Tibetan Culture Show

On the bus to Jiuzhaigou, I met a nice young man who spoke English named Yusuan. He was on vacation with his wife, family, and in-laws. Sensing my helplessness, the family adopted me for a couple of days. I joined them for dinner and a breakfast, stayed at the same hotel and accompanied them to a Tibetan culture show.

The program was in Chinese so I didn't understand too much, except for the part Yusuan translated for me.

It began with a short history of Tibet, which bordered on propaganda. The main scene illustrated the moment hundreds of years ago, when a Tibetan king married a Chinese princess, untiting the two country together forever. The scenes featured many interesting costumes and dacning. I really enjoyed these parts because there was no language barrier.

The rest of the show featured various Tibetan pop singers who much have been quite famous, since the crowd all seemed to know the songs. Yusuan said they were very popular, but he didn't knwo them since he lived in Singapore. There was a cheesy guy, who looked a bit either Sigfried or Roy, I never really knew which one was which, a two cheesy, yet gorgeous women pop singers, and finally some cheesy Tibetan Backstreet Boys type group that made all the women scream.

Overall, it was a fine show. Since the family had a connection, the tickets were $10 cheaper. The best part for me was spending time with a Chinese family. Though I could not understand what they were sayng, I could still observe the dynamics of the various family members. I witnessed a fight and forgiveness between Yusuan and his wife. Having been in enough fights with lovers myself, I didn't need to know the language to understand what they were saying. Overall, the family was quite nice. I couldn't really talk to them, but using body language, smiles and reading eyes, I was always able to get the idea of what people were saying. I was quite thankful of their hospitality. Imagine letting some random Chinese guy you met on the bus hang out with you for a couple days, even though he doesn't speak English. It sure doesn't seem like something I'd think of doing.

Jiuzhaigou

I consider myself blessed the many beautiful places I've seen in my life. New Zealand, Norway, Switzerland, even my own home state of Minnesota all stand as special places in this world, but there is a new addition to my list which may top them all: Jiuzhaigou

Situated deep in the mountains of Eastern Tibet, Jiuzhaigou is a splendid valley meaning Nine Village Valley, for the nine Tibetan villages that were once in the area.

Juizhaigou has a unique formula for its beauty. First, it is a gorgeous mountain valley with towering rock cliff and snow capped mountains that by themselves would be considered quite special. A stream flows through the bed. Due to various geological processes, the stream pooled into over a hundred shimmering lakes which reflect the valley's mountains. Each of the lakes is constantly flowing down through the valley. Because of the pooling, entire lakes spill over the lips, creating large spectacular waterfalls. This alone would have it top manys' list of the world's most beautiful places, but Jiuzhaigou adds another layer to its beauty. Due to the high oxygen content of the area and the particular mineral content of the water, the lakes are a deep shade of tourquoise, even when the sky is overcast. The trees when they fall into its crystal clear lakes, grow a thick layer of fuzzy green lichen. The colors are so vivid, they could only be in ones'
dreams, though they are so splendid, no imagination could create them. In October, Jiuzhaigou shows its royal flush as the Autumn turns the deciduous forests into a sea of reds, yellows and oranges.

The beauty comes at a cost however. The park is in the middle of nowhere, 12 hours drive from the nearest major city. I needed to travel a whole 24 hours to reach it. The entrance fee is 220 yuan and an additional 90 yuan for the bus, which is a neccessity due to the parks vast distances and many of the walking trails were closed. This adds up to 330 yuan or nearly $50 for one day at the park! I chose to spend the whole day hiking, walking nearly 30km. It was a beautiful day and beautiful place and when walking, you avoid the other thousands of people that enter the park everyday.

Though, when I sat on the bus as it meandered its way up the valley, the money investment, the time investment, they didn't matter. The second I first glimsed the impossible colors of the many pools, I felt as if I'd be content dying at that very moment.

Goodmorning Aaron

Mila left for Tai Shan, then to Beijing after our climb of Hua Shan. Her schedule did not allow her to continue with me any longer, which was a shame, she was a great travel partner. Helpful, smart, great company, yet she still respected the need for space. I was sad to see her head home.

My path led me in the direction of Jiuzhaigou National Reserve. The fastest way there from Xi'an involved taking an overnight train to the small city of Jiangyou, then catching a bus to the park. Simple enough.

The train dropped me off in Jiangyou at 6:30, fresh from sleep. Jiangyou was not a travelers destination, so Lonely Planet included no map or any entry at all on the place. I couldn't find an English map online, but it seemed to be small enough. When I got off, I knew I had one hour to find this bus. First, I stopped for some baozi (steamed meat dumplings). It is oh so hard to think without breakfast. I then found an idling bus and asked the bus driver, "Qiche Jiuzhaigou?", which translates to "Bus. Jiuzhaigou?". My Chinese is phenomenal! He pointed to a bus stop across the street. So I waited, but I still didn't feel confident; the stop seemed more like a place for city buses than one that would take me six hours away. So I asked a woman at a nearby internet cafe the same question. She pointed to that bus stop as well. I sat back down with my bags and waited, watching the city buses go by, getting stared at by everyone.

Eventually it was 8:30, an hour after my bus's scheduled time, so I gave up on waiting. I walked back to the train station and asked in butchered Chinese is anyone spoke English. The best response I got was, "We..." She stopped, then tried again. "We....". Apparently she knew was much English as I did Chinese. Finally, I tried another approach. "Qiche. Jiuzhaigou?" They shook their heads and I left.

I contemplated buying a train ticket to Chengdu, eight hours in the wrong direction, because I knew at least I'd find somebody who spoke English there. I was beating myself up, aimlessly walking, wondering why I chose to transit through some random town in the middle of Sichuan. Finally a man yelled at me from across the street. "Jiuzhaigou?"

"Yes!" I yelled back as I crossed the street towards him. "You can take me to Jiuzhaigou? Oh god. You speak English?"

He blankly stared back at me.

"Qiche. Jiuzhaigou?" I asked.

I handed him my little notepad for drawing pictures of things I didn't have the vocabulary to say and he started writing what seemed like an endless string of Chinese symbols. He then said something in Chinese. Then when I obviously didn't understand, he tapped the pen frustratedly at the characters he wrote as if I just wasn't paying attention to him. Few Chinese know how to write in Pinyin, which at least I could sound out and possibly pick up a few words. The characters mean nothing to me. Finally I saw him write out 15 and the symbol for money. This seemed so low for a six hour car ride. He opened the door to his van parked next to us and beckoned me to enter. I pointed to the van and asked, "Jiuzhaigou. 15 yuan?"

The man nodded his head. This seemed like a kidnapping. I wouldn't enter the van. It just felt wrong. I started flipping through the seven pages of random phrases in the back of the Lonely Planet, trying to find how to say in Chinese, "Thank you, you seem very nice, but I'm quite suspicious of your offer and I'd rather not be murdered today." Damn, it wasn't there!

By then, a crowd had gathered round me. All were trying to help, telling me different things in Chinese. Some pointed again to the characters the man with the van wrote on my notepad. Then another man grabbed my guidebook and started flipping through the pages. He finally pointed out the words "long-distance bus station". Suddenly, it all made sense, "Ah, your a taxi." Somebody behind me laughed. I decided to enter the van.

On the way, I started repeating the important words for bus station. "Qiche Zhan. Qiche Zhan. Qiche Zhan."

The driver then corrected my pronouciation, "Qiche Zhan!"

"Qiche Zhan"

"Qiche Zhan!"

"Qiche Zhan!" Apparently the exclaimation point was the key to correct pronouciation.

The town was much larger than I thought and it took nearly five minutes drive to reach the Qiche Zhan. Finally, we pulled in, he pointed me to the ticket window. I gave him 15 yuan, repeating "Xie Xie, Xie Xie, Xie Xie."

Ten minutes later, Iw was sitting on my bus. I did it. Traveling in a land when you don't know the language is either a self-esteem killer or helper. Simple things are difficult that when you complete them, it can seem like such a triumph. Purchasing pants can feel like climbing Everest. That day however, I more felt like a complete waste of a human being. I annoyed myself. Who am I to just go to a non-tourist town, not able to speak any of the language and just expect random people to help me. I felt worthless and helpless, but at least I managed to board a bus!!

Hua Shan

Two hours northeast of Xi'an lies Hua Shan, the west peak of the five holy Taoist mountains in China.  From the photos, it also seems to be the most spectacular.  Linda, the lovely, helpful woman who worked at our hostel said it was a love mountain.  The man sitting next to me on the bus said it means dangerous mountain. I wasn't sure who to believe, but either way, I wanted to go.

Mila and I missed the public bus, but in China, this is never a problem.  Most tourists go to the same places.

"Hua Shan!" yelled a woman and Mila and me.
"Uh yeah." I replied.
"Come!"

So we followed the random woman couple of blocks and after some point, we stopped her for an important question. "Wait, how much?"

"50!"
"35?"
"50!"
"40?"
"50!"

We though for a moment. Lonely Planet said the public transport was 30 yuan, but this involved finding the bus.  Our bus hunting saavy was not great at this early point in the trip, so were were willing to pay the extra $2.50.

"When you get there, tickets, they 110." the woman said. "We can get discount if you come with the tour."

"No!" Mila and I both shouted simultaneously. "we will buy at the mountain." Mila continued.

So, we shared the bus with a tour group filled with middle-aged Chinese and listened to a perky young woman spouts quick Chinese for a good hour. Even though I couldn't understand her, I also couldn't not listen. We were told the trip would take two hours. After 30 minutes, we stopped to buy snacks. Thirty minutes later, a bathroom break. 45 minutes after that, we stopped at a Chinese medicine stand. Just when we were quite sure we would be at the mountain, we then stopped for lunch. Before everyone headed into the restaurant, I asked my English speaking neighbor how close we were to the mountain. Apparently we were only a five minute cab ride from the trail, so we finally abandoned the tour.

Most people take the insanely expensive cable car to the top. Though easier and faster, I don't consider riding a gondola climbing a mountain. There are two foot route to the top, the nearly vertical "soldier's path" and the more gradual, but longer unnamed trail. We took the latter. It started as a consistent uphill climb for a couple of miles, passing through a towering yellow gorge with great views of the monolythic west peak for most of the way. The steady incline soon became stairs. The stairs then became very steep stairs. Despite being on a mountain, it was a hot and humid day. We both needed to rest many times on our way up. I doubt I've ever sweated so much in my life.

At some point, the line between stairs and ladders became blurry. Whatever we were climbing, they were steep, hard, and required a chain to climb. We were not alone in our ascent; other hearty souls were dying with us. One group was even drunk. They were yelling something in Chinese while they climbed and though we didn't know what they were saying, it was funny enough to make us and everyone else laugh. Humor transcends language, especially when fatigued.

It took three hours to reach the North Peak, lowest of the five. This was the terminus of the cable car and start of the climb for most visiting Hua Shan. There was still a lot of mountain to scale.

The trail continued along the Blue Dragon ridge, with steep cliffs on each side. It wasn't as scary as it sounds; it was actually just a bunch of stairs. In fact, the stairs never ended. The whole mountain was stairs. The scenery changed as the stairs shot up. They didn't wind; they only climbed. The view was so amazing, they were constant signs saying, "Walk don't watch or watch don't walk". One could easily see why this was holy mountain. Sadly, quited reflection was impossible. After the cable car there were thousands of people upon the mountain.

The higher up we got, many red ribbons and locks covered the railings. We saw why Hua Shan was a love mountain. Lovers purchase padlock, carve their names onto, then lock them on the chains and railings of the mountain. The higher up the lock, the stronger the love.

We headed straight to the East Peak where we planned to spend the night. We were to book our room, dump so weight from our packs, then head to the tallest peak, the south peak. After that, we'd catch the sunset on the west peak. Mila could not continue.

"My legs are shaking so badly." Her legs were in fact shaking very badly.

Even though I was dead tired myself, I had a vendetta. I wanted to watch the sunset and most importanly, I wanted to walk the death trail.

Originally, to reach the south peak, hikers had to walk along the cliff face plank trail, which is exactly what it sounds like, a trail that is some planks along the face of a cliff. There was a chain to grab onto. Maybe too many people fell thousands of feet to their death, but now it is a paid tourist activity with harnesses. Honestly, it wasn't too scary; the harness was unneccessary, there was ample foot space. The harness did allow for some crazy, half hanging off 2000ft cliff photos.

After my adrenaline fun, I headed to the South Peak where I just caught the lovely sunset. I walked back in the dark, took a wrong turn and had to climb a 30ft ladder in the darkness. By the time I reached the hostel, I could barely walk. The checkin area was swarming with people, wanting to sleep near the famous sunrise spot. We were glad we checked in early.

We were awoken by some loud yelling. Since everyone was waking up, I assume he yelled, "wake up!" No visit to Hua Shan is complete without watching the sunrise from the East Peak. It has a magnificent sunrise, but I've always thought of watch the sun come up as a solitary activity, not one to share with hundreds of people.

The walk down was much easier, but there was a little bottleneck at the ladder I'd climbed the night before. The impoliteness of the Chinese almost made me lose my cool that morning. For some reason, the Chinese detest queing; they avoid it all costs, choosing instead to push their way through people, cut in line, and literally jump over people to get in front. When people do this at a cliff face, it is quite dangerous. It was one of the few time I wished harm upon people. Don't cut in line when you can fall 40ft or knock people over...sorry, had to rant for a second.

Mila chose to take the cable cable car down, but was not bothered that I wanted to walk down the soldier's trail. It was easier than advertised, but I couldn't imagine taking it up. This was actually my favorite part of the trip. The trail was empty, the scenery was superb. There were actually birds I could hear. It was almost like a real hike. If it wasn't for all the people, it could be one of the most incredible places on earth (well, it still is I guess.)

Two Emperors, Two Tombs

Being the capital of the Chinese empire through countless dynasties, many emperors have chosen the area near Xi'an as their final resting place. Two such tombs are major tourist attractions of Xi'an. The tomb of emperor Jingdi of the Han dynasty and Qin Shi Huang's army of terracotta warriors. They both took astounding things to the grave with them, but the two could not have been any more different.

Qin Shi Huang was China's first emperor. He conquered China and brought the country together under one unified government. He was a grand reformer, building roads, standardizing measurments and writing, undertaking countless public works projects, unfiying currency, and was the first to start the great wall. He was also a ruthless tyrant, enslaving thousands, slaughtering opponents and other terrible atrocities. He didn't really seem like a nice guy, but he definately got things done. He died at a young age, due to a "life prolonging" medicine made from mercury. He completed all of these great advances for china in less than 30 years of rule.

Being he was a unfying warrior king, death must have never been too far from his mind. Shortly after his acsension to power, he began amassing his great protector army, the terracotta warriors. The first figure was found in 1974 by farmers digging a well. After striking something hard, he pulled up the drill and started to dig. They never expected what they found, a slightly larger than life terracotta figure of a crouched archer, all in one piece. The archer remains the only figure to have been found whole, giving it the name, "the magic archer". Turns out this was not a single figure, but a member of a whole pit of 1,500 figures of various martial duties. Three more pits have been found, yet they suspect many more may remain. One pit, said to be the headquarters has 75 generals, horses, and body guards. The greatest and most famous pit contains at least 7,000 warriors, all facing east and ready to defend Xin Shi Huang's grave. There are
probably more. The excavators have the painstaking job of digging up the pieces and placing them all together like the worst 3D puzzle in the world.

If this is not impressive enough, there are many trivia facts about the warriors that make them even more amazing, and infamous. Each figure is different; no face is the same. The shoes have tread. The roles in society of the members are there in the details, such as whether they are married or not. Every detail was considered. All 54 Chinese minorities are represented. Each figure was painted with exquisite detail and had their own crafted weapons. Every figure was made by a different artist and every artist who worked on the warriors was killed. That means that every clay soldier represents somebody's life. Qin Shi Huang was crazy. There were also wooden chariots that have rotted away, but archeologists have found three great painted bronze chariots.

There still may be thousands of more soldiers in the dirt to defend Qin's tomb. His tomb itself is a different story altogether. Historian fear opening it because of many dangers, including Indian Jones type traps and rivers of mercury. His tomb took 38 years and 700,000 makers to construct and stands as a giant hill overlooking the warriors. Of course, all 700,000 workers were buried along with the emperor in his tomb. It is fabled to contain vast treasures and great wonders, though many historians are sure it was sacked by invading warrior tribes after the fall of his dynasty.

Emperor Jingdi of the Han dynasty was quite different. Though he smashed a rebellion early in his reign, his rule was a peaceful one. He believed in wuwei, which meant "do nothing". This worked quite well for him; he was a respected peaceful emperor of his time. He did lower taxes, cut back on military spending, and other liberal reforms. He was a good democrat.

His tomb reflects his peaceful nature. It was made up of two great mounds, one for him and one for his wife. They stand as the world's largest tombs. Jingdi also chose to bring terracotta figures with him, but they were of a quite different nature. He made a miniature terracotta kingdom. There were servants, eunuchs, wives, horsemen, dogs, pigs, cows, oxen and many others. Most stand about 2 or three feet tall. The people had crafted silk costumes and movable wooden arms (which have all rotted away). It was a dollhouse for an emperor. Though not as impressive or insane as the warriors, it is still pretty cool. As for me, you can just burn me and dump me someplace pretty, that's enough for me. I don't need a massive death toll to remember me.

Xi'an

This ancient city is on most people's China itenaries. Despite being a generally pleasant city, it is nearby army of terracotta warriors that draws people to the cradle of Chinese civilization.

Xi'an is one of the oldest cities in China. The region's fertile soil has been a home of the Chinese for 5000 years. The Qin dynasty made it their capital in about 500BC and it remained there for 1,500 years.

Xi'an was the start/end of the silk road, depending on your vantage point, making one of the most important inland trade routes in China.

The city waslls still surround the city center. It is a museum opent to tourists. It even gives you the chance to rent a bike and ride around the whole wall to the city. I opted for this experience and it was a bumpy ride along the brick road, but quite fun.

At night, many come to the Big Goose Pagota, main symbol of the city, to see the spectactular fountain show. Streams of water are lit up and timed with music. It is the largest fountain show in all of Asia.

The true heart of the city however, is the muslim district. Tucked away behind the old drum tower, this chunk of town is filled with markets, mosques and food vendors selling a variety of delicious treats. Some highlights were fried parsimon filled doughballs, deep fried sweet potato cakes with a cinnamon walnut filling, deep fried sandwiches on flatbreads, and my personal favorite, yangrou paomo, a soup with lots of tiny chunks of flatbread, then filled with noodles and meat with a spicy, rich broth. If this wasn't my last meal in Xi'an, I probably would have eaten it everyday.

It was the food that was the true highlight for me. Beijing had heartier, more subdued, almost mainstream flavor. Xi'an was burst of taste. The food was spicy and rich. The restaurant proprietors, seeing my light complexion would often ask me something, pointing to the chilis. I always gave the thumbs up. A man even said to me in English one day while eating some sweat inducing soup, "I can't believe you are westerner eating this food! Isn't it too flavorfull?" I told him that I just love food and especially "ma" and particular flavor you can't really get in the US. It is a special type of numbing hot that is featured in many inner-China dishes, as oppossed to "la" which is the burning hot we are all familar with. The way these two types of hot are combined defines many of the dishes of Western China.

Peking Duck

No trip to Beijing is complete without dining on it signature dish, Peking Duck, a dish so signature, it has the city in its name. I had planned on finding the best duck in town, so a week before leaving, I used my old friend google to find where it could be found. Numerous websites agreed that the best was Beijing Dadong Duck restaurant.

As a thank you for helping her with her trip to China (I still don't know what I did; all my research needed to be done anyway and Mila makes quite pleasant company), so offered to take me to a nice restaurant for dinner. This seemed like the perfect place.

It was thankfully in the Lonely Planet guide, so there were maps and numbered dots to help us find our way. Sadly, in Beijing, finding a dot on a map is never as easy as it should be. The restaurant was on the south-eastern corner of a subway stop. Under normal circumstances, I have a pretty good sense of direction. The trouble is, when you travel underground for while directions cease to exist, especially with a couple of transfers. We popped up, thinking we were heading in the right direction, then questioned ourselves, turned around and tried the other way. We walked one block, but realized this seemed like the unlikely direction, so turned around and walked back to the corner and tried to get our berrings straight. This is difficult in Beijing. Street signs are not always present, the names are all long and in Chinese, so they all blur together. Just remembering Dong-something-or-whatever is likely to get a person lost. The sun is blocked
out by the smog, so even though it was evening, I still couldn't find west. It took a total of thirty minutes to find our restaurant, which was only just across the street from where we had started. It was good we left at three for an early dinner.

We were among the first patrons; they hadn't even started serving duck yet. On the left through the entrance was a wall of awards. This was preview for the great meal to come. Being one of the few people there, we had our own private waitress, who stood near our table, refilling the tea with each sip.

To hold us over until the duck was served, Mila ordered us two fantastic dishes. Shrimp in a tomato and onion sauce and another selection featuring large pieces of cod in a delicious sauce and served in a pumpkin, both were incredible. I never much liked fish, but the cod dish was delightful enough to make me a convert. It was the first time I've loved fish. If the meal ended there, I would have walked away with one of the best meals in recent memory, but there was still the duck.

The chef walked over with a perfectly browned bird, skin glistening from the mouthwatering oil that can either ruin the duck or make it it amazing. The chef sliced the duck, putting the bird in a neat pile with the skin on top. The waitress demonstrated proper eating of the duck. The crispy, yet not greasy skin is eaten by itself after being dipped in sugar. The pieces of duck meat are first dipped in the plum duck sauce and used to spread it on a thin rice crepe. An assortment of condiments are then placed on top of the duck meat. There was julliened radish and cucumber and onions, pickled ginger, roast garlic, and some other mysterious delicious pickled substance. The crepe is then folded into a small envelope. I wish I was a skilled food writer so I could describe how amazing the flavors were, but I will leave it with saying that it is worth the trouble of traveling to Beijing just to eat it. The duck fat was made into a simple, yet rich soup.
I was nearly full before the duck came, but the taste cleared more room. With the soup finished and our bellies nearly bursting, it was time for the "best" part: the head. Mila and I each picked a half the duck's head, examined it. The brain and skull wer still intact, the eye looking at us.

We flagged the waitress, "Do we eat it whole, skull and all?"

"You put it all in your mouth. It's the best part!"

Since we ordered half a duck, we wondered why we got the whole head and not our neighbors who had the other duck half. Was this a joke on the foreigners, watch them eat head? I may have benn more scared had I not eaten an entire dish of duck tongues the night before (verdict: delicious). WIth but a moment of hesitation, we both popped the half a head into our mouths. It was good mix of crunchy and chewy. It was probably the best head I've ever eaten.

We mucst have been pretty spendy customers, because were offered free mango sorbet and some big juicy red grapes. We ignored the warning against eating fresh fruit, which was a wise decision.

It was a canonical meal. Enough food to half us rolling out into the street. Food so delicious, we wished our stomaches were bottomless. And topped off with amazing, fun, engaging company to share the experience. This is the true stuff of life.

Forbidden City

Photos cannot prepare a person for the grand imperial palace. It is not really a city but it did house the empire's government and the whole of its court, who rarely left, for 500 years. All who viewed its splendor without an invitation were immediately killed.

The best way to see it (and this is based on my natural assumption that I always do things the best way) it to walk North through the southern end of Tian'en Men Square, Mao's own take on the massiveness of the palace, and head through the iconic Gate of Heavenly Peace, with ol' Mao staring right down at you the whole time. Tian'en Men Square is the largest public square in the world. This is not shocking when you see it, the place is huge! How huge you ask the computer screen? Well, almost one mile long and a quarter of a mile wide. That is a lot of concrete. I wanted a photo of me standing with my arm outstretched to stop a take that wasn't there, but I decided it would be disrespectful. Also, all the military standing around didn't seem like they had much of a sense of humor.

The palace starts after passing under the giant portrait of Mao. Although big, the portrait is the least imposing thing about the Forbidden City. Each gate is bigger tahn the one before. It is easy to feel dwarfed walking through such high doorways. Everything is massive. The photos don't show it, words can't really say it. You just have to see it.

The building up the center are huge. The spaces seem boundless. Building shouldn't be this gargantuan. After the various halls (the emperor's changing room is bigger than most houses), the central axis ends with the divine palace gardens. Towering above them is a giant sculpted rock pile, 20ft high with an inviting pavillion that was sadly closed to public.

After seeing the sites of the center, we moved to the sides. The center buildings alone took three hours to view. We decided to visit the Qing Dynasty's collection of clocks and watches. Most were gift from the imperial powers of Europe, primarily England in the 18th and 19th centuries. It also showcased the fine craftsmen of China as well. The exhibit showed the European influence of the development of clockmaking in China. Wow, I reckon seeing a gallery of clocks sounds dry. Seriously, how interesting can clock be anyway? It was awesome! The clocks were magnificent. The great clockmakers sowed great artistry in welding, wood carving, painting and mechanics. Flowers bloomed with dancing figurines inside. Composers wrote scores that played when the clocks chimed. Timepieces sat atop elephants. There were clocks so big, they had ladders. Sometimes the clocks were so extravagent, it was difficult to even find the timepieces, which could be
smaller than those on a wristwatch. It was highlight of the palace.

We walked around for a few more minutes before employees started shutting ates and herding the crowds out the door. Without realizing it, five hours had passed. We didn't even have a chance to see the myriad of small museums scattered in the outer buildings. We were leaving Beijing that day, so I wouldn't be able to add another day at the palace. Oh well. We still saw a lot.

Temple of Heaven

Another of Beijing's big three wonders of Ming architechture is the Temple of Heaven park. I wish I had seen this first. Though it is an incredible place, it seems less outstanding after seeing the summer palace, though I really don't want to downplay its majesty.

This confusian temple was where the emperor came to pray for good harvests. First he locked himself in his non-pleasure palace. Here he could avoid the royal vices such as concubines, alcohol, sweets, and extravagent meals. After the emperor's cleansing fast, an animal (an ox, I believe) was sacraficed before the prayer ritual.

Though the park is filled with quaint place, ornate pagodas, and other neat buildings, the main draw is the centerpiece, the aptly named Temple for the Prayer for Good Harvests. This massive round temple, 100ft tall, is one fo the main symbols of Beijing and a highlight of Nixon's famous China visit. The towering structure was atonishingly built without nails or vement. The ceilings have paintings worthy of Rome and towering gold columns that shoot all the way to the domed top. It is another can't miss site.

Summer Palce

The lakeside summer palace in the north end of Beijing was built as a retreat from the summer heat of the forbidden city seven miles away. Although not as grand as the imperial palace, it may be more beautiful. At its center, on top of Longevity Hill, is the magnificent Tower for the Fragrance of the Buhdda. It is grand, imposing and above all, gorgeous. Chinese imperial architechture is hard to capture in photographs. The buildings are massive, but built with insane amounts of ornate detail. Every inch is hand carved. Every panel is adorned with a different painting. One could spend hours just staring at a corner. The building pop with vibrant blues, greens, purples and reds.

The most striking aspect of the buildings are the ways they are one with the landscape and the features of the palace grounds themselves. It is almost more of a park than a place. A grand park with temples and pavilions that could only be built for emperors.

Though swarming with poeple, there are many charming corners of the grounds where the crowds avoid because they involve climbing hill or don't feature any major accomplishments of Chinese engineering. These spots are the true heart of the Summer Palace. It showcases the China great garden building skills. Vast canals filled with lillies, well placed groves of twisting cypruses, ever umbrellaing willow stretching over gentle streams, and mazelike rock gardens sittle in the shade of Longevity Hill's forests all await those willing to dedicate a few extra hours for exploration. Beijing's summer palace is more than a gem of China, but a gem of this Earth.

Great Wall Part 2

I looked down from this vantage and saw the ridiculous sections of wall of which I'd read. The wall dropped straight down hundreds of feet, only to pop up again and reach for the sky.  It dipped up and down until it wound out of sight.  Though the vies could have kept us stationed for hours, staring off across the misty mountains in either silent awe or exaggerated wows, we had to go in the other direction to rejoin the rest of the group.

Thankfully, the other direction proved no less spectacular.  The wall climbed up to the highest peak in site to bring view of dramatic yellow peaks sinking into the thick forest below.  IT seemed a little unnecessary to build a wall atop suck jagged mountains that rise straight out of the ground, but I suppose the Mongolian invaded China anyway, wall or no wall, through the sweat pouring humidity.  It speaks of their hardiness.  This is as amazing as the Chinese who managed to haul bricks to a place so high.

The rustic Jiankou section, after plunging straight down for a couple hundred hair raising meters (I even had to crab walk down parts for stability), eased into the next section, Mutianyou.  This section was a bit restored to capture more of its former grandeur.  It was less authentic, but no less incredible.  As the wall was less crumbled and had more stairs for the steep parts, the tourist and vendors were much more prevalent.  This section was quick and easy and needed ladder for only a few parts.

After a couple of kilometers, we reached the cable car down.  We gladly paid for the ride to the bottom after such a strenuous hike. The last stretch back to the car park was a gauntlet of souvenirs

"T-shirt one dollar! No? Two t-shirt one dollar"

The peddlers tossed themselves in front of us with cheap T-shirts boasting the climbing of the great wall.

I started mumbling "bu yung" incessantly to no avail. I finally made it to the bottom with only seven t-shirts, a giant panda backpack, three books of post cards, and unidentified fruit pop-sickle, and a had with a picture of Che Guevara on it. Or not

Finally we were through the gates (but not through the hawkers). This is when we collectively made the realization: where were we supposed to present these tickets for which we gave the driver money? How was the driver going to give us the tickets if we needed them to exit or enter? Nobody asked for tickets, and in a place like China, where they squeeze every yuan they can out of you, if a ticket was needed, they would have collected it. Something was definitely wrong here. We searched frantically for our driver at the bottom, unsure if he took off with our money, or would be waiting to take more. We weren't too worried: he didn't seem like the type that would run from a chance to make more money. As expected, there he was smiling and waving. He pointed to the mountains and gave a questioning thumbs up and toothy smile. I gave a thumbs up back and bared my teeth.

Mauricio wasted no time tearing into the man about the tickets. After some arguing, they both walked in separate directions, the man up the hill and Mauricio down to where were waiting near the van.

"He said he bought the tickets, but his wife threw them away."

"Why would she throw them away?" I asked.

"She threw them away because they made no sense!" yelled Julian the German.

Nobody could argue with that.

"Where did he go?" I asked.

"He went to get some tickets."

"We have already left the park!" said Julian.

"How does his brain go there?" I asked. "I mean does he really think we are that stupid?"

We all thought for a minute and realized yes, he probably did think we were that stupid. We did give him the money for the ticket that never really did make much sense.

Sitting around waiting, we weighed our options. We thought of playing hard ball, taking the ride home, but only giving him the 540 yuan difference, treating the ticket money as a deposit. We just didn't want to get arrested. There was the option of ditching the driver and hiring another, but it would have cost more. His poor wife sat impatiently, knowing we weren't being fooled; we suspected she might speak English. We had already been waiting for 30 minutes; could we turn the wife against the husband?

Mauricio approached her, presenting our deal. We'd pay a total of 95 yuan each, five more per person than the original agreement. Seeing that she would come out on top, she agreed. She picket up the phone and started talking, the talking led to yelling, until she hung up the phone in anger. "He's coming back now," she explained to Mauricio. Then there he was, fuming, tickets in his hand. He gave them to Mauricio. Mila took the tickets and after some Sherlock Holmes action observed, "These tickets are bent and used. The serial numbers aren't in sequence and he's missing two tickets."

Mauricio tore into him again about his outrageous ruse. Finally, the two of them took off towards the ticket office, which was closed, to validate their authenticity. A few minutes later, they returned.

"These Chinese, they stick together. There was a man at the office still and he says he sold him the tickets earlier today. We'll have to pay him the full amount to get home." We grumbled and moaned until we realized we'd been swindled for only $4 each.

The Great Wall

The Great Wall of China is an essential part of any Beijing itenerary.  A person can not just skip the world famous work of engineering.  I was fortunate enough to be able to meet with some couchsurfers my first day who wanted to see the very section I was drooling over, Jiankou.  It is amongst the harder parts of the wall to reach.  Many parts have been restored, with cable cars and stairs to help the weak, old, or lazy reach the top.  Others, like Jiankou, are left to decay, get overrun by plants, lose stones, and crumble.  Since these part are not so accessable or safe, there is little as far as public transportation to reach it.  To reach Jiankou, hiring a car from a nearby village is essential.

We met in the morning at the bus station to catch the one bus out to the area of the mountains, so the taxi ride would not be so expensive. Thankfully, we had with us Mauricio, a Chilean medical student who has lived in Chaina for over a year and has a keen ability to pick up languages.  As always, while standing around, we were continually hounded by people, chattering to us in Chinese, trying to sell us something.  Mauricio suddenly started talking back to one.  It is often difficult to know the tone of what is being said in Chinese, the language jumps up and down in odd ways.  Simple things can take forever, large ideas can be summed up in few words.  Friendly banter can sound angry.  I was assuming that Mauricio was finding a long way to say "bugger off", especially by the tone, but then he turned to us and asked, "How 60 yuan sound for a ride there?"  We thought carefully, weighing the ridiculously cheap bus price that would get us within 20
miles of the wall over the conveince of not having to transfer in a strange northern Beijing village.  "I guess that sounds ok," one of us answered.

He told the man no deal and rejoined the bus queue; the eight of us followed.  The man then chased him and the game was on.  They went back and forth, mostly serious but half smiling. Bargaining is tough business, but also meant to have an element of fun.  After a bit more chatting, Mauricio pitched the man's next offer, "He'll take us there and back for 50 yuan with four hours to hike."  We seemed to agree this was ok, then left the bus queue with the man.  "Mauricio, do you think we could get five hours to hike, I don't think four is enough for the section we are doing?"  He thought about it, then pitched my suggestion to the man; he didn't seem to like this new agreement.  "Let's go back to the bus then, he won't give us what we want."

The nine of us turned back and walked once again to the back of the giant bus queue.  Within in a minute, the man was back at it.  Watching the game was fascinating. Neither side could give away any weakness and none of us knew what the two of them were saying.  The man wanted the sale; we didn't want to take the bus which would only allow us three hours at most to hike.  Finally, Mauricio made a sleeping gesture, then chopped his hand across the air, the Chinese signal for no deal.  So, it was the bus for us.

We were finally getting close once again to the bus, when the man came back with what must have been his final offer.

Mauricio translated, "45 yuan each way, five hours of hiking?"

"Lets do it!" I said.

Mauricio gave the thumbs up and we left the line and went with the man for good.  The transaction to nearly 20 minutes.

"What did you tell him in the end?" I asked.

"He told me that if we go with him, he could get us there much faster than the bus, so I told him I was tired and needed extra time to sleep." 

He's a clever guy that Chilean.

The driver was silent and calm as he weaved in and out of traffic, passed on the shoulder, ran red lights, cut off every vehicle smaller than his car for the whole 90 minute drive.  Mauricio somehow was no longer tired, teaching Mila and I essential Chinese words.  The smog and crowds faded into cornfields and out of the cornfield rose the mountains, steep and jagged.  Soon we were at their base in a tiny village.

We all gather by a nut market as Mauricio discussed the plan with the driver.  "He said it is a one hour walk to the wall, then we can hike for three hours and come back down to the village."

"What if we want to go further; someplace down the line?" I asked.

Mauricio asked the man and seemed quite annoyed that he'd have to drive to the next village, but agreed.  He also explained that we'd need tickets down the line.  Somehow, the driver had some sort of connection that would allow him to buy the tickets at a 10 yuan discount.  This sounded like a good deal, so we coughed up 30 yuan each.  This is the moment we lost the game.  He smiled and pointed us on our way.

The trail shop immediately upward and continued this way for two hours.  We had a list of turns to take at each fork, but we soon stopped looking; all trails led up.  I was glad I spent months training for my upcoming Nepal hiking, because this was a real hike.  We were all quite fit, but a young German girl was allergic to plants, so this slowed us down a bit.  We all chugged our water in the hot Chinese humidity and we were getting worried that we'd had brought enough.  We assumed there might be some energetic peddler selling beer and water at the top; there is no marketing niche left untouched in this country.  The driver told us it would take one hour to reach the top and after two, we'd yet to reach the wall.  If we had not seen the thin grey line slicing through the mountains' lush green trees, we might have thought the wall a myth.  The German girl was slowly getting worse and worse as we pushed through the bush.  Our stamina faded as we
realized a healthy heart has its limits.  The water in our bottles were dwindling.  Suddenly throught the thick foreign folliage, we saw brick.  There before us was the Great Wall.

We ran to the top of the first crumbled tower and saw the spectacular views of the mountains to one side and the now tiny village we had departed on the other. The wall twisted and turned up and down the peaks of the mountains.

Half wanted to rest, but I and four others pushed on to a nearby tower higher up the mountain in the opposite direction of our destination. Walking along the wall proved much easier than the hike to it and it only took a few minutes to reach the distant tower. Up the next ridge was another tower. We hiked to the next one as well, and as expected, there was a tiny enterprising chinese man selling beer and water.

Acculturization

When travelling to a new land, especially one very different from your own, a person feels a great need to fit in, even when such a thing is completely impossible. The flight to Beijing was about 2/3 white Americans and 1/3 chinese, roughly. The dinner meal came out a few hours into the flight, too late to be an American supper, yet too early to be a Chinese lunch. My options were slimy chicken with potatoes or weird brown beef with rice. After seeing my neighbors choose the beef, I followed suit; it looked edible enough. On the tray was a bunch of dim sum like cups with shrimp and noodles, a dinner roll, crackers and cheese, a simple romaine salad and the aforementioned beef and rice. It was all a pretty good equal mix of the two different food traditions.

On the tray were two choices of eating utensils: chopsticks and a fork and knife set. I figured since the beef tipped my meal in favor of being more Chinese and I'd need to get used to it anyway, I chose to eat with the chopsticks. Now, chopsticks are old hat for me. My staple quick meal at home is vegetable stirfry and a long ago bought a nice set of chopsticks for dinner parties. This seemed to be a bit of crash course, however, for many of the westerners surrounding me.

"Susan!" I heard the woman behind, voice obscured by food, giggles, and thick Carolina accent, "Try holding one slightly higher than the other, that seems to work for me."

This prompted me to stretch my legs and and have a scope at the people of the plane. Every American had chopsticks in hand, eating with a widely varrying level of proficiency. That's when I noticed that every Asian on the plane was eating peacefully and simply with forks. Was this is a careful mass effort by everyone on the plane to pander to the culture of the other, or was this proof of American's inability to do things in a practical manner. I mean really, who eats a salad coated in ranch dressing with chopsticks?

Safe in China

I have arrived safely in Beijing. More to come.