Return to China, Pt. 1

Recently, the Great Firewall of China has become stronger than ever, partially due to the Tibetan and Uighur uprisings of the past few years. First, I was surprised to find facebook blocked (yet slightly relieved to have a cured for my addiction), but then I was even more appalled to learn that the site I use to post my travel blog had also been blocked. Blocking facebook seemed a bit extreme, yet I could still understand because the government’s motives since it is a useful tool for the organization of social movements, but blogger.com? I just didn’t get it. Perhaps it is because it is owned by google and China has had some beef with google for whatever reason. Anyways, that is the reason why I haven’t updated my blog for the last month or so. So, now get ready for a dumpload of traveling and adventures.

After I had said good-bye to my friends in Seoul, I embarked upon the return trip to China, again by the same ferry between Incheon, Korea and Tianjin, China. This time, however, I planned a bit more ahead, arriving at the ferry terminal with plenty of time to spare. While this ferry ride wasn’t as eventful as the previous one, there was still plenty to keep me entertained for 25 hours. Instead of meeting a wild Dutchman and a sweet Korean girl, I used my arms and legs to converse with an ajashi (middle-aged Korean woman) and spent the rest of the time getting to know a young couple from Texas who were finally on their journey of a lifetime and a Bulgarian of Turkish descent attaining his PhD from a university in Japan. As this ferry had departed in the evening rather than morning, we arrived in Tianjin the next night not quite knowing where we were going. Finally, after reviving my Chinese, which seemed to have gone into hibernation while in Korea, we were able to find our hostel and crash for the night. The next day we left for Beijing, leaving our Bulgarian chemist behind, who wanted to check out some of Tianjin’s beaches before attending his conference in Beijing.

In Beijing I parted ways with the Texans, as I had had enough of the city for one trip. That evening I hopped on a seven hour train, dropping me off in Datong at 1am, which was horrible timing on my part. While on the train I had read that Datong wasn’t too friendly of a city at night, which freaked me out a bit before arriving. However, this didn’t seem to be much of the case at all as long as I tried to hold onto a tough attitude, if not appearance. I didn’t have much of an idea of where I would stay, mostly because I lacked confidence in my 2001 guidebook, yet this mattered little as a number of women haggled me to stay at their hotels. After determining the cheapest option I finally caught some sleep, not knowing until the next day that it was indeed the place I had read of in the guidebook (although I didn’t get the rated I wanted until the next day as well). Datong is located to the northwest of Beijing and in itself is a terrible city. Since the surrounding area is quite arid, it has never had a strong agricultural base, only now finding productive activity in its large coal reserves. This has in turn led it to become one of the dirtiest and most polluted cities of China. There is construction occurring literally everywhere. At the end of a day on Datong you are completely covered in filth. In your mouth you can even taste and feel the dirt on your tongue and teeth. When you shower at night (since doing so in the morning is pointless), the water flowing off of your body and down the drain is distinctively brown.

However, despite all of these down points, Datong is a great place from which to see two of the best sites in China, both located not far outside of the city. The first is the Yungang Caves, one of the earliest examples of Buddhist cave art in China, created not long after Buddhism was imported to China from India. The caves were created around the 5th and 6th centuries AD by the Northern Wei dynasty, before their capital shifted to Luoyang of Henan province. At the site there are probably hundreds of caves, many of which are very small, but some of which are just huge. They house an incredible amount of Buddhist sculptures, all of which have been carved out of the Cliffside and for the most part, well preserved. I was amazed by both the size and detail so many of the statues contained. It was most surely a great sight to start off my return trip to China.

That night I was fortunate enough to meet some very beatnick Irish art students after switching to a dorm bed in the hotel. They had just finished teaching English in Guangdong Province for the summer and were also very impressed by the fine artistry of the caves. The n ext day we ventured together to the second great site of the Datong area, the Hanging Temple. To me, this is still one of the top sights of China, which makes me wonder why some guidebooks (rhyming w/ Clonely Janet) give it such a low rating. Originally the temple was built on the banks of a river in a deep valley with cliffs on both sides. However, due to frequent flooding, the monks decided that instead of moving the temple to another area they would move it up. Using an ingenious system of beams and stilts protruding from the Cliffside they built one of the most creative (and dangerous!) temples I have ever seen. As you meander carefully through the tiny passageways, you can’t help but wonder how it has survived all these years without smashing into the river below.

The next day I left Datong for the clean air of Wutai Shan, a national preservation area (meaning it has an insanely high entrance fee), famous for its immense number of Buddhist temples and beautiful alpine scenery covering its five huge peaks. I spent the first afternoon exploring some of the many temples, which besides being littered with tourists were some of the most peaceful, as well as aesthetically pleasing I had and still have visited in China. The best part of the temples is that they aren’t just relics of the past, but are still actively in use by monks and nuns, which is a bit rare for China. As you stroll through the grounds you can’t help but rubbing elbows with them. They often wanted to know my nationality (as is inevitably the first question received while in China) and upon finding out I’m American were for some reason very happy. Some of the monks I talked to were Tibetan, marked by their maroon robes with yellow sashes, who surprisingly started talking rapidly about the Dalai Llama, and presumably how they liked that he is welcomed and honored in the US. At night, the town was considerably sleepy, since its only real function is as a place for tourists to stay. However, on the main drag there were a number of shops playing beautiful Tibetan religious music as well as selling associated religious items, many of which I would have bought if I didn’t have to lug them around for the coming month.

I planned on doing somewhat of a large hike, at least part way up the northernmost peak, the next day, yet it kind of failed due to the poor weather and my lack of planning. Despite not making any significant ascents, I spent most of the day trekking through the hills on what I had at first thought were hiking trails, but later found out to be paths for farmers’ cattle (which I figured out by the many cow patties I almost stepped in). Nevertheless, I had a nice wandering with equally as nice scenery to accompany. I returned to the town in the mid-afternoon with enough time for another pseudo-hike up 1,000 steps to a temple overlooking the valley within which the main town lies. The next day I caught a bus to Pingyao, which is also of Shanxi Province, located about four hours southwest. On the bus I happened to sit next to a very animated old monk, who taught me how to crack walnuts with my hands and tried to tell me many things about Buddhism, which I didn’t understand due to the language barrier.

Like most Chinese cities, Pingyao has a long history. Unlike other cities, however, it has unintentionally resisted modernization by lacking any productive activity that is useful in the 20th century, that is until now, as a tourist center. Its appeal lies in that within the city walls it looks much like it would during the Ming dynasty of the 15th and 16th centuries. All of the buildings are of that era’s architectural style and throughout much of the old city no vehicles are allowed, giving it a laid-back and historic atmosphere. It looks like what most people imagine a Chinese city to look like before coming to China. While Pingyao is certainly a great city to hang out in, most of the sites can be seen in a day and a half so I didn’t feel the need to linger long. Yet one of the most amazing sites was on which was yet again not highly esteemed in the guidebooks, and which I really only visited on a whim. This was Shuanglin Si, another Buddhist temple, but this time it was derelict in such a way that I was creeped out by the atmosphere and the many statues, for which it is known. Perhaps it was due to the combination of the absence of visitors that day and the misty weather. More significant, however, was the state of the statues, which still gives me the shivers to think about. None had received any restoration work, and were all the more powerful for that. There was one room in particular that made me shudder, yet in a childish and giddy way. It was an exciting type of fear, which I wanted to both cultivate and face by staying in the room and staring at the sculptures for as long as possible. The faces of the statues were crumbling in such a way that it looked as if each one was staring me down as I walked about the room. I half expected them to be moving behind my back and then remaining still each time I turned back to look at them. After taking a photon of one I looked back at it and noticed a red sashel around its neck, which I hadn’t seen before. Freaked out, I quickly turned my camera on and was assured to see that the sashel was also in the picture. Upon returning to the city I was left with a lofty feeling that remained with me for the rest of the day.

In order to save both time and money I decided to take an overnight train to my next destination instead of spending another night in Pingyao. As per my usual mode of traveling, I arranged this with little to no planning. Instead of booking a sleeper bed ticket earlier in the day I decided it would be best to wing it and buy my ticket upon arrival at the train station. While I knew that there probably wouldn’t be any beds available I had heard of the possibility of buying a seated ticket and upgrading to a bed when on the train. What I hadn’t accounted for was all of the seated tickets being sold out as well. I had to resort to buying a type of ticket that is unique to China, as far as I know (perhaps India also). It is known as the no-seat or standing ticket, one of the cheapest, but certainly most uncomfortable, ways to travel in China. Still, I somehow had great hope in my ability to upgrade my ticket. However, I soon learned that this hope was founded upon false grounds. Not only were there no sleeper beds available to upgrade to, but no seats as well. It seemed that I was doomed to stand for 10 hours. Fortunately, for the first 25 hours (1am-3:30am) the occupants of the seats had yet to board and I was able to have a short, but critically important nap. I was soon awoken by the person whose seat I was sleeping in, but once again I was lucky enough to have the people in that sweat squish over allowing me to place half a cheek down. Yet this soon became less comfortable than standing, so I resumed my previous upright position for the next few hours. Sometime in the early morning, soon after the sun had risen, a box that someone had been sitting on in the aisle became free and I once again had a place to sit, which I traded off with other from time to time. Somehow I got through it all, arriving in Luoyang of Henan Province at 11am. However, this was not before I experienced one of the strangest sights I’ve ever seen in China, and most certainly on a train ride. At about 9 or 10am I was alarmed to see a man whose arms ended about halfway between his shoulders and elbows, standing on a seat above the crowd yelling something in Chinese to everyone. Although what he was yelling was incomprehensible to me, it seemed as if he was blaming everyone for the loss of his arms, or at least trying to make them feel guilty for having what he did not. He followed this by running through the aisle continuing to yell while pointing his stubs at various passengers. After he had finished with this, a midget (I’m sorry if this is not the politically correct word, I’m not quite sure what is, so please do tell me if you know) joined him. As they shoved their way through the aisle, the midget was holding a wad of cash, also yelling and pointing at everyone he passed, as well as soliciting money from them, presumably as society’s compensation for their physical disadvantage. As the midget came up to some guy near me, that guy tried his best to ignore the midget’s request. Upon seeing this, the midget slapped that guy’s hand with the wad of cash prompting him to give up a 1 yuan note. Somehow I was reminded of bandits, con artists, and railroads of the American Wild West.

After arriving in Luoyang I could not believe how incredibly horrendous my clothes reeked. They smelled like a horrible combination of multiple types of smoke, sweat, and urine. Anyhow, I was absolutely exhausted having gotten hardly any sleep the night before (and therefore negating the whole purpose of the overnight train). Once I had checked into the hostel, which was really a hotel that put a bunch of beds into one of the rooms to attract backpackers, I passed out for a few hours.

The next day I set out for a the Longmen caves, which are as, if not more, brilliant as the Yungang Caves. In fact, they are somewhat of a continuation of the Yungang Caves after the Northern Wei moved their capital here from Datong, making the artistic progression between the two sites quite interesting. The most obvious difference was size. The most spectacular statues of Buddha and his attending bodhisattvas just tower above you. Despite the continuously crappy weather, it was an awe-inspiring sight.

After exhausting the only reason I had to visit Luoyang I took an overnight train to Xi’an. This time, however, I learned from my previous mistake and booked a sleeper bed ahead of time, resulting in a very comfortable and enjoyable ride. In Xi’an, I was lucky enough to have an old friend, Charlie, who had stayed at our house 9 years ago on an exchange trip. Charlie and his wife were extremely hospitable to me, which was a huge relief after a previously tough bout of traveling. Not only did he pick me up from the train station, host me in his house, and treat me to delicious Xi’an style food, he went out of his way to drive me to the famous Terracotta Warriors outside town, waited for 2 hours while I walked around, and drove me back. I was truly grateful.

The warriors themselves, were surprisingly unimpressive to me. Perhaps it is partly because they’re built up to be one of the greatest sights in China, if not the world, and partly because of the insane amount of tourists. Either way I found the story behind them and their historical significance, as well as the continuing archaeological excavation, to be much more interesting than the sight itself. Only about 1/8th of the warriors have been excavated, so perhaps once it is complete it will be the impressive sight it is made out to be. Fortunately, Xi’an is a nice city, especially the intimate market streets of the Muslim quarter, where Xi’an’s Hui minority (Chinese Muslims) live. The area houses China’s largest mosque, which is an incredible mix of Chinese and middle eastern architecture, design, and artwork. There is also an incredible variety of snacks and deserts in the area which are much different from the typical Chinese choices. I also spent a great deal of my time in Xi’an relaxing, re-charging my batteries, studying Chinese, and just reading, all of which helped me gear up for the next leg of my journey, starting in Chengdu, Sichuan province.

Sichuan has always called to my imagination, largely because of its intensely spicy and unique cuisine as well as its mountainous topography, located at the edge of China proper, bordering Tibetan and Turkic regions. The capital, Chengdu, is one of the more laid back capitals of China. Despite looking like another huge, modern Chinese metropolis at first glance, it is still very distinct with pockets of old town areas, small streets, and a lively culture of teahouses, mahjong, and Sichuan opera. I was fortunate to make some Chinese friends here through a connection of Charlie’s. They showed me around the city as well as taking me to eat some of Sichuan’s famous food, most notably the super spicy hot pot. They also helped me add a few new dishes to my ‘weird foods I’ve eaten in Asia’ list. These include pig’s feet (supposedly good for the skin) and duck’s tongue, both of which were actually quite tasty. They were also kind enough to treat me to Sichuan opera, apparently quite different from the Beijing variety (which I have yet to see). In Sichuan, I also had the chance to see two of china’s most famed sights. One was the giant pandas and their cute cubs at the Giant Panda Breeding Research Center. The other was the Giant Buddha, the world’s largest carved Buddha, standing at 71m tall, originally intended to protect fisherman from the rough waters it looks over. After spending a few days there, Chengdu has definitely made it onto my short list of places in China I might like to live, along with Xi’an and Kunming.

Since there is quite a bit more to tell I'll save the rest for the next post. Hope you've enjoyed - Miles