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.

People.

When I came to China, I was prepped and ready for all kinds of things. I was ready for the art scams, and ready for the prices, ready for bargaining, and ready to avoid the multitudes of beggars. But today I learned something new.

I set out today to find a Bank of China in Guangzhou. I arrived downtown at Gongyuanqian Station via the subway. I got out and headed in the direction I thought a bank might be in. I walked past a market, past a million different shops, past a beggar on the sidewalk, and then I came to a small square downtown.

On one side of the street there was a temple, or at least what seemed to be one, while on the other was a road. As I walked past the temple, a monk (or at least what seemed to be a monk)dressed in classic (though modernly fabricated) garb approached me and handed me a little red package. I was reluctant to accept it, because I know that 99% of the time these things are scams. Sure enough, when I started to walk away the monk addressed me and held out an english piece of paper describing why he wanted my money. Now, I know that scams here are complex, so I still wasn't convinced, and I'm still not. However, I decided that I could give some money since I was feeling generous. I gave the monk ten yuan and then told him that I would return with more once I went to the bank. Again, usually a bad idea. I didn't really know if I should return or not. I ended up having to go back to the hostel to find my passport anyway, but in the end, after I had made my exchange I decided I would give the monk the full sum I had written on the paper (50 yuan). This is still a safe amount, since it's no more than $9 US. From the bank I had to go get my passport at the hostel, which I did, and then walked back up toward Gongyuanqian and ran into the monk again. I gave him the extra money, and he thanked me. But that wasn't the end of it all.

Another monk came after me and gave me what seemed to be a simple wooden-bead necklace. I accepted it and put it in my pocket. Now, he started to follow me. I walked a little faster, and told him in Hanyu that I had already given the other man the only money I intended to give. Still, he wouldn't leave. I'd had this happen once before, at the Great Wall. People would be followed for kilometers by sellers of souvenirs. I decided that I would out-walk him (what I did on the wall). I walked faster. He walked faster.

After a block or two of non-stop pulling on my pocket I was getting annoyed. I told myself to accept it as just part of my experience. I kept walking. I told him over and over that I had given the other man my money. He continued. We walked for what must have been a kilometer in total. Once, some Chinese men saw us and tried to stop him (without continued success). Either they knew something I didn't or they just didn't have the time to continue. He came after me again. I saw a subway station up ahead and went straight for it. He went down the stairs. I was very annoyed by now. Finally, after reaching the station I thought of something. I had put my hand in my pocket, and felt the necklace still there. Hmm...I took it out and asked him if he wanted it (in Hanyu). He immediatly reached out for it, and stopped his pursuit. When I got on the train it made me think.

Was this guy the real deal? Was I being callous, or dumb for not understanding his speech? I was extremely rattled by the whole event one way or another. At least I had realized that it was the necklace he wanted. Then again, had he just been wanting the money and only then decided that I had symbolically 'given up'? I still don't know for sure, but this experience taught me something. When you have understood a situation, you can act accordingly. Be cautious, but do not be callous even with those people you meet who may deserve it until you understand that you must be so. As a tourist, one of the most powerful weapons you wield is simple tolerance (and sometimes purposeful concentration on that which will free you of your follower).

Trains...

Well, I literally just landed/arrived in Guangzhou. The train took 21 hours, and I was smart enough to get a bed. I read a new Hanyu book that I got in Shanghai for most of it, and slept for the rest. As for the train, the sleeping compartments are a lot nicer than the seating ones. They don't smell, there are clean sheets, and the beds are fairly comfortable.

Buying the ticket was perhaps the most fun. I walked up to a Chinese-speaking counter, and gave it a try. In the end I wound up with a lower bunk for 369 yuan. Divide that by seven -- not a bad price (~54 dollars). I left Shanghai thinking that I would be there at some weird hour of the night and ended up there at 7:00 am. The trains are much slower than they are between Beijing and Shanghai.

Hopefully my mindfog will clear after a nap and some food, but until then, this post shall be a most painfully slow one. So, I will take a break, and then after a day of two out on Guangzhou I shall be back!

The Big City

Really. There isn't much point in trying to communicate the giganticness, since I myself have only experienced a little bit of it. Suffice it to say that Shanghai is, as I have said to those who ask: Vancouver on NYC steroids. Shanghai is all about the new, modern, and expensive. It isn't all huge, but just to give some people my perspective on the matter: I've been living in the boonies for eleven years (at least compared to anything like this).

Upon arrival, I had two, maybe three things to deal with: luggage, food, and the fact that I hadn't slept in a day. Not to mention I hadn't really brought a map. Thankfully, I learned a few things from my stay in Beijing. First things first, find a subway. In any big city, the subway is almost always the best way to get from point to point for the pedestrian traveller. It is usually distributed in such a way that a visitor can connect with any part of the city he or she wishes: and it still allows some walking time since it isn't a door to door service. Thus, I chose to take the subway to Renmin Guangchang: People's Square. This is the hub of the 'old' city, at least old in that it has been downtown for as long as the town planners had anything to say about it. Pudong, on the other hand, is the land of new growth, rather than old power. Pudong may not be the Bund, but it does have sights to compare. Skyscraper-size tv (literally), the Oriental Pearl TV Tower, the Jin Mao building, and many other modern achievements are housed there. From the Square, I found a three-story, luxury-style Pizza hut with western toilets (something I had missed in Beijing...) along with the Shanghai Grand Theatre, and to my surprise: a pair of rather eager shoeshiners.

This incident began and ended rather suddenly. I was walking down one of the largest streets in downtown Shanghai, and suddenly I was stopped by a man with a wooden box and a shoeshining brush. Stopped, that is to say, in that he squirted some of his polish onto my shoe while walking past, and then proceeded to hold my pant-leg as I tried to pull it away. No sooner had I been stopped then another shoeshiner, this time a woman, grabbed my other leg. I was stuck. I was trying to get away, but they were holding me there, and there was nothing short of kicking them that I could do, save to tug repeatedly at my own legs. Finally, they relenquished their grip and I was free to go, though not without them yelling after me: '10 yuan, 10 yuan!' Needless to say I didn't feel that they had done me a service. I walked off with a blot of white goo on each foot.

My need for food came next. Having seen the extortionate prices that were asked for in the Square, I walked out of the central area. Pizza cost an arm and a leg, and was simply cheese and beans (I think), so I gave it a pass. Finally, I decided I would go with a Starbucks. There, I knew I could find coffee (for my need of caffeine), air conditioning, and a place to eat what was left of the food I had brought with me on the train. I spent an hour or two there nursing my iced cappuccino (the staff began to think of me as a permanent fixture). Eventually I set off to see what Shanghai had to offer.

My first thought was to go see Pudong. I took the subway again, first to a rather protrusive sculpture that seemed to be a disc with a needle through it, finalizing a corridor between two ultra-modern buildings: one of which was the Shanghai Science and Technology Museum. Eventually I thought I would go to the Oriental Pearl to see the view. This was rather disappointing, as the cost for entry was very high, and when I looked behind me I saw an even taller structure. Jin Mao is the second tallest building in Shanghai. It's neighbor is still under construction, though it is a bit taller. Jin Mao offers a 360 degree view, and, an 88 story internal view down to the ground floor. One is shocked by the fact that the floor you stand on as you look down is already built over the gaping hole you are looking down. It's one thing to look down from a solid structure, quite another to look down frerom one that it already 'suspended'. Jin Mao is right in the middle of a huge construction zone, so the hardest part was finding a way to it from the park at it's foot. I felt rewarded upon discovery of the entrance to the observation deck.

Later, it was time for Jimmy to pick me up. He had an apartment in Shanghai, and offered to give me somewhere to live while I was in the city. Given that I had no clue how to get there, he offered to pick me up, so I met him at the foot of the rather gigantic structure of Jin Mao. Later, after a dinner on the Pudong riverbank, we found our way through the city to the apartment, where I was extremely happy to find a fully western bathroom and a shower (another thing I hadn't done over the night stuck in a train). The next day I met his mom and aunt at his parents' apartment for dinner (which was very tasty, albeit that I couldn't really converse in any length with his aunt). I was feeling very welcome, and looking forward to the week ahead.

For much of the time I've been here in Shanghai, the pattern was thus: I would stay home during the day, study Hanyu (Mandarin) and finalize trip plans, and then we would drive out in the evenings to see the city. We saw the night markets in the subways stations, more of People's Square, the G+ club in downtown, and the Shanghai International Church. I enjoy seeing the city in this manner: it is so large that the nightlife is where it's at. One night we went out for food late and discovered a place called 'Joy-full'. There was a police officer working doubletime as a doorman, and a menu full of cheap but tasty western food. All-in-all a great find.

The one thing I did do on my own was to walk down Wuzhong Lu to the downtown area. This was an adventure that took me through a streetside food market, and past a number of interesting little shops that did everything from metalwork to pet care. Eventually the street turned into Panyu Lu, and I was walking past skyscrapers instead of stores (though those did persist on the other side). There was a good deal of european architecture, including stone relief sculpted into several robed figures. I took a few pictures, and headed back the other way. This time, I realized what else I had been walking past on the way downtown. Scattered among the salons, convenience stores, copy-shops, and a smattering of other tiny places were over a dozen glass-walled, unlabelled venues. They were spaced out along the road on both sides and when I looked in I could see that there was barely anything in them except for some pink lighting and chairs. At first I thought that they might be something benign, but there really was no mistaking the occupation of the women waiting in the windows. I was surprised to find this on such a busy road. Six lanes of traffic, grocery stores and apartment buildings were most of what took up the area.

This seems to be a phenomenon of China; which really does speak volumes about how fast the country is growing. Both this, and the number of convenience stores placed around the streets. Because of the high population density, places that have a variable clientele, like convenience stores and brothels, thrive. In comparison to Beijing, one can see a direct parallel in the number of convenience stores. I had two stored within a minute's walk of my hostel (more if you speak figuratively), where I could pick up orange juice on the way back from the local market.

But on to more travel, there are only so many words to the wise that can be stomached in one paragraph (that was supposed to be ironic). Anyhow, my experience in Shanghai has been a great one. If nothing else, it has been nice to take a break from the backpacker's lifestyle, and to get a bit more street-smart at the same time. Though it has made me miss the life that waits for me back in Canada, I wouldn't want to miss this experience for the world.

One Thing I Shall Never Do Again (I Hope)

The Beijing Railway Station was daunting. I had to get off at a different station on the subway trying to get there (as the regular one was closed), and I was fairly lost. Normally I would decline a ride on the back of a motorized bicycle for 10 yuan, but I really needed someone who knew the way. We scooted through traffic, and a back route, and emerged at the side of what seemed like the most busy place I had ever seen. It was as I imagine Times Square to be on New Years, except - all the time. Busy, neon, and enormous. Making my way through wasn't too bad, though I seem to have almost uncanny luck when it comes to just 'picking the right direction'. I ended up at the train in plenty of time, though the station was as big as an airport; it was complete with baggage scanners, escalators, and multiple departure and arrival levels.

There are some times when you just know you've made a mistake. This was one of those times. I walked into the crowded seating car (number 4) on the train, and realized that I had gotten a window seat. Now, normally this is a good thing on a daytime ride. You get to catch some scenery, and you even have a wall to lean against if you feel like sleeping on the night run. Unfortunately, the seat was not designed to be comfortable by western standards. The table had a lower mini-level that interfered with my legs just enough to keep the seat from being comfortable. My knees are also just a bit too long, so as to get in everyone else's way. The curtain smelled slightly of urine (where I had to put my head), and no one was quiet the entire night. Not to mention the completely new idea of being in close bodily contact with someone you don't know and can't sufficiently talk to for 13 hours. This is compounded by the fact that the seat is too close to the table to lean in and sleep on it. When you add it all up: it really sucks. I'm taking a bed car next time.

Thus, we arrived in Shanghai, after what seemed an age of passage through the countryside. I was extremely grateful for the newfound personal space.

ChangCheng, Hanyu, and HouHai

After a few days of being 'around the city', I felt like staying at the hostel for a while, to get to know the people who worked there (all conveniently near in age to myself). At first, there was a considerable language barrier between us, or at least, what we percieved to be a barrier. After a day or so of being around one another more often, people began to open up. Among the friends I made were Jane, Adieule (I think that's how you spell it), Nick (with whom I will stay in Beijing for a night when I return from Guangzhou and Xi'an), Stefan, Viyan, and several other chinese guys and girls. Jane was the friendliest of the bunch at first. She knew a fair amount of english, and was extremely helpful. One night, Nick and I went out with her and a friend, whereupon we discovered the restaurant I used for the rest of my stay. It was a muslim place: clean, visual menus, family-run, small, cheap, and had good food. Ironically, there was a dish there that did such a good job of looking like Italian pasta, I think I actually prefer it to anything I've ever had. And this is in the middle of a hutong, tucked away from the world. Talk about weird, huh?

Jane left after a couple of days, and then I made freinds with Adieule. She was the most fluent in english after Jane left, and had a decidedly large amount of fun attempting to teach me the names of everything. I exchanged some english tutoring, and we were learning pretty fast. As for Nick and Stefan they hailed from the west, specifically California and Germany, respectively. Nick was the first one to arrive, and was a return visitor. He wasn't a very good teacher, but he had been to Beijing for eight months previously, and knew enough Putonghua (Hanyu or Mandarin by another name) to converse fairly freely. He was my guide to a few of the most interesting parts of Beijing: the Silk Market, the local food market, and the subway. Stefan arrived later on, and left fairly early. He was from Germany, but had been travelling in Japan for a couple of months immediately before coming to China. He spoke fairly good english, and used that to talk to just about everyone. Viyan was from Shenzhen, along with Adieule. She offered to be my guide through Guangzhou, were I to need one. She showed up only for a couple of days, but was more fluent in english than anyone else (conversational, and we were able to swap favorite bands).

As for the many others, they had their moments. One of Adieule's friends ran an online magazine: 'Vagrancy', about the lives of travelling youth, including some of China's most beautiful scenery. She asked me some questions about China, and about my impression of it, and took several pictures for the interview. I was quite amused at the prospect. Two other local guys also enjoyed my company. Liu (whose last name is the only part I could remember) was boyfriend to the magazine editor, as well as being a self-made musician, whose band is called 'Thumb Girl'. The other guy was big, enthusiastic about western entertainment, and is the one who first told me that I should visit Xi'an (Western Peace is the literal translation). Xi'an is host to the terracotta warriors, as well as to a number of other impressive sights. It also possesses a nice hostel, for a rather cheap price. They both taught me some words in Putonghua; 'Chabuduo' - 'similar', is the one I remember being taught.

I had hung around for long enough. If there was one thing that I could not miss while in China, it was the Great Wall: otherwise known as Changcheng (long wall). I hiked it with Stefan: we decided to go from Jinshanling to Simatai, a long haul that brought us more than ten kilomenters from our starting point. You can be certain of two things when hiking the wall: almost the entire way (from Jinshanling to Simatai) is either insanely steep, or guarded by local vendors. These crazy people will walk with you the entire way, proffering everything from books and souvenirs to iced beer (not the best idea on the wall). We didn't buy anything until the very end of the hike (ice cream tasted sooo good). The wall itself was awesome, though one is stopped just before the exit to buy another ticket for Simatai, along with a 5 yuan footbridge toll. What are you going to do? Hike back? It was enjoyable though. Walking on the old wall through endlessly green mountains and terraces was very interesting. Compared to the Forbidden City, it was paradise for the less 'popularly' inclined. Transportation was a bit touch-and-go however. We took a minibus - aka: some guy has a car and wants to make money. From the Dongzhimen subway station and transport hub we took a regular bus to Miyun, then bargained for a 130 yuan passage to the wall itself (it's a long ride). On the way back, be paid 100 yuan to get to another minibus, that cost 10 yuan, and took us the rest of the way to Dongzhimen.

Needless to say, I wanted to stay at the hostel again the next day. I alternated travel and learning Putonghua at the hostel. Then, on nearly the last day I was there, I went to see Hou Hai to completion. Hou Hai is a rather picturesque little lake in the middle of Beijing, about 5 minutes walk from the hostel. It possesses innumerable bars (all very expensive of course), that prey on the tourist population. There are also rickshaws, and a pair of old towers, that are worth at least one visit. Ironically, after walking aroud the lake, it turned out that Adieule also planned to go through the hutong near it. After I got back, she took me through some very interesting hutong (she's not a local herself, so it was just as new), and to my first experience with 'real' chinese fast food. Steamed buns, congee, and cold tofu and greenbeans were all rather interesting, especially for a Canadian who hadn't fully experienced the other, less greasy side to authentic Chinese food - except at Dim Sum. Qing Feng steamed buns weren't bad (a lot better than the veggie buns in the market). For the traveling vegetarian, the phrase "Shenme shi meiyou rou?" is quite critical (what doesn't have meat?/what is without meat?).

After that, all that was left to do with my time there was to get my ticket. I purchased a 179 yuan seat on a 13-hour train that left at 8:20 pm on the 25th.

Being the Tourist

Beijing is about making a connection between history of China's ancient culture, and the future represented by cities like Shanghai, and Hong Kong. So, after spending some time getting used to my lodgings and the surrounding area, I decided to set out on foot to see the city. To this effect, I headed deeper into the network of hutong that led away from the hostel.

This took me away from the cleaner, more tourist-friendly areas of the hutong neighborhoods (more on this later). I walked by decrepit buildings whose courtyards were still filled with the refuse of their previous populace. Cars got rarer, and the classic mode of transportation that China became famous for: the bicycle, became even more prevalent. Along with the two-wheeled variety, there are three-wheeled carts that are used by much of the local neighborhoods to transport almost everything, including people, cardboard, garbage, and all manner of other goods. Heavily loaded doesn't even begin to cover the size of the loads I've seen (and I haven't see the largest).

Anyhow, I made it to the first big street, which just so happened to be close to a bridge that led to Jing Shan park: and a famously grand view of the Forbidden City. 'Shan' is the Hanyu word for 'mountain', though in this case, the mountain was man-made. All of the dirt that makes up the mountain itself was taken from the moat that surrounds the Forbidden City, and hauled manually there, giving its height even more grandeur. As if this isn't plenty, the walk through the park to and up the mountain (hill) is serenaded by groups of locals, singing, with conductors or radios, old songs that sound like they were recorded during china's Mao years. Very classic.

I walked up the mountain, surprised to find a series of pagodas at the top (restored, of course), the most magnificent of which housed a gigantic statue of a Buddha. Though the fog and smog was rather bad that day, the view was still definitely an astonishing one - especially for someone who hasn't seen the Forbidden City with their own eyes before.

I continued walking through the park, down the other side of the mountain, and then over to Bei Hai park. This one was more geared toward tourists, and there were vendors and ticket booths everywhere. One refreshing thing did happen as I was walking through there though: I paused to take a picture of a round doorway, and a girl decided to jump through. I didn't even attempt to time the shot - it just, happened that way. I continued through the park, saw some old trees and buildings including the 'Round City' near the exit towards the Forbidden City itself.

Then, I decided to do the walk to the Forbidden City. Down the wall, past endless numbers of convenience stores and gates, I walked to the western gate, and then down the access road to the southern gate, where I paid the 60 yuan entrance price quite willingly. Dodge a few 'guides', avoid a scam artist or two, and you're in.

First thing I'd say is: HUGE. The initial courtyard is not large, it's gigantic. There are paths in the stone that have been restored, and most of the roofs have been as well, diminishing their once stately magnificence. The Forbidden City is anything but ancient. It does have some ancient construction that has survived through the ages: mostly metals and stonework. Many wooden doors and ceramic roofs have been replaced, and after several hours walking past the same ornamentation again and again: it can get tiring. Still, there are many wonders to be seen within the expanse of the city. The gigantic central halls are the least of these, though their stonework and the view from the terraces outside is something to be marveled at. The best, and most interesting sights are the side corridors, and the views through closed gates: something that can be a rather tantalizing 'forbidden fruit', if you'll forgive the pun, for those who enjoy putting their eyes to keyholes. After several hours, one's feet are sore (if you walked there), one's mind is bored with the repetitive gold-and-red designs, and one is ready to go. Take the subway home.

Arrival in Beijing

Arrival was like nothing I expected. As we neared the city, the air outside went from black to brown. The smog was intense. All the way from 2000 feet or so, to 50 feet off the ground, we couldn't see a thing. Finally, emerging from the 'cloud', I got my first glimpse of China's capital, or at least, the airport. Upon entering the gigantic Terminal 3 (I think that's the one), I could see the utterly monstrous size of the place. The ceiling was easily 200 feet up. Walking in with a single planeload felt like walking through a deserted city, up to customs, at which the feeling changed entirely. Passing through was easy (no Mandarin required). Not to mention everything, and I mean everything is in English. Then, of course, came my first experience with Beijing's infamously packed subway lines (this one was an airport shuttle). Everyone comes to China thinking that they will be awash in a sea of people: that it will be foreign, strange and utterly congested with pedestrians. Not so. Perhaps it is busier than North American public transit - but not on a regular basis is it truly as packed as the stories say it is.

Having walked for several hundred meters to get to the exit (that's the challenge), I found myself in a taxi with no ability to communicate the location of my hostel to my driver. After about 15 minutes of 2-becomes-3 lane driving, I found the number of my hostel, called it, and spent the next hour and a half (or at least what seemed like it) in the taxi, learning pinyin pronunciations, my first being that of the Jishuitan station (Jeeshwaytan, tones:1,3,1 I think).

Having made our way to Deshengmen Nei Dajie (duhshungmeun nay dahjie, tones:2,4,0,1,4,1), we pulled into Dashihu Hutong, and up to the most classic set of chinese gates I could have imagined. Entirely red, they contained a smaller door for personal entry, and old iron-bar padlocks. My hostess/hostel manager spoke some english-- a very welcome sound to hear in a strange city.

Walking into the hostel, it became apparent just how classic it was. An open courtyard contained the doors to all of the rooms, with the main office and bathroom on separate walls of the same courtyard.

It took some time to get used to the surroundings - but I learned to love it. I spent the first day at the hostel learning a bit more about my surroundings. Of the things that I discovered, the best was the traditional market, just a couple of minutes walk from the hostel itself. There, as long as one was canny enough to realize that westerners were asked for twice the regular price, one could obtain a cheap, tasty, and quite authentic meal.

Travel

It took me quite a while to make my way from the end of my first year of UoG to Beijing, China. I spent a month at home, and then a day in Toronto, and then two weeks in Vancouver, and then virtually a day in the air, just getting there. Of course, having heard the saying 'the journey is more important than the destination', I knew this was going to be one of the best parts of my trip: the travel. I learned a lot from those few weeks I spent in between home and Beijing. I ate my first Dim Sum (real Dim Sum), I met my girlfriend's parents, I learned how to handle horses, and about the excitement that builds as your horse reaches the finish line. I learned a lot about China, too in my efforts to get there.

I understand my visa status in China and in the US better than I did before, I've spent ages learning Chinese from my dictionary (yes, I'm nuts like that), and I have experienced the full range of Chinese lifestyles. But let me start from the beginning again. It's sometime around 11:00 am in Vancouver, on June 12th, 2008.

Having braved the secondary security check at the US customs office, I arrived at the terminal that handled my flight to Beijing, via San Fran. I'd had to leave my water outside security (an amusing prospect when it comes to short flights, and a painful one when you consider a 12-hour flight in a multilevel jet with only a few stewards/esses to dispense the precious liquid. Once on the plane I met Dan, an Australian with considerable Asian heritage that gave me some more on-target advice than I had previously recieved. He was a fellow traveller, spending time circumnavigating the states. We talked until San Fran, then dodged off to catch our connections, which is where things get really interesting.

Apparently, the San Francisco International Airport picked that day to have rolling blackouts. Result: checking no baggage saved my ass. The Air China check-in was down, and nothing was happening. I waited a while, but eventually people started getting antsy, and one of the others in line asked an attendant if there was some way to get going faster. As it turns out, we were allowed to check in at the gate, even though seat reservations evidently don't exist for Air China (but there was still space on the plane). My seat turned out to be immediatly in front of the tv, positioned directly in the center on the middle aisle such that my view was of wall or tv, nothing else (I'm not actually complaining, because it meant that I had reasonable leg room).

There wasn't much to say of the flight, save for the fact that it was long, I was tired, and leg room counts for nothing when you've been sitting on your ass for that long.