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Published: February 28th 2012
Ok, I’m not going to lie, I just can’t do that to you readers; this is a long one. And what's more, there are a LOT of photos to flick through -some are on the next page so don't miss them! So, put the kettle on -or better still crack open a can and get yourselves comfy. Eyes down and looking.
China Part Two: A Country Like No Other Now then, where were we? Ah yes, Hong Kong. So on Boxing Day we got our passports stamped with ‘departed’ by the friendly and English speaking Hong Kong customs officers, and then essentially struggled to get back into China with the aggressive, no nonsense Chinese customs officers. “Where you go in China” he barked at me. Note the absence of the question mark. This was an order.
“Erm, Yangshou, Shanghai, Chengdu…” (he repeated each place after me, in the way they were supposed to be pronounced) “… Xi’an and Beijing.” I finished proudly. The places always sounded better said out loud.
“Where you stay, ”he barked again.
Oh. Let’s see.
“Erm, where am I staying? Erm, well, I don’t know yet.”
Blank face.
“Where you stay in China”
Oh ok, we’re back here again.
“Tonight, I stay in Yangshou” I said, in my best TEFL graded language. I was technically lying, we would take an overnight bus tonight to Yangshou, but I thought it best not to explain that I was actually sleeping on a bus, so as not to confuse the nice, barking, angry man in to thinking that I was some kind of bus-hopping, gypsy hitchhiker. Which actually, I suppose I kind of was. Am. Anyway…
“You stay Yangshou?” We were getting somewhere, and there was a definite question intonation so I nodded a definite yes. “Name hotel”, he barked again. Vicious little thing he was, if he carried on like this I thought, he might end up being eaten, they’re partial to a bit of K9 over here.
“Ok, listen pal, I’m a backpacker, I don’t even know if I’m going to sleep tonight, let alone where I will be able to lay my greasy little head, but it will probably be in some hellishly cold, grot-hole hostel, totally dissimilar to the most agreeable establishment I have recently vacated
in Hong Kong. Now let me in.” I didn’t say. But I thought it. Perhaps he was a telepathic barking dog and heard my thoughts, as soon after he’d had a few more suspecting pulls at the plastic seal on my passport, I was back in. This was a quick reminder that things take much longer in China; things are more challenging. Through customs and into the border town of Shenzen and there was the familiar China chaos; people pushing and shoving right through the personal space of anyone in their path, the sweet smell of street noodles and dumplings and the feeling of having no clue whatsoever as to how you would find a bus station, buy a ticket or find the correct bus. It truly was great to be back.
Waking up in Yangshou and you’d have thought we were in the Artic. Not because of the outside temperature you understand, although that was just below freezing, but because the aircon on the bus had seemingly been set to ‘glacial’ during the night. Wiping away the icicles, we were pleased to see that Yangshou was really quite beautiful: Huge limestone hills and cliffs jutting out of the
ground at irregular intervals, in and around both the centre and the outskirts of the town, as if someone had airlifted-in some Lord of the Rings scenery and decided to plonk it in the middle of an otherwise ordinary parochial Chinese town. It was rather strange, but somehow it worked; and more importantly, as with a lot of things in China, it’s a strangeness that just wouldn’t work anywhere else. The country is full of strange contradictions that don’t quite sit right and frown-inducing juxtapositions that defy logic, but something inherently…well, Chinese, ensures that they just kind of work. You’ll have to go to see what I’m getting at readers, but in short, China is a bizarre place.
We rode our hired bikes along the river and marveled at the random array of these memorable limestone mounds that lined our cycle route. Then it all happened again. Mike ‘the superstar’ was back. It started with a bike stop on a scenic bridge for a reflection shot (see pic), and soon I was surrounded by cycling Chinitos (mainly Chinitas -the female version of Chinitos) plus a couple of guys, including one who was very forward and
feely, who I guessed was gay. So they began by giggling and snapping away with their cameras and phones, and then came the big run for the group shot with the Westerner. I was perplexed, and not a little freaked out that this was happening again, so I just had to ask: “Sorry guys, but can I ask – why do you want a photo with me?” I enquired, in a genuine and attempted-humble tone.
“You are so handsome” said one girl, “Yes so so handsome” giggled her friend. Were they taking the piss? I wondered. And then it came from the gay guy: “You are very handsome,” he said, “And very… high.” High? Sorry?
“High?!” I asked, incredulously.
“Yes! Very high! You very high. We very small.” Ah TALL! It was the height! But I’m only five foot ten, I thought.
“Hello! Where you from?” one girl chirped up from the back.
“England” I replied, to a squealed chorus (and I mean chorus) of “ENGLAND!!!! Aaaaaiiiiiiii!”
“One more photo ok?” said Mr. Gay, and who was I to argue? They even roped Marta in for a picture too (pulling her away
from her fits of laughter), and even the ‘too cool for school’ guys at the back took a couple of snaps of the “very beautiful and very high” Spanish girl. As Marta thanked them, now as embarrassed as me at being dragged into the limelight, she managed to take one last shot of me standing with my posse of adoring Chinitos; the newly-crowned ‘high and handsome one’, putting the feelings of absolute bafflement to one side and embracing the new found fame. I decided to copy the ‘peace’ sign that the girls had taught me and yes readers, I went for the big cheesy smile (see pics). And with that, off they cycled, wooping and waving as they pedalled. I told you, China is a bizarre place.
Without letting my celebrity status go to my head, we were off to the nearest airport; we knew that sooner or later the sheer size of China would get the better of us, and we hopped on a low-cost internal flight. The end of 2011 was nigh, and we were heading for Shanghai. Poetry too readers, I do spoil you.
I think the best way to describe Shanghai is to say
that it is a rather good example of the aforementioned strange Chinese juxtapositions. It swaggers along as a kind of Westernised, neon-charged, capitalist-crazy city and yet somehow, at the same time it’s distinctly Chinese and is steeped in historical significance, and again, somehow the mismatch works. We loved it: We took in the Shanghai of old at the very pretty and very Chinese YuYuan gardens, where curling tiled roofs stand proudly in front of the modern skyscrapers behind (see pic) and we swanned along The Bund –where the birth of East-West trade began –pretty cool. Then of course we took our obligatory shots along The Bund, with the super-future Shanghai skyline behind us, and then it happened again –this time an actual bus load of Chinitos descended upon me and requested a photo –check out the pic; you can just about make me out at the back, as the remainder of the bus load who weren’t in the photo snapped away. Tough life as a celeb you know.
Then, as midnight fast approached, we decided to make it a New Year’s Eve to remember and glided to the top of Century Avenue Tower -the highest observation deck in the
world- a fact providing a good opportunity for China to take a swipe at the West with their propaganda-filled info boards showing the tower dwarfing the Empire State Building in very unrealistic proportions. It was some view from the top, although as the ‘height fanny’ that I am, I didn’t much appreciate the glass floors, but spotting dot-like people and cars below all the neon from the 400-odd metre-high tower was a great way to spend the early evening. Then, later, we bought a few tinnies and headed down to The Bund for the New Year Celebrations. We stood by the Town Hall clock with miliones y miliones de Chinitos and at twelve midnight, we were treated to some strange ‘only in China’ lazer show, projected onto the building and clock face. Nothing of any significance you understand, but instead loads of children’s ball-park coloured balls cascading down the façade of the building. This is the country that invented fireworks readers, but who can’t spare a few for ‘Western’ New Year. Unbelievable Jeff. Still, it made for an entertaining change –and of course, the locals snapped their Canons and Nikons at us white Westerners celebrating at midnight with
cans of lager, as the space age skyline behind us lit up brightly with Happy New (neon) Year messages.
After a New Year’s Day stroll we were jetting off again, this time across the country and further north to Chengdu; a city famous for pandas and parks. We thought it best to sample both. The morning at the Giant Panda Breeding and Research Centre was really special. Apart from the fact that we both decided that we actually want a panda as they are just so cool; so human-like and from my point of view, brilliantly lazy and lay-about, Marta then went one step further and paid extra to hug one. Not content with a black-eyed Teessider to hug, she went for it with her new furry friend, as Mrs Panda sat in her own chair, munching on an apple as people cooed at her. Just so cute. See the pictures below.
In fact, with Chengdu in general, the pictures really do tell the story better than I can–check them out for yourself. There are some priceless panda pictures yes, but there are some pretty park photos to be marveled at too. Where else but in
China would you find a modest-sized park lined with lakeside traditional tea houses and not only a plethora of brilliantly-translated Chinese-to-English signs, but an amazing array of open-to-all public activities. These weren’t council-organised festivities though, oh no, these were just total strangers gathering in a park on a regular Sunday, to join in with group line dancing, open-air karaoke, tai chi dancing and park aerobics, oh and a very camp makeshift catwalk. Yes that’s right, a cobbled-together ‘anyone can strut’ fashion show on a rag of red ‘carpet’ in the middle of the park. China really is a country like no other on Earth.
Even after staring at the locals in the park as much as they were staring at us, we still had time for a delicious lunch in a local dumpling place; Chengdu’s speciality. Check out the pics of Marta (note the height difference) learning how to make the dumplings with the family and then the lovely ladies enjoying their own creations. Great grub, and all for 50p a pop.
Our journey out of Chengdu to Xi’an was an overnight one -and a long one- 20 hours no less, on a train. It sounds much worse
than it is I promise, although we struggled to get used to the fact that everyone smokes on the train (yuk). What we did enjoy though, was watching most of the guards and conductors try to bump up their salaries by gaining cash-in-hand commission for flogging (probably knocked off) tat, sorry goods. Goods of all descriptions too –sold out of personal shopping baskets as they passed through the carriage; toys, medicines, socks, phone covers, camera tripods. Imagine it: “All tickets and passes please… And errr, does anyone need any iPhone covers? Snuggle socks? Wind up miniature helicopters? No? Last chance for some ripped off headache pills?” It makes for an interesting, if totally bizarre 20 hour journey, besides, don’t forget you’re asleep for most of that time.
But in general train travel in China isn’t so bad, especially when you make friends with your new ‘room mates’ in your cozy sleeper compartment. We made instant friends just by being tall (Western legs being too long for the Chinese bunk beds brought hilarity), being Western in general (“England? Spain? Ooohhhh! Good good!”), and then by producing two pot noodles from our backpacks and using the carriage-provided urns of
hot water to make ourselves a backpacker-style local dinner: “Ooooohhhhh! Yes! Ver ver ver nice!” The Chinitos lapped it up. Literally. Now, don’t get me wrong, the food (including their own brands of pot noodle) is so good in China, but my goodness, the noises they make as they slurp, ram, wedge, gargle and suck any and every kind of food into their mouths is truly something to behold. But, we had been informed that it’s a cultural thing; the more noises you make, the more you’re telling people (anyone who’s within 5 metres, which in China, is a lot of people) or indeed the chef, how much you’re enjoying the food. Still, with noodles, it must be said, it’s a particularly revolting sound. Sluuuuuurp, suck suck, sluuuuuurp.
Xi’an is big -it’s at the heart of Shanxxi province which has a population of 37 million, it’s grey and a little polluted, it’s a little dirty and of course it’s hugely overpopulated, but we were getting used to all of that by now. Except Xi’an is a wee bit different as it retains some rather nice reminders of the past; a most attractive Bell Tower in the centre of town
(which is now sadly little more than an elaborate roundabout; see pic), and the majestic medieval city walls that form a perfect square around the CBD are really quite impressive. See the arty pic of Miss Rodriguez walking the walls in the morning mist. Or was it smog? But of course, the main reason why tourists and Chinese patriots head here is for the incredible archaeology that dates way waaaaay back to the Qin dynasty about 2000 years ago (stay with me readers) when, basically, the then Emperor became the first fella to unify China as a collection of provinces and called it… ‘China’. Neat eh? And hence the patriotic pilgrimage. However, besides that claim to fame, when he died he took a rather curious secret to his grave. During his rule, he’d had the power to build his own army. Made out of terracotta. Out of all the guidebooks, brochures and pikey signs held by fake tour guides, none of the photos or words can prepare you for the Kings Cross Station-sized hangar housing thousands of life-sized, hand-carved soldiers, horses and chariots, all standing there, ready for battle, like ancient ghosts in long military lines. It’s incredible, and I
really mean that. By far the most amazing thing, even more amazing than the power he must have had, even more than the level of craft and skills his artists and sculptors clearly had, and the details that are so visible (facial expressions, features and uniforms –no two men are the same) –more amazing than all of that is that is that the in-house archaeologists are still finding them. Since a local farmer found a few bits of pot while digging a well in his field the 1970s, they’ve been digging, finding, brushing, restoring and rebuilding these figures ever since. Thirty-odd years on and the vast aircraft hangar is only still half full of these 2000 year old crafted warriors; there are hundreds more to be found and brought back to life that are currently in pieces underneath the dust in the other half. It got a big wow from us anyway.
After our day at the warriors, we ate 10m-long noodles (random) –see pic below, and were getting very lost on our way home on the Xi’an metro system when two English-studying, cute-as-can-be Chinese lasses came to our rescue –we loved them, and Marta
got a photo with them to prove it. They took ones of us too, of course. Pic attached below.
Need another cuppa yet? Tea break! Beijing next, stay with me -we’re nearly there readers!
Stepping off yet another night train into the freezing morning air in Beijing, the warmth of our pot noodles from the night before had long gone. Apparently, there are 9 million bicycles in Beijing, I didn’t count them all, but I did see approximately 16 million people in just one of the city’s train stations. I think.
We caught a bus (relatively easily by China’s standards) to Tiananmen, and as we hopped off on to the frosty pavement we could be under no doubt that we were in the capital city of China. Saying that Tiananmen Square is the biggest open public space in the world does no justice whatsoever to its size; it could accommodate four or five football pitches with ease, instead though, it accommodates thousands of happy-snapping Chinese tourists and some slightly aggressive, but painfully young-looking soldiers. So the sheer size of the thing, plus the fact that it’s flanked by the National Museum and the political centre of one
of the most politically fascinating countries in the world –the Communist Party Headquarters, is really only the beginning to its historical intrigue. At one end is the Forbidden City –the ancient walled citadel of the Ming Dynasty, and then at the opposite end is the mausoleum housing Chairman Mao, whose ubiquitous face still proudly looks over Tiananmen from the Gate of Heavenly Peace (see pic attached), just as he did when declaring China a ‘People’s Republic’ in 1949, when one imagines the square would have been teeming with new patriots; communist disciples and hundreds of thousands of his (Red) People’s Liberation Army troops. I said it was a big square didn’t I? Anyway, as we were tourists after all, we duly tripped ‘round the necessary sites over a few days: Namely the Forbidden City, the Summer Palace and of course, the Great Wall.
Back in the day, the Forbidden City, as the name suggests, was out of bounds to peasants. The penalty for illegal entry in the year 1400-and-summat, would’ve been death, but today the damage for us two peasants was a mere ten quid, and inside, rather than trying to escape death, our main problem was trying to
escape the hordes of bus loads and tour groups of Canon-clicking nationalist Chinitos. Quite a skill, learning to frame them out of photos inside, and indeed at the other main tourist attractions; judge for yourself how we got on by clicking on the photos I’ve included below.
Our visit to the Summer Palace was an irony if ever there was one –the lovely warm name of the place was a tease –this was so far removed from summer it was almost untrue; it was an absolute winter wonderland. And we have attempted to convey just how gorgeous the light was, how the lake was frozen solid enough for natural ice skating, how the silhouettes of temples and bridges stood prominently under the clear winter skies, in our selection of photos from our day inside the most stunningly pretty place. We’ve tried, but you’ll have to go to see it for yourselves.
That night we ate some lip-smackingly-tasty Peking duck in Peking (Beijing’s former name of course) complete with pancakes, spring onions and hoi sin sauce -all much the same as the familiar Chinese takeaway back home; but with a subtle difference. Here they carve the duck at your
table, including chopping off each and every bit before your eyes: Including the head. And the brain. Yes readers, included below is the pictorial evidence of me eating duck brain (it tasted like a very sticky, bitter pate); they eat everything in China -bones, brains, eyes, feet, every part of every animal. Most resourceful I say, although I drew the line at the bugs, insects, worms, deep fried dog-on-a stick and finally, the sheep’s penis, all of which was for sale at the local market. See pic below. Eeeeiiiiuuuwww.
Perhaps the most exciting thing about Beijing though, was the prospect of meeting up with my fellow English teacher mate John, who’s been teaching in Hengshui (three hours south of Beijing) for six months or so. John was as jovial and as entertaining as ever, with a ‘Westerner in China’ anecdote at every turn, and he proved the perfect tour guide, as well as duly filling in the proverbial TEFL gaps in our Mandarin and Chinese history knowledge. It was great to see him, although I think the barmaid (pictured with us below, and yes we are BEHIND the bar at that point) was just a little sick of us
by the end of the week. The Westlife and Oasis karaoke was bad, but the Chinese ‘medicinal wine’ shots were truly dreadful. Hic.
John was our giddy guide for perhaps the biggest to-be-ticked box on any trip to China –the Great Wall. We were lucky enough to have beautiful light and winter sunshine for our tough climb up, and steady meander along, one of the biggest engineering achievements in history. But in truth, once you sweep aside the ‘you can see it from space’ hyperbole and the obvious beauty of the landscape and the fact that they managed to build it across a mountain range at all, you start to wonder…why? And it’s then that you start to realise just how ridiculous the whole thing is. It’s another grand old frown on the face of China; another riddle to try to fathom. Built to keep the Mongolians, or any other potential invaders, out of China, the wall is huge, and long and painstakingly meticulous, but taking a step back while you’re there (not literally or else you’d fall a long way) can help you view the bigger picture, and it left me scratching my head a bit. Because, and
this may be a little controversial readers, but for me, what is essentially a very impressive structure and a very extravagant protection measure is, to my mind, absolutely pointless. I mean, I know it’s pointless now in this day and age, but I mean it was pointless then, and my rationale is this: If an army is skilled enough, and cunning enough, and clever enough, and dexterous enough to climb and scale a blooming great big high mountain to invade your country, do you really think that a 12 foot wall is going to cause them much of a problem? That’s all I’m saying. We loved our walk along one of the Wonders of the World none the less, and I think the pictures prove it.
So, how to sum up our time in China? Well this was a country that in many ways I just couldn’t understand no matter how hard I tried; neither of us could. This is a country that still has the death penalty, that is a strict communist dictatorship, that is oppressive, that still insists on using chopsticks when they are fully aware that the knife and fork
have been invented. It truly is an enigma on the grandest scale. But once I stopped trying to understand it, I actually loved it. You see, with such a huge enigma, it’s a waste of energy trying to fathom it. China is unfathomable, and therein lies its charm.
China made us laugh every day we were there; it also actually made us cry with frustration. It made us tear our hair out, go “wow” at the scenery and frown profusely at the rules, and even more at the absolute conformity of the communist-led locals. It made us hugely insecure as we were closely watched as visiting Westerners, then it quickly crowned us as rather embarrassed temporary celebrities. It was disorganized, the cities were filthy, people pushed and shoved and shouted and stared and spat on the ground on every street in every city. But then on 14
th January 2012, as we left China, we couldn’t quite describe the rather fond affinity we had formed with it, and the sentimentality we felt for it. Us and China, we had bonded.
At times we would’ve jumped at the chance to be out; to be saved the
hassle, to avoid the staring and pushing when you don’t want it, to check in somewhere quickly, or book a bus or train with no troubles, to communicate easily, to write something down using the English alphabet and have someone understand it, to read a menu and know what you’re ordering, to have a clean street and clean hostel bathroom, to count to ten on your hands and not to be met by a blank face, to pay for something in pharmacies and supermarkets and be sure it’s not a repackaged fake…the list goes on. But somehow, when we left all this behind, we wanted to go back. We actually missed it.
The day we spent in Singapore as our stop-off between China and Australia was so well ordered, so clean, so quiet. People didn’t push and shout, they didn’t smoke on trains, they didn’t slurp their food, they didn’t stare at us and they could understand us, and what’s more they spoke commendable English. And this is nothing against Singapore which was a most lovely and agreeable place, but it just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t intriguing, there was no ‘expect the unexpected’ feeling. It wasn’t entertaining either;
in fact, it was all a bit boring. It was uneventful and normal, it was a bit too familiar and a bit too… easy. Above all, it wasn’t China.
Next it was Destination Down Under… For our tales from Australia and beyond… Watch this space.
Until next time,
Mike x
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Ainhoa
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wow....Mike Pitt...please sign me an autograph!!!! =) looove the bears!!!!!!!!!!!!