We love Beijing. In our week here, we have had so many, and such varied, experiences it has made an unforgettable impression on us.

We are staying in the Qianmen quarter: a maze of old, twisting, vibrant alleys just south - yet so far removed - from the concrete pomp of Tian'anmen square. On our first night here we went to a renowned duck restaurant, the 'Lichun'. Buried deep in the 'hutongs', as these alleyways are known, the restaurant was a half-hour walk away. We walked straight down Dazhalan Lu, the oldest and busiest street of all, past calls - "Hello! Eat Here!" - from every appetite-inducing street cafe, all serving an array of glistening stir-fries, grilled meats, hotpots, steamed noodles and innumerable other delicacies. The smells were amazing, the freshness undoubtable: every seat was full, each table overloaded with food. We carried on past surreptitious DVD salesmen, fabric stores, endless - authentic - Northface jackets and tiny stores piled high with shoes. We stopped to look in the hundred-year-old pickle shop and went on past the plastic buckets full of 'thousand year' eggs.

Away from this street the bustle dwindled; a sleepy comfort slowly took its place. Along with the bustle went our orientation: we continued along ever smaller lanes as our spurious directions dictated until finally, inevitably, we were lost: standing on an obtuse street corner that seemed not to fit the rigid grid of our map.

A kind Chinese man - of whom there are many - with the deportment of a long-time civil servant took pity, "Lichun restaurant?" - clearly few visitors ventured this far for any other reason - "it's right behind you", he said in impeccable English, "just go round the corner and follow the [very big, obvious] sign". We did and saw the restaurant immediately, marked by the crowd of rickshaws outside. Inside was a charming, homely affair, giving the photos of ambassadors from every country imaginable the feeling of family portraits lining the walls.

The duck is roasted for a day, its head coyly wrapped under one wing, in the great wood-burning ovens by the door. This leaves the meat perfectly moist and tender, with sensationally crispy skin and without any of the greasiness that can sometimes corrupt this bird. Ours was carved before us in thin strips - none of that frantic shredding here - and presented with the full range of accompaniments: pancakes so translucent you could make out the pattern of the meat within, crisp slices of cucumber and spring onion and rich, syrup-like plum sauce. The perfect combination for us was a not-too-generous daub of plum sauce, a few slivers of spring onion, one sizeable slice of cucumber - any more dilutes the taste - and several thin slices of duck, rolled and folded like a miniature spring roll.

They went down quickly and easily: between us we had little problem finishing the whole duck, plus our 'appetiser' of pork fried in garlic and chilli. It is a testament to its quality that we finished so uncomfortably full and yet did not for a moment regret it: it was one of the greatest meals of my life.

No long walk is required, however, to find exceptional food. It is everywhere: breakfasts of vegetables wrapped in an omlette, wrapped in a pancake are available from stalls everywhere; the street cafes never cease to delight.

Beijing has much more to offer than simply food, tourist sites and buses to the awe-striking beauty of the great wall. For one thing, it has violin shops.

Georgia has been playing every night with a Brazilian jazz musician (singer, percussionist, guitarist with the charisma to suit) in a local bar. Jazz is increasingly popular in China and the opportunities for Western jazz musicians are manifold. Having decided to get a more comfortable chin rest, she took her violin down to a shop around the corner. This violin specialist is easy to identify by the violin student who practises on the busy road outside every day, under his ice-cream umbrella.

Georgia began to try out chin rests on different violins. Meanwhile, the owner was looking at her 'pub' violin - bought in a charity shop for £50, then renovated at the Bristol violin shop - in very good "sellable" condition, but lacking much tone.

There were some lovely violins there, mostly fake Strads with a much better quality of tone than Georgia's. She was particularly taken with one - with an unreachable price tag (£1000). Attempting to take advantage of the situation, she asked if there were any violins that he'd be wiling to swap for hers, thinking that there may be one of an equivalent value that sounded a bit better. We were amazed to find, via the Chinese Canadian who was kindly negotiating the deal, that he was more than happy to swap the lovely, rich toned, thousand pound violin for Georgia's plank of wood!

We thought that something had been lost in translation - surely there had been some mistake... We put the new violin in the case, closed the lid tentatively, waiting for some exclamation for the owner. None came. We thanked him - profusely - and left, still in shock that we'd done so well.

Last night was a change from the local bar - they were playing in one of the top jazz bars in Beijing, with an Afro-Cuban band. They impressed and are going back again tonight to guest with the house band - a four-piece jazz band. The options available to jazz musicians seem to be endless in Beijing, with every plush hotel and hundreds of bars advertising live music every night.

And so, as you can probably imagine, we are strongly considering staying in Beijing for a few more weeks, giving Georgia the chance to play with some of the excellent musicians around the capital and both of us the opportunity to really get to know this fantastic city better than a standard tour can provide. We will, of course, let you know how we get on. In the meantime, fingers crossed and watch this space!