Journey to the East

Part 3 in my re-cap of the past few month’s travels: My return to Xi’an.

Family Reunion China style: Caroline and I meet up in Xi'an.

The first leg of my travels with my sister’s college class took me back to Xi’an, where I was to meet them. Having been there over the National Day break in October, there was something that felt quite familiar about heading back out west. After all,  Xi’an has been one of my favorite cities in China thus far (granted, my experience here is very limited). I was looking forward to getting back to some familiar sights: getting to spend some time walking (and eating) in Xi’an’s Muslim Quarter (home of probably the best street food I’ve eaten in China), getting to see the terracotta warriors again with Caroline, (who would be seeing them for the first time), and staying a night or two in the incredibly pleasant Seven Sages hostel where some friends stayed during our October visit.

Caroline gets up close and personal with the terracotta warriors

Returning to the terracotta warriors: Like visiting old friends?

All of the familiar stuff was indeed a lot of fun, and I enjoyed getting a second chance at a lot of things (especially food). The terracotta warriors were especially nice to see without the insanity of a large crowd coming for National Day weekend (this time I felt that I could take much longer to really look at them). However, it was a seriesof new experiences that really made Xi’an good this time around. A few vignettes:

Shadow Puppets and a Dumpling Feast

Shadow puppets: A uniquely beautiful and ancient Chinese art.

For almost 1,ooo years, Xi’an was the capital of Imperial China. It was also the last stop on the eastern end of the legendary silk road. Not surprisingly, Xi’an was and still is a center of culture and art. During the Tang Dynasty (c. 700-950 A.D.) the city was home to poets of the imperial court, many of whom enjoy a legendary reputation in China today. The Shaanxi Province History Museum is jam-packed full of pottery, brozne work, sculpture and jade which are a testament to the city’s artistic legacy. Perhaps the most unique art form to come from Xi’an, however, is the art of shadow puppetry. On our first night in Xi’an we were treated to a shadow play performed by a local troupe. They performed two short plays: the first a comedic exchange between lovers, and the second the story of The Monkey King (a character featured in famous Chinese epic novel, Journey to the West) and how he guarded a caravan bringing sacred Buddhist sutras from India against malevolent spirits lurking in the treacherous mountain passes. I had seen shadow puppets depicted in film, or in pictures, but I’d never gotten to see them in person. I was not disappointed: the show was one of the highlights of my return to Xi’an.

The Monkey King, in puppet form.

Shadow puppets

Made from translucent leather, brightly colored, surprisingly graceful, and wildly imaginative, these puppets are distinctly Chinese, and watching them is a mesmerizing kind of experience. Indeed something about them seems almost surreal, or otherworldly. Perhaps it’s the dark, or their shadowy translucence which makes them almost glow, or their separation from the audience behind a veil. Regardless, they’re amazing to watch as they sing and dance (one even blew real smoke from it’s puppet tobacco pipe). After the show I got to peek behind the curtain and take and even try out the puppets for myself, which was fun, despite the fact that it’s incredibly hard to get them to do anything interesting.

"Pay no attention to the men (and women) behind the curtain": our performers, revealed.

Trying puppetry out for myself... it's incredibly difficult to do gracefully.

Dinner after the show, a full-fledged dumpling banquet, proved to be just as artful. Xi’an has a multitude of famous dumpling restaurants, and in a city which is renowned as one of the best culinary cities in China, dumplings are amongst the city’s most famous cuisine. On this particular occasion, we were treated to a whole host of dumplings with fillings that ranged from meats (duck, shrimp and scallop, ground pork, etc.) to vegetarian dumplings of all varieties, to sweeter dessert-style dumplings filled with red-bean paste or peanut and sesame paste. More amazing still was the artistry with which they were made: the duck dumplings came wrapped in the shape of ducks, others looked like fish or flowers, while others still looked like crescents. Some were steamed, others boiled and further still some were lightly fried. In total there were probably at least 15 different types of dumplings, each with a distinct shape and filling. As a finale, the staff dimmed the lights and brought to each table a copper pot (which looked something like a hotpot), which was lit underneath, and contained a soup with tiny miniature dumplings. The purpose, I’m told was to see how many of these little things you could get in one scoop, which would fill a cup. The number of dumplings in the scoop indicates the recipients fortune, with some suggesting good luck and others suggesting inauspicious events lurking just around the corner. My result: One, very lucky, singular dumpling which suggested smooth sailing for the rest of the trip (not like winning the dumpling lottery, I know, but an accurate prediction nonetheless).

Food, art or both? Duck shaped, duck filled dumplings.

If this were some sort of culinary competition, they'd certainly win high marks for presentation.

Clearly this was not a run-of-the-mill meal.

The Cave Dwellings of Liaoyuan Village:

One of the highlights of my return to Xi’an was a trip to see the cave dwellings in Liaoyuan village just outside of the city. The soil around Xi’an is mostly loess, a kind of loosely compacted, soft, yellowish, dusty, wind-blown sediment which is really easily burrowed into. Not surprisingly, people in the area have historically taken advantage of this and have carved their homes straight into the sides of the hills themselves. Hardening the soil allows for a sturdy home, with the soil itself acting as a natural insulation. Because it retains heat so well, the homes are warm in winter, and because they’re underground, they’re cooler than being above ground in the summer.

Liaoyuan village: home to traditional cave dwellings.

This is the entrance to a cave home. They're simply dug straight into the sides of the hills.

The inside of a cave home. Pretty spartan.

This home seemed to have fallen into disuse.

Some of the nicer caves have been hooked up to electricity.

The spirit of the Chairman lives on in Liaoyuan: Mao propaganda in one of the homes.

Liaoyuan is so fascinating in part because of its authenticity. Our guide told us that most people in this community still work in the pomegranate fields nearby, just like their parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and innumerable generations before them did. While we toured the houses, a woman who lived in the neighborhood insisted that we come visit her pig styes, and in doing so invited us to see the way that most Chinese people still earn their living, through hard work, either in agriculture or elsewhere. This is the real China, which means that unlike nearby Xi’an– which has a Starbucks, several McDonald’s, scores of western hotels, and even a Papa John’s Pizza– Liaoyuan remains mostly undeveloped, and mostly impoverished. Like many areas of rural China, Liaoyuan is also feeling the changes of rapid economic development. Youth in the community no longer want to live in the caves. Many no longer want to even live in Liaoyuan, preferring to move to Xi’an and try life in the big city.

The next time someone tells you that you're house is a pig stye, direct them to this photo.

The pigs were quite happy to see us.

Jumping up to say hello.

The local economy: A roadside pomegranate stand.

While I was there, Liaoyuan struck me as being very similar to Shaxi village in Yunnan, where I spent some time during my study abroad semester. Both are villages carrying out life in the traditional way that it has been carried out for centuries. Both are on the edge of communities with greater development and greater prosperity. Both have a rich cultural heritage that, should it be lost, we be a terrible shame. Both face struggles as they tow the line between tradition and development. It’s a story that gets repeated so often here: China must find a way to preserve its heritage while advancing into the future. It’s a difficult path to forge, and places like Shaxi and Liaoyuan are the ones that will feel this tension the most. It will be fascinating to see what the future brings here.

More updates will come soon. I’ll recap the rest of my trip, and preview the next couple of weeks. Spring Festival is coming up, and there’ll be plenty to say about that. Stay tuned…

At "the Bird's Nest": Beijing STILL welcomes you.

As promised, here’s entry number two in the on-going Travel Re-Cap Series of this blog. In late December, I made a trip to Beijing. It was my first trip back since early June of 2008. Then, the city was buzzing with excitement about the Olympic games that they would be hosting in just a few months. During that August, Beijing did seem to be nearly ubiquitous. The games, from the elaborate Opening Ceremonies to the extinguishing of the Olympic torch were like a 24-7 infomercial for the city, broadcasting a very simple message: This place is awesome.

The Bird's Nest, the heart of the 2008 Beijing Olympics.

The Bird's Nest: Up close

More of The Bird's Nest in detail

Looking up at the stadium.

I was curious upon my return to see if the city had changed any since I was last there. I did find much of Beijing to feel the same coming back to it. The same energy and bustle of the big city. The same tangible feeling of history and culture (virtually everywhere you go in Beijing is of some historical or cultural importance). The same full-on, gung-ho optimism that was so noticeable before the start of the games. Mostly, the only difference was that it was December and unlike in June, it was really, really cold.

The Bird's Nest: Main stairwell

The view from the foyer of the upper deck. All of those exposed beams are really cool visually.

A "Bird's Eye" view of Beijing from the inside of the stadium.

It was my trip out to see the now legendary “Bird’s Nest” that proved to be the most intriguing part of my visit to Beijing. The stadium at the heart of Beijing’s Olympic village, was the grandest stage of the 2008 games. Along with its counterpart, the National Aquatic Center (also known as the Water Cube which is located just across the street), the Bird’s Nest saw the most dramatic and intense moments of this Olympics. Even though the stadium sits empty now (except for a temporary “Snow Festival” which allows those who buy tickets to go down onto the floor of the stadium and take innertube rides on the artificial snow that has been trucked in to create a very bizarre “winter wonderland” of sorts), it was more than a little cool to think that I was seeing a place that had witnessed the greatness of Usain Bolt, or the pageantry of those now famous Opening Ceremonies. From the seat I took in the now very empty stands, I was gazing out onto the same place that had seen so many triumphs. Knowing that was incredible.

The view from my seat.

The stands at the Bird's Nest: They're all empty now.

Seats in the Bird's Nest: Detail.

History aside, these buildings are even structurally impressive and designed with an incredible precision, ingenuity, cultural significance and artistry that is simply amazing. Standing in the shadow of the stadium, one is immediately impressed by its intricacy. On top of all of the stadium’s gracefulness and strangely beautiful architecture is the fact that these buildings are all designed to be incredibly energy efficient and make great use of  ”green technology” (in the pamphlet you get when you go to the stadium, there’s mention of all of this… I’ve lost the pamphlet, but trust me, the stats are pretty impressive).

The Water Cube, as made famous by Michael Phelps.

The designs for the Water Cube were actually based on the mathematical structure of soap bubbles... which is really cool when you see it up close like this.

The Water Cube, up close.

Like many other former Olympic structures, the Bird’s Nest and Water Cube now stand empty. Their moments of glory have passed, but it hardly seems fair that these magnificent structures should go completely unused. As the city now faces the tough question of “What the hell do we do with these things now?” I hope that the answers they come up with are creative and suitable for such great facilities. It would be such a shame for them to go to waste.
More on my travels will comes soon, hopefully. Stay tuned for more!

Yesterday, the inevitable occurred. After several months of living in Ji’nan, I caved. I bought a bicycle. After some deliberation (and finding out that both of my roommates had purchased them, meaning that I would now have to either buy one myself or ride a cab to work by myself every morning) I went out to the local bike market and picked up a lightly used racing bike.

This was probably bound to happen eventually. After all, I live close enough to work that it only makes sense that I should commute by bike, which is a good form of exercise and a good deal cheaper than catching a cab or even taking the bus.

Yesterday afternoon I took it out for a spin around town, timing myself between locations, seeing just how fast I could get from one place to another. I’ve got to say, I’m pretty pleased… this is a pretty fast set of wheels. As a bonus, I’m learning new things about this city. Riding to work on my own means that I get to explore new corners of the city. Taking the back way home from school takes me past a neighborhood that I didn’t really even know existed. I’ve seen markets and local restaurants that I previously never would have been aware of. I’m learning new shortcuts and noticing new things about well-worn paths that I had previously never paid attention to: the ever so subtle presence of German-style architecture down near the train station (remnants of the German Concession Era in Shandong Province), or the very upscale looking Western-style cafe not far from WAL-MART. Suddenly, Ji’nan is open to me in a way it never was before… and it’s so much fun to go out and explore.

Also, I think I’m beginning to understand something new about the average Chinese experience… transportation. Now, I get to experience the morning commute in an incredibly intimate, “hands on” kind of way. For those of you who’ve never experienced it, driving in this country is absolutely wild. Even riding in the passenger seat of a car can feel like an adventure. Now, as I ride over the bridge that takes me to the other side of town or cross the wide-laned streets near QuanCheng Square I’m right in the thick of that adventure… up close and personal. It’s riveting.

And it’s occasionally terrifying. In any case, the bike has quickly become my new favorite toy. I’ll try to post some pictures of it before too long. The weekend is looming in already. Look out for more updates in the next few days.

As promised, here’s the first in a series of what I’d like to call portraits (or sketches, or snapshots, or impressions if you will) of the places I’ve been in the last month or so while my blog was down. We’ll start with the Pearl of the Orient, China’s largest city: Shanghai.

"The Future": Shanghai's very sci-fi looking PuDong District at night.

I’ve been to Shanghai twice over the past month or so: once in mid-December, and just recently over the last two weeks in mid-January.  Here’s what I’ll say about the city: it’s everything to everyone all at once. Want good Mexican food in China? Shanghai’s got it. Need a foreign language book? Look no further than Shanghai. Want to tour an excellently preserved Ming Dynasty residence? Yu Gardens in Shanghai is your spot. Want to hang out at some really chic art galleries? Shanghai’s got plenty. Look for pearls? Antiques? Fake North Face gear? Want to go to a first-rate history museum? Want to eat some gourmet food? Shanghai’s got all of it.

The Cathay Theatre in the heart of the French Concession.

Indeed, Shanghai is a city of multiple, complex identities. As the “Pearl of the Orient” it is a city that evokes images of its semi-colonial past, full of an exoticism that borders on burlesque. This is Old Shanghai, as seen through as sepia-toned lens which places the city under a shroud of mystique. It’s a city of wide sycamore-lined avenues, mansions in the colonial style, steamer boats, silk and pearls. But Shanghai is also a modern city, one that is the financial capital of China, if not Asia on the whole. It’s a city with full of towering glass skyscrapers which look like something out of an 80’s sci-fi movie, a super-fast suspension train, and stock exchange. This part of Shanghai is cutting edge, up-to-date, leading the world, and hosting a World’s Fair which starts in May (Yes, Shanghai is the kind of city that can resurrect the World’s Fair). Despite all of this, however, Shanghai is still very much Chinese. Long before the colonials settled in, Shanghai was a bustling Chinese port city at the mouth of the Yangtze River.

Some serenity amidst the city at the center of Yu Gardens in Old Shanghai.

Shanghai's skyline as seen from the top of "The Bottle Opener"

The Shanghai antiques market.

Each different area of the city reflects a different facet of Shanghai  as a whole. The PuDong is a beacon of modernity, which feels like it was pulled straight out of Back to the Future 2. The New Oriental Pearl TV Tower (that thing in the picture above which looks like a rocket ship), is without doubt the strangest looking building I’ve ever seen in person, and the Shanghai World Financial Center (also known as “The Bottle Opener”) is one of the Top 5 tallest buildings in the world. The French Concession, one of the cities largest districts, still bares the stamp of European influence. When you walk there, amidst the old French style townhouses, and upscale boutiques it barely feels like China at all. Rather, you might mistake it for some far-flung outpost of Europe. By contrast, when walking by the traditional rooftops and lazy coy ponds in the Yu Gardens of Shanghai’s Old Town, you feel the weight of a city with a very long history.

Figuring out this city is a challenge. In my time in Shanghai, I’ve eaten at trendy French bistros in the Tianzifang district known for its flashy boutiques, taken in the view from the Sky-Deck on the 104th floor of the tallest building in China, eaten traditional Shanghai style Xiao Long Bao (soup filled dumplings), made fresh at a restaurant on a side street in a homey, traditional neighborhood called a shikumen, and toured the Shanghai History Museum, which is one of the best in China. With such divergent and distinct personalities, what can you possibly make of this place?

Jing An Temple: Where old Shanghai and New Shanghai merge.

Colonial style buildings in the French Concession

In my opinion, here’s the secret to the city: Shanghai at its most interesting points, is a place where all of these things intersect. There it is a city which is at once modern and traditional. It is a city of Old China leading a the way in a Global Market. It’s a city of upscale, cosmopolitan tastes that still can serve up a heaping helping of homegrown culture. Take Jing An Temple, an active and lively Buddhist temple that was first constructed in 200 A.D. during the Han Dynasty and is currently nestled in between modern office parks, and is serviced by it’s very own subway stop. OR take Fuxing Park, which is in the heart of the French Concession, and features really pretty walking lanes and flower gardens, and is a place where every morning you can see people out doing Tai Chi, or morning exercises. It’s hard to wrap your head around, but the contrast is really what makes this place great.

Before I first went to the city, I heard lots of different opinions on the it from various people that I trust and respect. There seemed to be either a strong affinity for the place, or a real sense of aversion to it. While I would not rate it as my favorite place in China, I would definitely count myself as one of those who enjoys Shanghai. Like Paris or New York, it’s got just about everything you could ever want. And while it may not be big on sightseeing destinations like other Chinese cities, Shanghai does really make for a great escape every now and then. For now, here’s the best of the rest of Shanghai in photos:

Shanghai traffic near Jing An Temple

Haui Hai Road in the French Concession lit up at night.

A largescale sculpture of the Chairman in Shanghai's art district.

For sale near Yu Gardens in Shanghai.

Old Town Shanghai

Burning offerings at Jing An Temple.

Shanghai's famous "Bund": A strip of colonial style buildings on the HuangPi Riverfront near downtown.

A large magnet near Century Ave. in the PuDong, heart of Shanghai's financial district.

The Observation Deck of the "Bottle Opener." Seriously, doesn't this look like Star Wars?

Coming soon, "Shanghai Expo 2010: Better City-Better Life"

Ok… In the last entry I wrote, I decided that since I’ve been on the road frequently during the past couple of weeks, and I’m  not sure that I can adequately cover all of that ground, I’ll just provide some “vignettes” or impressions of each of the places I’ve been to. I thought that it might also be helpful to give a brief outline of my travel itinerary from the past month or so, just so you all can map things together on some sort of timeline. This is basically what my travels looked like over the past month and a half:

December 13-16: Shanghai

December 21-23: Beijing

January 12-13: Xi’an

January 14-15: Nanjing

January 16-18: Shanghai

January 19-21: Hangzhou

The January trip was mostly done by accompanying my sister’s winter term college class on their own two and a half week jaunt around this country. There’s a lot to say about each of these places, so stay tuned for more (and for pictures!)

A lake in the heart of Red Leaf Valley.

Not being from New England, the idea of tourism built solely around the leaves changing colors is a little baffling (I mean, I understand… some places are particularly beautiful in fall, and so the “fall colors” are a big draw. But isn’t the scenery pretty enough that it should be a draw all year round?). This week provided me with my first chance at leaf-related tourism: A trip to Ji’nan’s own “Red Leaf Valley” (红叶谷, hóngyègǔ), a place we’d heard quite a bit about since September. Of course, Red Leaf Valley is massively pumped up by the local tourism industry (I’m told, though I could never confirm this, that if you call the local provincial-level bureau of tourism you can get a status-check on the “redness” of the leaves…. in this sense you can get a “redness advisory” for the valley, and gauge whether or not it’s in “peak condition” for viewing) and of course, we’ve been planning a trip for quite some time now. Of course, with the weather being reasonably warm up until this weekend, it hadn’t really seemed like fall yet, and thus the idea of the leaves changing color seemed like a distant thing. Also, we kept hearing reports from reasonably “in-the-know” sounding people which sounded something like this: “You’re going to Red Leaf Valley… Oh, you should wait. The leaves really aren’t that red yet. Go next week.” With the onset of cold weather, and the passing of Halloween, we realized that soon fall would be behind us entirely, and that we would have missed the opportunity altogether, red leaves or no.

As it turned out, peak season for Red Leaf Valley seems to have already passed. Despite reports which insisted that the “redness” of the leaves was unfit for tourist appreciation, the peak of the valley’s fall splendor had clearly come and gone by the time of our arrival. There was evidence to support this theory: on the ground, we found many a red leaf. The trees however, looked pretty bare. This should not detract from the the place. In fact, it’s a rather pretty place, even in all of its stripped-down, winter nonchalance. In fact, most of the hills were still dusted with the light snow that had fallen the previous two days, and was now melting away with the arrival of warmer weather.

The park itself lies just on the outskirts of Ji’nan, and takes about an hour on one of the city buses to reach. From the bus-stop, we walked about 25 minutes down a little road to the main entrance of the valley. The area around the park itself reminds me, strangely enough, of the lower elevations in the Big Horn Mountains of Wyoming: lots of scrub grass and evergreen trees and bare exposed rock at the tops of hills (minus, of course the snowcapped and rocky peaks of the Big Horns… Steve, feel free to jump in and tell me that I’m wrong about this). In some senses, this preliminary stretch of road may have been more attractive and more authentic than what lay inside the park (more on that later). We experienced a good deal of this terrain as we wound down the road toward the entrance.

Inside the park is something of a different story. The actual grounds are much more maintained than the surrounding area, more manicured. Neatly made paths, lined with stone railings encircle the valley, offering easy access to its most scenic vistas. Here and there a small temple, pagoda , bridge or shrine will pop up, punctuating the landscape and completing the perfectly picturesque scenery. Don’t get me wrong, the place is beautiful… it’s just that it feels a little less natural than the area around it, which is beautiful in an unkempt and somewhat wilder way. The park itself is a strange and multifunctional place: imagine if someone combined a state park with an amusement park, with a sort of “romance-themed” photoshoot area. You’d have Red Leaf Valley. The place has all the attractiveness of a state park: the trails, the hills, the water, etc. It also has a ropes course, a zip-line, bungee-jumping and paddleboats. On top of all of this, it has several “photogenic” areas clearly set up so that Chinese couples can take wedding photos there (I’m not kidding, there’s a location called “Lover’s Lane,” which features a cutesy little white swing and flower garden, and even an old red convertible, perfect for a marriage car). As a result, we did see MANY Chinese couples with their hired photographers out taking wedding/engagement photos. Mostly this meant that in the fourty degree weather, bride and groom to be alike shivered in their formal attire while trying to strike deeply romantic poses by the scenic lake/pagoda/ledge/whatever. It was a fairly amusing sight to me.

The afternoon was a lot of fun all told. Sure, the leaves seemed to have fallen, but we got some good, light hiking in, and the scenery was still really pretty, so it was a worthwhile trip. Certainly, it was a welcome distraction from work and lesson planning during the week. Tomorrow starts yet another weekend at Aston school. Midterms are coming up fast. It hardly seems possible. More to come later.

Tai Shan at daybreak.

At long last, here comes the update about our trek up Tai Shan. In the original Chinese, the title of this post, which is a quotation about Tai Shan from the Tang Dynasty poet Du Fu, reads something like this:

“会当淩绝顶, 一览众山小”- 杜甫

Hui dang ling jue ding, yi lan zhong shan xiao.

The sentiment is pretty much spot on. When you get to the top at Tai Shan, you really feel as if you’ve accomplished something. We climbed through the dark, in order to catch the sunrise. When daylight finally revealed how high we’d climbed, we were all fairly amazed. The climb itself was a fairly spectacular effort. As we later discovered, the elevation at the peak of Tai Shan is fairly significant… about 5,100 feet. While this is nothing compared to many of the highest mountains in China (many of which are part of the Himalayas, which are unfathomably tall), its nothing to sneeze at, either. Like many Chinese mountains, Tai Shan has been made somewhat “user-friendly,” in that stairs have been carved into the mountain. As we began to climb this felt very convenient. The steps were gentle and led up to wide landings that provided a brief respite from the climb. At the very end of our climb, however, this made no real difference. The last 200 yards or so were a rough climb. I’m not going to exaggerate when I say that the incline of this part of the trek had to be close to 75 degrees, vertical. Needless to say, I was feeling pretty ragged by the time I reacehd the top. I did, however, feel like I had accomplished something.

Climbing the mountain at night was an experience in and of itself. The darkness may have obscured any views of the mountain, we did get excellent views of the stars. We also got to peek in to the little shrines that dotted the mountainside (Tai Shan is one of the holiest mountains of Daoism, and is littered with little temples and shrines). It was a cool cultural experience to watch Chinese pilgrims light incense from the huge furnaces at these shrines. In the pitch dark, the fire was a incredibly illuminating, and made for some neat pictures.

About the trek… We began climbing at 11:30PM, thinking that we’d reach the top just in time to see the sun come up. One of my co-workers referred to this as a “schoolboy error” on our part. We got to the top at about 4:00AM, after about 5 hard hours of climbing. The sun would not rise until about 6AM. The intervening two hours were spent huddling for warmth and crouching beneath large rocks that served as windbreaks. At the top of the mountain, aboved the treeline, temperatures dropped to nearly 35 degrees Fahrenheit, and winds reached upwards of 20-25 mph. Even wearing nearly four layers of clothes, a jacket, and a winter cap, I felt cold. We were the first up the mountain, perhaps because the other Chinese climbers knew exactly how cold it would get at the top and chose to wait until closer to the sunrise. As daybreak neared, however, we found the number of people gathering at the peak to increase. Suddenly, the mountain top was crowded with tourists, foreign and domestic alike, all trying to glimpse the dawn. The sun came up slowly, and in fact we could see it moving behind the clouds that settled low around the horizon. Behind them, it glowed, like a hazy orange blot, until finally it peeked over the edge, and rose, blazing and orange into the sky just above eye level. I tried to take as many pictures as possible, but of course, my hands were freezing. We took in the sunrise for as long as our tolerance for standing in the wind and cold would allow. After about 10 to 15 minutes we started back down the mountain, this time in the daylight. We were able to see just how far we had come, which was pretty amazing in and of itself. Tired and groggy, our crew elected to ride a cable car back down the mountain (as if five hours of climbing weren’t enough!). As the car floated over the mountain, I took in as much of the scene as I could.  Looking back at the peak as I descended gave me a real sense of accomplishment. It was a very good night indeed.  Cold and tired, we reached the train station and made our way back to Ji’nan.

On the ascent of Tai Shan: Candles at a Daoist shrine.

Pilgrims offering incense at Tai Shan

Offerings of incense candles at a small shrine.

Money is tied into these red ribbons, which are tied to trees. It's supposed to bring prosperity.

Close-up.

These are padlocks. You can find them all over Tai Shan, especially near the shrines. They serve some ceremonial purpose, but no Chinese person that I asked could give me an explanation that I could understand about what they were there for.

At the highest peak, waiting for the sun to rise.

This was taken at about 6AM. The sun is just starting to rise.

The sun begins to peek out.

First light at Tai Shan.

Sunrise, at last.

A shrine near the peak of the mountain.

The path to the peak.

As viewed from the top: The final ascent at Tai Shan (those stairs are the last big push you have to make to get up the mountain. Note how steep they are).

One of the mountain's many stunning vistas.

 Hope you enjoy the photos. I’ll update more later.

The heart of Xi'an: Belltower Square, and the Drum Tower as seen from the Bell Tower.

Well, it’s been a week since my return home from vacation in Xi’an, so I think I’ve had enough time to thoroughly organize my thoughts on the city, and the trip. I guess it’s about time for an update. So here goes:

The trip itself:

National Day is one of the busiest travel holidays of the year, and so naturally, a prime tourist destination like Xi’an is awfully difficult to get to. Ticket availability is REALLY scarce, and we were unable to get a sleeper car on the way to Xi’an. This, of course, meant that en route to we sat in what are kindly referred to as “hard seats.” Imagine a seat on a school bus without as much padding, and a rigid back which is set at a 90 degree angle. Now imagine three people sitting on one of these facing three people directly accross from you. It’s cozy. And uncomfortable. Now imagine doing this for 15 hours. Getting up and walking around is perilous, too as someone who is only holding a standing ticket might snatch up your empty seat, and you’ll be left to stand. Not the ideal way to travel, certainly.

Our group on the way home from Xi'an: Very happy to have sleeper beds.

This was how the journey to Xi’an went. And yet, I’m actually kind of glad it did. By taking the hard seats to Xi’an, we experienced something completely authentic– the way that most Chinese people travel. We met several Chinese people (including a student heading home for break, who taught us to play the Chinese version of “go fish”), and learned a little something about life in China. Also, it made riding in a sleeper car on the way back seem like a breeze.

The City: Xi’an

The Drum tower at night: The Hub of Xi'an.

When I was applying to Aston, Xi’an was one of my top choices for placement. Unfortunately, they filled all slots for foreign teachers there before all of my contractual matters were settled. So, I ended up in Ji’nan. Seeing Xi’an was certainly a priority. So, after visiting, how do I feel about the place? I like it. Xi’an’s a really fun city, and it’s full of really cool things to see and experience: Old buildings, museums, night markets, street food,  good restaurants, etc. All of these things make Xi’an a really great place to visit. 

Good eats in Xian's Muslim Quarter

Spicy kebabs... these are both good AND cheap.

There was always something to explore in Xi’an, whether it was a notable attraction like the Big Goose Pagoda (where there were massive fireworks displays on China’s National Day) or the terracotta warriors, or the lesser known surprises like the city’s mosque (the oldest in China, and a really great and pretty place to visit). It was a lot of fun to stroll through the city’s Muslim Quarter (where all of the good food stands are) and sample local food (particularly good were the pan-fried dumplings that we saw for sale everywhere… also, another Xi’an favorite is almost like the Chinese version of a quesodilla… fillings of ground meat and greens tuffed between two thin pieces of bread and then griddle fried until the outside is crispy) or going out sightseeing. One evening, as sunset drew near, we all rented bikes and rode them around on top of the old city walls. 

The Big Goose Pagoda, one of Xi'an's major attractions

The Great Mosque in Xi'an, one of the most underrated sites in the city.

However, living in Xi’an must feel strange. I suppose it would depend on how close I lived to the city’s major attractions, and how often I went into the old city, but I think the whole experience might seem surreal. I’ve never lived in a major tourist destination. I can’t fathom what it would feel like. Xi’an had many more westerners than Ji’nan does. There seemed to be a near constant flow of tour groups through the city. I don’t know what it would be like to live in the midst of all of that. By contrast, life in Ji’nan feels much more ordinary, and much more low key. If Xi’an is a good place to take a vacation, then Ji’nan is simply just a good place to live. In the end, when our sleeper train rolled into Ji’nan at the end of 16 hours, I was glad to be home.

Life has returned to its regular rhythm here in Ji’nan. I’ll post something about that later on.

Atop the city's ancient walls: Xi'an, old and new.

The main excavation site of the terracotta army. There are supposedly 1,500 of these guys that have been unearthed, and a suspected 6,500 which remain buried.

So here they are, the legendary Terracotta Warriors of Xi’an. They’re pretty amazing… which is why they merit their own blog entry. A little background: China’s first emporer was so paranoid about death (and being attacked in the afterlife) that he constructed a hugely elaborate tomb to protect his kingdom in the afterlife (one historian write of rivers of mercury and cities of jewels being sealed within the tomb). The terracotta warriors (which number 8,000 in total– perfectly mirroring the emporer’s real-life army) are essentially the emporer’s bodygaurd. They’re around so that, if he should be attacked by rebel states trying to destroy his kingdom in the afterlife, he’ll be able to fight back. Oddly enough, the site was attacked by rival factions a few generations after his death, as his dynasty was crumbling, and being uprooted by his foes, the Han who eventually took control of China. The reason many of these statues are headless? Well, that’s because the armies of the enemy took them… plain and simple. Anyhow, what’s left behind of the tomb is unopened– superstition prevents it. We do know that the rumors about its elaborate nature are at least in part true (an unusually high amount of mercury has been found in the soil around the site of the tomb). The warriors themselves  were only unearthed by accident in 1974 when farmers wer digging a well and happened upon them. Now, of course, they’re one of the world’s great historical sites. Here are some of my pictures. Hope that y’all enjoy.

The bronze funeral chariots of China's first Emporer Qin Shi Huang. A terracotta archer, one of the many types of soldier buried near the emporer. This one was removed from the pit and put in a case.