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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.
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.
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”.
