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.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
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.
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.
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