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.
Thursday, 8 May 2008
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!
Sunday, 27 April 2008
Home of the Sage
Qufu, China
The Lonely Planet China really didn't like Qufu, home of the famous 孔子 (who us Westerners know by his Latin name Confucius). There was talk of high prices and being constantly hassled by souvenir vendors and paddy cab drivers. Don't know which Qufu they visited. I actually liked it quite a lot here. So much that I extended my planned stay by a day.
Yeah, sure, there are lots of tourists (mainly Chinese ones) around the centre of town with two of Qufu's "Three Kongs", the Kong Temple （孔庙） and the Kong family home （孔府）. And there's the souvenir alley where any foreigner (or any obvious tourist, for that matter) is just a walking wallet waiting to be milked of its contents. But it's not too difficult to get away from all that. Just a bit off the centre, e.g. just outside the city walls, hotels are affordable, food is cheap and people are very kind. I got invited for dinner on two successive evenings. First was a group of young local businessmen who called me over to share their noodles, fish soup and crispy chicken head. Then there was a big group of cab drivers who insisted I had to have a beer (or two) and some barbecued snacks with them.
The final highlight and my favourite was the Kong Forest （孔林）, the final resting place of the sage and all (!) 76 generations of Kongs that followed after him. Of course, all tourists get herded (literally!) to his tomb and onto electric buses for a tour. But the area is vast and has countless little paths. I ended up spending an entire day walking around the peaceful forest of ancient trees, purple spring flowers and silent graves. I can't imagine a more relaxing way to end the day than watching the sinking sun through the foliage at this ancient place.
The Lonely Planet China really didn't like Qufu, home of the famous 孔子 (who us Westerners know by his Latin name Confucius). There was talk of high prices and being constantly hassled by souvenir vendors and paddy cab drivers. Don't know which Qufu they visited. I actually liked it quite a lot here. So much that I extended my planned stay by a day.
Yeah, sure, there are lots of tourists (mainly Chinese ones) around the centre of town with two of Qufu's "Three Kongs", the Kong Temple （孔庙） and the Kong family home （孔府）. And there's the souvenir alley where any foreigner (or any obvious tourist, for that matter) is just a walking wallet waiting to be milked of its contents. But it's not too difficult to get away from all that. Just a bit off the centre, e.g. just outside the city walls, hotels are affordable, food is cheap and people are very kind. I got invited for dinner on two successive evenings. First was a group of young local businessmen who called me over to share their noodles, fish soup and crispy chicken head. Then there was a big group of cab drivers who insisted I had to have a beer (or two) and some barbecued snacks with them.
The final highlight and my favourite was the Kong Forest （孔林）, the final resting place of the sage and all (!) 76 generations of Kongs that followed after him. Of course, all tourists get herded (literally!) to his tomb and onto electric buses for a tour. But the area is vast and has countless little paths. I ended up spending an entire day walking around the peaceful forest of ancient trees, purple spring flowers and silent graves. I can't imagine a more relaxing way to end the day than watching the sinking sun through the foliage at this ancient place.
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