Forbidden City, Beijing

Travelling from A to B cost me a day. B was Beijing, my final stop and keeper of boyhood marvels - The Great Wall of China. I only had one altercation on my way in - a helpful taxi driver with a dodgy meter.

To my surprise the English lads that I had met in Shanghai were still holed up in Beijing, running a few auctions on Ebay to add to their travel funds. Next day the lads and I walked out of the hostel’s alleys (lined with authentic ‘made in China’ tshirts and ‘dubbed in China’ DVDs) and in 2 blocks stepped onto the worlds largest square, site of the infamous Tiananmen Square Massacre. Mao lies here in the Mao Memorial Hall that I had no inclination to visit. Instead, we passed through this great space filled with Chinese tourists on the last day of their Golden Week holidays and a number of the guards to the vast complex on the other side - The Forbidden City.
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Pingyao Morning

I couldn’t get to sleep. Tom and Jerry were playing on the bus TV and the kid next to me kept falling asleep on my shoulder. I nudged him off again and cursed my lack of leg room. I checked my watch - 1:00am. The driver had chosen now for a noodle stop. Half an hour passed then we were back on our way and, exhausted, I fell into a deep sleep…For all of 3 hours.

I was woken with a prod. ‘Pingyao Pingyao!’ Dazed and confused I tried to adjust. I had planned this overnight bus to arrive in Pingyao at 8:00am. And now what WTF? 4:30am on the side of the motorway and I’m been told in Chinese that I’ve arrived! I’m being told to get off! A sign on the shoulder of the motorway does point to Pingyao, but I’m without a clue as to exactly how far it is. I made the call – I got off. Alone.

A shiver went up my spine from the chilly night air and the fact that I was walking into the dark night alone. I threw on my down jacket and put out my thumb. Hitching was of course useless. China is not like India where there is always someone going somewhere, anytime, happy to help you out for a few rupees. The trucks drove on past. So I walked.

Pingyao Han City Wall, the last remaining in China

But lady luck was with me, she often is. After walking only about 10 minutes I came across a motorway tollbooth. And quite to my surprise in this tiny central China outpost, the lady inside actually spoke a little English. In no time she arranged a random car and woke up my guesthouse manager telling him I was on my way. The rate of extortion was even very reasonable. I arrived, and I slept.

When I awoke mid morning I was amazed by the surroundings I found myself in. The guesthouse was like a movie set from old China, with lanterns, black brick work and a serene courtyard garden. Pingyao was a thriving merchant town in the Ming and Qing dynasties only a few centuries ago, since frozen in time when the town fell into poverty and failed to modernise. Outside the streets, closed to cars, were busy with Chinese tourists and market stalls. I sought out bike hire and with my knees touching the handle bars I headed out towards the west gate of the 6 km wall that surrounds Pingyao, said to be the last of its kind in China.

Mountain Noodles and spicy sauce. Delicious

The Lonely Planet described the 3km ride to Shuanglin monastery as ‘pleasant’ and that it featured ‘exquisite painted figurines’. I would describe the bike ride across scarred countryside and dusty fields of corn where pollution just hangs in the air as ‘interesting’ but definitely not pleasant. And the ‘exquisite painting figurines’ to be a complete figment. The figurines which can barely be made out in the lowest light were flaking paint and the Buddha’s inside I would consider to be in the worst condition of any such pieces I have seen in Asia.

I returned this time to the south gate of Pingyao and coughed up for the hefty 120yuan (NZ$25) ticket to all sites inside the walls. (They’ve really got you by the balls: its an all or nothing ticket). I walked the walls and poked my head into some of the old persevered residences. I ate at a small shop where the only word my host could say was ‘delicious’ as he pointed to each item on the menu. I ordered some mountain noodles, which to my surprise looked like a large honeycomb.

Incense trunks, Confucius Temple

The standout sites for me were the Confucius temple, where followers lit sticks of pink incense bigger than your leg, and the Taoist temple, where a lovely young guide gave me a free tour and description of all the tortures that sculptures of sinners were suffering – sliced in half, stomachs pounded with stones, eyes gouged out, all for eternity. I was advised against taking a photo, lest I release the soul into my camera and I contract this evil myself. These sculptures of course are remakes, the originals were sadly destroyed along with so much of Chinas ancient heritage by the Red Guards in the Cultural Revolution.

The lantern lit streets quietened down at night as day trippers had left. The early morning felt special too, Pingyao really felt like how I imagined the Middle Kingdom of centuries past.

Terracotta Warriors, Xian

It was only 4:00pm when the airport bus rolled into Xian but already the sky was grey like dusk. The bus route took me past the Drum Tower and City walls, attractions of Xian, shrouded in dust and smog. Just from this little sample of the city I decided I wasn’t going to stick around. I was only really here for the famous Terracotta Warriors.

On the some street girls in doorways tried to lure me into seedy cubicles. I realised I’d overshot the road for Lidao Binguan hostel. I arrived, booked a group tour for the warriors, headed to the bus station in the hope of securing an onward ticket for the next night, succeeded, then I crashed.

Warrior s and Horses

Next day our bubbly Chinese tour guide showed us onto our full size bus. “We are 13, 13 people, there are 13 of us” she informed us. Repeating everything 3 times was her signature. So, on a full size bus for just the 13 of us we headed off to our first stop. Surprise! A factory shop, masquerading as a demonstration of how to make Terracotta Warriors. Grrr.

Next up a flaky museum type place concreted and painted over in ‘traditional’ Chinese style. We then boarded the bus and got off just around the corner at some hot pools. Now, I wasn’t told to pack my togs so I thought maybe this would be like a Japanese type Onsen. But no, no swimming here, though you can pay extra to dip your feet in a concrete cannel of warm water. Each night a stage rises out of the main pond and nightfall kicks off with a laser light show. Wtf?

I inquired as to when (for the love of the great Buddha) we would get to the Warriors. It wasn’t right after lunch as promised. That slot went to the burial mound of Qin Shi Huang regarded by many Chinese as China’s founding father and for whom the Terracotta Warriors were built. What to say? A mini man made mountain, at the top of which was….steps back down.

Our group built up a little rapport through the day and we were all excited that at 4:00pm on our Terracotta Warriors tour we were heading for the headline attraction.

The Terracotta Warriors are a Terracotta army created to protect the tomb of the first Emperor of Qin, dating from 210BC. The site is still been excavated now 30 years after its discovery by peasant farmers and has unearthed more than 8000+ figures. more:

Terracotta Warriors Pit 1

Countless buses filled the mega parking area and inside the ticket gates countless more Chinese tourists filled the square out front. I stepped inside.

The site is comprised of 4 pits. The most impressive is Pit 1 holding 6,000 life size figures, in pretty good condition representing the first emperors army. The Warriors themselves are incredible and confrontational, all in battle formation (and when discovered were all armed.) Some are standing strong, others are crouching archers. Horsemen stand alongside their steeds. It is believed that no two are alike.

Yet for me the impact of such an amazing, ancient site was lessened by the way it is presented. The Terracotta Warriors are amazing by themselves so why try to build a museum monument over the site? Why not accentuate the find as an open dig in the design of the housing? Let natural light into the rooms? Or at least more light so it doesn’t have the feeling of just another old museum AND make it nearly impossible to take a decent photo. It’s Terracotta after all, not an oil painting. Could they have left just a few of the Warriors holding their original weapons rather than putting them into storage, leaving them now standing like Lego men waiting to be rearmed?
We all slept off the ride back to Xian and that night the group went out for a beer. I would’ve joined them but I had a night bus to catch onto Pingyao, a small town with the charm of old China.
** More photos in the Photolog

Shanghai Skyline from the Bund

I stepped off the clean and efficient subway into the heart of Shanghai. Friday night, Nanjing road. People bustling around me, a watch sir? DVD’s? lady massage? The road met a T junction at the next block – the famous Bund, the old colonial Shanghai where European bankers, merchants and Opium traders once plied their trade. The beautiful edifices of colonial buildings glowed in soft light. Opposite the Bund on the other side of the river was a different city altogether, a futuristic megacity that the Jetsons would’ve been at home in. I briefly took it all in, then dropped my bags at my hostel and made a phone call. I had an appointment to keep.

Somehow Leanne and I never caught up when I lived in London last year. Now by chance our paths crossed for an evening in Shanghai. Leanne and Cameron suggested we eat at only the most exclusive restaurant in the city and very kindly insisted on shouting me the experience. Underdressed but undeterred we managed to get a table without a reservation and sat down to enjoy some quality red wine and roast lamb. And of course, some quality conversation and catching up on life since we’d left NZ.

Lea and Cameron at M’s

From the balcony the night skyline was a stunning conglomeration of throbbing neon and zapping lasers, in the middle of which the giant Hyperdermic Oriental tower pulsed pretty pink. Enough to bring on a seizure. We moved to the bar downstairs (attended by staff employed to remind us to watch each and every step) and only called it a night when all the Mohitos had glazed Lea’s eyes over. Back down on the street (possibly under the influence myself) some street merchants skated up to me out of nowhere. I wanted to buy their clip-on shoe skates with wheels that glowed funky colours when they turned.

Next morning I woke up late. My head was a little foggy after the whirlwind start to my China trip. But it wasn’t a dream. I had glowing skates beside my bed to prove it.

Shanghai Streets

I set out on foot. The streets, lined with red flags, were heaving from the masses of Chinese out to celebrate their Golden Week holiday. My ill-timed vacation had collided with theirs making my onward travel difficult for the rest of my trip. It was drizzling, and I didn’t have an umbrella. A young lady who saw me slipping tried to strike up a conversation…

I took some shelter under the eves and she suggested we sit in this cafe until the rain stopped. Fine. Her friend materialized and invited herself. The prices were highish, but screw it, it was just tea. They asked me a few personal questions that I mostly invented answers to, other than to make clear I had a girlfriend. They might not have believed my one truth, and played along to my questions too, saying they were nurses. Sure…Some food arrived to go with their drinks. I politely declined. A short time later the girl I met first said she had to go but that she’d be back shortly. I don’t think so. It was time to show our cards. I called for the bill. Written down in black and white was a bill for 550 yuan (NZ$110).

The Bund, Shanghai

‘A little expensive’, I coolly suggested and pulled out 30yuan, the price of the only thing I’d touched - my tea. Their eyes popped out. ‘You have to pay for all! You’re the man!’, they protested.
‘I don’t think so’ I laughed, ‘I only pay for my girlfriend’
Their language became colourful as I walked out. Of course the coffee house was in on the game with them. A scam I hadn’t seen before, but China will have to do better that that. Roger 1 – China 0.
(John, I was thinking of your experience in Turkey in the middle of this one
Later after some street walking I made my way back to the hostel. Some friendly students from Beijing were having an art exhibition and while I wasn’t particularly interested it was on my way so I went with them. The gallery was a room on the 7th floor of some building just off the main drag. The students patiently explained the styles and meanings particularly of the calligraphic works. Whilst I originally had no intention of buying anything (my backpacker ethos), I submitted to buying one nice piece as a gift at what seemed a not unreasonable price. And hey, I was supporting local art.

A crew from the hostel were up for a Saturday night out, so we drank a few Tsingtao’s (700ml beers for 3 Yuan, or NZ$0.70) at the hostel, piled into a few cabs and hit some bar district. Good times and I even caught the Arsenal game.

Inflatable Communist Bananas

October 1st was the national day. I took in the not dull Shanghai museum and the striking Shanghai 6th Biennale of Art. The streets again were filled with people, this time all brandishing inflatable toys, clubs and bananas. Communist guards rigidly stood around in great presence looking rather cool. Otherwise, for a national day, nothing really happened. On the streets some more students from Beijing asked me if I wanted to check out their art exhibition nearby. Reality smacked me in the face. Yesterdays ‘students’ had probably just hawked me street art. Roger 1 – China 1.

Hangzhou lake and the DragonBoy

Next day I planned to go to Hangzhou lake with Tony and Alan, some good English lads. On the way back from the station buying tickets we overshot our subway stop and ended up lost like ants in future city. We found the only way back across the river was by the tourist tunnel. We paid our fare and shot though the tunnel and its gaudy lightshow at just short of lightspeed. :rolleyes:

Bright and early Tony, Alan and I took the bus to Hangzhou, 2 hours away. The lake and boat trip to the garden islands turned out to be the most overrated recommendation I have ever read in the Lonely Planet. The featureless lake area heaved with people, (a good number wanting to be in photos with us), the sky was greyed with smog and getting a return taxi proved impossible. We missed our return bus back to Shanghai. We luckily got another. Moment of the day: a Chinese dragon mask we found lying around that we had to try on. We goofed around and got some cool pics.

The JinMao Tower (higher than the Oriental needle nearby)

Back in Shanghai and determined to end the day on a high, we thought what better place than the 4th highest building in the world? Cloud 9 is a wanky bar on the 87th floor of the JinMao Tower. The nice head rush in the elevator lets you know you just ascended a few hundred metres in no time. We had a few laughs and looked down on 20 story buildings like they were Lego blocks.

I said goodbye to the lads who were heading on to Beijing. Next day I took the Maglev express train to the airport, at a top speed 431kmph. 2 hours later we touched down in Xian, somewhere in the middle of China.