On Living the Hai Life and a Short Adieu to China

As our time in Northern China comes to a close and we prepare ourselves for the next leg of our journey, I recognize a note of bittersweetness in my reflections. There is a lot to love and a lot to find fault with here. Our whirlwind tour of the place has only allowed for a fragmented view of this country but I'm happy for the experience of it, as it is so different than anything else we have done or have yet to do. Our understanding of things is only just beginning and now we are leaving--but thus is the nature of travel, especially on our route.

After visiting the terra cotta warriors and wandering the narrow passageways of the old Muslim Quarter in Xi'an, Shanghai is a thrilling place to end our stay. The skyscrapers, the streets of seemingly endless shopping malls, the mix of old, colonial Europe and new China, is an exemplary juxtaposition of history and modernity that is a source of pride of many Chinese living here. Of all the old port cities, Shanghai is certainly an impressive model of China's industriousness and fast-paced development. It has all the comforts of the US and manages to house at least five million more people than any large metropolis in the States. Huge apartment complexes are going up all over the place and most buildings are over forty stories tall, creating somewhat of a cluttered landscape not unlike the canopy of a rain forest where all the tallest points are racing towards the heavens, dwarfing their neighbors in an attempt to absorb the glory of being the fastest vertical climber.

This will have to be a short entry as it is late here and I have laundry to attend to in my hotel room sink, but I will spend some more time reflecting and get back to you soon with further impressions of this bizarre and bewitching place.

photos: Epiphany, Jane, and Rachel, in our cabin on one of our many-hour train rides,  the waterfront in downtown Shanghai, a pond at a temple of Chinese folk religion, and walking at dusk in Wutaishan.

China on the Run

Having been in China for over a week now, we are all growing more and more comfortable with the language, the food, and our roles as tourists. We are frequently asked to stop and pose in photos, holding adorable Chinese babies or we are more "slyly" included in family photos. Whether it is the long blondish hair, the freckled skin, the big noses, our presence seems such a novelty that it is impossible for Chinese tourists to pass up the opportunity to capture our foreign faces on their memory cards.

Besides being in photos, I have really enjoyed China so far. Indeed, being able to speak some of the language and read some of the characters aids in my comfort here. Also, I find the history of the country, the old architecture, and the pristine nature that is found outside the busy metropolises to be very pleasing.

In Beijing we stayed in a beautiful, old part of the city, just outside of the Forbidden City, that thoroughly enchanted us all. The houtangs, or old, historic streets, are home to the wealthy, and offer many small, winding avenues, that made exploring a real adventure. Since the Olympics, there has been a huge change in the city. We were surprised to find little pollution and almost no trash cluttering the streets--something that was omnipresent in Mongolia--and lots of lush, green boulevards, upon our arrival. After wandering the parks and visiting the pagodas and temples for a few days, we were shuttled onward to Wutaishan, the "five terraced mountains."

Wutaishan is a hot spot for Buddhist pilgrims and tied in well with our Buddhism course. The town itself (I say town because any place with fewer than about two million inhabitants is considered a "town"), is situated in the "Buddha's palm," while the five peaks run clockwise around it to create the "fingers." We spent most of our first day there visiting temples, simultaneously taking notes and photos at each, and making our way to our cozy, tucked away hotel. Four days was a rather generous amount of time for us to stay in so secluded a place but we made the most of our visit and, between class and temple visits, we were able to do some hiking along the forested mountainsides.

I look forward to the next stint in China and, now that my computer is mysteriously working again, do my best to keep this blog up-to-date. The fast pace of this tour has got all of our heads spinning but I shall do my best to keep mine screwed on tight and take in all I'm able. Until later, zai jian.

photos: the moat and northeast corner of the Forbidden City, Rachel, our English-speaking friend Mac, and me jumping off the steps at the Yungang Grottoes, The Hanging Cliff Temple, and Epiphany walking around one of the many temples visited in Wutaishan.

A Farewell to Mongolia

As our departure from Mongolia approaches, I've found myself reflecting on our time here with surprising fondness. Below is a list of a few things I'd like to remember about UB:

-the bright orange awnings of the fresh fruit stands that appear each morning on every corner, their patrons gathered en masse to select the best kiwis and Asian pears before work

-the strange Soviet architecture: the pastel buildings with their white columns and the broken yellow, red, green, and blue sidewalk tiles often interrupted by large potholes and the occasional missing manhole cover

-cheerful young fathers with their children in arms, cooing to them softly as they accompany their wives on their errands

-little, aimless old ladies in their colorful deels, tall black boots, and cashmere berets-their purses clutched in their wrinkled hands-making their way slowly through the crowds of poshly dressed young people on the streets

-weird tasting dairy products (dried yogurt and cheeses) made from yak's milk sold in every grocery store--something I've not yet taken a liking to...

-traditional throat singers who can "play" their vocal cords and can create three notes at once (called Huumii in Mongolian) as they strum away at a sheep's head fiddle they hold between their knees

-the cigarette/candy/fruit vendors who will charge 100 tugrugs for a local phone call on the bulky old phones they hold in their laps

-the ODB--our nickname for the town groper (a real pro) who asks if we speak English, hands us a little card explaining how his family died in a fire and he needs money, and, while our hands are occupied, goes in for a squeeze when we're least expecting it

-the warmth of a ger at night and the small hole of blue sky visible at the roof's center in the morning

-couples sharing lunch together on benches surrounding the old cement playgrounds in courtyards tucked away, just off the busy streets of downtown

-the daily guilt trip from our Russian hostel owner about not putting two pieces of toast in the toaster--something a Mongolian person would never do--among other criticisms of Americans

-young kids dressed up in suits and ties, dresses and patent leather shoes, carrying flowers for their teachers who yell 'hello' to us in English as their parents make sure they make it safely across the heavily trafficked streets

-the cozy German bakery where we often get a sandwich and good coffee and take in the smells of bread baking and pastry dough rising after class

-a profound feeling of foreignness.

I shall miss this place. Beyond Mongolia's rough exterior, there is a beauty about this place that I will carry with me for a long while still.

photos: the strange "D" shaped building south of Sukhbaatar Square with mountains in the distance, and a brick layer fixing up a huge piece of sidewalk along a storefront, and a woman setting up her fruit stand on Peace Ave. in UB.