Ape Rifle

The train ride from Xi’an to Zhengzhou was rather uneventful, our mostly empty soft seat car giving us a little bit of welcome breathing space. My mom and I sat watching the countryside go by, eating yogurt ordered from one of the train attendants (my mom had fallen hard for “Chinese” style yogurt, and she almost got me hooked).

The train trip was a great lesson in how varied the country’s landscape can be. No need to cross huge distances and brave the deserts; crossing from eastern Sha’anxi into western Henan, the scenery changed quite a bit.

For the first while out of Xi’an, the scene changed little: arid villages and brick factories interspersed with dried-up riverbeds and eroded land. Elderly people carried heavy loads along dirt paths, their barefoot grandchildren in tow.

Then came some canyons with a good number of cave dwellings. Next time I looked out the window I was surprised to see huge mountains right up against the train, not a trace of humanity in sight. This rugged landscape slowly gave way to some lush green farmland, looking quite mysterious in the misty rain that had descended upon it.

This picturesque place could hardly last, however. The number of towns and villages soon increased as we moved into Henan, their muddy roads and garbage-strewn streams soon taking over the vista. Infrastructure was definitely not this area’s strong point. Massive coal power stations soon began to appear on the horizon, welcoming us with a thick haze. My mom and I were a bit shocked by the number (and size!) of power stations under construction, their scaffolded smokestacks eager to join their sulphur-belching friends.

By the time we were passing Luoyang, any trace of countryside calm had given way to a sprawl of decaying industry supported by miles of faceless concrete apartment complexes. The rain and haze probably made it appear more depressing than it was, but I remember at that moment wondering why we had chosen to visit Henan (something I was to repeatedly ponder over the next few days).

Zhengzhou was as faceless as only interior Chinese provincial capitals can be. Absolutely massive, the city had the requisite white-tile skyscrapers, billboard-smothered concrete bunker malls and snarling traffic at street level. The only thing of note was an oddly-proportioned Mao statue completely overshadowed by the spaghetti junction twirling around it. Ummm, urban planning anyone?

Scenic Zhengzhou

There was nothing at all remarkable about the place apart from its incredible blandness. In Zhengzhou I had a realization: I was no longer just fascinated with cities being “Chinese”.
If that sounds a little odd, let me explain. Previously, I had found any Chinese city to be fascinating, what with their high energy and bustle. They were different, exotic- this was China. However, as I gradually got used to it all, the mystique wore off. I once again became able to tell whether a city was great or, well, a shithole.

Zhengzhou was a dump.

Regardless, my mom and I set up shop in the Holiday Inn (travelling with a middle-aged parent has some very tangible perks). I felt like I was in some strange bubble consisting of an immaculate hotel room, BBC International and some crazy Japanese networks. The Chinese restaurant felt lifted right out of a North American Chinatown (well, besides the pleather man purse crowd happily smoking the place into oblivion).

Originally, we had planned to use Zhengzhou as a base of sorts for day trips to Luoyang and Kaifeng. But at some point we decided a good chunk of our Henan time would be better spent escaping to Shandong, so Kaifeng was the only place of note we ended up visiting.

So on a horrible rainy day, we set out to find the east bus station to catch a quick ride to Kaifeng. The Holiday Inn was on an avenue that was imposing for no other reason than to be, well, imposing. As we made our way along, we took in the usual faux-palace government buildings, their drives smattered with the usual black sedans. The philosophy in these parts seemed to be: “if it is going to be tasteless, at least make it big”. But unlike Xi’an, the grand scale here seemed almost farcical. My mom summed it up perfectly: “All this show, but what for, really? There’s nothing here.” Sprawl for its own sake is not pretty.

Due to my stubbornness, we missed the bus station and instead ended up walking under a highway interchange on our way to getting all turned around. On one side of us were Audis dealers; on the other was a destitute scene of mud, earth piles and vagrants. As blue trucks rumbled overhead and the air was at its foulest, I once again had to wonder: what were we doing in Henan?

Finding a bus station splattered with mud and sporting some sketchy looking people, we got on our bus and waited (at this point my feet were thoroughly soaked through). I looked around and thought the bus station scene belonged more in some far flung rural backwater than a major city.

An hour later (or I guess I should say an hour after our bus finally left), we arrived at our destination. Kaifeng was the saving grace of our brief stay in Henan. Although the rain was still coming down and the mud was still omnipresent, something about this town was quiet and soothing. Maybe it was because of the horrible weather or the time of year, but as tourists we seemed to have the place completely to ourselves. The lakes, parks and pagodas all sat shrouded in a quiet mist (and I mean a genuine mist unrelated to industrial emissions). The whole place just had a very laidback feel to it. One lake in particular rivalled Hangzhou’s crown jewel in the “misty mystique” department.

Central Kaifeng

One of the market streets

Pensive China: parks, pagodas and lakes

We wandered around for a few hours, enjoying the calm and entertaining a vendor by showing him a book written in English (he thought it was hilarious to see something not written in Chinese, a really friendly guy). I really enjoyed the architecture but was a bit disconcerted by the poverty that surrounded the touristy avenues.

Gone fishin’

Rooftops in the mist

Our bus ride back to Zhengzhou in the evening skipped the expressway in favour of a pedal-to-the-medal cruise on a local road. You always hear about how many millions of people live in the Chinese countryside; for the first time, I actually saw ridiculously overcrowded rural areas. The landscape looked completely strained by the human crush. For an hour or so we ploughed through a market of mud and trash, it was just never-ending people. The weather didn’t help things much.

And what was the local government doing to try and alleviate this desperate scene? Why, building monuments to themselves of course, complete with faux-Roman columns, and filling the parking lots with expensive black sedans. No wonder the boys in Beijing are so exasperated.

As our bus to Jinan braved the morning traffic, I was glad to be leaving Zhengzhou and Henan Province. The sun had finally come out, only to prove that the sky was just as grey without a storm cloud in sight (unfortunately, the rain was to eventually chase us all the way to Beijing).

My experience of Henan was muddy, dirty, overcrowded with people and underpopulated with interesting things to do (except Kaifeng). The people in Zhengzhou just didn’t come across as friendly or happy. The men seemed to be either gangsters or the long-haired migrant youth clad in dirty army fatigues and howling “haaalllos” at the moon. The weather didn’t help things much.

Memories of Henan

More Memories of Henan

An AIDS epidemic is just about the last thing this place needs.

Coming in from the airport after a flight from Hangzhou, I couldn’t help but notice how much emptier and arid the countryside appeared. The moisture sucked out of it, the scenery consisted mainly of dust, ramshackle mudbrick homes and distant power plants smothered in haze of their own creation.

Also quite noticeable was the change in colour: pastels and sun-baked earth tones dominated the scene. The bright landscape, however, did little to hide the poverty. Travelling inland from the east coast cities is a good reminder as to why China is still considered a poor country. The airport highway cut through miles of destitute housing, communist-era brown brick apartment complexes and the crumbling world of state-owned enterprise. The disregard for traffic rules that places like Hangzhou try so hard to fight is left to its own devices here: multi-wheeled chaos with nary a lane in sight.

The centre of the city was quite a surprise: rather than opt for the popular Wall Street on the cheap model, Xi’an instead goes for the Imperial Capital look. Huge boulevards intersect neatly at monument-laden traffic circles, and they are lined with block-wide buildings often topped off with ornate Chinese-style roofs (yes, even the modern ones).
The impressive city wall has equally impressive gates, and the heavy flow of traffic seems to indicate a city at the heart of something. In some ways, it made me think of a dirty Washington DC. Maybe this is what imperial Rome would feel like in 2004 ( if it was in China and designed by communists, that is).

Imperial Xi’an

Rush hour near the Drum Tower

But like most things in China, there is quite a different story just beneath the surface. Upon closer inspection, Xi’an is a bit more tattered and crumbling than its grand scale suggests. The forest of skyscrapers surrounding the Old City has its fair share of concrete ghosts, abandoned projects and ill-conceived white elephants. Some of the tastefully designed hotel and restaurant complexes are, unfortunately, glaringly empty. The back streets are not very glamorous, and the numerous beggars are particularly aggressive.

The city’s less glamorous side: abandoned construction galore

Despite all this, however, Xi’an has something going for it. Unlike its eastern cousins, the city doesn’t seem so afraid of its past. It might not be wealthy or paved with gold, but at least it tries to do something different. I was in minor shock to see new development taking on an unmistakably Chinese architectural shape: haven’t we all been taught that learning from tradition is backward?

The Muslim Quarter alone is well worth a visit to Xi’an. This neighbourhood right in the heart of the city is, rather surprisingly, untouched by the usual road widening, culture-killing modernization frenzy. Its streets are narrow and maze-like, bustling with bearded men, vendors, bikes, carts, and restaurants. One particular area comes alive at meal time, its sidewalks crammed with an endless variety of meat meals, cakes and Muslim sweets. In fact, so much smoke is produced from the cooking at this time that it at first we thought the neighbourhood was burning down.

The leafy streets of the Muslim Quarter

That’s a lot of cooking!

To escape the chaos, however, nothing more is needed than a visit to the mosque grounds. Instantly cut off from the outside world, you are free to examine the interesting architecture in peace and solitude.

But this was one of the fews places of tranquility to be found in town. Xi’an is a human crush. The sidewalks were an exercise in crowd control gone awry, and even the smallest lanes overflowed with people. To say the city’s crowds impressed me is definitely something after two years in China.

The restaurants continued the “sea of humanity” theme. Each one we dined in was a multi-storied complex packed with rowdy diners and scrambling waitresses juggling heaps of dishes. Besides all the Muslim delights, the order of the day seemed to be dumplings, dumplings and more dumplings.

The hotel my mother and I stayed at, the Melody if I remember correctly, was at the heart of the action. It was located between the Bell and Drum Towers, and our room had a great view on a square bustling with families late into the night (this space was also allegedly home to a beer garden, but we never found it). It was from this vantage point that we could see the Muslim Quarter go up in smoke every evening.

Of course, the Melody also provided my mother with a proper introduction to the Chinese hospitality industry. For the first two nights the phone rang off the hook, and when that wasn’t enough the knocks and giggles came at the doorway. At first we couldn’t figure out why we were being so constantly pestered, but soon we realized the hotel had the kindness to put us on the same floor as the health spa/massage parlour. Perfect.

In terms of sightseeing, our biggest adventure was walking the city wall. We made if from the South Gate to the North Gate with a few detours around repair work, including one that put us in the middle of a primary school troupe pouring out for lunch (marching songs and all). The vantage point from the wall was pretty impressive, allowing one to see both the grid of the Old City and the outside sea of shoddy highrises disappearing into the haze.

Enjoying the wall

Primary school trouble

Arriving at the North Gate, we realized to our horror that there was a fence blocking the wall from the gate complex, and it was locked. Completely unwilling to trek back several kilometres to the previous exit, my mom instead took the initiative and climbed around the outside of the fence, where it hung past the wall and over the street below. Necessarily, her cowardly son followed. I think the Japanese tour groups were pretty entertained.

Our trip out to the Terra Cotta warriors was yet another lesson in why to avoid ANY sort of Chinese tour, even the half-day variety. By the time we got to the site itself, we had visited so many shops, jade factories and manufactured places of interests that I could have done with just sleeping in the van. I had yet to see one of the real figures, and yet I was already sick of that blank stare, having seen hundreds of thousands of their fake cousins in every window of every building.

The real things were, thankfully, still impressive, making for a fascinating archeological site. There is nothing I can say here about the warriors that hasn’t been said already.

The thing I remember most from that particular tour, however, was the visit to Chiang Kai- shek’s hiding place (of Xi’an Incident fame). Our group was looking out from the hill over the Sha’an Xi countryside. In front of us was a blighted industrial town, its dreariness surpassed only by the noxious layer of smoke settled over it.

The town in question

The tour guide announced this town was an example of how everything was getting better, because “there were more and more tall buildings”. As I looked at the dilapitated concrete towers, whose embezzled construction funds likely provided a BMW or three to the local official, I wondered what was scarier: that our guide might actually believe this, or that she thought we were stupid enough to believe it?

When another member of our group sarcastically asked why he couldn’t see most of the buildings, the guide responded it was because of the “frost” (I think she meant fog, seeing as it was June). She continued on to tell us that there was no pollution in the countryside; that was the cities’ problem. Interesting, seeing as the landscape seemed to be sprouting more smokestacks than crops. I love Chinese tours.

Xi’an, I will admit, is probably not for everyone. It’s dusty, dirty and disorganized. It doesn’t have much glitz or glamour. Like other inland Chinese cities, its desperate desire to play a part in China’s modernization craze has resulted in a number of monstrous concrete graveyards and abandoned infrastructure. Unlike the east coast, it just doesn’t have the money to play New York. Some would probably say it is nothing more than a polluted industrial sprawl cashing in on its once illustrious history.

But to these people I say: what Chinese city isn’t a polluted industrial sprawl cashing in on its once illustrious history? For all its shortcomings (at least from the Chinese point of view), Xi’an still manages to retain a strong character. Perhaps this lies in the originality of the Old City, or in the neighbourhood streets. It is pretty hard to pin down. In Xi’an I had a strange sensation: by all means this should not be a pleasant city, but somehow it manages to be one of the more pleasant in the country. Its role as a central Chinese industrial entity should have erased any culture decades ago, but instead the city feels like one of the more cultured in the country. Xi’an, despite itself, is cool.

Product display at Loblaws
Montreal, Quebec

British Columbia: The coastal area of this province offers what is probably THE most spectacular introduction to Canada. Deep blue ocean, snow-capped mountains and beautiful green islands. A definite eye-opener.

Vancouver Airport: In China, airports are mostly populated by the beautiful people, the wealthy elite who can afford to fly. Pudong International in Shanghai, despite its grand design, is actually rather spartan and empty given how large it is. There are a few ridiculously overpriced restaurant/cafes serving pretty crappy food, so it’s pretty much down to business: you get to your gate and get on your flight.

Vancouver’s International Airport threw me headfirst back into North American society. The arrival area was an absolute zoo: Fat tourists, bratty kids, baseball caps and baggy pants abound. The food court was absolutely enormous, crammed with all the Starbucks, Roots store and National Geographic souvenir boutiques you could possibly desire. Businessmen on cell phones were no longer the majority; they seemed vastly outnumbered by the families arguing over who was going to drag the suitcase around. Middle Class World, I missed you.

Cultural Diversity: Indian, Pakistani, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, West Indian, African, South American, Arab, Central Asian, Russian, European: you name it. The Canada Customs agents were mostly non-White: I thought it was great to see, helps to dispel the “blonde hair and blue eyes” nonsense.

Canadians Love Their Beer: The talk of the land when I arrived was the rumour (now confirmed) of a merger between Molson Breweries (based in Montreal, naturally) and Coors in the US. Beyond the usual “merger of equals” business spin, it sounds more like a takeover of Molson. Leave it to beer to bring out nationalist sentiments; some articles decried the fact that Budweiser is now the best-selling beer in the country, and others made fun of Molson’s “I Am Canadian” marketing campaign. “I Was Canadian”, anyone?

Consumer Overload: Despite the fuss many of us makes about the rise of China’s reckless consumerism, North America is still ahead by several billion light years. Thousands of flavours of everything, product tie-ins all over the place, a logo plastered in every nook and cranny; this land has been at this game for decades, and man does it show. It feels like a society that has reached a stage where it has nothing more to do than invent new flavours of Twizzlers. I spent twenty minutes trying to decide what Iced Tea (out of 20 varieties) I wanted, then I wandered over to the Intel Centrino promotion booth for some free internet access.

Dressing for Diversity: It’s strange to be back in a place where, for the most part, people don’t dress to indicate their social status. Gone are the golf shirts, man purses and leather shoes. In comes a wide array of clothing, looks and hairstyles. If it’s comfortable, wear it. It makes even “liberal” Chinese cities like Shanghai look like dreary examples of communist conformity. Conformity with capitalist characteristics, that is.

Driving: How can there be so many cars and so little noise? China Patrick is confounded by this. What is noticeable, especially from the vantage point of a plane, is how much the automobile dominates this society. Cities seem inhabited by cars rather than people.

Everything is a road, a highway or a parking lot. People drive everywhere, whether they need to or not. The roads are rammed with commuters and families rather than blue trucks and CCP sedans.

However, it is a breath of fresh air to be back in a place where a car is merely a mode of transportation, not a flashy show of wealth and power. Most Buicks are pretty dumpy in Canada.

There are more people riding bikes in Montreal than I remember. Interesting.

Internet: Blazing fast. Hello BBC, Blogspot, Typepad, Livejournal. Gmail works amazingly well, as does Yahoo Mail (almost instant page loading, words I would never associate with that service back in the Middle Kingdom). I guess the Canadian government has better things to do than filter the hell out of every page on the net.

Television: It’s almost scary how slick the production values are. Too bad they are mostly wasted on crappy ads trying to push useless products.

The sports networks are as entertaining as always, thankfully, with all the plays of the week and the over-excited sportscasters.

And the news says bad things about people in power. In fact, the news consists mostly of people saying bad things about people in power.

Food: Roast Beef sandwich…Caesar salad….sooo heavy…can’t…move….

Night Lights: I completely forgot that Canadian cities keep their lights on at night. Montreal lights up like a Christmas tree, with each downtown skyscraper trying to best its neighbours (no neon though, thank god for decent taste).

Montreal: The city hasn’t really changed at all (unlike the typical Chinese urban area, which re-models itself every month or so). There is one new office tower of notice downtown, but that thing has been under construction since 2000 or something.

In many ways, Montreal is the exact opposite of Chinese cities. Many of the Middle Kingdom’s urban areas look physically wealthy (glass towers, glitz everywhere), while the population is still pretty poor. In Montreal, the physical city looks rather funky and disheveled (lots of old buildings, the avenues aren’t twenty lanes wide, the skyscrapers were built decades old), but instead the people come across as wealthy.

Advertising: Canadian cities, unlike their Chinese counterparts, don’t have every foot of every building covered with giant, ugly and offensive billboards. I kind of like it. Capitalism with classy characteristics.

China: Starting to miss you already.

Coming soon: my last China travel journals.

Vancouver, British Columbia

Canadian Rockies

Having loads of time on my hands, I’ve managed to check up on all my favourite blogs. I’m happy to report that Sinobling seems back in fine form with yet another hilarious list, this one concerning possible Chinese superheroes. For further list hilarity, check out Things Not To Do in China and Greg’s ESL Cafe.

So in honour of Sinobling, I present my own random list. As I travelled around the country this past month, I encountered the inevitable propaganda billboards/government policy slogans. A vestige of days gone by, they use socialist style sloganeering to encourage everything from economic development to hand-washing. Most billboards say something about developing the motherland and/or social stability, and are comprised of smiling uniformed people standing tall in front of an American downtown and/or Swiss countryside backdrop (Detroit seems to be a favourite, god know why).

Of course, like any good propaganda, these things aren’t exactly rooted in reality. So, I got to wondering: what would these slogans/government campaigns sound like if they were just a bit closer to the on-the-ground situation in modern China? Here are a few possibilities:

Prepare for your Future: Sleep in Class

Think for your motherland, not for yourself

Cheating: Everyone is doing it!

News is Boring: Keep playing Counterstrike!

We Decide, They Report, You Obey

Say Hello! A Guide to Welcoming Foreign Friends

Buy A Car Now, Learn to Drive Later

Bicycles are for losers

Help Fight Traffic: Drive on the sidewalk

Ignore the Peasants: Everything is Fine

Money Can’t Buy Taste: A Beginner’s Guide to being Nouveau Riche

Conserve Energy! Turn Off the AC, Take Off your Shirt

What’s that Smell?

Don’t Worry, It’s just Fog

Keep Smoking, We Need the Money

A Denial a Day keeps the Problem Away!

Taiwan: All Your Base Are Belong To Us

Your Neighbour Has One, Why Don’t You??

Communism’s not Dead, It’s just Sleeping

Supply, Demand and Embezzlement: Onwards, New Economy!

There’s Enough For Everyone: Get in Line!

Tall Buildings = Development

Voicing Your Opinion, or How To Disappear Completely

The Countryside? Where’s that? Urban China Welcomes You!

Modernize the Infrastructure, Not the People

You Borrow the Money, We’ll Bail Out the Bank

Everyone Loves the Han: Settle in Western China today!

Don’t Drink the Water: Not Just a Dave Matthews Song

We Built This City But Didn’t Get Paid: Respecting Migrant Workers

I’m Rich, Get Out of My Way! Proper Social Relations in an All-around, Well-off Society

Changing the Topic: A Guide to Conversation with Foreign Friends

Mao Drove a Lexus: Study Ideological Continuity Today!

Japan: Hate the Country, Not the Money

Goodbye Protest, Hello Qinghai

Don’t Worry China, I Still Love You! Resist Bitter Foreigner’s Complaints

The Russian capital seems to be taking lessons in greed-driven urban development from China. I wonder if violent evictions and empty towers are included (corruption obviously is).

Urumqi, Xinjiang