071008 - Train to Yang Shou - West Street
Train arrival
Bus to Yang Shou
Check-in
Orientation walk
Dinner
Sleep
Thursday, November 13, 2008
061008 – Shanghi to Train
061008 – Shanghi to Train
Free breakfast
Pack and checkout
Train to Yang Shou
Free breakfast
Pack and checkout
Train to Yang Shou
041008 – Shanghai
041008 – Shanghai
Sleep-in on train
Arrival and taxi to hotel
Check-in and showers
Lunch
Orientation walk
Browsing shops
Wander back
Drinks
Taxi to night-district
Drinks with Swedes
Wander
Meet up with others
Zapatas for dancing
Taxi back
Sleep
Sleep-in on train
Arrival and taxi to hotel
Check-in and showers
Lunch
Orientation walk
Browsing shops
Wander back
Drinks
Taxi to night-district
Drinks with Swedes
Wander
Meet up with others
Zapatas for dancing
Taxi back
Sleep
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
031008 – Xi'an
Today began with a sleep-in, definitely necessary considering the intestinal maelstrom I've been battling lately.
Finally, the decision was made that enough had been allocated, for now. Trying not to disturb Dom too much, I managed to pack, isolate the stuff that I was planning to post, take my morning dose of antibiotics, shower and chat to Charlotte from back home on the internet for a good hour. As I was finishing up my preparations, Dom appeared to reanimate and made a staggering lurch to the bathroom. Finishing quickly with the lights now on, we discussed the timings for the day and I made a hasty departure for the post-office.
Today would be an interesting exercise of choreography. I'd woken up early enough but had left the room much later than I'd planned. It was about 1030 when I ran into Adam, Katie and Sadat on the street and we agreed to meet at midday to tour the wall. This meeting would coincide with the checkout time, leaving about an hour to send my package home and get a coffee or go to the markets. There might be some time this afternoon, after the wall....
urgh, and I was feeling really wrotten.
The post-office was cloaked behind the facade of a mobile phone shop and two columns of teenagers dancing around with brochures, trying to advertise things to the locals. This appeared to be the only challenge for use, however, as once I got inside I was helped by everyone. One gent took my bag of stuff and packed it into a box (while inspecting it to make sure it was appropriate for postage) and then sealed it. Another girl (who spoke better English than I do, most elegant) gave me the forms to fill out and then processed it, along with selling me stamps to send my post-cards. In all, it cost about $40 to send the 2.9kg of hats, books, dolls and trinkets home via sea-mail.. maybe it would even get home before me!
One oddity was a man who appeared on the upper level of the post-office, screaming and bellowing. Making his way down the escalator at a break-neck speed and out the door, his cries of rage and anguish faded into the street. No one really seemed to notice or even interact, so I got back to my packaging.
Post-cards to my friends and package to parents on its way, it was time for some more sustenance. I'd had some fruit for breakfast and would have murdered for a nice bowl of muesli with yoghurt.. I was feeling far too dodgy for asian food and needed a pick-me up...
Starbucks was the only thing even remotely close to what I needed...
I felt dirty.. like a little piece of me had died while I ordered that coffee.
Technically, the coffee was well executed and fulfilled its purpose, and the Starbucks DID have free WiFi which allowed me to get the various applications on my iPhone to run properly.. but I was sad to once again stray from the “Traveller's way” and resort to that which was familiar.
The walk to the coffee shop had been punctuated by a crowd surrounding some creature screaming bloody-murder. Wandering close to the congregation of people, I saw above the heads and between legs that there was a man of similar appearance to the “expressive” chap that had broken the monotony in the post-office. Two other men were with him, one having put his arm into a lock-hold and the other working in concert to hold him on the ground by putting a foot on his neck. The continued screams and bellows of animal rage had me thinking that either the police with handcuffs or an ambulance with chemical restraints would probably be arriving before too long. Such voiceless expressions spoke of an inner pain, of loss beyond imagine, or of a near overdose of amphetamines.. Quietly slipping past, I continued through the subway towards my promises of coffee. There was nothing that I could possibly do to help here.
A little late on the trip back from the coffee shop to the hotel, I could only hope that I would be able to get to the markets in the Muslim quarter later. Meeting Adam and Andy in the lobby, they had waited for me and continued to wait while I fetched my bag and checked out. They truly are two of the most awesome travelling companions that I could ask for.
After briefly begging a maid to let me in (my key appeared to have stopped working at midday), jamming the last two things into my pack and humping down the hall to Lillian's room before a quick check-out, we were on our way.
The walk to the city wall was longer than I had originally remembered, I think that the last few days of exercises had done wonders to my knee though and I hardly noticed the walk or the pace. Meeting Greg and Alice inside of the wall, we started our little stroll along the battlements.
The Xi'an City Wall is a couple of kilometres along each face and encompasses all of the old city. It is approximately 20 metres high about street level on the interior wall and has a steep drop into a moat for much of the exterior wall that we saw. Wide enough for a dual-carriage way highway, it is an impressive piece of fortification. You could have park two or three mac trucks side by side on it.. or possibly land a plane along it, it is certainly long enough for the average run-way. The top of the wall facing the oncoming enemy was capped with parapets along its length, some with additional steps though the majority had their lower edge at waist height and the finished above my head. About every 200 metres there was either a guardhouse building or the vacancy for such a building, ongoing construction and restoration work was taking place in several locations.
Best traversed on a bicycle in less than “100 minutes”, such a convenience may be hired for 20 Yuan plus a 200 Yuan deposit (or leaving your passport).
Well, hired by anyone but us...
Despite having half a dozen of the two wheeled vehicles in their little yards, none of the bicycle vendors would loan us a machine... leaving us to start a fairly long walk..
Starting at the South Gate and walking about 1.5km to a giant circular outpost. Acting as the junction between the South and West wall, this outcrop worked in concert with the West gate to offer mutual coverage and protection. The view across the old city was much of what we had come to expect from the time we had spent here, a strange interspersed mix of ancient tile roofs with block concrete. Rejuvenated antiquity with decaying contemporary siblings. Looking out over the wall, the outer city was cloaked in the profoundly thick smog.
With visibility at a little over a kilometre, the skyscrapers that we had been unaware of till now were great looming shadows stretching high above the world. The ancient city wall had been shielding us much of the modern progression of this place.
Looking back along our path, the rows of red lanterns on the outer edge of the wall lined the distance. Disappearing into the thick atmosphere, we could not see where we had mounted the wall. Even each of the guard towers would have been beyond visible distance from each other.
We turned around and made our way back when we got to the West Gate, deciding that we would get lunch in what I remembered being introduced as the Academic district. These markets were much slower paced and no where near as packed as the Muslim quarter. Much more sedate and somewhat more refined, the shops sold brushes, ink, calligraphy and carved name-stamps. Stalls full of little curiosities, beads, bracelets and necklaces of carved stones and jade. This section of the city was devoid of the fade watches and sunglasses. There was no cheap-gaudy junk here, plenty of touristy things but certainly a lot more pleasant and refined than elsewhere. The vendors were no where near as busy, but felt no need to hassle or harass the people passing by. Foreigners were smiled at rather than confronted and it took a good minute or two of browsing before the inevitable “good price! what you want?!?!?!”
Working in tag-team with some of the others, I picked up a little fake jade necklace made of a small green disc with a centre hole and suspended on a red cord. Very similar to what I gave Marianne for Christmas a couple of years ago. Adam and Greg paid 5 Yaun to watch a man blow a little chicken out of toffee in the same way as you would from molten glass. Continuing on to lunch, I was still feeling really dodgy but joined the group for vegetarian dumplings. Absolutely delicious and incredibly cheap, we ate all we could for about 2 Yuan each (about 40 cents) and I started to feel a lot better.
We dispersed on the way back to the hotel, stocking up on fruit and food for the train journey tonight, I took off back to the markets in the Muslim quarter to pick up some final cheap junk..
Navigating through the crowd and tight corridors of the marketplace, I irritated a pair of pick-pockets by being a little too vigilant and made off to less dense areas. I picked up a little stamp and watched the older gentleman carve the chinese character translation of my name in the bottom. Incredibly impressive for freehand work, I also got a pack of postcards and a little container of ink thrown into the deal. Working forward, I got some filthy cheap Ray-Ban Aviator glasses knock-offs. I was tempted to get a fake Rolex, he was offering a reasonable price for the Automatic winders... but I resisted.
I was a little disappointed that I couldn't find the day-pack that I'd planned on buying, having to hunt for nearly an hour ot find a suitable substitute. That said, I got a nike knockoff at a lot less than I expected and it was a bit more compact. The girl convinced me to buy a leather wallet as well. She was unimpressed at how much I paid, the filthy look telling me that I wasn't getting ripped off too badly.
Purchases made and my new man-bag filled with the prizes of would-be pick-pockets, I took off back to the hotel feeling a lot safer about my possessions. Stopping only long enough to buy a cheap little combination lock, I noticed the stall with the day-pack I'd been hunting for earlier. Not taking the risk of seeing the bag I'd hunted for, I doubled my pace and told myself that I'd gotten a better case for my laptop at a much better price than I'd expected. Quit whining..
Back in the hotel, we shifted bags from the storage room to the lobby and killed time till the bus arrived. The short ride and little walk after had us sitting in the train station for about an hour. Managing to find free wifi, the technologically gifted amongst us made excellent use of the facilities. Soon enough, and half way through downloads, we bugged-out of our little refugee camp and made our way through the check-points to the platform. Long walk later, we were in our compartments and settling in for the night.
Tomorrow lunchtime would see us in Shanghi.
Finally, the decision was made that enough had been allocated, for now. Trying not to disturb Dom too much, I managed to pack, isolate the stuff that I was planning to post, take my morning dose of antibiotics, shower and chat to Charlotte from back home on the internet for a good hour. As I was finishing up my preparations, Dom appeared to reanimate and made a staggering lurch to the bathroom. Finishing quickly with the lights now on, we discussed the timings for the day and I made a hasty departure for the post-office.
Today would be an interesting exercise of choreography. I'd woken up early enough but had left the room much later than I'd planned. It was about 1030 when I ran into Adam, Katie and Sadat on the street and we agreed to meet at midday to tour the wall. This meeting would coincide with the checkout time, leaving about an hour to send my package home and get a coffee or go to the markets. There might be some time this afternoon, after the wall....
urgh, and I was feeling really wrotten.
The post-office was cloaked behind the facade of a mobile phone shop and two columns of teenagers dancing around with brochures, trying to advertise things to the locals. This appeared to be the only challenge for use, however, as once I got inside I was helped by everyone. One gent took my bag of stuff and packed it into a box (while inspecting it to make sure it was appropriate for postage) and then sealed it. Another girl (who spoke better English than I do, most elegant) gave me the forms to fill out and then processed it, along with selling me stamps to send my post-cards. In all, it cost about $40 to send the 2.9kg of hats, books, dolls and trinkets home via sea-mail.. maybe it would even get home before me!
One oddity was a man who appeared on the upper level of the post-office, screaming and bellowing. Making his way down the escalator at a break-neck speed and out the door, his cries of rage and anguish faded into the street. No one really seemed to notice or even interact, so I got back to my packaging.
Post-cards to my friends and package to parents on its way, it was time for some more sustenance. I'd had some fruit for breakfast and would have murdered for a nice bowl of muesli with yoghurt.. I was feeling far too dodgy for asian food and needed a pick-me up...
Starbucks was the only thing even remotely close to what I needed...
I felt dirty.. like a little piece of me had died while I ordered that coffee.
Technically, the coffee was well executed and fulfilled its purpose, and the Starbucks DID have free WiFi which allowed me to get the various applications on my iPhone to run properly.. but I was sad to once again stray from the “Traveller's way” and resort to that which was familiar.
The walk to the coffee shop had been punctuated by a crowd surrounding some creature screaming bloody-murder. Wandering close to the congregation of people, I saw above the heads and between legs that there was a man of similar appearance to the “expressive” chap that had broken the monotony in the post-office. Two other men were with him, one having put his arm into a lock-hold and the other working in concert to hold him on the ground by putting a foot on his neck. The continued screams and bellows of animal rage had me thinking that either the police with handcuffs or an ambulance with chemical restraints would probably be arriving before too long. Such voiceless expressions spoke of an inner pain, of loss beyond imagine, or of a near overdose of amphetamines.. Quietly slipping past, I continued through the subway towards my promises of coffee. There was nothing that I could possibly do to help here.
A little late on the trip back from the coffee shop to the hotel, I could only hope that I would be able to get to the markets in the Muslim quarter later. Meeting Adam and Andy in the lobby, they had waited for me and continued to wait while I fetched my bag and checked out. They truly are two of the most awesome travelling companions that I could ask for.
After briefly begging a maid to let me in (my key appeared to have stopped working at midday), jamming the last two things into my pack and humping down the hall to Lillian's room before a quick check-out, we were on our way.
The walk to the city wall was longer than I had originally remembered, I think that the last few days of exercises had done wonders to my knee though and I hardly noticed the walk or the pace. Meeting Greg and Alice inside of the wall, we started our little stroll along the battlements.
The Xi'an City Wall is a couple of kilometres along each face and encompasses all of the old city. It is approximately 20 metres high about street level on the interior wall and has a steep drop into a moat for much of the exterior wall that we saw. Wide enough for a dual-carriage way highway, it is an impressive piece of fortification. You could have park two or three mac trucks side by side on it.. or possibly land a plane along it, it is certainly long enough for the average run-way. The top of the wall facing the oncoming enemy was capped with parapets along its length, some with additional steps though the majority had their lower edge at waist height and the finished above my head. About every 200 metres there was either a guardhouse building or the vacancy for such a building, ongoing construction and restoration work was taking place in several locations.
Best traversed on a bicycle in less than “100 minutes”, such a convenience may be hired for 20 Yuan plus a 200 Yuan deposit (or leaving your passport).
Well, hired by anyone but us...
Despite having half a dozen of the two wheeled vehicles in their little yards, none of the bicycle vendors would loan us a machine... leaving us to start a fairly long walk..
Starting at the South Gate and walking about 1.5km to a giant circular outpost. Acting as the junction between the South and West wall, this outcrop worked in concert with the West gate to offer mutual coverage and protection. The view across the old city was much of what we had come to expect from the time we had spent here, a strange interspersed mix of ancient tile roofs with block concrete. Rejuvenated antiquity with decaying contemporary siblings. Looking out over the wall, the outer city was cloaked in the profoundly thick smog.
With visibility at a little over a kilometre, the skyscrapers that we had been unaware of till now were great looming shadows stretching high above the world. The ancient city wall had been shielding us much of the modern progression of this place.
Looking back along our path, the rows of red lanterns on the outer edge of the wall lined the distance. Disappearing into the thick atmosphere, we could not see where we had mounted the wall. Even each of the guard towers would have been beyond visible distance from each other.
We turned around and made our way back when we got to the West Gate, deciding that we would get lunch in what I remembered being introduced as the Academic district. These markets were much slower paced and no where near as packed as the Muslim quarter. Much more sedate and somewhat more refined, the shops sold brushes, ink, calligraphy and carved name-stamps. Stalls full of little curiosities, beads, bracelets and necklaces of carved stones and jade. This section of the city was devoid of the fade watches and sunglasses. There was no cheap-gaudy junk here, plenty of touristy things but certainly a lot more pleasant and refined than elsewhere. The vendors were no where near as busy, but felt no need to hassle or harass the people passing by. Foreigners were smiled at rather than confronted and it took a good minute or two of browsing before the inevitable “good price! what you want?!?!?!”
Working in tag-team with some of the others, I picked up a little fake jade necklace made of a small green disc with a centre hole and suspended on a red cord. Very similar to what I gave Marianne for Christmas a couple of years ago. Adam and Greg paid 5 Yaun to watch a man blow a little chicken out of toffee in the same way as you would from molten glass. Continuing on to lunch, I was still feeling really dodgy but joined the group for vegetarian dumplings. Absolutely delicious and incredibly cheap, we ate all we could for about 2 Yuan each (about 40 cents) and I started to feel a lot better.
We dispersed on the way back to the hotel, stocking up on fruit and food for the train journey tonight, I took off back to the markets in the Muslim quarter to pick up some final cheap junk..
Navigating through the crowd and tight corridors of the marketplace, I irritated a pair of pick-pockets by being a little too vigilant and made off to less dense areas. I picked up a little stamp and watched the older gentleman carve the chinese character translation of my name in the bottom. Incredibly impressive for freehand work, I also got a pack of postcards and a little container of ink thrown into the deal. Working forward, I got some filthy cheap Ray-Ban Aviator glasses knock-offs. I was tempted to get a fake Rolex, he was offering a reasonable price for the Automatic winders... but I resisted.
I was a little disappointed that I couldn't find the day-pack that I'd planned on buying, having to hunt for nearly an hour ot find a suitable substitute. That said, I got a nike knockoff at a lot less than I expected and it was a bit more compact. The girl convinced me to buy a leather wallet as well. She was unimpressed at how much I paid, the filthy look telling me that I wasn't getting ripped off too badly.
Purchases made and my new man-bag filled with the prizes of would-be pick-pockets, I took off back to the hotel feeling a lot safer about my possessions. Stopping only long enough to buy a cheap little combination lock, I noticed the stall with the day-pack I'd been hunting for earlier. Not taking the risk of seeing the bag I'd hunted for, I doubled my pace and told myself that I'd gotten a better case for my laptop at a much better price than I'd expected. Quit whining..
Back in the hotel, we shifted bags from the storage room to the lobby and killed time till the bus arrived. The short ride and little walk after had us sitting in the train station for about an hour. Managing to find free wifi, the technologically gifted amongst us made excellent use of the facilities. Soon enough, and half way through downloads, we bugged-out of our little refugee camp and made our way through the check-points to the platform. Long walk later, we were in our compartments and settling in for the night.
Tomorrow lunchtime would see us in Shanghi.
021008 – Xi'an
My alarm got me out of bed at a suitably early hour. This morning we would be visiting the Terracotta Warriors, reputed to be the EIGHTH WONDER OF THE WORLD!!! I quickly refreshed myself and went out looking for breakfast and something to carry for lunch.
Having done a little surveillance from the hotel room, I crossed the street and picked up two little fried parcels. The first was filled with a fried egg. Though tasty, I was still a little spent on eggs after the middle east.. The first bite of the second parcel was heavenly, it was filled with a type of chopped and cooked spinach mixed with spring onions, chives and various other leafy greens. However, my exclamation of WOW quickly turned. The first bite was delightful, put the flavour of the morsel quickly became burdensome.
Breakfast partially completed, I reversed the steps of the orientation walk. Heading back towards one of the connecting streets, away from the main strip, I found the part of the city where all of the locals ate. Running into Petra and Anna on the way, we joined forces and chatted while selecting fruit and snacks for lunch. Failing to find any break in the little supermarkets, we each bought banana's and apples, the girls picking some more fruit, from the little trailers on the street. Prices were negotiated in sign language, I'd managed to start being able to hear the sounds of the different numbers but was still an awfully long way off of haggling.
The final victory of the morning was at a hot plate towed behind a bike. Happily paying the 2 or 3 Yuan, I watched with hungry eyes as the gentleman prepared a crepe. Smearing an egg across one side along with some chopped greens and then flipping it as soon as it had hardened, he filled what would become the interior with a crunchy type of deep-fried bread and a dark paste that had been spread across the thin batter. I'd seen these being cooked yesterday and had heard about them from Lillian. Now one of them was mine!
Breakfast was finished with the Swedish girls on the way back to the hotel. We chatted for the length of the little walk and then waited out the front for the rest of the group. Finally everyone had assembled and Lillian introduced the local guide for the day for giving a brief farewell along with instructions for the rest of the day. Boarding the bus, we had at least 1.5 hours each way to the Terracotta warriors.
While heading away from the city centre, our guide gave us some information about the warriors, the area they were in, the history and significance and the option to go to the “government factory”. She had the particular gift to talk no matter what and I could see that it would be a very long ride. The group agreed as a whole to go to the “government factory”, though the amount that the guide elaborated on “.. very good quality, very cheap, you should buy there..” made it sound like a Carpet Tour. At the least, we would learn how the great ceramic warriors were made and it would offer us a toilet break.
Arriving at the factory, we disembarked and waited for our guide to get us on a little tour. Most of us spent the wait by getting silly photos in the partial statues out the front. Missing the heads and hands, we got to “wear” half of the statue in each photo. I got a couple of photos while pulling “angry eyes” at the camera.
Inside the factory, we watches as ladies prepared the miniature figures for firing. The guide talked us through the process as the workers stuffed clay into moulds before pulling them apart and lining up the little brown soldiers to dry. The rate that they were fabricating them was fantastic, combined with the price that they were asking must give this factory a licence to print money!
We saw the kilns and some partially completed full-sized statues, but did not get to see the craftsmen working on them. Instead we were directed past some pretty girls painting figurine. At least the fabrication process was explained to us. The great statues were all made by hand, the body and the head separately, before drying and then being fired at somewhere between 900-1100 degrees. The heads were made separately and then mounted in the cavity that was the neck in the main body. This allowed the gas within the hollow statues to expand during firing, preventing the statues from exploding or sagging. Also assuming, the heads required more detail and were more fragile, the bodies would have been more suitable for mass-production.
Into another section, we watched what I would assume were master-craftsmen creating the detailed and colourful furniture tops. Mother of Pearl and lacquered finishes covered paper and wooden surfaces with impressively detailed stories and scenes of significant characters.
The short tour was finished in the maze of what was the sales room. Starting with a supply of the great statues, everyone stopped for photos with the Emperor, Generals, Officers, Soldiers and Archers. The were horses that were still lacking tails (assumedly they were somewhat fragile and the “tail hole” was necessary for the firing process). The three great chambers required traversing its entire stockpile in order to escape. Getting lost once and requiring directions twice, I was able to find a western toilet and even a cafe within the show-room before fleeing out the exit. They really wanted to sell. All of the prices were extortionate, somewhere between double or ten-fold what I would have been prepared to pay. They still REALLY wanted to sell something.
Waiting out the front for the rest of the group to assemble and go hunting for the bus, I wished that the show-room had been more reasonable in its prices. I would have loved to have bought a little terracotta statue for Mum and Dad, or even myself, but the prices were ten to twenty times more than what was on offer at the markets. I really could not have justified spending $40-60AUD on a 15cm figurine..
Many of us dozed for the rest of the way to the historical site. Mercifully, the local guide had tired of the sound of her own voice and left us undisturbed. With the first day of the National Holiday in full swing, the traffic snarls sprouted, reared and bared teeth while I snoozed. Finally waking within a kilometre of the museum, I stared out the window for the next 20 minutes before it was unanimously decided that we would walk the remaining 700 metres.
Joining the crowds of pedestrians ricochetting between the stationary cars, we quickly made it to the great statue overlooking the museum parking lot. A short but pointless wait later, we followed the guide as she purchased out tickets and began the long walk through the gardens that had once been farmland, all the way to the main complex of buildings.
The story of the Terracotta warriors is that there was an Emperor who, on turning 13 years of age, began to have his tomb constructed. Eventually it was completed and he had all of the surviving workers executed, in order to keep its location a secret. Due to this and other decisions, that particular Emperor was not overly popular. Some years later, soldiers broke into the great pits housing the soldiers, stealing the weapons, smashing the statues and setting fire to the structure. The pits had been dug as rows with columns of dirt supporting the roof. The roof was made of thick logs covered with reed mats and then several layers of soil and rocks. The actions of the looters caused the complete collapse, destruction and burying of the ceramic army.
The legacy of this particular, unpopular, emperor was lost. The few who had known forgot or died. The secret of the builder and the shame of the looters was never passed on.
Time passed. The world above grew and shrank. Life, death, wars and change all took their turn.
For the next 3000 years, farmland grew above. No one knew of the 6000 graves of a Terracotta Army.
One day, three farmers decided to dig a well. Perhaps there was a reason for the particular place in the farmland where they would dig. I'm sure there was no reason for the exact, specific, precise location that they chose.
This place was in the very corner of the Number One pit, the largest feature of the archaeological site. Some metres down from the surface, one of the farmers uncovered a vibrantly painted terracotta head. Several days later, one of the farmers notified the authorities and officials made their way out to investigate. If you pick the day right, you can meet the farmer who called the government. He lost his farm to what is one of the most significant historical finds in China. He will even sign your gift book of the museum.
Had they dug the well even one metre away from where fate had dictated, these planes would be unnoticeable, indistinguishable farmland. What was forgotten would still be lost.
Entering into the museum complex, we were taken to see a movie outlining the history of the place. Unfortunately, our guide either mistimed, or didn't care, and we got to see the 10 minute documentary in Chinese rather than English. Still, we got the salient facts. Taking this time to suck down drinks and ice-creams, we followed on to the No. 1 pit which houses the vast majority of the statues.
I'll take this time to air an observation. Whenever somebody says “the Chinese Terracotta Soldiers”, almost everyone things of long dark trenches, illuminated by wooden torches. Off into the distance, a vast army of thousands upon thousands of dark statues stand a silent guard in the shadows. The only sound in this place is your frightened breathing as you creep along rank and file. If your submissive respect falters for even a second, they might animate, come-at-arms and bring you down for your dishonour to their emperor...
The No. 1 pit of the Terracotta Warriors is instead housed in what appears to be a fair sized hangar (a couple of hundred metres long), you are about 5 metres above the pit at all times and surrounded by about 10,000 of the loudest and most obnoxious Chinese tourists you could ever imagine. You wish that you only had to tolerate the screaming kids, instead your entire experience has the sound-track of the adults bellowing, chattering and screaming at each other. While on the street, the vast and overwhelming majority of Chinese Citizens are pleasant and friendly, here they were rude, pushing and shoving or even walking over or through you. If you have ever heard of the term “Little Emperor Syndrome” imagine a couple of thousand adults that need some manners back-handed into them.
Below you, at the front of the pit, there are a half-dozen rows of assembled and restored statues. There is then a long stretch of smashed pottery to show the discovered state of the site. Behind, for the rest of the dig, is mostly untouched earth. This is a work in progress, there is still a LOT of work to be done.
While I'm sure it must be something like a thousand rebuilt statues on display here, in the scope and size of the place it feels like you are looking at less than a dozen.
Once again, like Egypt, I'm sure that the grandeur and magnitude of this place would hit you if you were able to wander around alone for a couple of hours. Exploring this place in solitude.
Unfortunately, that was NOT my experience.
With everyone a little jaded by the main pit, we were guided on to the site that had been determined to be the “Command Centre” for this silent army. On display around on the walkway at the top of the pit, there were weapons and statues in glass cases. Battling through the crowd, I succeeded in getting some snaps of the main artefacts. The pit itself appeared to be even less established than the main pit. Almost the entire site looked like it was untouched.
Though the stage of development of all of the digs was more than a little disappointing, it is important to remember the state that most of the artefacts were found in. Smashed, stolen and burned. I made the continual point of reminding myself that the archaeologists are taking their time. The restoration process is being done properly, not roughshod. Additionally, exposing the statues to oxygen causes the mineral paints to begin to fade and chip. Originally coming out of the ground in full, vibrant, life-like colour, the pieces quickly lose their colour and appear to be just pottery. When digging to within range of the pits, the release of the soil is meant to result in about a dozen different types of mould to start growing, further damaging the remains. As our guide said several times, we don't have the technology to properly preserve and protect these findings.
Requiring a break from the angry, spoiled, childish crowd, I joined the Swedish girls in stilling under a small monument and having some drinks. We talked about uni while snacking on the various provisions we'd brought for lunch. Feeling better, I left them writing post-cards, steeling myself to enter the “Carriage Museum”.
Fighting through the crowd, I only had about 10-15 minutes to view the main pieces before meeting the others for the walk back to the bus. The crowd was bordering on “Sheep-Yard” density. I've seen rugby scrums that are less packed than this building.
Making my way down to the level with the two carriages on it, I finally made it around the corner to the first glass case. Trying to see through the reflected camera flashes, I spotted the 150kg of bronze and 10kg of gold that made up the first of the Emperors carriages. Complete with driver, the whole thing was about 1:2 or 1:3 scale and a little bit of a disappointment. I managed to get some photos on an angle that is free of flash and glare, but I had no chance to inspect the workmanship or be impressed by any other feature. In a place about the length of my living room, a good foot taller than anyone around me, I couldn't get within 2 metres of the glass case.
Moving onto the next case, the Emperor's Private Personal Carriage, this vehicle was also miniature. Whereas the first carriage had been the “herald carriage”, featuring bell and notices that “the Emperor is coming!!!”, the private carriage was designed to keep His Worship from public view. Including features such as little windows to regulate the internal temperature without exposing one-self to public view, it was all an effort of dodging attracted attention..
You may as well give a Steer the equipment for breastfeed a calf... you get the idea...
Anyways, I got some more snaps and managed to get close enough to see a little of the detail on this second carriage. I'm sure I'll be suitably impressed when I blow-up the image at full-resolution back in Australia.
Fighting through the Zombie Horde, I made it out the exit and glared my way across to the meeting point. Once arriving at the entrance flag-poles, the group chattered and slouched around until the full number was present. The walk out to the bus felt twice as far as the trip in, our local guide taking the liberty of walking us through the entire length and breadth of the souvenir district that has been built as a satellite suburb to the museum complex.
I don't think any of us bought anything, on principle.
The trip back to the hotel was mercifully silent and most of us snoozed or listened to music. On the way into and out of the museum complex, we all noticed literally hundreds of locals selling pomegranates. Some had stalls, some sat of the floor. Regardless, it was certainly a saturated market. As we got further along the road, I noticed that more of them had stalls operating out of tents. I'd seen similar tents on the road to the Great Wall, here I had the chance to see into the little structures as the bus drove past. Table full of fruit, chair, bed... is this where these people live? competing with hundreds of others to sell their fruit between working in the adjacent fields? I really know nothing of the economy or culture of this part of the world, but I was absolutely astounded by this entire situation. Is it normal to have a bunk there, for a midday nap? I'd noticed that most of the stalls in the alleyways of the Muslim quarter had stairs or back rooms. The tea-house had said much of their complex was not accessible as it was still residential or commercial. Did the people selling cheap bags and watches live above their little store?
Once back in town, the four of us boys went to the 24 hour restaurant for lunch. Being seated fairly promptly, the staff were extremely helpful and got every english speaking waitress in the building to make sure that we had everything that we needed. Opting to order straight away from the menu, we were all a little stung with what came out. Not exactly matching what we expected, the extremely fishy soup and what we thought was custard but actually had crab in it, mostly went untouched.
The actual main dish was nice enough, but unremarkable. Noticing Dim Sum carts being pushed around, I got everyone to grab something off of it. SUCCESS!
Having a handful of the more tasty Dim Sum cuisine, it was agreed that we would have to eat back here again later. NOT ordering off of the menu.
We were all very happy with the service and most definitely with the dishes that we enjoyed.
Feeling pretty average, I joined the others in wandering to the market but branched off by my own not long into the trip. My tummy was definitely getting the gribblies, as Jenny calls it. I'd decided that I would start dosing myself with Norfloxacin again. This would be the fourth time since I left Australia that I'd needed Antibiotic Assistance. I'm suspect that it was a combination of the snake I ate in Beijing mixed with a heavy night out. I'm sure if I was more conservative in what I ate, I'd not have any of these problems, but the local food is what has been the most noticeable and remarkable feature of the trip to me..
Exploring through the markets, I delved deeper and deeper into the alleyways of vendors and stalls. I was trying to do my best to get lost in the crowd and the culture. I found little connecting alleys back to the main square, a girl busking from a wheel-chair, multitudes of stores selling a wealth of items that time was not allowed to forget. Wrist-watches with images of Chairman Mao, mechanical arm waving at your cuff-links, an ancient Engineer's compass with built-in slide-rule computer. Priced far into the excessive, it had been released from service in a time that had been forgotten and it didn't even occur to me to try and haggle it down to a price I might have been prepared to accept. Oceans of polo-shirts neighboured onto small continents of fake Rolex's and walking sticks. Mountain ranges of artwork and calligraphy dividing the forests of handbags, a thin column of silk book-bags offering a pass through the terrain.
I followed one little road of stalls at the back of the market all the way to its end. Here it intersected with another much larger road that had little eateries and restaurants its entire length. The buildings were of the old architecture, houses and hidden courtyards, alleys and eateries, butchers next door to a window that had a chef stirring a giant pot or a Chinese herbalist selling medicine. There were hardware stores selling globes and building supplies and little newsagents with batteries and pens. The eves overhead were shadowed by the branches of the trees that were almost invisible on the street and there was a string of red lanterns flying far above head-height, watching down on the life in the street and the single foreigner who had come to visit.
Finding myself back on the main road between the Bell Tower and the South Gate, I slowly made my way back to the hotel. The local part of the city had been manageable and pleasant while still bustling. Back on the main strip it was once again chaos of tourists and traffic that seemed out for blood and fresh human flesh. I got onto a now-familiar route and headed for the hostel, pausing by an older gentleman who might have been a beggar. He had a box in front of him that was stuffed with notes, a look of pride in his eyes and no right arm below the elbow. Instead of prostrating himself across as much foot-path as possible and looking miserable and pitiful, like almost every other beggar I had seen, he was sitting upright with legs crossed and a great deal of purpose. Strapped to his amputated fore-arm, he had a special little harness that kept a little brush in place. With deliberate and careful intent, this little brush was blossoming the most astounding and delicate calligraphy onto a scroll of rice-paper on the little platform table in front of him. Leaving him with the handful of small denomination notes that I hadn't been able to get rid of, I continued back to the hotel with a bit of a smile. I'd made the rule of not giving money to beggars on my travels, especially after all of the warnings I'd been given before leaving home, I would never have called this gentleman anything less than an artist.
The group met for dinner, almost all of us going to the restaurant for Dim Sum. Having learnt from our previous experience, we only took dishes from the cart and ate like kings. On one of the other tables, some of the girls insisted on ordering from the menu and were a little less than happy before figuring out how to use the carts. Having eaten and drunk our fill, and then some more, we all emerged from the eatery with very full tummies. Once again the staff had been fantastic, I think most of the employees had come out to see the westerners, a rarity in this place that was full of locals.
Outside, we diverged into groups. Seeking cigarettes or phone cards, snacks or drinks. I followed the group up the main commercial mall to a department store where we wandered around Wal-Mart. Realising there wasn't really anything I needed, I excused myself and went back to the hotel the long way. The mall was full of scaffold stalls and vendors selling expensive equivalents of what could be found in the street markets I'd been exploring earlier. Getting back to the hotel having only purchased some water at the entrance, I read and typed a little bit. Finally able to take the antibiotics for my tummy, I got ready for an early night, hoping to feel a bit better in the morning and missing everyone at home a little bit more than I'd care to admit.
Having done a little surveillance from the hotel room, I crossed the street and picked up two little fried parcels. The first was filled with a fried egg. Though tasty, I was still a little spent on eggs after the middle east.. The first bite of the second parcel was heavenly, it was filled with a type of chopped and cooked spinach mixed with spring onions, chives and various other leafy greens. However, my exclamation of WOW quickly turned. The first bite was delightful, put the flavour of the morsel quickly became burdensome.
Breakfast partially completed, I reversed the steps of the orientation walk. Heading back towards one of the connecting streets, away from the main strip, I found the part of the city where all of the locals ate. Running into Petra and Anna on the way, we joined forces and chatted while selecting fruit and snacks for lunch. Failing to find any break in the little supermarkets, we each bought banana's and apples, the girls picking some more fruit, from the little trailers on the street. Prices were negotiated in sign language, I'd managed to start being able to hear the sounds of the different numbers but was still an awfully long way off of haggling.
The final victory of the morning was at a hot plate towed behind a bike. Happily paying the 2 or 3 Yuan, I watched with hungry eyes as the gentleman prepared a crepe. Smearing an egg across one side along with some chopped greens and then flipping it as soon as it had hardened, he filled what would become the interior with a crunchy type of deep-fried bread and a dark paste that had been spread across the thin batter. I'd seen these being cooked yesterday and had heard about them from Lillian. Now one of them was mine!
Breakfast was finished with the Swedish girls on the way back to the hotel. We chatted for the length of the little walk and then waited out the front for the rest of the group. Finally everyone had assembled and Lillian introduced the local guide for the day for giving a brief farewell along with instructions for the rest of the day. Boarding the bus, we had at least 1.5 hours each way to the Terracotta warriors.
While heading away from the city centre, our guide gave us some information about the warriors, the area they were in, the history and significance and the option to go to the “government factory”. She had the particular gift to talk no matter what and I could see that it would be a very long ride. The group agreed as a whole to go to the “government factory”, though the amount that the guide elaborated on “.. very good quality, very cheap, you should buy there..” made it sound like a Carpet Tour. At the least, we would learn how the great ceramic warriors were made and it would offer us a toilet break.
Arriving at the factory, we disembarked and waited for our guide to get us on a little tour. Most of us spent the wait by getting silly photos in the partial statues out the front. Missing the heads and hands, we got to “wear” half of the statue in each photo. I got a couple of photos while pulling “angry eyes” at the camera.
Inside the factory, we watches as ladies prepared the miniature figures for firing. The guide talked us through the process as the workers stuffed clay into moulds before pulling them apart and lining up the little brown soldiers to dry. The rate that they were fabricating them was fantastic, combined with the price that they were asking must give this factory a licence to print money!
We saw the kilns and some partially completed full-sized statues, but did not get to see the craftsmen working on them. Instead we were directed past some pretty girls painting figurine. At least the fabrication process was explained to us. The great statues were all made by hand, the body and the head separately, before drying and then being fired at somewhere between 900-1100 degrees. The heads were made separately and then mounted in the cavity that was the neck in the main body. This allowed the gas within the hollow statues to expand during firing, preventing the statues from exploding or sagging. Also assuming, the heads required more detail and were more fragile, the bodies would have been more suitable for mass-production.
Into another section, we watched what I would assume were master-craftsmen creating the detailed and colourful furniture tops. Mother of Pearl and lacquered finishes covered paper and wooden surfaces with impressively detailed stories and scenes of significant characters.
The short tour was finished in the maze of what was the sales room. Starting with a supply of the great statues, everyone stopped for photos with the Emperor, Generals, Officers, Soldiers and Archers. The were horses that were still lacking tails (assumedly they were somewhat fragile and the “tail hole” was necessary for the firing process). The three great chambers required traversing its entire stockpile in order to escape. Getting lost once and requiring directions twice, I was able to find a western toilet and even a cafe within the show-room before fleeing out the exit. They really wanted to sell. All of the prices were extortionate, somewhere between double or ten-fold what I would have been prepared to pay. They still REALLY wanted to sell something.
Waiting out the front for the rest of the group to assemble and go hunting for the bus, I wished that the show-room had been more reasonable in its prices. I would have loved to have bought a little terracotta statue for Mum and Dad, or even myself, but the prices were ten to twenty times more than what was on offer at the markets. I really could not have justified spending $40-60AUD on a 15cm figurine..
Many of us dozed for the rest of the way to the historical site. Mercifully, the local guide had tired of the sound of her own voice and left us undisturbed. With the first day of the National Holiday in full swing, the traffic snarls sprouted, reared and bared teeth while I snoozed. Finally waking within a kilometre of the museum, I stared out the window for the next 20 minutes before it was unanimously decided that we would walk the remaining 700 metres.
Joining the crowds of pedestrians ricochetting between the stationary cars, we quickly made it to the great statue overlooking the museum parking lot. A short but pointless wait later, we followed the guide as she purchased out tickets and began the long walk through the gardens that had once been farmland, all the way to the main complex of buildings.
The story of the Terracotta warriors is that there was an Emperor who, on turning 13 years of age, began to have his tomb constructed. Eventually it was completed and he had all of the surviving workers executed, in order to keep its location a secret. Due to this and other decisions, that particular Emperor was not overly popular. Some years later, soldiers broke into the great pits housing the soldiers, stealing the weapons, smashing the statues and setting fire to the structure. The pits had been dug as rows with columns of dirt supporting the roof. The roof was made of thick logs covered with reed mats and then several layers of soil and rocks. The actions of the looters caused the complete collapse, destruction and burying of the ceramic army.
The legacy of this particular, unpopular, emperor was lost. The few who had known forgot or died. The secret of the builder and the shame of the looters was never passed on.
Time passed. The world above grew and shrank. Life, death, wars and change all took their turn.
For the next 3000 years, farmland grew above. No one knew of the 6000 graves of a Terracotta Army.
One day, three farmers decided to dig a well. Perhaps there was a reason for the particular place in the farmland where they would dig. I'm sure there was no reason for the exact, specific, precise location that they chose.
This place was in the very corner of the Number One pit, the largest feature of the archaeological site. Some metres down from the surface, one of the farmers uncovered a vibrantly painted terracotta head. Several days later, one of the farmers notified the authorities and officials made their way out to investigate. If you pick the day right, you can meet the farmer who called the government. He lost his farm to what is one of the most significant historical finds in China. He will even sign your gift book of the museum.
Had they dug the well even one metre away from where fate had dictated, these planes would be unnoticeable, indistinguishable farmland. What was forgotten would still be lost.
Entering into the museum complex, we were taken to see a movie outlining the history of the place. Unfortunately, our guide either mistimed, or didn't care, and we got to see the 10 minute documentary in Chinese rather than English. Still, we got the salient facts. Taking this time to suck down drinks and ice-creams, we followed on to the No. 1 pit which houses the vast majority of the statues.
I'll take this time to air an observation. Whenever somebody says “the Chinese Terracotta Soldiers”, almost everyone things of long dark trenches, illuminated by wooden torches. Off into the distance, a vast army of thousands upon thousands of dark statues stand a silent guard in the shadows. The only sound in this place is your frightened breathing as you creep along rank and file. If your submissive respect falters for even a second, they might animate, come-at-arms and bring you down for your dishonour to their emperor...
The No. 1 pit of the Terracotta Warriors is instead housed in what appears to be a fair sized hangar (a couple of hundred metres long), you are about 5 metres above the pit at all times and surrounded by about 10,000 of the loudest and most obnoxious Chinese tourists you could ever imagine. You wish that you only had to tolerate the screaming kids, instead your entire experience has the sound-track of the adults bellowing, chattering and screaming at each other. While on the street, the vast and overwhelming majority of Chinese Citizens are pleasant and friendly, here they were rude, pushing and shoving or even walking over or through you. If you have ever heard of the term “Little Emperor Syndrome” imagine a couple of thousand adults that need some manners back-handed into them.
Below you, at the front of the pit, there are a half-dozen rows of assembled and restored statues. There is then a long stretch of smashed pottery to show the discovered state of the site. Behind, for the rest of the dig, is mostly untouched earth. This is a work in progress, there is still a LOT of work to be done.
While I'm sure it must be something like a thousand rebuilt statues on display here, in the scope and size of the place it feels like you are looking at less than a dozen.
Once again, like Egypt, I'm sure that the grandeur and magnitude of this place would hit you if you were able to wander around alone for a couple of hours. Exploring this place in solitude.
Unfortunately, that was NOT my experience.
With everyone a little jaded by the main pit, we were guided on to the site that had been determined to be the “Command Centre” for this silent army. On display around on the walkway at the top of the pit, there were weapons and statues in glass cases. Battling through the crowd, I succeeded in getting some snaps of the main artefacts. The pit itself appeared to be even less established than the main pit. Almost the entire site looked like it was untouched.
Though the stage of development of all of the digs was more than a little disappointing, it is important to remember the state that most of the artefacts were found in. Smashed, stolen and burned. I made the continual point of reminding myself that the archaeologists are taking their time. The restoration process is being done properly, not roughshod. Additionally, exposing the statues to oxygen causes the mineral paints to begin to fade and chip. Originally coming out of the ground in full, vibrant, life-like colour, the pieces quickly lose their colour and appear to be just pottery. When digging to within range of the pits, the release of the soil is meant to result in about a dozen different types of mould to start growing, further damaging the remains. As our guide said several times, we don't have the technology to properly preserve and protect these findings.
Requiring a break from the angry, spoiled, childish crowd, I joined the Swedish girls in stilling under a small monument and having some drinks. We talked about uni while snacking on the various provisions we'd brought for lunch. Feeling better, I left them writing post-cards, steeling myself to enter the “Carriage Museum”.
Fighting through the crowd, I only had about 10-15 minutes to view the main pieces before meeting the others for the walk back to the bus. The crowd was bordering on “Sheep-Yard” density. I've seen rugby scrums that are less packed than this building.
Making my way down to the level with the two carriages on it, I finally made it around the corner to the first glass case. Trying to see through the reflected camera flashes, I spotted the 150kg of bronze and 10kg of gold that made up the first of the Emperors carriages. Complete with driver, the whole thing was about 1:2 or 1:3 scale and a little bit of a disappointment. I managed to get some photos on an angle that is free of flash and glare, but I had no chance to inspect the workmanship or be impressed by any other feature. In a place about the length of my living room, a good foot taller than anyone around me, I couldn't get within 2 metres of the glass case.
Moving onto the next case, the Emperor's Private Personal Carriage, this vehicle was also miniature. Whereas the first carriage had been the “herald carriage”, featuring bell and notices that “the Emperor is coming!!!”, the private carriage was designed to keep His Worship from public view. Including features such as little windows to regulate the internal temperature without exposing one-self to public view, it was all an effort of dodging attracted attention..
You may as well give a Steer the equipment for breastfeed a calf... you get the idea...
Anyways, I got some more snaps and managed to get close enough to see a little of the detail on this second carriage. I'm sure I'll be suitably impressed when I blow-up the image at full-resolution back in Australia.
Fighting through the Zombie Horde, I made it out the exit and glared my way across to the meeting point. Once arriving at the entrance flag-poles, the group chattered and slouched around until the full number was present. The walk out to the bus felt twice as far as the trip in, our local guide taking the liberty of walking us through the entire length and breadth of the souvenir district that has been built as a satellite suburb to the museum complex.
I don't think any of us bought anything, on principle.
The trip back to the hotel was mercifully silent and most of us snoozed or listened to music. On the way into and out of the museum complex, we all noticed literally hundreds of locals selling pomegranates. Some had stalls, some sat of the floor. Regardless, it was certainly a saturated market. As we got further along the road, I noticed that more of them had stalls operating out of tents. I'd seen similar tents on the road to the Great Wall, here I had the chance to see into the little structures as the bus drove past. Table full of fruit, chair, bed... is this where these people live? competing with hundreds of others to sell their fruit between working in the adjacent fields? I really know nothing of the economy or culture of this part of the world, but I was absolutely astounded by this entire situation. Is it normal to have a bunk there, for a midday nap? I'd noticed that most of the stalls in the alleyways of the Muslim quarter had stairs or back rooms. The tea-house had said much of their complex was not accessible as it was still residential or commercial. Did the people selling cheap bags and watches live above their little store?
Once back in town, the four of us boys went to the 24 hour restaurant for lunch. Being seated fairly promptly, the staff were extremely helpful and got every english speaking waitress in the building to make sure that we had everything that we needed. Opting to order straight away from the menu, we were all a little stung with what came out. Not exactly matching what we expected, the extremely fishy soup and what we thought was custard but actually had crab in it, mostly went untouched.
The actual main dish was nice enough, but unremarkable. Noticing Dim Sum carts being pushed around, I got everyone to grab something off of it. SUCCESS!
Having a handful of the more tasty Dim Sum cuisine, it was agreed that we would have to eat back here again later. NOT ordering off of the menu.
We were all very happy with the service and most definitely with the dishes that we enjoyed.
Feeling pretty average, I joined the others in wandering to the market but branched off by my own not long into the trip. My tummy was definitely getting the gribblies, as Jenny calls it. I'd decided that I would start dosing myself with Norfloxacin again. This would be the fourth time since I left Australia that I'd needed Antibiotic Assistance. I'm suspect that it was a combination of the snake I ate in Beijing mixed with a heavy night out. I'm sure if I was more conservative in what I ate, I'd not have any of these problems, but the local food is what has been the most noticeable and remarkable feature of the trip to me..
Exploring through the markets, I delved deeper and deeper into the alleyways of vendors and stalls. I was trying to do my best to get lost in the crowd and the culture. I found little connecting alleys back to the main square, a girl busking from a wheel-chair, multitudes of stores selling a wealth of items that time was not allowed to forget. Wrist-watches with images of Chairman Mao, mechanical arm waving at your cuff-links, an ancient Engineer's compass with built-in slide-rule computer. Priced far into the excessive, it had been released from service in a time that had been forgotten and it didn't even occur to me to try and haggle it down to a price I might have been prepared to accept. Oceans of polo-shirts neighboured onto small continents of fake Rolex's and walking sticks. Mountain ranges of artwork and calligraphy dividing the forests of handbags, a thin column of silk book-bags offering a pass through the terrain.
I followed one little road of stalls at the back of the market all the way to its end. Here it intersected with another much larger road that had little eateries and restaurants its entire length. The buildings were of the old architecture, houses and hidden courtyards, alleys and eateries, butchers next door to a window that had a chef stirring a giant pot or a Chinese herbalist selling medicine. There were hardware stores selling globes and building supplies and little newsagents with batteries and pens. The eves overhead were shadowed by the branches of the trees that were almost invisible on the street and there was a string of red lanterns flying far above head-height, watching down on the life in the street and the single foreigner who had come to visit.
Finding myself back on the main road between the Bell Tower and the South Gate, I slowly made my way back to the hotel. The local part of the city had been manageable and pleasant while still bustling. Back on the main strip it was once again chaos of tourists and traffic that seemed out for blood and fresh human flesh. I got onto a now-familiar route and headed for the hostel, pausing by an older gentleman who might have been a beggar. He had a box in front of him that was stuffed with notes, a look of pride in his eyes and no right arm below the elbow. Instead of prostrating himself across as much foot-path as possible and looking miserable and pitiful, like almost every other beggar I had seen, he was sitting upright with legs crossed and a great deal of purpose. Strapped to his amputated fore-arm, he had a special little harness that kept a little brush in place. With deliberate and careful intent, this little brush was blossoming the most astounding and delicate calligraphy onto a scroll of rice-paper on the little platform table in front of him. Leaving him with the handful of small denomination notes that I hadn't been able to get rid of, I continued back to the hotel with a bit of a smile. I'd made the rule of not giving money to beggars on my travels, especially after all of the warnings I'd been given before leaving home, I would never have called this gentleman anything less than an artist.
The group met for dinner, almost all of us going to the restaurant for Dim Sum. Having learnt from our previous experience, we only took dishes from the cart and ate like kings. On one of the other tables, some of the girls insisted on ordering from the menu and were a little less than happy before figuring out how to use the carts. Having eaten and drunk our fill, and then some more, we all emerged from the eatery with very full tummies. Once again the staff had been fantastic, I think most of the employees had come out to see the westerners, a rarity in this place that was full of locals.
Outside, we diverged into groups. Seeking cigarettes or phone cards, snacks or drinks. I followed the group up the main commercial mall to a department store where we wandered around Wal-Mart. Realising there wasn't really anything I needed, I excused myself and went back to the hotel the long way. The mall was full of scaffold stalls and vendors selling expensive equivalents of what could be found in the street markets I'd been exploring earlier. Getting back to the hotel having only purchased some water at the entrance, I read and typed a little bit. Finally able to take the antibiotics for my tummy, I got ready for an early night, hoping to feel a bit better in the morning and missing everyone at home a little bit more than I'd care to admit.
011008 – Xi'an
The lights came on and we were woken sometime before 5. The train attendant and then Lillian did the rounds of making sure that everyone was up and getting ready to depart. With pain in our eyes, we clambered down and heaved our packs on. It was still dark as we left the station.
Meeting at an Intrepid flag out the front, a local contact lead the march to the bus. Walking through the cool pre-dawn, we passed street sweepers and store-owners preparing for their day. Though the streets were almost deserted, there were still these gentle signs of life. The bus took us on a very convoluted route that lead across express ways and through the great arches of the city wall, barely noticed by its passengers through their exhausted haze.
Reaching the hotel, Lillian informed us that our rooms were not ready. Check-out was at midday and it would not be till late morning before any rooms would be available for us. Dumping our gear in the one room that was free for us, a handful stayed behind to snooze or shower while the rest of us followed Lillian's lead to a MacDonalds breakfast.
As we walked into the city, a handful of features were pointed out to us. A 24 hour restaurant that had reasonable prices and a good reputation, the vague direction to the shopping district, so on. The MacDonalds was painfully cheerful, the 10 or 12 of us glaring darkly at the bright décor as we munched our hotcakes and McMuffins. After being fed, coffee'd and tired of being stared at by the locals, most of us ventured outside in the growing grey light. Locals had begun to congregate, greeting the friends that they were waiting for or hoping onto busses as they pulled in. A great truck pulled past with a water cannon, locals diving out of the way as the aquatic weapon fired on each of the trees and shrubberies in turn, rationing out sustenance for the day. While waiting out the front for Lillian to make something happen, we discovered that we'd merely replaced the loud décor for loud theme music underpinning importance of the restaurant advertisements to the deserted street. With each painfully cheerful tone, a little piece in each of us died...
Finally, everyone had finished their greasy breakfast and the smokers had consumed as many nicotine-beverages (as they now called them) as their lungs could cope with. Lillian disappeared for half an hour to fetch the snoozing girls, returning to take us on the orientation tour.
Guiding us from the MacDonalds and the Bell Tower in the very centre of the city, we made our way to the South Gate and veered off into the Academic or University district. A great many of the stores displayed sales of brushes, inks and paper. There were more than a few vendors that had signs of selling jade or carved name-stamps. The string work and hanging ornaments were of impressive quality and the feel of the place was a certain level of refinement and restraint that the Silk Road had been lacking. A very small handful of stalls had been populated with vendors and wares, more store-owners were watching the westerners stumble past as they smoked or finished breakfast. Turning up another street, we were shown the different restaurants and eateries, the super-market and how to purchase food from the street vendors.
The vibrancy and life of Xi'an was painfully apparent to our sleep-deprived senses. The colours and smells, even in the early dawn was striking. Here, away from the main street, the locals lived and operated their little businesses. Passing little restaurants that were not much more than a hole in a window and a set of crowded collapsible chairs and tables, the citizens of this city had filled the seats and were being fed. Side alleys boasted the trappings of a particular speciality be it food, tea or trinkets. Signs in Chinese and English advertised “CHEAP TEA” “FAMOUS JADE” “YOUR NAME – ENGLISH CHINESE”. On the street, the smog above compressed down the flavours and fragrances, be it perfume or a narrow column of air from the open sewer grate. My only one dislike of the metropolis was the unmistakable and utterly undisguised scent of the public conveniences.
Again passing the hotel, the group continued on as a whole, we made our way back past the Bell-Tower and navigated the crowds in the underpass. Coming out the other side, past the post-office and across the street, Lillian seated us outside a closed restaurant for a little rest. Her phone rang while she was telling us about the great reputation of this particular eatery and the dumplings it was famous for, another two rooms were free for anyone who was desperate for a shower and sleep. Charlotte and one of the other girls volunteered and made a hasty departure for sanitation and snoozing.
Venturing on, we passed into the Muslim quarter. The street market was mostly assembled and staffed, we first wandered the street on both sides, making faces at the various cuisines. Lillian then took us to a near by historical residence were we had a tour and then a very hard-sell of the various types of tea, under the disguise of a traditional tea ceremony. The group drank the teas that had been paid for in the entrance fee but purchased a pitiful amount of their over-priced products. Refreshed despite the capitalist intents, we continued on through the markets as the frenzied activity of the vendors increased. Taking a side road, we went through stalls of fake glasses, watches and bags. Bargaining until the sellers smiles turned to frowns and they glared at us as we changed small notes for goods, it was definite that we would be returning here several times for the cheap merchandise.
The morning stretched on, Adam had purchased a polo-shirt for a price that almost reduced the sales-girl to tears. I picked up the singly most creepy sunglasses I could find. Perfect circles on light frames, I selected them according to how uncomfortable the look of me wearing them made Andy and got them for about $3AUD. Dom got an Automatic winding Genuine Fake Rolex at the impressive price of 180Yuan, down from 800.
Finally we tired of the “Welcome, come in, you want bag, watch, t-shirt” “good-price, me sell you, friend” any time we even glanced at a stall. Leaving the markets, we made our way back to the hotel and finally checked in. Dom and I shared a room just down the hall from Adam and Andy. Packing was undone and showers were had. We agreed to meet again for lunch after a short break.
The afternoon was filled by more browsing at the markets in the Muslim quarter. Perusing stalls of nick-nacks that had no necessary purpose, a lot of us stocked up on gifts for when we got home or simply haggled to see how low we could get the price on an item that we were only vaguely interested in buying. Hanging back from the group after a while, I ventured out on my own and explored the more deep and convoluted streets. I didn't really have much of an interest in buying anything and made a point of moving on as soon as the stall owner appeared and began the hard-sell. I did find a little bag that might suit my laptop and save me carrying my day-pack everywhere. There were a pair of Aviator sunglasses that I might also buy, if I could find a cheap pair that didn't make my eyes sore. Wandering was the only purpose of the afternoon.
Finally tiring and desiring a toilet that didn't smell of death, I made my way back through the impressively dense crowd. The national holiday would start tomorrow and this was only a precursor... the next few days would be interesting.
I was starting to feel pretty ordinary. Thankfully the smog appeared to have cloaked the mystical powers of my belt, hopefully the intestinal maelstrom would pass before clear-sky could break through and be controlled by my Nasty-Butt.
Returning to the hotel brought on instant relief. It was fairly late in the afternoon and there was meant to be a group dinner tonight. I settled in for a nap, I would make a decision on dinner closer to the time. Dom appeared a couple of hours later in a similar state. Several hours after the group must have made their way to dinner, I woke up again and entertained myself with some issues of Transmetropolitan before drifting off to sleep for the rest of the night.
Meeting at an Intrepid flag out the front, a local contact lead the march to the bus. Walking through the cool pre-dawn, we passed street sweepers and store-owners preparing for their day. Though the streets were almost deserted, there were still these gentle signs of life. The bus took us on a very convoluted route that lead across express ways and through the great arches of the city wall, barely noticed by its passengers through their exhausted haze.
Reaching the hotel, Lillian informed us that our rooms were not ready. Check-out was at midday and it would not be till late morning before any rooms would be available for us. Dumping our gear in the one room that was free for us, a handful stayed behind to snooze or shower while the rest of us followed Lillian's lead to a MacDonalds breakfast.
As we walked into the city, a handful of features were pointed out to us. A 24 hour restaurant that had reasonable prices and a good reputation, the vague direction to the shopping district, so on. The MacDonalds was painfully cheerful, the 10 or 12 of us glaring darkly at the bright décor as we munched our hotcakes and McMuffins. After being fed, coffee'd and tired of being stared at by the locals, most of us ventured outside in the growing grey light. Locals had begun to congregate, greeting the friends that they were waiting for or hoping onto busses as they pulled in. A great truck pulled past with a water cannon, locals diving out of the way as the aquatic weapon fired on each of the trees and shrubberies in turn, rationing out sustenance for the day. While waiting out the front for Lillian to make something happen, we discovered that we'd merely replaced the loud décor for loud theme music underpinning importance of the restaurant advertisements to the deserted street. With each painfully cheerful tone, a little piece in each of us died...
Finally, everyone had finished their greasy breakfast and the smokers had consumed as many nicotine-beverages (as they now called them) as their lungs could cope with. Lillian disappeared for half an hour to fetch the snoozing girls, returning to take us on the orientation tour.
Guiding us from the MacDonalds and the Bell Tower in the very centre of the city, we made our way to the South Gate and veered off into the Academic or University district. A great many of the stores displayed sales of brushes, inks and paper. There were more than a few vendors that had signs of selling jade or carved name-stamps. The string work and hanging ornaments were of impressive quality and the feel of the place was a certain level of refinement and restraint that the Silk Road had been lacking. A very small handful of stalls had been populated with vendors and wares, more store-owners were watching the westerners stumble past as they smoked or finished breakfast. Turning up another street, we were shown the different restaurants and eateries, the super-market and how to purchase food from the street vendors.
The vibrancy and life of Xi'an was painfully apparent to our sleep-deprived senses. The colours and smells, even in the early dawn was striking. Here, away from the main street, the locals lived and operated their little businesses. Passing little restaurants that were not much more than a hole in a window and a set of crowded collapsible chairs and tables, the citizens of this city had filled the seats and were being fed. Side alleys boasted the trappings of a particular speciality be it food, tea or trinkets. Signs in Chinese and English advertised “CHEAP TEA” “FAMOUS JADE” “YOUR NAME – ENGLISH CHINESE”. On the street, the smog above compressed down the flavours and fragrances, be it perfume or a narrow column of air from the open sewer grate. My only one dislike of the metropolis was the unmistakable and utterly undisguised scent of the public conveniences.
Again passing the hotel, the group continued on as a whole, we made our way back past the Bell-Tower and navigated the crowds in the underpass. Coming out the other side, past the post-office and across the street, Lillian seated us outside a closed restaurant for a little rest. Her phone rang while she was telling us about the great reputation of this particular eatery and the dumplings it was famous for, another two rooms were free for anyone who was desperate for a shower and sleep. Charlotte and one of the other girls volunteered and made a hasty departure for sanitation and snoozing.
Venturing on, we passed into the Muslim quarter. The street market was mostly assembled and staffed, we first wandered the street on both sides, making faces at the various cuisines. Lillian then took us to a near by historical residence were we had a tour and then a very hard-sell of the various types of tea, under the disguise of a traditional tea ceremony. The group drank the teas that had been paid for in the entrance fee but purchased a pitiful amount of their over-priced products. Refreshed despite the capitalist intents, we continued on through the markets as the frenzied activity of the vendors increased. Taking a side road, we went through stalls of fake glasses, watches and bags. Bargaining until the sellers smiles turned to frowns and they glared at us as we changed small notes for goods, it was definite that we would be returning here several times for the cheap merchandise.
The morning stretched on, Adam had purchased a polo-shirt for a price that almost reduced the sales-girl to tears. I picked up the singly most creepy sunglasses I could find. Perfect circles on light frames, I selected them according to how uncomfortable the look of me wearing them made Andy and got them for about $3AUD. Dom got an Automatic winding Genuine Fake Rolex at the impressive price of 180Yuan, down from 800.
Finally we tired of the “Welcome, come in, you want bag, watch, t-shirt” “good-price, me sell you, friend” any time we even glanced at a stall. Leaving the markets, we made our way back to the hotel and finally checked in. Dom and I shared a room just down the hall from Adam and Andy. Packing was undone and showers were had. We agreed to meet again for lunch after a short break.
The afternoon was filled by more browsing at the markets in the Muslim quarter. Perusing stalls of nick-nacks that had no necessary purpose, a lot of us stocked up on gifts for when we got home or simply haggled to see how low we could get the price on an item that we were only vaguely interested in buying. Hanging back from the group after a while, I ventured out on my own and explored the more deep and convoluted streets. I didn't really have much of an interest in buying anything and made a point of moving on as soon as the stall owner appeared and began the hard-sell. I did find a little bag that might suit my laptop and save me carrying my day-pack everywhere. There were a pair of Aviator sunglasses that I might also buy, if I could find a cheap pair that didn't make my eyes sore. Wandering was the only purpose of the afternoon.
Finally tiring and desiring a toilet that didn't smell of death, I made my way back through the impressively dense crowd. The national holiday would start tomorrow and this was only a precursor... the next few days would be interesting.
I was starting to feel pretty ordinary. Thankfully the smog appeared to have cloaked the mystical powers of my belt, hopefully the intestinal maelstrom would pass before clear-sky could break through and be controlled by my Nasty-Butt.
Returning to the hotel brought on instant relief. It was fairly late in the afternoon and there was meant to be a group dinner tonight. I settled in for a nap, I would make a decision on dinner closer to the time. Dom appeared a couple of hours later in a similar state. Several hours after the group must have made their way to dinner, I woke up again and entertained myself with some issues of Transmetropolitan before drifting off to sleep for the rest of the night.
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