I woke up to find a rat the size of a Cadillac staring me in the face. That doesn’t happen any more. Even government-owned hotels now aim to please. And getting around is more comfortable too. ‘Soft class’ on the railway means a spacious modern compartment for four with a clean duvet and pillow, along with boiled water and air-conditioning.
Some things take longer: it is better to draw a veil over lavatory conditions in China as the Chinese seem to have a different relationship to human waste than Westerners.
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