Having said that, we’ve been in China for more than three years now and still we have yet to visit the Great Wall (it’s on our travel list!). But back to Australia. In order for us to get into Dr. Doolittle mode we headed for Caversham Wildlife Park. It’s actually a park within a park as the actual ‘zoo’ is located inside Whitman Park in the north eastern side of Perth. What sets it apart is the fact that the whole operation is family owned and is entirely funded by revenue generated from visitors.

We arrived nice and early, 9:30am and the gates had just opened.

 $24 dollars per person gets you access to all areas and activities. I had researched a couple of other animal places that were slightly cheaper to get into but then you had outlandish fees of $15-25 per photo charged with, say, a koala.  Here, once you were in, that was it, no added costs.

The grounds weren’t huge but ample enough to make you feel you were getting your money’s worth. It was divided into different regions of Australia with its creatures and plants reflecting that specific terrain. Right in the middle was the kangaroo enclosure. We had originally been making a beeline for the opening farm show, but walking past the gate to see a load of kangaroos lazing about was too difficult to resist.

There were no wildlife professionals around. The few signs as you entered gave you some tips on how to interact with the huge marsupials.

I wasn’t sure on their temperament so I was overly cautious as we ventured in. Immediately a couple of them came hopping over for a closer look. Wow! It was the first time I was seeing kangaroos close up. Their heads were like a cross between a camel and rabbit with very sleepy eyes.

At the far end was a sealed bin which you could help yourself to pellets for feeding them. I scooped up a handful, knelt down on the grass and within moments I was inundated with kangaroos – white, red and grey colours. They were so docile. I particularly liked it when they put their tiny paws on your hands, claws slightly digging into your skin, as they contently munched away on the food you were offering them. What an unforgettable experience to be up close to so many kangaroos.

After a good 30 minutes interaction, we moved on to a makeshift covered dome which was where ‘Meet the Wombat and Friends’ activity was taking place. Set in, what looked like, a movie set for a cowboy movie, around five wildlife experts had their stations where you could, again, have a personalised animal encounter.

There were parrots, birds of prey, lizards, kangaroos and, by far the biggest (literally) star of the show was the wombat. In my ignorance, I had no idea just how bulky they were.

Weighing up to 35kg, it looked more like a potbellied pig than a member of the marsupial family. You had the opportunity to stroke it and have a photo but all the while it was held tight by its keeper. They are particularly sensitive around the head where its whiskers are and any agitation could set it off.

The other biggie, when it comes to Australian animals, has to be the koala (not ‘koala bear’ as its often mistakenly referred to). Again, you could walk into an enclosure, supervised by a wildlife official.

Their fur was soft-to-the-touch and I felt almost self-conscious that we were disturbing their nap as we spent a few minutes in with them but the animal keeper assured us it was fine.  At the opposite end of the grounds was the farm section which had your chickens, pigs, rabbits, guinea pigs, horses, goats and llamas. The goats were a cheeky lot always trying to take a nibble on our clothes. Just as Lezil was in her animal communication mode, a flock of ducks got up and waddled in a straight line around her – a perfect picture moment.

By this time it was nearing 1pm and we had pretty much covered the whole wildlife park. Just before leaving we went for a final goodbye to our kangaroo friends. The peak of the heat was just hitting 40C and they were all sprawled out in the shade trying to keep cool. It seemed like they too were joining their koala cousins in having a good afternoon sleep. And so laidback they were that you could have quite easily curled up on the grass next to one and it wouldn’t have flinched. Definitely one of those memorable experiences.

Walking to our parked car, we noticed a small recreational area in Whitman Park which had a paddling pool (or a ‘Mussel Pool’ as it was called).

Meant for kids, but everyone was taking advantage of the cool waters to try and bring down body temperatures. We sat there with our legs immersed in the water and started to reflect on what a good lifestyle Australia does offer. It’s always the case of seeing it through holiday-glasses, but so far it does seem like people living here do have a very good standard of living. And everyone we have come across has been talking the place up to high heaven as if it’s the one and true promised land. So far, I can’t fault them (except the prices…still too expensive for my liking!).

Being a bay, the water was more like a lake than an ocean with barely any movements lapping the shore. We certainly do not have scenes like this anywhere near Shanghai, so I was overly happy soaking up every moment. I went for a walk and came across a man who had spent the night before catching herring (38 in total) and he was contently de-scaling the fish to be cooked later. It was all-so relaxing as we conversed about his life and how he takes a month off every year to spend at his campervan home not far from the beach.

An 8 am tennis game followed with Lezil’s dad and brother before Lezil and I jumped in the car for an afternoon exploring the coastline together. This is what really gets my juices flowing – an open road, a map and an innumerable amount of tiny towns and villages to drop in on. Going due west along Geographe Bay we eventually drove downhill to the shore, arriving at a remote place called Eagle Bay. A handful of houses clung to the low-lying hills overlooking the spectacular shoreline.

The beach itself was made of silky smooth white sand and the clearest water I have ever seen. A number of outlaying rocks created knee-high lagoons allowing you to venture out without going in too deep.

Like so many occasions before, we had the whole place to ourselves. Back in the car and we drove up to the tip of the bay’s headland known as Cape Naturaliste. It’s limestone lighthouse, built in 1903, still stands today working as a warning for ships to keep their distance from the dangerous reefs and rocks dotted all along the coast. Paying for a guided tour ($11 AUD per person), our 35 minute walk around the lighthouse and up to the top, was a blustery affair. The wind had picked up pace, so much so, that our guide’s glasses were blown off into the nearby shrubbery.

The views from the top (123m above sea level) were literally breathtaking as you struggled to get your words out against the prevailing wind. Clinging tightly to the metallic white painted rails, we did the 360 degree walk to capture the views all around before getting down to ground level. Seeing as though it was so windy, I thought we’d go to Yallingup which is an aboriginal word meaning “place of love”. Nowadays, the main thing associated with the seaside town is surfing.

With huge rollers crashing in, this was the place to try and tame a wave. Before getting in on the beach action, we decided to park up for some lunch at the only visible outlet – Shaana Café and Restaurant. We walked in 45 minutes before the advertised lunch closing time of 3pm. A friendly lady seated us at two comfy arm chairs that looked like they had come from an English tearoom. Two LP covers were handed to us as she said, “Here are your menus,” in a decidedly European-sounding accent. How cool!

We slipped out the laminated menus from within the record covers. The menu was an Italian fanfare with authentically described dishes and ingredients.

I ordered a calzone filled with mozzarella cheese and spinach and Lezil went for a type of oven-baked pumpkin dish saturated in an intense tasting tomato sauce and cheese. Both dishes got a 5 stars rating. This was all too real Italian to be made by an Australian. Ordering our chocolate hazelnut cake to be boxed up to go, we got chatting with our friendly European lady.

The story goes like this. She, Chiara, and her husband Alfonso and three year old daughter moved to Australia and bought the place last June, spent two months doing it up and opened their restaurant in September.

They employ a staff of around eight people including two chefs in their early twenties brought over from Italy (that explains the perfection of the Italian recipes we tasted!). It was so captivating hearing her story. After a few years running their business there in Yallingup, they plan to do an incredible overland trip from Singapore back to Italy with a six-month stint in India – now that’s what I call global citizens.

Doing and email swap and promising to keep in touch (what a friendly bunch!), we could hear the commentaries of an ongoing surf competition as we stepped out of the restaurant.

There was a gazebo, rather struggling against the crazy gusts of winds, where spectators stood to watch surfers battle it out in the water below. There were different categories, each awarded for their style and the wave they managed to catch. We stayed for the stand up and paddle segment which uses a thicker board than a surfer’s one and comes with a paddle.

I really admired the determination of the competitors as each wave rose up like an angry dragon unravelling its breath of fire with venom. And seeing the odd person getting caught in the wave was pretty nail-biting to watch. I wasn’t all clued up with all the rules and points.

 So I approached one official behind the competition stand area. The split second he uttered his first few words, I had to stop him in mid-sentence, saying “Eres tú latino?” (“Are you Latino?”) He paused looking at me wondering if I actually had spoken to him in Spanish?

It transpired that we were neighbours – Geraldo was Peruvian, and me the Ecuadorian. He works as a surf teacher and competition organiser and fell in love with Australia after a simple holiday trip more than 20 years ago. Despite his long time down under, his South American accent was as thick as ever and he was equally passionate about his adopted country.

The day wrapped up with a major indulgence at one of the region’s best loved ice cream brands – Simmo’s. It actually came over from Northern Ireland and was first set up by a father and son team in 1993. Today it has several outlets in Western Australia with over 100 flavours to choose from. The scoops were generously placed on the cones as we took them to the garden out the back. My Apple Pie flavour was spot on with the chunky bits of cooked apple seasoned in cinnamon, tasting like it had just come out of the oven. Lezil had the flavour of the day, Burnt Caramel with Salty Caramel Swirl. Ice creams put away in record time, it was back to the resort for an early evening match of tennis and swim (much calorie-burning needed!). 

Margaret River – an area known for its wine production – was our destination for a long weekend’s stay. The journey south from Perth would cover over 200km using mostly free-flowing freeways to get there in around three hours (including a couple of stops). 

By 10am our party of two cars pulled into the quaint town where the Bussell Highway we had used to get into the region, formed the actual high street with shops and restaurants lined up on both sides.

We grabbed a cooked brekkie before Lezil’s entire family (Dad, Mom, brother Jesse) myself, Lezil and Brook (Jesse’s girlfriend) went just south of Margaret River town to A Maze’N. The main attraction there is its imposing hedge maze which was first planted in 1994 and has been growing ever since.

Perhaps because it was lunch time, we were practically the only ones there and so we had free reign to enjoy this real-life Alice in Wonderland adventure. To add that competitive edge, we split into three couples teams.

There was one entrance and one exit but you also had to reach the central look-out point. And, for extra points, you had to come across eight different benches – each a type of animal or object. To make sure we played by the rules, photos of each bench and one from the middle look out platform had to be taken.

Slapping on some sunblock and armed with bottles of water each, a cloud of dust kicked up as we hurriedly ran into the maze’s entrance.

The hedges were exceptionally well laid out as it was impossible to tell if you were coming to a dead end (as was the case with Lezil and I quite a few times!). Jesse and his girlfriend Brook were the first to reach the centre, noted by their taunts of “We are here…!” In the meantime we played cat and mouse with Lezil’s parents trying to lose them and lead them down wrong paths.

The earlier speed we had gleefully displayed had slowed down to a gentle walk as the sun’s heat was beginning to take its toll. We eventually stumbled across the central lookout point for a breather before launching into the mission of finding the exit. There were a few times where I was tempted to sneak through one of the emergency exits and run around the outside to fake a win, but my moral side told me otherwise. 40 minutes later and we could hear that both other pairs had completed the task.

Now, it was just the case of saving face by at least completing the maze which, thankfully, we managed to do five minutes later. The winners: Jesse and Brook.

Apart from some paths and gardens, there were other solving-type games including a brick maze (far simpler to complete) and a left-hand maze where you could only get out by taking left turns and going straight – a lot harder than it looked. Over at the hibiscus garden was an outdoor version of noughts-and-crosses. Here, I managed to redeem myself by winning my rounds to become eventual champion.

I absolutely loved our visit to the Margaret River Dairy Company where they had different cheeses to try (hands up, I am a cheese addict). The Port Club Cheddar was the winner for me and I immediately bought one to take away. It had a light but sharp taste, leaning on the mature side. I could already seem myself savouring slices of the stuff on crunchy water crackers with a stick of celery on the side.

Another 15 minutes down a couple of country lanes and we arrived at the Margaret River Chocolate Company – somewhat of an institution in the area.

This place was huge with every conceivable chocolate variety under the sun and moon. I’m not usually a white chocolate person (I prefer my darker varieties – read what you may into that!) but their white chocolate button samples were simply sublime. It was also great to see them stocking chocolate produced from other countries including my native Ecuador which I was particularly proud of. What caught my eye, or my palette to be exact, was the combination of chilli and chocolate – sweet and fiery at the same time.

Having been on the go since 5am that morning, we were more than ready to head to our accommodation. The Bayview Geographe Resort, as its name suggests, is right on Geographe Bay with direct beach access. The hotel is made up of 28 acres of parkland with mostly villa-style accommodation. Ours was a spacious three-bedroom holiday home with kitchen, dining room, living room, TVs in all rooms and ensuite. Other facilities included two swimming pools, three tennis courts and a games room.

As Lezil and I had lost the maze challenge, our forfeit was to make dinner that night.

Settling down on my big blue beach towel, with my earphones in and music pumping away I was enjoying the awesome views of Cottesloe Beach and the coastline further up. I was still dripping wet having just got out of the water after a 30 minute swim in the warm Indian Ocean.

Lezil had gone down to the nearby outdoor shower to wash off the sea water. I closed my eyes, preferring to allow the sun to dry me. Moments later, I took my iPod out to see what track I was listening to. It was the 2009 Hed Kandi compilation mix – an album I had heard, literally, hundreds of times.

I sat up to see three Australia lifeguards moving swiftly along the beach blowing whistles and calling people to urgently come out of the water. The siren was endless, a bit like the one you’d associate with air raids during a war. I grabbed by camera and headed down to the shoreline to get a closer look. Standing next to me was a young lady from Perth and I asked her to let me know what was going on. “Two sharks have been spotted close to the beach,” she said.

Suddenly a loud helicopter sound came roaring above.

I remember seeing one up beach while we were swimming earlier. She told me the coast guards use helicopters to monitor the waters and any potential threats to swimmers. And the fact that they had been flying around pretty much all afternoon, meant that the inevitable shark alarm was bound to go off. It’s no joke – being shark aware. A local website Shark Alarm has a page dedicated to sightings which practically has daily updates.

A large number of people had gathered on the rock jetty where shark movements had been spotted in the water.

As it was a clear day, water visibility was good. In the frantic rush to get out, one kite surfer lost his foot and his board was left drifting away in the water. I managed to grab a quick chat with one of the lifeguards who was very a-matter-of-fact about the whole thing.

He said that it was dangerous to allow anyone back in the water because of the high shark activity and that the beach would remain closed for at least an hour. Strangely enough, a fatal shark attack occurred on this very beach one year ago. A 64 year old man went for a morning swim whilst his family waited on shore to have breakfast with him. By 9:30am the alarm was raised and eventually his swimming suit was recovered with clear signs of shark bites. That time around, Cottesloe Beach remained shut for two days.

There are around 370 species of sharks of which over 100 can be found in Western Australian waters. According to the Surf Life WA rescue helicopter service, there have been over 246 shark sightings so far this summer.  Ironically, the fact that there is so much shark activity in the area is clear indication of water cleanliness and a healthy marine environment.

I must admit, experiencing a shark warning firsthand has made me slightly wary of swimming in too deep. There was I earlier doing breaststroke in about two metres plus of ocean water, not realising the potential danger lurking further out.

A 35 minute drive south along the coast from Perth lies the small seaside town of Rockingham. One of its main attractions is a small spec of islands which can be found literally a few hundred metres off shore.

A designated nature reserve, the whole area comes under Shoalwater Marine Park with its two main islands – Penguin Island and the much smaller Seal Island being where most visitors head. It was all very low-key and eco-conscious as we cued to buy our tickets for both the ferry crossing and the seal tour. The main focus here was conservation and so, on the actual islands there are no shops and minimal signs of man’s involvement.

The huge expanse of striking blue from the sky almost seemed to blend with the various shades of turquoise of the ocean.

It reminded me of a type of island and water scene you’d see in somewhere like the Caribbean. The small boat was loaded up with that morning’s tourists and the journey across the bay took a mere eight minutes. To our left was a visible sand bar which meant, technically, you could wade across from the mainland to Penguin Island. But the sea being the sea, tides and currents are unpredictable and so warning signs were all over the place discouraging people from attempting it.

Disembarking at Penguin Island, we waited on the jetty for our first boat tour.

The day was a true scorcher with unbroken sunshine and temperatures in the high 30s.

We piled on to the second boat which had a glass bottom. Off we set, bound just north of Penguin Island into open sea where the waters became decidedly choppier. Our guide gave us the lowdown on the island’s ecological history which included our famed penguin and seal friends. Normally, there are regular sightings of wild dolphins in the area but unfortunately that morning they must have been busy frolicking elsewhere.

As we turned down the east side of Seal Island, a wide sandy white beach appeared with three huge chubby seals sunbathing. Behind them was a flock of pelicans, lazily pruning themselves oblivious to the camera snapping that was taking place just a few metres away. Seal Island is totally off limits to people with only the odd conservationist allowed on for observing the animals. These seals were in the true natural habitat and it was awesome to witness it.  After a few runs up and down the island, we headed back to the main jetty on Penguin Island where our 45 minute tour ended.

As its name suggests, the island is home to the Blue Penguin – the smallest of all 17 species of penguins. It gets its name from the blueish tint to its feathers. They are very shy creatures and hunt during the day and only come on land at night. So again, the chances of seeing any wild ones were pretty remote. However, the small Discovery Centre on the island is where ten captive penguins are kept. These were rescued from all sorts of problems from injuries to being orphaned and were not strong or savvy enough to be let back into the wild.

We had arrived just in time for their midday feed. Jane, one of the animal conservationists, came out with her head microphone and gave the audience a 30 minute interactive talk on theses cutest of cute creatures. She casually threw bits of fish into the pool to demonstrate the speed at which these penguins can zip about. Once on land, however, it was a very different story. This is where the infamous penguin waddle was demonstrated and despite being the youngest, Splash, at only 22 months stole the show. In fact, he was the only one tame enough for Jane to handle as the other ones apparently give some nasty bites with their beaks.

Having had our seal and penguin knowledge firmly fattened up, we headed to the main beach on east side of the island which faced the near-still waters of the bay. Here, the water was crystal clear. And after munching on a few snacks we had prepared earlier for lunch, Lezil and I put our newly purchased snorkelling equipment to the test. The ladies at the mainland ticket office were kind enough to have smeared our goggle lenses with toothpaste which, they told us, would prevent it from fogging up. It worked!

The island and sea may have been reminiscent of the Caribbean but underwater was a much simpler display. You could see an abundance of sea grass along with some fish but they were almost camouflaged with the beige coloured sand. Still, it was fun to do! I ventured in the water along the coast a bit when I got somewhat startled to come face to face with a fat male seal. Thankfully he was busy dozing in the sun but I wasn’t taking any risks after our tour guide warned us to keep a 10 metre distance should you come across one.

With about an hour left until the return boat ride, we packed up our snorkelling gear, put our flip flops on and went for a wander around the island itself. You had to stick to the boarded walk ways, again all in the name of preserving the island as much as possible. It was an excellent 2km loop which took you inland to various lookout points then to the other side – the much windier and exposed side. The sea was decidedly rougher with large rolling waves crashing into the sand and rocks.

Despite this being a big tourist pull for the area, it never felt overrun by gawking visitors.

A sure sign that my Chinese must be getting better became apparent the other day. A planned trip out to the country failed when our Tom Tom told us “…you have arrived at your destination…”. Lezil and I peered out of the car to see nothing but forest all around us with no Koala reserve in sight.

We drove on for another 15 minutes in the hope of finding an entrance but we came up empty. There was the odd road sign warning us to keep a look out for kangaroos, but that was it. It was getting late in the afternoon and technically there was only an hour left until the reserve closed, so we decided to postpone the visit for another day. (And look at a good old-fashioned map for the exact coordinates!) We headed back into Perth’s suburbs and made a pit-stop at a shopping complex. We decided to pick up some eats at Coles (a type of Australian Tesco). It was totally weird seeing shelf after shelf of Western food.

Back in Shanghai, not even 1% of what was sold there we could get our hands on and even then, it would be relegated to half an aisle of so-called ‘imported goods’. Of course, we came across some local produce including kangaroo meat. Now, that’s not so uncommon being in Australia and all. But what we saw was kangaroo meat for pets, in the frozen food section, in between the frozen pizzas and frozen dim sum. How pet food got grouped there, and of the kangaroo meat variety – beats me.

For some reason, they had run out on cucumbers. We paid for the rest of our items and near the mini shopping precinct exit was a small grocers.

I guessed by his Asian appearance and his accented Chinglish, that he must have been Chinese. I flipped into Mandarin mode. “Zhe shi yi yang de ma?” (Is this the same?) He stood back and starting flapping his hands like he had just won the state lottery. A flood of Mandarin came my way and I had to ask him to slow down. (I’m not that good yet!) He asked how I learnt to speak Mandarin and I told him that both Lezil and I are currently living in Shanghai. It was a fast-moving conversation with him firing all sorts of questions at me. My vocabulary is limited but I managed to get across what my profession is, why we were in Australia, how long the flight is between Shanghai and Perth and, strangely enough, what an average teacher’s salary in Shanghai is.

My cell phone rang. It was Wesley, our friend who was outside waiting to take us to the airport. When it comes to air travel, I am stickler for getting out on time. I hate feeling flustered and rushed, especially when it comes to a long haul flight. And Australia was definitely that.

This was an indirect flight to Perth with a stopover in Singapore. Just over 14 hours total travelling time. Doing a last sweep through our apartment and giving our cat Winnie a quick hug good bye, we were soon heading down the highway towards Pudong International Airport – one of two huge airports in Shanghai.

Inside Terminal 2, we savoured the last of the Chinese New Year celebrations we would see with the check-in counters all decorated in festive red lanterns.

My impeccably planned morning meant that we had arrived 20 minutes before the Singapore Airlines check-in desks were opened. We were the first in line. It was my maiden voyage with this Southeast Asian airline of which I had read many good reviews about. Once opened, the counter staff were efficient and within minutes we had our boarding passes to hand.

This is me being transparent now. I don’t like flying. I can’t really pin point it to one specific incident, but the thought of being up in the air is enough to quadruple my heart rate in seconds. It’s an uncomfortable feeling but one that I have learnt to harness in over the years. I usually prefer to eat before a flight so at least I know I have my belly semi-full. Our favourite Japanese fast food noodle chain, Ajisen Ramen, had an outlet at the terminal so we went for that.

Oh, and I forgot to add that a couple of days before I had been recovering from a dodgy stomach. I had just about recovered in time for the journey, or so I thought. At gate B10 stood our Boeing 777-300 aircraft. The call for passengers to board came over the tannoy system. Despite my lack of eagerness towards air travel, sitting by a window is must. The cabin inside was spacious with good legroom provided in economy. Each seat had its entertainment screen – something which a lot of Chinese airlines lack.

The head of cabin crew recited the first few lines of a scripted welcome speech. I usually home in on the weather segment which this time round, I wished I hadn’t. “….and weather on route, we will be experiencing high level turbulence, I mean high level clouds, so there may be some turbulence….” I gave Lezil a defeated look. My hands were clamming with sweat and I was chewing those mint candies like a lifelong pill-popping addict. Why today?

“Cabin crew, take off stations please…” announced the pilot. The sound of two Rolls Royce engines roared and we powered our way down the runway, nose titled up, and then we were airborne. Quickly climbing up to 10,000 feet Shanghai below, although a partly cloudy day, was under a clearly visible dome of smog. You could even see the definite edges where the intense city smog ended. Quite an eye-opener.

Touching down at Singapore’s Changi Airport, we stripped off our winter clothing layers from Shanghai. We had a three hour wait for our connecting flight. By this time, I started feeling rough. My stomach was not in the best shape and two trips to the toilet proved it. Great.  Nibbling on a few crackers, I curled up on a couch in one of a number of comfortable waiting areas. Despite it being past midnight, the place was buzzing with shoppers, restaurants and entertainment zones.

Back on board, and I was already willing the seconds, minutes and hours to go by as we took off at 1am. Travel when you don’t feel well is the worst. Flying over Indonesia and then over the vast Indian Ocean, I struggled to sleep. My frequent bathroom visits ensured no shut-eye for me. Five hours later and the long-awaited announcement that we would be making our decent into Perth came. It was dawning and the ocean below was beginning to display its brilliant shades of blue.

Rapidly descending from our 39,000ft altitude and we got our first glimpse of land – it was Rottnest Island which is located about 18 kilometres from Australia itself. Then the motherland came into view. So flat and basking in glorious sunshine. It was as if the Australian Tourist Board couldn’t have staged a better welcome for a couple of first time visitors like Lezil and I.

Flying into Perth, I was surprised how small it seemed. More like a town, than a city. There were no high-rise buildings to be seen except for the tiny few clustered in Perth’s central business district.

A smooth touchdown and we taxied our way to the gate. I breathed a sigh of relief. Flying over with for four weeks. It was 6:15am and already the outside temperature was 23C. Nice!

Australian immigration and customs was something else. It took considerable amount of time to clear. Everything was checked and things not allowed in, were immediately disposed of. Lezil’s family – her father, mother, brother and his girlfriend – were all grinning from ear-to-ear as we came through arrivals. Everyone embraced each other, hardly believing that we had finally arrived after much planning over the last six months.

For a moment it looked like we wouldn’t be able to attend our friend Nikki’s wedding. The four days leading up to the grand day, Lezil had been struck down with a strong chest and throat infection which made Marge Simpson sound like an angelic chorister.

Lezil had been asked to sing and we were literally pulling every concoction out of the book to try and bring on a speedy recovery. Dinner with some friends on New Year’s Eve was cancelled to maximise rest time and on that New Year’s Day morning, still she was sounding hoarse as we rehearsed in our apartment. 

This is where the support of good friends really makes or breaks a situation. Get-well texts came through from a number of people. Our Shanghainese mama, Miranda, dropped off a big bag of herbal remedies, a purple shawl and a beautiful dark mink fur coat she bought in Canada. Another friend, Camille, put her background in hair, beauty and well-being into action as she massaged Lezil and readied her by doing a fantastic job on her hair and make-up. Lezil looked every bit of a 1920s superstar during the height of the Shanghai jazz scene.

Swigging back a concentrated fresh lemon and honey mix to soothe her throat, it was late afternoon and time to head to the Hongqiao Gardens – a restaurant complex where the wedding was being held.

Patricia, Nikki’s MC and organiser, was waiting for us outside the entrance as our taxi pulled up. “Wow! Your coat is amazing, welcome to the wedding,” she greeted Lezil. This is where the artist manager-side of me kicked in as fired a number of questions at Patricia. I wanted to make sure that everything was in place so that my wife could enjoy her performance.

“So, the wedding will start at 6:18pm,” informed Patricia. Did I hear right? “6:18pm?” I asked her with a puzzled look. She went on to explain that the time reflects lucky Chinese numbers with the ‘six’ in Mandarin (liu) sounding like the word ‘fluid’ implying ease of business and the ‘eight’ (ba) connected with the word ‘prosper’. This sounds all good and well, but in reality, what wedding starts on time? I’ve attended my fair-share of big days, all of which started at varying degrees of lateness. The most patience-testing had to have been a lavish Nigerian wedding I went to in London (UK) which saw guests waiting over three hours until the bride finally appeared.

Whilst I doubted very much I’d be taking part in a West African money dance or eating some jollof rice, I already had in my mind a 7pm kick off. Inside, by some amazing coincidence the colour scheme was white and violet, matching Lezil’s deep purple ball gown. Nikki the bride and her groom Kong were, appropriately, the centre of attention as they welcomed their guests. It was like a red carpet arrival with poster-perfect airbrushed photos of the happy couple prominently displayed as people took turns to pose in the designated picture-taking area.

The evening was to start with the wedding ceremony followed by dinner. It was already 5:15pm as we glanced over the seating plan. It was clear that Lezil and I were the only two foreigners in attendance with our names being the only ones not in Chinese characters. Patricia showed us to our table. The hall was a medium sized, L-shaped room with a small stage at the bend of the ‘L’. By the stage stood a three-tiered cake which must have been over a metre tall. On the opposite end was a small champagne glass tower. We ran a quick microphone and track test before sitting.

I was very surprised to see practically all 130 guests already present, enjoying some drinks with still 30 minutes left to the start. The wedding was actually going to hit its intended bull’s eye timing. Lezil was busy downing warm water with lemon and Chinese green tea. Suddenly the Bridal Chorus played from a laptop out back and a line of indoor poppers were let off. I glanced at my mobile. Not a second late, it read “6:18pm”. This was some serious wedding precision. There were no religious elements involved. The short 20 minute ceremony started off with a Kong’s media company boss’ address.

A quick vocal warm up and Lezil was soon walking on stage as the audience applauded. Power ballads are overly popular in China and we thought we’d give them a classic – Vanessa William’s ‘Save The Best For Last’. As soon as the first chorus was sung, clapping had started in acknowledgment of Lezil’s masterful control of her notes and voice projection. It’s always a bit nerve-wracking for me to see my lovely wife up there but never for a moment did I doubt she’d be a hit. Petite, beautiful and clearly talented – she fits the perfect mould to an Asian perception of what a Pop singer should be like.

The next set of speeches had already started as we settled back in our chairs. Throughout the evening, the couple kept coming and going, each time the bride in a new outfit. She looked stunning in all of them, but it was her third and final one – a traditional red Qipao – that was the most eye-catching. To satisfy Nikki’s request, Lezil’s second performance was a cover of the Carpenter’s ‘On Top of The World’ which got the guests clapping along. 

In Western weddings, a highlight is the throwing of the bouquet. The same ideal was adopted but instead of lobbying it backwards over her head, the bride held the bouquet with eight strings (that lucky number again!) dangling below. Eight guests were invited on stage, each holding a string.