Ordeal by chopsticks.

I love Chinese food nowadays. My appreciation of its many subtleties of taste and texture has grown with the passing years and I hope that I shall one day return to China and sample its regional dishes independently.

It was all quite different the first time I was there, not long after China welcomed Richard Nixon and then opened up its border to foreign tourists. There was no alternative to joining a group. Lone travellers wanting to do their own thing were still persona non grata in the People's Republic. Itineraries had to be negotiated in advance and were meticulously supervised by official guides. You were directed to hotels in each town you visited. All meals were included and the tour literature pointed out that there would always be a set menu. That did not put me off at all. Haunted by student memories of cheap and cheerful takeaways, basically sweet and sour whatever in a foil carton with fried rice, I was sure that authentic Chinese cuisine would be a real treat for the palate.

The tour began with a couple of days in Hong Kong to allow us to unwind after the thirteen hour flight. My husband had spent four years of his boyhood in the colony and was anxious to look up some old friends of his parents. Thus it was, that my first encounter with chopsticks was at a banquet especially ordered for us by a beaming Chinese family in their local restaurant. We were the only Europeans and the subject of considerable scrutiny by the other diners. A great many dishes appeared in rapid succession and it was soon obvious to everyone that I was going to go hungry without help. After some discreet whispering from our host into the ear of an attentive waiter, a large spoon was produced from the kitchen. Much smiling and bowing ensued as I finally managed to convey some food to my plate. To my disappointment, although the food had been carefully chosen and was obviously a big treat to everyone else, I found it very bland. Worse, with our hosts' slight grasp of English and our non-existent knowledge of their language, I had no idea what I was eating. I tried to push to the back of my mind the old saying that the Cantonese will eat anything with four legs but the table, but I still found myself accepting as little as possible without giving offence and trying to bury it under the rice. Some choice morsels offered to me personally were impossible to refuse and only copious amounts of green tea made it easier for me to swallow quickly and look appreciative. The family were charming hosts, very anxious to please, and I would not have hurt their feelings for the world. My husband confessed to me afterwards that he had been struggling too. Although his parents had sometimes eaten Chinese food when socialising with their friends, he and his sister had been fed a strictly European diet.

Before we left Hong Kong, our tour guide, a tiny Chinese lady who spoke English with an accent acquired from her Glaswegian husband and completely baffled the Americans in the party, arranged a visit to one of the Aberdeen floating restaurants. The advertisement had promised a sumptuous Chinese dinner which would satisfy even the most discriminating gourmet'. Well, the food placed in front of us might just have done the trick for a gourmet with taste buds unnumbed by takeaways from the Fortune Cookie or the Wok ‘n Roll. On reflection, I think not. The set meal we were given must have been the restaurant's equivalent of economy class airline food. The first course was a watery sweetcorn soup. Its one redeeming feature was that it came with a little ceramic spoon and I hung onto that grimly when the waiter came to clear away the bowls. The rest of the dinner consisted of stewed mushrooms, diced chicken, steamed fish, plain rice and some tired looking fruit. Bland! Bland! Bland!

Never mind! The following day we were due to cross into China proper where a cornucopia of culinary delights would await us - or so we thought. Due to torrential rain and heavy flooding from the Pearl River, we arrived at our hotel in Canton (Guangzhou) too late for dinner. Ravenous, we went downstairs the next morning with eager anticipation, expecting a good choice of ‘dim sums', those neat little steamed parcels of meat, fish and vegetables. That was the first, but not the last time I breakfasted in China on toast grilled on one side only, jam Swiss roll and fried eggs. Our new National Guide, who refused to be called anything but Lim - ‘not Mr Lim, just Lim' - had ordered the ‘Western Breakfast' especially for us. It came as no surprise to learn that, despite his excellent command of English, he had never been outside his own country.

The meals were to follow a prescribed pattern as we travelled from city to city. From Canton (Guangzhou) to Kweilin (Guilin) and on to Soochow (Suzhou), Nanking (Nanjing) and Peking (Beijing), we sat down twice a day to boiled rice, soggy dark green vegetables and small tasteless chunks of unidentifiable animal matter. The only condiment on offer was soy sauce and we got through gallons of it. It enlivened the plain boiled rice, which was virtually all I ate on some days.

We liked Lim a lot. He found our antics with the chopsticks hilariously funny - one American woman insisted on holding hers like knitting needles for the first week - but he really did do his best to teach us how to use them. I could have kissed him when he pointed out that it was quite permissable to hold a bowl close to your mouth and shovel in the rice from short range. I eventually got the hang of my own chopsticks, but the extra long ones used to serve yourself from the communal dishes were much more of a challenge. Fortunately, our kindly guide assured us that a messy tablecloth was a compliment to the chef and there must have been some highly gratified cooks along our route. In the hope of inspiring us to greater effort, Lim arranged a visit one afternoon to a handicrafts factory in a little commune near Kweilin (Guilin). We watched some very ornate wooden chopsticks being made and dutifully bought some ‘for use at home'.

Lim went one better in Shanghai when he took us to a Children's Palace. There, speechless with admiration, we watched three year olds using their chopsticks to extract marbles from a tray of water. Invited to join in, we humiliated ourselves utterly and were rewarded with high pitched giggles and affectionate hugs from the toddlers. We gave them all the sweets we had bought in the Friendship Shop to make up for our breakfast and sloped off to the old Palace Hotel on the Bund where my mother-in-law's sailor brother had been stabbed in the 1930's when Shanghai was a very different place, it had been renamed the Heping, the Peace Hotel, but its cool green interior seemed unchanged and it still served excellent ice cream sundaes.

Lim was to have his own comeuppance in Shanghai, although he took it in very good part. Someone higher up the scale in the Chinese Tourist Board had arranged for us to have a European style lunch before we set off for Soochow (Suzhou). On snowy white tablecloths had been laid out a dazzling array of knives and forks. The food was unremarkable - roast chicken, French fries and peas - but what an occasion for Schadenfreude. Lim's cheery smile faltered for the first time since we had met him at the border. He took hold of his cutlery, both knife and fork in his right hand, and attempted with feigned nonchalance to set about his food. He failed dismally. Lim was a very quick learner, though, and soon got to grips with the situation. Only the awkward English way of eating peas defeated him and he opted for turning over his fork and copying the more practical Americans. He confided in me afterwards that it had been the worst food he had ever tasted. Who could have imagined in those days that Shanghai was one day to welcome KFC, Pizza Hut and McDonald's!

After the elegant service at the Peace Hotel, our next ice cream in China came as a shock. In Nanking (Nanjing), Lim took us to see a film about a girl bandit who joined the Red Army after much slaughter and self sacrifice. One of the seats in our row was missing and he sat in the gap on a wooden chair, nobly translating all the dialogue for us, which must have ruined the film for the Chinese people around us. It was very hot in the cinema so, half way through the film, he passed round a tray of ice cream blocks. The problem was, that these came without either wafers or paper and had to be eaten very fast before they melted in your hand. Most of us proved quite unequal to the challenge, and made a horrible mess with them. Only one resourceful member of our group had the presence of mind to offload hers. She leaned forward and handed it to a startled Chinese lady who was far too polite to refuse to take it.

Lim's culinary pièce de résistance was to be in Peking (Beijing). He saw our expressions when he announced that we were to meet for dinner at ‘The Sick Duck' and hastened to explain that it was one of several branches of the official Peking Duck Restaurant. It got its name from its proximity to the Capital Hospital. It was a great place for people who liked to eat duck because there was nothing else on the menu. Our group was served with starters of cold duck in aspic, shredded webs and sliced liver. These delights were followed by fried duck heart, more liver and gizzard and then the crisp skin and meat of the duck, accompanied by pancakes, sesame buns and various sauces. All that was supposed to be washed down with a terrifying, brain softening drink called Maotai, distilled from sorghum and wheat. Lim informed us enthusiastically that it could be as much as sixty-five per cent proof. I took a cautious sniff and decided to stick to the green tea. It helped down the sesame bun which was all I ate in the Sick Duck.

Shortly before we left China, Lim took us to look round a carpet factory. The workers were all very friendly and seemed to enjoy being asked questions. One man smiled encouragingly at me as I focussed on a large jar of something bright green and glutinous on his bench, so I asked Lim to ask what part it was going to play in the manufacturing process. It turned out to be the man's lunch. I really should have known that!