December 2nd, 2006

To Lhasa (Train Continued)

I was awakened, at about 5:30am, by the steady stream of smoke entering our cabin. The duration of this toxin is almost unbearable. My hopes were held to the written regulation stating that there would be no more smoking allowed after the oxygen is turned on.

Pong, treated me to breakfast of various vinegar aged vegetables, a hardboiled egg, and cold red bean soup with rice. He is a very friendly guy whose favorite phrase was “Are you ok?” After the fourth questioning, I realized that was his way to engage in conversation with his limited English vocabulary.

The oxygen starting time came and went, but the chain smoking continued. It was so thick that my lungs started to seize. Great, now I was thousands of miles from home and no inhaler. Annoyance led to pure frustration. The Chinese nationals and train staff had been smoking non-stop in the dining car that clearly had a “No Smoking” sign. Finally, I got up and pointed to the sign, after which one of the staff finally made everyone put out their cigarettes. Call me “Mr. Popular” but I wasn’t about to go into an asthmatic fit with no medical aid in sight. This lasted for only about half an hour until the conductor came into the car and fired up a smoke. Even though the inevitable risk is very low, I’m just waiting for the news of the “New Train to Lasa” blowing up due to exploding oxygen canisters.” Of course the cause of the explosion will be listed as “unknown”.

Life went from awful to worse when food poisoning kicked in. Not only was I a victim but half of the first class. One can only imagine the living hell of heightened senses and the putrid stench of over fifty confined chain smoking, wretching people. This fantasy train ride has been an exercise in “Fear Factor” style endurance. (Don't be deceived by the plastic rose on the table... haaa.)



The upside was the scenery was stunning. As we climbed to around 5,000 meters above see level the snow covered mountains and alpine lake were a welcome visual distraction and relief.





My cabin mates, Ingo and Julia, split a cab into town and the Yak Hotel.



Probably the best decision to date was to pay $20 a night for a single room, instead of a $5 shared room. No sooner than literally crossing the room’s threshold and a night of exhausting evacuation began. Thank goodness my body held the worst for the hotel and not the train.

December 1, 2006

Xi’an to Lasa

I will get right to the criticism so that hopefully things will finish strongly or at least neutral by the end. Leaving the polluted city of Xi’an was definitely high on my priority list. So, the 32kg on my back felt almost light. I hopped street curbs with ease and smiled back at the gaukers. My send off was especially sweet because one of the housekeepers at the hostel rather insistently thought I should have a banana for the road.

My expectations for the train were high as service from Beijing to Lasa is less than five months old. Externally, the train looked hardly different that any of the other Chinese passenger carriers. Internally, after not even half a year of service the inside was a filthy wreck. The bunks were already torn and the carpet worn with ground in dirt. I’ve seen 30 year-old trains in Europe that looked better. It is bewildering how this culture has almost no concept of cleanliness and it appears can decompose almost anything to primal elements in record timing. This truly is a simple concept, run a vacuum, wipe surfaces down, actually have liquid soap in the dispensers.



To add to the fun, I am really struggling with the incessant smoking. There is literally nowhere to escape, as smoking is permitted everywhere and the air systems re-circulate everything. All the windows are locked shut. I feel like one of those rats, locked in the clear plastic box that gets pumped with cigarette smoke to prove the health risks of smoking. The good news is that tomorrow morning about 9:00am everyone is required to stop smoking when the train starts to introduce oxygen into the cabins.

The other clear favorite is the xenophobic open prejudice we experience as obvious non-locals. This presents itself in classic symptoms of refusal of service by the food cart personnel to selective menu options. The craziest thing is that the guidebooks suggest eating the bochoy and mushrooms, which the food car refuses to serve foreigners. At first we thought it was a “lost in translation” issue, but even after pointing at the dishes of the nationals and having the Chinese characters written for the waitress there was no service. This carried on for three meals in a row. Maybe tomorrow we will have better luck.



Sorry, one more macabre treat. Passing through Lan Zhou, which has the honor of being the most polluted city in the world, words struggle to describe the noontime dusk and fog of filth. It was like a deep San Francisco marine layer of toxin that gave me a claustrophobic twinge, evoking my “flight” reflex.







Now for the upside of this train trip… My cabin-mates are a very friendly couple from Berlin who took the Trans-Siberian Railway from Moscow over the continent and then trains to Beijing, with the final route being to Lasa. It is so comforting to have a peaceful cabin where at least the mental environment is healthy.





We met Kris, an American photographer, who happened to be in the middle of an interview for Chinese television and two British nationals. After dinner we sat in the dining car and chatted until about mid-night. The first class, “soft sleeper”, compartments were only about half full, so our dining car was relatively empty.



Ok, I wanted to finish on a positive note, but at least maybe you can laugh at me instead. There are little green bottles sold almost everywhere in China for about 3-5 Yuan or around $0.50. Being curious, I asked the group what it was. Next thing you know, after being ignored by the passing cart attendant, John yells out to her in Chinese to stop. 5 Yuan later and we are splitting the bottle, about four ounces each for the two of us. This is never, ever, ever, a good idea.



If someone tries to twist your arm to drink the devils water, “just say no!” After taking a single gulp we realized that the proof on the bottle was 118. Smooooooth… not. Let the pain and laughter of the rest of the traveling foreigners begin. No worries there was nothing projectile, just enough malaise to make me want to steer clear of anything with a percentage symbol on the bottle for a while, plus the joy of a heightened sense of smell to enjoy the output from my chain smoking host nation.

November 30, 2006

Xi’an (Warriors & Permission)

The day of the Terra Cotta Warriors began with the first excellent night’s sleep in about 10 days. The hostel is basically empty, with only six of us populating the five floors. I had a four-bed multi-share room to myself. The door had an inside latch, which secured a quick and deep sleep.



After waking about 9:00am, I tried to call Mom using Skype. Success, we talked for about an hour. This is an amazing feat, given the spotty internet in China. The day was off to a great start.

I picked up my ticket for tomorrow's train trip to Lasa and took the 306 bus out to the countryside. The bus driver and the money taker were very funny. Even though I don’t understand Chinese it was easy to follow along with their jokes. They were the same ones found in a New York, Cleveland, or San Francisco. “Look a pretty girl. Oh she wants the bus to stop. Chuckle, chuckle, comments, and giggles, then put the straight face on for when she gets on the bus. After she sat down in the back of the bus I couldn’t help but laugh. The international look of, “Oh no we’ve just been busted” was on their faces. The three of us laughed together with heads nodding in agreement. After that, they kept trying to bring me into the “non-contextual” jokes, which of course I had no idea of what they were talking about without the visual aid. The driver wanted to try out my camera, so I took a picture of him.



The money taker, because no tickets were dispensed, thought I wanted to go to the Imperial Palace and gardens so directed me off of the bus. I purchased an entry ticket and for $0.40 splurged on the go-cart service to tour the grounds, expecting to see the terra cotta soldiers at any moment. It became clear after about five minutes that this was not the right spot. Through mime my guide got the picture of what I was really seeking. He brought me somewhat reluctantly to a side building/gift shop. Inside was a great surprise. One of the original farmers who found the terra cotta soldiers, while digging a well, was sitting at a table with a stack of books. The poor old farmer had nodded off to sleep. He gently woke up to meet me. What a kind man. I got the feeling like this was a designated state sentence for him that he accepted with grace. The signed book simply had to be purchased. What a great happenstance of misdirection!

A quick taxi ride and I was at the doorstep of what used to be a poor farmer's field. The Chinese government has turned this historical area into a Disney Land meets Wal-Mart, crammed with needless tourist junk. One is forced to literally walk three quarters of a mile through a labyrinth of taunting and arm pulling before reaching the true entrance gate. Once inside, the still warriors are a spectacle if you allow them to come to life. Each one has his own individual likeness and purpose. Entire regiments are arranged strategically placed for battle.











In typical modern Chinese style, an entire four-story building is dedicated to two bronze chariots. Beautiful, but the level of pomp and circumstance is a little over the top, especially when one has to travel for an hour on crumbling streets just to get here.





Running short on time, I took a taxi to the Tibetan Embassary office and was met with the same welcoming warmth as the day before. The officer was so happy to help, that it really made my day. Armed with official permission papers and a train ticket I was honestly excited tomorrow. This led to a little bit of craziness in the form of taking a moped taxi back to the hostel.

November 29, 2006

To Xi’an

What a perfect Beijing morning. The northwesterly breeze brought beautiful blue skies to the city. Traffic was not all that tough and the taxi made it to the airport in about 45 minutes. This provided a solid two hour and fifteen minute buffer before departure, which contrary to US travel is a welcome comforter.

Surprise! The time printed on my ticket was over an hour later than the real departure. So, arriving with a buffer allowed me to simply wait 20 minutes and board the flight, which was perfect. China Air is unbelievable. The service is superb and the food truly delicious. What a great flight.



Xi’an is proving to be an interesting city. The pollution level is at least 20 times worse than Beijing. In the middle of the day it feels like dusk is approaching through the orange haze. This is the first city where my eyes are watering from the pollution. The sulfur is thick like Rotorua, New Zealand, except there are no visible volcanoes as a source.



To travel to Tibet in a couple of days I need to gain an official permission, translating into handing over $100 for a red rubber ink stamp on paper. This process used to take a week, but has been condensed to 3 to 5 days. A miracle of sorts will need to take place to be able to receive one in just 24 hours. Fortunately, the manager of the hostel knows exactly where the Tibet Embassary office is located, on the other side of town, and the proper person with whom to speak.

The Tibetan building looked like a communist era relic, complete with peeling paint and dank lighting. A man from the gatehouse led me down musty dark corridors the color of nicotine staining. Then he stopped and pointed the rest of the way down the hall to the lone door. (This could be the perfect entry scene for a horror flick.) No one was there. The sign displayed the operating hours until 6:30pm and it was only 4:30pm. My decision was to wait and see.





About fifteen minutes later a woman came by talking on her cell phone. She pointed to the door and I nodded. Her hand grazed across the posted sign in true "Vanna White" style emphasizing the obvious phone number. I mimed the fact that I didn’t have one. She then momentarily stopped her conversation to say, “One moment please.” After no more than three or four minutes she dialed the phone number, initiated the conversation, and politely handed me the phone. I was now talking with the proper contact. He was very congenial and said he would “be right there”. Thanking my heroine, I wondered what “be right there” really meant. In any case it was bound to be less than the two hours I was previously willing to wait.



Within minutes, along came my smiling Tibetan contact. He was so gracious and willing to help. Asking when I wanted to travel and hearing the response of “the day after tomorrow” he replied, “No problem, I will give you a copy of the permission so you can buy a ticket tomorrow and then you come back at 5pm tomorrow and I will give you the official permission.” He was so happy to help and even seemed excited for me to be heading to Lasa.

Filled with the energy of my Tibetan exposure, I walked the two hours back to the hostel. Even in the thick haze of nighttime smog the ancient walls of the city were beautiful.







I stopped in a local restaurant for the special "Xi’an Style" noodles with an egg on top and Sichuan chicken. It was all delicious and the price of $3 couldn’t be beat.

November 28, 2006

Beijing (Llama Temples, Pandas, Summer Palace, Forbidden City)

Kevin Lee, the same tour guide as the Ming Tomb and Great Wall tour, picked me up this morning from the hotel. It was great to see his smiling face sticking outside the door of the bus cheerfully yelling my name. Today we were joined by Silvia, a French woman, and Vanessa from South Africa.



We tackled the Llama temples including the largest wooden Buddha in the world. These wooden Buddhas are made from a single piece of wood. The amazing fact about the Buddha we saw today is that it was over 100 ft. high and at least 30 ft. thick, all from a single Tibetan sandlewood tree. The tree was a gift from the Buddhist Llama of Tibet when the emperor decided (in a politically astute move) to build a Llama temple in Beijing. (Sorry they only allowed pictures of the outside.)





The pandas in the zoo were full of wonder. They were unusually active and of course were amazingly photogenic.





The Emperor’s Summer Palace could easily be a spot of repose for an entire day in the appropriate season. During the late fall it was still beautiful, especially the over 14,000 paintings and the obvious thought put into the layout.











The famous stone barge was built as a symbol of the unsinkable durability of the dynasty, but even the tour guide pointed out that it didn’t float so technically couldn’t be sunk.



After the Summer Palace I was dropped off at the Forbidden City for a chilly stroll through the many corridors and palace temples. Beijing is in major restorative mode, so the largest temples or empirical halls were tarped and under construction.







Strolling toward and eventually out the main Tiananmen Gate one can’t help but be taken aback by the density of military and police guards, not to mention to typical marching icons.



The Tiananmen incident is still a very soar spot for the powers that be and overt control of the area is clearly evident.

November 27, 2006

Beijing (Hutong Tour)

A Hutong is a style of one-story structure built during the Yuan, Ming, and Qing Dynasties around the Forbidden City. The structures were typically quadrangles, with large courtyards, housing nobles and support for the Emperor. Typically, one family would occupy an entire quadrangle. Today six to eight families occupy the same space. Many of the courtyards have now been filled with additional structures, providing kitchens and outhouses for the additions families.





A large contributor to Beijing's famous air pollution is the burning of coal for heat and cooking fuel by tens of millions of families. Coal is taken from raw form and pressed into cylinders. After the fuel has been consumed the cylinder turns from black to a lighter gray, without losing shape. The good news is that with the coming Summer Olympics, this is the last winter that coal can legally be burned in Beijing. Massive hydro-electric projects under way are to generate enough electricity to replace coal burning in the future.





A great mode of transportation around the narrow Huton District streets is pedi-bike.



The 700 year old Huton District is now under cultural attack around Lake Shishahai. Old structures are being torn down and replaced with new historical replica's that will be bars for the Summer Olympics crowds.







After the Huton tour we headed to the former residence of the "Last Emperor's" uncle. A great irony of China is its inability to fully admit the massive flaws of Mao and his systematic destruction of their cultural artifacts and millions of people. The shattered remaining history has now been gobbled up by the state and put on display with pride. The cognitive dissonance is numbing. As beautiful as the house and grounds were, the irony is that the only reason why it is held up as a jewel today is that the house was considered too insignificant to destroy during the cultural revolution. Under hushed voice, the guide said that the official party line is now that Mao was 60% correct. They end the sentence there, skillfully ommiting the 40% wrong portion.





It was a very pleasant surprise to receive an energetic reception from a military choir waiting to perform for tourists. This was the response to just a casual wave.



To say that the tea is China was amazing would be unbelievably trite, but it was. To sit through the forty-five minute tea ceremony, trying five different styles of tea, was a relaxing pleasure.



One of the pleasures of travel is meeting many new people. Tonight that translated into a "traditional dinner", specifically designed for tourists, with some great Australians and the Chinese National Acrobats.