The Xi'antastic Four

"Say what you will about the tenants of national socialism, but at least its an ethos."

--Walter Sobcheck, on Nihilism.

My glorious perusal of China continues, with the historical city of Xi'an (shee-ann) being the latest in the roster of locales I have been able to explore.  Travel weary but hungry for more, I am now, once again, safely in my Southwest University dorm, able to write about my experiences.

While four days isn't exactly an all-encompassing look at a city of 8 million people, we did what we could to experience what Xi'an had to offer.  This included visiting the famous Terra Cotta warriors, walking along the (renovated) city walls, and enjoying the local markets.

For being one of the more famous things to see in China, the Terra Cotta soldiers were fairly anti-climactic.  Instead of being awed by the intense amount of work it would take to produce over 8,000 individual terra cotta warriors, I found myself disturbed at the fact that over 700,000 chinese laborers were forced to make such an elaborate tomb for one man.  But I suppose thats just Matt the pragmatist speaking; I'm sure Emperor Qin Shi Huang is quite safe in the afterlife with his army of clay soldiers guarding him.

We visited the city wall of Xi'an on a day when the weather was eerily similar to Seattle, so much so that at times I thought I was staring into an unfamiliar part of Ballard.  Then I realized I was on a 60-foot-high wall covered in Chinese characters and wooden trebuchets.  Nothing like ancient Chinese trebuchets to ruin a pleasant daydream about home.

The market of Xi'an seemed to be straight from an Anthony Bordain show on the Travel Channel.  Vendors lined the streets, preparing traditional Islamic and Chinese dishes for the endless throngs of tourists and Chinese residents alike.  One favorite snack of mine was a traditional Islamic snack of steamed rice pudding on a stick, covered in plum paste, ground peanuts, and sugar.  Delicious.

I have successfully managed to avoid any language barrier difficulties this trip, primarily by having a stronger knowledge of numbers and basic phrases.  I am still completely helpless in communicating anything beyond "I want that" and "How much is it?", but luckily thats about all one needs in a marketplace.  

A note to anyone traveling within China: don't buy illegal billy clubs and attempt to bring them on a flight.  One person in our group who will go unnamed attempted this and ended up in a 30-minute discussion with the police.  Somehow I doubt my two phrases of Chinese would have gotten me out of that fix.

In the next few weeks I will be taking a trip to Inner Mongolia to explore more of the Chinese countryside.  I really don't have the slightest idea of what there actually is in Inner Mongolia, but I'm told it's pretty cool, so, off I go.  Seriously, what else is there to do?  Oh, right.  Class.

I will be taking my Tai Chi final this Friday, which will mainly consist of me awkwardly trying to copy the moves of the people around me.  While I'm sure if you are an elderly Asian person, or are on an osteoporosis commercial, Tai Chi is very invigorating.  Unfortunately, I am neither of those, so I will be glad to be done with this portion of our education.  Luckily, we move onto cooking next week.  Finally, some practical education.

Zai Jian,

McG  

Abercrombif and Titch

Call me Bill Murray, because I'm a disenchanted American living aimlessly in an Asian country.  

Alright, so maybe I'm not middle-aged enough or melancholy enough to deserve my own Lost In Translation allusion, but the point remains.  As the days creep by here in Beibei, I am finding myself adjusting to life abroad more slowly than I would have liked.  The endearingly mistranslated phrases that are so plentiful in Beibei are loosing their comical sheen, and are now just venturing into annoying.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.  Lets look at a typical day in Beibei, China:  

I wake up at 7:50am to the sound of the Chinese National Anthem outside my window, which blares from loudspeakers to signify the start of the school day for the kindergarten behind our dorm.  NesCafe instant coffee mix clears the mental haze, sipped from a classy mug adorned with kittens; I was going for ironic humor.

Class passes quickly enough, and soon I am on the hunt for lunch.  Choices include Grandma's - a delicious restaurant the size of my old dorm room, run by the nicest old woman in the entire world - or for a change of pace, Dr. Dre's - a small lunch spot known for its wraps (Get it?  Raps...ha).   

The rest of our days usually includes a bus ride in Chongqing to explore the city, or simply a few episodes of Heroes or Entourage to pass the time.  Today, however, we were treated to a special field trip: a visit to Mexian, China's largest door manufacturer.  Be still my heart.

Steel doors, revolving doors, car doors, Hello Kitty doors; they had it all.  The one thing they didn't have, we quickly found, was anything interesting to tell us.  In fact, the most interesting part of the trip was when an oddly patriotic song started over the loudspeakers and all the employees gathered in the hallways for calisthenics.  The event wasn't entirely a waste though, as we got two important parting gifts: a deck of playing cards emblazoned with quasi-mysogonistic proverbs, and a visit to Mexian's bizarre (and arguably misguided) investment, "Foreign Land", an amusement park akin to Disneyland except much, much weirder.

In Mexian's defense, a Thursday morning was probably not the best choice for getting the true amusement park experience.  This inconvenient timing resulted in a park that was nearly desolate, save for a handful of bored employees.  The already awkward circumstances were only exacerbated by loading us, the only caucasians for miles around, onto a large yellow truck blaring Britney Spears music to tour the park.  Essentially, we became the attraction in the park; hey everyone, look at the white people!  Pictures were taken.  Fingers were pointed.  It was weird.

If I can draw any lines between the isolated dots of my China experience, it would be that Chinese businesspeople seem to lack the idea of maintenance.  A massive amount of capital had to be raised to build Foreign Land - it has the world's largest bathroom, for Pete's sake - and it must have taken a considerable amount of business savvy to garner that type of support.  Yet after walking around the park for a few minutes, it looks as though it was build over a decade ago.  Paint is peeling, metal is rusted - it is certainly not anywhere near the happiest place on earth.

I see this type of disrepair everywhere in China, from broken sidewalks to decrepit housing projects, yet they aren't solely victims of age and wear, but simply poor planning and maintenance.  Would an influx of city planners and proficient engineers

fix the problem?  Perhaps, and a change seems to be in sight.  Large glass-and-steel apartment complexes are slowly replacing the discolored cement of older buildings, and a more sophisticated engineering movement seems to be taking place.  But can a pleasing aesthetic make up for poorly thought-out sewer systems, and other basic infrastructure needs that just aren't being met?  

The more I see of Chinese cities, the more thankful I am of the largely cohesive city planning that I unknowingly enjoy in Seattle and Portland.  An under-appreciated field, to be sure.

And no, this is not simply a veiled show of support for Obama's previous profession.  Promise.

Zai Hui,

-McG

The Curious Case of Mr. Hope

The year is early 2000, and a young Matt McGrath is changing clothes in the Fowler Middle School locker room after an arduous gym class.  He pedantically takes stock of the contents of his locker: Vans skate shoes?  Check.  Zip-off pants/shorts?  Check.  Abercrombie shirt?  Check.  Recently-aquired, super-cool ying-yang necklace sure to attract the attention of that one girl in social studies that talked to me for a few seconds about X-Files last week?  

...no check.  Where is it.  No seriously, where is it??

A distraught Matt hopelessly searches the track for his super-cool necklace, to no avail.  It is lost forever to the evils of mandatory physical education.

***

The previous anecdote is, essentially, what ran through my mind last week as our Chinese Culture professor, Mr. Hope, explained the intricacies of the "ying and yang" belief held by much of the Chinese population.  Perhaps not exactly related to class material, but it was a compelling foray into my memories, nonetheless.

The idea of Ying and Yang, as I have found this past week, plays a much larger role in my life than I would have previously imagined (although like most quasi-religious philosophies, this depends largely on personal interpretation).  

Let us examine:

The past week has been a National Holiday in China, meaning that most of the country travels around, relaxes, and in general tries to ignore the fact that their government is going a little looney.  Following suit, our group flew two hours south to Hainan, the so-called "Hawaii of China", for a 3-day excursion of epic proportions.  Our travel guide promised days packed bursting with bus tours, walking tours of the local topography, and guided tours of coffee-factories.  Our group responded, somewhat understandably, with a delicately raised middle finger, instead choosing to spend our time lounging on the beach and frolicking the waves.

And oh, what fun it was.  But, as Mr. Song says, you cannot have Ying without Yang.  In this case, the Yang took the form of sunburns, sickness, and the extreme lack of protein in our diet (which was later remedied by a mutinous expedition to McDonalds; nothing like chicken nuggets and french fries to remind one of home).  

Regardless, the trip did give me my first experience of a tropical typhoon, which I think makes up for the drawbacks by itself. 

My glorious return from Hainan was dampered somewhat by the worrisome state of the U.S. economy.  I feel that the next few months are going to be very, very interesting...perhaps even generation-defining.  I'm not sure how I feel about being associated with a possible dust-bowl depression of our era.  

Oh wait, yes I do.  Dear God, please let the bailout work.

Regardless, its comforting to know that I was able to eat all my meals today for under $1.75USD.  

Perhaps the life of an ex-patriot wouldn't be so bad.  

Happy October,

-McG

P.S. -- Thank you for all your Happy Birthday emails and wall posts, they were much appreciated.  My actual birthday was as tame as they come, but filled with friends and food.  One couldn't ask for more.