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grant, I salute you! Either you've been privy to The Secret Diaries of Humphrey Lyttelton or you're the famous big nose whom the locals worship as a god in Beijing, ever since he managed to sneak through Dongdan in the rush hour with hymen intact.
Having been the ghost writer of Humph's legendary diaries, I have receipt of the privileged information necessary to circumvent your surprising Shadwell left hook.
Selecting a very fit young rickshaw driver, with calves of gold-pressed latinum, I am ferried to the northwest and north of Beijing to the Shanhai Pass in Hebei Province and thence onto that section of the Great Wall renovated under the Ming dynasty.
Several thousand li later, I alight at Yinchuan, the capital of northwest China's Ningxia Hui "Autonomous Region" and "China's Quietest City" (where all vehicles are forbidden to honk their horns), and my hardy rickshaw driver, Chang, is admitted to the local People's Hospital for major reconstructive surgery.
No time to delight in peaceful Yinchuan, however, as I hop aboard the Chinese People's Railway to Baotou and travel day and night, connecting eventually to the Inner Mongolian Branch of the People's Railway, which brings me to Ulaanbaatar Central Station, just in time for a dry martini at the local Sheraton before dressing for dinner.
Oh, Mornington Crescent, Where Art Thou? and how to navigate thither without a reverse diagonal shunt? |
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