Shanghai, China
I realise I've started taking net bars for granted. I've come to expect them everywhere and all the time. To give it a more mystical note: they just are. But seriously, most neighbourhoods have at least one; many are open 24 hours or at least until very late. Some people practically live there. After arriving in Shanghai today this habit almost exploded in my face.
I have the good fortune to have a friend in this expensive city, a Chinese girl (yes, another) who I know from my university days in UK. And since net bars are everywhere I had never bothered to write down her phone number nor her address. Get to Shanghai, go online, check your gmail account for the number - that was the plan.
Only when I got to a net bar outside Shanghai North train station they all shook their heads. "You can't go online here." I gave them a funny look. "Is this a net bar?" "Yes." "So, I can use your computers here?" "There's no Internet." I was very close to asking the guy if the Internet was closed today. In the end I gave up and left. There were a few words I couldn't understand. Maybe they were having technical troubles. But hey, there's always the next net bar.
Strangely, the answer was the same. "You cannot go online today." I got a bit impatient. "Do you mean to say that all of Shanghai has not connection today?" "All of China cannot go online." Something in my head refused to understand. "It's because of the earthquake", somebody outside told me. Now that one I know. I was in the damn quake. But that was about two weeks ago and several thousand kilometers away! I went up again to try one more time. It was true, both net bars were surprisingly empty. I could count the customers on one hand. Still, there were some. "How about them", I asked a girl that worked there. "They are not online." I pointed out I had seen Internet Explorer open but she insisted that they were not online at all. In the end, I changed my strategy. I just wanted to use a computer, I told her. It didn't matter if I couldn't go online. To this she finally agreed and I got my token and password. You could go online, of course. But seeing the same background picture on all screens - black with a few lit candles - I began to understand. I've had the bad luck of arriving here during the three-day national mourning period for the victims of the earth quake (the death toll is still rising - we're in the four figures). My friend confirmed this later. During this time the government discouraged or prohibited the use of net bars.
At least I managed to negotiate my five minutes net time and met Charmaine. Otherwise, this might have been a very complicated three days.
Thursday, 22 May 2008
Saturday, 17 May 2008
The Sensitive Side
Wuhan, China
This is about another French guy, another fellow traveller who was my roommate at the hostel in Wuhan. Compared to his macho-countryman in Xi'an, however, he was very different.
We met in the morning when getting up and decided to hang out and explore the city together. We went for spicy noodles - a specialty since Wuhan is the capital of Hubei Province, which is known in all of China for its exceedingly hot and spicy food. Suffice to say breakfast was fiery. We spent the day walking around the city, around the lakes where the university is, through the old town to the river. We talked about many things and, watching lovers by the lake, I was surprised that we could also talk about matters of the heart, relationships and love - topics that I've always shied from discussing with other men because there is always the pressure of seeming cool or "manly". Relationships and especially feelings aren't things that men talk about - by convention. But with him it was different. We saw couples by the lake and remarked on how travelling can be lonely sometimes. He asked me if I had had any relationships while travelling. He had heard other travellers talk about it but he had had no luck. I told him about my feelings, of how I missed Vero, of how I was unsure of how to go on. The topic came naturally and I felt comfortable opening a bit - even though (or maybe because) he was a stranger I hadn't known before this morning. I felt that from him I didn't need to fear judgement or ridicule. It was a relief to speak that freely.
Late at night we were still sitting on the bank of the mighty Yangzi River having a beer and he told me his sad tale - of his girlfriend in France, who he had told not to wait for him because he'd be away for 6 months and how heart-broken he had been when he had read her email saying she had, in fact, not waited for him and was seeing another man.
In the end, I never did get his details but in a way I would still like to tell him thank you. I wish there were more guys like him around.
This is about another French guy, another fellow traveller who was my roommate at the hostel in Wuhan. Compared to his macho-countryman in Xi'an, however, he was very different.
We met in the morning when getting up and decided to hang out and explore the city together. We went for spicy noodles - a specialty since Wuhan is the capital of Hubei Province, which is known in all of China for its exceedingly hot and spicy food. Suffice to say breakfast was fiery. We spent the day walking around the city, around the lakes where the university is, through the old town to the river. We talked about many things and, watching lovers by the lake, I was surprised that we could also talk about matters of the heart, relationships and love - topics that I've always shied from discussing with other men because there is always the pressure of seeming cool or "manly". Relationships and especially feelings aren't things that men talk about - by convention. But with him it was different. We saw couples by the lake and remarked on how travelling can be lonely sometimes. He asked me if I had had any relationships while travelling. He had heard other travellers talk about it but he had had no luck. I told him about my feelings, of how I missed Vero, of how I was unsure of how to go on. The topic came naturally and I felt comfortable opening a bit - even though (or maybe because) he was a stranger I hadn't known before this morning. I felt that from him I didn't need to fear judgement or ridicule. It was a relief to speak that freely.
Late at night we were still sitting on the bank of the mighty Yangzi River having a beer and he told me his sad tale - of his girlfriend in France, who he had told not to wait for him because he'd be away for 6 months and how heart-broken he had been when he had read her email saying she had, in fact, not waited for him and was seeing another man.
In the end, I never did get his details but in a way I would still like to tell him thank you. I wish there were more guys like him around.
Halls of the Dead
Yangzi River, China
The first day was all about the dead. Even before we entered the first of the Gorges we stopped at what was announced as the "City of Ghosts". What was this? The Lonely Planet didn't have the answer. I had to trust the guides. It was to be a large Taoist temple complex dedicated to the god of the underworld. That sounded cool. Besides, who wouldn't like to be able to say: "I've been to the City of Ghosts"?
I was a bit disappointed with the guided tour. My Chinese vocabulary is still quite limited when it comes to culture and religion. The tour guide just went through her regular routine - in machine-gun-Mandarin. It seemed to be more of a nuissance to her having a foreigner in her group. When she was giving out the tickets outside the entrance she called all Chinese tourists by name. When I told her my Chinese name (under which I was registered) she didn't even listen, just said to her colleague: "Give the foreigner his ticket." Had I heard that right? It may be a small thing but it upset me. So much that I wanted tell people about it but my phone had run out of credit.
The attraction itself was a mixed experience. Ways up to the temple buildings were lined with bizarre, otherworldly guardians of the dead. I loved taking pictures of them and would have loved even more to be able to ask someone about them. The temples themselves, however, were far from spectacular. Workers were rude and much of the grounds had been converted into a cheap underworld freak show made up from (now broken and decayed) paper mache stand-ups. There was even a ghost ride but that was just too cheesy. How much had I paid for this again - 80 RMB??
The next excursion was late that night and, sadly, quite a waste of time. This was to be the Temple of Zhang Fei, ally and oath brother of Liu Bei during the period of the Three Kingdoms. After his assasination his body was buried here while his head rests somewhere in Sichuan Province. A common thing in those days apparently to bury head and body seperately. This was also where I first met Jacques.
We arrived so late that it was already pitch black outside. Photos were difficult because of the lighting, some of the temple was already closed and it was not really a historic building either. Aside from a pretty sculpture of the "oath in the peach garden" and a few lessons on Three Kingdoms history there was not much to gain from this place; after half an hour we were out again.
The way that led up to the temple was lined with souvenir sellers. That wasn't so surprising. They would offer you anything from rusty confiscated Japanese swords to plastic toys for kids. What I found interesting was that a lot of sellers here offered volumes of erotic pictures, Chinese centerfolds. I can't remember seeing them for sale anywhere else and certainly not this openly and in such numbers. They didn't even looks like the kind of smut you'd expect to be sold under the counter. Something like you'd expect to see in the Playboy magazine, I guess. It was interesting to observe how other tourists would discretely peek at them. Few would probably admit to picking one up, so I won't either.
Afterwards me and Jacques still spent another hour eating some food bought at the landing, drinking a beer and getting to know each other. I knew I was going to regret this - the next day would start very early.
The first day was all about the dead. Even before we entered the first of the Gorges we stopped at what was announced as the "City of Ghosts". What was this? The Lonely Planet didn't have the answer. I had to trust the guides. It was to be a large Taoist temple complex dedicated to the god of the underworld. That sounded cool. Besides, who wouldn't like to be able to say: "I've been to the City of Ghosts"?
I was a bit disappointed with the guided tour. My Chinese vocabulary is still quite limited when it comes to culture and religion. The tour guide just went through her regular routine - in machine-gun-Mandarin. It seemed to be more of a nuissance to her having a foreigner in her group. When she was giving out the tickets outside the entrance she called all Chinese tourists by name. When I told her my Chinese name (under which I was registered) she didn't even listen, just said to her colleague: "Give the foreigner his ticket." Had I heard that right? It may be a small thing but it upset me. So much that I wanted tell people about it but my phone had run out of credit.
The attraction itself was a mixed experience. Ways up to the temple buildings were lined with bizarre, otherworldly guardians of the dead. I loved taking pictures of them and would have loved even more to be able to ask someone about them. The temples themselves, however, were far from spectacular. Workers were rude and much of the grounds had been converted into a cheap underworld freak show made up from (now broken and decayed) paper mache stand-ups. There was even a ghost ride but that was just too cheesy. How much had I paid for this again - 80 RMB??
The next excursion was late that night and, sadly, quite a waste of time. This was to be the Temple of Zhang Fei, ally and oath brother of Liu Bei during the period of the Three Kingdoms. After his assasination his body was buried here while his head rests somewhere in Sichuan Province. A common thing in those days apparently to bury head and body seperately. This was also where I first met Jacques.
We arrived so late that it was already pitch black outside. Photos were difficult because of the lighting, some of the temple was already closed and it was not really a historic building either. Aside from a pretty sculpture of the "oath in the peach garden" and a few lessons on Three Kingdoms history there was not much to gain from this place; after half an hour we were out again.
The way that led up to the temple was lined with souvenir sellers. That wasn't so surprising. They would offer you anything from rusty confiscated Japanese swords to plastic toys for kids. What I found interesting was that a lot of sellers here offered volumes of erotic pictures, Chinese centerfolds. I can't remember seeing them for sale anywhere else and certainly not this openly and in such numbers. They didn't even looks like the kind of smut you'd expect to be sold under the counter. Something like you'd expect to see in the Playboy magazine, I guess. It was interesting to observe how other tourists would discretely peek at them. Few would probably admit to picking one up, so I won't either.
Afterwards me and Jacques still spent another hour eating some food bought at the landing, drinking a beer and getting to know each other. I knew I was going to regret this - the next day would start very early.
Friday, 16 May 2008
Cruising the Great River
Yangzi River, Chongqing to Yichang, China
By many standards this is a must-do while in China - cruising the mighty Yangzi River (known here as the Long River - 长江). Downstream from Chongqing all the way to Yichang the river cuts through mountains forming a series of deep canyons, the Three Gorges. The river also forms the southern border of the territory the Han civilisation originates from. The cruise was high priority on my list of things to do. I had actually already booked it at the hostel in Xi'an for fear of not getting tickets (a worry that I keep having). The meeting point here (a hostel by the river) was not easy to find in the maze of alleys. Then, of course, there was the fright and big excitement of the earthquake. When things quieted down a bit I was led on board.
Now, this was a Chinese tour, supposedly less expensive than pure Western-organised ones. It actually turned out quickly that I was one of only three Westerners on board. This was a pleasant surprise; after Xi'an being full of backpackers I do enjoy such a purely Chinese environment. The other two were a young French man and a middle-aged American man. They didn't speak any Chinese at all, so in the days that followed it became common for the ship's attendants to call on me to translate. An interesting job - and of course a big boost for my ego.
Jacques, from Paris, turned out to be a very pleasant, quiet guy, who was easy to talk to. We ended up meeting for a chat and hanging around the ship during the day and having a beer or two before bed time in the evening. He used to be an accountant in Paris and had given himself a year and a half off. He'd been traveling a lot. Actually he had come all the way from Turkey to China on land. Obviously, he had a lot of interesting stories to tell - all without being pretentious at all.
The American guy - I never bothered to remember his name - turned out to be quite the opposite and faithful to the cliche. He'd been traveling extensively, he'd seen it all, done it all, knew it all. I was called to help his room mates communicate with him. He wanted to know some "good Chinese musicians". I translated, chatted politely. He had been to many countries, talked about some as if he had personally discovered them. Mongolian throat-singing? Yes, he knew that. In fact, he had "some excellent throat-singing right here" on his mp3 player. He reminded me of people that frequent the most expensive restaurants in town and then argue why the must be the best (because of the price). It actually made me wonder what else he did except traveling. In the end, I lost interest in his exploits and just translated.
In my free time, of which there was still a lot, I stayed on deck or went to the games room where many Chinese passengers played cards or Mah Jongg. This actually required an extra fee for the top decks and the games room, which I grudgingly paid. But I had watched people play and was eager to try it for myself. I quickly found out, however, that noone was willing to let a rookie foreigner join their game. So I watched and chatted with the pretty attendant girls. At least, one of them took some time to explain some rules and even play with me when there were no other customers. Eventually, I would just get kicked off the tables, though. It even almost got ugly once because a few other players just came up and just started shuffling the pieces I was still using. Only later I was told they had in fact booked the table - none of them actually mentioned it. Well, no use complaining, I wanted to be treated like a local. I guess, this kind of rudeness is what my Chinese friends used to complain about.
The rest of the time was filled with excursions. These were not included in the price and turned out quite expensive - plus, I was told to book and pay for them in advance. There were also quite a lot and the Lonely Planet for once had fairly little opinion to give on them. In good faith I signed up for those that sounded like culture. I had been reading the epic historic novel Three Kingdoms and some of it is set here along the river. That had me quite excited. The sights were to be sorely disappointing, though. So let this be a warning to those that will come after me.
As I wave Chongqing's night lights goodbye follow me through along the mighty Yangzi and through the Three Gorges.
By many standards this is a must-do while in China - cruising the mighty Yangzi River (known here as the Long River - 长江). Downstream from Chongqing all the way to Yichang the river cuts through mountains forming a series of deep canyons, the Three Gorges. The river also forms the southern border of the territory the Han civilisation originates from. The cruise was high priority on my list of things to do. I had actually already booked it at the hostel in Xi'an for fear of not getting tickets (a worry that I keep having). The meeting point here (a hostel by the river) was not easy to find in the maze of alleys. Then, of course, there was the fright and big excitement of the earthquake. When things quieted down a bit I was led on board.
Now, this was a Chinese tour, supposedly less expensive than pure Western-organised ones. It actually turned out quickly that I was one of only three Westerners on board. This was a pleasant surprise; after Xi'an being full of backpackers I do enjoy such a purely Chinese environment. The other two were a young French man and a middle-aged American man. They didn't speak any Chinese at all, so in the days that followed it became common for the ship's attendants to call on me to translate. An interesting job - and of course a big boost for my ego.
Jacques, from Paris, turned out to be a very pleasant, quiet guy, who was easy to talk to. We ended up meeting for a chat and hanging around the ship during the day and having a beer or two before bed time in the evening. He used to be an accountant in Paris and had given himself a year and a half off. He'd been traveling a lot. Actually he had come all the way from Turkey to China on land. Obviously, he had a lot of interesting stories to tell - all without being pretentious at all.
The American guy - I never bothered to remember his name - turned out to be quite the opposite and faithful to the cliche. He'd been traveling extensively, he'd seen it all, done it all, knew it all. I was called to help his room mates communicate with him. He wanted to know some "good Chinese musicians". I translated, chatted politely. He had been to many countries, talked about some as if he had personally discovered them. Mongolian throat-singing? Yes, he knew that. In fact, he had "some excellent throat-singing right here" on his mp3 player. He reminded me of people that frequent the most expensive restaurants in town and then argue why the must be the best (because of the price). It actually made me wonder what else he did except traveling. In the end, I lost interest in his exploits and just translated.
In my free time, of which there was still a lot, I stayed on deck or went to the games room where many Chinese passengers played cards or Mah Jongg. This actually required an extra fee for the top decks and the games room, which I grudgingly paid. But I had watched people play and was eager to try it for myself. I quickly found out, however, that noone was willing to let a rookie foreigner join their game. So I watched and chatted with the pretty attendant girls. At least, one of them took some time to explain some rules and even play with me when there were no other customers. Eventually, I would just get kicked off the tables, though. It even almost got ugly once because a few other players just came up and just started shuffling the pieces I was still using. Only later I was told they had in fact booked the table - none of them actually mentioned it. Well, no use complaining, I wanted to be treated like a local. I guess, this kind of rudeness is what my Chinese friends used to complain about.
The rest of the time was filled with excursions. These were not included in the price and turned out quite expensive - plus, I was told to book and pay for them in advance. There were also quite a lot and the Lonely Planet for once had fairly little opinion to give on them. In good faith I signed up for those that sounded like culture. I had been reading the epic historic novel Three Kingdoms and some of it is set here along the river. That had me quite excited. The sights were to be sorely disappointing, though. So let this be a warning to those that will come after me.
As I wave Chongqing's night lights goodbye follow me through along the mighty Yangzi and through the Three Gorges.
Monday, 12 May 2008
The Day the Earth Trembled
Chongqing, China
I believe I have to thank God for this. And when I say this it's more than just a few idiomatic words. If I hadn't changed my mind at the last minute I would be in Chengdu now and there's no telling what might have happened...
The ground shook. Gently at first, then stronger. Earthquake. The hostel building I was in is built on wooden stilts. It quivered. Nobody here had seen or felt this before. People ran into the street in fright. A flood of others came running down the steep alleyways. Staff shouted at me to get out an run. I don't think anybody knew where they were running. I'm also not sure why I wasn't frightened. In fact, I've rarely been so calm. I looked back at them and quietly wondered why they were so scared. The only thing I felt was excitement: this was my first real earthquake. Maybe I instinctively knew that this was weak, that there was no real danger to us. I even sent a friend a text message saying: "Wow, cool, there was just a small earthquake here."
A little later, reports started coming in from Sichuan Province, the place where I had intended to go. On my ship down the Yangzi we also saw the first TV images. Numbers were coming in and rising fast. Tens of thousands dead or missing. In Germany that's entire towns. It wasn't cool anymore. I now feel embarrassed for that text message. May God help these people.
I believe I have to thank God for this. And when I say this it's more than just a few idiomatic words. If I hadn't changed my mind at the last minute I would be in Chengdu now and there's no telling what might have happened...
The ground shook. Gently at first, then stronger. Earthquake. The hostel building I was in is built on wooden stilts. It quivered. Nobody here had seen or felt this before. People ran into the street in fright. A flood of others came running down the steep alleyways. Staff shouted at me to get out an run. I don't think anybody knew where they were running. I'm also not sure why I wasn't frightened. In fact, I've rarely been so calm. I looked back at them and quietly wondered why they were so scared. The only thing I felt was excitement: this was my first real earthquake. Maybe I instinctively knew that this was weak, that there was no real danger to us. I even sent a friend a text message saying: "Wow, cool, there was just a small earthquake here."
A little later, reports started coming in from Sichuan Province, the place where I had intended to go. On my ship down the Yangzi we also saw the first TV images. Numbers were coming in and rising fast. Tens of thousands dead or missing. In Germany that's entire towns. It wasn't cool anymore. I now feel embarrassed for that text message. May God help these people.
Triple Hot
Chongqing, China
A lot of things are hot about this city.
The weather to start with. The sun has been beating down even despite the haze.
What makes it hotter still are the girls. Chinese people say girls from Chongqing are the most beautiful in all of China. In Chinese they are nicknamed 辣妹子 literally meaning "spicy girl". Their beauty, so people say, comes from the humid air around here or the spicy food, either of which is supposed to be good for your skin (which one it is depends on who you ask). Whatever the reason, girls here are gorgeous. Especially their legs. It's nice walking through the city watching girls showing them off. They get them from all the stairs that lead up and down the hills the city is built on (porters are in high demand here). Anyone that walks those on a daily basis must be toned. And they walk as if their reputation gives them confidence or maybe it's rather the other way around.
Oh, did I mention spicy food that makes you sweat? Hell yeah, I sweat! That's the other thing about Chongqing: the city (with the neighbouring Sichuan Province) is home to some of the spiciest food in China. Specialties (名菜) include 水煮鱼 (fish boiled in chilli broth) and 火锅 (a kind of hot pot or fondue). A local girl I met took me to one of her favourite hot pot restaurants. It was a popular place packed with people of all ages. We were lucky to find a table. Even though this time I already knew what was coming I still marvelled at how much chilli (and the small, mean 花椒) you can put into a single pot. I ate bravely - and I did enjoy it - but I did also consume large amounts of water and soya milk in the process. Don't laugh - you try it!
A lot of things are hot about this city.
The weather to start with. The sun has been beating down even despite the haze.
What makes it hotter still are the girls. Chinese people say girls from Chongqing are the most beautiful in all of China. In Chinese they are nicknamed 辣妹子 literally meaning "spicy girl". Their beauty, so people say, comes from the humid air around here or the spicy food, either of which is supposed to be good for your skin (which one it is depends on who you ask). Whatever the reason, girls here are gorgeous. Especially their legs. It's nice walking through the city watching girls showing them off. They get them from all the stairs that lead up and down the hills the city is built on (porters are in high demand here). Anyone that walks those on a daily basis must be toned. And they walk as if their reputation gives them confidence or maybe it's rather the other way around.
Oh, did I mention spicy food that makes you sweat? Hell yeah, I sweat! That's the other thing about Chongqing: the city (with the neighbouring Sichuan Province) is home to some of the spiciest food in China. Specialties (名菜) include 水煮鱼 (fish boiled in chilli broth) and 火锅 (a kind of hot pot or fondue). A local girl I met took me to one of her favourite hot pot restaurants. It was a popular place packed with people of all ages. We were lucky to find a table. Even though this time I already knew what was coming I still marvelled at how much chilli (and the small, mean 花椒) you can put into a single pot. I ate bravely - and I did enjoy it - but I did also consume large amounts of water and soya milk in the process. Don't laugh - you try it!
Thursday, 8 May 2008
Wet, Wet, Wet
Mount Hua, near Xi'an, China
The first time was going up. The heat was sweltering. Maybe that was an omen, an indication what was to come. I met a friendly Australian and another French guy. Had they checked the weather forecast? I had forgotten. So had they. The clouds were thick and didn't bode well.
Trying to be optimistic we started the ascent. We sweated a lot. I actually used up most of my water on the first half of this stage. We pitied the workers who had to carry supplies up the mountain to the hotels and shops. Some of them had badly bent or hunched backs. They probably do this every single day.
We continued on until after dark. By the time we reached the first guesthouse my shirt was only a wet rag. Tired I still managed to haggle the price down by a third. Then we heard the news: the forecast said rain for the next day. Now having lived in England and Wales I was prepared to take this with a pinch of salt. I'm used to it raining at any time without much warning - the world has climate, England has weather.
But here, in the heart of China, it turns out that forecasts are quite reliable. When we woke up before dawn it was raining steadily. Crap! I hadn't brought anything remotely weather-proof. Don't bother climbing the peak now, the hotel staff told us, you won't see a sunrise today. Early risers or late climbers were already coming down from the peak, drenched and discouraged. Among them was another French guy. Damn, half of France was out here! He told us how slippery it was. We gave up our plan and went back to bed.
Later that morning the other two decided to join the second French guy on the way down. They would not climb the peak. Not me. I wasn't going to give up now - weather against me or whatever. So, I bade them farewell, bought a crappy, completely overpriced rain poncho and set off on stage two. The poncho didn't do much good. If the rain didn't get in I started sweating under the cheap rubber. The outcome was roughly similar. The climb wasn't easy - at times I was really worried I'd just slip clean off the wet rock face and into uncertain depths. Technically, there were not even many views to be seen. Still, the mountain shrouded in clouds as it was had something mysterious about it. After all, this is one of the holy Taoist mountains. Rain and fog normally indicate the presence of a dragon. And up here with the mists drifting in and out of view between the peaks and trees I was prepared to believe it. Besides, the peak is my highest one yet: 2135 meters. I'm happy that I didn't miss that chance.
The first time was going up. The heat was sweltering. Maybe that was an omen, an indication what was to come. I met a friendly Australian and another French guy. Had they checked the weather forecast? I had forgotten. So had they. The clouds were thick and didn't bode well.
Trying to be optimistic we started the ascent. We sweated a lot. I actually used up most of my water on the first half of this stage. We pitied the workers who had to carry supplies up the mountain to the hotels and shops. Some of them had badly bent or hunched backs. They probably do this every single day.
We continued on until after dark. By the time we reached the first guesthouse my shirt was only a wet rag. Tired I still managed to haggle the price down by a third. Then we heard the news: the forecast said rain for the next day. Now having lived in England and Wales I was prepared to take this with a pinch of salt. I'm used to it raining at any time without much warning - the world has climate, England has weather.
But here, in the heart of China, it turns out that forecasts are quite reliable. When we woke up before dawn it was raining steadily. Crap! I hadn't brought anything remotely weather-proof. Don't bother climbing the peak now, the hotel staff told us, you won't see a sunrise today. Early risers or late climbers were already coming down from the peak, drenched and discouraged. Among them was another French guy. Damn, half of France was out here! He told us how slippery it was. We gave up our plan and went back to bed.
Later that morning the other two decided to join the second French guy on the way down. They would not climb the peak. Not me. I wasn't going to give up now - weather against me or whatever. So, I bade them farewell, bought a crappy, completely overpriced rain poncho and set off on stage two. The poncho didn't do much good. If the rain didn't get in I started sweating under the cheap rubber. The outcome was roughly similar. The climb wasn't easy - at times I was really worried I'd just slip clean off the wet rock face and into uncertain depths. Technically, there were not even many views to be seen. Still, the mountain shrouded in clouds as it was had something mysterious about it. After all, this is one of the holy Taoist mountains. Rain and fog normally indicate the presence of a dragon. And up here with the mists drifting in and out of view between the peaks and trees I was prepared to believe it. Besides, the peak is my highest one yet: 2135 meters. I'm happy that I didn't miss that chance.
Tuesday, 6 May 2008
Free of Charge??
Xi'an, China
This may seem trivial but I just have to write about it. Today I went to the Shaanxi Provincial Museum and entry was free. Chargeless. Gratuitous. On the house. No money.
To follow my amazement you have to understand that in China you don't even get near a remotely interesting place, palace, temple or museum, mountain or waterfall without paying for it. A (Chinese!) friend of mine once said that his country men and women are so good at doing business. If they have, say, a historic temple in their town the first thing they'd do these days would be to pull up a fence around it and collect money for tickets. So, imagine my surprise when I walked up to the ticket office at the Shaanxi Museum, asked how much a ticket was and got the answer: “不要钱。今天免费。” ("You don't need money. Today is free.")
Obviously, the exhibition halls were bustling with people. But I was happy. I think it's a great idea. The one thing that I've always liked about London was that despite the high cost of everything else the museums, at least, were always free of charge. As a tourist, especially as a foreigner, you seldom get 100% value out of a trip to a local museum. You have little time and just want to get an overview of history or culture. Besides, it's surely good education for those people and families here that normally can't afford a trip to the museum. Go Xi'an!
This may seem trivial but I just have to write about it. Today I went to the Shaanxi Provincial Museum and entry was free. Chargeless. Gratuitous. On the house. No money.
To follow my amazement you have to understand that in China you don't even get near a remotely interesting place, palace, temple or museum, mountain or waterfall without paying for it. A (Chinese!) friend of mine once said that his country men and women are so good at doing business. If they have, say, a historic temple in their town the first thing they'd do these days would be to pull up a fence around it and collect money for tickets. So, imagine my surprise when I walked up to the ticket office at the Shaanxi Museum, asked how much a ticket was and got the answer: “不要钱。今天免费。” ("You don't need money. Today is free.")
Obviously, the exhibition halls were bustling with people. But I was happy. I think it's a great idea. The one thing that I've always liked about London was that despite the high cost of everything else the museums, at least, were always free of charge. As a tourist, especially as a foreigner, you seldom get 100% value out of a trip to a local museum. You have little time and just want to get an overview of history or culture. Besides, it's surely good education for those people and families here that normally can't afford a trip to the museum. Go Xi'an!
The Dodgy Frenchman
Xi'an, China
This has been one of the strangest encounters on my trip so far. As I look for a place to have dinner another foreigner walks past me in the street. I think nothing of it - Westerners are a fairly common sight here. With his casual dress, sleeveless shirt and slightly unkept look he fits the bill of your average backpacker. Suddenly he's next to me again. "Hey, you're a foreigner." Yees...? "Where are you from?" His accent is thick and French. For some reason I'm intrigued. It turns out he is from France, lives in Xi'an, has a little job here. He just came out of the netbar, seems to spend a lot of time there. He points it out. That is the best netbar in Xi'an. We even decide to have some food and a beer together. On the way, he makes it a point to stare at all dressed up the girls that pass us. One of them promptly chats him up. This sets the theme. "In China I fuck a lot", he declares. Then with with a grin: "But then again in France I fuck a lot, too. I'm French." So, he's a cliche. We go to the same place that the tour guide took me the day before. He tells me about the girl he used to date. "She make me so shit", he repeats. They broke up. Now he misses her, wants to call her. "Maybe I'm too romantic." Oh dear, he's schizophrenic, too. The funny thing is: on one side I find him too cocky, too aggressive, too simple-minded, on the other hand we have quite a good time. In the end I find myself exchanging phone numbers with him to meet up when I come back from Mount Hua. I also get his email address for MSN. Again he's very in the face: "Will you reply to me when I talk to you? Sometimes people get my email and when I talk to them they don't reply. This make me shit." Now I almost feel threatened. I reassure him that most of the time I reply. In parting I really wonder - the guy is simple-minded, rude, in your face and all sorts of other unpleasant qualities. Under normal circumstances I'd say such a guy is an idiot, an asshole or both. And still I find myself drawn to him. Is that how his girls feel?
This has been one of the strangest encounters on my trip so far. As I look for a place to have dinner another foreigner walks past me in the street. I think nothing of it - Westerners are a fairly common sight here. With his casual dress, sleeveless shirt and slightly unkept look he fits the bill of your average backpacker. Suddenly he's next to me again. "Hey, you're a foreigner." Yees...? "Where are you from?" His accent is thick and French. For some reason I'm intrigued. It turns out he is from France, lives in Xi'an, has a little job here. He just came out of the netbar, seems to spend a lot of time there. He points it out. That is the best netbar in Xi'an. We even decide to have some food and a beer together. On the way, he makes it a point to stare at all dressed up the girls that pass us. One of them promptly chats him up. This sets the theme. "In China I fuck a lot", he declares. Then with with a grin: "But then again in France I fuck a lot, too. I'm French." So, he's a cliche. We go to the same place that the tour guide took me the day before. He tells me about the girl he used to date. "She make me so shit", he repeats. They broke up. Now he misses her, wants to call her. "Maybe I'm too romantic." Oh dear, he's schizophrenic, too. The funny thing is: on one side I find him too cocky, too aggressive, too simple-minded, on the other hand we have quite a good time. In the end I find myself exchanging phone numbers with him to meet up when I come back from Mount Hua. I also get his email address for MSN. Again he's very in the face: "Will you reply to me when I talk to you? Sometimes people get my email and when I talk to them they don't reply. This make me shit." Now I almost feel threatened. I reassure him that most of the time I reply. In parting I really wonder - the guy is simple-minded, rude, in your face and all sorts of other unpleasant qualities. Under normal circumstances I'd say such a guy is an idiot, an asshole or both. And still I find myself drawn to him. Is that how his girls feel?
Monday, 5 May 2008
Conflict Resolution in the City of Kings
Xi'an, China
Experience in Xi'an was mixed. It turned out to be a bit like other ancient walled cities I had visited, just much bigger. Walking the city walls illustrated this: You could stand on one corner turret and the wall would just extend in a straight line in both directions, stretching into the distance, eventually disappearing into the city's haze. And I read the city's size was even reduced when the imperial government moved away. With battlements as wide as a two-lane carriage way it's definitely the mightiest fortification I've ever stood on.
Of course, as impressive as this is I wasn't here just to see the city walls. The main attraction lies under ground - the terra-cotta army of China's first emperor 秦始皇 (Qin Shi Huang). Since there are many sights scattered around the countryside I decided to book a tour at the hostel. The price was a bit steep, a juicy 320 RMB, and I don't normally like to be herded around in a tour group. But it also promised not only the terra-cotta warriors but also the tomb of Qin Shi Huang, a neolithic dig site and hot springs. And all this with the convenience of your own minibus and an English-speaking tour guide. How could I resist?
The guide, a girl in her early twenties, was fairly new on the job, I could see that. Even while we were just departing Xi'an she was already anxiously looking for something to say lest people get bored. Another Chinese woman in the back of the car, apparently her superior, must have been watching her and she was accutely aware of that. She started talking about the city walls, then told us about her native dialect, which wasn't Mandarin, and even sang a local folk song. She tried to get people to participate by asking questions and seemed exasperated when she didn't get any response. She looked friendly, just very nervous, so I tried to chat with her in Chinese. I told her not to worry and take a rest.
When we got to the first attraction, the Neolithic Village, I already realised why I hated tours. We were a bit behind schedule, so there was hardly time to look around before we were shooed back onto the bus.
The next stop was the "Underground Palace". This confused me because I hadn't seen it on the list of destinations. What was this? The Tomb of Qin Shi Huang? No. But yes. It was a reconstruction since the real tomb had never been excavated and couldn't be visited. But weren't we going to visit the real tomb? Yes, later. Oook then... We were quickly walked through a Disney World version of what the real tomb may or may not look like inside, complete with paper mache figures of Qin Shi Huang's concubines and dead workers.
The next stop was also unscheduled: a visit to the terra-cotta warrior factory and exhibition hall. Here, we were led around a facility where, we were told, replica terra-cotta figures were produced in the same way as in ancient times. To prove it some women sat in the front hall apparently working on rough molds. Everything was hand made, we were told. Looking around I saw a production volume that four little ladies could never have handled. They seemed more like actors that started working when a tour group was around. We were also shown kilns that had evidently not been fired in years - there was fresh grass growing inside them. And on top of everything - as if I hadn't expected it - we'd also be able to buy authentic, original, high-quality souvenirs here. Yay. Admittedly, I did have an interesting talk with one of the staff about Chinese mythical creatures. On the whole, however, I don't believe there was much hand-made-ness about the merchendise and we wasted one precious hour of the day.
Then came lunch - already - and I got a good dose of Western tourism. We were going to a restaurant that other foreigners had already liked. Small local places, our guide explained, were no good because they would be crowded and the food wouldn't be as good. My objections were in vain. I had such a bad feeling about this ... We were having a set meal with such classics as sweet and sour pork or mixed fried noodles. Why had I known this? There were no Chinese patrons in sight - only one other table occupied by another tour group of foreigners for that matter. The food was so-so, way too oily and over-priced. Sigh. Now on to greater deeds ... ?
No, first we would pop over to the conveniently adjacent silk factory and sales outlet. This time noone was in the mood for even looking at the silk pillow cases or dressing gowns, no matter what their marvellous qualities were. Would just make me look like Hugh Heffner on vacation anyway. It was already one in the afternoon and we had only visited a single one of the attractions! The place was like a maze and it took another 30 minutes or so to find our way out. Two Dutch guys in the group did the right thing: they had never gone in but sat outside sunbathing.
Now we finally moved on to the main attraction, the Terra-Cotta Army - with only half the scheduled time. It was hard work to take some photos and take it all in.
Then the really interesting times began. As promised we stopped at the real tomb of Qin Shi Huang. Our guide would give us some time for photos if we wanted but kept repeating that the place wasn't interesting. Me and the Dutch guys were curious nonetheless - it was the tallest barrow mound I'd ever seen, the Lonely Planet said it was UNESCO world heritage and looked like a nice walk. We talked to our guide, told her we would like to go in and would she buy us tickets. There was nothing to see, she argued. Well, we were interested. Besides, the poster had said "tickets included". One of the guys had even taken a photo of it. Good man! Her superior answered this: no. We showed her the photo. This had to be discussed with her boss then. I would. I asked her to get him on the line for me. Everyone else was quiet, seemed to wait what would happen. I argued with him - quiet at first trying to be reasonable, then louder, both in English and Chinese. It wasn't just that I wanted to see this attraction. It had also become a matter of principle. The poster had said "Tomb of the First Emperor", not "reconstruction thereof". We wanted tickets. He wasn't cooperating. And I was getting angry. We were just wasting time, the guide told me. She was right. Other people also looked impatient. Fine. I gave up. But I would speak to his manager and I would tell the hostel about this, I told him. Go ahead. He had the nerve to taunt me! Hell yes, I would. Furious I hung up on him.
It was now late in the afternoon and we still hadn't been to the hot springs. As it turned out, noone else had paid for it and they weren't interested either. I was. The senior women in the back was talking to the guide in Chinese. She suggested dropping me off at the hot springs. He can take the public bus back, I heard her say. They were obviously used to dealing with foreigners and being able to talk over their heads. Careful, lady, I understand you. I prepared for another fight. This time I was worrying too much though. The guide assured me she would accompany me and transport home would also be paid for.
So, it was only her and me now. She was being very apologetic. She was very worried that her boss would scold her, maybe even fire her over this. She was still new on the job and customers were unhappy. Why, I asked, we hadn't complained about her services. Well, she was the guide, she was in charge, customers were complaining, so the boss would blame her. He would never acknowledge that he himself might be at fault. I offered that I would make it clear that I had no problem with her, that she had done a good job, that the problem was with the management. She wasn't to be convinced. Couldn't I just forget about it? She seemed increasingly anxious. At the same time I wasn't sure how much of this I could believe. She could have told me anything; when doing business people here do tend to tell stories ("everyone else already bought one"). But the dispute was only about the minor sum of 35 RMB (the price for the ticket to the real tomb), she insisted. In the end, I agreed to drop the issue of the money - if only to reassure her. The problem was only that they couldn't go on telling people they were going to the real tomb when they weren't. I tried to explain to her that many foreigners might be unsatisfied with this. Finally, she seemed to relax a bit. We even agreed to have dinner together and she would take me to a place with Xi'an specialties.
Back at the hostel I finally met her boss in person. I prepared to show my teeth again but there was no need this time. He was also very apologetic, immediately offering to refund me 35 RMB for the ticket to the tomb we didn't visit. Furthermore, they had already begun correcting the wording on the tour poster (by pasting over it) and I gave them the correct English for it: "Underground palace (Reconstructed)".
It's good to see that things can be settled. I don't think our guide did get fired. And we had a nice dinner together with some very tasty snacks.
All's well that ends well, I guess.
Experience in Xi'an was mixed. It turned out to be a bit like other ancient walled cities I had visited, just much bigger. Walking the city walls illustrated this: You could stand on one corner turret and the wall would just extend in a straight line in both directions, stretching into the distance, eventually disappearing into the city's haze. And I read the city's size was even reduced when the imperial government moved away. With battlements as wide as a two-lane carriage way it's definitely the mightiest fortification I've ever stood on.
Of course, as impressive as this is I wasn't here just to see the city walls. The main attraction lies under ground - the terra-cotta army of China's first emperor 秦始皇 (Qin Shi Huang). Since there are many sights scattered around the countryside I decided to book a tour at the hostel. The price was a bit steep, a juicy 320 RMB, and I don't normally like to be herded around in a tour group. But it also promised not only the terra-cotta warriors but also the tomb of Qin Shi Huang, a neolithic dig site and hot springs. And all this with the convenience of your own minibus and an English-speaking tour guide. How could I resist?
The guide, a girl in her early twenties, was fairly new on the job, I could see that. Even while we were just departing Xi'an she was already anxiously looking for something to say lest people get bored. Another Chinese woman in the back of the car, apparently her superior, must have been watching her and she was accutely aware of that. She started talking about the city walls, then told us about her native dialect, which wasn't Mandarin, and even sang a local folk song. She tried to get people to participate by asking questions and seemed exasperated when she didn't get any response. She looked friendly, just very nervous, so I tried to chat with her in Chinese. I told her not to worry and take a rest.
When we got to the first attraction, the Neolithic Village, I already realised why I hated tours. We were a bit behind schedule, so there was hardly time to look around before we were shooed back onto the bus.
The next stop was the "Underground Palace". This confused me because I hadn't seen it on the list of destinations. What was this? The Tomb of Qin Shi Huang? No. But yes. It was a reconstruction since the real tomb had never been excavated and couldn't be visited. But weren't we going to visit the real tomb? Yes, later. Oook then... We were quickly walked through a Disney World version of what the real tomb may or may not look like inside, complete with paper mache figures of Qin Shi Huang's concubines and dead workers.
The next stop was also unscheduled: a visit to the terra-cotta warrior factory and exhibition hall. Here, we were led around a facility where, we were told, replica terra-cotta figures were produced in the same way as in ancient times. To prove it some women sat in the front hall apparently working on rough molds. Everything was hand made, we were told. Looking around I saw a production volume that four little ladies could never have handled. They seemed more like actors that started working when a tour group was around. We were also shown kilns that had evidently not been fired in years - there was fresh grass growing inside them. And on top of everything - as if I hadn't expected it - we'd also be able to buy authentic, original, high-quality souvenirs here. Yay. Admittedly, I did have an interesting talk with one of the staff about Chinese mythical creatures. On the whole, however, I don't believe there was much hand-made-ness about the merchendise and we wasted one precious hour of the day.
Then came lunch - already - and I got a good dose of Western tourism. We were going to a restaurant that other foreigners had already liked. Small local places, our guide explained, were no good because they would be crowded and the food wouldn't be as good. My objections were in vain. I had such a bad feeling about this ... We were having a set meal with such classics as sweet and sour pork or mixed fried noodles. Why had I known this? There were no Chinese patrons in sight - only one other table occupied by another tour group of foreigners for that matter. The food was so-so, way too oily and over-priced. Sigh. Now on to greater deeds ... ?
No, first we would pop over to the conveniently adjacent silk factory and sales outlet. This time noone was in the mood for even looking at the silk pillow cases or dressing gowns, no matter what their marvellous qualities were. Would just make me look like Hugh Heffner on vacation anyway. It was already one in the afternoon and we had only visited a single one of the attractions! The place was like a maze and it took another 30 minutes or so to find our way out. Two Dutch guys in the group did the right thing: they had never gone in but sat outside sunbathing.
Now we finally moved on to the main attraction, the Terra-Cotta Army - with only half the scheduled time. It was hard work to take some photos and take it all in.
Then the really interesting times began. As promised we stopped at the real tomb of Qin Shi Huang. Our guide would give us some time for photos if we wanted but kept repeating that the place wasn't interesting. Me and the Dutch guys were curious nonetheless - it was the tallest barrow mound I'd ever seen, the Lonely Planet said it was UNESCO world heritage and looked like a nice walk. We talked to our guide, told her we would like to go in and would she buy us tickets. There was nothing to see, she argued. Well, we were interested. Besides, the poster had said "tickets included". One of the guys had even taken a photo of it. Good man! Her superior answered this: no. We showed her the photo. This had to be discussed with her boss then. I would. I asked her to get him on the line for me. Everyone else was quiet, seemed to wait what would happen. I argued with him - quiet at first trying to be reasonable, then louder, both in English and Chinese. It wasn't just that I wanted to see this attraction. It had also become a matter of principle. The poster had said "Tomb of the First Emperor", not "reconstruction thereof". We wanted tickets. He wasn't cooperating. And I was getting angry. We were just wasting time, the guide told me. She was right. Other people also looked impatient. Fine. I gave up. But I would speak to his manager and I would tell the hostel about this, I told him. Go ahead. He had the nerve to taunt me! Hell yes, I would. Furious I hung up on him.
It was now late in the afternoon and we still hadn't been to the hot springs. As it turned out, noone else had paid for it and they weren't interested either. I was. The senior women in the back was talking to the guide in Chinese. She suggested dropping me off at the hot springs. He can take the public bus back, I heard her say. They were obviously used to dealing with foreigners and being able to talk over their heads. Careful, lady, I understand you. I prepared for another fight. This time I was worrying too much though. The guide assured me she would accompany me and transport home would also be paid for.
So, it was only her and me now. She was being very apologetic. She was very worried that her boss would scold her, maybe even fire her over this. She was still new on the job and customers were unhappy. Why, I asked, we hadn't complained about her services. Well, she was the guide, she was in charge, customers were complaining, so the boss would blame her. He would never acknowledge that he himself might be at fault. I offered that I would make it clear that I had no problem with her, that she had done a good job, that the problem was with the management. She wasn't to be convinced. Couldn't I just forget about it? She seemed increasingly anxious. At the same time I wasn't sure how much of this I could believe. She could have told me anything; when doing business people here do tend to tell stories ("everyone else already bought one"). But the dispute was only about the minor sum of 35 RMB (the price for the ticket to the real tomb), she insisted. In the end, I agreed to drop the issue of the money - if only to reassure her. The problem was only that they couldn't go on telling people they were going to the real tomb when they weren't. I tried to explain to her that many foreigners might be unsatisfied with this. Finally, she seemed to relax a bit. We even agreed to have dinner together and she would take me to a place with Xi'an specialties.
Back at the hostel I finally met her boss in person. I prepared to show my teeth again but there was no need this time. He was also very apologetic, immediately offering to refund me 35 RMB for the ticket to the tomb we didn't visit. Furthermore, they had already begun correcting the wording on the tour poster (by pasting over it) and I gave them the correct English for it: "Underground palace (Reconstructed)".
It's good to see that things can be settled. I don't think our guide did get fired. And we had a nice dinner together with some very tasty snacks.
All's well that ends well, I guess.
Friday, 2 May 2008
Of Space Stations and Ghost Towers - but who's scruffy-looking?
Luoyang, China
"Scruffy", the Lonely Planet China described the Old Town of Luoyang. The thing about the Planet is - as an American friend in Kaifeng said - they hate China. I found they've often exaggerated a bit when it comes to touristiness or trouble you might run into. They also seem to have the attitude of: "China used to be good but now it's crap. Fortunately, we went to see it when it was still good." Maybe this is the first time I'd agree with the Planet on the choice of words (or am I just biased by reading the Planet first?). Still, this is how the place has evolved. It may not be the prettiest old town in China but it feels alive and organic. I thought that's the kind of authenticity that the Planet looks for. A mixture of historic buildings and more recent, tiled houses (which the Planet loves to hate. Why? They're also China) dotted with little shops.
Sadly the use of words like "scruffy" makes you want to get out of town as fast as you can, which I think is the wrong thing to do. The guide book does not mention that Luoyang is a much more developed city than Kaifeng. The infrastructure is much better. Also, it has a built up, high rise, modern district that the book completely fails to mention right around Wangcheng Square. This is actually the place that I liked a lot more than the old town. There is a stage between an international city like Beijing and a village and this is it. People come out 'til late at night practicing water calligraphy, dancing or just chatting on the square. It feels so alive walking through it on a hot evening like now.
One unique thing about Luoyang was the buildings but I'm not talking about historical ones. When the business district was built someone must have told the designers: "Go wild, make it modern. We're a modern city so take us to the 21st century." Or they were on some sort of controlled substances or just mad. Or all of the above. The result may be a bit too modern even for a 21st century city - wait at least for another 200 years. I swear, parts of the Public Security Bureau with its mirrored glass facade and saucer-like little spires and antennae on the top looked ready to lift off into space, shoot lasers or transform into God-knows-what. Then near Wangcheng Park I spotted another high rise which looked like a cross between something from Star Wars and the Dark Tower from Lord of the Rings. Now, don't let me be misunderstood - I like it here. It has a distinctive feel. It's just that part of this feel is distinctly Star Trek.
On the other hand it is also here that I've realised how much China is developing the eastern cities but may be neglecting the western ones. Luoyang has a cool TV tower, with a spherical platform like the one in Shanghai but tall and sharp, reminiscent of Ostankino in Moscow. I saw it from far away and decided to have a closer look. Maybe I could go up and enjoy the panorama of the city and the Luo River. When I got there, however, it was abandoned. I was expecting expensive restaurants and some sleek decor and it had certainly been there. But no more. A guard told me there had been a Tibetan Barbecue restaurant. Walking around the base of the tower I could see inside. The scene was almost surreal: tables, chairs, the whole kitchen were all still there as if just waiting for customers. But everything was covered in a layer of dust that showed for how long noone had eaten or prepared food here. Over a year, the guard told me. And how about the restaurant at the top - the one with the panoramic view? The same. Noone went up anymore. Customers had just been too few and everything had closed down. It seems this was Luoyang's attempt at creating an upmarket venue but it had failed. Kaifeng, so a driver had told me, was poor. Luoyang was apparently also not as rich as entrepreneurs had expected. Now the tower stood silent and abandoned bearing witness to their miscalculations. Only the lights come on every night hinting at its past glory...
I wish the city well though. It seems on its way to becoming a vibrant modern city. It would be interesting to come back here in a few years and see what has changed. In China, that could be just about anything.
"Scruffy", the Lonely Planet China described the Old Town of Luoyang. The thing about the Planet is - as an American friend in Kaifeng said - they hate China. I found they've often exaggerated a bit when it comes to touristiness or trouble you might run into. They also seem to have the attitude of: "China used to be good but now it's crap. Fortunately, we went to see it when it was still good." Maybe this is the first time I'd agree with the Planet on the choice of words (or am I just biased by reading the Planet first?). Still, this is how the place has evolved. It may not be the prettiest old town in China but it feels alive and organic. I thought that's the kind of authenticity that the Planet looks for. A mixture of historic buildings and more recent, tiled houses (which the Planet loves to hate. Why? They're also China) dotted with little shops.
Sadly the use of words like "scruffy" makes you want to get out of town as fast as you can, which I think is the wrong thing to do. The guide book does not mention that Luoyang is a much more developed city than Kaifeng. The infrastructure is much better. Also, it has a built up, high rise, modern district that the book completely fails to mention right around Wangcheng Square. This is actually the place that I liked a lot more than the old town. There is a stage between an international city like Beijing and a village and this is it. People come out 'til late at night practicing water calligraphy, dancing or just chatting on the square. It feels so alive walking through it on a hot evening like now.
One unique thing about Luoyang was the buildings but I'm not talking about historical ones. When the business district was built someone must have told the designers: "Go wild, make it modern. We're a modern city so take us to the 21st century." Or they were on some sort of controlled substances or just mad. Or all of the above. The result may be a bit too modern even for a 21st century city - wait at least for another 200 years. I swear, parts of the Public Security Bureau with its mirrored glass facade and saucer-like little spires and antennae on the top looked ready to lift off into space, shoot lasers or transform into God-knows-what. Then near Wangcheng Park I spotted another high rise which looked like a cross between something from Star Wars and the Dark Tower from Lord of the Rings. Now, don't let me be misunderstood - I like it here. It has a distinctive feel. It's just that part of this feel is distinctly Star Trek.
On the other hand it is also here that I've realised how much China is developing the eastern cities but may be neglecting the western ones. Luoyang has a cool TV tower, with a spherical platform like the one in Shanghai but tall and sharp, reminiscent of Ostankino in Moscow. I saw it from far away and decided to have a closer look. Maybe I could go up and enjoy the panorama of the city and the Luo River. When I got there, however, it was abandoned. I was expecting expensive restaurants and some sleek decor and it had certainly been there. But no more. A guard told me there had been a Tibetan Barbecue restaurant. Walking around the base of the tower I could see inside. The scene was almost surreal: tables, chairs, the whole kitchen were all still there as if just waiting for customers. But everything was covered in a layer of dust that showed for how long noone had eaten or prepared food here. Over a year, the guard told me. And how about the restaurant at the top - the one with the panoramic view? The same. Noone went up anymore. Customers had just been too few and everything had closed down. It seems this was Luoyang's attempt at creating an upmarket venue but it had failed. Kaifeng, so a driver had told me, was poor. Luoyang was apparently also not as rich as entrepreneurs had expected. Now the tower stood silent and abandoned bearing witness to their miscalculations. Only the lights come on every night hinting at its past glory...
I wish the city well though. It seems on its way to becoming a vibrant modern city. It would be interesting to come back here in a few years and see what has changed. In China, that could be just about anything.
Thursday, 1 May 2008
Freezing me bits off ...
Luoyang, China
Rooms are expensive here. It's national holiday week, ridiculous numbers of people are trying to get out and about for a few days, hotel rates have doubled (at least) and my bargaining position is weak. After a period of worrying I found a hotel for some 60 RMB near the train station. The sun was beating down and I didn't want to have to scour the city for a better deal. The backpack is just too heavy and I don't even know where I'm going.
The room is decent enough and it even features a phone, so I finally had a chat with my mother again last night. The bathroom is shared. Now here's the downside: There's no hot water in the shower. None. The only other public shower room is all the way on the other side of the building. On a different floor. Now, you may say: "hey, a bit of cold water is not too bad. You said the sun was beating down." And I'll reply: "There's a difference between cool water on a hot day and bloody freezing water on a chilly spring morning." I swear, every part of my body wrinkled down to minimum size. I wonder where they got the water from that it was that cold. But in the end I was too lazy to go to the other bathroom, which, I guess, makes me bloody-minded. Are we men or are we mice?! I've rarely been so awake in the morning. They say cold showers are healthy. They'd better be right!
Rooms are expensive here. It's national holiday week, ridiculous numbers of people are trying to get out and about for a few days, hotel rates have doubled (at least) and my bargaining position is weak. After a period of worrying I found a hotel for some 60 RMB near the train station. The sun was beating down and I didn't want to have to scour the city for a better deal. The backpack is just too heavy and I don't even know where I'm going.
The room is decent enough and it even features a phone, so I finally had a chat with my mother again last night. The bathroom is shared. Now here's the downside: There's no hot water in the shower. None. The only other public shower room is all the way on the other side of the building. On a different floor. Now, you may say: "hey, a bit of cold water is not too bad. You said the sun was beating down." And I'll reply: "There's a difference between cool water on a hot day and bloody freezing water on a chilly spring morning." I swear, every part of my body wrinkled down to minimum size. I wonder where they got the water from that it was that cold. But in the end I was too lazy to go to the other bathroom, which, I guess, makes me bloody-minded. Are we men or are we mice?! I've rarely been so awake in the morning. They say cold showers are healthy. They'd better be right!
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