By the time we reach the drum tower, the men underneath are on their second bull. They have slit its throat and are bleeding it from its carotid artery into the skin of its own neck, scooping out cup after cup of warm blood and throwing it into a basin with peppers and coriander. The bull’s feet are tied but still twitching spasmodically, a spray of warm shit spattered across the flagstones. Before long, the men with cleavers have set about the carcass, skinning it and hacking out gobbets of meat. Villagers are waiting nearby with carrier bags, ready to take home something to cook for tomorrow’s festival.

A cow is up next, tied to a pillar for safe-keeping. When her time comes, the men tie her feet to poles so she can’t struggle, and then smack her three times in the top of the head with the back of an axe. This is where we came in, as with the bull from before, her carotid artery is slit and the blood scooped out.

What everyone is really waiting for are the intestines. The Kam, for reasons known only to their selves, regard niubie, the half-digested grass of the cow’s last meal, to be a true delicacy, and they are soon fighting over it. The smell is appalling, but our fixer Pan doesn’t seem to mind, and has managed to grab a fistful of the stuff that will apparently be sufficient to feed seven tomorrow. Lucky us.

The director has unfortunately mixed up the words for intestine and pizzle, and consequently tells Pan’s shocked uncle that she would be interested in nibbling on a bull’s penis, “just for the experience.”

We drive down into Zhaoxing, the largest concentration of Kam people, and their de facto capital – a township that boasts five drum towers and three Wind and Rain bridges. The idea is for me to do a piece to camera about what a quiet sleepy place it is, but although the town is still mercifully traditional in appearance, it is packed with roaming Chinese gawping at everything, as well as a musical garbage truck that insists on barging back and forth along the main street.

Meanwhile, as I am attempting a piece to camera for the tenth time, an old lady half my height rushes up and starts plucking at the hairs on my arm, leading to piece that goes something like this:

“I’m in Zhaoxing, which has been the spiritual and cultural capital of the Kam people for centuries, but today it – OW! – what are you doing? You take as much hair as you like, love, I’ve got plenty. OW!”

She then wipes my body hair from her hands onto my shirt, and starts trying to fish in my pocket, while I go on. By this point, even the cameraman, who pretends that his digital camera is still running film stock and refuses to shoot anything that is not vital to the production, has turned his camera back on while I am molested by this ancient crone. The director claims that the encounter will never make it into the final series, but she said that last year, and ended up using a bunch of my outtakes in the trailer. Thanks to our height difference, it looks like I am being assaulted by an Ewok.

Jonathan Clements is the author of The Emperor’s Feast: A History of China in Twelve Meals. These events featured in Route Awakening S03E01 and E02.