Censorship and Cities; Mandarin and Mountains

I am sick. And I’m sleepy. And I miss my family and friends and England and western food and the dog that I haven’t even met yet. And I’m having a sulk. Worse still, I’m feeling all sick and sulky from a nasty, seedy, potentially dodgy hotel room somewhere in Beijing and I don’t even know where in Beijing because I arrived 2 nights ago and am yet to leave the hotel. Woe is me!! I do however have a (prehistoric) computer in my room and so I thought it was the perfect time to rewrite my blog entry for the Nth time and actually get around to posting it. All of this should be better explained…

Run-down from running around

October is quickly running away from me! Whilst this marks the time when I should be moving on from China to the big trans-Siberian adventure, this also means that I’ve been on the road for nearly 3 months now. Everyone that I spoke to before I left, and many with whom I have spoken since being away, have all talked about the importance of ‘down-time’ when travelling. Honestly, I’ve been pretty bad at this. I always have reputable intentions, but then I get all excited and burn out. This has happened quite a few times, and not just in the last 3 months. Two days ago I flew from Chengdu to Beijing (yes – I know that backpackers aren’t meant to fly places, but I’m sick and also running out of days!) and on arrival finally gave into to the subtle-as-sirens warning signs my body had been giving me for a few days, and checked into a hotel for some quiet and some proper sleep.

I love hostels, really I do. They’re friendly places where no-one else cares that you’re making do and look like hell and on they whole, they’re very homey places. You can’t, however, always be guaranteed a good nights rest when you’re all dormed-up. Let me give you an example. This was way back now in Guilin the second time, the night before I took off for Kunming. I had the top bunk (fine, no problem), under the air-con (less fine, but still, no real problem) but my bunk was next to the loudest snorer this planet has ever sustained. Usually I’m pretty tolerant of this kind of stuff, being a “heavy breather” and chatty sleeper myself (every man’s dream, I know) but this guy was beyond all measure of snoring comprehension. So much so that I was actually forced (from something within the depths of my soul) to hit him, across his (sizable) belly, with my pillow. This did nothing, and so I resigned, pushed the earplugs (which worked FINE when I was sat next to a BOAT ENGINE) in further, rolled over huffily in protest (he was asleep so a really great protest) and kept to my grumpy self. THEN, not satisfied with his own bed he stretched his feet over and rested them on my bed, near to my head, across quite a wide gap between the beds. Intolerant. Indignant. Inconsolable with rage. Unladylike. All of the above. I hit him again, this time without the pillow, but with my wash-bag. This time he woke up and I yelled at him in a hushed, repressed whisper in case any of the other poor souls in our dorm actually had managed to sleep though the thunder symphony. He didn’t speak English. Brilliant. He farted, reluctantly swung his feet back onto his own bed and slept silently, for a whole 30 seconds. On the upside, I did sleep for nearly the entire train journey to Kunming the next day. (and before you think I’m really evil, the wash bag wasn’t that full). So dorms, whilst they can be great, can also bring out my tired murderous side and so I decided that seeing how I was sick, I needed a hotel room, with a TV and a western bathroom.

I was too busy pretending I wasn’t sick and doing stuff in Chengdu to research and book a Beijing hotel so I arrived at the airport and thanked my lucky stars when I saw a “hotel reservations” desk in front of a pretty legitimate looking taxi rank. I dragged my backpack (yeah, it didn’t last long) over to the desk and explained that I wanted a “business hotel” with a TV and nice, western bathroom. She made a reservation for me and even wrote out the address in Chinese to give to the taxi driver (who I couldn’t help but eye, suspiciously). Now, when I said “business hotel” what I had in mind was one of those semi-cheap, characterless hotels you find in every city, with Jack Vettriano paintings adorning the walls of the worn-down rooms and the art doesn’t matter because jet-lagged business men will check in for two nights at most and sleep as much as they can before catching the next flight to the next negotiation. I MAY have been misunderstood. MY hotel is pretty seedy really. It’s not particularly ‘nice’, but I don’t mind because it’s also not particularly ‘expensive’. But, I DO object to the items on offer for sale in my mini-bar: coke, beer, sprite… condoms, lubricant, etc… I am desperately trying to convince myself that this is a proactive approach by the famously socially concerned government to prevent the spread of HIV, but I’m not very convincing. My reaction resembled that of a certain welfare officer’s when she came back from the meeting about welfare items available on request (for the shameless few). For sale? IN MY ROOM? Eiw. I don’t care (that much) because all I currently care for is sleep and watching the one English ‘Propaganda Channel’ on the TV and trying hard to avert my eyes from said mini bar. “Business hotel” is NOT a phrase I shall be using ever again. And I was so excited for 2 nights of relative luxury.

So I’m here (somewhere) in Beijing and intend on getting back on the tourist horse tomorrow. It has been a super busy 2 weeks though, and there’s a lot to update you on.

Censorship

I have actually had this blog entry written, and frequently amended it for at least the last 5 days now. I was part way through typing it up last week, when the proxy I’ve been using to get around the censorship of google (this is a google blog) crashed on me – only me – and hasn’t worked since. I spent an awfully frustrating hour watching everyone else’s computers, but mine work. This was even the case when I changed computers, and the next morning. So I gave up deciding I would type it into an email and get someone to post it onto the site for me.

The ban from Facebook I don’t mind so much, and the ban from google sites is a bit annoying, but the censorship controls really stood out to me and in a quite a frustrating way, as I began to read more of the Chinese press and watch the media. On the whole I do think that western media has a negatively biased view of China in it’s news reporting, and I have thought this speculatively for a while now. Travelling further north into the bigger cities, I can understand the frustrations that western journalists much feel trying to extract information about China and Chinese politics. The pervading attitude that I have encountered, tends to be one of “us and them”. I frequently read or hear the phrase “China’s relations with the US/Italy/Rest of the World”. This is a political nation that is very aware that it’s ostracized. I’m nowhere near qualified to be able to develop a reasoned opinion on this, but the more time I spend in ‘modern’ China, the cities, the more suffocated and controlled I feel the media is. Positive propaganda has a daily drip drip drip effect here, and in one sense, that scares me. In another sense, it also fascinates me and to watch it happening and to be in the middle of it is such an interesting experience, but one that is happening quickly and will probably not be fully processed until I get back to the UK. Being here does challenge a lot of my previously held and accepted ideas though.

Cities

“Complex” is the word I consistently used to describe what I saw and experienced in Vietnam. My word for China is “Epic”.

There is nothing about this fabulous country that is on a small or moderate scale. I took a bus from Kunming to Lijiang a while back, and for the entire 8/9 hours I stared out of my window completely enamoured and in awe of how vast and beautiful the landscape was. (see below for more ‘china is pretty’ gushing). The cities also are epic and huge, and after the quiet of the countryside, really rather imposing actually. The buildings, the crowds, the traffic; everything is completely overwhelming, and if not overwhelming, very, very big.

Mandarin

The Chinese character for "landscape" is comprised of the characters for "mountain" and "river" respectively. Cool, huh? The characters for "mountain" and "river" each have their own stories, both of how the symbol has developed from the ancient into the current symbol, but also how the symbol represented it's meaning in the beginning. When I was in Yangshuo, I was joined for breakfast one morning by an elderly Chinese art teacher who had some time on his hands, and was given a spontaneous 45 minute lesson in the history of two particular characters, for "sun" and "moon". I've heard a few of these histories now, and each time I excited by just how rich, ancient and loaded this language is. I love it, and I love being completely surrounded by it, both audibly and visually. I was always pretty rubbish at learning languages, so this has come as something as a surprise for me. But it's a really wonderful thing to communicate with someone with whom you cannot converse, but have to rely on wide smiles, the good-old lonely planet guide and ridiculous demonstrative miming. I'm also pretty bad at drama, and so miming is of limited utility really, so I remain very grateful that those who are able, are frequently so delighted and willing to teach me a little bit of Chinese. I've been here nearly 2 weeks (I think) and aside from the ability to barter (which I cannot get a handle on because I can't pronounce the numbers) I think I might have picked up as much Mandarin in the last two weeks as I did Vietnamese in two months. I'm having fun - but I'm pretty bad.

Mountains: Tiger Leaping Gorge-ous

Interestingly, the Chinese character for landscape wouldn't make much sense in Britain, or many other parts of the World. Here, however, it couldn't fit more perfectly, and I couldn't experience it more vividly than I have here this past fortnight during my time in Yunnan province, to the west of my previous location.

You might recall from previous entries, mention of my somewhat optimistic/naive level of confidence in my ability to take on new things. Like with driving the motorbike in Hanoi, and various other things I am surprisingly not already perfect at on my first try, trekking Tiger Leaping Gorge (no actual tigers - just 'of legend') this week was definitely one of these occasions when I stood there, out of breath and bewildered, and questioned why on earth I thought I'd "just be able to do this". (Incidentally, as the weather starts to turn and I am realizing that I am acclimatized to 28C heat - minimum - I am asking the same questions about why the hell I ever thought "sure, I'll go to Siberia in THE MIDDLE OF WINTER") Having come close to death on two occasions; one from sheer exhaustion and the other from falling boulders (eh hem - sorry dad!) I am happy, delighted in fact, and extremely proud to sit here and say that I trekked it and it was spectacular!

After losing one set of Germans (sniff, sniff) a few days back, I accidentally found myself hooked-up with another, equally wonderful pair, to make this trek with. Germany is being good to me this trip, and me and my two trekking buddies - because there's no way I would take THIS by myself - set off for the trek, after an overnight stay in the mountain village of Qiaotou. For the first four hours that we walked, it rained, which meant that the first four hours of walking were super-slippy and the path frequently consisted of 4" deep "silver mud. Nice. It was horribly steep, and every time we finished a nasty bit of up-hill trudging, I kept thinking "well, it just can't get harder than THAT". But it did. About 8 times. Then, when we thought we really had done the hard bit, we came across a massive sign advertising snacks to give us energy for the 28 bends up ahead. The 28 bends are the most notorious part of the trek, and no, we hadn't done the hard bit. Our sunken and somewhat dejected but determined hearts were lifted when we saw the "snacks" on offer for sale. There was the standard honey and ginger tea, bananas, snickers bars and, erm, marijuana and magic mushrooms! I kid you not. Surely that's the last thing you want to put into your system before you climb across the face of a cliff. I don't know, it might have helped dull the pain in my thighs and slow the pace of my heart, which was about to explode.

I enjoy trekking, although I'm, quite evidently, not much of a natural hiker. But the reason I keep on doing this, regardless of the level of stamina it will actually require, is that the scenery when you make it to the top is just outstanding, and pure exhilaration buzzes through your spine and your tired limbs. I am incredibly lucky to have seen a lot of really beautiful parts of the world the last few months. Each time something new makes me gasp I get excited and think that's more beautiful, no, THAT'S more beautiful! And each time I am wrong because they're just different types of beautiful that are equally and incomparably spectacular and exciting. There is, however, nowhere that I have been, or nothing that I have seen this is on such an enormously imposing scale and has given me quite the thrill as this gorge. It is stunning, and everything you could want from hiking in China. Not only is there a roaring, gushing ochre river at the centre, fed by a million waterfalls, but the mountains run up to 4000m, are richly green in places, exposed, dramatic rock-face in others, and at the peaks are snow covered and glorious! It's amazing, and under-rated.

After the first four hours of up-hill mud slushing, the path evened our quite a bit and the sun also started to clear away the clouds. The next part of the trek was easier, and allowed more time to absorb the surroundings and atmosphere. My favourite moment occurred just after we passed the half-way marker, indicated by a decorated rock, congratulating us. A little further ahead, we crossed a bridge which joined two sides of a mountain, separated by a giant waterfall. I stood on the bridge, camera in hand and was distracted from being all Ansel Adams-esq by a big rush of cold wind that blew through me, also spraying me with the cold, fresh mist from the waterfall. It felt amazing.

I appreciate that I've spent too many words inadequately gushing about the glories of nature, and I also recognise that this is best left to the poets, so I'll move on. The trek can be done in a single day (apparently!) but is usually completed in two or three. We spent the night after day one at a gorge-ous (haha) Naxi guest-house, which had a roof-top terrace with one hell of a view, a hot shower and a damn good apple pie. There was a great buzz about the guest-house that night. Everyone was as cold and tired as each other (apart from the lazy woman who hired a donkey to carry her!), as excited about what they had seen and as grateful for the warm water and hot food. We met a great Dutch couple, who, both in their 70's, had completed the same part of the trek that day 90 minutes faster than us. Oh the shame!

The next day we woke up, freezing cold and discovered that we actually had electric blankets that we hadn't noticed the night before, in the haste to climb under the covers and get some body-heat circulating. Opps - that would have been really nice. We had banana pancakes and coffee, sitting on the roof terrace - in a cloud. The remainder of the walk was downhill mainly, and took us through three waterfalls! These I managed wonderfully, the previous day I had maneuvered across narrow rock ledges, but when it came to the firm red clay path heading down to the next village, you guessed it, I slid down said hill on my backside twice. Sometimes I really do think I'm too stupid to live. I think it happened this time because I was being all secretly cocky about how maybe I had learned, finally, how to walk properly. Nope! Clearly not!

And the mountain came tumbling down... 

No, this isn't some cliched biblical metaphor. Actual crumbling mountains. Read on:

When we reached the next village, triumphant (and muddy) a fleet of minivans were waiting to drive us back to the start village from where we could connect to onwards transport. There was a slight problem however, we learned from an American also waiting for the next bus back to Qiaotou. With all the rain in the previous two days (of which we caught the tail end) the road was officially closed because of a landslide. We waited for a while, saw a few digger-trucks filled with mud and rocks pass us, and were informed that the road had been “mainly cleared” but that one section remained impassable by car and that we could be taken that far. Okay, sounds fine. At least it sounds better than making the two-day trek back again.

Oh holy hell! I haven’t ever been more scared, or I think, closer to death and a 300ft plunge into a powerful river than on that 40 minute drive. When I heard “landslide” I imagined a section, perhaps even quite a large section of the road being blocked by fallen mud and rubble. This happened when we were in Sapa, and took about 4 hours to clear. No. The entire road, and I mean the entire road, and the sections of the road that apparently hadn’t even been built yet, had the top layer of fallen cliff along the edges where it had been ‘cleared’. In some places this looked fairly landslidey – in others we passed fallen boulders the size of a truck at most, a small child at least, strewn across what was left of the road. In other parts the falling rocks had knocked the barrier between the road and the fall and then, as if I wasn’t scared enough (and I really was scared) I looked behind the van as we drove through to see more boulders, 5ft wide at least, actually still falling down the cliff face! Now, there are quite a few people I promised that I would be safe (or at least alive) to – thus far this is the one real occasion when this has been seriously called into question. It was not a fun 30 minutes.

You might be wondering, given the description that I have just given of the part of the road that was open, how the closed section of the road could possibly be worse? Well, that part of the road had actually caved in and was in the river. Yep. We climbed across to the other side and stared down in frank disbelief.

I caught a pretty uncomfortable local bus filled with Chinese men smoking away back to Lijiang, which is a town between the gorge and Kunming. Lijiang is a pretty town, with a gorgeous park in the centre and surrounded in all directions by towering mountains. A big part of the town has been preserved either as original or restored Naxi old town, and is a maze, and actual maze of cobbled streets and small wooden and brick shops. It’s much like how I imagine Hogsmede would look and feel and it’s pretty fun to wander around. Because it’s such a maze however, I gave up any hope of being able to successfully navigate early, on day one. I have no inner compass, or if I do it’s stored next to a box of spare magnets, and Lijiang is not a town that I could do anything but get lost in. The “Naxi” are ancestrally a Tibetan tribe and now a minority that live across Yunnan province. I like the Naxi for the “baba” (delicious sweet or salty bread), the strong matriarchal traditions and yak yoghurt! I ate a lot of yak meat, drank a lot of yak milk and yoghurt and found it pretty darn tasty, if a bit on the ‘gamey’ side. The Naxi use the yak like the Indians use the buffalo, and so I also have a yak leather handbag (that I am a little bit in love with) and received a Tibetan massage, with an instrument made from yak bone.

Now, should you ever be offered a Tibetan back massage I want you to run, quickly and in the opposite direction from the offeror, okay? I AM BRUISED!! My back is covered, actually covered, in violent looking bruises from where my Tibetan masseuse ‘scrape away the tension and the pain’. I am a fan of massage, a big fan, and have enjoyed experiencing different types and traditions as I have travelled across Asia, and usually at less than 6USD a pop. I was trying to be all open minded and trust different traditions for what they could teach me, so I didn’t object or run, as I should have, out of the room and down the street, but instead lay there for 40 minutes with a screwed up face. Lesson learned. And now, you also have been warned!

The weather is getting much colder now, will be getting colder still and it feels as though everything is changing. I’m going to spend about a week in Beijing, and then depending on if I have time or not, go to a city called Haerbin which used to be Russian controlled and has a lot of residual influence. It’s also the only place in China where I can see Siberian Tigers! (which I want to do). The highlight of the last 2 weeks, I have definitely left for closing and it is this: I HELD A PANDA!!!!! I travelled to Sichuan (at the expense of my time in Xi’an) for this sole purpose and it was wonderful! I went to the Chengdu Panda research reserve and caught breakfast time as the cutest, clumsiest and squashiest animals I’ve ever seen stuffed bamboo into their mouths and lumbered around the enclosure. I was offered the chance to hold a 1 year old, which I jumped at. My panda was about 2ft high, really cuddly, really, really heavy and sat contentedly on my lap has I fed him honey-dipped bamboo and stared into his huge brown eyes. People, I’ve found another reason to move to China, and this is far more tempting than life on a Yangshuo farm…