Trains, planes and automobiles. And buses.

Chinese trains are incredibly reliable and punctual. Just as well if you’ve been booked on a ‘hard seat’ for the eighteen hour journey between Chengdu and Kunming. Another minute longer and you’d probably never be able to walk again.

There are five ‘classes’ of train ticket you can buy. ‘Soft Sleeper’ is a private room with four bunks and steward service; the most expensive way to travel, you can even reserve all four bunks to have the place to yourself. Or you can get lucky and have it to yourself anyway if no one else has taken any of the other ones.

‘Soft Seat’ isn’t available on all trains but does what it says on the tin, really.

‘Hard Sleeper’ describes a carriage that’s stacked with rows and rows of bunks, three high. There’s not much privacy but it’s really not a bad way to travel. The only question is which bunk to take? The bottom one has enough headroom above it to be used like a seat during the day – but your fellow bedmates are as likely to sit on it as you so you can’t always stretch out when you want to. The middle and top bunks are pretty cramped in all directions but if you don’t fidget too much you’ll sleep fine.

And then there’s the ‘Hard Seat’. Ouch. I spent eighteen hours bolt upright on one of these from Chengdu to Kunming. Although the seat’s not literally hard, after that amount of time it might as well be. There’s no leg room, especially as everyone in my carriage seemed to be moving house that day and had all their belongings with them crammed into every available – and unavailable – space.

Finally, there’s the unreserved seat ticket. The cheapest option, it gets you on the train but not much more. If, as usual, all the seats are spoken for, you stand or, more probably, squat in the aisle. It’s grim for everyone and, although people were getting off at each station on my journey to Kunming, only more got on every time as we trundled into the night.

‘No smoking’ carriages are a bit of a joke too since you can puff away at the ends of each one – and there aren’t any doors. As an ex-smoker, that didn’t bother me in the slightest but one thing I’ll never get used to is spitting indoors. In restaurants, on buses or the aisles of trains, people haul the phlegm with dramatic hacking coughs from the pit of their lungs and deposit it with a certain flourish on the threadbare carpet. It’s good etiquette, I think, to rub it in a little with the tip of your foot.

People were really pleasant though. I’ve been on night trains in England and have felt genuinely threatened by fellow passengers tanked-up on lager after a football match or something. Here there was just a sense of stoicism: we’ll get through this, just take it easy. I thought it was great how, when someone left their seat to go to the toilet one of the squatters would immediately take the vacant space and sit down. Returning from the WC, the sitting passenger would give the interloper a few more minutes’ comfort before both exchanged places once more. I like that sort of thing.

In both Hard Seat and Hard Sleeper sections, an army of neatly uniformed stewards busy themselves all through the night checking tickets, sweeping up rubbish, emptying bins, closing curtains, making everything seem as normal as possible. One trolley brings cooked food which smells progressively worse the colder it gets, the longer the journey goes on. Another is stuffed with crisps, beer (hooray!) and pot noodles. As on Russian trains, there’s a constant supply of hot water in each coach so you can make your own tea – or soak your noodles – to keep you going through the night and to wake you up in the longed-for morning.

07.17. Kunming. Tired. Grumpy. I thought I’d get a hostel and take a time-out for a day while I decided what to do next but the taxi driver had other ideas and took me to completely the wrong place. Totally uninterested in my complaints, he wasn’t going to be persuaded by my protestations, especially since I’ve only learnt phrases like “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon” and “The pagoda in the middle is blue”.

So I trudged back to the station. I decided I didn’t like Kunming much. So, great, let’s go on another marathon journey, this time on a bus!

For some reason I thought Lijiang was about one hour away from Kunming. It’s actually nine. But blimey, it was a great journey. The coach was one of these hyper modern ones with really comfy seats; you sit on a kind of upper deck while the driver – and the baggage – is below. Unfortunately it also had video screens which, in China, means only one thing: nine hours of Jackie Chan.

You can also get ‘Sleeper Coaches’ which, instead of seats, have rows and rows of metal bunk beds screwed to the floor. I thought they were pretty cool when I first saw them but imagine they’d be unbelievably cramped and unpleasant after a few hours. Unlike the train you’d not be able to take a walk to stretch your legs. And as for road safety… hmmm.

Another thing I’ve learnt recently is that you’re never likely to get stranded anywhere. Wherever you go there will be private mini buses jostling for your custom ready to take you to the nearest town for a few kuai. Or likely as not you can pick up a lift from a private car – just make sure you agree a price first.

After Lijiang (in the south west), road and rail journeys took me to Guilin (in the south east) where I discovered that sometimes special discount deals on flight tickets can make flying a viable proposition. Because you’re making trips within the country you tend to forget that the actual distances involved are often the equivalent of going from Leeds to Istanbul – and you wouldn’t think twice about hopping on a plane for that, would you?

The in-flight food’s not too good though. Last time I had one sachet of desiccated bits of lemon and another of gherkin slices. Oh, and a fairy cake.

The overall service is good but, from Beijing, I ended up flying from an airport that isn’t even mentioned in the guide books. It was all a bit third world, an ex-military airfield I think that has been quickly converted to civilian use. There was a couple of hours delay but they gave us a free hot meal and it was no real hardship.

Coming into Chengdu, I thought I’d save a few kuai by taking a private car instead of an authorised taxi. Not a good idea, to be honest, especially late at night. Once I’d got in, the driver had to keep doing circuits around the airport car park while he searched for a second passenger (if he stayed in the same place, he’d get nicked). That was a surprise for a start but eventually we drove off into the night. Only then did it occur to me that he could dump me anywhere and I’d not be able to do anything. He could take my money, my passport, everything. Oops. I tried desperately to recognise any passing landmarks to reassure myself but in the end we made it to CFLS safe and sound. And, what do you know, he even stuck to the agreed price.

Phew, it's nice to be home.