Top right: Will Bottom left: Alice
We arrived in
The layout of
Our first major event was to climb up and explore the Xi’an city wall- an enormous defensive structure thirty feet thick and something like five or six miles around. The only logical thing was to bike around it. My friend Han and I rented a tandem bike for the usual ridiculously low American price and got around at least half of the wall in the hour and a half that we were given to explore. We even got a very unsafe but very cool video of biking down the wall that can be viewed here.
Han and I taking a break from trying to kill ourselveswith a tandem bike
For the trip, in addition to teams of seven, we were also assigned into two buses. After the trip to the Xi’an
(The paper says FAIL and then has arrows pointing to twobuses with the captions "right bus" and "you.")
How do you know that Will is a math major?
He points out something that is absolutely true and, at the same time, completely useless.
You don't go to Xi'an without visiting the terracotta soldiers. Located in a series of three enormous aircraft-hanger-esque buildings, the soldiers were neither as plentiful nor as impressive as we had been expecting. When something is hyped as one of the wonders of the world, though, awe-failure is practically mandatory. Everything seemed old enough, but after hearing so much about the individually carved soldiers and the glorious individual personification of each one, they seemed a little too cookie-cutter.
Jesse, Maria and I still had a fun time looking forabnormally shaped soldiers.
After Xi'an, our next step was a flight to Chengdu; a part of Szhechuan. You know- where the spicy comes from. In its infinite kindness, the program saw fit to get us a hotel with an awesome view of a park in the downtown area.
Just out of the frame, on the left, is a thirty foot high statue of Mao.We enjoyed wandering through this park and seeing the fountains and gardens. It was late, and we were hungry, so a big group of us went out to find someplace to eat. Will, Jesse, and I found an establishment which we believed to be cheap and suitable, but the others felt that it was too "sketchy" and went along their merry way. It was really too bad for them, because they weren't able to enjoy our delicious pot of...
...random meats and vegetables soaked in unbearably hot mystery-sauce.
I won't go into details, but the next morning was the first of two times on this trip that I was nearly incapacitated by foodstuffs. The above picture fills me with more fear and dread than I could have previously imagined.
When the sun rose, I rolled out of bed for the only thing that could have possibly motivated me at that time: cute and cuddly pandas.
When the sun rose, I rolled out of bed for the only thing that could have possibly motivated me at that time: cute and cuddly pandas.
We arrived at the Chengdu Panda Research Center right around 9:00AM, so that we could see feeding time. Pandas, let it be known, are EXACTLY as cute as you think they are. They even have little opposable-thumb-like-things so they can eat bamboo like they're holding an ice cream cone. Then they rip into the stalk with their extremely powerful jaws and you remember that, while they are cute, it's probably best that there is a wall and a moat between the two of you.
There were photo opportunities that allowed you to spend 500 kuai ($75) for a picture with your arm around a big panda. I could get within twenty feet for free, so I passed.
After the Panda center, we had some free time with which we went to Jinli Street. It was here that I purchased my first Chinese instrument, the Hulusi. It literally translates as "silk gourd" and combines the tone of the clarinet with the drones of the bagpipe. My perfect instrument, really.
The next morning we went to the Wenshu Monastery, a Buddhist temple built over 1000 years ago. It contained quite a bit of history, Buddha sculptures, and buildings, but we were mostly occupied watching the turtles in the turtle pond.
Turtles.It seemed as though the only object in these turtles' lives was to climb to the top of this rock and stay there for as long as possible. When hundreds of turtles are trying to do this at the same time, it makes for some interesting slow-motion fights and plenty of epic tumbles into the merciless waters below. I think that the turtles taught me far more than I could have learned by actually looking around the monastery.
After lunch, which was entirely vegetarian but made to simulate the taste and texture of meat (which was interesting), we boarded our bus to travel to Leshan.
After lunch, which was entirely vegetarian but made to simulate the taste and texture of meat (which was interesting), we boarded our bus to travel to Leshan.
This is the garden behind a Chinese rest-stop. Like, a gas station. Seriously.
Now, the only reason that one goes to Leshan is to see the biggest Buddha in the world. As the story goes, in the early 700's a Buddhist monk called Hai Tong decided that people needed protection from three rivers converging tempestuously at one point in Leshan. He spent twenty years wandering around gathering money for a project to carve a Buddha out of the side of a mountain in order to protect the area. After he had raised enough money, corrupt city officials came to him with an eye to take the money for themselves. When Hai Tong saw this, he defiantly told the officials that they could sooner have his eye than the Buddha's money. With that statement, Hai Tong actually tore his own eye out with his bare hands and handed it to the officials. The officials were justifiably scared out of their minds, and they ran off, allowing Hai Tong to begin the 90 year process of carving the Buddha.
And thirteen-hundred years later, the Buddha still watches over the rivers.
And thirteen-hundred years later, the Buddha still watches over the rivers.
And he is enormous.Just as impressive, I think, is the complex of parks and temples that surround the Buddha. Nell and I got lost trying to find the way out, and we stumbled upon some 14th century defensive works built along the side of the mountain, just in case the Buddha decided to drop his watchful eyes for a moment.
I have an inexplicable urge to take this picture with every cannon I see. I might have around twenty pictures of me with my head in a cannon. One of these days, that's going to be a bad idea.
Nell and I finally caught up with Ben and Hillary, and we insisted on having pictures taken in front of the most immense sprawl of greenery that we had yet witnessed in China. Looking at this picture back in the US, the effect is perhaps less impressive.
Coming down from the mountain of the Buddha, we passed a sugar-cane vendor. This is, you know, normal in China. What we didn't know is that you're supposed to strip off the diamond-hard green part of the sugar-cane to get to the sugary stuff inside. So immediately after this picture was taken, I was in a great deal of pain.
Well... good.Kunming is famous for its nearby stone forest. There were initially plans to go to this forest, but those had to be abandoned due to a sudden onset of laziness and trip-fatigue.
Our only scheduled stop in Kunming was at Yunnan University, China's equivalent (so they told us) to our Stanford. Because of the great ethnic diversity in the Yunnan province, we were to be treated to a lecture by a leading anthropologist about some of these minority groups.
The actual lecture is painful to recall, but here is what I took away from it: hooray for the American education system, and three cheers for academic accountability. We were privileged enough to listen through about ten minutes of description for each of Yunnan's 26 (the number is listed at 28 in the downstairs museum) ethnic minorities (though they prefer to be called "national minorities" since they are part of China and there is but one China). To paraphrase:
The Naxi tribe number 36,431 people. They live in the northwest corner of the province. They have a pictorial written language. They have a primitive religion. They enjoy to sing and dance.
The Bai tribe number 12,554. They live in the southwest corner of the province. They are called "bai" because "bai" means "white" and they are generally light-skinned. They have a primitive religion. They enjoy to sing and dance.
At the end of the lecture, we were allowed to ask questions. A (paraphrased, again) sampling:
Question: How easy is it to get to the island of the (insert national minority here) people?
Answer: Oh, it is very easy. It is very close to here. I do not know exactly, I have never been there.
Question: With all of these minorities living in such close proximity to one another, were there ever any conflicts in this region? Or do conflicts arise now with the Han majority?
Answer: Oh no. There is no problems. The national minorities all love being Chinese. All of them. There have never been any problems.
(silence)
Question: Is the government doing anything to preserve the languages of any of these groups, as their numbers shrink?
Answer: No. The government does not see a reason to do this. After all, we are all Chinese. We encourage the groups to maintain their heritage by wearing their traditional clothing and singing and dancing. This is how we maintain diversity.
Sometimes there are just no words....
The next stop on our trip was Dali, the cradle of culture for many national minorities in China. After another overnight train trip, we all climbed on board a tour boat to putter around Erhai lake for a while.
Our only scheduled stop in Kunming was at Yunnan University, China's equivalent (so they told us) to our Stanford. Because of the great ethnic diversity in the Yunnan province, we were to be treated to a lecture by a leading anthropologist about some of these minority groups.
The actual lecture is painful to recall, but here is what I took away from it: hooray for the American education system, and three cheers for academic accountability. We were privileged enough to listen through about ten minutes of description for each of Yunnan's 26 (the number is listed at 28 in the downstairs museum) ethnic minorities (though they prefer to be called "national minorities" since they are part of China and there is but one China). To paraphrase:
The Naxi tribe number 36,431 people. They live in the northwest corner of the province. They have a pictorial written language. They have a primitive religion. They enjoy to sing and dance.
The Bai tribe number 12,554. They live in the southwest corner of the province. They are called "bai" because "bai" means "white" and they are generally light-skinned. They have a primitive religion. They enjoy to sing and dance.
At the end of the lecture, we were allowed to ask questions. A (paraphrased, again) sampling:
Question: How easy is it to get to the island of the (insert national minority here) people?
Answer: Oh, it is very easy. It is very close to here. I do not know exactly, I have never been there.
Question: With all of these minorities living in such close proximity to one another, were there ever any conflicts in this region? Or do conflicts arise now with the Han majority?
Answer: Oh no. There is no problems. The national minorities all love being Chinese. All of them. There have never been any problems.
(silence)
Question: Is the government doing anything to preserve the languages of any of these groups, as their numbers shrink?
Answer: No. The government does not see a reason to do this. After all, we are all Chinese. We encourage the groups to maintain their heritage by wearing their traditional clothing and singing and dancing. This is how we maintain diversity.
Sometimes there are just no words....
The next stop on our trip was Dali, the cradle of culture for many national minorities in China. After another overnight train trip, we all climbed on board a tour boat to putter around Erhai lake for a while.
Jesse and I point out that we are, in fact, on a lake.It was a pleasant ride, even if we were all still extremely tired from the train. The highlight was a stop at a small island in the middle of the lake: an island filled with waterfalls, beaches, and warning signs...
"Child's beard have results to show a person to lead a square..."Well duh.
Finally, a place in China that was just pretty and green and blue.That's not a gigantic and scary person in the water, by the way.
It's a statue.
And Nell is in between.
We stayed in Dali for one night, and had great fun with the holes in the ground that were our only toilets while we were there.
Our final destination was an ancient town called Lijiang, where we were to stay for three days visiting happy national minorities and watching them sing and dance, just as we heard they love to do. Also on the itinerary: a giant mountain called "Yulong Snow Mountain" and two relatively free days to adventure as we pleased (and we certainly did).
Our hotel was located right in the ancient town, so right outside our door we were able to buy pineapple halves and other assorted fruits, as well as wander down the skinny pedestrian streets and look at the ubiquitous shops and restaurants. At one of these restaurants, Will, Jesse and I stopped and dined on the finest braised eggplant (still my favorite Chinese food). Afterwards, Will and I went to another restaurant and tried, apprehensively, some Yunnan province red wine. To our complete and utter surprise, this wine actually tasted like wine, and so we happily remained there for several hours.
(Note: in retrospect (retrospect=America) I have realized that the Yunnan wine was pretty bad itself, but in comparison to the other wines of China, it was downright amazing.)
The following morning (April 22nd, for those who are keeping track), it was time to visit the Yulong Snow Mountain. On our way, we stopped at a Naxi village to see some...
...national minority singing and dancing. Figures.We had two options for going up the mountain. Option one involved taking a short gondola ride up a nearby mountain in order to get nice scenic pictures of the Yulong Snow Mountain. Option two involved going up the Snow Mountain itself. It also involved oxygen masks and an insurance waiver. While I would have normally chosen option two, option one was fifty kuai cheaper (which, while only $7 American, seemed like a lot more at the time) . Plus, we ended up in a field full of Yak.
And Yak Yogurt!
(Caitlyn and Me)
And Yak Yogurt!(Caitlyn and Me)
And actual Yak! Incidentally, if you find yourself in a field of Yak...Don't stand near one. It may charge you.
Not that that happened.
I was perfectly safe.
Sort of.
Jesse, tech wizard that he is, changed the settings on my camera to make for some more artsy shots of the mountains.
Yulong Snow Mountain- Pretty Darn BigThe next day I have no photographic records for, yet the memory burns in my mind like an a terrible terrible sunburn. I will try, as best I can, to recreate (in a thousand words, to give you a good picture) what happened on this day. I might start by saying that this day, though it seemed so ordinary at first, would soon turn into my favorite day in China.
Moments after I awoke at the crack of noon-thirty, I stepped outside my room and was harassed by Maria, who wanted to know if I would care to take a short bike ride through the ancient city. I had nothing else to do, so I said OK.
Maria, Ben, Chris and I walked down to the bike rental store and secured bikes for the day for $2 a piece. Oh the extravagance. We then immediately proceeded to stand there for twenty minutes as Ben attempted to figure out where we were going. I didn't realize we had a goal, so I asked him why we didn't just ride around the town until we found something cool.
"Because we're going to visit monasteries," he said.
"Oh." Then a policeman arrived to help us out. We (Maria and Ben) asked him, in our best (semi-comprehensible) Chinese where the monasteries were. He showed us a map of the ancient city. Then he pointed to the top of the map. Then he pointed somewhere vaguely off the map. "Around there."
There was a contingent (Ben) who wanted to ask more people about the whereabouts of this monastery, but every now and then the majority does rule in China, and the other three of us were able to convince him (by riding away) that, since we had a general direction, we should get started.
It was a lovely ride through the ancient town, if you forget the times we almost crashed into pedestrians. After twenty minutes, we came to some sort of park and a stream. This is where the old town ended and the new town began (and where the map ended). After eating a couple of pineapple halves, we decided to continue north. After all, how far north of the ancient town could the monastery be?
We biked through city streets until we found one very large street leading towards the mountains on the east. There were mountains in every direction, forming a bowl around Lijiang, so at the very least- it would be impossible to get TOO lost (by more then ten miles or so).
Every so often, we would stop and ask directions. A shopkeep, a businessman, a gas station attendant, a man chopping wood. They all seemed to be pointing us in the same general direction with the comforting thought that "it is very near." We left the city and started biking through farmland. We reached another ancient town that competes with Lijiang for tourists. The monastery remained "very near." We managed to shake off the people trying to sell us things and continued on through more of the beautiful farmland. The farmers themselves were often out in the fields, harvesting or planting or whatever with just their bare hands and a few smaller tools. If one of them got a hold of a John Deere tractor, China would overtake America in a matter of years.
Two hours later. Hot, dehydrated, and on the other side of the mountains, we were once again "very near." We arrived in the smallest, most stereotypical Chinese village imaginable. The man we asked directions from was actually laying layers of mud to build a sort of wall. We couldn't understand his accent, so Maria called Dr. Sun and handed the phone over. When she took the phone back, Dr. Sun simply said "His mandarin is very bad. I can not understand him." and hung up.
What we got, in the form of some sort of charades from hell, was that the monastery was just up this large mountain, but we had to walk it. Since we had dedicated three hours already to this adventure, we decided to go for it. We chained our bikes together in the most theft-proof method possible (against the warnings/profiteering of an old lady who wanted us to keep them at her house) and started our hike up the mountain. And, of course, up the mountain was synonymous with "through the graveyard."
Chinese graveyards are very different from American ones. It seems as though they have parties up there and light fireworks on graves of loved ones so that they can celebrate too. Everywhere we went, shells of spent fireworks littered the ground. Also, in what was an entirely disconcerting moment, we picked up what looked like money on the ground. Printed in English, oddly enough, was "Bank of Hell Currency." Later, I found out that it is tradition to burn hellnotes for your relatives to spend in heaven. Or hell. Or whatever. I never really understood that part of Chinese culture.
We climbed on and saw no other people for half an hour. Then... hoofs. A clip-clop coming our way. It had been so long since we had seen anyone, we hid like Frodo from a Ring-wraith and jumped to the side of the road. On a parallel road, coming up, was what could have easily passed for the Chinese Marlboro Man, smoking astride his horse and, in a modern twist, listening to his ipod. He didn't see us, and we're pretty sure he didn't hear us, either. We followed him and his horses up the mountain, hoping that he was on a pilgrimage to see the monks. Another half an hour later, we had lost the scent of the horses and given up hope.
Then, suddenly- over the next ridge we climbed- we saw it! More trees and graves! Oh...
So we turned around, and I promised Chris, Maria, and Ben that when I told the story, I would end it like this (and ignore the part about taking another excruciating two hours to bike back): We may not have found a physical Tibetan monastery that day, but we certainly found the Tibetan monastery within ourselves and within our friendships, and THAT made the whole trip worth it.
That evening, after we returned the bikes and hobbled to the nearest dining establishment, I pulled out a pre-paid calling card that I had purchased in Beijing and started to call my girlfriend, Liza, who was in Spain. It was her birthday, and I had saved this card especially for that moment. The card did not work.
I tried again. It still didn't work. I looked at the small print on the back of the card. "This card will only work in the municipality of Beijing." Great.
I pulled out my best Chinese and started asking where I could buy a phone card. "Just over there," they would reply, "it is very near." I knew enough of that statement to become very sullen, and I trudged along. Eventually I found a phone store, and, after explaining exactly what I needed, they told me that they didn't have anything like that. "You don't have phone cards?" I asked. And again, the answer was no.
At least, I thought, I could catch Liza online. So I went back to the street with the internet cafe and... all the power in about four blocks of the city was out. Which, you know... figured.
Drunk with a mixture of exhaustion and incredulity, I ran down the streets of the old city, looking for someone... anyone... with a computer and an internet connection. When I saw lights again, I swerved into a shop where a young woman was using a computer. What I tried to say was "hello, could I please use your computer? I will pay you, I just have to talk to someone very quickly to say happy birthday. It is very important."
What I actually said was more like "Hello. Is that a computer you have there? It is imperative that I use it. I must speak. It is very famous that I do this. VERY famous. Here is money."
The woman offered me the computer and tried to politely decline any sort of compensation, but I simply put it on the table and said "no, you're being very nice to me. Please, take this." I caught Liza right before she was about to get offline, so I considered the adventure a success.
THE NEXT MORNING
Over the course of the previous day, Ben (fearless leader) had been plotting with some of the other group leaders to charter a bus and go to Shangri-la. Yes, THAT Shangri-la. So we did exactly that.
The trip to Shangri-la was long. Five hours each way, to be exact. To break up the monotony, we took a pit stop at one of the largest gorges in the world: Tiger Leaping Gorge. It got its name because, according to legend, a tiger once leaped across the gorge with the help of an extremely large rock in the center.
Moments after I awoke at the crack of noon-thirty, I stepped outside my room and was harassed by Maria, who wanted to know if I would care to take a short bike ride through the ancient city. I had nothing else to do, so I said OK.
Maria, Ben, Chris and I walked down to the bike rental store and secured bikes for the day for $2 a piece. Oh the extravagance. We then immediately proceeded to stand there for twenty minutes as Ben attempted to figure out where we were going. I didn't realize we had a goal, so I asked him why we didn't just ride around the town until we found something cool.
"Because we're going to visit monasteries," he said.
"Oh." Then a policeman arrived to help us out. We (Maria and Ben) asked him, in our best (semi-comprehensible) Chinese where the monasteries were. He showed us a map of the ancient city. Then he pointed to the top of the map. Then he pointed somewhere vaguely off the map. "Around there."
There was a contingent (Ben) who wanted to ask more people about the whereabouts of this monastery, but every now and then the majority does rule in China, and the other three of us were able to convince him (by riding away) that, since we had a general direction, we should get started.
It was a lovely ride through the ancient town, if you forget the times we almost crashed into pedestrians. After twenty minutes, we came to some sort of park and a stream. This is where the old town ended and the new town began (and where the map ended). After eating a couple of pineapple halves, we decided to continue north. After all, how far north of the ancient town could the monastery be?
We biked through city streets until we found one very large street leading towards the mountains on the east. There were mountains in every direction, forming a bowl around Lijiang, so at the very least- it would be impossible to get TOO lost (by more then ten miles or so).
Every so often, we would stop and ask directions. A shopkeep, a businessman, a gas station attendant, a man chopping wood. They all seemed to be pointing us in the same general direction with the comforting thought that "it is very near." We left the city and started biking through farmland. We reached another ancient town that competes with Lijiang for tourists. The monastery remained "very near." We managed to shake off the people trying to sell us things and continued on through more of the beautiful farmland. The farmers themselves were often out in the fields, harvesting or planting or whatever with just their bare hands and a few smaller tools. If one of them got a hold of a John Deere tractor, China would overtake America in a matter of years.
Two hours later. Hot, dehydrated, and on the other side of the mountains, we were once again "very near." We arrived in the smallest, most stereotypical Chinese village imaginable. The man we asked directions from was actually laying layers of mud to build a sort of wall. We couldn't understand his accent, so Maria called Dr. Sun and handed the phone over. When she took the phone back, Dr. Sun simply said "His mandarin is very bad. I can not understand him." and hung up.
What we got, in the form of some sort of charades from hell, was that the monastery was just up this large mountain, but we had to walk it. Since we had dedicated three hours already to this adventure, we decided to go for it. We chained our bikes together in the most theft-proof method possible (against the warnings/profiteering of an old lady who wanted us to keep them at her house) and started our hike up the mountain. And, of course, up the mountain was synonymous with "through the graveyard."
Chinese graveyards are very different from American ones. It seems as though they have parties up there and light fireworks on graves of loved ones so that they can celebrate too. Everywhere we went, shells of spent fireworks littered the ground. Also, in what was an entirely disconcerting moment, we picked up what looked like money on the ground. Printed in English, oddly enough, was "Bank of Hell Currency." Later, I found out that it is tradition to burn hellnotes for your relatives to spend in heaven. Or hell. Or whatever. I never really understood that part of Chinese culture.
We climbed on and saw no other people for half an hour. Then... hoofs. A clip-clop coming our way. It had been so long since we had seen anyone, we hid like Frodo from a Ring-wraith and jumped to the side of the road. On a parallel road, coming up, was what could have easily passed for the Chinese Marlboro Man, smoking astride his horse and, in a modern twist, listening to his ipod. He didn't see us, and we're pretty sure he didn't hear us, either. We followed him and his horses up the mountain, hoping that he was on a pilgrimage to see the monks. Another half an hour later, we had lost the scent of the horses and given up hope.
Then, suddenly- over the next ridge we climbed- we saw it! More trees and graves! Oh...
So we turned around, and I promised Chris, Maria, and Ben that when I told the story, I would end it like this (and ignore the part about taking another excruciating two hours to bike back): We may not have found a physical Tibetan monastery that day, but we certainly found the Tibetan monastery within ourselves and within our friendships, and THAT made the whole trip worth it.
That evening, after we returned the bikes and hobbled to the nearest dining establishment, I pulled out a pre-paid calling card that I had purchased in Beijing and started to call my girlfriend, Liza, who was in Spain. It was her birthday, and I had saved this card especially for that moment. The card did not work.
I tried again. It still didn't work. I looked at the small print on the back of the card. "This card will only work in the municipality of Beijing." Great.
I pulled out my best Chinese and started asking where I could buy a phone card. "Just over there," they would reply, "it is very near." I knew enough of that statement to become very sullen, and I trudged along. Eventually I found a phone store, and, after explaining exactly what I needed, they told me that they didn't have anything like that. "You don't have phone cards?" I asked. And again, the answer was no.
At least, I thought, I could catch Liza online. So I went back to the street with the internet cafe and... all the power in about four blocks of the city was out. Which, you know... figured.
Drunk with a mixture of exhaustion and incredulity, I ran down the streets of the old city, looking for someone... anyone... with a computer and an internet connection. When I saw lights again, I swerved into a shop where a young woman was using a computer. What I tried to say was "hello, could I please use your computer? I will pay you, I just have to talk to someone very quickly to say happy birthday. It is very important."
What I actually said was more like "Hello. Is that a computer you have there? It is imperative that I use it. I must speak. It is very famous that I do this. VERY famous. Here is money."
The woman offered me the computer and tried to politely decline any sort of compensation, but I simply put it on the table and said "no, you're being very nice to me. Please, take this." I caught Liza right before she was about to get offline, so I considered the adventure a success.
THE NEXT MORNING
Over the course of the previous day, Ben (fearless leader) had been plotting with some of the other group leaders to charter a bus and go to Shangri-la. Yes, THAT Shangri-la. So we did exactly that.
The trip to Shangri-la was long. Five hours each way, to be exact. To break up the monotony, we took a pit stop at one of the largest gorges in the world: Tiger Leaping Gorge. It got its name because, according to legend, a tiger once leaped across the gorge with the help of an extremely large rock in the center.
Will and Me at Tiger Leaping GorgeI apologize that the extremely large rock is not in this picture.
But I swear, it's there, and it's extremely large.
At the end of our visit to the gorge, I purchased some tasty walnuts. I'll explain why I mentioned that later, but let's just say that, as I type the word "walnuts" now, a month later, my head hurts and my muscles tense up.
On the bus again, I taught those nearest me fun time-killing games. The crowd favorite, "The Essences Game" (which Liza taught me) is a person-guessing game in which no helpful questions may be asked... only vague "essence" queries such as "what sort of flower/geographic formation/grade of gasoline/potato chip/Lord of the Rings Character would this person be?"
After that, we re-cast the Star Wars movies with people on the program. We are not nerds. Nope.
Our arrival in Shangri-la was anti-climactic. It was an old town, much like Lijiang, and a tourist trap. The only things different were the temperature (it was cold) and a third kind of writing on all the signs (Tibetan!). The cool stuff, as we learned, was a short bus ride away.
On the bus again, I taught those nearest me fun time-killing games. The crowd favorite, "The Essences Game" (which Liza taught me) is a person-guessing game in which no helpful questions may be asked... only vague "essence" queries such as "what sort of flower/geographic formation/grade of gasoline/potato chip/Lord of the Rings Character would this person be?"
After that, we re-cast the Star Wars movies with people on the program. We are not nerds. Nope.
Our arrival in Shangri-la was anti-climactic. It was an old town, much like Lijiang, and a tourist trap. The only things different were the temperature (it was cold) and a third kind of writing on all the signs (Tibetan!). The cool stuff, as we learned, was a short bus ride away.
Seven and a half hours after our trip began, we finally beheld what Shangri-la was all about.The monastery was magnificent... enormous rooms holding thirty and forty foot high Buddhas carved out of wood. There were monks outside, seemingly working on a new structure. I didn't realize this was an option, but some of my friends offered to carry dirt up a ramp to the top of this structure and help stamp it down with their feet. Sadly, I can not say that I helped build a Tibetan Monastery in Shangri-la... but I do know some folks who did.
As with all semi-touristy attractions, Shangri-la had its share of panhandlers, cute children for paid pictures, and wares-merchants. I managed to avoid the panhandlers and cute children, but I just had to buy a couple of Tibetan knives from the vendors. They were really great. I would show them to you, but they were confiscated out of my checked luggage in Beijing (this, despite my pointing at a sign that said "knives are OK if they are in checked luggage. The woman at the gate responded "these are not knives" and I was too dumbstruck to try and fight that.)
After three hours, we boarded our bus again and headed back for one last night in Lijiang. As usual, we had fun on the bus.
As with all semi-touristy attractions, Shangri-la had its share of panhandlers, cute children for paid pictures, and wares-merchants. I managed to avoid the panhandlers and cute children, but I just had to buy a couple of Tibetan knives from the vendors. They were really great. I would show them to you, but they were confiscated out of my checked luggage in Beijing (this, despite my pointing at a sign that said "knives are OK if they are in checked luggage. The woman at the gate responded "these are not knives" and I was too dumbstruck to try and fight that.)
After three hours, we boarded our bus again and headed back for one last night in Lijiang. As usual, we had fun on the bus.
On the five hour bus ride back from Shangri-laThat night I spent shaking, sweating, and vomiting relentlessly. Stupid walnuts.
The next morning, Jesse offered me a "nuclear option" stomach pill again (he had previously offered one in Chengdu), and this time I took it. According to him, the pill would "kill everything in [my] stomach. Everything."
I shuffled my feet all the way to the airport (where I spent some time sleeping on the floor) and generally tried to pass out all the way back to Kunming. The second we got back to the hotel, I got in bed and turned out all the lights. It was about six o' clock. I slept until nine the next morning, and I felt much better. I was, however, unmotivated to eat anything else while I remained in China.
From Kunming we flew back to Beijing, where we had one last free day before returning home. I went to the Pearl Market with the Will, Jesse, Nell, and Hillary and proceeded to buy things like a kid in an under-priced candy store. My German friend, Bill, who I had met on the plane to Harbin, met us there and went with me to KFC. He wanted a debriefing of my time in China, and we had a very nice chat that was helpful in wrapping-up my whole China experience.
That evening, we had our farewell banquet. Each Chinese class was supposed to do a short skit, but our class only had three members who showed up at the banquet (to be fair, a lot had left Beijing earlier). I thought we had gotten off free, but then Will started a chant that went something like "Mike's class, Mike's class" and everyone picked it up... so I got up and did a brief rant about why my class wasn't there. Then I told an awful joke about Pirates and Beijing cab drivers. It's not one I wish to save for posterity.
The next morning, Jesse offered me a "nuclear option" stomach pill again (he had previously offered one in Chengdu), and this time I took it. According to him, the pill would "kill everything in [my] stomach. Everything."
I shuffled my feet all the way to the airport (where I spent some time sleeping on the floor) and generally tried to pass out all the way back to Kunming. The second we got back to the hotel, I got in bed and turned out all the lights. It was about six o' clock. I slept until nine the next morning, and I felt much better. I was, however, unmotivated to eat anything else while I remained in China.
From Kunming we flew back to Beijing, where we had one last free day before returning home. I went to the Pearl Market with the Will, Jesse, Nell, and Hillary and proceeded to buy things like a kid in an under-priced candy store. My German friend, Bill, who I had met on the plane to Harbin, met us there and went with me to KFC. He wanted a debriefing of my time in China, and we had a very nice chat that was helpful in wrapping-up my whole China experience.
That evening, we had our farewell banquet. Each Chinese class was supposed to do a short skit, but our class only had three members who showed up at the banquet (to be fair, a lot had left Beijing earlier). I thought we had gotten off free, but then Will started a chant that went something like "Mike's class, Mike's class" and everyone picked it up... so I got up and did a brief rant about why my class wasn't there. Then I told an awful joke about Pirates and Beijing cab drivers. It's not one I wish to save for posterity.
One last look at Shaoyuan 5We said our goodbyes, and the next morning we took leave of Beida. The four months we were there went by so fast. I still find it hard to believe I was even in China. But I have pictures and quite a few new friends who seem to have materialized out of nowhere, so I'm reasonably convinced that I was there.
I have now been back for over a month. I apologize for those who were expecting a quick trip-summary, but, like I said at the start of this blog, I can occasionally be lazy.
I hope that I have written down, as accurately as possible, my experiences in China. I have a terrible memory, so in a few years what I've written here is all I'm going to remember, I'm sure. I've enjoyed sharing it with you, and have appreciated all the comments (Kay). I encourage you all to visit China sometime- it is a fascinating and amazing place.
With that, I think I will end this all-too-long narrative. This will be the last post on this blog, but I've had such fun writing it that perhaps I'll have to do another at some point.
Thanks for reading. Zaijian, y'all.
-Mike
I hope that I have written down, as accurately as possible, my experiences in China. I have a terrible memory, so in a few years what I've written here is all I'm going to remember, I'm sure. I've enjoyed sharing it with you, and have appreciated all the comments (Kay). I encourage you all to visit China sometime- it is a fascinating and amazing place.
With that, I think I will end this all-too-long narrative. This will be the last post on this blog, but I've had such fun writing it that perhaps I'll have to do another at some point.
Thanks for reading. Zaijian, y'all.
-Mike
