Fengdu - the city of ghosts.
Gorges of the Yangtze
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
From Travellers to Tourists
Trains stress me out. Chinese trains send me into a panic. Chengdu Station is better than the Beijing one, but people are the same: they push, they can't queue and passing the security checks with 80kg luggage while trying not to lose your daughters is a nightmare. Luckily the only tickets left were the expensive ones (5 euro a ticket for a 4 hour journey!) so we could use the VIP lounge where we spent a couple of hours before departure. Once again we were the only Westerners around, once again people were open, curious, almost anxious to make friends. After the initial faff getting settled into your seat, the train is always a good place to have a chat, to observe and learn something about the locals. Within the first hour, Brendan had engaged his neighbours into a debate on regional variations of Chinese cuisine. Soon even another four from the next row joined the discussion and half of the carriage was happily talking food. Sara and I, without any chance to contribute, were busy doing her maths homework under the scrutiny of our travel companions who commented on every page of the maths book, giving us big smiles every time Sara got the answers right. Getting off the train, everybody helped us with the luggage.
In Chongqing, our destination, we switched worlds. At the station, the tour operator came to collect us to bring us to the boat where we'll be spending the next three days on the Yangtze River, through the Three Gorges Dam, all the way to Yichang where we'll finally catch a flight to Shanghai. For the first time since we left home we give in to the luxury of delegating all responsibility, while putting ourselves in the capable hands of the organizers of the cruise. The idea of being just passengers for the next three days is pleasant but at the same time it feels odd to stick to somebody else's timetable. Even our travel mates are different from before, mostly English speaking and part of a group tour. The contrast with the atmosphere cultural-hippy from Sim's Garden Hostel is dramatic. The change requires a mental readjustment. Apart from everything, it is simply wonderful being able to dump your dirty jeans into the laundry bag to find them magically cleaned and ironed some hours later!
In Chongqing, our destination, we switched worlds. At the station, the tour operator came to collect us to bring us to the boat where we'll be spending the next three days on the Yangtze River, through the Three Gorges Dam, all the way to Yichang where we'll finally catch a flight to Shanghai. For the first time since we left home we give in to the luxury of delegating all responsibility, while putting ourselves in the capable hands of the organizers of the cruise. The idea of being just passengers for the next three days is pleasant but at the same time it feels odd to stick to somebody else's timetable. Even our travel mates are different from before, mostly English speaking and part of a group tour. The contrast with the atmosphere cultural-hippy from Sim's Garden Hostel is dramatic. The change requires a mental readjustment. Apart from everything, it is simply wonderful being able to dump your dirty jeans into the laundry bag to find them magically cleaned and ironed some hours later!
Monday, September 15, 2008
Chengdu
The city is a black hole, there is no arguing with it. We got here from Xi'an by plane and immediately were suffocated by the smog in the air that sticks to your throat making breathing difficult. Chengdu seems to embody all the negative traits of China that we had so far escaped. The city is dirty, humid with a polluted fog that constantly shades the sun.
But apart from that, even Chengdu has its good side. The panda bears and the Giant Buddha of Leshan delivered on their promise. We saw the pandas from up close in a breeding colony on the outskirts of the city. It was a half day trip where we were all very taken with these giant teddies.
The statue of the Buddha was the most striking site so far. We reached the town of Leshan after a 4 hour journey in a car without any suspension. The motorway was closed due to fog and the driver had to take an alternative route through alleys clogged by traffic. Chinese people drive like crazy, overtaking on both sides, often even in the emergency lane. There seem to be no rules except the one that the biggest on the road has right of way. First buses, then cars, motorbikes and bicycles. Pedestrian do not count and every time you cross the road you take your life into your hands. Even getting off a bus, bicycles run you over without even slowing down.
The statue of the Buddha is 70 mt tall, sculpted in the mountain side and 1300 years old. It is inside a park with other temples and manicured gardens, at the end of a long staircase carved from the same rock as the statue.
The other cool thing about Chengdu is our guesthouse. At our arrival, after getting over the shock of seeing two pigs playing with a puppy in the garden, we immediately entered in the spirit of Sim's Cozy Guesthouse and mingled with its population. The washing machine is not as good as the one at home, the whole place is a bit of a mess because they just moved here, but staff are very friendly and welcoming and the food is to die for! Sechuanese cuisine is known worldwide as one of the best in China: it definitely didn't disappoint us. All dishes are very spicy because they are full of chili and sechuan pepper, but the flavours are original and well defined, the ingredients are fresh and even the vegetables don't lose their taste despite the spices. Sim's chef seems to be particularly gifted and able to concoct anything on the menu at any hour of the day or night. Here we have dinner, the four of us, with 4 euro including beer, while we sleep for 20e per night. Our favourite hangout is the Japanese style room on the second floor above the bar where sitting on the big cushions on the floor we eat, play mahjong or write a blog entry. Sara became best friends with Dian Dian, the puppy that was playing with the pigs on the first day. Every now and then he grabs the bottom of her jeans and doesn't let go until we lift her up. By now we look like real backpackers. Shame that tomorrow we have to leave.
But apart from that, even Chengdu has its good side. The panda bears and the Giant Buddha of Leshan delivered on their promise. We saw the pandas from up close in a breeding colony on the outskirts of the city. It was a half day trip where we were all very taken with these giant teddies.
The statue of the Buddha was the most striking site so far. We reached the town of Leshan after a 4 hour journey in a car without any suspension. The motorway was closed due to fog and the driver had to take an alternative route through alleys clogged by traffic. Chinese people drive like crazy, overtaking on both sides, often even in the emergency lane. There seem to be no rules except the one that the biggest on the road has right of way. First buses, then cars, motorbikes and bicycles. Pedestrian do not count and every time you cross the road you take your life into your hands. Even getting off a bus, bicycles run you over without even slowing down.
The statue of the Buddha is 70 mt tall, sculpted in the mountain side and 1300 years old. It is inside a park with other temples and manicured gardens, at the end of a long staircase carved from the same rock as the statue.
The other cool thing about Chengdu is our guesthouse. At our arrival, after getting over the shock of seeing two pigs playing with a puppy in the garden, we immediately entered in the spirit of Sim's Cozy Guesthouse and mingled with its population. The washing machine is not as good as the one at home, the whole place is a bit of a mess because they just moved here, but staff are very friendly and welcoming and the food is to die for! Sechuanese cuisine is known worldwide as one of the best in China: it definitely didn't disappoint us. All dishes are very spicy because they are full of chili and sechuan pepper, but the flavours are original and well defined, the ingredients are fresh and even the vegetables don't lose their taste despite the spices. Sim's chef seems to be particularly gifted and able to concoct anything on the menu at any hour of the day or night. Here we have dinner, the four of us, with 4 euro including beer, while we sleep for 20e per night. Our favourite hangout is the Japanese style room on the second floor above the bar where sitting on the big cushions on the floor we eat, play mahjong or write a blog entry. Sara became best friends with Dian Dian, the puppy that was playing with the pigs on the first day. Every now and then he grabs the bottom of her jeans and doesn't let go until we lift her up. By now we look like real backpackers. Shame that tomorrow we have to leave.
Xi'an
We got to Xi'an after a 12 hour trip by night train. Beijing Western Station was quite difficult to negotiate. It's as big as an airport and extremely busy with not so disciplined crowds even at nine o'clock in the evening. With luggage and kids in tow it was no joke. We were the only Westerners around and in the departure lounge people were as usual keen on trying their English while others just stared at us as if we were a traveling circus. The night on the train was comfortable, much more so than the last equivalent European trip I did.
We spent the day walking around the city, one of the richest and most industrialized of the whole country. The centre is divided between a commercial area with department stores, designer shops and all the international chains like Starbucks and MacDonald's, and the Muslim quarter, a maze of shops and stalls of food and local handicraft. There we learned a hard lesson in the art of haggling. We saw a set of chopsticks we liked in one of the first stalls, for the price of 240Y (24E), found them again in another stall 180Y, bought for 140, convinced that we really clever and getting a good deal, only to see them around the corner for 65! As soon as I realized the mistake I started to say "NOOO!", more to myself than anybody else but the girl in the shop, thinking that I was complaining about the price, started to come down, "Ok then, 50, 40..." The more she lowered the price, the more I despaired. The more I despaired, the more she lowered the price. When we arrived at 35 I explained to her that I had no intention of buying because I had already bought them somewhere else. She finally understood what was happening and it ended in a good laugh. Now we haggle for everything, even bottled water. If they ask 200 we offer 20 and in the end we always win. When they part with the goods with bad grace, then you probably paid the fair price. You pay for lessons and so far we clocked up about 50E in stuff that we could surely have got cheaper.
Terracotta Warriors
Nina eating a rice pudding bought on a street stall in the Muslim Quarter. We all had lunch on the street for a grand total of 2 euro. Let's hope we escape the curse of Qin Shi Huang Di...
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Last Hours in Beijing
Sitting at a table in Pizza Hut (yes, we succumbed once more to the call of the West), we pass time before boarding the train that will bring us to Xi'an. We spent the day between the Forbidden City and the Temple of Yong He Gong where Sara was fascinated by the Buddha. Between my two daughters she is definitely the one that takes her religion more seriously, while after her first communion, Nina professes herself agnostic. I was observing them today while they watched, transfixed, the golden statues and their fruit and flowers offerings, the faithful who burned incense while praying. I saw how, for the first time, they really understood what we tried to teach them all along, that different people have different beliefs but no less valid than our own and the world is big enough for everybody.
We really liked Beijing but it is time to leave it behind. Even in transit, sitting at a table of a public restaurant as the only fixed point, I strangely feel at home. I think for the others it's the same. Brendan reads his book and the girls are drawing, nobody seems bothered by the precariousness of the situation. Very early on, at the beginning of this experience, we are learning how feeling at home is a mental state and has little to do with a specific place. Feeling at home in our own heads seems to be what counts. Once that happens we realize we don't need much more.
We really liked Beijing but it is time to leave it behind. Even in transit, sitting at a table of a public restaurant as the only fixed point, I strangely feel at home. I think for the others it's the same. Brendan reads his book and the girls are drawing, nobody seems bothered by the precariousness of the situation. Very early on, at the beginning of this experience, we are learning how feeling at home is a mental state and has little to do with a specific place. Feeling at home in our own heads seems to be what counts. Once that happens we realize we don't need much more.
Chinese Cuisine
After the first day, I had resigned myself to a diet of boiled rice and green tea for the next three weeks. In an attempt to cushion the culture shock on the girls, we stupidly tried to eat Western food, with at best mediocre results. But after our first dinner it was clear that it would be impossible to continue with these highly improbable dishes that were vaguely European and distinctly bad news for our livers. There was nothing for it but to surrender to Chinese cuisine. After two days, we are all converted. Completely different to what is on offer in Europe, here it's much healthier, without that fast-food taste of MSG. Below you can find a picture of my favourite breakfast these days: spring rolls, baozi (little balls of steamed rice filled with fruit compote), fritters and custard pie.
My adaptation to this new culture has gone one step further. Despite the many kilos of medicine that I brought, I needed a pharmacy. Just finding one was an adventure: we had to head for Qianmen (a type of Chinatown, if that isn't a contradiction in terms!), decidedly outside the standard tourist sites, where for the first time we had confirmation of the reported fact that the Chinese continuously hawk and spit on the ground. This behaviour has been recently banned, in preparation for the Olympics, so as not to horrify Westerners. The ban has worked in the tourist areas where fines are enforced, but away from them, people fall back into their old habits. The pharmacy was part of a large department store that seemed out of Stalin's Russia, with two shop-assistants who looked like Red Cross nurses from the Great War. I explained my problem to the one who seemed to have a few words of English, and she asked me:
"Do you want Chinese or Western Medicine?"
At first I looked at her as if she were joking, but then the spirit of adventure (or desperation) got the better of me: "I don't care - as long as it works". She wrote out a pair of characters on a slip of paper, and sent me to another counter where they handed me a box of tablets identical to what we might expect to find at home, but entirely in Chinese. When I realised that I had no way of figuring out what exactly it was that I was about in ingest, I returned to my Red Cross Nurse of the Great War and asked her what was in the tablets: "Antibiotic? Anti-inflammatory?"
She looked at me, confused, without reply.
"Herbs?" I suggested.
"Yes. Chinese herbs."
That was enough for me. In that moment I would have tried cyanide, if that's what they had given me". Three days later, the problem is resolved. Whatever it was, it worked.
After the Great Wall, we visited the Temple of Heaven and the Summer Palace. Beautiful places, wonderful architecture, but as ever it was the people who fascinated me. The park around the Temple of Heaven, for example, was full of people practicing Tai Chi, taking waltz lessons, some were singing in groups, others simply playing cards - all of them making the most of the sunshine, despite the cold.
Last night we met Beiyan who brought us to a restaurant to eat authentic Peking Duck, roasted and caramelized, sliced into small pieces and placed into rice pancakes with plum sauce and vegetables. The only one who didn't like it was Sara who, under the influence of jetlag, fell asleep with her head on the table before beginning to eat.
My adaptation to this new culture has gone one step further. Despite the many kilos of medicine that I brought, I needed a pharmacy. Just finding one was an adventure: we had to head for Qianmen (a type of Chinatown, if that isn't a contradiction in terms!), decidedly outside the standard tourist sites, where for the first time we had confirmation of the reported fact that the Chinese continuously hawk and spit on the ground. This behaviour has been recently banned, in preparation for the Olympics, so as not to horrify Westerners. The ban has worked in the tourist areas where fines are enforced, but away from them, people fall back into their old habits. The pharmacy was part of a large department store that seemed out of Stalin's Russia, with two shop-assistants who looked like Red Cross nurses from the Great War. I explained my problem to the one who seemed to have a few words of English, and she asked me:
"Do you want Chinese or Western Medicine?"
At first I looked at her as if she were joking, but then the spirit of adventure (or desperation) got the better of me: "I don't care - as long as it works". She wrote out a pair of characters on a slip of paper, and sent me to another counter where they handed me a box of tablets identical to what we might expect to find at home, but entirely in Chinese. When I realised that I had no way of figuring out what exactly it was that I was about in ingest, I returned to my Red Cross Nurse of the Great War and asked her what was in the tablets: "Antibiotic? Anti-inflammatory?"
She looked at me, confused, without reply.
"Herbs?" I suggested.
"Yes. Chinese herbs."
That was enough for me. In that moment I would have tried cyanide, if that's what they had given me". Three days later, the problem is resolved. Whatever it was, it worked.
After the Great Wall, we visited the Temple of Heaven and the Summer Palace. Beautiful places, wonderful architecture, but as ever it was the people who fascinated me. The park around the Temple of Heaven, for example, was full of people practicing Tai Chi, taking waltz lessons, some were singing in groups, others simply playing cards - all of them making the most of the sunshine, despite the cold.
Last night we met Beiyan who brought us to a restaurant to eat authentic Peking Duck, roasted and caramelized, sliced into small pieces and placed into rice pancakes with plum sauce and vegetables. The only one who didn't like it was Sara who, under the influence of jetlag, fell asleep with her head on the table before beginning to eat.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Good Morning China!
[Original Blog Entry Monday December 30 by Letizia. Translated by Brendan. ]
It's four in the morning and we finally concede to the jetlag and surrender to Greenwich Mean Time: The girls are playing on their Nintendos in the other room, Brendan is studying the guide, and I'm writing my first post on the road. China has welcomed us with open arms. After 10 hours of half-light on the airplane, we landed in Beijing to the kind of beautiful sunlight that we haven't seen in Ireland since September. At the passport check we were waved through with wide smiles. We noticed a button on the policeman's kiosk that we could press in the event that we weren't satisfied with our treatment. Our suitcases arrived even before we did, and soon afterwards we were already in a taxi called by an airport official whose job seemed to entail helping passengers in whatever way necessary.
Brendan passed his first test in Chinese with flying colours, chatting with the taxi driver while the kids and I were giggling in the back. Once in the hotel, we colonized our room, opening the suitcases and taking out books, slippers, computer and the various other items that for the next months will constitute our home. They are exactly those things that differentiate between a normal holiday and what we are doing - vital for helping us at least feel as if we are not always in a hotel, but difficult to drag across four continents. I'm already thinking impatiently about the first parcel that we'll send home.
Despite the tiredness - for us it was 2 in the morning and none of us had slept on the plane - we headed out and reached Tiananmen Square by foot. Very quickly we realised that we were amongst the very few Westerners around. Locals looked at us with intense curiosity, especially at the girls, and more than once we were stopped in order to have our picture taken with complete strangers. Nina: "I feel like I'm Avril Lavigne!". When we got to the square, the souvenir vendors descended on us, and for the second time we saw the proof of Brendan's Chinese. Along with the language, he also acquired the ability to haggle, without which you can't survive here. From him we learned the magic words to free ourselves from the vendors. When nothing else works; no, no thank you, I don't want it, just say bu yao! with a certain authority, and they vanish. First they freeze, silent, and then they disappear. He assures me that we're not being rude, but I'm not convinced.
The cold at that point was too much, as was the tiredness, so we took shelter in a nearby subway station. Once inside, nobody was inclined to venture back out into the cold and so Brendan gave his final demonstration of his command of the language: with the map of the subway on the wall, in Chinese, he managed to get us back to the hotel, changing train along the way. Needless to say we were the only Westerners around. I don't know if I'll be able to compete with this when it's my turn to translate in South America.
It's four in the morning and we finally concede to the jetlag and surrender to Greenwich Mean Time: The girls are playing on their Nintendos in the other room, Brendan is studying the guide, and I'm writing my first post on the road. China has welcomed us with open arms. After 10 hours of half-light on the airplane, we landed in Beijing to the kind of beautiful sunlight that we haven't seen in Ireland since September. At the passport check we were waved through with wide smiles. We noticed a button on the policeman's kiosk that we could press in the event that we weren't satisfied with our treatment. Our suitcases arrived even before we did, and soon afterwards we were already in a taxi called by an airport official whose job seemed to entail helping passengers in whatever way necessary.
Brendan passed his first test in Chinese with flying colours, chatting with the taxi driver while the kids and I were giggling in the back. Once in the hotel, we colonized our room, opening the suitcases and taking out books, slippers, computer and the various other items that for the next months will constitute our home. They are exactly those things that differentiate between a normal holiday and what we are doing - vital for helping us at least feel as if we are not always in a hotel, but difficult to drag across four continents. I'm already thinking impatiently about the first parcel that we'll send home.
Despite the tiredness - for us it was 2 in the morning and none of us had slept on the plane - we headed out and reached Tiananmen Square by foot. Very quickly we realised that we were amongst the very few Westerners around. Locals looked at us with intense curiosity, especially at the girls, and more than once we were stopped in order to have our picture taken with complete strangers. Nina: "I feel like I'm Avril Lavigne!". When we got to the square, the souvenir vendors descended on us, and for the second time we saw the proof of Brendan's Chinese. Along with the language, he also acquired the ability to haggle, without which you can't survive here. From him we learned the magic words to free ourselves from the vendors. When nothing else works; no, no thank you, I don't want it, just say bu yao! with a certain authority, and they vanish. First they freeze, silent, and then they disappear. He assures me that we're not being rude, but I'm not convinced.
The cold at that point was too much, as was the tiredness, so we took shelter in a nearby subway station. Once inside, nobody was inclined to venture back out into the cold and so Brendan gave his final demonstration of his command of the language: with the map of the subway on the wall, in Chinese, he managed to get us back to the hotel, changing train along the way. Needless to say we were the only Westerners around. I don't know if I'll be able to compete with this when it's my turn to translate in South America.
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