Dumplings and Warriors - Xi'an

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Night Moves

Although Shanghai was frustrating, overall we enjoyed our stay there. Chongqing, Wu Han, and the Yangtze tour in between the two were increasingly more difficult. I also felt as though there were no significant differences between CQ and Wu Han. Most of the architecture was new, tall, and boring, crisscrossed with highways and crowded city streets. I was putting a lot of faith into Xi’an. I had wanted to see the city’s star attraction, the Terracotta Warriors, for some time. There was a famous dumpling restaurant I wanted to try. I was a little nervous, though, because we would be arriving in the city after our first overnight train of the trip, and I had no idea what to expect.

The train station in Wu Han had a lot to be desired. I heard from one of the Birds on our cruise about the toilets at the train stations they have gone through and considering the condition of the fancier “soft seat” waiting room at the station, I figured I would wait for the train. As we walked the platform and passed the various cars I became immediately grateful we reserved soft sleeper. We passed the hard sleeper train cars - six beds to a bunk, three on either side, with the entire bunk area open to the hallway. No privacy or quiet expected. The soft sleeper train cars had four beds to a bunk, with a door to the hallway that closed and locked. We received a tip to reserve the lower bunks for extra comfort and ease. We had no companions for our upper bunk for the first two hours or so of our 12 hour ride to Xi’an, so it was pretty peaceful. When they finally boarded, we were rather lucky with a young couple, or possibly brother and sister, who boarded, tried to keep quiet, and went to bed immediately. The bed was pretty comfortable with a sheet, duvet, and pillow. It was not the best sleep ever, but was certainly sufficient. Okay, so far our arrival in Xi’an was working out okay.

Then, we exited the train station into mass pandemonium. We wanted to immediately purchase our train tickets to Beijing because the route was one of the most popular in the country. As we were trying to figure out the various ticket lines, someone who spoke very good English approached to try to help. Eric gave me a signal to ignore her and we started walking away. He saw her make a beeline to us when we departed the train station and she followed us all over the outside of the station. Usually people like this want to be “friendly” and “help” and then ask for money for their troubles. We were onto her. We eventually located the ticket lines but they were so long that the last thing we wanted to do was stand in crazy long lines to get to the front and find out they did not speak English. Instead, we wound our way through the throngs of people to find a cab.

We gave the cab driver the name of our hotel and address written in Chinese and he seemed to know where he was going. He wound his way through Xi’an, through some back streets as well as the main intersection with the famous Bell and Drum Towers. I loved it! The architecture was remarkable, even if most of it was built new to look old, I did not care. At this point I was happy to be a tourist with a little bit of suspended disbelief. Xi’an is a walled city as well, and as we passed the towers and made our way to the west gate of the original city, we wondered if our driver knew where he was going. Eric tried to get him to look at the address again, and eventually a few kilometers outside of the old city walls, the driver started to slow down, almost to the point of pulling over. Eric prodded enough that the driver agreed to call the hotel to confirm the address, and of course, as soon as he did we realized the hotel was another block ahead on the opposite side of the road. We arrived in Xi’an.

After checking in, having breakfast, showering, and brushing our teeth, we immediately inquired about train tickets. We were told the hotel did not book train tickets but that there was an office across the street. One of the bellmen wrote down for us in Mandarin exactly what we needed, but he was afraid that would not be sufficient, so he sent an employee with us across the street to purchase the tickets. Of course, the train we wanted was booked, so we extended our stay in Xi’an for another day to take a train that had seats available. I did not mind staying the extra day because of what I saw in Xi’an, I liked it. After receiving our tickets, and adjusting our hotel reservations in both Xi’an and Beijing, we were finally ready to explore a city that was falling all over itself for tourist dollars. I was expecting easy transport and English menus. I hoped I would not be disappointed.

Dumpling City

My first priority on the food front was a full on dumpling attack at De Fa Chang. It was listed in the Lonely Planet we borrowed, and we had seen the dumplings on a few travel shows. It is just across the road from the Bell Tower, in the heart of the tourism area, above a Haagen Das and a Starbucks, naturally. It is famous for its dumpling banquets. We figured famous restaurant meant English menu. Well, it had pretty darn good dumplings but no English menu. There were four types of dumplings listed on a Chinese menu behind a counter. One girl at the counter spoke English and quickly gave us the translation, which we immediately forgot because they were too similar and she spoke too quick. They were pork and veggie, pork and mushroom, seafood and pork, and pork and something else, all boiled. Then, there was one steamed pork dumpling. Feeling pretty hungry we ordered two of the boiled ones, but not sure which, plus an ordered of steamed. With some chili paste and soy sauce for dipping they were pretty darn tasty. But, trying to remember what was on the TV and in the book, I specifically remembered the word “banquet” and this just did not qualify.

On another late afternoon we investigated the other side of De Fa Chang, seeing if there was a second floor. There was, and that must be where the banquet was served, but it was closed. We had one more shot for lunch on our last day. We jumped on the bus to the restaurant. We entered the extremely busy and boisterous restaurant, with white table cloths and fancier service, much different than the counter service downstairs. A wedding reception was even taking place there. I finally got my banquet. It was a little pricy, about $13 a person. The menu was not in English, but she clearly explained the price was per person and included chicken, pork, vegetable, and duck dumplings. We went for it. The first course was two fried vegetable dumplings and two pastry-like dumplings with lotus bean paste inside. The server explained the lotus dumplings were “dessert” and that we should not use soy sauce. I was not sure why they were the first course, but they were good. Then, they brought out a hot pot with soup inside and dumped about ten of the tiniest chicken dumplings in to cook. Also tasty. Then, we sat, for awhile; and it was hot, and Eric was losing patience. Finally, they brought out three bamboo steamer baskets each with 10 petite dumplings. This was what I was waiting for. They presented two of each type of dumpling - all different colors and shapes - veggie, walnut (our favorite, I think because it was so different), tomato, spicy chicken, etc. Two were shaped like little ducks with two red eyes, and two shaped like pandas (not sure what was inside those). They were good, but not the best we have had to date (Din Tai Fung in Singapore!). To finish, they brought out one bowl of the boiled dumplings like they have at the counter downstairs. It was interesting. We could have upgraded to larger banquets with more variety and even more dumplings shaped like various animals. They were on display on the first floor, some shaped like turtles, pigs, and other animals. I think the banquet was more of a kitsch factor than anything else, but I fell hook, line, and sinker. I like mini dumplings shaped like animals; I mean, who can say no to that?

Fragile Fry the Corn

On our first night, we made our way to dinner at the first restaurant down the street from the hotel. We were told the menu was not in English but that they would have pictures; that’s a start and better than it has been elsewhere. We sat in the first table in the downstairs dining room, a smoke filled but air conditioned space. The menu had no pictures was handwritten in English, translated from the Chinese characters. It was a limited menu, most likely limited to dishes that white people would like. Things started to make sense with the lack of the ability for the Chinese employees at hotels to translate into English; maybe it just does not translate. I first ordered fried spareribs, not too crazy. I ordered some “in the heat vegetables” and “eggplant in the soft juice in the closed.” I was not sure what exactly either was, but was hoping for spicy vegetables and some eggplant. We were then told the in the heat vegetables were no more. So, we ordered ”fragile fry the corn.” I was hoping and praying this would be like the lightly fried corn we had in Hanoi with Rad. This meal was incredible. The eggplant was deep fried in a tempura batter and then smothered in a tangy and spicy sauce. The fried corn was the same as the lightly fried, perfectly tender corn we had in Hanoi. Now that we have had it a few times, I don’t understand why we have not seen it in the US, either in Vietnamese or Chinese restaurants. Frankly, I would eat this corn from a bag with a beer at Wrigley. It was an absolutely perfect meal, even if it came with some strange translations.

The following night we ordered the same - eggplant and corn, without the spareribs. We also ordered the “in the heat vegetables,” but we were very disappointed. It was green leafy lettuce smothered with a strange, spicy, peanut sauce. We ate a little of it, but when the eggplant and corn arrived we forgot the vegetables even existed. On our way out of the restaurant we saw someone with crispy fried chicken bites with chili, just like we get in Chinatown Chicago. We had our girl show us in the menu what the chicken was called. So, the next night, we ordered the “fragrant in the hot chicken.” That night when we walked into the restaurant, there was only one other table there. It was more empty than the prior nights because we did not arrive until 9:30. The other table had a small plate of sliced red and green chilis mixed with some sort of meat. We ordered the chilis, the chicken, plus the eggplant once again. The fragrant hot chicken was very crunchy and tasty, but not too spicy. Then, the plate of sliced chili peppers arrived. Oh Lordy.

Eric and I love spicy food, as even a cursory review of prior blog entries will demonstrate. This plate of sliced chili peppers made us do a review of the spicy food that we have had during our trip. We have not had many spicy dishes that caused us a great pain without us controlling the level of spice. Eric made some kick ass Thai red curry in Phuket that was spicy enough to make Kelly practically cry. In Hoi An, Vietnam, I went a little overboard on the chili additions to my pho with Madame Pho. This was during my solo lunch so I was left teary eyed and practically crying at a table by myself. Our recent hot pot in Chongqing was up there on the list of the spiciest foods. Our spicy rice noodle soup in Hong Kong was definitely the spiciest thing we have had to date, but that was based on our request to make it spicy (I think we chose medium very spicy, number 6 on a spicy scale topping out at 9). We asked a seafood guy in Singapore to make us the spiciest shrimp he could, and Eric almost became belligerent in his complaints that it was not spicy at all. Even outside of the trip, there has only been one dish I have ever ordered that was too spicy for me to eat - a chili relleno at a Mexican restaurant in Lakeview in Chicago. Now, I am beginning to think there is just something wrong with us.

When we walked in the restaurant and saw the table with the chili peppers, a Chinese woman was sweating profusely and padding her forehead with a napkin. We thought, “We have finally met our match.” Maybe we have gone too far to the dark side. Now, the chilis were tasty, tangy, spicy, etc. They left our lips tingling when we finished. But, not the spiciest thing we have eaten. Maybe we have burned off our taste buds, and who knows whether we have any stomach lining left. But, in the mean time, I am looking for suggestions for spicy food items we have not eaten. I am ready for more of a challenge.

Warriors, Towers, and “Traditional” Architecture

The main tourist spots in Xi’an are the historic Bell and Drum Towers, the wall surrounding the city, and the Terracotta Warriors. During our first day we walked around the area surrounding the towers. We scaled to the top of the Bell Tower and admired the view of the sprawling city below. I am assuming the current format of the city has changed much since earlier times. Currently, the two main roads intersecting at the Bell Tower would rival any tree lined wide boulevard in Paris, with shopping galore as well. We walked back from the Bell Tower in the direction of our hotel looking for a tea house for some afternoon tea. This has been the hardest thing to do during our stay in China. I read that tea houses are starting to make a comeback after losing popularity, but most of the newer places resemble Starbucks more than a place to sip Chinese tea. We saw a large hotel building just off the main intersection that advertised a café, with tea, on the 4th floor. It also advertised foot and body massage. We took the elevator to the 4th floor and ended up in the hall way of the hotel, with rooms on either side. We followed the arrows to the café, and as we did things became a lot more sketchy, with massage ads showing pictures of hotel rooms with glass showers. So, we hightailed it out of there real quick. After a few more tries to find tea, mostly with advertisements to the 4th floor, we gave up and we went back to the hotel.

We also walked through the Muslim Quarter, just behind the Drum Tower and the main street. It was a typical market area, loaded to the brim with souvenir stalls for the tourists. The best part was that the streets were tree lined providing shade and a decent breeze. We stopped at a dumpling shop and ordered two kinds of dumplings - vegetable and beef. I made the mistake of trying to order pork and was reminded we were in the Muslim Quarter; I just totally forgot. They were not the best dumplings by any stretch, which prompted Eric to opine “Why bother with making a dumpling if it is not going to be pork?”

After the Muslim Quarter we wandered over to the Drum Tower. We were just in time to listen to the free traditional music performance. There were several young people dressed in costume beating various drums to create music. It was pleasant, but highlighted something we have noticed throughout China. In all of the tourist sites we have been to and all of the pictures we have seen taken in China, no one smiles for their photos. Almost everyone has a serious and prim look on their face, almost like they are afraid the government will see them happy. Not a single drum performer cracked even a little smile during the twenty minute routine, even when they took their final bow. Bizarre.

The highlight of our stay in Xi’an landed us on a one hour bus ride from the train station into the suburbs of the city. In 1974, a group of farmers in the countryside were digging a well and came across something odd. Buried in the ground were remnants of large warriors - made of terracotta. Excavation continues, but in four excavation sites it is estimated that a total of 8,000 warriors lay beneath the ground, along with horses and chariots. The warriors were built around 200 BC to an Emperor who, in my mind, was a little off his rocker. Similar to the Egyptian pharaohs who were buried with various funerary art to have during their afterlife, this emperor had approximately 70,000 workers over many years create the 8,000 warriors, supposedly each with unique characteristics, to protect him and fight his battles during his afterlife. Who knows how many workers died completing this task for him. Rumor has it that if the workers died they were buried along with the warriors in the ground.

The current site is more of a museum, with three excavation pits open to the public. We were told to visit them in a particular order, pit 3, pit 2, and then pit 1. Pit 3 was comparatively small with only a few statutes unearthed. Pit 2 was a larger, but did not have a large volume of soldiers unearthed. The highlight of the visit was Pit 1. It was easily the size of a football field, covered like an airplane hanger. Although some portions of ground remain unexcavated, hundreds of soldiers stood ready for battle, organized in their formations. It was a sight to see. I had doubts regarding the quality and originality of some of the solders - could it really be that they were still in such good quality after all these years, or were they repaired to seem more impressive to the tourists? I still have doubts regarding the authenticity of much of China after the Olympic fireworks debacle. Regardless, I was delighted we traveled all the way to Xi’an to see the warriors. Overall, our trip to Xi’an had pleased me. I was finally feeling like China was giving us something back for our troubles.

Of All the Gin Joints in All the World

We were enjoying a few tasty beverages in the executive lounge of the Sheraton our last night in Xi’an. A family arrived when the lounge was still relatively empty. Their presence was immediately known in the small lounge. Two sets of parents and four children, taking advantage of the buffet snacks at the lounge to feed the family. Once they finished their dinner, the children moved into the conference room space, allowing the parents to have a little happy hour. Eric overheard one of the guys say something about flying to Shannon airport in Ireland. Then, Eric heard him mention something about Limerick, Ireland, where Eric’s mom is from. He still has family there too. As a back story, during our last trip to see family in Ireland, Eric and I rented a car, arranging it from the US. Because we wanted to pick the car up in the city, rather than at the airport, the girl on the phone questioned where we were staying. When I told them we were staying with family, she continued to prod, eventually exclaiming, “oh Jack and Teresa Crean; they live just up the road.” Teresa mentioned that they were known through much of the area, mostly due to Jack’s bread delivery business. Teresa said all it would get her, though, was a large turnout at her funeral.

Eric interrupted the conversation next to us, asking if the guy was from Limerick. Sure enough he was. Jokingly, I said, “Do you know Jack and Teresa Crean? They say they know everyone.” He paused saying he did not know a Jack and Teresa, but he knew an Eddie Crean from school. Turns out that John was a year behind Eddie, Eric’s cousin, and knew him from the Shannon Rowing Club. John’s cousin knew Eddie pretty well. John said it was strange because when he first sat in the lounge he did a double take with Eric thinking he looked like someone from back home. John also knew Joe and Eugene McCarthy, who live across the street from Jack and Teresa. Their mom walked us through her garden years ago and sent us home with some seedlings back to the US (probably violating some customs rules there). John also said he knew a bread delivery guy that always drove a really nice car. He would go to the filling station where John worked. They all wondered how a bread delivery guy drove such a nice car (what’s in the dough?). We thought it might be Uncle Jack. When I showed him some pictures on our computer he recognized the Shannon Rowing Club in the back of one picture and one of the pubs in Kilkee. When he saw a picture of Jack, he admitted that it was not the bread delivery guy he was thinking of, but when we stopped on a picture of Eddie he exclaimed “that’s Eddie Crean.” It is a very small world indeed. His brother in law lives in Tokyo, and offered to show us around while we are there in October. It was nice speaking with a friendly family about Limerick, and the places we know there.

Transport - Come Hell or High Water

One of the things we enjoyed in Xi’an was public transportation. Taking a taxi totally stresses me out in foreign cities, particularly in China. In Xi’an, our hotel was a few kilometers outside of the main tourist center, but we had several bus options that picked up just outside of our door. We had two non air conditioned buses and one air conditioned bus. We were told the a/c bus was twice as expensive, meaning it cost .30 rather than .15 USD. For the most part we kept to the non a/c bus, which was not that bad. The first time we splurged for the a/c bus we realized you paid the price based on how far you took the bus. When I told her “Sheraton” she had no idea what I was saying and took the money I had in my hand, which was the equivalent of .15 for each of us, the same as the non a/c bus. I finally felt like we were getting one over on the system.

We took the non a/c bus to the train station to transfer to a special bus to take us out to the Terracotta Warriors. After our tour, when we arrived back to the train station, we were at the start of the bus line; that meant we actually got seats on the bus. The bus was fairly empty and a pretty decent breeze was running through. I knew this could not last long. It just seemed unnatural. Not too far into the ride the bus stopped at a light and did not continue. We could not figure out what the deal was. The passengers stayed on board and no announcements were made. After several changes of the light a number of passengers, including Eric, tried to go to the front of the bus to see what the story was. Apparently, the bus hit a moto driver, or a pedestrian, we could not tell, and they were waiting for the police. The bus driver finally announced we should vacate the bus. I knew the comfortable seat for the 10 kilometer ride through the city was too good to be true. So, we left the bus, walked another few blocks down the road to hop on another bus, and of course paid another bus fare. Aside from this incident, we enjoyed taking public transport again. That was, until we needed to leave Xi’an via train.

Sunday evening we were scheduled to take the night train at 8:40 to Beijing. We arranged for a late checkout from the hotel, had a late lunch of De Fa Chang dumplings, and hung out in the executive lounge at the hotel for the last few hours before leaving for the train station. We planned on taking a taxi instead of the bus just so that we did not have to ride the crowded bus with our backpacks. Just after lunch it started pouring. By the time we made it to our perch near the window of the lounge on the 16th floor we started to watch the traffic move, or not move as the case was. One of the employees told us that when it rains the streets flood very bad, the small cars can’t get through, causing massive traffic jams, and the best bet would be to take the bus, which could make it through the water. A fine plan. But, as the minutes wore on we noticed the buses all stuck heading in the direction we needed to go, but the cars were turning around and heading in the opposite direction to find a way around the flooding. With Eric’s travel paranoia, we left the hotel around 6pm. This is where the saga began.

The hotel could not call a taxi for us and did not have a car to take us. They suggested we wait until a taxi comes to the hotel to drop people off, but who knew how long that would take. Then, they said we could not hail a taxi because the traffic was not moving, but we pointed out that it was stuck in only one direction. We hoped to hail a taxi on the opposite side of the street that could make it around the flooded section. One of the bellmen offered to help us, trying to follow me around with an umbrella, while all three of us kept trying to hail a taxi. Even the ones that were empty would not stop unless we practically jumped in front of the taxi, or they were letting people out. No one wanted to drive us to the train station. We offered to pay double the amount on the meter, and even triple, but no one would take us. The bellman said after about 20 minutes that we should just take a bus, but they were still just sitting there in front of the hotel, not going anywhere. It had been like that for over an hour at that point. We decided to start hoofing it, even though the bellman said it was about 15 kilometers to the train station. I was praying we would not need to walk all that way with our backpacks on. We were hoping to walk past a few more bus stops to see if they started moving, or to another intersection to see if we could hail another taxi.

The sight before us during our walk was incredible. In addition to all of the traffic on the street, cars and motos were driving on the sidewalks to make their way around the traffic. People who had no place to go hovered all over the streets just watching the scene unfold. I have never seen traffic stuck like this, with so many people watching. We walked past a few intersections and side streets that were flooded up to the curbs in some places. We managed to walk around them. We saw one police truck in all of the chaos, with one officer just sitting in the truck smoking a cigarette. What a help. Then, we hit the worst intersection. There was no way around no matter how far out of the way we walked. We needed to cross the river flowing down the street. There was water gurgling from the sewer and who knows from where else. We were both wearing our Chaco sandals and long shorts. We just barreled through, trying to make it across as quickly as possible. When we made it out the other side, I smelled something real nasty on the next block that made me wonder what kind of revolting stuff we just walked through. We wondered what kind of nastiness we could get through ingestion through our feet. It was another moment where I thought to myself “What am I DOING here?” After another block or so we saw the traffic clear up a bit and we tried to hop the 611 bus to the train station. We saw no 611 but saw a 300, which we knew made it down to the Bell Tower, a little more than half way to our destination; we jumped on to get us a little farther down the road. Every kilometer closer helped. We switched to the 611 at the Bell Tower with a few other backpackers who had similar problems, without having to cross sewer water in the process. It took us a full hour and half to make our way the 15 kilometers, but we made it. When we arrived we took turns walking into the “restroom,” a term I use lightly, to take a bottle of water to clean off our feet. We also changed into clean shoes, and some drier clothes once on the train. It was no fun, but we made it to the train, and we were on our way to Beijing. That was our goal, come hell or high water.

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Photos

Sleeper Train
Comfy and cozy.

De Fa Chang
Most famous delicious superior dumplings

Spicy Dipping Sauce
Chili paste and soy sauce to dip the dumplings into

Dumpling Banquet
Including two panda faces on the right side and two little duck shaped dumplings in the middle.

Not So Quiet Contemplation
Watching the noise and traffice below.

"Traditional" Architecture
I think most of the architecture was new to look old, but I didn't care.

Free Musical Preformance
At the Drum Tower - still never a smile from any of them.

Muslim Quarter
The market heading into the Muslim Quarter.

The Warriors
Stunning

Amber the Warrior
I at least felt like a warrior fighting my way into a decent spot for photos.

Tom v. Warrior
Tom and a mini Warrior, compliments of the manager at the Sheraton Xi'an.