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.
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