When we made our way downstairs for breakfast, the rain still hadn't stopped. It had rained since we had arrived and on the road sides water trickled towards overflowing drains. Breakfast was traditional again, so Annlee and I filled ourselves up on tea and coffee. Helen and Duncan had decided since it was so cold and wet that instead of walking up to the temple we would take Xara to the top and walk our way down. (Duncan had also bought a moped in Xian, which he called Steve, and they would drive Steve back up the mountain to collect Xara). I was very very grateful for Mum lending me her Jack Wolfskin warm jacket today. The mountain top temple was full of local tourists, running around like gaggles of geese, and just as loud, and the air was thick with incense, while fat rain cut through the air and splat on the ground. Ladies threw coins into the large incense burners, some with much better aim than others, and we meandered from room to courtyard through the temple. The more I walked around the temple the more it reminded me of the temple in Kung Fu Panda. Rooms were filled with bunting and fake flowers adorning statues, the buildings were freshly painted and security guards stood at each temple entrance collecting entry fees, alongside photographers who offered to superimpose you into a photo floating amongst the clouds with Buddha. We all declined. After the third temple I could faintly hear this whiney high pitched singing accompanied by a si hu. This singing turned out to be ‘opera’. I don't think I've laughed at who were obviously considered professional singers so much in my life. I'll try to upload the video I took. Fifteen minutes of the opera was enough, and helped me make my decision to not purchase tickets for the opera in Beijing.

As we began our descent, who did we bump into? Only bloody William from Pingyao! ‘Helen! Helen!’ He bellows. As we reached the bottom of the tall, slippery-when-wet staircase (Toms were a terrible footwear choice, by the way) there was a painted wall with the characters foguo shandi (Buddhist Country Land of Bliss, Pure Land) on it in large red paint. Traditionally, pilgrims would stand ten metres in front of it and with their eyes closed, arms outstretched they would walk toward the walk. If their hands reached the encircled wording then prophecy foretells they will be ‘reborn in the Pure Land’. We all tried it. None of us are going to be reborn in the Pure Land. 

Disappointed with our lack of Pure Land and soaked through we went for lunch. Without wanting to change a habit we had a buffet of egg and tomato, Kung po chicken, sweet and sour pork, spicy tofu, sautéed morning glory (Chinese spinach for those of you with your head in the gutter) and rice. 

After lunch the rain will still hammering down so Annlee and I went to the corner store, bought some hot chocolate sachets- which weirdly come with these gross little gelatine cubes in. Why ruin a perfectly good hot chocolate, China? Give me an Options sachet any day (mint, caramel or orange, eh Mum?) and went back to the hotel to watch Harry Potter and nap. We ended up watching 2 and 3 and only left the room again for a quick dinner downstairs.