Our flight to Xi'an was an early one but went smoothly. Well, one woman appeared to panic uncontrollably a few seats away and/or vomited over herself - I'm not exactly sure, but it involved several cabin crew, a change of seats and a number of tissues. Also, the in-flight snacks included squid slices, which filled the plane with an unbelievable stench. However, we were swift in disembarking and boarding the shuttle bus into town, that drove bumpily through what I felt was the real image of China I had in mind - dusty streets, crumbly towns and endless stretches of space into nowhere.
Our accommodation, the Bell Tower Inernational Youth Hostel, was superbly located, being it next to Xi'an's main post office, overlooking the Bell Tower itself, which was located conveniently at the city's main roundabout, allowing for easy navigation in the direction of all four main compass points. The hostel itself was a wonderful place to stay, with friendly staff, helpful tour arrangements, good social areas, a bar serving great food and drink and comfortable rooms (again, we opted for a twin private room with marginal price difference, which was actually part of a hotel the hostel was seemingly attached to - not 100% certain of the arrangement). Plus, free hour of internet and a free beer every night! The next step was to secure our journey back to Beijing, so we headed to the train ticket booth where recognising that there was a queue in place wasn't on anyone else's agenda but ours. Eventually, we did manage to get a place on board, but unfortunatle we would have to endure a hard seater overnight. Little did we know just how traumatic it would be.
As it was Baptiste's birthday, I bought him lunch at the Hong Kong Restaurant, a vast and virtually empty mega-diner, which also served a peculiar purple drink that tasted exactly like ice-cream wafers. As they were close by, we opted to visit the Bell and Drum Towers central to the local area. As you can imagine, both had a lot of bells and drums respectively, and we were lucky enough to watch a group of musicians rehearse inside. We got to see a more polished display of musical ability at the Drum Tower, with a bunch of young drum-diddlers in bright costume banging away in unison. From both towers, I had a good vantage point of the city's taxis, all a wonderful green colour (the buses were similarly eye-catching, in various hues). It was then just a trip across from the tower to Huifang, the Muslim quarters of Xi'an, with a wonderful tent-roofed market stocked with all kinds of dried fruits, nuts and souvenirs. Even more tantalising was the packed main street with wonderful eateries on either side, with the staff grilling yummy kebabs and cooking spicy bread.
We turned into a covered alleyway that had a such a Middle Eastern atmosphere it made it hard to believe we were still in China. The little shops were selling all kinds of Maochandise, a spin-off of Che-Shirts; basically souvenirs with Chairman Mao's face adorning them, from little alarm clocks with his hand's waving as it ticked to Mao-sacks and Mao-caps. As Xi'an was the start of the original Silk Road, the city is home to a wonderful mix of Chinese and Islamic culture, best represented at the Great Mosque, a fully-operational and beautifully designed prayer complex. The mix of Chinese architecture and Arabic influences was spellbinding, and so SOAS. It was an incredibly peaceful place, home to many birds gently singing masking the sound of traffic from afar. Plus, there was a friendly man at the main gate who knew a surprising amount of English and French expressions.On our way back to the hostel, the park area between the two towers had filled up with amateur telescopes observing the moon (no doubt because the Chinese New Year based around the lunar calendar), and a very strange one wheel velocipede much like Mr. Garrison's 'IT' from South Park, just without the filthy control mechanism. As it was Baptiste's birthday, the hostel cooked him up a free pizza and we cashed in our free beer tickets. But the beer in question, Tsingtao's very drinkable Hans Beer (with a wolf on the bottle) cost a measly 5 RMB (about 35p) for 500ml, so it didn't break the bank to get drunk in a celebratory fashion. Coincidentally, it turned out to be another hostel guest's birthday that day, a Scotsman by the name of Hamish! So we sat down together, drinking beers, eating pizza and watching Raiders of the Lost Ark. It was exactly the kind of atmosphere you want from a hostel, but rarely get, as we chatted with Adrian and Dominik from Germany, Sylvine from Holland, and a guy who lived in Weston-Super-Mare. We drank into the next day as fireworks went off from the square outside, before calling it a night to allow sufficient sleep in preparation for our tour the next day.
POUR UN PETIT TOUR
As our tour group had swelled from four to eight, we got it cheaper than what we'd originally paid - good news for the student traveller. Our fellow companions were five Swedish guys (who mostly spoke little English and sported a 'couldn't care' attitude and a general lack of interest, making us wonder why they even came in the first place) and Steven from the UK. Our guide was Emily, a young local girl with passable, if far from exceptional, English, who talked almost non-stop throughout the whole day. Mr. Liang was our driver, and we squeezed into his little minibus, the interior of which was decorated with magazine cuttings of local sights, cars and supermodels. As we exited the city gates, it was clear only Baptiste and myself were offering any sign of interest in Emily's historical spiel, but it was not long before we were at out first destination - surprise, surprise, another Friendness Store.
This time silk was on the agenda, what with Xi'an being start of the Silk Road and all. Sure enough, the display cases, specimens and production techniques, all impressive and interesting, soon gave way to talk of washing instructions, choice of styles and special New Year offers. For some reason, I was seen as the prime target (I guess because I tried to be nice and charming while the others scarpered), but as much as I would like to feel nourished like an Emperor with a sleey silk duvet set, pricing, backpack space and common sense dictated that it was not at the top of my 'must-have' list then and there. Back on the bus then to Banpo Village, the remains of a 6000 year old settlement. It was only the very basic outlines of building foundations, but there were impressive pre-JCB ditches and fascinating information on the burial rituals. However, judgng buy the desire to move on, I was clearly the only history student there.
Back on the bus to a factory that manufactured imitation terracotta warriors of all sizes, but imperfect shapes - it seemed like they hadn't gotten arm lengths or hand quite right. Again, no purchases, but I couldn't really understand why we were there in the first place - on the previous tour, we were all staying at hotels, with the others with a family at home; here they were selling to backpackers with tight budgets, luggage restrictions and time schedules. As we departed, Emily asked us if we wanted to eat lunch. I thought that was a rather strange question as we obviously needed to eat some time, but then the grumpy Swedes emitted a resounding "No!", so we were a little hesitant to drag out their day any further. But when it came to crunch time, they said they'd be okay to wait, so we stopped off anyway, at another silk store with an adjacent restaurant and an imitation Egyptian pyramid next door.
Lunch was much the same as the previous tour, except with regional dishes involving spicy noodles and an egg/tomato mix. The driver was a little miffed that it was just going to be me, Baptiste, Steven and one of the Swedes (who actually turned out to be from Norway originally, didn't really know the others and agreed they were being rather arsey - he also was into retro gaming). Part of the deal was that we go on another silk tour, and Emily advised us to pretend that it was all knew to us, so while a different tour guide took us through all the procedures, we feigned surprise throughout. Our host asked us questions, and we played dumb about the answers, but I was a little unsettled the way she kept on referring to us as "my friend". When it came to the inevitable purchase round, she was more desperate for a sale and looked genuinely crestfallen when we wrenched ourselves free.
Finally, it was time for the main event, the Terracotta Army of Qin Shi Haungdi. I had studied the First Qin Emperor in my Introduction to the History of East Asia course at SOAS, writing an essay and answering an examination question about him. You may know him from The First Emperor docu-drama Channel 4 showed a little while ago, or, more likely, from Zhang Yimou's Hero. So I had been looking forward to seeing the warriors for myself. We drove along some incredibly rough roads through rubble-riddent villages to get there, but once we arrived, I was surprised at the size of the surrounding complex. It was a little like a theme-park, with stalls, fountains, a horse-drawn carriage for the punters, and a lot of bad English (one sign for an upcoming redevelopment used the word 'smelody', but I can't recall what it was referring to). After ticket purchase and an X-ray scan, we were allowed entry to Pit #1, a vast aircraft hangar-esque building covering the main site, filled with rows of statues. Unfortunately, it becomes clear that my guide book was perhaps a little out of date. I had deliberately left my camera behind as it stated photography was prohibited at the site, but it turned out photography was okay, which explains why there are no photos of the statues on my Flickr account. Bum. The only camera restrictions were no flash or tripods, but the crowds were flaunting such rules with little care. In fact, working as a security guard there must be a real tough gig - one guy had to deal with someone dropping a bottle of water from above, and then a kid running out through the barrier towards the dig site. Though it made me think how some 2200 years later, we have security guards guarding clay guards made instead of real guards guarding the Emperor's tomb.
With the first pit done, we went to the Circle Vision building for a 360 degree short film about the history of the Terracotta Army, the self-proclaimed Eight Wonder of the World (I thought that was King Kong?). The film was made in the late 80's but the quality of the film had clearly been worn by repeated screenings. However, it was good fun, with lots of staged battles, rituals and construction scenes. Next were the bronze horse and carriage statues, then Pit #2, which was far more interesting than the massive first pit. The lighting was darker (if that makes sense), and many of the figures were broken or had fallen to pieces, creating an eerie battlefield aftermath vibe, with hands sans weapons looking as if they were stretching out to grasp for help, and decapitated hands and dismembered limbs lying around. There was a small platform jutting out over the pit which also gave a great feeling of power and command when you stood on it...absolute POWER! Pit #3 was smaller but very well-preserved, but it's undeniable there are far more treasures to be uncovered in the area - just as long as no tourists are about. As expected, I was the last one to leave each area, but I would have liked to have stayed longer.
Our tour came to an end and we got back to the hostel absolutely knackered. As we zoned out in front of our hotel telly, we caught a very disturbing cartoon on CCTV's Kids channel - it depicted two (possibly orphaned) children during the Pacific War evading capture and outsmarting Japanese troops, featuring two bumbling idiots and an evil fat general with a Hitler 'tash. Considering how touchy Sino-Japanese relations are at the moment, and how the Chinese lay much of the blame on the Japanese, I couldn't believe that such a progamme was on. Not only was the animation terrible, but this was being screened to children at prime-time - what kind of lesson does that teach the kiddywinks? The soldiers even had the modern Japanese flag everywhere, not the Imperial Japanese one. It was as if there were a French cartoon made today depicting Nazi soldiers with German flags instead of swastikas - and even then, it's not like there are the problems involving European relations and dealing with the past as there are here in East Asia. Unbelievable.
After we'd recovered, we went back to the Muslim district for some of the food we'd spied the previous day. Although we went somewhere that advertised an English menu, it didn't synch up with the stuff cooking outside, so Baptiste resorted to pointing at what we wanted. While we weren't brought quite as much as we were expecting, it was cheap and delicious. The skewers were hot, the bread was spicy and the beer was spot-on. We then headed back to the hostel for more beers and chit-chat with the guests from the previous night, including a couple of games of Shithead and a Darts game of Cricket (which I was surprisingly good at, as it didn't require aiming for the triple 20 every time). I then stayed up chatting to Hamish about his proposed visit to Turkmenistan and how now that the president had died in December, it was not going to be as mad a place as it used to be - stories of National Melon Day, the banning of lip-synching, gold statues that rotate in alignment with the Sun...utterly insane.
THE WALLS ARE CLOSING IN
Our final day in Xi'an was spent walking along the top of the city wall. After a jumbo breakfast special care of the hostel (2 slices of toast, butter, jam, 2 sausages, 2 rashers of bacon, tomato, mushrooms, baked beans - all spanning 2 plates) while watching the end of The Matrix Revolutions, we were ready to set off for the South gate. A little narked at the 40 yuan entry fee, we coughed up nonetheless, as it was a beautiful sunshiney day, perfect for a walk. At the start of the trail, there were a number of gaudy New Year displays, including some bizarre models of insects and then dalmatians, so I envisaged a Starship Troopers-esque conflict between the two sets of creatures up the side of the wall. The further we walked, the displays and fun-fair stalls disappeared, and we were left with stretches of wide paths going on for kilometres.
It was a lovely afternoon, and with it being holiday season many people were gathered in the parks at the foot of the wall, doing their own thing, be it kite-flying, letting off firecrackers, playing mahjong or outdoor snooker, or just having a sit-down. It took us about 3 hours to go all the way around to the North gate, going past Xi'an station, which was packed to the rafters, as well as yet another billboard of our favourite bald man, a comedian called something like Bi Lao, who advertises for China Mobile and some yoghurt food, and was a familar face wherever we travelled. His omnipresence even extended to a Madame Tussaud's waxwork in Nanjing Road in Shanghai. And here he was again in Xi'an with his patented cheeky grin and thumbs-up. We got back to the hostel to pick up our bags, say our goodbyes, leave a message on the wall (as was encouraged) and get a load of spaghetti bolognaise before our departure.
Xi'an station was far more hectic than Beijing as it was now well into the holiday season, and people would be returning back to the big cities. We found a couple of seats in the waiting room, but there was clearly a lot of frustrated people around, with one heated argument between a couple of queuers turning many heads. Eventually, it was time to board, and we found our Hard Seater seats occupied by a couple, but there were equivalent seats in the same space which we took instead. While the Hard Seater seat was alright, the problem was the other people. The train had come in from Lasa in Tibet, so everyone had either gotten to or already knew each other. They were all eating rather foul smelling hot noodles, pickled onions and hard boiled eggs, or nibbling on seeds and peanuts, the remnants of which would be spat on the floor (or on me), only to be cleaned by a member of staff applying a wet mop to the carpet. They were also pretty loud, and sang along to songs on their radio until about 2am. I tried to get to sleep by putting on my cap, doing my coat up over my face, but with leg-room nonexistent and reclining not an option, it proved tricky. And once I gotten some shut-eye, I was woken up when the smelly Tibetan woman who had sat next to me at various points complained to a train official that I was in her seat, not that it had bothered her before. Turns out another person had the same seat number on their (clearly forged) ticket as me, and after a wait to see if I'd be ejected off the train, the official came back to settle the dispute. Not sure what he said in Chinese, but I guess it was along the lines of, "This foreigner won't understand and I don't care enough to try and tell him - so forget it". At least then I could get an hour or two of sleep...
Coming Next: Back to Beijing! Derby! Go-Karts! Visa Problems! Huzzah!
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