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Bryan Stumpf's China Journal |
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Ascending
Yellow Mountain Our whole Yellow Mountain trip was exactly one week, right
down to the very hour. We departed Shanghai at around 10am on Sunday, July
11th, and returned to Shanghai around around 10am on Sunday, July 18th. Before
arriving in Yellow Mountain, however, we would have a long “lay-over” in the
small city of Hefei. Luckily, Yaping and I happened upon a fortunate turn of events that made traveling to Yellow Mountain very inexpensive. In the first week of July, Yaping got a call from her sister, Yajuan, who lives in Hefei. Hefei is the capital of the Anhui province, which is the province just west of Shanghai. Anhui is also the home of Yellow Mountain. In the second weekend of July, Yajuan would be joining some co-workers on a business trip to Shanghai. One of the drivers from Yajuan’s work would drive them to Shanghai and back. Yajuan worked it out so that Yaping and I could ride along on the way back to Hefei. Then, after spending a day or two at Yajuan’s house in Hefei, we could catch a ride with a driver who was planning to go to Yellow Mountain – about a 5-hour drive south of Hefei. All of these traveling arrangements would be practically cost free. In the days preceding our trip to Hefei, Yaping and I wanted to meet Yajuan for dinner while she was in Shanghai. We planned to meet in Xujiahui at 5pm, but her driver got lost in Shanghai, and they didn’t arrive until 9pm – four hours late. And this was going to be the same guy that would drive us to Hefei! I expressed to Yaping my concern about the driver’s navigational skills, but she explained that getting lost for hours in Shanghai is quite common. It’s almost to be expected. She pointed out, for example, that if a vehicle does not have a Shanghai license plate, there are several streets where that vehicle would not be allowed to drive.
And so, on Sunday, July 11th, Yaping and I rode to Hefei. The most exciting part of the drive was my first glimpse of the Yangtze River. It wasn’t the most flattering arm of the river. The water was brown, the color of chocolate milk. And we took the ferry near the industrial city of Nanjing, so there were mostly barges and cargo boats cruising the water. That night, we arrived at Yajuan’s house. I met Yajuan’s husband Li Yongyao, and their 13-year-old son, Tai Lai. They were very welcoming and hospitable with me, but we may have gotten off to a bad start when I almost blinded Yajuan. I noticed there was a dartboard near Tai Lai’s room. As a kind of ice-breaker, I asked Tai Lai if he wanted to play darts. His English was good; he was able to say that he had lost all the darts, but “he had a better idea.” He went into his room and came out with a bow and arrows; yet the arrows were just little plastic rods – with no real point at the end. He showed me how to shoot the arrow, and then invited me to try. Although my aim was true, the plastic arrow ricocheted off the bulls-eye and went right for Yajuan. I apologized profusely. Tai Lai encouraged me to try again. On the second try, again, the arrow nearly poked Yajuan right in the eye. It was time to give up – I wished them all a “good night” and sequestered myself in the guest bedroom. By the time I woke up the next morning, Yajuan and Li Yongyao had already left for work and Tai Lai had gone to military training. Yaping explained that it is very common for Chinese children to take military training, just like it’s common for them to enroll in classes in calligraphy or some form of musical training. In some communities in China, military training is compulsory – but it’s always open for both boys and girls. After breakfast on Monday morning, we set off to check out Hefei. First, Yaping had to send some work to Jiao Tong via e-mail. We visited Li Yongyao’s nearby office to use his computer, but Yaping ended up having e-mail problems. We’d try again later at an Internet café. Outside of Li Yongyao’s office, we saw one of Hefei’s few tourist attractions – a house once owned by an important Chinese historical figure named Lord Bao. It didn’t seem worth the price of admission, so we walked in a nearby park instead. As we walked, Yaping told me about Lord Boa. He was an official during the Song Dynasty (960-1279 AD). He was known through the ages as being non-corrupt. It seems every dynasty in China fell because of corruption. Corruption seems to have been one of the main legacies in Chinese dynasties. But Lord Boa was catapulted to the higher echelons of Chinese history simply due to the fact that he wasn’t corruptible. For most of the day, we just walked the streets of Hefei. At around mid-afternoon, we finally found an Internet café, yet none of the computers were compatible with Yaping’s software. While there, a few teenage Internet-users spotted me and turned their web-cam toward me - they wanted to prove to somebody on-line that a foreigner had just walked into their midst. Throughout my days in Hefei, I realized that there were a lot fewer foreigners in this city than in Shanghai. Therefore, I was receiving a lot more stares and, in a few situations, I was coerced into having an English conversation. We would soon find out that word spread around town that there was an American foreigner staying at Yujuan’s house. After the Internet café, we returned to Yujuan’s place and found out that a Chinese family had scheduled an appointment to have a conversation with me. In Hefei, talking to an actual native speaker of English is a rare opportunity. The family asked that their 15-year-old daughter have 30 minutes of the foreigner’s time for conversation. So on Monday evening, the 15-year-old and her parents arrived at Yujuan’s house. It was an awkward situation – I was basically being commissioned to chit-chat. I felt a need to make the conversation worthwhile. I was hoping the daughter would initiate the talk, but she was too shy. So I started off with questions like, “What are your favorite hobbies?” and “What are your favorite subjects in school?” Obviously, it didn’t turn into a worthwhile conversation, but after the 30 minutes were up, the parents thanked me profusely. Later Monday night, we found out that our Yellow Mountain driver couldn’t leave until Wednesday - we would have to spend one extra day in Hefei. I didn’t mind being in Hefei longer - though this meant we’d have one less day at Yellow Mountain. To make the most of our remaining days in Hefei, Yaping and I visited some of her old stomping grounds. On Tuesday morning, Yaping showed me the school where she worked after graduating Anhui University. She says things are different now in China, but it used to be that you never applied for jobs - they were assigned to you. Though Yaping had trained to be an English teacher, the place she was assigned to, Hefei Polytechnic University, didn’t want any more female English teachers - so they assigned her a job in the library. As you can imagine, she soon started looking for a way out of this position. So after a couple of years at Hefei Polytechnic, she was accepted at Jiao Tong as a graduate student. We also visited one of Yaping’s old college friends. On Tuesday afternoon, Yaping and I stopped by the house of her friend, Wang Si Xin. While at Wang Si Xin’s place, Yaping was finally able to send out her Jiao Tong work. While Yaping and Wang Si Xin reminisced about the good ol’ days, I reflected on the differences I had noticed in these last few days between the Chinese and Americans in greeting friends and family. For one thing, Chinese people rarely hug. Yaping had already told me this during our Beijing trip, but I didn’t really notice until this trip to Hefei. In all of Yaping’s meetings and greetings, there was no hugs, arms around shoulders, not even a handshake. Yaping greeted her sister, whom she had not seen in more than a year, with nothing more than a smile and “hello.” However, when I walk around Shanghai, I often see girls, when walking in pairs, holding hands. And I also see men, when walking in pairs, with arms around each other’s shoulders. When I point this out to Yaping, she says this is common among friends. So even though there’s no hugging in China, the physical behavior among Chinese friends would probably seem too affectionate among American friends. After visiting with Wang Si Xin for a few hours, we went to a Korean BBQ, accompanied by Wang Si Xin’s 12-year-old daughter Sherry. I actually loved the Korean BBQ – not only do they cook the food right at your table, but the food is cooked on a skillet. Chinese food is rarely prepared on a skillet - all the food seems to come from a wok, boiling water, or the deep fryer. So skillet-prepared food was a nice departure from the usual Chinese fare. After our lunch, we said good-bye with Wang Si Xin and her daughter, and then spent the rest of the afternoon walking on the campus of Anhui University - where Yaping was an undergraduate. That afternoon, we were also supposed to go to where Yaping’s sister worked at the Anhui Sports College - we had an appointment to be tested by a “bone density machine.” Yaping thought I would be really interested in the bone density machine. This machine would tell me how much my bones weigh and “check out my organs.” Yaping seemed really eager, but I just didn’t like the sound of it. I just didn’t feel like subjecting myself to any unnecessary medical procedures while in China. So we cancelled our appointment with the machine. After Anhui University, we went back to Yajuan’s so that I could get ready for playing tennis. That evening I was scheduled to play with Li Yongyao. This was actually a bit intimidating since he had a reputation for being one of the best tennis players in the Anhui Province. The Governor of Anhui, and two of the Vice-Prime Ministers of China often came to Hefei just to play tennis with him. Li Yongyao and I mostly just volleyed the ball back and forth. With Yaping, Yajuan, and Tai Lai watching, I just focused on not making a fool of myself. Li Yongyao was kind enough not to pummel me with his serves and returns. After playing for a few hours, we went to dinner. Li Yongyao was a little too insistent that I drink beer with him. And Yajuan tried to encourage Tai Lai to have an English conversation with me. I was starting to feel like part of Yaping’s family. After the dinner, Yajuan, Yaping, and I had a nice nighttime stroll. By the time we reached the house at 10pm, I was exhausted. I went to bed and was asleep within minutes. Not much happened on Wednesday. Yaping and I tried to go swimming in the local pool, but we didn’t have shower caps, so they kicked us out – but not before I walked to the edge of the pool in my swim trunks, causing everyone in the crowded pool to gape at the foreigner in the Speedos. I mostly spent Wednesday reading and napping. That night,
Yajuan, Tai Lai, Yaping, Wang Si Xin, Sherry, and I all met up for one last
dinner in Hefei. Afterwards, we bid a fond farewell to Hefei and I headed to
bed. Yellow Mountain Day 4 And so on Thursday morning, with our long lay-over in Hefei finally over, it was time to head to our final destination, Yellow Mountain. As we walked to our rendezvous with our driver, Yaping announced that we would be joined by two teenage couples. I didn’t mind the extra company, just as long as I could sit in the front passenger seat. Not far from Lord Bao’s House, we met up with driver (not the same one who got lost in Shanghai) and the four teens – one girl was the driver’s daughter. We greeted each other, then boarded the mini-van, and headed due south. About 50 miles into the trip, one of the teens vomited in the mini-van. He was too shy to say that he was prone to car-sickness. Had I known, I would have let him sit in the front passenger seat. After we stopped to clean up the mess, I offered the front seat, but he refused. So he stayed in the back seat, with his head down between his knees, for the rest of the ride. We saw a lot of farmland on our ride to Yellow Mountain. We got to glimpse some rice being harvested - apparently, the second half of July is typical harvest time for rice. The countryside was much more lush than the dry countryside of Xi’an. And in this greener locale, we saw a lot more farmers out in the fields and walking along the road. We saw several farmers transporting materials by balancing bamboo sticks. Many cultures have a particular way of lugging around their belongings. In Africa, the way to carry any manner of object is by perching it atop your head. In China, the most common method for transporting materials is binding the materials to the two ends of a 5 foot long bamboo pole. First, you make sure both ends are equal in weight, and then you balance the center of the pole on your shoulder. Many farmers were crouched over from carrying large quantities of material in this manner. For lunch, we stopped at a restaurant in a very small countryside town. It was here I discovered a whole new level of staring. In Shanghai, Chinese passers-by would glance at me, but the glances were usually brief. In Hefei, I received long, lingering glances. But in this small town, I received long, lingering stares. While the others were still eating lunch, I thought it’d be nice to stroll the streets a bit before getting back into the mini-van. As I walked by the businesses along the sidewalk, it was almost as if I were a parade passing through town. People stood at the entrance of the businesses to watch me walk by. And people stopped in the middle of the sidewalk just to stare. They even nudged those who hadn’t noticed me yet to join in the gawking. At first, I was irritated by all the staring. But I realized that no one meant any harm. The stares were not hostile – the people were simply curious. A foreigner walking down their street was a very rare occurrence. I’m sure they would have said, “Welcome,” if they knew the words. Once the others finished lunch, we hopped back into the mini-van and continued our journey. As we got closer to Yellow Mountain, the landscape was becoming more mountainous, verdant and mystical. The feathery tips of the bamboo trees gave the mountainsides a distinct texture. All the while, our driver pointed out various locations where “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” was filmed. By mid-afternoon, we arrived in Tun Xi, a city nestled in the foothills of Yellow Mountain. We checked into our hotel, rested for a moment, and then we set off to attend a dinner banquet at a Tun Xi restaurant. One thing I’ve discovered while in China – it’s considered a great honor to have a foreigner in your restaurant, and an even greater honor to sit next to him. Twenty people were present at Tun Xi banquet, and the coordinator of the banquet sat right next to me. Also, the owner of the restaurant came over to our table just to greet me. It seemed that just being a foreigner will make you the honorary guest at any Chinese banquet. And when you’re foreigner at a Chinese banquet, everything you do is of great interest. As usual at these kinds of gatherings, many people marveled at my proficiency with chopsticks. And when I chose Sprite as my drink, the coordinator of the banquet ordered many bottles of a clear,150 proof liquor called Yin Jia Zao Fang. Usually beer is ordered, but I guess he wanted to get an alcoholic beverage that resembled Sprite. And as usual at these banquets, toasting practically becomes a sport. There is the initial group toast, and then individuals will reach across the table to do a personal toast with various people. Practically every person at the banquet wanted to do a personal toast with the foreigner guest. As a matter of survival, I resorted to putting Sprite in my shotglass. It wasn’t long before my ruse was discovered. One of my toastees noticed my liquor was fizzing. But my gracious hosts didn’t scold me for doing this. In fact, they thought me quite clever for pulling the stunt. As the banquet wore on, the air became thick with cigarette smoke. I always see cigarettes offered and distributed during meals and business transactions. In China, this offering of cigarettes is called Tobacco Diplomacy – its often intended to open discussion, to show generosity, or to curry favor. But what was surprising was that many of the smokers were athletes or teachers from the local sports college. In order to avoid suffocating, Yaping and I left the banquet soon after the last dish was served. We were asleep by 10pm - we had a big day tomorrow on Yellow Mountain.
On Friday, Yaping and I went on a one-day package tour of Yellow Mountain. At 5:30am, a bus came by the hotel to pick us up. With our tour group of 25 people, including the four teens from Hefei, we arrived at the entrance of Yellow Mountain by 7am. Ascending Yellow Mountain was actually quite easy – there's a cable car that carries you all the way to the top. Sure, there were also trails you could take to the top, but the cable car was part of your admission price. The ride to the top was fascinating - mostly because of the views, but also because of the seemingly precarious cable car. The poles holding the cables were built into the side of a very steep slope. So not only did you wonder whether a steep slope would be adequate foundation for these poles, but also, if the cable were to break, your car wouldn’t just plummet, it would go rolling and rolling down this slope, all the way to the rocky bottom. Once at the summit, there was a noticeable temperature drop. We were surrounded by clouds and many of the peaks were not visible. But some peaks were visible and they rose up among clouds like islands in the sea. Some peaks seemed to be permanently concealed by clouds. If you were lucky, every once in a while there was a break in the clouds and you could catch a glimpse of a peak that is usually obscured. For certain peaks, this was quite rare – comparable to staring out into the ocean and waiting for a whale to surface. If a hidden peak was ever revealed, you could hear lots of “oohs” and “ahhs” and the sound of dozens of camera’s clicking. One thing about Yellow Mountain – it’s not really cone-shaped like most mountains, it’s actually more of a series of peaks. There’s 72 peaks altogether. So for our five hours at the top of Yellow Mountain, we mostly just visited a few of the accessible peaks. The views were incredible – ragged cliffs with steep walls of granite, jutting up from deep mist-covered valleys. On several craggy peaks, there were gnarled pines and boulder fields. Some peaks looked almost polished – as smooth-surfaced as a sand beach. And there were boulders the size of houses – to reach one peak you had to squeeze between two such boulders, and the passageway was only a foot wide in some places. The ingenuity of some of the manmade bridges and stairways was impressive. For the most part, the stairs and bridges blended well with the surrounding stone - but I was often mystified by how anyone could construct such formations from such great heights. One concrete stairway looked unnaturally glued to the side of cliff. Like Yandang Mountain, the tour guide sometimes pointed out how certain natural rock formations resembled something, usually Buddha either sitting, praying, or reclining. But thankfully, the guide didn’t do this quite as often as the guide on our Yandang Mountain tour. For the most part, the Yellow Mountain tour guide allowed the peaks to speak for themselves. Yellow Mountain had more of what I expected from Chinese mountains – a presence of both power and grace. As we walked to the various lookout points, the cool mountain air felt great whipping through my hair and clothes. In this clean environment, I often stopped to take in deep breaths of fresh mountain air. I would fill my lungs to maximum capacity and hold it – it was a great feeling after living in Shanghai for four months. In the distance, I sometimes heard the rumble of thunder. We never saw any lighting, but there were a few thundershowers along the way. Luckily, we bought rain ponchos at the base of the mountain – we discovered the prices for ponchos increased along with the elevation. It was amazing to me that this area didn’t even open to tourists until 1980. But in the past few years, tourists have been flocking here in record numbers – mostly due to the popularity of “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.” Yaping and I wanted to descend Yellow Mountain via the Eastern Steps instead of taking the cable-car. The four teens actually wanted to join us. But we had to leave the tour group early so that we’d arrive at the bottom at around the same time as the cable-car riders. The views along the Eastern Steps were stunning. The sun was slightly waning toward the west. From the angle of our descent, we saw the snow-topped mountains ablaze from reflecting the sun. Descending Yellow Mountain was definitely not as easy as our ascent. The footing wasn’t difficult - it was the huge number of steps we had to take. There were at least 1,000 steps. Amazingly, we saw men ascending the steps, carrying supplies to the mountain top chateau. All were using balancing bamboo sticks. It must take them the whole day to just make one trip up. Sedan chairs were available for 100 yuan ($12 American). Two men could walk you down the mountain – each man at the end of two parallel poles while you rode in the chair at the center of the poles. We saw one girl being carried down and she looked a little embarrassed. Yaping and I actually had a hard time keeping up with the high school kids. While they bounded down the mountain, we were always stopping to take pictures. Surprisingly, we all made it to the bottom of Yellow Mountain well before the arrival of the cable-car riders. Our legs were a little shaky and sore, but we had at least a half an hour to rest before the rest of our group showed up. Once the cable-car riders arrived, we boarded our bus and headed back to Tun Xi. But before ending the tour, the tour guide wanted to take us to a massage place and a teahouse. This sounded great to me, but Yaping seemed suspicious - I soon found out why. When we arrived at the massage place, we were all funneled into what looked like a classroom with desks and chairs. I asked Yaping, “Where are the massage beds?” She explained, “First, they want to give us a lecture.” I thought to myself, “A lecture on what?” Then, the lecturer walked around with a snake in a small cage - she announced that this kind of snake was the most venomous snake in the world. I had to ask Yaping, “What does the snake have to do with our massages? And when are we getting to the massages, anyways?” It turned out that we were basically trapped in an infomercial for Chinese traditional medicine. The lecturer was a salesperson advertising the merits of a certain kind of healing tonic. And we were her captive audience. This particular tonic was produced by soaking certain snake organs in brine. After her lecture was over, she announced that the massages would begin. Her helpers walked into the room, each carrying a bottle of healing tonic. The massage was nothing more than getting snake lotion rubbed on your leg. I felt cheated. But actually, this is quite common with Chinese package tours. As part of the tour, you’ll be taken to a place where someone shows you a particular product, and then you’re expected to buy that product. I wonder if this is how they acquire audiences for infomercials in America? After the “massages,” the teahouse was the same situation. However, I found it fascinating how Chinese were so riveted by the tea infomercial. A tea hostess presented us with various kinds of green tea. The Chinese studied the tea leaves, they breathed in the tea as it brewed, and they “oohed” and “ahhed” as they sampled the various teas. When it comes to tasting green tea, my palate is not quite so sophisticated - I detected very little difference from the various samples. Some Chinese frown upon British and American tea, claiming it’s not real tea if the tea leaves are trapped in a tea bag. But when you drink Chinese tea, with its free floating tea leaves, there’s always the problem of sipping down the leaves along with the tea. Our tea hostess showed us how to blow the leaves out of the way before you sip. And if you accidentally sip a tea leaf, it’s acceptable to just spit the leaf onto the dinner table. Then, our hostess showed us “the correct way to drink tea.” Basically, she instructed us to make as much slurping noise as possible when sipping tea. Having dined with Chinese people on several occasions, I’ve found that many people already know this method for drinking tea. All in all, this experience only reiterated the fact that green tea is a very important part of everyday life for the Chinese. In fact, I see many people carrying bottles of tea with them throughout the day, much like they’d carry a wallet or a purse. As for me, being immersed in green tea culture has made me into a dedicated coffee drinker. After our teahouse infomercial, our Yellow Mountain tour was finally over. We met up with our driver, and then drove to a dinner date with another one of Yaping’s college friends. Yaping hadn’t seen this friend in 13 years. The restaurant was on the floor above a jade museum. Yaping’s friend, Jiang Xue Ping, and her daughter, Zhang Ze Ya, were already there waiting for us. Jiang Xue Ping was actually a travel agent in the Yellow Mountain area. She was the one who had arranged the hotel accommodations and the package tour for us. As for our accommodations after dinner, she had booked us rooms at a villa in an ancient Chinese village 200 km west of Yellow Mountain. So after dinner, we drove two hours to our arranged accommodations. It was already nighttime and along the way and we frequently saw lightning flashing across the night sky. There were flashes of purple and flashes of yellow. Also along the way, we saw a roadside theatre production of Beijing Opera. We stopped to take a look. It was a really surprising sight. Along this old country road, far from any dense population, with only a small audience of peasants looking weary from fieldwork, there was this incredibly elaborate theatre production. The costumes were ornate, the production design was sophisticated, the make-up was detailed, and the acting was professional and well choreographed. After the brief stop for the opera, we drove on to our accommodations in the village of Hong Cun. Once we arrived at the entrance of the village, a young man with a lantern came out what looked like a gatekeeper’s lodge and led us to our villa. We walked through lots of unlit alleyways; it was so dark I had to make sure I didn’t lose sight of the person in front of me. Making the walk more perilous, we were told that there was a deep gutter all along the right edge of the walkway. Finally, we reached our villa. Though we were told the villa was over 800 years old – built in the Song Dynasty, like all the buildings in the village - we were surprised by all the modern conveniences: electric lighting, working plumbing, a TV, a shower – the works. We were shown to our rooms, then, the gatekeeper bid us good night and closed the big wooden doors to our villa. Before going to bed, Yaping and I went outside to look at the stars. They were the brightest stars I had ever seen in China. I could see several constellations and pointed them out to Yaping.
When I awoke the next morning, it was like waking up on a camping trip - opening the big wooden door was like unzipping the tent flap. I walked outside and discovered that right outside our little villa was a bamboo forest. Morning sunbeams were breaking through the bamboo canopy. There were little stone stools and tables scattered among the trees. I just sat at one table and contentedly gazed into the forest for a while. My legs were sore from yesterday’s descent - while sitting on the stone stool, I tried to rub the soreness away. The forest was situated on a hill, and from where I sat, I had a good view of the village. The village really did look ancient, but it was well preserved. All I saw the night before were dark, empty streets; but now, in the early morning hours, a few people were milling about the streets. They were getting ready for the crowds – Hong Cun was not just a village, it was also a tourist attraction. It was soon breakfast time in our villa. The villa keepers served us a breakfast that included, among the usual Chinese breakfast foods, tea eggs. Tea eggs are actually a favorite of mine. Basically, you just take a hard-boiled egg, crack the shell a little, then let it soak in a seasoned broth for about four hours. Yaping claimed that, in this area of China, tea eggs are always served when guests are present. After breakfast, we headed back to the village’s entrance. Even though we stayed the night in Hong Cun, we still had to buy tickets to walk the streets during “opening hours.” Also, Hong Cun was one of the villages in China where foreigners were not allowed unless they had a special permit. So I also had to buy a permit before I could legally walk streets. Actually, our driver had already taken care of my permit - he showed me my “Aliens’ Travel Permit” right after buying our tickets. The permit people somehow got the name “Sryan Sturpf” from my passport. Our admission price included a guided tour of Hong Cun. We found out that this village was actually one of the primary settings of “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.” We got to see the spot where Chow Yun Fat walked on water and where he walked over a bridge. Everything was so well preserved - we had a good glimpse of how the Chinese had lived in the Song Dynasty. At around noon, it was time to head to another ancient village. Along the way, we stopped for lunch at this farmhouse-type restaurant. And we had a surprise guest - the director of the county showed up and, of course, sat right next to me. For lunch, they served tea eggs, rice, noodles - the big surprise was pig’s tongue. When I visited the restroom, I found a pigpen right nearby. I guess this is where the pig’s tongue came from. There were two pigs, one was sleeping in the corner, and the other was rooting around for food. Yaping saw me watching the pigs. She came over and said the one pig was looking at me accusingly. I said to the pig, “I didn’t eat your tongue, I swear.” After my proclamation, the pig in the corner awoke and came trotting over to join his partner in giving Yaping and me accusing looks. Actually, I think they were just expecting us to feed them. I could tell they were hungry – when I poked the toe of my sneaker through the pigpen gate, one of the pig’s promptly started gnawing on it. The second ancient village was named Xidi. The centerpiece of Xidi is Hu Hall, built in the Song Dynasty. The founder of Hu Hall, a man surnamed Hu, followed the teachings of Zhu Xi, a philosopher who promoted ancestor worship. Hu built Hu Hall as a temple for all the Hu’s of Xidi. Actually, the village at the time was almost completely populated by Hu’s. Once the Hu Hall was built, Hu convinced all the Hu’s of Hu-ville to worship their ancestors in this temple. After Xidi, it was time to head back to Tun Xi. We had planned for one last dinner with Jiang Xue Ping before boarding our train back to Shanghai. When we arrived in Tun Xi, we thanked our driver and said good-bye – he had driven a lot of miles for us free of charge. We met up with Jiang Xue Ping and her daughter, and we ate at a restaurant right below her travel agency. With a couple of hours to spare before our train’s 10pm departure, the four of us walked the streets of Tun Xi. We walked through the ancient night market, Lao Jie, or “Old Street,” where all the buildings are preserved from the Song Dynasty. After our stroll in the streets of Tun Xi, we said good-bye to Jiang Xue Ping and her daughter. We then took a cab to the Tun Xi train station and then boarded our overnight train back to Shanghai. This time, instead of riding in a soft sleeper car, like we did on our Beijing trip, we were riding in a hard sleeper car. The hard sleeper car is made up of doorless compartments with half a dozen cramped bunks in three tiers. Yaping and I both had middle bunks. Middle bunks are preferable since people often try to sit on occupied bottom bunks and cigarette smoke tends to float up around the top bunks. The ride was actually more pleasant than I expected, and we arrived right on time in Shanghai at 10am.
Emerging from the Shanghai train station, I wished I could have had a few more days of fresh mountain air on Yellow Mountain. But I also realized that as a foreigner, I could blend in a lot easier in the international city of Shanghai. I wasn’t getting lingering stares like in Hefei. We hadn’t seen as much as Yellow Mountain as originally planned, but I got a good glimpse of life in the small cities and small towns of China. After this trip, I now saw Shanghai as a safe haven. The city was still too polluted, but at least I could be more anonymous on the streets of Shanghai. Yet during my “lay-over,” I visited locations where foreigners rarely tread. And because of fewer outsiders, the people were more traditional, more tied to China’s past. Even though I stood out as a foreigner, the people always showed me respect, even admiration. In fact, they wanted to learn from me – and in many ways, I wanted to learn from them. In the next few days in Shanghai, I would need to move out of my apartment. I knew I would miss my view from the 15th floor. But then again, a view from an apartment window couldn’t compare with the view from the top of Yellow Mountain. Still, I appreciated both views for providing two different perspectives of China – one urban, the other majestic. But I still hadn’t reached my highest point in China yet – that would be in Tibet. And before Tibet, Yaping and I had one more trip planned – Cruising Down the Yangtze River. Hope all remains well on your side of the globe!
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