I have just returned from a four-week holiday in China, my first visit ever. Wow!

I have to reach for my thesaurus for the appropriate superlatives to describe what I saw: thousands upon thousands of kilometres of high speed rail (my personal land speed record has now reached 308 kph – my guide was apologetic that we hadn’t nudged closer to 350 kph). One railway station we pulled into had 24 parallel tracks serviced by 12 platforms, freeway overpasses stacked 3-4 high on top of each other everywhere you looked, 40-storey apartment buildings stretching from one horizon to the other, daringly modern architecture that makes Brisbane (my home town) look dowdy in comparison, and Shanghai by night as viewed from a River Cruise simply takes your breath away.

Everywhere I and the 12 other Westerners on our guided tour went, we were accosted by smiling locals who politely wanted to know if they could take selfies with us. The scare campaign of “China bad” instigated by America has frightened most Western tourists away, so we were a novelty.

The few Chinese who spoke English were witty, self-deprecating, intelligent, well-versed on world politics and immensely proud of China’s 5000-year history, and what their country has achieved in their lifetime.

They could also be astonishingly frank.

“Our government lies to us,” one woman I spoke to said.

“We know the government lies to us.

“Our government knows that we know it lies to us.

And still it lies to us.”

“Well, you are better off than we are,” I told her. “At least you you know when your government is lying. My government also lies to us, and most of my stupid fellow Australians think the government is telling us the truth.”

I then showed her clips on my phone of the Sydney Morning Herald’s “Red Alert” stories, and how we need to spend $360 billion on useless nuclear submarines to protect us from — wait for it — China. The look of astonishment on her face was something to remember: “But you are so far away,” she protested).

Another local I spoke to was equally cynical. A fellow member of the tour group had bought a copy of the local newspaper as a souvenir, and he offered to translate it for us. “Front page news, Xi Jinping has just returned from Russia,” he said. He then flipped through the newspaper pages, pretending to summarise the articles. “Oh look,” he said, “The economy is booming, construction is up, inflation is down, the people are happy…” He folded the newspaper and handed it back with a wry smile. “George Orwell,” he snickered.

I managed to corner him for a private conversation. “Oh yes,” he said. “I’ve read Animal Farm and 1984. They are very popular books in China. The people see them as relevant.”

I pressed him further. “But surely you have read The Little Red Book – The Thoughts of Chairman Mao?” He was taken aback. “No, why would I read that? Nobody these days is interested in that. Maybe history students, I suppose, but not for most students.”

We chatted a bit further. He was surprised to learn that Australians were afraid of China. I explained to him the grip that America has on the Australian psyche, and how mass media has been used to push a narrative which is not to Australia’s advantage.

“But we look up to the West for its freedoms,” he said. I shrugged. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

There were only two things I didn’t like about China.

Pollution.

“You lucky today,” said our guide, as she took us up to the 88th floor of the Jin Mao tower in Shanghai. “Pollution not so bad today.” Well, I could faintly discern the outlines of buildings up to the 300-metre mark, after that it was just soup. I showed her a photo from my high-rise apartment’s window with crystal blue sky as a back drop to the Toowoomba Ranges, a mere 100km away. Her eyes widened. “Your air so fresh,” she said. “We are the lucky country,” I smiled.

And sobriety.

I couldn’t get a decent drink anywhere. Whereas a pub or a club is on every second city corner in Australia, Chinese cities appear to have zero watering holes. Even the sin-city of Macau, with its acres and acres of gambling tables, crowded by thousands and thousands of stone-cold sober Chinese, fanatically concentrating on the fall of the card in Baccarat, did not have an alcoholic drink in sight. Every city I visited was a buzz of activity with teeming millions rushing from their first job to their second job — so one guide told me — often working 12-hour days, intent on trying to get ahead. Their work ethic is ferocious. Well, if you can’t settle down for a good drinking session in the evening, I suppose the only thing left to do is work.

I left China with a feeling of sadness. We could all be such good friends. Australia with its boundless natural resources, China with its boundless need for more of those resources. Eight hundred million people raised out of poverty in the last 40 years alone (according to Martin Jacques in When China Rules the World) and another couple hundred million to go. Both countries could benefit enormously.

I returned to Australia on 16 May — to the real “1984” — to confront the usual comic books that pass for newspapers these days. “Israelis innocent victims / Palestinians vicious terrorists”. “America reliable defender of freedom and democracy / Autocratic China looming as a threatening hulk”.

Bah humbug.

Even a 12-year-old should be insulted.

“There are none so imprisoned as the prisoners who actually think they still are free.”

I think I will increase my monthly donation to “Pearls and Irritations”.

It’s the only publication these days I can stomach to read from cover to cover.

The views expressed in this article may or may not reflect those of Pearls and Irritations.