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Published: June 16th 2005
Jung Chang, in her 2003 introduction to "Wild Swans" makes the following observations about her visits to modern day China - "Exhaltation and excitement are exhausting. So are exasperation and outrage, which dog my every step here." Well, on a slightly less dramatic level, we know how she feels. In the interests of anyone reading this, I'll save my winge to the end.
Our overnight loogie express from Beijing deposited us surprisingly refreshed in Xian, although without a Pacsafe cuddling my camera gear for the night I wouldn't have slept a wink. I've always scoffed at them but given the layout of a Chinese hard sleeper it was essential. We got picked up at the station along with several others, and by 9.00am we had ganged together to charter a minivan to the Terracotta warriors. China's rapid development means traffic is a problem everywhere, and it is certainly a problem in a city of 5 million people like Xian, so visiting the warriors became an all day trip, whatever.
The terracotta warriors are justifiably one of the great sights of the world, but don't expect to come back weeping with emotion. When Channel
Four gets around to showing the 100 great egotistical statements of all time they will be at number seven, well ahead of Tony Blair's speech to the U.S. congress in 2003, although Freud might have a little problem with this as the Emporer Qin Shi Wang kept them secret, employing the usual method of murdering the workmen to make sure. They were only discovered in 1974 by peasants digging a well, although I'm sure I read on travelblog that it was a "feral backpacker" rooting for truffles (thanks to Aspiring Nomad for this great phrase).
Qin Shi Wang rose to the throne of the Western Chinese state of Qin in 246 BC at the age of thirteen. In the next twenty five years he managed to subdue the unruly Eastern states and so became emporer of China. He is thought to have been a ruthless tyrant, although most of the documentary evidence about him was written by the East, whom he subjugated. He also put in place systems of standardisation throughout China and began construction of the Great Wall. He died in 210 BC, after which his entourage concealed his death, but the empire soon disintegrated into civil war.
The terracotta army was part of a great imperial complex built by Qin around his tomb. The army face East, to protect him from his enemies in the afterworld. 700,000 labourers were used over the 36 years of his reign to create this extravagance. Each soldier has different features and bears the marks of rank - some think they are portraits of the real imperial guard of the time.
In some ways they must represent one of the most generally accessible and exciting archeological sites in the world, but the couple of hours spent by “most people” is probably enough for “most people”. The whole conception behind them is staggering, almost as staggering as the Great Wall itself. The fact that they remained unknown for so many years defies belief. Etc. But in the end, without a greater appreciation of Chinese history behind me, I struggled to find the place much more than a tick-list item, wondering as Kim did, why there weren't more warriors, when all the photos we had seen suggested more, but of course didn't show more. (No criticism is mean't here - it is just possible to photograph them to make them look more
visually impressive than they actually are.)
Traffic apart, Xian is a pleasant city, well worth exploring for a few days I suspect. That night we wandered into the Muslim quarter and over-indulged in the night market, ordering too many lamb kebabs and dunking too many vegetables and oddities into our steamboat. Next morning we were both a little the worse for wear, food-wise, but by the end of the day we had recovered - thankfully as we had a night-train to catch.
Our second and last day in Xian was spent wandering around a few local attractions. The little goose pagoda was unremarkable and difficult to find, although like many similar places in Beijing, a nice place to be for an hour or so. A collection of ancient busts of Chinese characters - monkeys, lions, dragon-riding goblins etc, was fun to explore, and the tourist shops were ok. I finally gave in and bought two large scroll paintings, one a traditional vertical scroll of cliff-like mountains rising into the mist, and the other a distinctly non-traditional panoramic of two horseman chasing their flock (if only the Christian Church were allowed to use lassoes). In the increasingly confusing world
of Chinese bargaining I had them down from 2000 Yuan for two to 500 Yuan for two in a matter of minutes, kicking myself for offering too high a price. My old boss Les would have kicked me harder, as like the Chinese he was more than happy to agree a price one minute and then change it the next if he thought he was being done. I liked the pictures so I was happy with the price.
I went to write about Beijing in a swanky internet Cafe whilst the long suffering Kim went to source vital supplies. Her wanderings took her into our first real Chinese market, complete with tubs of live turtles, crabs, eels and snakes. I pity the tour leader should Nick and Matt ever venture to China with Exodus. Apart from the obvious cruelty the market wasn't too bad, apart from the young lads gutting the live eels (or snakes, couldn't tell, blood everywhere).
Back at the hostel waiting for our overnight train Charlotte and Frank, an adventurous French couple honeymooning along the Silk Road, bought us a beer and proposed we join them to visit the Bingling Si caves rather than heading
straight to our intended destination of Xiahe (pronunced Sha-ka with the 'ka' as a 'ha' as in "no-one expects the Spanish Inquisition"). Xian is nominally the start of the Silk Route, which then runs Northwest to Lanzhou, the main city of Gansu provence. This was the destination of our overnight train. We had intended to stay there for a day and get the 8 hour bus to Xiahe, Southwest of Lanzhou, the next morning. Xiahe is the first stop on a relatively little trodden route over some respectably high mountain ranges down into Sichuan provence in the centre-west of China. Frank and Charlotte,also headed to Xiahe, proposed that on leaving the train we go to visit the Bingling Si caves and overnight in the Muslim city of Linxia, which is well on the way. We agreed.
Next morning, after visiting several of the different bus stations in Lanzhou, the four of us were on a bus from Lanzhou to Yongjing. This was our first experience of the idiosyncrasies of long distance bus travel in China. I can't quite remember but I think Yongjing is less than 100km from Lanzhou. The trip took four hours. The bus left promptly, but
Graffitti
Little goose pagoda, Xianthen slowly toured town for two hours touting for more trade. Lanzhou, hemmed in by hills stretches a tedious 30km along the Yellow River valley. This was to become a feature of our bus trips, the most ludicrous apart from that in Lanzhou being the nine hour bus from Songpan to Chengdu - it left the station, again on time, and then stopped fifty metres down the road to pick someone up. After another fifty metres it stopped again to repeat the process. Songpan is not big place but we stopped many more times before leaving the town.
The trip to Bingling Si is somewhat involved, but worthwhile. The caves are carved into the side of a canyon at the head of the Liujiazia Resevoir on the Yellow River. To get there you need to charter a boat, or join at tour, to navigate more than 50km up the Yellow River, across the lake and up into the Canyon. The trip is predominantly through sedimentary loess scenery, carved into spectacular badlands along the lakeside. In a fast boat it takes about an hour, in the larger slow ones it takes three hours.
The caves, constructed between the 5th
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Small goose pagoda, Xian and 19th centuries may or may not be spectacular. We didn't get to see them as the admission charge was ridiculously high (see later), but we did see the 27m Buddha carved out of the cliff-side. Bingling Si means Ten Thousand Buddha in Tibetan, but we didn't see many Tibetans. Just a lot of construction and a lot of hawkers. The trip was definitely worth it purely for the boat ride, particularly as the boat dropped us off at the far end of the lake, cutting our bus trip down by several hours. Spurning the frantic demands of the local minivan drivers we took a table overlooking the lake and sat in the sunshine admiring the view and the beer. The local family whose luck it was to entertain us demonstrated their technological prowess by printing out a digital image of our happy soiree which they then attempted to sell us. Bliss.
That night we arrived in Linxia, an almost entirely Muslim town. After a rest and a wander round we found what must have been the top restaurant in the place and had a delightful meal in a private room overlooking the square, served by several waitresses in
traditional dress, for less than 100 Yuan for four. Afterward we strolled the night markets, and Kim and I were taken for a drink by a young but poor english-speaking doctor. It was very clear he was stifled by the lack of opportunity in Linxia, and dreams of moving to Hangzhou, where the girls are prettier and there are more foreigners to talk to. Interestingly he was quite shocked to find that Kim drank beer.
Next morning another bus trip, climbing up into the mountains to the Tibetan monastery town of Xiahe. We had heard a lot about Xiahe, and in fact had pretty much changed our entire itinerary for Northern China in order to visit it. I'm glad we did.
Xiahe is a small town situated about 3000m up in the mountains in Western China. The town is split into three distinct parts. You arrive by bus in the Chinese section, which is about a kilometre long. Uphill from this is the Labrang Monastery which runs for another kilometre or so. Uphill further still is the Tibetan section of ramshackle huts and mud streets rather than the more modern buildings and tarmac road of the Chinese section.
Xian city walls
40 Yuan entry to you and me. To Tibetans the monastery is the third most important in the world after the Potala and another in Tibet. Many Tibetans make pilgrimages here from Tibet. The circumference of the outer walls is just short of 4km and all but the upper wall is lined with prayer wheels. The pilgrims spend the day circling the monastery in a clockwise direction, spinning each prayer wheel clockwise. Roughly a thousand monks live and worship in the monastery and can be seen joining the pilgrims. They can also be seen eating in the local restaurants, bartering in the local shops, and in the best scene we saw (I wish I had had my camera) two monks were sat inside the clinically-clean, spartanly-modern mobile phone shop, discussing the terms of a new contract with the incongruosly chic saleswoman inside.
Buddhism seems a very open belief. The pilgrims particularly, and also the monks, are dedicated without question, but that doesn't mean they can't have fun and keep fit at the same time. Most didn't mind our intrusions, and on several occassions we were dragged bodily to join in, with a lot of laughing and fun. The pilgrims were of all ages, but the
most impressive for me was a rather large old woman, surely in her seventies if not older, who we saw many times each day making her slow but sure progress around the monastery walls, pausing at each temple to place her forehead to the walls and chant the appropriate sutra. Some of the younger devotees were able to spin prayer wheels and walk so fast that I needed to run just to keep up with them.
Others took the slower approach. Stand, reach to the sky with your hands. Kneel. Place your hands on the floor and prostrate yourself full length on the floor, again with your arms outstretched above your head, a horizontal copy of the vertical position you were in the moment before. Slide your hands around to push yourself to your feet, take a pace forward, and repeat. Doing this daily for the 4km around the Labrang monastery seems bad enough, but we've heard of pilgrims circumnavigating Mount Kailash (6714m) in Western Tibet. Walking normally the 58km circuit takes a good three days but several weeks for those who perambulate more piously.
Next morning I arose before dawn to attempt to get some decent sunrise
Excuse me, can I have my ball back please?
Big Buddha, Bingling Si caves, Gansu Provence shots of the Monastery. As I walked around the perimeter I was surprised to see that the prayer wheels were busier than ever, and more people were prostrating themselves fully than the day before. As I passed the main golden stupa I heard chanting, and so wandered in. There the monks sat, lit by candles in a cloud of incense, going through the devotions. Some seemed trance-like, whilst others stared at me, reciprocating my acknowledgement. I did a slow couple of laps of the temple with my eyes half closed, taking it all in.
Given the tight Chinese control in Tibet there is some discussion as to whether the Monks in the main monasteries accessible to tourists are real Monks or just Chinese actors. Having not been to Tibet I've no idea, and even going there may not help decide. I can say that the actions of the pilgrims and monks that early morning (it was 5.30am) convinced me that these were real Tibetans partaking in real Tibetan worship. I could be wrong but I hope not. Unlike many roads to the region much of the road to Xiahe is newly paved, and this continues much of the way
Outrageous
The 300 Yuan entry fee to the Bingling Si caves - the 60 to 90 Yuan entry fees seemed to be "Off dear". to Langmusi, on the border with Sichuan. I don't know if this indicates anything sinister on the horizon - more tourists or more chinese settlers - but I hope not. It would be great to see Xiahe conserved as the living wonder that it is, although I guess in the real world tourism is perhaps the best way to achieve this.
That night we said goodbye to Frank and Charlotte, sad to see another brief but fun friendship disappear, and maybe beginning to sample what the life of an overland truck driver might be like. In the morning we boarded the bumpy bus to Hezuo (2 hours), a knackered old banger packed full of Tibetan nomads smelling of mutton and poor Chinese hawking loogies onto the bus floor. The back row kids who scored highest on the arial manoeuvres on the ridiculously bumpy road included Kim and I and a Tibetan couple who spent much of the time muttering sutras. The man, who was a big fella, took some interest in us, as we did him. He looked like he had been brought up on a diet of rocks and gravel, and wrapped in his bulky Tibetan coat, he
Flags and Hills
Temple courtyard, Bingling Si Caves, Gansu made a fiercesome sight. He certainly frightened the bus conductor who didn't try very hard to get either him or myself to make space for the unfortunate young Chinese chap who was sandwiched between us. Both of us being overlarge for the small chinese seats neither of us gave an inch, and the young lad spent the trip squeezed into about a foot of space with his head down in a penitent "just ignore me" manner. By contrast the coach to Langmusi was luxury - four hours through beautiful mountain grasslands along pristine tarmac with air-conditioning and only yaks, goats and mad cyclists to get in the way, crossing the Yellow River/Yangtse River watershed on the way. This is what Chinese bus travel can be like.
On disembark
ing a very nice English speaking young man approached us wearing a North Face Gortex Jacket (well one of the widely available cheap copies, same material but check the zip quality, sealing of the ends of cords etc - the jackets seem ok but the rucksacks are not quite as good, but at the price who cares). He whisked us off to his hotel, and after apologising for the fact we
couldn't have a double room for the second night as the place was booked up by an Australian tour company, took about ten minutes to tell us everything we needed to know and then left us to our own devices. Fantastic.
Depending on your preference Langmusi, at about 3300m on the Gansu/Sichuan border, is even more appealing than Xiahe. It is a village not a town, and the two sections of the Lang Mu monstery dominate. The surrounding mountains are higher and more dramatic than Xiahe, but the monasteries are less 'alive' and there are fewer (no) pilgrims.
As far as we can understand sky burials continue in Langmusi. The whole issue seems somewhat clouded, partly because of understandable Tibetan reluctance to widely publicise what is a deep and important ceremony to them, and one which is at odds with the beliefs and understandings of much of the outside world. Perhaps also there is some concern on behalf of the Chinese authorities that such practices continue, although I am guessing at this latter point.
In a sky burial, rather than cremating or burying the body, it is chopped to pieces, the bones are ground down, and the
whole mixed with maize or corn to form a kind of porridge. Bells are sounded to attract the local vultures, if they are not there already, who then devour the lot. From what we understand, although this may not be correct, the belief is that when a person dies the soul does not immediately leave the body, but can take up to two weeks to do so. The body show signs when the soul has left, and it is believed that the better a person has been the longer the soul takes to leave. Once the body is freed then it is taken for sky burial, which is the most expensive and distinguished method of burial. Others include cremation, stupa burial and water burial, a similar thing with fish rather than vultures (interestingly after searching for more info on this I tried to get to a Tibetan page outside of China but this couldn't be reached, and subsequently google seems to be blocked on this machine, even though I've deleted cookies etc). The sky burial returns the body to the earth, quite an ecologically sound method where fuel is scarce and the ground is frozen much of the year.
Peloton
Paying their respects and keeping fit by lapping the temple clockwise at a tremendous rate. Directions to the sky burial site at Lang Mu are shown once you enter the Monastery, paying a reasonable ten Yuan, although if you need change this may completely flummox the monk in the ticket office. We stayed clear of the site at a respectful distance, but had a good wander around. Unsurprisingly prayer flags abound. We were more surprised to also find the area strewn with the detritus of peoples lives - clothes, boots, bags etc. Looking carefully we were able to find the rusty knives and hatchets that had been used to carve up the bodies, and other finds suggested to us that maybe the site had been used relatively recently. It was a cold, windswept and forbidding place to mortals, but not a bad one to spend your eternity soaring on the winds.
Next day we returned to the more normal pursuit of hiking, taking a path up through the Monastery (15 Yuan) on the other side of the valley and through the gorge of the White Dragon River. We did a six hour walk which took us above 4000m (if Langmusi is really at 3300m). The last few hundred metres up the hill certainly felt
Mah Jong
Tibetan Village, Xiahe as if we were at altitude, with the pace slowing remarkably and both of us getting dizziness and headaches. These soon eased once we had recovered from the climb and traversed the plateau, feeling like deep-sea divers we were so heavy-legged, and on the descent we felt positively buoyant. On returning however I had a splitting headache which went well into the next day - unjust I felt as I had been the stronger on the climb. If you happen to be in Langmusi and fancy a walk but don't want to exert yourself then just do an hour (one way) up the gorge - it is very beautiful and you see a lot for a little effort.
We arose early to tackle the bus trip to end all bus trips - six hours for the eighty kilometres from Langmusi to Zoige in Sichuan provence. That in itself wouldn't be so bad, but the bus was cramped. Very cramped. At the start all seemed normal. The usual officious ticket check in the bus station, a prompt departure, stopping to pick up people who couldn't be bothered to get to the station. Then at the next village or so, some
Pilgrims
From dawn to dusk these Tibetan pilgrims circled the 4km Monastery perimeter merrily spinning prayer wheels as they went kilometres out of town, the already full bus was invaded by about twenty people, doubling its capacity. Small stools were handed out and they sat in the narrow aisle, trying not to impinge on the people around them too much i.e. me. The trouble was that, like most of the non-paved roads in the region, the road to Zoige was almost entirely roadworks, the already bumpy track being ploughed up by large trucks and JCB's and long sections of singletrack. The suspension of the old bomb could hardly cope so the maximum speed seemed to be set at about 20 km per hour. If we were lucky. As the journey trundled on the unfortunates without seats fell asleep. I had two guys using my leg and shoulder as a rest, and I had to keep checking that they weren't dribbling in their sleep. Finally, about 5km out of Zoige, the bus stopped. All the usurpers got off and were loaded into minivans, so the bus could go unmolested through the police check just outside Zoige. I'm sure the police know this is happening, and probably get their cut, but wouldn't it just be easier to get a bigger bus ?
Pilgrim
Xiahe, Gansu provence We had some problems in Zoige, trying to arrange transport out (see below) and finding a sensibly priced hotel. In the end all was well and we had a great introduction to spicy Sichuan cusine in a remarkably good steamboat/hotpot (chinese style fondue) restaurant on the mainstreet. This was typical of China, and I guess travel as a whole - just as things are getting really bad something comes along to cheer you up.
The seven hour trip from Zoige to Songpan the next day was long but uneventful, starting on paved roads through the Mongolian steppe-like scenery of the Aba grasslands at 3500m, and finishing on a desperate singletrack dirt road dropping at least a thousand-metres down a narrow gorge, again full of road-building trucks and other buses. Songpan is a nice town, with a pleasantly modern main street constructed in a traditional style. Stray off the main road and you will find typical old wooden houses, hutong style, and a collection of ramshackle teashops by the river. Thankfully Emma of 'Emmas Place' speaks good English and can set you up with whatever you wish in the area. We decided to shun the horse-trekking to save our
already smarting backsides and tackle the two nearby National Parks, Huanglong and Juizhaigou, both deservedly World Heritage listed.
If you've never visited a Chinese National Park then imagine Meadowhall or the Trafford Centre, or your nearest multiplex mall/shopping centre, two days before Christmas. Then imagine that all the shoppers have opened umbrellas. This is what the boardwalks of Huanglong and Juizhaigou are like, and from what we hear, is the same all over China. The roads in the North of Sichuan are crammed with tour buses, crammed with people from all over China, being taken to appreciate these natural gems, as sardines are taken to appreciate a good canning.
The roads to both parks from Songpan go through stunningly beautiful Alpine scenery, and at the pass above Huanglong we had a clear view of what we took to be the highest mountain in the area, a staggering 5500m plus. Huanglong comprises an alpine valley rising from about 3100m to 3600m. The uniqueness is that the 4km length of the valley is almost entirely calcified terraces and pools, similar to those at Pummakale in Turkey or those that used to exist in Rotorua in New Zealand. Arrive early, brave
the 115 Yuan entry fee, lose yourself in wonder at the beauty of these pools and waterfalls, and then gaze in wrapt astonishment as the Chinese tour buses arise. Thankfully we were on our way down, on a separate path, as the upward path became a crush of people with cameras, oxygen bottles and 'peasants' carrying the aged, unfit or just indolent up the relatively easy climb. The whole multi-coloured noisy caterpillar moved forward at a snail's pace (one for Bernard there Minister). As we came down we saw several victims of the lack of fresh mountain air, whose faces had turned brighter shades than the jewel-like pools they had come to see.
Thankful of our early start we escaped by our chartered taxi (300 Yuan from Songpan to Huanglong to Juizhaigo, arranged by Emma) to the horrible new tourist town outside Juizhaigo park entrance. We had a bit of a bad time, realising that with the potential costs we were going to incur we might run out of money (we hadn't had access to a bank or ATM since Xian). The hotels were extremely expensive, with rack-rates above 500 Yuan a night (negotiated down to 160 Yuan), yet
they couldn't even manage hot water. The entry fees to the park posed an even bigger problem - 145 Yuan the first day and 100 Yuan on subsequent days, plus a 90 Yuan bus ticket each days. If you wanted to see all the attractions you had to use the bus. Despite the guidebooks listing accomodation inside the park, the authorities say this is prohibited forcing you to pay twice if you want to take the two days you need to see the park. As it was we didn't pay for any bus tickets and slept inside the park, saving a total of about 650 Yuan between us over what we would have paid by following the rules official way.
The park is indeed beautiful, a long, tree-lined and steep-sided alpine valley at about 2500m which forks into two at the top, surrounded by snow-capped peaks reaching 4500m. The trees are mainly coniferous interspersed with many deciduous trees and bushes. The valley floor is a necklace of crystal clear blue lakes strung together with a series of cascades and falls. Unusually, when one lake flows into another it is not in a single channel, or even a series of
channels, but the water seems to flow across the whole width of the valley floor, flowing merrily in a series of mini-cascades through bushes and trees and across wide expanses of rock. In Autumn the combination of turning colours reflected in the mirror-like lakes must be a photographers dream, as well as perhaps one of the most beautiful places on the planet - that is if you make sure you escape the tour buses.
Thankfully it is fairly easy to escape the masses - just walk 50m away from the nearest bus stop and you will be almost on your own. Walk 100m away and you will see no-one. Throughout our two days there we walked a good portion of the three valleys (nearly getting stuck at the top of the left-hand valley at 5.30pm believing all the buses had gone, but after half an hours walking we were picked up - phew) and it was only in the designated 'high spots' - big waterfalls etc - that we encountered the bulk of the Chinese tourists. On our first day we walked eight kilometres up the valley before meeting a soul, and of course the first person we met
Yak attack
Is it a yak or is it a hairy cow ? was a tourist wearing black trousers, black shoes, a white shirt and carrying a black laptop case. On this evidence the Chinese idea of appreciating a place like this is to leap off the tour bus, rush to the railing to get your photo taken surrounded by thousands of others and then leap back onto the tour bus where a guide will fill you in with the mythology associated with the creation of the next attraction - "the giant Yak leapt across the valley where the two lovers lay and his footprint created this pool". Much better was sharing the pools at dawn with two chaps from the Tibetan village, one jogging and one doing an assortment of Tai-chi like excercises and just generally waking himself up with the rest of nature.
Another taxi, shared with a nice Dutch couple whose idea it was, and we were back in Songpan, ready for more pizza and greeting our Austrian friends who had just returned from four days horse trekking. Then a long bus down more than 1500m along a series of hair-raising roads through huge himalayan-style valleys and we hit the hot humid plane that hosts smoggy, bicycle crazy Chengdu,
capital of Sichuan Provence, for a well deserved rest.
So here goes with the winge. I'd like to make it clear at the start of this that my views on complexities of this massive nation are still most succinctly and accurately described by Father Ted Crilly and his immortal phrase - "The Chinese - a great bunch of lads". There seems to be so much fun in so many of the people we meet, and every low we have is followed by a high. However ...
People kept saying to us 'Beijing is not the real China', and at least in one sense they are right. China unashamedly runs two-tier pricing, foreigners paying at least twice what the locals pay, often four times and sometimes upwards. In Beijing this generally isn't a problem, because it is done nicely and realistically. I've no problem with paying twice and occasionally three or more times what the Chinese pay, but it becomes a real pain in the butt to find yourselves arguing several times a day with some surly and aggressive idiot yokel, who just sees a foreigner as a license to grab money, in order to get back down to
2x or 3x the local rate, which you know full well from asking around. The taxi driver at Chengdu bus station caught me at a bad moment after a nine hour bus ride in which I was reading about the horrors of the Cultural Revolution in Wild Swans. He refused to go on the meter, offering an inflated rate. I got the police and he and his mates disappeared.
Also common is the practice of agreeing a rate, often for the vendor to win in a competitive bargaining situation against his fellows, then transporting the unfortunates into the middle of nowhere where the rate is then raised, at the threat of abandonment. This happened to us with one motor boat driver on the way to Bingling Si caves. I took his ignition keys in order to try to create a Mexican stand-off, but sadly he could start the engine without them. Oh well. As it was he didn't get our business as we jumped ship to a more honest guy - the one who wouldn't drop his price below the local cartel's rates and had twice watched us walk off shaking his head. We've experienced the same problem with
Prayer Flags, Sky Burial
Near to the sky burial place at Lang Mu temple in Langmusi. taxis - we got together with an Austrian couple on the same bus as us and asked some minivan drivers "How much from Zoige to Songpan?". 400 Yuan we were told. So we said ok, we'll take it. Five minutes later the price was up to 500 Yuan so we walked off and stayed the night in Zoige. At 9.00pm the taxi driver was still patrolling the streets in the vain hope of a pickup, when he blew three or four days revenue by being greedy. I'm not sure if this is a hangover from communism and these guys are looked after somehow, or whether they are just idiots, but it can be very frustrating. Travellers tales in bars and cafes focus not on how great the things they have seen and done are, but how they have been ripped off that day, or at least how the Chinese tried to rip them off - they usually fail. Two girls told of how they had been dropped off at a nomadic camp for 30 Yuan and had arranged for the taxi to collect them a couple of days later. On dropping them the taxi said it would be 150 Yuan
Nomad, Langmusi
(Looks like Dave I has been hitting the sauce a bit too much lately) to get him to come back. They told him where to go, and so he came anyway. Similarly a Langmusi trekking guide spent the whole trek trying to raise the price, threatening to leave his charges there. He was dealing with Israelis. Ha ha.
This is not necessarily representative of the Chinese, but tales embodying the self-centred nature of the Chinese people, often based on 'moral' traditions corrupted to benefit the powerful at whatever level, be it family or state, form the meat of Lu Xun's stories, or even Jung Chang. To be fair this is no different to any country. We of course have met many great people, the frustration being we cannot communicate. When they have been able to speak English, they have bought us drinks, refusing any charity from ourselves even (especially) when desperately poor, and lamented the foolishness of their fellows - "They don't think or understand, they just want the money." Sadly the motto for so many appears to be "rip off today, don't think about tommorrow."
We have experienced many examples of service and help beyond the call of duty. The two check-in staff at a hotel in Jiuzhaigou stored our rucksacks
Leishas (?) Yak Burger, Langmusi
This is the small variety, costing US$1. The large one costs about US$1.5 and is apparently almost impossible to eat. for us for two days in their bedroom next to the check-in desk. When we collected them they absolutely refused to take a tip from us. We weren't even staying at the hotel. Also in Jiuzhaigou the check-in clerk at our hotel sent the doorman off with me in search of ATM's and money-changers. He stayed with me for more than an hour as we tracked down these facilities - not always easy amidst the disinformation that is often offered when asking someone on the street.
I'm not wet behind the ears here. Prior to embarking on this lengthy trip I have travelled fairly extensively in Asian and Arabic countries where price negotiation is an everyday occurence. Some of these countries were desperately poor. I've bartered, haggled, been conned and had people renege on deals, but never on such a scale or with such inevitability as I have experienced in our brief time in China. Having dealt with the Chinese disapora as a budget traveller before I had expected some of this, but frankly I am surprised at the level here today.
The problem is of course is that the scheisters spoil it for the rest. Little by
Up High
Kim at about 4000m or so in the mountains above Langmusi little we harden and start showing people less respect, treating everyone we meet with suspicion, until they are gone, at which point we make a judgement. But, just as in business, even the paranoid have to trust someone otherwise no progress is possible. So it is here.
That is how it is dealing with many of the people. Then, of course, there is officaldom. At every tourist attraction foreigners pay more than Chinese. Fair enough, as long as it is kept realistic. However this is far from the case. The crowning glory was again the Bingling Si caves, where the entry price to see some ancient underground Buddhas was a massive 300 Yuan. I've no idea what they're like and I guess very few other people have. 300 Yuan is 20 gbp, 37.5 usd, 30 euros or 47.5 australian dollars. It is nearly five times the entry fee for the Forbidden Palace and more than three times the entry fee for the Terracotta warriors. It is three days all-inclusive horse-trekking around the mountains of Songpan. Or more telling, in local prices (that we paid) it is 66 litres of beer, or nearly a years supply of bread for a
single person. Needless to say I gave the people at the gate and at the ticket office a piece of my mind. They protested that these were the oldest Buddhas in China and hence were worthy of the charge. I don't think they had heard of the splendours of museums like the Louvre and the Hermitage. If I thought the money was going to benefit the local people then I perhaps would have been less annoyed, but clearly it isn't as we had to run the usual gauntlet of impoverished hawkers just to get to the ticket office.
But it is not just the occasional charge of Nick Leeson proportions that causes problems. Everywhere you turn in China there is a ticket wielding maniac trying to salami slice your daily budget. Remind me, is it Taoism or Confucianism where it says "Whenever two or three are gathered together, we will put a fence around them and charge admission." A great example are the shabby and dull tourist sites around the Terracotta warriors. A group of us had chartered a minivan, and we had all day to go where we liked East of Xian. In the end not a single
Yak Heaven
Where Yaks go if they escape Leisha's Yak burger. one of the eight paid entry into any of the attractions except the Warriors themselves, due to the ratio of excitement to price for tending towards zero. We didn't even get onto the Xian city walls, right next to our hostel, as the price for foreigners was 40 Yuan - not a lot in itself but too much when added to the entry fees we had paid already that day. Again we were met with - "But they're very old." So what, they're dramatically unremarkable, and guess what, we've got some very old stuff in Europe also. So not today, thanks buddy. I'd rather spend the money buying three gallons of beer and getting some beggars drunk.
Within a short walk of my parents house in England there is a ruined medieval castle, a hall several centuries old including an chapel and graveyard, several ancient burial mounds and an earthwork thought by some to be King Arthur's round table. Like most of the attractions in China, there is not much to see, except perhaps the castle, which if you sneek into on a moonlit night, your imagination fuelled by alcohol (if need be), proves quite an evocative ruin. No
From Langmusi Gorge
The top end of the gorge walk out of Langmusi - an easy hour's stroll and well worth it. admission is charged to any except the castle, where I have to admit perhaps the charge is too high (it certainly keeps me out, no bad thing etc etc). I certainly wouldn't expect visitors from America, Australia, China or even Belgium to bother to seek out any of these attractions. Holidaying Geordies and Scousers maybe, but even then I suspect few visit except the local people. If only the E.U. could see it's way to allowing a few Chinese officials to get hold of these, we'd have a major money-making industry overnight.
Of course the problem is that many of these minor attractions in China get their entry fees paid by the miserable victims of package tours, who've forked out a load of money either back in their own country, or in their Chinese hostel or hotel, to see a major attraction such as the Terracotta Warriors. These poor unfortunates are now sweating it out traipsing between some of the most stultifyingly dull places on the planet. I've nothing against package tours - I think they are a great idea, having just spent eleven weeks in Africa on a variant of the genre - I'm just feeling for the
White Dragon River, Bottom of Langmusi Gorge
This river starts from a springs literally 50m from where this photo is taken. Within a matter of a few feet it becomes quite a large stream. customers here.
In Beijing we saw a letter from a disgusted Chinese reader to an English language newspaper complaining that the America Women's Association had organised an event and advertised "foreign passport holders only". At the time I was pretty disgusted. Now a part of me thinks "good on'em". Just as in Africa people shout you must show them respect, without any concept of how to show respect for others. In the African countries we visited there was often patchy education facilities and almost no way for the majority of people to gain the contextual information that we all take foregranted - books, televsion, newspapers, internet - what would we do without propaganda ? The problem is amplified by the fact that any people who do gain some experience and understanding outside their local village life will on average die before they are forty in many places, making the practice of passing this experience onto the next generation quite difficult. Whilst we have travelled through many desperately poor places in China, the problems above do not exist to the same extent. Some of the people ripping us off genuinely need to, but most don't. Pride, face and honour are
supposed to be valued highly in China, so I guess praying on defenceless people who can't speak your language is a most honourable profession here. "You drove two young women into the middle of nowhere and forced them to pay double with the threat of abandonment. Oh well done darling. What darling? Risotto darling."
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Ali
Ali Watters
The Photos Just Keep Getting Better!
I'm enjoying your journals and photos immensely, even the (justified IMO) whinging :) The Pearl Shoal Waterfall photo is one of the best waterfall shots I've ever seen - keep up the fantastic work!