We’re on our way. On a cloudy, cool early summer day we lock our door and walk to the subway, as any day. In preparing for our travels, this is something I’ve been looking forward to. No taxi, no suitcases, no airport shuttle, just an ordinary day with a backpack on.

When you travel, time is condensed. Eighteen hours on the ship to Finland is a small journey in itself. We find out where you can have a nice cup of tea and how to best navigate between the different areas. The dinner buffet has eight kinds of herring and an unexpected vegetarian section, the sun comes through the clouds, making the small islands we pass shine in the dark sea.

So far, I’ve only experienced Helsinki in very cold weather, in mid winter or chilly spring. Today it is cool and drizzling. It’s only the second day of our traveling, and we decide not to deposit our backpacks. They contain quite a lot of provisions, and are a bit heavier than would have been ideal, but not worse than allowing us to walk around freely. 

If you take the night train from Helsinki to Moscow and have your own cabin, there is a lovely table set with two bottles of water, one bottle of pear soda and a red apple for each of you. Apparently there is also a meal included, which turns out to be a very small plate with some fried cod and a little rice with peas in. It is more like a sample of a dish.

Two days in Moscow are intense and many of the ideas we’ve had about the city before we came are no longer valid. The first night it seems unbelievable that we came the same morning.

Moscow is not what we had imagined. It is a European metropolis, like Madrid, but in a larger scale. Moscow is a pleasant city to visit. Even on the Red Square, you can sit in peacefully with a mint lemonade for 100 rubel. (ca 2 $). The sun is warm but the winds are cool.

Late in the evening we get on the train that will be our place to be for the next six days. We're traveling on a Chinese train, and a Chinese train attendant receives us. The Chinese trains are older, fueled by coal, and in many ways simpler, but the interior is classic, with polished wood, dark blue carpets and red sofas.

It is not boring to travel on the Transsiberian railway, and it’s not claustrophobic. The train is worn and the standard is low, you could wish for better hygiene arrangements and more comfort, but we don’t miss anything

For days and nights, we travel through Russia. You start to feel the size of the country in your body. Mile after mile after mile. The landscape is changed, there are hills and pine forests. The grass on the fields is drier, more yellow.

After Ulan Ude the train makes a sharp turn. We leave the Trans Siberian railway to continue on the Trans Mongolian line. Suddenly the landscape is changing, now there is grass desert with high hills in the background. We are getting closer to Mongolia.

We continue through the desert, grayish yellow grass desert in all directions. The sky is overcast but still the light is blinding. Vi put on sunglasses. The land is empty apart from very few cows. Then we see camels gracing peacefully.

At the Chinese train, electricity works constantly. Internet is back on our phones and when we listen to the sound of the train it is smooth. The tracks are even. When we look out everything is big. Wide fields, proper squares, all with growing crops, long, high bridges, gigantic newly built housing areas. And the mountains, that are so much China, high, beautiful, magnificent. Often partly covered with solar cells.

Every morning we get up at six, have a simple breakfast and head for the park for training. The first day wea are between the trees, then in the shade on the stone paths and an overcast day on a temple yard. At that time in the morning there is already full activity in the park. People play badminton, do different kinds of dancing, play with bouncing feather balls, sit on benches and massage their feet.

Our first encounter with China twenty-five years ago made a deep impression on us. At that time, we came straight from Japan, and the contrast could hardly be bigger. Those who travel to Beijing today, live in a modern hotel in the shopping district and shop in these areas might get the impression that Beijing is a completely different city today, a modern metropolis as so many others.

In Taiji, movements are long and slow. It is all about finding your balance and center of gravity. Everyone warms up in their own pace and starts to train on their own, using time to work with a movement or a segment. Then all gather in doing the form. Focus, stillness, silence.

We are on our way south with bus, and have very little idea about what will happen in the next few days.

The morning is getting brighter and you can already feel the heat. Outside the house where we live, there is a whole line of charging stations for electrical bicycles along the dusty road. It is 7.30, the bus is here and we need to move on.

We continue through China by bus. Traffic runs smoothly and we pass mainly trucks. Almost all land is farmed. Acres, fruit trees, newly planted in perfect rows. Almost no animals, a few herds of goats and sheep. Tiny trees planted along the road. So far, you can see far away in all directions, but when the trees are grown, traveling this road will be very different.

In the cultural institution of a large university, in a hall with high ceilings, high windows ans shiny floors, a cultural exchange will take place.

One of the largest hospitals in Beijing is just a few stations away on the subway. Huge main building, high ceiling, beautiful light reflections. At the info desk we are shown the way, which is not here, but in the old hospital building

In this province, there are three important points of gravitation for Chinese martial art; the Shaolin temple, Chen Village and the birth of Yang style. Even if we primarily practice Chen style, the Yang style was born from Chen. Early in the morning we meet the local Yang master and some of his students on the square and on the city wall. He shows his form and we our interpretation of the Yang style.

On the street in the neighborhood where we live in south Beijing, children, adults and old are on the street, day and night. You must navigate between people, cars, bikes, scooters and all kinds of activities.

We're on or way from Shanghai to Hong Kong with train. It will take us nineteen hours. There is a table cloth and a thermos that feel familiar. So far we are alone in our 4 berth-cabin.

Morning on the train. South China in rainy mist. Organic landscape, no more straight lines. Rice fields, dense vegetation, archetypical mountains. Water masses with small boats. Water in the fields. Rain hanging in the air. Lower, dirtier houses in other styles, some from the early 1900's or 1920's. Thinking of the marshlands of Louisiana.

Under the tall trees in the large People's Park people sit on stone bridges and look at the pond with lotus flowers. An old couple feed the fish with their grandchild. A photo course with mixed participants learn how the flowers are captured best. A small group is singing to the music of a Chinese instrument. People play cards at stone tables, or something similar to Chinese chess. Clusters of people are standing around the tables, it is serious. In a small amusement park there are radio cars and carousels. We buy ice cream and watch. People are sleeping on benches. A man has a bucket of water and a large brush and paints signs with water on the stones. A calligraphy of fifteen meters has taken shape and will slowly dry and fade. In his back pocket he has a mobile playing Chinese heavy metal.

After twenty-five days of traveling, we have arrived in Hong Kong. We have traveled by metro, boat, train, bus, and train again for over 1300 miles, one third of the distance around the earth.

In a small fishing village, houses are built on the water, standing on poles. Houses are simple, it is messy, unstructured and very hot. The heat is used to dry fish, which are then salted. Fish maws are also dried and become an exclusive raw material. We drink cold water, eat ice cream and watch the tide coming in.

When we leave Hong Kong we also leave China. We've been here before 1997, and don't really think of Hong Kong as China, but the Chinese flag is always next to the Hong Kong flag. One country, two systems. Or not.

It's a strange feeling to be at an airport after all these weeks. It’ feels crowded, unsophisticated. Everyone coughs on the plane. I still like flying, seeing the earth from above. Both the fishing village we were the day before and the Buddha statue on the mountain can be seen from the plane. When we get up in the clouds, we sleep. Low-cost airlines such as HK express are not prioritized and when we land, we have to wait on the plane well over an hour before we get a gate.

Steep walk up narrow paths. The ground is covered with wet leaves. Sometimes there are steps of round logs. Sharp edges in both directions, no railings. We walk on the brown leaves. It smells damp and dark. The air above us is compact light green of high bamboo and Japanese maple.

The last day of our hike we get out into damp gray mist. This is the longest, most remote and most dramatic day of walking, across the mountain at the Touge Pass. We walk in a mysterious landscape where the trees gradually fade out and disappear.

Buckwheat flour and water is mixed together, kneaded and rolled according to strict rules. The soba chef instructs us very seriously and corrects us when we are not doing right. The round dough is twisted between each roll and the circle becomes larger and larger. After careful folding, the dough is cut with a traditional square knife, very thin strips.

In premises in the local Buddhist temple, on tatami mats, a group of people gather for Tuesday Taiji training. The second hour there is sword training. We have not trained this form before, but some principles are similar. It is difficult, but is an introduction to advanced Taiji.

We always live in Asakusa when we are in Tokyo. Here were the old entertainment districts in the early 1900s, and here we meet another Tokyo than the fancy department stores at Ginza, the high-rise buildings in Shinjuku or the technology shops in Akihabara. The houses are lower, it is cluttered, more lively, less polished.

The most remote point on our journey is at the same time the most familiar. Returning to Japan feels almost like home, but at the same time it becomes a reflection of our own home ground. We have been many times in Japan and it is difficult to generalize, but we see parallels to our own country.

Cloud Hands is a movement that exists both in Taiji and Qigong, where the hands are moved smoothly from side to side, as if they moved clouds between them, sometimes standing still, sometimes with steps to the side. The movements improve coordination, calm thoughts, strengthen the back muscles and cause the neck and shoulders to relax.