"Xixian is a forbidden zone..."

The knock on my door came at ten. And as the streetlamps' haze filled the room through the thin grey curtains there was no need to turn on the light as I let the policemen in.

Black leather shoes stepped inside and stood still. A light, flicking movement then - scuffing the dust on the bare concrete floor. A tiny grey cloud. Then still again.

"We are policemen," said one of the men, standing in the shoes.

"Yes." I was shown a badge saying, presumably, in Chinese, that they were policemen.

"Do you speak Chinese?"

"No," I said, returning to sit on the bed - "sorry."
"That's okay. You have to move. This hotel is not allowed to accept foreigners."

"It's very late. I really don't want to move," and after minutes of further protestations, after letting them copy my passport and telling them of my plans, I was allowed to stay for the night.

It was not the first time I had received such visitors. Or answered such enquiries. So it was a surprise, then, the next day, to be stopped by three policemen by the side of the road.

"Do you speak any Chinese?"

"No - sorry."

The rest of the conversation was carried out only in Mandarin. Very quickly and loudly. As if volume and speed were the tools needed to overcome our language barrier.

"Tingdedong," I complained. I don't understand.

One of the officers pointed to himself and indicated that I should meet him in Xixian. I got onto my bike and their car followed me towards the town. 20 kilometres later, as the policemens' tolerance for travelling at 20 kilometres an hour came to an end, a pickup truck was commandeered, and I was driven the remaining short distance to Xixian's police station. We walked up white stairs to a small white office. A girl stood in the middle of the room. One policeman sat behind a desk, smoking and drinking tea behind small piles of paper. A plain clothed officer took a seat in the corner.

As I walked in to the room the girl smiled and shook my hand. "Very nice to meet you," she said.

"Very nice to meet you too, I think." I said.

"I've come to help the police with their questions."

"Good"

The officer smoking spoke in Mandarin and the girl translated. "Xixian is a forbidden zone - foreigners are not allowed here freely. If you come here we will think you are a spy."

"Oh."

The policeman returned to paperwork and I talked to the girl about my travels. She told me that she was an English teacher, that she taught eleven to fourteen year olds and that Xixian was her home town.

"Do you have to do this often?" I asked.

"Often?"

"Do you have to come here a lot? To help foreigners."

"I'm sorry," she said "I don't understand."

I began to feel a little nervous. "I think you may be a very good English teacher,"

"Thankyou," she replied, over the comma in my sentence.

"but if you didn't understand me I think we might have some problems here."

"Yes, yes." she said enthusiastically and the questioning began.

If the interrogation I was expecting was forthcoming we certainly would have encountered problems. As it was the questions seemed to fall straight out of the 'small talk' section of a phrasebook. What did I do at home? Why was I visiting China? Which cities had I seen?

After an hour or so the questioning was over and the English teacher turned to me, translating the policeman's words. "You have to get out of here immediately!"

"Okay."

"Also, there's a 500 yuan fine."

I apparently looked shocked and poor enough for them to let me off the fine. "But you have to pay more attention next time."

"Pay attention to what?" I asked. "There are no signs - even the policemen in the next town didn't know about this."

"Okay - but just pay more attention."

It was not a time for arguing. Or a time for mentioning that if a spy was to devote attention to their town they would, in all likelihood, not arrive as a strange white person on a bicycle. I was happy also that I managed to suppress the ever nagging question - "What are you doing here?"

I was put on a bus then to be escorted to the next open town. As I watched the landscape roll passed without the effort of turning pedals is was hard to feel angry. Perhaps one day I will fill in this missing link of my journey. A detour around Xixian may be a good idea though. And I will leave my long brown coat and pipe at home...