The Almighty Hua Shan (Flower Mountain)

I decided that instead of leaving Xi'an on the double, I would stay and climb it's most famous mountain: one of the five sacred Taoist mountains in China. I woke up today at 6:30 am, 5.5 hours after going to sleep, skipped my shower and headed for the bus at around 7:00 am. I had strapped on my hiking boots for the first time in China (backpackers don't need hiking boots, I shouldn't have brought them). Sunscreen, some crackers and bread I had bought the day before, and my ever-present dictionary and travel books came alongside my camera. Another guy had already woken the hostel worker and opened the door, so I slipped out quite easily.

I made the bus on time and arrived at Hua Shan at around 9:30 am, starting my climb at around 10:00 am. I didn't use the cable car (which seems to be THE way people go up the mountain). Climbing was hard but not tough at first, and I saw the prerequisite 'rest-stops' that most Chinese tourist attraction draw: privately run places that capitalize on the tired and weary hiker. I stopped at one at the 4 km mark; halfway up the path to the summit, but barely anywhere vertically near it. I was already a bit tired because of the steep ascent and my backpack. The sunscreen was making me sweat profusely (normal in Chinese climates). Things were mostly the same as I climbed, the odd rest-stop for a drink, though they thinned out as I got higher. These places are supplied by old men who walk up the mountain with several hundred pounds balanced on a shoulder bar. That's 2000 meters to the summit (2079 to where I got), and 8 km (or 5 miles) on the path. Add to that the return journey, and you have a picture of their life on the mountain. Most working Chinese have an extremely skinny but also extremely fit build, but these guys take the cake, hands down. When I say they have zero fat on their bodies I mean it. I'm skinny for a tall guy, but I'm fat if I stand next to them. That's not to say that they're skin and bones: the muscle they build is rather apparent. The novelty of this does not go without notice, sometimes they sing for money along the way, play flute or offer pictures with their loads on your shoulders. I paid several of them small amounts of money for these things, where I would normally ignore them had they been on the street. They work for their money, they clean the paths, and frankly anyone who climbs mountains with 200-some pounds on their shoulders daily deserves a break once in a while. I am also more easily parted with my money when I'm dead tired.

Loaded with camera case and backpack I made my way up the 'Thousand Foot Cliff' or Qianchichuang (which is definitely a thousand feet long), a staircase carved into the rock (as all of the paths are) that is at a 70-or-so degree angle to the ground. After several kilometers hike this is a daunting task, but it was not the last. At the top there is always another stair, because even when you have made your way to Beifeng (the north peak), you are still overshadowed by Wuyun Peak. I am not one to do things in halves, and this was no exception. Along with masses of Chinese hikers (I saw a total of nine white people the entire day) I ascended the mountain to the peak. This is not as easy as it sounds, and climbing mountains is never easy, even when they are complete with stairs. After several hundred meters of climbing you make a roughly 10-20 meter climb up a vertical-to-inverted-and-back wall. This is done without any protection other than the chain handrail (you can go around on stairs if you feel less adventurous). Now, I consider myself to be in fairly good shape, I'm a young guy and I make sure I get a lot of excercise. Granted, I didn't take the cable car up, but I was surprised when the back of my right leg started to hurt. It felt like I had pulled a muscle, but what I began to realize was that it was spasming. At first it was just my right calf, but then it was both of my knees and the muscles around them. I had climbed too quickly. I made it to the top just fine, but I had to sit for a couple of minutes before going the last few meters. This was a new experience for me: I was nearing my limit for climbing speed.

However, my speed paid off. I got to the summit with time left to return. And what a view. Only a chain separates you from the edge of the cliff and a thousand meter drop down to the forest below. Around me were mountains, valleys and trees growing on the sheer rock face. I've never been to a place that had so much wild area around the summit of a mountain like this (then again I hadn't been to China before). At the top I explored the rocky terrain a bit, satisfied my photographer's instinct, and finally headed down after attaching a lock with some carvings in it to the chains at the highest point of the cliff. I saw a pagoda and an obelisk with some characters I didn't recognize (though I knew some), and then took the stair down to the cable car for my ride down from just below Beifeng.

The experience was wonderful. Hua Shan is a must for any traveller who wants to see the impressive scenery of Xi'an's surrounding areas. If you don't mind missing the incredible climb from the base, and you don't want to be dead tired, you can take the cable car up too. However, I am not a person who wants to miss out on such a challenge. I felt a little less like a tourist because of the effort (and the fact that no other foreigners took the challenge to my knowledge), and then was promptly reminded why the terms 'lao wai', and 'guai lou' exist when I saw an American group come off the cable cars and promptly realize that one of them had lost their purse. When, in the instance of the few white people I saw on the mountain, I am made aware of the blunderings of others like myself I feel a little wierd. I don't want to see anyone have trouble, but I can understand why the Chinese assume white people don't understand China. At the end of the trip my boots were uncomfortable, I had finished my water, and I was tired as only a hiker can be. The cable car was the only way to get back down on time to catch the bus (many people stay on the mountain and leave the next day), but it was refreshingly easy and rather interesting to see how fast we were dropping. I eventually made my way back to the busses, though I was milked for my money the whole way by expensive drinks (5 yuan for tea!) and bus tickets.

In the end, I sit here in my hostel feeling content, and realizing why Ithaca, NY is such a nice place to grow up in. I took for granted the parks, waterfalls and gorges that when combined rival amost any other place in the world for their density. But the 'taking for granted' part won't be changing any time soon ;). So I will sleep for a long time tonight, dream of almost vertical staircases, and be smugly content with the fact that the natural wonder of the mountain far outstripped the majesty of any sight I have yet to see in China.

Why Chinese Police Are Annoying

Ok, so before you read this know that everything is fine. Anyhow:

I came back to my hostel on July 31st and got some very interesting, but sincerely annoying news. The police had showed up at our hostel and had ordered the owners to cease serving accommodation to foreigners (their entire revenue base). To get some perspective here: Meaning Hostel is run by a family; the two children (not so anymore) are the functional owners of the establishment, though the father and mother are sometimes around, along with a very adorable grandmother. Together, they run a clean, western-friendly hostel with extremely cheap prices. I pay less than three dollars a night for a dorm bed there. May and her brother also provide local food, freshly prepared, at prices that challenge even the cheapest restaurant (and the food is better). They take care of their guests as if they had become temporary family members. The father was constantly giving me advice on nutrition and healthy food and drink, the grandmother consistently offering apples, watermelon and crackers (all free of charge). I had a cold and cough while I was there, and they gave me medicine (which I have never used before), and May's brother provided boiled water for us to drink. To sum it all up: I love that place. It's a bit far out of town: maybe 20 minutes by bus, though that's still not out of Xi'an, but this is easily compensated for by numerous restaurants, street stalls and convenience stores that lead to the hostel (not to mention the bus costs around 1 yuan (the equivalent of 15 cents).

So when I heard that without notice, and without good reason (supposedly the hostel was too far from the police station), we were all going to have to leave I was shocked. This was compounded by the fact that that very night, in less than two hours after we heard the news, the police were going to search the hostel to make sure people had left (midnight was the time May said they had told her they would be coming). So, along with the other guests we evacuated the second floor, bringing others up to the dorms (which don't have air-conditioning). Gilad (an Israeli who shared my dorm for several days) and I ended up with a British eclipse-chaser who didn't sleep and was seemingly incapable of relaxing. So, at midnight, the lights went out, and we hid in the upstairs rooms hoping that they wouldn't search them.

So, we waited. And waited. Every noise, voice, or imagined footstep made us think that they had finally arrived. The click and beep of a walkie-talkie, the arrogantly loud barking of people outside, and the screech of the hostel gates closing all kept us thinking. Gilad turned off the fan on the bedside table because it was too loud, and the air become stagnant and hot. In the other section of the dorm the englishman whispered 'what's going on?' every once in a while, though our reply was always the same: 'nothing'. Gilad was in the artillery in Israel, so it's quite easy for him to fall asleep. Not so for the englishman. Eventually he got up and started pacing back and forth between the window and the door, trying to get a better view of the entrance and stairs. I took a peek out the window, but then gave up and tried to sleep. It's 1 in the morning by now. I start to think that nothing is going to happen, but I'm not sure enough to restart the fan. I'm still fully dressed, and I haven't showered, and things are sticky, dirty and not at all conducive to comfort. The night was rough, to say the least. When I finally faded off nothing had happened yet. Upon waking, I guessed that it was 7 or so; Gilad corrected me, it was 10. I guess that's what happens when you barely sleep.

But, nothing had happened. No police, no evacuations or searches, but still we had to leave that day. Some people wanted to leave Xi'an, others were going to another hostel that May had arranged near the train station. I decided that I wanted to climb Hua Shan still, so I joined the crowd going to the other hostel. May and her brother accompained us all, paid for the bus fare, and helped everyone buy tickets to their respective destinations. They took us all the way, got me a discounted bed at the new hostel, and then hugged us goodbye when we parted ways (the father also carrried one of my bags to the bus). I told them that if I ever come back to Xi'an I will stay at the Meaning Hostel, since after the olympics they will be allowed to reopen. I intend to keep my promise.

I am now at Bob's guest house, a hostel 5 minutes walk from the train station, in a dorm that costs me 20 yuan a night. We don't have out own bathroom, nor is there one on the ground floor, and the ones on the second and third don't have western toilets. On the bright side of things: I met a couple of people at the hostel, I young boy and a girl who work there. The boy taught me Mahjongg and another game something like 'connect 5'. I taught them both a simple version of 'Heck' (the name given to the game by Martha, one of my parent's neighbors). We also played some ping pong! I'm about as good as the boy (who is either 10 or 12 years old), and a bit better than the girl (who is older than I by several years). It was good to get some practice, not to mention find out how good I am in China. My plans during my two-night stay at the hostel: climb Hua Shan, and prepare for a 24-hour hard-seat ride to Hohhot, where I will also meet a friend I made at the Meaning Hostel (actually in Baotou, two hours southeast of Hohhot by bus). I wanted a sleeper because it's the only comfortable way to take the train for that long, but apparently I don't have that kind of luck. The train is slow and old, if I'm reading my ticket correctly, and I will be stuck in a similar seat to that I had from Beijing to Shanghai. I may or may not be alive afterward. But we'll see. Less than two weeks to go and the time is going quickly: though I feel like I've become a permanent resident of China. Some things are starting to catch up with me: I have cravings for dairy (often ice-cream), and chinese breakfast is not always a meal I partake in. I'm going to need to get used to forks again though.

P.S. I did indeed send an email to the Canadian Consulate in Beijing trying to find out what I can about the 'fairness' of the hostel being closed. I do this in the hopes that there is a requirement somewhere for warning previous to the forced shutdown of a business like a hostel that deals in reservations on an international basis.

Things To Get Used To

As was recently brought to my attention by the arrival of a pair of girls from Slovakia, China is really quite different from the west. I've been living here for a little while, but for long enough, and in deep enough that I don't really notice a lot of the things that makes being in China different. So I thought that for the brief moment that I was aware of these things, I would describe a few of them.

First of all is food. Likely, this is the first thing you will notice in China, at least if you take a non-tourist route. Food in China is served everywhere: streetcorners are just as popular as restaurants, and food ranges from kabobs to canteloupe. The difference is the style. Canteloupes are HUGE, vendors are plentiful, and just as interested in your dollar. You can walk around in any downtown area in any city and find food and water (for a price, of course). But, I usually enjoy frequenting slightly different neighborhoods. Off in the quieter, slower (not always) parts of town, you can find streets that are lined with restaurants. The cheapest are very small, don't have menus, and are complete with all manner of interesting sights and smells. I was brought into this world rather gently, but going to any of these places you need to get used to a few things: food is not eaten once it touches the table. Period. You are assumed to be able to pay more than you should. You have to use chopsticks, though that may be obvious. And perhaps finally, you need to have a good stomach. If the sight of weird meat being cooked gets you antsy, well, go somewhere else. This is perhaps a good piece in the life of a vegetarian in China: no wierd meat to contend with.

Second of all is shopping. Price tags are rare, found in the more expensive parts of town. Elsewhere, it is bargaining that gets you your prices. This includes tourist sights, food, souvenirs, everything. For a new arrival, this perhaps key to your survival. If you're paying prices that are acceptable in the west, then you're getting ripped off. Prices should be anywhere from 7 to 10 times cheaper in China. If the price looks acceptable were it to be in dollars or euros (using the same numbers), then you're safe. Food on the street costs the equivalent of 15 cents, more, and you're asking to be taken in. Naturally, prices are higher in the cities, where there are higher wages and generally a better quality of life. This is not a rule; you will also see some of the most heart-wrenching sights in China inside cities.

This is the next most critical thing to be aware of. In the downtown areas, giving money to beggars is like asking for a mob. Sometimes for white people, even stopping will do that. If you're female, this happens even faster, but for anyone crowds will form. Last night for instance that was the scene when the a couple of girls stopped to pet a dog. There were more than thirty people encircling them in the space of a minute. However, it is the cripples that will test your patience. The Chinese have perfected the art of the pitiful cripple. You will see sights that will make your stomach do a blackflip, and you will be followed by poor children. But the second money shows up, you better be willing to dish out. So far I have limited myself to the monks, and to the less crowded parts of town where a couple yuan goes unnoticed and doesn't draw crowds, and is perhaps more appreciated. Similarly to your shopping: do your giving at the end of the trip, just before you leave, as inconspicuously as possible.

So far as dirt is concerned, there is one thing that creates this image in a foreigner's head. It is the simple fact that the streets are seen to be external to the private venues operated by the locals that results in the dirty back streets you can see in most cities. This is actually very similar to last century's europe: wash water went out the window, as did garbage. China has yet to change this view. You will see garbage thrown on the ground, and spitting inside busses. This is just part of the Chinese experience. If you don't want to deal with that, stick to downtown Shanghai, Beijing, and to paying a fistfull.

And when it comes to tourism: see the Great Wall and the Forbidden City, see Yangshuo's many sights, and perhaps a pagoda or two; and then stick to things off the beaten path. My best times in China have been unplanned, often talking with locals, or discovering new things. To sum it up: a traveler must be adventurous.

Xi'an: Backroads, Bingmayong

Well, as with much of the tourist attractions in China, those in Xi'an are highly touristy. Many attractions are located near street markets (the best of which is outside the Great Mosque). It is often these markets that provide the most entertainment, rather than the attractions themselves. I have yet to purchase anything from the real street markets, though I plan to in Beijing before I leave China. Anyhow, I can say this for Xi'an: it does supply considerable activity.
In this way, it is like Beijing, being both large enough and old enough to have the kind of history that brings in the tourist dollar. But that's not to say that tourism is the only kind of activity available. As I have perhaps already made clear, my favourite neighborhoods are the back-streets, complete with a population of ZERO white people (except of course for those walking though; me). Here you are the attraction, food is cheap and plentiful, and you see the things that older chinese city culture is famous for: seafood markets, roadside food stalls, and street vendors. Here, the souvenirs dwindle, the staring quadruples, the spitting doubles, the roadside card games appear, and the laid-back culture of the poorer classes comes out in its real colours. Sometimes, you can buy the local specialty, Suan Mei *something* juice along the side of the road (strawberry or grape?) at the equivalent of 15 cents. Wandering around like this today was the real adventure, but first I will describe the beginning of our day (Myself, Gilad, Ana, Lidi).
Today was the Bingmayong Day. As I am sure you know, the Terra-Cotta Warriors are a world-renown spectacle that draws visitors from every corner of the planet. This is complete with three 'pits' of warriors, and a rather measly museum. We did the 'reverse' route from the museum back from pit 3 to pit 1, meaning that we completed a 'build-up' to the main event in pit 1. All of the pictures, all of the images and thoughts add up to pit 1. The rest...I'm not so sure.
Walking into pit 3 was a big let-down. There is almost no real detail, and the real sights are in glass cases off to the side of the museum. Thus, pit 3 was a good place to start. Pit 2 was a bit better, with very few warriors and horses, though most of them were complete and in good condition. Then it was on to the part we hoped would hold the impression we wanted to take with us. Following the crowd around the back let us the long way around, but eventually we got to the entrance. Walking in we all had our fingers crossed, but the sight was indeed rewarding.There in pit 1 were the rows on rows of terra-cotta men that you can seen in pictures, the excavated pits, the horses and partially restored fragments of the other warriors. I went camera-happy, much to the chagrin of my fellow travellers. I was the one who stayed the extra two seconds waiting for the shot (at every angle and location). Oh, to have a DSLR.
After the warriors was fairly much an exploration of the city proper. We walked from the train station down through the alleys to the business and shopping districts to the west of the Zhong Lou.
For me, this felt somewhat routine, which is perhaps the irony of the day, being that the real fun was had providing some help to our new arrivals, one of which is vegetarian, and thus somewhat restricted food-wise. One way or another I'm going to call it a very good day, seeing as I saw one of the wonders of the world, and then spent the rest of the day in the city. Ta-ta for now. Check facebook for the photos.

First Class to Funky Style

Well, the train to Xi'an was packed. I ended up on the only train for the next five days that still had tickets available, and even then, I had to pay extra and ended up in the soft sleeper (the train's most comfortable lodging. Very different from my first and even second train rides. This time, people were quiet, I slept well, and in the end I ended up getting some good practice with my Mandarin (Hanyu) listening skills. This is the area in which I need the most help. Thus, whenever I get the chance, I try to understand the conversations around me. Usually, I can get the gist, minus any real details (the long and complicated words I don't know).

I met an English couple on the train, who I talked with for a while toward the end of the journey. We parted ways as soon as the train hit the platform, and I made my way to the exit where I hoped my ride was going to meet me. The result was a stressful five minutes of waiting, after which a guy who works at the hostel arrived and gave me a lift on his moped.

Now, for those of you that don't know: the bike is a much rarer thing in China these days than it used to have been. Now, it is the motorized bike, moped, and motorcycle that have taken its place. Anyhow, we arrived in my kind of neighborhood; the kind of neighborhood where you see vendors on the side of the road, and convenience stores in every possible location imaginable. This is where you get to see the life that a vast number of chinese have come to know in recent years. Giant cities that spring up out of nowhere are filled with places like this. For a less adventurous traveller, I would stay steer clear, but I can feel fairly safe here.

Continuing on that thought: my hostel is a very interesting place. Smack-dab in the middle of a run-down block on the outskirts of Xi'an. The owners are a brother and sister (the sister is of course the one that can speak english the best), and their mother and grandmother. They even serve good food here too! My room is on the third floor, minus the air conditioning, though it doesn't get too hot. Right now I am sharing the two rooms with one other person, a girl from up north somewhere I think (paying the equivalent of less than three dollars a night). Anyhow, my first day in the city will be today, so I'm excited! Supposedly Xi'an has China's best history museum, not to mention some great pagodas.

Yangshuo - aka, A Biker's Paradise

Arrival in Yangshuo was rather amusing. I spent the previous night in a sleeper bus talking with some of the locals who were heading home from Guangzhou. One of the girls (guys in China almost never can/want to speak english) was the most capable of carrying on a conversation with me, during half of which I spoke Hanyu, the other half English. This way, both of us got a bit of verbal excercise. It seemed to be that she was sharing a 'bed' (tiny sleeping pad) with a woman who was either her mother, or older sister (probably the latter). Anyhow, I was invited to their house, but although I would have loved to visit, the several kilometers between the hostel and the house, plus it's rather inconvenient direction from the city meant that in the two days I had in Yangshuo I didn't make it over there to visit. This is also because on the second day I had to go to the train station in Guilin (again, with another friend that I met the night before). We had to buy the ticket and try to meet the other guys we had been hanging out with the night before, then pick up her luggage in Guilin. By the time the bus returned, it was dinner time. So, my two days turned into one and a half, though I must say that I can't complain, seeing as I met a great number of people there that I will enjoy keeping in touch with. Anthony was a student who worked there, who had come from Pheonix City (I can't remember the Hanyu), and Reila was a visitor for the summer from a city near Hangzhou (south of Shanghai). There was also a guy from Australia (Alex), and a guy from England (Simon), who had great fun with us. My first night in Yangshuo we stopped by a little store and bought some refreshments, then headed down to the waterfront: a beautiful stone terrace, with candle-lit tables, coupled with a light-show on the opposite side of the river. Anyhow, I will miss the place.

So far as the sights go - Yangshuo takes the cake. I biked about 40k that first day, first past the Moon Hill/Mountain, then to a little town to the south, and finally cutting through the countryside on a dirt road to the water cave.

Now for the touristy part. The water cave is so popular with tourists that they have people everywhere trying to get you to go. Added to this is the supposedly large number of 'fake' water caves, for which there are signs everywhere. I was even stopped by an extremely diminutive old woman who was essentially the proprietor of a scam to get tourists to pay her for the cave entrance. Midway through the speech she was giving me (which I had no intention of following), a truck pulled up and some younger chinese folk inquired as to what was happening. I thanked them, given that they had just provided me with an escape route, then pedalled off toward what I hoped was the real thing. This involved considerably more biking than I assumed it would, but I'm not complaining, because it was through some incredibly beautiful country. I think that my favorite moment in all of my time in China was right there, at the top of the hill just before I descended toward the water cave.

I had been biking for twenty minutes at a good speed from the last building I saw, when I began to enter a small village. Here, people harvested crops, worked in the streets, and took their time with life. I was an anomaly, perhaps more so than elsewhere in China, but not in such a way that I didn't feel welcome. I enjoyed the new sights, and as I left the village, I wondered how many of these there were in the area. No sooner than I entered the town, I had left it. And with the rather scorching heat, and the 30 degree ascent ahead of me, I wasn't thinking about quiet towns anymore; I was thinking: why, sun, must you be so intent on baking me alive? A car passed me, and I envyed the air-conditioned atmosphere that the riders must have been enjoying. I decided I would prove my choice of self-propulsion to be superior, and biked my butt off to the top of the hill. This was one of those moments when I just knew I had made a good choice. I crested the top after the car, head down, and sweaty, and then took a quick glance up ahead to check for more cars. What I got instead was a valley worthy of a fairly tale. Down below were fertile fields, unmarred by modern construction, ringed by incredibly steep green slopes. I just sat there for a while taking in the view.

Then, it was time to go to the Water Cave. The descent was very nice, no pedalling needed, and took me right to the entrance of the cave. This was of course flanked by merchants of food, sandals and ice-cream. I headed over to the ticket 'office' and quickly discovered that there weren't any prices (this means bargaining). I was quotes 175 for the full tour, and 120 for half. This was reduced by a full 55 after a word or two, and then down to 90 for the full tour (I should have kept going). Anyhow, I soon learned that the 'guides' know english only by wrote. They were capable of heavily accented descriptions, but the funny part was that they then started talking to each other in Hanyu. This opened a window for me. I became the unofficial translator, and with some difficulty, I told the Israeli couple what the guides were trying to say. I enjoyed a few conversations as we headed deeper into the cave, along with some more lengthy discussions of our two languages. One thing that I think is absolutely fantastic about China: not so many rules and guidelines. We were allowed to climb up the side of the cave to an overhang complete with little pools of water and some stalagmites. At the end of the tour there was even a swimming pool, though I lacked the clothes to participate (actually, no one swam). This was, I think, a better alternative to the mud-bath halfway down the cave, complete with a little digital picture station. One way or another though, the water cave added up to be fairly impressive, worth the time, and probably the most interesting 'tourist' destination in Yangshuo that I saw.

The next day was spent doing two things: taking care of the extreme sunburn on my legs, and buying a ticket to Xi'an, leaving the following evening for a 27 hour ride.

Organizing Travel - In Mandarin

Well, I was going to go to a travel agency to pick up a ticket to Kaiping for tomorrow - though I couldn't find one. Apparently the travel prices are cheaper with an agent (according to my local friend) However, I will now return to the Fangcun bus station to buy my own, after going there already this morning to get a ticket for Yangshuo. Anyhow - the long and short of it is that I want to get better at this process. Most of the time my Hanyu (Mandarin) is sufficient to speak to a ticket vendor, but when it comes to colloquial expression of time I'm not as good as I might be. As for english - no one really speaks it - the most helpful of chinese will often pipe up when you obviously are confused (or are confusing someone). This confusion occurs more often the farther outside of Beijing you are, hence the farther you are from native Hanyu speakers.

On another note, when asking for directions the best choices are uniformed officers, but even then, ask multiple people to make sure you get the same directions (most of the time you don't). English speakers are often more able at giving directions, but not necessarily at knowing them. Most people should get a good map.