The spellbinding trip to China that taught me how to enjoy being single again

Times

2 days ago

Last year I was in a sweaty, chaotic café in Delhi when a housefly landed on my glass of lassi. My husband, Peter, noticed and swapped his lassi with mine wordlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
'Ah,' remarked Diana, a young woman on our tour. 'The perks of being married.' I laughed and sipped from my unmarred glass. After 14 years with Peter, I was used to these small kindnesses. What I didn't know then is that within six months we would be separated.
We had become more like housemates and our break-up was overdue, but it's impossible to spend so much of your life with someone and not feel adrift without them. To be honest, I didn't know if I could be alone. Before Peter, I was a serial monogamist and hadn't been single since the age of 18 (I'm now 43).
After some desultory months at home, I decided to reset with a holiday. I had taken a few solo trips before but only to western cities such as San Francisco and Berlin. For years I had wanted to go to China, a country rich in history and culture, but Peter had already visited so it had always been low on our list. Now I finally had reason to go.
I turned to G Adventures, which specialises in small-group tours, and booked a 15-day trip from Beijing to Shanghai. The itinerary included all the usual big stops — the Great Wall of China, Chengdu and the Terracotta Warriors — but also a number of quieter sights: a hike to a mountaintop monastery; a farmstead lunch in Xi'an, northwest China; and a cooking class in Yangshuo, in the south of the country. I was sure that in those quiet corners I would find what I was looking for: space, time and calm.
Arriving in Beijing, the first difference I notice is that I'm strangely keyed up before meeting my group. I have been on six trips with G Adventures and have found everyone I've met on them to be fun, warm and personable, but this time I won't have the safety net of a partner. I've been in a couple for so long, I've forgotten the extra social labour that solo travellers must perform. I can't opt out of a conversation when I'm tired or bored because no one else will pick up the slack. I can't sit in companionable silence because, with strangers, silence is awkward. I am aware of (and slightly embarrassed by) my eagerness to make an impression. I smile warmly, remember people's names, make jokes and generally try to be charming. It works and I gel well with our group of ten, which includes a nice balance of age, gender and nationality: a statuesque Swiss who works in tech, an American teacher turned artist, an Irish software engineer and a retired Welshman who used to fix helicopters.
The trip begins at the Mutianyu section of the Great Wall of China, 50 miles north of Beijing. Our guide advises us to start at the second entrance gate, which offers three ways to reach the wall: a 40-minute climb on foot, or a cable car or chairlift, which allow for more time at the top. I opt for the chairlift and board it somewhat flustered. I have worn too many layers and my jacket doesn't fit in my bag. As I grapple with it, I notice a fellow tourist handing her jacket to her partner, who stuffs it into his backpack. Ah, I think. The perks of being married.
As we rise above the Mutian valley, I catch my first glimpse of the wall. Its sidewinder shape slips in and out of the mist as it traces the crest of surrounding hills. The Mutianyu section is less busy than Badaling, which is more easily accessible from Beijing. There are touristy stalls on approach but the wall itself is surprisingly quiet. The views are vast and dramatic: a steep sweep to the east and a long, lazy meander to the west. Watchtowers emerge from the haze in the sort of postcard picture that draws wistful tourists from the west. It's no coincidence, perhaps, that three members of our group have gone through recent break-ups.
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I walk a three-mile section of the wall and it occurs to me that this is the only one of the new seven wonders of the world I have seen alone. All the others — Chichen Itza, Christ the Redeemer, the Colosseum, Machu Picchu, Petra and the Taj Mahal — I saw with Peter. This is bittersweet but also befitting. I'm single now and if I want to continue to explore the world, I have to be comfortable doing it alone.
For the first few days in Beijing, however, I stick close to the group. The vast Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City, an imperial palace complex, are intensely busy and I'm not yet ready to explore on my own. On day four we head to Xi'an, home to the Terracotta Army. It's my first time on a bullet train and I'm delighted that it's so clean, quiet and spacious — and then there's the speed. Landscapes pass in a blur as we cover the 675-mile distance in less than five hours.
The Terracotta Army is a true spectacle, epic in scale and exquisite in detail. The crowds, however, are overwhelming and I find that I enjoy myself far more when I stop trying for the perfect picture and use the time to simply observe. After the rush and the noise, I decide to take some time alone. My sense of direction is abysmal and I'm afraid of getting lost, but I head to Xi'an's city wall and the surrounding Huancheng Park. As I stand on the bus, in a crowd of strangers, in this very foreign city, somehow I feel braver than on the skydives and bungee jumps I've done in other countries.
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In Huancheng Park, I stumble upon a delightful scene: groups of older women have gathered to dance, play and exercise. There is an aerobics class in one corner, ballroom dancing in another and badminton in a third. It almost makes me emotional. It's so rare to see older women in public spaces taking simple enjoyment in their bodies. I certainly can't imagine my mother — an immigrant to the UK from patriarchal Bangladesh — dancing in a park. There is freedom in these women's movements, a grace, confidence and lightness. I watch for an age and leave thoroughly energised.
Our next stop is Sichuan province's Chengdu, 450 miles south and four hours by bullet train, where we visit the Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding. To beat the crowds we arrive at the opening time of 7.30am and spend the morning watching the endearing pandas eat, loll about and play. From Chengdu we go on to Emei Shan mountain, 100 miles southwest, to see the Leshan Giant Buddha, an impressive 71m-tall statue carved into a sandstone cliff.
Our penultimate stop is Yangshuo in Guangxi province, eight hours away by train, famous for the Li River and its green karst mountain landscapes. Here, I face my biggest challenge of the trip: a three-hour bike ride along the Li. I learnt to cycle in my late twenties and was in a serious crash in 2016. Since then, Peter has kept me safe on roads abroad, often wading into traffic to create a wide berth for me, but now I am alone.
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The ride is challenging but the scenery is unmissable: a glittering river studded by towering karst peaks and the unlikely sight of Moon Hill, a giant natural arch with a perfect circle in the middle. I complete the ride unscathed and victorious.
My new-found zest must show. That night, at the Riverside Garden, a buzzy bar with excellent margaritas, a man buys me a rose — a playful custom with tourists. On the night that follows, I receive a second rose, this time with drinks for the table.The attention, which remains lighthearted and non-intrusive, reminds me that there is a fun side to being single.
Later that night I come across a group of women dancing in a courtyard. Buoyed by the mood — and a glass of wine or two — I accept their call to join in. As I move with the women, I feel light, happy and free. It occurs to me that if Peter were here, I wouldn't be joining in: my tipsy merriment tended to embarrass him. I realise that perhaps it's no bad thing to be adrift. A partner may be a tether but tethers keep us in one place.
At the very start of our trip, our guide warned us, 'China is not a holiday. China is an experience' — and she was right. When I stood on the Great Wall and noted that my seventh wonder of the world was the one I was seeing alone, I hadn't imagined that, mere days later, I would feel so comfortable being by myself. My solo trip to China taught me to be brave — and that bravery takes different guises. Sometimes it's bungeeing into a literal abyss, sometimes it's dancing with strangers in the dark and sometimes it's as quiet as taking a walk in a foreign park.
Kia Abdullah travelled independently. G Adventures has 14 nights' room-only from £2,999, including some extra meals (gadventures.com). Fly into Beijing and out of Shanghai
What Happens in the Dark by Kia Abdullah (HarperCollins £16.99) is out now. To order a copy go to timesbookshop.co.uk. Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members