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Sunday 2004-07-04 - Liuyian, China
Facilities on the train
It’s light, but we still have a way to go before we arrive at the station in Liuyian. Our night train today is again a little newer, and nicer, than the one before. And there’s one striking difference: in the bathrooms (two at one end of each carriage) there is a mysterious little net fixed to the wall, a little above the rail you can grasp so you can squat safely even if the train rounds a curve. On closer inspection, I see a little sticker next to the net explaining its purpose: it’s to park your mobile phone in while using the facilities. A nice illustration of how popular and wide-spread mobile telephony has become in China in only a few years’ time!
Sunday 2004-07-04 - Dunhuang, China
End of the known world
The section of this trip covering Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and Xinjiang in China was “the known world” for me: I’d traveled in all these countries before and visited most of the places we visited now (with the exception of Mary in Turkmenistan and Kuqa in Xinjiang). Not that that was a problem though: it was great to be back in Central Asia and it provided some ‘mental rest’ during a trip otherwise rich in new impressions.
Today I’m definitely in a new country: neither in Liuyian nor all along the road through the flat desert to Dunhuang is there a single word to read in the Arabic script of Uyghur as was the norm in Xinjiang where practically everything is bilingual. We’ve left the Turkic languages and peoples behind now: I’m in the ‘real’ China at last.
Looking out of the window of the bus that takes us from the station in Liuyian to Dunhuang, the landscape isn’t very interesting at first: just very flat and almost completely bare desert and a very straight road. After about an hour of this, we see a slight dip in the desert ahead of us and when we get close it suddenly gets a lot greener, obviously because the water table is closer to the surface. First, tamarisk appears, always a sign of the presence of a little water; later, we see irrigation channels and fields; even tree-lined roads. Checking my map: this must be the area of the Shule He (He means river, but I don’t know what Shule means). When we leave the oasis behind, the ground stays a little greener than before, until we reach the outskirts of Dunhuang and we see fields and trees again.
Dunhuang, my first contact with a real Chinese town, has a friendly provincial atmosphere, immediately apparent when arrive after the two-hour bus ride. This town (population: 100,000) at the edge of the feared Lop desert was originally at the extreme western border of the Chinese empire — its name means “Blazing Beacon” — and the Great Wall was extended to here.
Our hotel, Fei Tian, is unremarkable but we have a comfortable little room — and John’s Cafe is right next to the hotel’s forecourt, along the street.
Market instead of Internet
After lunch at John’s I asked one of the guys there for the Internet Service; they don’t have it here, he says (and neither does the hotel, as I already found out) but he gives me directions where I can find several Internet cafes; “slow”, he warns. Slow is no problem - I’m typing locally most of the time anyway. First I go to the hotel lobby where I sit down at a table and write a bit more; then, accompanied by Carla, who just wants to walk around Dunhuang, I follow the directions given.
At the first Internet cafe, soon found, I am studiously ignored completely, so I walk out again. Not much farther on is another place, like the first with a lot of work stations, but here they’re more friendly. The young man (who tells me it costs 2¥ (Yuan) per hour) shows me to a terminal and starts up Internet Explorer for me. That’s fine, but I need Notepad as well, I try to explain. He doesn’t understand what I mean, so I just sit down and poke around for a while; it’s hopeless — this is a completely customized shell under Windows 98 (I do find out that much) but all menus are non-standard, completely in Chinese, and in fact there are several virtual desktops, it seems. Notepad can’t be found; it’s probably never used — can one even type in Chinese in Notepad, I wonder? I have no idea. I don’t see Wordpad either; I’m forced to give up after a few minutes. I raise my hands in defeat. “No problem,” gestures the young man when we leave.
I give up the idea of updating the travel blog from Dunhuang, and decide to walk around town with Carla instead. In a nice pedestrian street with a lot of stalls with souvenirs we shop around a little, take a peek in yet another Internet cafe (I recognize the same customized shell, so I’m out again very quickly) and then find a nice vegetable market where we roam around a while, and I take some pictures.
Monday 2004-07-05 - Dunhuang, China
World Heritage site
Today we have just time for a visit to the Mogao Caves, an enormous complex of 735 Buddhist caves, 492 of them with sculptures and murals (the remainder were bare, on purpose, and were intended for prayer and meditation), located in the Sanwei mountain. It’s only half an hour’s ride from Dunhuang. Entrance is (at the moment) 100¥ (Yuan), plus another 20¥ per person for an English-speaking guide; the site is well worth it.
Our guide, a nice young lady with a cheerful straw hat against the sun and armed with a parasol, speaks English quite well, but with a very heavy accent that takes some getting used to. The whole complex, comprising one face of the mountain, she tells us, originally had murals all along the outside but only a few fragments of this remain: the rest is weathered away. Also many of the (man-made) caves originally consisted of an entrance portal, with a short corridor leading into the inner chamber housing an altar with sculptures of Buddha, disciples and other attendants. Most of these entrance portals, guarded by huge sculptures of armed figures, have disappeared through natural causes as well — the stone of this mountain is quite soft. But otherwise the caves — protected from the elements unlike the murals outside — are in remarkably pristine condition, probably the finest example of such caves in China, and named a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1987.
Construction of the caves began in 366 AD during the Qin dynasty and lasted some 100 years. One reason for their excellent preservation is that the region was taken by the Tibetans in 781 AD so it escaped the persecution of Buddhists in China in the 9th century; another reason is probably that the complex was never completely deserted so later archaeologist treasure hunters could not so easily ‘save’ what they found here.
The style of the sculptures and paintings, even the oldest ones, is remarkably refined. Clearly the best artists that could be found were working here. It’s also interesting to see how many paintings have Persian or Indian stylistic elements: with Dunhuang an important location on the Silk Road, artists must have exchanged their skills along the road or even traveled along with caravans to see art work elsewhere.
There are a few quite strikingly large Buddha sculptures. The largest one, at more than 30 m high is not in the original condition: the original clothing was later adapted into a intricately decorated “emperor’s mantle”. Another one is 26 m high and yet completely contained inside a cave; as with the other large figures, the body was first hewn out of the rock, then covered with clothes made from straw-reinforced clay and painted. This one is in original condition. Most remarkable is that the head, itself 9 m high, is very large in proportion to the body: it’s actually designed so that when the sculpture is seen from below the head actually appears to be in the right proportion - a very early example of perspective correction!
Lost, found, and lost again
In the 19th century the Magao caves near Dunhuang were apparently ‘rediscovered’ by a priest called Wang Luan Yu who set himself up as their custodian. In one of the caves (now ‘nr. 17’) he discovered a secret chamber, the entrance covered with plaster and murals, and hidden by sand blown in by sand storm. Inside the chamber he found a huge library of historical, literary and religious texts as well as many paintings that had been hidden in the secret chamber to protect them.
When British archaeologist Sir Marc Aurel Stein heard of this on his 1907 expedition he came here to investigate — and ended up buying over 5000 scrolls and paintings for just 130 pounds. When the French sinologist Paul Pelliot came to the site just one year later, he found a treasure of texts and paintings so large, he didn’t even realize any had been taken.
Most of the contents of the original library is now in the hands of Western museums, much to the chagrin of the Chinese; among them (part of Stein’s load) is the Diamond Sutra, still on display on the British Museum, which counts as the oldest printed document in the world; it’s dated 868 AD. On the site there is now a small museum, recounting how this library was hidden and lost, found again and then lost again. Some scrolls are exhibited here, as well as some quite beautiful paintings but alas most of them are reproductions of originals now in museums in Paris and London.
Monday 2004-07-05 - Jiayuguan, China
Catching the train
When we get back to the hotel in Dunhuang a little before noon, there’s just time to check out, put our luggage into the bus, and have a somewhat hasty lunch at John’s Cafe. By 13:00 we’re on the road again, with a very tight schedule: it’s a long way to Jiayuguan, estimated at 5.5 hours, but we must be there before seven to pick up our train tickets.
It’s not a pleasant trip but there’s no way around it: we make only two short stops at gas stations to use the facilities — and a two-minute stop every hour to rotate places in the bus (so we all get our share of being shaken apart on the bumpy road) — otherwise we just move on, and have to. At first we progress fast enough and the driver is able to keep a steady speed of 86 km/hr (according to my GPS) but later there are a lot of road works and our speed goes down a lot. There’s also a lot of grit on the newly-covered stretches, and we see many heaps of glass along the road: broken windshields… It’s a worrying sight, but luckily we have no mishaps: we have no time for that! The atmosphere in the bus is unmistakable: everyone is tense and no doubt some of us think back to the flat tire we had near Kuqa.
All goes well though, and a little before seven we arrive in Jiayuguan where — after no more than a glimpse of the famous Jiayuguan Pass, the largest and most intact entrance of the Great wall — we stop at the bus station. Huh? Our driver goes with our travel companion to pick up the train tickets which turn out to be waiting in a tiny restaurant near the bus station. Then on we go to the train station at the edge of town. We have just 6 minutes to board the train which leaves at exactly 20:38. Lights out at 22:30: now we can relax again.
Tuesday 2004-07-06 - Lanzhou, China
“Handle be on worth”
At 7:00 we arrive at the station in Lanzhou, on the banks of the Huang He (Yellow River), where we need to change trains. Not immediately though: our next train leaves only at midday so there is time to go to the hotel across the station square: we can park our luggage there and those who want it can have breakfast (I pass and sit and write my diary instead).
In the hotel lobby, next to our pile of luggage, is a desk with a little sign sitting on it; some Chinese characters (which I can’t reproduce) and English words: “Handle be on worth”. Yes, I swear that’s what it said — I’m not making this up — although when we get down from the restaurant after breakfast there is mysteriously a new sign on the desk saying “Assist. Manager” (not that any manager or even assistant is in sight). Sometimes “Chinese English” can provide a surprising insight in how different both languages are, showing how the Chinese language associates and arranges concepts in a way very different from European languages to convey meaning. But possibly as a result, occasionally the Chinese-to-English translation process derails completely, leaving a meaningless arrangement of words. I’m sure the Chinese on the sign was actually meaningful, but I sure can’t parse the “English” phrase…
After breakfast, I go for a little walk around Lanzhou with Carla who actually has a little map even though our itinerary didn’t indicate we’d stop here; alas, it turns out to be not very accurate: the department store we wanted to have a look at seems to have never existed. With my still-painful foot, the Huang He is out of reach, so we stay a bit closer to the station. Still, it’s fun and I take my first pictures of a big Chinese city (including some on the market, of course): Lanzhou has a population of nearly 2 million. We also have a chat with a couple of local young men and discover they speak with a very different accent here than in Dunhuang: they have a sort of twang, not clearly pronouncing the ‘n’ at the end of a word, for instance.
Tuesday 2004-07-06 - Xi’an, China
A variety of fields
We’re on the train again, continuing after our short break in Lanzhou. Looking out of the windows, the landscape resembles the “Chinese scroll” watercolor landscapes we’ve all seen: green and lush, with rivers flowing in the valleys. Gentle mountains at first, almost completely covered with terraces with fields (no rice though), and more fields in the river valleys. The desert is truly far behind us now.
Gradually, the landscape changes, the mountains becoming steeper and stonier, no longer allowing agriculture, but with a velvety cover of shrubs and small trees; in the valley we see the muddy-yellow water of the Wei He, a tributary of the Yellow River (Huang He), sometimes crossing it but mostly following the course of the river, occasionally taking a shortcut through a tunnel.
Farther on, the valley widens, the railway hugging the mountains on one side, the mountains on the other side far away. The valley is obviously very fertile, completely covered with fields with a great variety of crops grown — but some fields are different. Whereas the Kirghiz locate their cemeteries preferably in a beautiful spot far from the villages, the Chinese here do it differently: this valley is dotted with small cemeteries, at most the size of a field, most a lot smaller. And they’re right in-between the fields with grain, onions, and cabbages: although not inside or close to the villages, the dead are close to the living here, and rest in beautiful spots.
About an hour from Xi’an the scenery gets very urban very quickly; we make a stop in Xianyang, before arrival in metropolis Xi’an at 20:40. We have a very nice hotel here, Jie Fang, right across from the station: we can simply walk there.
Wednesday 2004-07-07 - Xi’an, China
Relaxed metropole
After our long train ride of yesterday, Carla and I make a late start today with a nice plate of noodles for breakfast at the little restaurant around the corner from the Jie Fang hotel. Then we set out to walk to the center of the old city of Xi’an. For a city of millions (6.62 is what I found), the atmosphere here is surprisingly relaxed, reminding me somewhat of Damascus, our first city on this nine-week trip. Traffic is lively, with a wide variety of public transportation ranging from buses (quite a lot) to little red motorized open carts for two to four passengers, a bit like bike taxis except they’re motorized. But no one actually seems to be in a hurry; people don’t walk fast either, the right strategy in this climate since it’s quite hot here. We haven’t walked 100 meters yet and I like Xi’an already.
Although people do look at us strangers, they don’t stare, obviously used to foreign visitors. Still only a few people approach us to speak English to us; very few actually know enough English for a chat, it seems.
When we arrive at the Bell Tower, marking the very center of the old city, we find it’s in scaffolding and closed for restauration. As an alternative we make a short visit to the huge modern department store at the corner of the square: a nice contrast between ancient and modern China. It’s easy to spend half a day or more here, but we have other plans.
After a short rest with some fruit juice in a sort of food court in the basement we leave super-modern China behind for a while and walk on to the Drum Tower. No scaffolding here but although supposedly the tower is in use again, we see no activity. The tower is also a gate building, marking the entrance to the old muslim quarter of Xi’an.
Along the main street, especially near the Drum Tower, there are many souvenir shops and tourist restaurants but when after a while we turn left into a smaller street, in search of the Great Mosque, this abruptly changes: We’re in a normal street in an old town now, a street where people live and work and have businesses catering to locals rather than tourists. This feels like the ‘real’ old Xi’an. I’d like to roam around more here, but my painful foot doesn’t agree.
Relaxing in the mosque… again
Now that we’ve arrived in the ‘real’ old town of Xi’an, we don’t actually see many signs that this is a Muslim quarter: only a few of the men and women we see actually wear their traditional Muslim headdres, but most don’t (even though most people here may actually be Muslim). Chinese Muslims, although ethnically mostly Han Chinese, are called Hui and are recognized as a separate ‘nationality’ in China.
In Kashgar the Hui go to the Id Kah mosque together with the Uyghurs; this mosque, with all its poplars in the large courtyard, is very Uyghur in style and atmosphere. Here, in Xi’an, there are no Uyghurs (although we occasionally see people from other minorities in the streets). So now, after all the mosques we visited on our long trip, through predominanty Muslim countries, we’re curious what a Chinese mosque will be like. Maybe we shouldn’t have been surprised, but when we finally arrive after a somewhat roundabout route avoiding most of the tourist shops, the surprise is how ‘Chinese’ it looks. It’s actually more like a Buddhist temple than a mosque: we miss the architectural pattern we’ve become used to, with a large central courtyard and a central fountain or pond for ritual washing.
According to historical records carved in stone tablets presrved here, the mosque was set up in 742 AD during the Tang dynasty, and restored and further expanded during the Song, Yuan, Ming and Qing dynasties. Not surpisingly, the complex boasts a rich variety of architectural styles in the many buldings, platforms, pavillions and prayer halls arranged along five consecutive courtyards. In the fourth courtyard is a kind of pagoda with an octagonal roof serving as a minaret (unlike any we’ve seen before); instead of a central fountain or pond for the ritual washing there is a separate building dedicated to this purpose to the side of this courtyard. The large prayer hall, not accessible to non-muslims, is at the end of the fifth courtyard. Instead of wide open places, the four first courtyards are actually lush gardens; between the old trees and lots of flowers and shrubs there are many places to sit and rest, and enjoy the quiet: here, shielded from the bustle of metropolis all around it, one hears no traffic — only the chirping and birdsong of the many birds living here. In fact, sitting in the shade in this nice peaceful atmosphere, we find it actually hard not to doze off.
We hang around for quite a while, before braving the tourist shops to shop for some presents to take home.
Handicapped in China
There’s no way I’m going to walk back all the way with my by now tired and painful foot. A taxi would be nice — one of those little open red carts we’ve seen even nicer. But apart from ordinary taxis there’s nothing near the Drum Tower. I decide I can still make it to the Bell Tower; but there’s nothing there either, nor along the main street where we see only buses. Finally, we turn right and at the next corner we find a (very) little red cart.
The driver turns out to be handicapped, with two crutches propped up beside him in what is essentially little more than a motorized wheelchair with a backseat that will hold two passengers (just). I show him the hotel card: yes, he can take us there for 10 Yuan, he says. That’s probably too much, but I agree without bargaining: let him have a good day — I’m certainly not going walk much further. So we squeeze ourselves into the little seat and off he goes. We have to hold on to our hats, but it’s fun! He’s fast and very agile in the busy Xi’an traffic, narrowly but surely avoiding taxis and bikes; when the light changes at one crossing even zooming diagonally across to the parallel road on the left. At the same time he takes care to avoid potholes and bumps in the road, giving us a smooth but nonetheless exciting ride back to the hotel — and a very different view of Xi’an.
Our fun drive in the back of a motorized wheelchair makes me think about the position of people with a handicap in China. We’ve seen other carts like this one (most a little larger) serving as taxis, some with a sticker on it with the international “wheelchair” symbol on it; but not all of them carry this symbol — maybe not all of these taxi drivers are handicapped but some clearly are: it looks as though they can get a special license to operate a taxi like this and thus obtain an income.
I don’t have any more hard facts but did make some more observations which suggest that in China handicapped people aren’t totally left to their own devices (as is the case in many other countries I’ve visited). Whether they have (or can have) some sort of social security isn’t clear to me though. I’ve seen people begging, too, although this is officially forbidden. On the other hand, on the corner near the hotel last night was a street musician: a Chinese albino, obviously blind as a result of his condition, drawing quite an audience with his music. Again, at least that’s a way to obtain an income — but could he live on it? One more observation: the sidewalks along (at least) the main streets in every Chinese town and city we’ve been in now are not only paved nicely with tiles, but also have ridged tiles to guide the blind, as well as curb cuts in the sometimes very high curbs: something that wasn’t the case yet in for instance Kashgar two years ago. So maybe things aren’t yet as good as they might be but there’s definite and visible progress. Still, by the time we’re back in the hotel I’m left with more questions than answers about what it’s like to be handicapped in China.
Thursday 2004-07-08 - Xi’an, China
To the army
In 1974 some farmers in the village Xiang, near Xi’an, while digging a well for their village, suddenly encountered an obstruction: a layer of very hard baked clay. When they finally broke through, they found fragments of more baked clay and bronze arrowheads lying on a floor of blue bricks.
When archeaologists started an excavation that same summer, the importance of the find soon became clear: this was a huge burial vault for the terra-cotta warriors and horses that were buried together with the first emperor of the Qin dynasty — the first emperor to unify several Chinese nationalities in a large feudal state, with excellent organization. It was also this emperor who started building the Great Wall — and this dynasty that gave its name to the present-day country (‘Qin’ is pronounced “chin”).
The site which now comprises three burial vaults with in total some 8000 terra-cotta warriors and horses, as well as more than 100 wooden chariots, is of world-wide importance. It’s been open to the public since 1979 while excavations and restoration of the finds are still going on today.
Carla and I are really looking forward to seeing all this when we get on the #306 bus at exactly 8:00 in the morning. It’s quite easy to get to the site: just take this bus (right in front of the Jie Fang hotel across from the station) and get out at the last stop half an hour later. A lot of merchants are peddling their wares here (rather aggressively) but we’re grateful they’re allowed only outside the gates of the newly landscaped grounds around the buildings that house the movie theatre, the three pits and the museum. We go to the theatre first to see an impressive 360° movie depicting the discovery of the site and its history: at times it’s really as if you’re right in the middle of the battle field, flags waving in your face, clattering arms, chariots racing by.
The museum is next on our program, to get some more background before going to the actual excavations. Here, we find not only a wealth of metal objects found in the pits such as parts of armory, bronze weapons and horses’ gear; there are also the two completely restored bronze chariots that were found in pit 3, each with four horses and driver: every detail — including all mechanics — was carefully reproduced at half life size, each chariot consisting of more than 3000 parts with over 1000 of them made of gold and silver. The museum also gives a lot of background information about the state of technology here during the 3rd century BC, with many intricate fastenings, hinges, crossbows, and even chrome-plated bronze used for weapons: a technology that was discovered in the West only some 2000 years later.
Each of the three pits (named 1, 2 and 3 after the order in which they were discovered) is housed in its own building, simultaneously protecting the uncovered and restored terra-cotta figures and the on-going excavations and allowing the public a view from balconies around and above the excavation areas. Here, too, are excellent displays giving background information and explaining how the process of excavation and restoration works. With the exception of one small area in the museum, all explanatory texts are in Chinese and English. In the building of pit 2 there are also a few glass cabinets housing terra-cotta figures so you can actually see them face-to-face and walk around them. Not only is the amount of detail quite amazing, but literally every figure of this 8000-strong army is an individual. You see young and innocent as well as experienced and battle-hardened faces; clean-shaven, with moustaches or beards, hair done in different styles: all life-size at between 1.8 and 2 m tall. There are generals, officers and warriors, varying in clothing and posture according to their roles. It’s all incredibly impressive, both artistically and technologically.
Last train ride
By 14:00 we’re back in Xi’an, in time for a late lunch of sweet and sour pork with a very good draught beer. Then we go to the supermarket to get some snacks for on the train, and go and pick up our luggage from the hotel storage room and repack a little.
A little before five we walk to the station where we’re allowed into the soft-sleeper lounge again, and can go onto the platform before the masses — thankfully because it’s very crowded here. We find the train for Beijing already waiting; it leaves at exactly 18:00 but by then I find my luck has run out: I have the middle bed on the right — and just don’t manage to climb into it with my still painful right foot which I just don’t dare set on the narrow steps of the ladder (not without my sturdy walking shoes on, anyway). Someone has a brainwave: we swap beds and now I have the middle bed on the left which I can climb into because I can set my right foot on the lower bed, and my left one on the ladder.
Friday 2004-07-09 - Beijing, China
Broke in Beijing
I wake up before five; I slept well but not long enough. An hour later the train attendant comes by to wake us up (if necessary) and swap our little cards for our train tickets. We arrive in Beijing at 6:40.
I’m so tired after my too-short night, the first thing I do when we get our room in the Dong Fang hotel is go to bed for a nap — while Carla goes out with Thom to the Forbidden City. We were told that to view the Forbidden City you’d need to walk around some four or five hours, something I’m sure I can’t manage anyway with my still-hurting foot. When I wake up again it’s 12:30. I’d like to go out for a short walk, but first I’ll need some cash: I’m nearly broke. But before that — and before I can go out at all — I’ll need to have my passport (left at the check-in desk for registration), and I can’t get cash without a passport either.
When I arrive in the lobby and ask for my passport, explaining why I need it, a small opera results: our passports are locked away, it seems, and the lady who has the only key (really?) has gone to the bank to get cash, I’m told; she’ll be back in an hour. I insist they just cannot ‘lock up’ their guests by holding on to their passports: the lady with the key should have left that key behind so guests can have access to their passports. Obviously, things don’t quite work like they try to make me believe: apparently no one present has sufficient authority to open the (locked?) drawer with the passports. When I propose the assistant manager (“#0059” says his name tag, he doesn’t seem to have a name) call the lady with the key that seems to give him an opening; he suggests I sit at the lounge bar to wait … and less than 10 minutes later a bell boy appears to tell me my passport is here. Of course the lady with the key (does she even exist?) is nowhere in sight; I suspect they just decided to open the drawer, maybe without proper authorization.
Anyway, that’s really just the short version of what happened; then actually getting cash involves one non-functional ATM (in the hotel), one broken ATM (at a bank) and a bank teller at yet another bank. But I have my passport, and cash, and now I’m ready to explore Beijing a little — at my snail’s pace.
Not the temple I was looking for…
The little map on the back of my hotel business card indicates the location of the Tian Tan temple, which seems to be one of the must-see places in Beijing. It seems close enough for me to manage, so I set out in that direction. The little map is a bit sketchy though, and certainly not to scale; after passing the Friendship Hospital and turning to the right I do end up at a temple but a very different one — quite a find: my travel guide doesn’t even mention it.
I’m finding myself at the Xiannong temple complex, originally from the Ming dynasty period (started in 1420) and used by both Ming and Qing emperors. Offers to the god Xiannong were made here, and they celebrated the ‘ceremony of the planting’ to ensure a good harvest. The whole complex consists of several beautifully-restored buildings, observation platforms and shrines. It now houses the Beijing Museum of Ancient Architectures. I roam and sit around for quite a while (never going inside any of the buildings) before turning back to the hotel.
“Beautify the environment, Welcome the Olympic Games”
On the way back to the hotel I’m reminded how fast China is changing. Possibly stimulated by the upcoming Olympic games in 2008, China is becoming quite environmentally conscious. Recycling is stimulated: along the streets, the waste bins have separate compartments for different kinds of waste; spitting in public places is discouraged and frowned upon now; public toilets are much cleaner than they used to be. We’ve seen solar-powered hot water installations. In the desert we saw huge wind parks (one still under construction), as well as cell phone antennas powered by solar cells.
What reminded me of all this was the blue Beijing street sweeper’s cart I saw parked along a street near the hotel; on the sides (Chinese on one, English on the other) it bore the slogan “Beautify the environment, Welcome the Olympic Games”.
The opera
This evening we go out with a small group to enjoy a bit of Chinese opera; it’s quite nearby at the Liyuang Theatre, performed by members of the Beijing Opera. Tickets were arranged beforehand and were just 60¥.
Remarkably it’s not just permitted to eat and drink in the performance hall: near the front are seats at tables where snacks are being served, and there are drinks, even draft beer — expensive at 25¥, but most of us take one anyway as an essential ingredient of the experience.
After some introductory music there appears a speaker who (in English) gives a short explanation of how the Chinese opera ‘works’: There is never a set, everything needs to be imagined. Much is symbolic: two horse-less riders on stage may actually depict two armies clashing. Everything contributes to tell the story: music, song, dance, acrobatics and juggling — and of course the costumes and make up of the actors. The 1.5-hour show that follows is exciting and delightful; there’s never a dull moment and no need to understand Chinese to follow the story line. Since photography is allowed, I try to take some pictures, but my film isn’t very fast so I’m not very hopeful.
To round off the evening we dine together at a small neighborhood restaurant, where I have delicious pork in garlic sauce.
Saturday 2004-07-10 - Beijing, China
Delicious bread and a knife
Carla and I make a slow start this morning and leave our Beijing hotel without breakfast; we’ll buy something on the way to the Tien’anmen Square, our goal for today.
It’s a pleasant walk, first across the big road over a pedestrian bridge and then through the lively hutongs of the old center in the direction of Qianmen Dajie (Tianmen Avenue), the wide and fashionable shopping street that leads straight to the square and the Forbidden City beyond that. In the hutongs I note — as I did on my solitary walk to the Xiannong temple complex yesterday — that many of the houses have little low buildings tacked onto them, sticking out into the street. It reminds me a bit of what is called a “pothuis” in Amsterdam, where such buildings are built onto a half-subterranean kitchens and used to store the pots and pans. Except there are no subterranean kitchens here, and they all have a low (padlocked) door set into them on the street side. I make a wild guess: imagine an old town without plumbing — perhaps they attach to a bathroom (instead of a kitchen) and house a barrel for human sewage, to be picked up and exchanged for an empty one using those little doors. I remember this was still the practice in some old towns in the Netherlands during the 1950s where there was no mains water. I never find out whether my guess is right, or they are something else entirely.
Soon we turn right in the direction of Qianmen Dajie we find a place where they sell the type of deep-fried round bread with spring onions or other spices that I’m so fond of. We each get one for just 5 ¥ - in a little plastic carrier bag: they’re piping hot, too hot to eat immediately. As we walk on, the old hutong shopping street metamorphoses into a modern shopping street, where we go shopping, bread bags in hand. Here we come across a shop specializing in kitchen knives (nothing but kitchen knives!) and I can’t resist: I’ve long been looking for one of those large Asian kitchen knives to chop vegetables with and they have dozens of models and sizes here. The lady who helps us (Carla buys two as presents to bring home) does not speak a word of English, but firmly and expertly explains to us with some gestures and mime what the different knives are for (I don’t want a meat chopper!) and what is good quality and why: she clearly wants us to leave the store with a purchase we’ll be happy with for many years. The knife I get is heavy (but not too heavy for my small hands) and at 146 ¥ costs a fraction of what a knife of similar quality would cost in the Netherlands. Happy with our purchases, we sit on a stoop in front of an empty shop across the street to eat our bread: still hot but by now at an edible temperature and quite delicious.
Day off
Once in Qianmen Dajie (Tianmen Avenue) I’m disappointed that what on the map looks like a straight line all the way up to the Forbidden City (this part of Beijing clearly was designed that way, with a long, clear line of sight) is not actually navigable in a straight line now. But after some detours and underpasses we finally arrive on Tien’anmen Square. It’s quite large and impressiive, and busy with lots of predominanty Chinese tourists, despite the dark, hazy weather today. We walk all around, feeling the space and watching the monumental buildings around it — but also the tourists, ranging from lines of children clothed in modern ‘red brigade’ T-shirts to gaping visitors from the provinces; watching the peddlers selling trinkets and kites (flying some to attract attention), and the little girl running and delighting in her graciously flying string of kites; having our pictures taken for a change and taking a picture of the girl and her mother in return; watching the Chinese snapping away with their cameras (no camera? you can buy them right here, and many do so).
On the way back a girl starts chatting to us (she’s not the first): a lot of students are approaching tourists trying to persuade them to go to their art exhibition. When she gathers we’re travelling with a group (but with no group or tour leader in sight) she asks: “Is this your day off?” It takes a few seconds before it registers what that implies; it’s a nice illustration of the Chinese way of tourism. Our explanation that every day is a “day off” because we’re always free to wander around whenever we stay somewhere meets with a blank stare…
On the corner of Qianmen Dajie we share one (large) portion of duck and one (large) beer: a delicious lunch in front of a window watching the crowd go by. Further on in the street we find a bookstore that has maps. I love maps and can’t resist a (bilingual) map of Beijing and a (Chinese) map of the world. Then we go to our hotel to drop our purchases and give my still-hurting foot a rest.
No. 107 isn’t leak-proof
I read somewhere that Beijing’s air is so heavily polluted that one rarely sees a blue sky and Beijing’s children have never seen a starry night. It’s believable: all morning it’s been dark and hazy (although it was much better yesterday — and I now regret not taking a picture of the view from our hotel window then). But when we venture out again after dropping off the morning’s purchases, the sky has become even darker. Our plan is to visit Tiantan: the Temple of Heaven, which I didn’t find yesterday. Just before where we think we should turn right, the sky gets inky; moments later very large drops of rain start to fall.
Together with others we flee to shelter under the overhanging roof of a small restaurant on the corner: No. 107 (I’m not sure whether it has a name or whether that is the name). But the stoop is narrow and the roof doesn’t give much protection: we’re getting wet so we flee inside. The woman who runs the restaurant is calm (as if she’s seen this many times before) and tolerant: she doesn’t come bothering anyone if they want to sit down or eat or drink anything. Carla and I sit down at a table, order a beer, and prepare to watch the fun from our safe vantage point at the window… We soon are reminded of the downpour in Antakya: the road turns into a river, almost knee-deep in places; cyclists suddenly are all wearing rain ponchos (are they always so prepared?), some wading through the water next to their bikes, others managing to cycle through the stream.
Crack! That was a direct hit of lightning nearby — the Friendship Hospital a bit back down the road still has power, but all around it’s suddenly very dark. The wind now becomes stormy, and across the street captures a huge parasol with a heavy foot and drops it in the middle of the street.
Splat! The roof of No. 107 starts to leak — just over our table. We move over to the next one with our beer. Puddles start to form on the floor. Splat! It’s not just water coming down any more: wet plaster is coming with it, leaving white marks all over the tables and chairs near the window. We have to give up our view and move again. At a large table next to us a family is eating together, enjoying themselves and seemingly oblivious to the weather. After half an hour it lightens up a bit and the water level is down, we can see the side walk again: it looks like we might be able to reach the hotel without getting wet feet. For the beer, we only pay 2 ¥ — not sure whether it’s normally that cheap or whether we got a discount for the wet-plaster rain.
Tomorrow we fly back. The Tiantan will be waiting for us to return to Beijing some time…
Sunday 2004-07-11 - Beijing, China
Packing
After a goodbye dinner last night at a Beijing ‘hotpot’ restaurant (our tour companion is staying behind to accompany another group) I started preparing to pack for the flight back. The nice but heavy knife I bought yesterday got me worried: I was sure my luggage is seriously overweight by now so I tried to do some triage: what to take, what to leave. But I can’t leave any of the heavy stuff, really: all books and papers, all my rolls of film in the lead-lined bags, my Chinese kitchen knife… It’s not easy.
So after some sorting I didn’t sleep too well, tossing and turning, waking up repeatedly, mentally unpacking, repacking, sorting, keeping, rejecting. I make a few decisions but I stay worried. When I get up I’m not rested — and nervous. When I actually start packing I manage to save a Kg or maybe two (some clothes, toiletries, flipflops); not enough.
A costly flight back
A bus will take us to Beijing airport; before we leave we engage the bus driver to take a group picture of us at the hotel entrance — with several cameras — and I’m sure he does this more often. At the check-in desk at the airport my worst fears come true: not only is there a weight limit on checked luggage, there’s one for cabin luggage as well: my little backpack with all my rolls of films is twice as heavy as allowed and my bag is (as expected) overweight as well. I have to take out what I really want to take as hand luggage (luckily I have a small bag handy for that) and manage to carry my film rolls — they always go in my hand luggage — and some other essentials; then I convince the clerk she’s already quoted me an overweight on my bag, and shouldn’t suddenly re-weigh and add my now half-empty backpack as well. Still, I have to pay a hefty fee, which surprisingly I can pay with my credit card (they must be dealing with cash-less passengers more often). I shrug it off: compared to the total cost of our trip it’s still peanuts, and I accept it as a necessary cost of my gotten-out-of-hand photography hobby (and those 100 rolls of film in lead-lined bags): others buy more souvenirs, I pay for the films.
The flight back is uneventful; we’re changing planes in Vienna again, this time without being held up. Amsterdam feels strange after 65 days travelling across Asia. Tomorrow I’ll bring my films to the lab.
Sunday 2005-09-18 - Beijing, China
Preparing for the Olympics
In spite of the two-hour delay leaving Frankfurt the plane arrives only 15 minutes late in Beijing where Marie Josee, our travel companion, is waiting for us. Great to see her again — I give her a big hug. We’re at the hotel at noon, in a familiar neighborhood: our Rainbow hotel is only one block south of the Dong Fang hotel where we stayed last year (it’s being renovated now). Both hotels are in an area with relatively untouched hutongs: the old neighborhoods of Beijing — once all of Beijing was like this. To us it has a “fifties” atmosphere.
After getting Yuans and a delicious lunch with Carla and Gwendoline at a familiar neighborhood restaurant, The Tian’anmen square is next on our program for the day. We walk there through the hutongs and the modern shopping street Qianmen Dajie. It’s fun because today is a holiday, and nearly everyone has the day off: lots of people walking around, shopping, and just enjoying themselves on the Moon festival.
When we arrive at the square, there’s a difference, however: Next to the square, on the facade of the museum, there’s a huge display counting down to the 2008 Olympics and on the square itself lots of people are at work building enormous displays with sports themes decorated with lots of potted flowers: no day off for these people. China is preparing for the Olympics at a furious pace. The Olympic village is already built and ready — in fact it’s been standing empty for so long already it’s beginning to look dilapidated and will need some sprucing up before the games begin. The Beijing skyline is a wood of building cranes. In lots of other cities renovation (read: destruction of old buildings to be replaced by new ones) is going on at breakneck speed. Hopefully some of the hutongs in Beijing will be spared.
In the evening we go with the whole group to a hutong restaurant (a loose collection of tables and stools out on the street, and different vendors selling different dishes); we have Muslim mutton kebabs (hot!) and garlic kebabs, and a variety of vegetables, accompanied with a nice beer. A delicious meal for next to nothing.
Monday 2005-09-19 - Bejing, China
Imperial Palace
I wake up with a fever: my cold is getting a hold. I still want to go out though: I’m not feeling that bad. Together with Carla and Gwendoline I go to the Imperial palace today (also known as “The Forbidden City”; officially it’s the Palace Museum), right in the center of Beijing. Once we step outside, we find it’s chilly, quite a change from yesterday: we go back to our rooms to fetch a jacket and note most Beijing citizens are wearing long sleeves today as well. The atmosphere in the streets today is clearly different from yesterday when it was a holiday: now we see people going about their business instead of whole families strolling about lazily.
To my surprise we don’t have to pay right at the first gate (the one with the big portrait of chairman Mao above it) but walk right through onto an enormous courtyard, then on through another gate onto another courtyard. Only there we have to pay (60ұ) to go on into the complex.
What follows is quite impressive: one courtyard after another, all large or very large, with marble bridges over a little river and beautifully carved marble stairways; the buildings surrounding the courtyards all have brick-red painted walls and elegant roofs of yellow-glazed rounded tiles, topped by beautiful animals on all corners; the woodwork (especially below the roofs) is beautifully decorated with multi-colored paintings. The effect is quite pleasing, in spite of the enormous size of it all. Lots of potted plants stand around, there’s a pond full of lotus plants, here and there big bronze and marble sculptures of mythical beasts, and big bronze vats (purpose unknown). A few halls have impressive thrones but unfortunately you can’t go near, only peer at them from the entrance of the halls, and it’s rather dark inside.
It’s rightfully called the forbidden city: not only were ordinary Chinese citizens not allowed inside the walls of the palace grounds, but the whole complex — itself just a small part of metropolis Beijing — is indeed big as a city: I reckon he whole inner city of Groningen would easily fit in this area.
It’s a pity the restoration of the complex is still going on: many buildings are still in scaffolding and whole areas of the complex closed to the public. It will surely all be ready before the 2008 Olympics: maybe we should come back in the spring of 2009 to see it in its full glory.
Mask
On the way back from the Imperial Palace we decide to have lunch near Qianmen (south of Tian’anmen square), where Carla and I had lunch last year. I’m not hungry since I already had a bowl of noodles at the Forbidden City so I only have a beer while Carla and Gwendoline share a dish of sliced duck with onions (a kind of long, thin leek, actually).
From our table at the window we watch Beijing coming by.
I note a man coming from the underpass wearing a green surgical mask: not such a bad idea in Beijing with its polluted air, where the sky is rarely blue because of the smog. The sight of the mask reminds me of a comment from a Chinese I noted on an online forum that the TV news coverage of the SARS epidemic was rather biased: we were shown images of people walking around in masks, as if that was all because of the epidemic, while in reality it was already quite common. That brings to mind how the Chinese have had several campaigns to promote hygiene, for instance to discourage spitting in public: it used to be quite common just a few years ago but it’s rare now; no doubt the SARS epidemic helped bring that message home.
Having just arrived at this point in my musings about Chinese hygiene, I see the man unhooking the mask from his right ear, holding it aside, spitting a thick wad onto the pavement, and smoothly putting the mask back into place. It’s an exception. Really.
Sweeping a waterfall
A while later I note two young men standing outside, laughing, looking up: a waterfall is coming down right in front of the restaurant entrance but we can’t see what’s causing it. A girl from the restaurant goes outside with a mop and starts sweeping the water off the steps — rather futile since the water keeps coming down. Soon she’s joined by a colleague with a broom. Gradually the flood eases a bit and together they manage to sweep away most of the water from the entrance steps — only to have the waterfall start all over again. By the time we leave it’s almost stopped, but the steps are still slippery wet.
To the Opera
In the evening we go with most of the group to the Beijing Opera. Unlike last year, we go to the actual Beijing Opera house: a small building that’s over 400 years old, with quite beautifully decorated woodwork inside. A pity we have places on the balcony, on the side: we don’t have a very good view of the stage; also the explanation of the performance is not as good as we had last year. The performance itself is sublime though and the piece after the intermission is especially interesting for us: the star is the Monkey King — after whom our travel organization (Koning Aap) is called.
I know the film in my camera is not fast enough to be able to take pictures in the theater so I didn’t bring it. But a digital camera usually has a much wider range, so I try to do something with my brand-new camera phone. It’s just an experiment, but you never know: just one good picture would be nice to have.
Afterwards we all go and have a beer together in the hutongs before returning to the hotel. All in all a nice and interesting evening out.
Tuesday 2005-09-20 - Beijing, China
Morning Activities
Many Chinese get up early in the morning and go outside for some gentle exercise. One favorite place in Beijing is the Tiantan Park with the Temple of Heaven, a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1998. Although the main temple is closed at the moment and in scaffolding for restoration, we get up early to go to the park for some people-watching. It proves to be quite an experience, well worth getting up early for.
The huge park itself is an oasis in the big city, with many trees and a chorus of chirping cicadas almost masking the music of the singing birds. Although the park itself, laid out in a formal geometrical style, and the buildings within it are quite interesting, it’s the people that really take our interest. People do all kinds of exercises such as Tai Chi (often with a teacher) but also other types of exercise, all gentle, such as a kind of dance with fans, or marching in figures with pompoms and fans as if it’ a band of cheerleaders — except most in the group are actually middle aged… We also see a group being taught western style dancing. Most of these activities are accompanied by music coming from loudspeakers placed at regular intervals but some (such as the cheerleader group) have live music.
Then there are all kinds of ball games, like badminton, or kicking around a kind of feather ball (people kick it at each other and it should stay in the air as long as possible, apparently). There’s also a ball game with a soft ball ans a round racket with which the ball is caught and thrown back (not hit) all in one fluid movement. Other people do stretching exercises, or walk backwards a long way, using a marble strip in the pavement as a guide.
Harmony is important for the Chinese, and one way or another all this is about harmony; exercise can become a kind of meditation, but we see other forms as well: some people are practicing calligraphy writing with big brushes and water on the pavement; I also note a man flying a kite, accompanied by soft music. His mind is clearly far away, too, and he doesn’t notice us watching. Even a choir is using the park for their practice sessions, accompanied by an accordionist.
Pleasure boat
Our bus picks us up at the North entrance of the park to take us to the Imperial Summer Palace on the outskirts of Beijing. After lunch in one of the restaurants near the entrance we go in (30Ұ). We (that’s Carla, Gwendoline and I) walk in the direction of the huge man-made lake that takes up some there-quarters of the the huge grounds where the emperors and their families came to escape the summer heat of Beijing. Although the weather is still gray and hazy today the air certainly is fresher here than in the city: it must have been pleasant here for the Imperial family as well, although the water in the lake is a murky green.
The huge complex is a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1998, especially because it is a unique and intact example of the Chinese art of gardening and landscaping, so different from European or Japanese gardens. Walking along the lake front, we notice along, elegant bridge leading to an island and decide to go there. The bridge, with seventeen arches, is quite beautiful, and we walk across it to the island. On the island is the Temple of the Dragon King, where the imperial family used to pray for rain. Across the lake I see other interesting bridges (I’m a bridge nut!), but they’re too far away for now, certainly too far to walk. Instead, we catch a “Pleasure Boat” (6Ұ), nicely decorated and with a pagoda-like roof, which takes us slowly across the lake to a landing near the palace, where another interesting sight awaits us: a beautifully carved marble boat lies at the landing, as if ready to cast off.
There’s no time to view buildings today, and we’re happy to walk outside in the fresh air anyway. After a drink at a small cafe near the landing, we walk along the waterfront back to the entrance. We’ve only scratched the surface here: we agree we’d need to come back for a whole day to really experience it, rent a boat to row or paddle around the lake, and visit the buildings; in spite of that we’ve had an interesting and pleasant afternoon.
Wednesday 2005-09-21 - Beijing, China
Great effort on the Great Wall
Today is the big day. Last year when I was in Beijing I wasn’t able to do the hike along the Great Wall because my foot hurt too much (I only later found out it was broken). Now, with an ankle sprained not a week before we left and a heavy cold still bothering me, I’m not exactly in optimal condition for this undertaking, but I’m not to be deterred: I promise myself to do this and I’m going to: you really haven’t been to China unless you’ve visited the Great Wall, a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1987.
The alarm goes off at 5:15 in the morning: we have to leave at six! The stretch of the Wall we’re going to walk, from Simatai to Jinshanling is about a three-hour ride from the city, and we’re soon in the middle of the rush hour. It’s amazing just how big this city is: it takes very long before we leave it behind us and see fields from the bus windows. Not so much afterwards, though, a little after eight, the engine suddenly starts to make a funny noise and the driver stops the bus along the road near what amounts to a truckers cafe: some plastic tables and stools outside where simple meals are served. The driver starts checking the engine, borrows a bucket of water at the cafe, brings it back, and declares it’s good to go, so we all get in again. He turns the key and … nothing. All out again. It seems the starter engine is broken. Are we really going to walk on the Great Wall today?
The driver arranges alternative transportation for us (mobile phones are ubiquitous now in China) and not too long afterwards a car and three micro buses arrive, and on we go — with just over an hour’s delay. After we turn off the main road, at 10 km from Simatai, the landscape gets more beautiful; we’re riding through a river valley now. At the entrance we buy our first ticket (30Ұ; every stretch that’s accessible requires a separate ticket, we’ll have to buy a few more). Our hike starts at 10:30.
I’m actually rather worried, my cold makes me feel rather weak, and my sprained ankle is still painful and I worry about making it worse. But Marie Josee promises she’ll stay at the back of the group, and that’s reassuring. Across a little bridge over the river and then up we go along a bit of “fake wall” to one of the towers. I take out my GPS to record where we start: N 40.66188, E 117.27609; elevation 306m.
The first stretch of the wall here is fully restored but it’s quite steep down to a (metal) bridge across the river where we have to buy our next ticket to be able to cross (5Ұ), and from there up a steep incline again. This is especially hard because there are very high steps on the steepest stretches, almost too high for my short legs: I have to literally push myself up and tire quickly. I’m soon the last of the group. But after the restored stretch ends it gets even harder: it’s still just as steep here but now on the broken stones and rubble it gets hard to keep my left foot horizontal to spare my sprained ankle. A good thing I took my monopod which doubles as a walking stick: I really need it here.
All around me is my reward: a landscape of endless rolling steep hills and low mountains, mostly untouched, over which the Great Wall snakes from hilltop to mountaintop with a tower on top of each. And all that in glorious sunshine with a blue sky. With still a long way to go, I can’t stop every moment to take pictures but I still take quite a few. Still, the enormous scale of this defense wall in the landscape is hard to capture in pictures. Tourists are coming by the bus full to look at the wall, and a few of them even walk to a tower and back, but it only really sinks in when you actually feel it with your feet, going from hilltop to hilltop, up and down and up and down. Hikers on the wall are from all over the world, but the only Chinese are their guides. At what I think is the highest point I take another measurement with my GPS: we’re now at N 40.67046, E 117.26532; and 502 m high (later I see the next tower is just a little higher still, but not by much).
Marie Josee worries about my slow pace and asks if I want to go back — but we just left the hardest part behind us: no way am I going back to walk those steep stretches again. So on we go and luckily we hear of an easy shortcut below the wall that will save us a several towers. We decide to take it. All over the wall are Mongolians selling books, postcards, T-shirts and other souvenirs: the Mongolian border is nearby. They can be quite bothersome though: if you don’t say “no” firmly enough they’ll come after you and keep following. When we want to take the shortcut, a Mongolian woman comes with us, and shows the way (obviously hoping to sell us something) — a good thing though since it’s only a narrow trail, at places hard to see, and not at all as “easy” as the people telling us about it suggested. Just when I think we’ve had the hardest part, already close to where the path joins the wall again, I suddenly find myself stretched out along the path flat on my belly! There was a tree root in the shadow that I missed completely… Marie Josee comes running back, and the Mongolian woman wants to pull me up and starts dusting me off. “No, wait,” I gesture, and just sit up first, putting out feelers in my body to see how it feels: no alarm signals come back. Then I allow the two women to pull me up and slowly I stand: I can still walk, but my legs are quite shaky.
The woman offers to take my backpack and camera bag, and Marie Josee starts bargaining with her — she asks 50Ұ: far too much, 15 would be OK. At first she refuses, so Marie Josee takes my bags but later she agrees after all. She helps me over all the difficult spots, too, giving me a hand for support or to pull me up: of course she’s earning some money but she is genuinely caring. After the shortcut, the wall seems easier; I stop every now and then to take pictures again. The Wall and the landscape are still breathtakingly beautiful and impressive.
We have to buy another ticket for the last stretch of the wall and Marie Josee nearly starts a fight with the woman selling the tickets: last year she was in the same spot selling fake tickets but after some to and fro it turns out this time the tickets are for real — and needed.
A little before the point where we have to leave the wall the woman says she has to go back now: the border closes at a certain time and it’s a long walk back. But the last stretch is restored wall again and easier to walk on although I find the inclines harder to walk down than the steps. But Marie Josee is now carrying my bags and I can manage on my own. We find Henk, Carla and Gwendoline have been waiting for us (the ladies are quite tired as well) and with our little group we walk down to the parking place to meet the rest of the group.
We find our driver with a new bus — and just two of the group: the rest has not appeared yet! First we all sit down to have a drink (Marie Josee treats me to a beer) and wait. But soon we get restless: where can they be? If they walked on, they’ll find they can’t go further at one point but will have to walk a long way back: we may be in for a long wait… When they finally appear we hear their story: they did indeed miss the road down to the parking place and walked on to the next tower, spotting us through their field glasses and deciding to wait for us there; when they could no longer see us and we didn’t appear it dawned on them they were too far and went back. Lucky for them (and us) they didn’t walk any further!
Back in the hotel at 9:30 after a long drive through the falling evening, I go out with Carla and Gwendoline to ‘our’ neighborhood restaurant where for a change I have a good appetite: the chicken with cashew nuts is delicious!
Only then, back in my room, I finally take my shoes off and inspect my toes which started to hurt after my fall and are hurting even worse now. There’s nothing to see though: no swelling, no bruise: it can’t be too bad. Hopefully it will be better before Nepal!
Thursday 2005-09-22 - Beijing, China
Recuperating
I promised Marie Josee I’d take it easy today, and I do: I need it. I sleep late. My toes still hurt and my sprained ankle is still a bit sensitive so I wonder about my plans for walking around Xi’an tomorrow. After breakfast in my room I check out and sit in the lobby of our Beijing hotel writing, and drinking endlessly refilled jasmine tea. Then lunch at the neighborhood restaurant (mutton with onion) and some pictures of street scenes. Opposite the hotel I taste, then buy, some unknown fruit which the fruit seller tells me is called hang zhao (I hope I got that right). They’re shaped like a date but taste a little like an apple — very nice.
Back on the train
At 16:30 we leave for Beijing West Station. We don’t have a routine yet but boarding the train goes smoothly. I can sleep on a lower bed (my favorite) in the six-bed hardsleeper compartment and before lights out at 21:30 I’m in bed already. It’s fun to be back on the train in China!
Friday 2005-09-23 - Xi'an, China
Living in Xi’an
After a restless night with lots of coughing fits we arrive at exactly 7:00 in the morning in Xi’an. After dumping our luggage in two temporary rooms in the Jie Fang hotel, I go out with Carla and Gwendoline to walk to the old Muslim quarter.
For Carla and me it feels a bit like coming home: not only is the hotel familiar, but both Carla and I very much liked Xi’an last year and we immediately have the same feeling once we walk out. Clearly this city isn’t as rich as Beijing: while people mostly are well-dressed, they’re not as fashionable; there is also far less building activity here. But Xi’an is still a metropolis — and somehow a very relaxed one.
On the way to the center a sudden movement in the corner of my eye draws my eye to the right and I notice a man playing with a cat: Through an arch there seems to be a living quarter. Made curious, we want to walk through the gate, only to be stopped by the concierge. We gesture we just want to have a look around but he clearly misunderstands us and seems to think we’re coming to visit someone. At last he understands and waves us in with a welcoming smile. We find small tree-lined streets with low blocks of flats, potted plants; each building has a big number painted on the wall, and a row of chairs along the main street. Near the entrance are two groups of mailboxes. It all looks very organized but at the same time cozy with a fifties kind of atmosphere. The people, apart from some personnel and two vendors with stands of vegetables and herbs mostly elderly, all smile at us: it’s obvious they’ve never seen a tourist here but don’t mind us at all, on the contrary. We wonder if it’s maybe a pensioners’ complex or whether the younger people and children are simply at work and school. I take some pictures, but it’s hard to catch the atmosphere.
Fake violin
Our next stop is at the Bell Tower of Xi’an: last year it was closed because of restoration, and in scaffolding; this time we can see it in its full glory. We take some pictures but don’t go in: we’ve had quite enough steps yesterday on the Great Wall and our thighs are still hurting. Then we go into the ultra-modern shopping mall on the corner of the square hoping for a cup of coffee in the basement near the golden statue of the Monkey King but are sorely disappointed: not only has Monkey king disappeared to make place for a stand promoting a new cosmetics brand, but they’ve run out of coffee as well. I settle for a can of what I think is juice but turns out to be almond milk — delicious!
We sit, watching the goings-on at the cosmetics promotion. A girl appears, in a beautiful dark red dress, carrying a violin case. Then a microphone is set up on the stage, and there’s a lot of juggling and running around with some CDs. They try several CDs, with different types of music, including a violin concerto which makes place for other music again. Finally, the girl in the red dress climbs the stage, the music stops, and the violin concerto comes on again – false start. They start again, and now she seems to play along, but inaudible: maybe she’s just play backing. Someone gestures she should be closer to the microphone, she stops playing (while the violin on the CD plays on), steps closer, and starts playing again. All very weird, but no one seems to mind. But when she steps down from the stage she doesn’t look very happy either.
Hui quarter
Next we walk to the old Muslim quarter of Xi’an, where the Hui (Muslim Han Chinese) live and have their businesses and mosques. The part near the Drum Tower — the entrance gate to the quarter – is quite touristy, but that’s just a small part of the whole area. We head straight for the Great Mosque first (entrance 12Ұ) where you hear no more traffic, only twittering sparrows and cooing pigeons. The complex, with five consecutive courtyards full of greenery, is a beautiful mix of Chinese and Islamic architecture. At one point we also hear music, coming from a pair of speakers, but here and there some old Muslim men, here to pray, are singing along. It’s all very peaceful and relaxing.
Then out we go again, avoiding the tourists’ corner now, to roam around the quarter. It’s even larger than I expected; you can easily spend several hours roaming through the narrow crowded streets lined with local shops and workshops. Almost no tourist in sight: only once do we see a small group of Chinese tourists. It reminds us a little of the souks in the Middle East, with some streets dedicated to particular trades. We come through a butchers’ street, with piles of liver on the as well as stomachs and other animal parts we don’t recognize on display on the counters in the open air; butchers are art work in their workshops open to the street, flies buzzing around busily. It looks almost medieval. A customer comes to a store an asks about the liver; the butcher’s wife cuts off a slice and hands it to her, she takes a bite; apparently all the liver is cooked already. At a shop seemingly selling something else entirely, a little pile of raw kidneys is sitting on the counter. In another street we see lots of sweets ands pastries: they look very appetizing, at least.
When we are tired of walking around, we take a taxi back to the hotel — with the help of a girl that hastily comes to our help to translate: the very friendly driver doesn’t speak any English. He lets us out on the taxi stand near the station: with gestures he explains that he’s not allowed to drop us off right in front of the hotel — and they’re being watched with cameras: they’ll get a big fine if they’re caught.
First time Internet
With our busy program in Beijing and the very tiring hike along the Great Wall, I never had time to go to an Internet cafe to write my travel blog. Not that there aren’t enough Internet cafes in Beijing now, they seem to be sprouting up all over again, from little neighborhood places to big halls with hundreds of work stations.
This afternoon I sit down and write out my first stories; then together with Carla I go to an Internet cafe in Xi’an that Marie Josee told us about. Next to a bookstore, up two flights of no-longer functioning escalators is a large room with maybe several hundreds of machines. They have two rates: 3Ұ per hour for a fast connection, or 2Ұ for a somewhat slower machine (good enough for me). You simply pay a fixed amount for a chip card which operates the machine, and when you’re done you get the remainder back in cash.
A friendly attendant helps me to set up a US-English keyboard: impossible for me since the whole interface is in Chinese. First on is Carla, to write an email home, then it’s my turn. I don’t like the keyboard and make a lot of typos but at least I have a spell checker in Squirrel Mail.
On the way back I find some of the group at the restaurant around the corner from the hotel and we all have dinner together, with a delicious draft beer.
Saturday 2005-09-24 - Xi'an, China
Lazy day in Xi’an
I’m up late after yesterday’s busy day in Xi’an. I have a light breakfast at the cafeteria downstairs (two delicious balls of vegetables with a spicy sauce but to my surprise they have no tea today!). The rest of the morning I spend checking out, parking my luggage in the luggage room and catching up with my writing.
After lunch I go out with our tour companion Marie Josee to scout out another Internet cafe she spotted in the corner of the square across the street from the hotel. We find it’s very hot inside (in spite of the fans turning on the ceiling) and more expensive than yesterday’s Internet cafe to boot so we go back there. It’s been overcast, very dark today, and just when we arrive at the Internet cafe it starts to rain lightly. After two hours typing and (mostly) catching up I stop: I had planned to walk around anther area of the city that we saw from the taxi yesterday; I’m afraid it will be too dark if I continue typing any longer.
Alas, when I get out it’s not only raining harder but also much darker than I expected. I walk to the old quarter anyway. Once there I try to take some pictures, smuggling with exposure times otherwise it’s impossible to take any. The area is very interesting in terms of town planning: tree-lined streets without real sidewalks but the houses are all built on a much higher level than the streets: the difference of up to two meters is bridges with steps up to the entrances and oblique walls; sometimes there’s a path on the upper level to reach the mostly walled yards. It’s really hard to describe — I hope my pictures turn out.
I give up on my other plan to climb the North gate of the city wall and take more pictures from there — it’s really too dark now. Clearly I’ll have to come back to Xi’an once more: there’s still plenty of interesting things to see and do here.
At nine we go to the station again to catch the night train to Lanzhou.
Sunday 2005-09-25 - Lanzhou, China
Chenglish
Surprisingly for the very punctual Chinese trains, we arrive early in Lanzhou: we’re expected at 7:13 but we’re outside already at 7:00 — our bus hasn’t arrived yet. Last year’s trick works again this year: we go to a hotel near the station where Marie Josee sweet-talks us in and we’re allowed to have breakfast there. As in Xi’an there’s no tea; no problem: Marie Josee simply walks into the kitchen and arranges tea for all.
After an excellent breakfast we find our bus waiting for us, with a very nice Tibetan driver and his wife. We drive out of Lanzhou along a very nice new motorway. The mountains around here consist of thick packets of sediment, very land-slide prone; we notice interesting constructions along the road to prevent erosion but inevitably nature is stronger than man: it’s he end of the rainy season and in two places one side of the road is blocked by a landslide which they’re busy clearing. On the mountains there are also many terraces, some just to prevent erosion many also for agriculture: some fields contain yellow-green ripening grain; bundles of herbs are drying on top of the mud walls. All along the road there are rows of newly-planted young trees.
I’m convinced the Chinese are inventing their own brand of English: Last year in our “breakfast hotel” in Lanzhou we saw an interesting example of what I call “Chenglish”; today, along the road, we see a few nice inventions as well. Although foreigners are not allowed to drive in China, surprisingly nearly all road signs are bilingual — sort of: The outside lane of the road is called a “climbing lane” and we’re warned: “Forbid to chuck jetsam”.
Sunday 2005-09-25 - Linxia, China
Muslim country
We can’t stay on the nice new road; we turn off onto a secondary road which is narrower and a lot worse. We’ve left Lanzhou and urban China far behind us now. When we make a short photo stop for the landscape, our driver checks his tires and finds he has a flat inner tire. While he changes the tire (with the help of his wife) we have a photo opportunity with the children from a few farms nearby. We’re at N 35.63526, E 103.45063, at an elevation of 2300m already — we’ll get still higher today.
In Linxia we make a lunch stop at a small Muslim restaurant. We taste our first “Muslim tea” here: a mix of green tea leaves, various herbs and fruits and lots of big sugar crystals; it’s delicious and healthy! This is a specialty of this area of China. We also have a wonderful vegetarian noodle soup (with fresh hand-made noodles) and various vegetable dishes.
I hadn’t realized it before we left but this whole area of China is actually predominantly Muslim; Buddhism arrived here much later. Both groups live peacefully together though and mix easily, buying in each others’ shops, Buddhist monks even eating at Muslim restaurants (though not the other way round since the other restaurants are not halal). We see many mosques in a bewildering variety of architectural styles but all somehow a mix of Chinese and Arabic Islamic; a minaret may look like it does in the Middle East or it may look like a Chinese pagoda. The men mostly wear white skullcaps, sometimes beautifully embroidered; women wear a simple white hat, sometimes covered with a headdress of black velvet lace; a flap that normally goes below the face is sometimes flipped up over the head. In one town where we turn off again I see a sea of white-capped heads along the main street.
Along the roads now we see many brick works: they make bricks and roof tiles while smaller workshops make stone or cement decorations — the whole area seems to support the building industry, as is also suggested by some big billboards along the road. The road itself gets really bad now: they’re building a new road but for now it’s just kilometer after kilometer of construction area. We’re being thoroughly shaken: it’s a long and tiring trip this way.