China and Tibet – 2010

Beijing was beautiful yesterday, the smog smothered by a strong rain shower the night of my arrival…on the next morning, the sun was out and was blue, the air was not quite Honolulu but a deep breath could be taken without tasting any soot. This was a pleasant surprise, as we left Honolulu, armed with a handful of face masks, thinking we  would not be seeing blue skies for the next 14 days! Indeed, an intermittent cool breeze whisked away telltale exhaust fumes keeping me comfortable, exhilarated and alert, fighting off the inevitable jet lag from the previous day’s incarceration on two delta airlines flights.

On the streets, an ant colony of Chinese locals were purposely navigating every corner, but quietly, discreetly and without notice, making way for those passing by and keeping me relatively free from being the focus of too much attention.  They were in all forms and shapes; children abound with their funny little shorts sporting an open seam at the rear with their little butt cheeks on display – there to facilitate the obvious of bodily functions or maybe as a practical Chinese open air remedy for diaper rash! The children were playing happily but not outrageously spoiled or noisy. The disproportionate ratio of little boys to little girls was obvious, but every child was doted on as a precious little emperor or empress. By in large the parents ..or the children, depending on the point of view, seemed in control. Of course, this is a must in a city of 18 million people - many of whom were outdoors on this glorious day enjoying the perfect weather. 

Most Chinese are slim, or maybe considered anorexic by American standards (ha ha…), and a surprising number were tall….and getting taller…at least in the north of China.  And even on the crowded subway, when the people packed like sardines producing a level of unaccustomed and mildly uncomfortable human contact for us Americans, the Chinese were civil, quiet and unassuming, not pushy or brass.  They were mostly decently dressed, middle class people making their way through the day without wanting or needing to make waves. The people were friendly, going out of their way to give directions to the hopelessly lost and clueless tourists who see every street with variations of the same name; Quin or Qin or Qun.  One helpful young woman went out of her way to help us with a money card at the nearby food court…to purchase a bowl of fat Peking noodles for 1.50 USD and a half liter of draft beer for .75 USD! These were not prices that I expected to pay.  In any case, it was not clear where the homeless were hiding or have been chased off to, or maybe China has only a few remaining who have left for more generous and greener pastures.

  

Having been biased by others, I was not expecting Beijing to be such a wonderful city.  But then again, I was there at the perfect time…mid-October, lucky enough to have a minimum of smog, crisp sunny days, and traffic that was manageable. No matter what, Beijing is a must, not only to learn about this very old and globally important low rise capital city, but also to experience the historical sites…Tian’an Men Square, Forbidden City, Great Wall, etc….

It was indeed a delightful city, even without the world renowned historical sites.  Tree lined streets and highways framed by thousands of flowers neatly organized into red, yellow, and pink displays with – chrysanthemums, impatiens, poinsettias, roses, anthuriums, marigolds, gladiolas, petunias, etc.  There was an abundance of modestly paid old men  - who were public workers picking off the streets the most microscopic of debris, and the meticulous cleansing resulted in spotlessness not often present in a city of this massive size.  This certainly made Beijing special and inviting.  A little European, a little Asian, a little American, it was hard to compare to any other city….it had its own charm and flavor. People looked friendly if not intent; no one had the stereotyped look of the sun baked drably dressed Chinese worker riding their bicycles to work resigned and without emotion.  They were dressed well, by themselves or with their families, and even the street vendors were not too pushy, quickly reading the body language of the tourists they were trying to engage and pursue.

One cute place that we encountered was the Silk Market located one subway stop from the famous Beijing Hotel.  The Silk Market was not unlike other indoor or outdoor markets (this one was indoor) filled with cubicle sized stalls which appeared to be independent shops, but whenever you asked for something that was not part of their inventory, another back scene worker would rush away intently and return the next instant with the proper size, color and shape of the garment you wanted, presumably borrowing from another stall…perhaps from a friend, maybe a family member…who knows what strange alliances form within this labyrinth of Chinese small business enterprise?.  It was indeed a trick I had witnessed before in other countries, demonstrating the interdependence of the hundreds of shops ready to serve your needs, whatever they may be.  The shops basically sold the same things, there was no reason to venture out to more than a dozen, but somehow you find yourself roving pass an endless procession of vendors wooing you with words and even gently by the arm….anything to trap you into their stall where the fun begins. This particular day, a Chinese vendor was particularly lively, cracking jokes, doling out complements and was prodding me with her hands to insure that I was not getting away without some closure.  I was seemingly a target for the main vendor, she managed to zip up my jacket that I was considering, and felt obliged to man handled me further including a brief stroke of my beard (considering the rarity of Chinese men with real beards)….all in the name of business and perhaps curiosity.  In the end, she got what she wanted and I didn’t mind the man handling; she was cute and young and brazen and it was all for fun.

I would bore even myself if I provided an account of every monument and every important site during this China expedition.  Indeed, the Forbidden City, while magnificent, seemed more magnificent on the big screen in the movie the Last Emperor.  On the other hand, I have been yearning to visit the Great Wall for decades and even feared that I would die before this would happen, so I was dearly happy to attain this goal during my lifetime.  It happened on a glorious day that was sunny, cool but not cold, breezy but not too windy, and dry….  The tourists were out in numbers but the numbers were not oppressive.  It was easy to navigate, there was time to take pictures and we  spent several hours…climbing higher and higher on the uneven rock steps and inclined pathway.

I had time to register the essence of my feelings on the wall….a small taste of the smallest increment of the great wall left me in awe of how it would be to travel the entire length, to imagine the duration of its construction and repair extending over 2 centuries, to understand the extent of its reach and geography, and to grasp the extent of the many calculations published to document how many times around the world the wall, under various conditions, would extend.

I felt satisfied that I had fulfilled a travel dream and lived to write about it.  Even walking the wall or climbing the stairs of the wall was no small feat….how any horde of humans could build such a structure is to me inconceivable.  And to think the purpose of the wall - to protect the Chinese from Mongolian invasion was ultimately unsuccessful.  A pursuit that took so long and cost so much in human toil was constructed at the whim and command of many emperors, ultimately a reflection of their supreme and unmitigated power, and stands as a symbol of a time that has long passed.   

Before leaving the Great Wall, I must acknowledge an undigested wonder and enchantment that encompassed me over the 3 days in Beijing that I cannot entirely define or describe.  It is as though God himself wanted me to have a grand experience, knowing what a bad traveler I am, sensitive to the heat and humidity, sensitive to the ambient air quality and by the asphyxiating stench of cigarette smoke, and sensitive to the local environment, the people, how they communicate and how they interact with foreign strangers in their midst.  I could not have had a more perfect three days in Beijing! (OK, this is a bit of an exaggeration). And add to this a clean city colored with green trees (they insure this by periodically spray washing the trees) and yellow and red flowers just about everywhere for good measure.

Finally, I realize that others, not so fortunate, will tell another story, but I do not want to spoil this perfect image by emphasizing that the dark and polluted reality is the more common encounter. And through public awareness, governmental incentives to use electric heating and air conditioning while banning the burning of coal, and mandating community driving programs that limit any citizen’s access to the road to 6 out of 7 days in order to reduce cars on the road and improve air quality, the quality of the air has actually gotten better. Many changes in the community were made to prepare for the Olympics…including massive changes in infrastructure such as the expansion of the Chinese subway system in Beijing propelled the city toward a cleaner healthier city, and the momentum generated from the Olympics has continued to the present.  The important matter here is that the Chinese government can see how cleaning up Beijing’s air pays economic dividends, a driving force that is all too important to ignore beyond the global health issues that this so obviously represents.  OK, get ready for the next small town?

Xi’an is not so fortunate – they are still allowed to burn coal, making it nearly impossible for Mother Nature to clear the smog even on the best of days.  Still, the two days there were not bad, the sun shined intermittently and the stench of the soot was not apparent, at least not all of the time as in more polluted cities like Delhi, India. This city is small by Beijing standards with only 7 million people.  Like Beijing, the distribution of people across this sprawling city diluted the population concentration and made the crowding less apparent.

New high rise buildings stood across from those in disrepair.  Historical sites lit up by the ornate colorful signature Chinese tile roofs and beautiful colored historical buildings.  We managed to find the time to ride a bicycle on the city wall, navigating around the imperfections of the brick surface (you would be imperfect too if you were 600 years old) with a tolerably bumpy fun ride.  We then visited a jade factory who managers I disappointed by refusing to unload a wad of money on some unnecessary glob of heavy but beautiful jade, and when my position stood firm, I was whisked away to eat yet another meal in a tourist safe Chinese restaurant.

The rest of the day was spent at the Terra-Cotta Museum learning about and appreciating the hundreds of soldiers and horses on display.  And of course these soldiers were crafted to serve the emperor after his death in preparation for the afterlife. The striking fact is that no two soldiers are the same; each is unique in size, shape, facial characteristics and clothes.  It was located at the excavation site; how unique.  You can actually see the work that is being done and appreciate the magnitude of the work yet to be completed!….. It will probably require several more decades. The museum itself was amazing, pleasant and warm despite its massive size.  There is no Emperor or King or Pharaoh or ruler of any kind in the history of mankind who outdid the massive undertaking of Emperor Qin Shi Huangdi …….. in preparing himself for the afterlife.   By the way, he ended up dying before the site was completed and had to be stored away, covered by rotting fish to mask the stench of decomposing royal flesh until he could be delivered to his final resting place joined by 48 of his favorite concubines who were reportedly buried alive??? – Really, it is so hard to believe that he could be such a bastard!! Nevertheless, it’s odd to me how many world figures throughout the ages have spent a good part of their lives preparing for their death in search for an eternal afterlife (the best examples are in Egypt of course); in this case, the Emperor spent more than his lifetime attempting to reach this goal!

Fast forward to the present day situation for the common man; the average salary of citizens in Xi’an is about $3,000 a year (roughly twice that of their East Indian counterpart).  How they survive is through working a second job frequently for cash which does not get reported to the government.  And to spur this effort, there is an active “ghost market” where people buy and sell goods at severely discounted rates, whose origin is suspect.  Our tour guide told a cute story about the bicycle industry in China – since China builds and sells more bicycles than any other country on earth for prices ranging from the reasonable ($30 USD) to the unreasonable.  Naturally some of these are stolen off the street.  One story is legend of someone yelling at a stop light that was crowded by bicyclers “hey, you are riding my bicycle”, at which point 7 riders from the crowd immediately abandon their bicycles and run away into the night fueled by their apparent guilt.  One can only imagine how quickly these abandoned bicycles subsequently showed up again on the ghost market.  This is China at its best!

A little about the tour and food: God, you hear such stories about the Chinese eating anything alive that I was really expecting to stay nauseated by the sight of people eating scorpions and living fish and insects and pig snouts and bug organs and animal toe nails, and….you get the picture.  We brought a generous supply of nuts and pretzels preparing for the inevitable.  So, far, I’m disappointed beyond words.  All of the food prepared in tourist safe Chinese restaurants is virtually identical to those found in the US, minus the San Fran contrived fortune cookie.  I’m not sure whether I’m truly disappointed or comforted by this; clearly I am getting tired of Chinese cuisine, but at least it’s safe and friendly and familiar and I’m gaining weight expecting my present meal will the last familiar meal before meeting up with Mr. Scorpion.  Breakfast buffets at the 5 star hotels do not help the waist line; I continue to delude myself with the notion that if I can eat an egg white omelet smothered with cheese and still be healthy.   I think Americans are particularly gifted at being delusional with their health and eating and exercise habits and I am no exception.  And I am resigned to the fact that my dance teacher will really be angry with me when I return looking like an over inflated blimp.  Indeed, this will not add to my self esteem!

China has prepared itself well for the onslaught of tourists.  But it is a little sad that we are being taken to the Beijing Opera and other dance and music shows in beautiful hotels in wonderful and colorful venues that are filled with tourists like ourselves. This is not to say that I would prefer to sit through 3 ½ hours of the real Beijing opera but it is still disappointing to be herded like cattle to experience these cultural showcases. Admittedly, it is quite the performance: the Chinese are adept at flocking you in, serving you dishes named “Princess Pin”, “Orange Melody”, and “Exotic Herbal”.  As we were eating, we were serenaded by young women dressed in colorful Tang Dynasty costumes, and given an introduction in the various venues which ranged from a cacophony of high pitched shrilled singing to acrobats and Kung fu fighters jumping off the stage so close to the tourist tables that you could reach out and trip them without being noticed. The glitter and visual feast delivered, you are emptied swiftly from the dinner theatre with the same breath that they discard the remaining food off of your plate and wash the dishes preparing for the next flock of cattle to herd.

Wasting time on the way to the airport to leave for Lhasa, the capital of Tibet for the next three days….wow, Tibet, you bet I want to get to Tibet.  No sweat! 

What a beautiful country, mountains galore, but so much more in store. The air was fresh and clean, and Lhasa was indeed pristine. The hotel was a museum, which could only be imagined in your dream. Ok, enough of this…..the thin air has just dissolved my aging brain……

In Lhasa, we were greeted at the airport bedecked (like leis) with white silk scarves representing friendship and purity. The snow capped Himalayan and clear blue skies were indeed a sight to behold, especially considering the typical situation in other China cities.  The beauty around me was comforting, but I could hardly breathe or think at 12,000 feet above sea level, rapidly reducing me to a vegetable.  Anyway, this is good preparation for when I’m 103 and have outlived my father.  This was the unappreciated “high-light” of the trip to Tibet.

The next highlight is the Potala palace, built in the 7^th century and updated and expanded in the 17^th, reported to be the highest point in Lhasa.  Hopefully, I’ll be able to live through the 300 million steps that everyone has to climb to get to this heaven, so I can write about it.

Actually, the first night at the Brahmaputra Hotel was bad, waking up with a throbbing headache and an empty bladder proving that the physiology of altitude sickness is no myth, but this condition was ultimately defeated by a few doses of ibuprofen.  The Palace stood towering majestically over the city for all to see; it was made of straw compressed and mixed with mud and egg (Tibetan concrete)  painted white and red and black, it had many functions over the ages and serves as the final resting place for all of the Dali Lamas including the 5^th, who is considered the greatest of them all. The palace has hundreds of rooms but thankfully only a few were open to the public.  We had to laboriously and breathlessly climb more than 360 steps into the heavens to arrive to a labyrinth of barely lit connecting rooms of all shapes and sizes.  Indeed, I could see myself lost forever in this maze of history and color, exquisite and unique beyond expectation, but musty and dusty and dirty and dark.  Moreover, it is filled with the smell of tourists and Tibetans and the Yak butter lamps used to keep the hundreds of candles burning throughout the palace perpetuating the scent of decaying flesh forever a reminder of the deceased Dali Lamas whose bodies are stored in ornately covered gold and jeweled coffins…..wow, what a run on sentence…...

In this holist of sanctuaries, Tibetans mix with the tourists with understandable impatience, disregard and seeming disdain; discounting the fact that foreigners pay 100 times more to gain entrance into the palace.  Young and old, they push their way forward.  I initially thought that some visitors were witlessly muttering like in a psych ward, but later shocked by this personal insensitivity; I realized that these were Tibetans quietly chanting their prayers.  They announced their arrival by the increasing strength and intensity of this repetitive humming chant which broadcasted an increasingly strong signal as they rapidly closed in on us at the front.  They uncomfortably and sometimes perilously nudge and jolt the tourists aside while overtaking the narrow corridors and the hundreds of unequal steps going up and down throughout this amazingly complex dark maze.  You had to brace yourself for the onslaught, catch your breath and hope that you will not be trampled by the intermittent stampede.

This is not to say that the Tibetans were unfriendly; at least as they appeared on the streets as kind and gentle people who engaged the tourists with smiles and offered themselves for viewing and the continuous barrage of cameras focused on them by the hordes of tourists?  Still, the Tibetans seem robbed of their way of life much in the same way that we robbed the American Indian of their land and culture. In fact, there are many analogies and similarities between these two populations including their physical appearance (folk clothes, songs and dance).

It seems that all of the PROGRESS made in Tibet has been made by the Chinese.  Local businesses and restaurants and the proliferation of shops and computer stores are mostly if not entirely owned by the Chinese.  Infrastructure like roads and public works, airport facilities, etc also comes from the coiffeurs of the central Chinese government. Is this progress or a forever changing world imposed by the Chinese on those whose values are different, who come from another time and another place, imbued with age old concepts of Buddhism and a spiritual life that has contributed to humanity and human understanding.  Their world has forever changed, and this has created the tension that is apparent on the streets and in the palace, and I was constantly reminded of this apprehension by the large number of scary looking police and/or soldiers who are visibly on patrol everywhere in Lhasa sporting huge loaded machine guns and wearing bullet proof vests – a scene not otherwise witnessed in any other local of China.  Just try to take a picture in Tibet that includes these soldiers and see what they will do to your camera.

I also visited Jokhang Temple and Sera Monastery during my stay.  Jokhang Temple was unlike any temple I had ever experienced.  It is the most sacred of temples in Tibet and the life long dream of Tibetan villagers to pass beyond its doors at least once in their lifetime.  As poor as these people are, the religious tradition is to feed the temple with cash donations; consequently the temple offering bowls were filled to the brim with paper money.  It was astonishing to see all the play looking paper bills everywhere, spilling over to the floor, oozing from the offering plates and other intended receptacles.  When the pilgrims could not reach the bowls, they tucked the paper money in any conceivable crevice, used Yak milk to paste them on the walls, shoved them into picture frames, and when all else failed, just threw them on the floor in front of the deities.  

This Temple was another maze of rooms, the local Tibetans slowly pacing about while clinging to the perimeter walls to insure that they regard and pray to each and every religious figure and relic and Buddha.  This could take many hours, and so the tourists are allowed an alterative path, entering thru the exit way, which made the experience tolerable and also safe from the obligatory bludgeoning one gets while in the queue or when funneling down to what is intended to be a single procession of visitors exiting the temple.  I left wondering why tourist were allowed into this temple in the first place, intruding on the most private of religious experiences for what is clearly a fiercely religious people.  At least they should limit our entrance to times that are not used for religious ceremony. 

Less than half of the temple was in its original form, the abundance of faded colorfully painted trim; carpets thrown everywhere and beautifully jeweled and gold woven silk tapestry were lit by yak butter lamps which were continuously replenished by the procession of pilgrims who brought with them thermos bottles filled with this very expensive fuel.  This and the choking smell of incense – all gave the place a vulnerable feel.  How can this, the holiest of holy places not have suffered major fire damage countless times?  I suppose only Buddha really knows the answer to this one.

Tibetans surrounding the perimeter outside of the temple were cordoned off from those passing by to gain entrance inside and to give them additional space to worship and for the act of prostration. Although I will not be able to do justice to the description of this most unusual, demonstrative, and overenthusiastic of their religious worship rituals, I will nevertheless attempt to do so (I actually took a video that I can send anyone if they would like to see this in real life).  Young and old, male and female, this ritual spares no one. They would start by raising their arms stretched directly over their heads where their palms meet at the apex, and immediately withdraw down to the point where their hands appose their face which nods slight down to complete the typical Buddha prayer position.  From here they rapidly drop to the ground to their knees from standing, their arms would then stretch out diagonally, as they fall completely to the ground lunging forward with their hands clasping  palm sized squares of wood or other material placed strategically on either side of their bodies, acting as a buffer to the ground.  As they lunge forward – they push the wood block forward with them generating a loud and harsh scraping sound.  The ritual would end when the worshiper was flat on the ground (prone), head buried to the earth, hands spread eagled over their heads, and legs together. Truly the best analogy that I can use to help the reader visualize this is children who fall to the snow covered ground to create the imprint of an angel.  In any case, this ritual is repeated over and over and over. I was particularly impressed by those much older than me who performed this ritual a dozen times as I passed by the flock of worshipers.  Wow, what an experience; there are truly many things to learn in life that are unexpected.  In the end, I left contemplating the positive and negative attributes of this physically demanding maneuver to one’s health and physical conditioning.

After unloading some cash on the trillions of indoor and outdoor shops and markets surrounding the temple, and after another humdrum lunch serving the same food as the one served previously, we ventured to the Sera Monastery for a visit.  This experience was not all that interesting or enlightening.  The monastery was soiled by hordes of tourists and their oversized cameras, the monks were performing their daily afternoon ritual of debate, conveniently timed for our arrival.  One got the sense that the monks were performing for the tourists who were free to walk the perimeter of the courtyard where the monks were debating, and where the monks performed a ritual maneuver characterized by thrusting their bodies forward and clapping exclamations of affirmation.  It gave a carnival appearance or maybe one that one would experience at the Zoo.  It did not sit well by me, I was expecting the Tibetan monks to transcend the world and the pressures of society and not to play up to a bunch of overweight clueless westerners fighting their way to photo every gasp and every movement of every monk so they could return home with evidence of their experience in a Tibetan monastery.  Whew!..  I also didn’t expect some of the monks to be so young, like children playing on a playground, but there were monks of all ages in our midst.  Maybe the “real” monks were out somewhere where no tourists were allowed - really acting like my image of how monks should act (am I presumptuous or what?).

The Yangtze River cruise was not worth wasting words describing.  The Yangtze itself was visibly dirty filled with surface debris and grunge, it made me wonder how long it would take for me to develop necrotizing fasciitis and die if the cruise ship sank and I had to swim to shore.   It was truly a disgusting looking cesspool, but it passed by some amazing sites that I stopped to experience.  The first was Fengdu, the ghost city with an interesting history that I hope you will read about. 

The highlight of the cruise, however, was the beautiful three river gorges and the Three River Gorges Dam.  I was gorged by the gorges as the ship delivered us to a smaller ship and that ship delivered us to yet another smaller ship so I could see every conceivable nook and cranny, every major and minor gorge they could fit into 4 hours.  It was amazing seeing a few of the hanging coffins (also something to read about) but I thought that as we approached them that they would open up with yet another Chinese vendor popping out of the cavity selling miniature coffins…..but that didn’t happen. 

The dam was so interesting I passed up leaving the ship to see this mass of concrete and the inevitable wow that results from the appreciation of its size and dimension as it overwhelmingly dwarfs its environment. Instead I needed to practice my dance steps for my next upcoming competition.  OK, now you can get the drift of things….the trip was coming to an end and my natural cynicism has been awakened fully.

Shanghai was the last city that we visited before my long trip home. It is big and beautiful and modern.  If Xi’an is yesterday, Beijing today, Shanghai is best described as tomorrow (that is from the vantage point of someone who comes from Shanghai).  Set by Huangpu River, the most capitalistic and most un-communist city of all of China, Shanghai’s most popular quote extols the virtues of being wealthy.  Mao Zedong is not a popular figure in Shanghai (they claim you will not find his picture plastered anywhere in Shanghai) for repressing and indeed stalling the focused capitalistic surge of economic prowess of the Chinese who seem naturally predisposed to work hard and make money, lots of it.  In this city of about 22 million people, nothing is described in denominations of less than a thousand and usually a hundred thousand or more.  Too many things to see, the two days there were inundated by rain, soaking my shoes and feet and dampening my spirit.  The time that we spent overlooking the city, walking along the river, shopping in the wonderful and colorful shopping area filled to the brim by bumping tourists, I was dodging apparent strangers who approached me to sell fake Rolex watches and the onslaught of colliding umbrellas, ready to pluck my eye out if I lost “focus” for a second.  Anyway, by Shanghai, I was too busy to appreciate any more of China, I was ready to go home, but I want to return someday to this wonderful city filled with history and adventure.  

My last note:  as to the future of the Chinese economy, I have no doubt about which country will win the race for economic supremacy.  China has all of the cards; so much of their money invested in the US, the balance of trade strongly favors the Chinese….33 million and growing to our 7.1 million and shrinking. The Chinese are smart (they claim that their middle school math skills exceed ours at the college level), they are hard working (not much room for an entitlement mentality in a country of 1.3 billion with a strong government that blinks out its punishments with an iron fist and uncontested authority and where citizens can be picked up by the police never to return home, and they have strong family values that are goal oriented where failure is not an option!.  And finally the country is filled with mostly Chinese as compared to so many countries like ours that are filled with mixtures of peoples and languages, each with their own set of mores and values (this is of course is good and bad, right?).  To be sure, as a surrogate for the progress in their economy, the Chinese are building so fast and so much around the country that they have recently designated themselves a new national bird, the construction crane. 

Finally , really finally, China was so expensive that I can’t afford to come back home so I got another job as a tour guide so I can fund my return back to Hawaii.  See you soon.