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Published: March 6th 2007
"Laowai, laowai!"
Four local kids who found my presence in their city quite comical... Sometimes you can just catch the words being whispered by one adult to another, and sometimes it gets screamed by an excited toddler to their parents. The rough translation is, 'foreigner', but it probably has more of an effect like, 'alien'. Though not strictly an insult, it is often used in a derogatory sense - a bit like 'gringo' in South America. I hadn't heard it until I hit Luoyang. Since then I've had it about twenty times, and my responses have ranged from a cheerful wave to a barely-concealed snarl, depending on my mood and tolerance levels.
The reason I heard it so much in Luoyang was because I was the only laowai there, or at least I was the only one I was aware of. And that's hardly surprising: Luoyang doesn't have an awful amount to recommend it to visitors. Despite harbouring a population roughly the same as the whole of New South Wales, the city looks and feels like any other large, industrial conurbation in central China. It has all of the elements that make big Chinese cities so uninviting: a constant shroud of grey, throat-tickling smog; cold, damp air; smoke-belching factories; architectural eyesores,
Go Jackie Chan!
My trusty steed, Jackie Chan, who got me safely around the streets of Luoyang. And he only cost $1.50 for the day! usually of the popular 'white-tile-Chinese-modern' school; and a brown, stinking river that seems to double as the province's sewerage repository. I was stopping over to check out a bit of the local history: some Buddhist caves, and the birthplace of kung fu. But first I gave the city a go.
As I say, I wasn't overly enamoured with what Luoyang had to offer. So I thought I'd 'go native'. That is, I would hire a bike, and hit the streets, Chinese-style. So I ventured down to the railway station, and soon enough found a woman renting out a variety of rattletrap contraptions. I settled on a model and paid the grand sum of $1.50 for the day's hire.
The bicycle was pretty generic: rust-scarred, gearless, with bent handlebars and a saddle made of granite. I decided to give it a name. I had watched a selection of bad kung fu movies on the bus to Luoyang, and the nearby area was where the art originated, so 'Jackie Chan' was the christening name.
Jackie and I moved off into the morning traffic of the city. Negotiating roads in China is, as you'd expect, a little tricky. I'm sure
Kung fu!
The cadet monks of Shaolinsi strut their stuff. that twenty years ago, riding a bicycle around this country would have been a near-blissful experience. Nowadays, with the profusion of European motor cars, and Chinese buses, trucks and motorbikes, it is a tad more stressful. Even though most towns have lanes set aside purely for bikes, they are also used by pedestrians, rickshaws, scooters, and taxis - usually going the wrong way. Also, traffic lights are more a loose guide, rather than lawful signals to be obeyed. Large vehicles rule the roost, and you are expected to wind your way in and out of the other road users - all the while trying to keep the bent handlebars as straight as possible. I had a few near misses, but eventually I got the hang of it, and always made sure I was right behind another cyclist, so they could take the brunt of any collision that occurred.
I wobbled my way out of town, and did the 26-km round journey to the Longmen Caves, a selection of Buddhist grottoes carved into the riverside hills. The hundreds of caves used to contain images of the Buddha, but most of them were flogged by European archaeologists and now reside in
Chinese panel beater
An ageing metalsmith attempts to beat a cooking pot back into shape. Old City, Luoyang museums outside of China. The site is pretty impressive, but is only just worth the dangerous cycle along the motorway to get there.
I rode back into town, and found my way to the Old City, a maze of alleyways and ramshackle red-brick houses with a thousand times the charm of the grotty New City. It was in these backstreets that kids stared wide-eyed, and grabbed their parents arms, to alert them to the presence of the laowai. The pace of life in the old part of town was a lot slower, and there seemed to be umpteen groups of old folks just sitting around, staring, chatting, or playing a few rounds of mah jong.
My bum was sore as hell, so I decided that was enough fun for Jackie and me, and I returned him to his original owner. He had served me well - he had shown me that, even in an urban nightmare like Luoyang, one can still find parts of town which were both charming and interesting.
My final act in Luoyang was to visit Shaolinsi, the original Shaolin temple, of fighting monk fame. About 1500 years ago, the Buddhist monks of this
The Mah Jong master
A Mah Jong enthusiast collects his tiles in one of the Old City's tiny backstreets temple (about 60kms from Luoyang) developed an in-between-meditations-relaxation technique that imitated the natural motions of wildlife. Eventually, it evolved into the various Chinese martial arts, of which kung fu is the most famous. The temple is still there, but most of it is brand new - the original buildings were burned down and looted during civil war in 1928, and again by the vandals of the Cultural Revolution in the 1970s. As expected, the official signs explaining the temple's history conveniently forget to mention the latter period of destruction, instead blaming it all on the bourgeois Nationalists.
The temple is still is use, but has become something of a tourist trap. I realised as much when a Buddhist monk offered me some good luck Buddha charms, showed me how to pray to the big man himself - and then asked for 100 yuan ($15) for the pleasure. I returned the charms, and will leave karma to do the rest.
Next door to the temple, a kung fu academy is in operation. I saw a pretty stunning show put on by the young trainees, including some boys as young as five, who exhibited martial arts moves that would floor
Year of the Pig
A pig famer tries to herd his stubborn swine out of a petrol station in Luoyang me no worries. It was pretty special seeing these kung fu cadets still learning the art, just metres from where it originated over a millennium ago.
To close: some more Chinglish for you. I spotted 'manual noodles' on one restaurant menu (make them yourself, perhaps?), and also saw my two favourite 'Keep off the grass' signs ever: 'The flowers is lovable, asks not to injury', and 'I will cry if trampled'.
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Alan Scott
non-member comment
Different styles of Buddhism
I found your discussion of the Buddhist sites and customs very interesting. I gave monk that blessed my wedding 10 ringgit and he gave me back an offering of 5 ringgit costing me about $1 AUS for a complete wedding blessing. I guess the Chinese drive for economic growth ahs also hit the Buddhists too. Ironic that the Communist government has capitalised Buddhism Athela still thinks your mad and wants you to be careful. The bike trip and the river descriptions are enough to force her to more pleasant environments but I wish I was there but I would have to use a moped at least. Keep up the excellent commentary