Showing posts with label China. Show all posts
Showing posts with label China. Show all posts

Sunday, 24 January 2016

Tourists do the Funniest Things

by Neil Matthews

The scene: evening in a hotel lobby, behind the potted plants, with local beer on hand...

Guide (early 20s, short spiky hair, comfortably built, round face, tshirt and shorts): "I told them they should try your restaurant as it's next door to the hotel. Did they turn up?"

Waitress (also early 20s, taller and slimmer than the guide with longer hair, traditional red and gold dress): "They did, but what was that you told me about them saying they ate a lot of Chinese food at home? They chose the roast duck and couldn't assemble it to save their lives! Too much filling in the pancake, every time, and they didn't put the cucumber and the spring onion parallel at the bottom before rolling it up. I had to go and show them how to do it, or else they'd probably still be there!"

Giggles round the table



Guide: "Good grief. Then there was the Great Wall fiasco. The wife actually asked if it would be a better idea to walk up there - why did she think there was a cable car? The two girls were there as usual to help them get on, but I think they thought it would stop at the bottom rather than continuing to move. The husband managed to squeeze himself in at about the third attempt...When we got there, they promptly announced that he had a problem with heights and she didn't like stairs. They managed the length of about two towers distance and that was it - straight down again. Then I took them to the same old cheap restaurant at the bottom (no choice round there) and they said they really liked it!"

Wall guide (short, mid-50s, long hair in ponytail): "Yes but, Tzun Pe, you need to remember these Westerners have bigger feet than us. Those bright red trainers the woman was wearing - all well and good for wide streets in London - not so good for our Wall. No wonder she had to slide sideways down some of the steps, like a crab. I went along at my normal pace, but it didn't seem to encourage them - quite the opposite. And after all that, they didn't even buy a Great Wall book. I was a bit miffed, I'm telling you."

Driver (30s, tall, lean, polo shirt and dark trousers): "Well, whatever you got up to with them on the trips must have worn them out...they were nodding off in the car all the time. Still, they were polite enough, weren't they?"

Guide: "Yes, I suppose they were...here's to the next bunch."

All clink glasses

All: "The toast is - tourists!"
First published in VISA issue 78 (Apr 2008)

Friday, 4 December 2015

Sands of Dunhuang

By Neil Matthews

The camera threatened to blow away and the masked figures appeared out of the gloom. This was not going to plan.


We had been drawn to Dunhuang by its position as a key station on the delicate old trade network of the Silk Road. On the edge of the Gobi, Dunhuang seemed to epitomise the mystery and romance of the East. A virtually empty flight from Xi'an to an even emptier airport, a ten minute drive to our hotel and the romantic visions deepened. The Silk Road Hotel is built in the style of a Tang dynasty castle. It is vast, echoing and impressive. Some people don't go as far on their holidays as we did from our room to breakfast. Every face smiled, eager to please. Late night chrysanthemum tea on the rooftop terrace gave a hance to savour the sights still to be seen.


Camels at Mingsha sand dunes
The next morning, our bespectacled guide Mary took us to one of the two main reasons for visiting Dunhuang, its sand dunes. They made an impressive sight, although they did not whistle, sing or rumble as various stories and legends had it. Groups of excitable Chinese rode rather less excitable camels, while other Chinese trooped to the top of the dunes in order to slide down them in rubber rings. Helen and I wandered over to the Crescent Moon, a natural lake which mysteriously has never dried up. Here we looked at calligraphy and photography exhibitions, sipped water flavoured with dried apricots and tried to persuade Mary that Auld Lang Syne originated in Scotland rather than in China.


Crescent Lake
The other prime attraction of Dunhuang is the collection of Buddhist art at the Mogao Caves, 25km outside the city. As our car slipped out of the city centre after lunch in the direction of the Caves, a grey and empty landscape, enlivened with the occasional shrub, surrounded us. The blue skies of the morning had dissolved into grey...or was it orange? Helen pointed to the right of the car and asked what the different colouration indicated. "A sandstorm," said Mary in the most offhand, unconcerned way you could imagine.

Fine. Until a few minutes later, as our driver continued to apply his foot to the accelerator, the sandstorm caught up with us. Not that he was worried, at least outwardly; he continued to honk politely at lorries and cyclist while using most of the opposite lane to overtake them.

"Are sandstorms unusual?" I asked Mary.

"We normally have about four in April," she replied. We decided not to press the point that this was July.

Suddenly the driver pulled the car off the road. Was he going to stop and call for help, I wondered?
Apparently not - there was a diversion because a nearby bridge had been knocked down by recent flooding. As we bumped and bounced past the remains of the bridge, we noted that the storm had not dissuaded manual labourers from continuing their work on the rebuilding. The last part of the approach to the Caves is through a boulevard of poplars. These were now bending at alarming close-to-45-degrees angles as the storm gained strength.

Finally we arrived at the car park and Mary dashed to the ticket office. As the blur of white blouse and blue jeans disappeared into the middle distance, I tried and failed to persuade myself to run after her. That lunch of minced pork dumplings and cold beef and marinated cucumber had not been a good preparation for running through a sandstorm...not to mention the fried rice, green cabbage soup with noodles, sweet and sour pork, cauliflower and the beef kebabs...and the aubergine, cabbage with chillis, steamed bread, pork with green beans and watermelons. The Chinese are generous hosts.


Sandstorm, Mogao Caves
While we waited for Mary to return, the sand swirled around the stone buildings and my hat and sunglasses became essential defensive mechanisms against the invading particles. We were not, though, as thoroughly prepared as some of the locals. Out of the sandy mist came a number of figures swathed in purpose-made or improvised face masks. Along with their dark glasses and cowboy hats, they cut incongrously sinister figures. They seemed to be ready for this eventuality and we were not, which was disconcerting.

Any port in a storm - ours was what is euphemistically called a "retail opportunity", namely the museum gift shop. We couldn't see Mary or the driver, so going back to the car was not an option. Instead we joined the growing number of visitors in the shop, wandering disconsolately round the books, neckwear, jade and other items, wondering (a) when the storm would stop, and (b) why you can only buy postcards in China in sets of 10 or more. Each new visitor staggered in to exchange remarks and glances of wonder, wry amusement and even self-congratulation for surviving it all. If there was any frustration at being unable to view the caves, it was well hidden. Eventually, we braved it back to the ticket office to find that the caves had been closed for the day. The dust might have damaged some of the paintings and harmed the visitors (the reasons were given in this order)

The Mogao caves, for today at least, were the No-go caves. So we made our disappointed way back to the hotel, with the storm still raging and the driver showing as much apparent concern for the additional danger as he had on the way out. (No mere sandstorm was going to stop him overtaking all other vehicles.) The hotel itself had closed the huge double doors at its entrance, as well as all internal doors and the rooftop terrace. However, the high step just inside the entrance which apparently wards off evil spirits had not totally repelled the invasion. Much of the gardens, and the red lanterns hung at intervals around the exterior, were now decorated with dust and sand. It was the next day before things returned to normal, the caves re-opened and the hotel returned to dealing fficiently with more customary invaders: the coach parties of visitors, swallowed up in its vast interior as efficiently as a pork dumpling.

First published in VISA 76 [December 2007]

Thursday, 21 May 2015

Five Peak Mountain


by Rachel Kruft Welton

My Mum and I boarded the bus to Wutai Shan at 6.30am as Mr Wang suggested we should, in order to ‘get the best seats’. The bus drove around town for well over an hour picking up passengers. An old bloke, with formidable garlic breath, sat behind us and changed into Buddhist robes and a yellow padded hat. The driver sat under the no smoking sign and took it in turns with the passenger opposite us to chain smoke his way across China. Occasionally, he spat noisily onto the floor to relieve the boredom. The woman on the front row vomited neatly into a plastic bag.

The route as far as the Hanging Temple is fairly flat and dusty. After that and the welcome toilet stop, it climbs up into the mountains, before crossing another plain with the longest queue of lorries I have ever seen. We must have been driving past them for over half an hour.

Finally, six hours into the journey, we started to climb the really big mountains. The Wutai Shan mountains rise to over 2700m. We went up on hairpin bends with precipitous drops on one side and the remains of 8 feet of snowdrifts on the other. At one point we passed a snow plough trying to break up the pack-ice on the road. I clutched the seat in front and prayed that I wouldn't die on a Chinese mountain.


We stopped at the checkpoint where everyone had to buy three day passes to the Wutai Shan Scenic Spot. The cost bore no relation to the advertised price on the outside of the checkpoint. It was unsurprisingly significantly more expensive. I think we were done for about a tenner there.

On arrival in the village, we were immediately pounced on by a local family and dragged into their compound with the promise of a cheap room. To be fair, it was cheap, at just £3 per person, per night. There were three beds in a small room. At the back was a smaller room, with a sink, toilet and shower. The owner said the shower was only cold water, but we reckoned we could handle that for a couple of nights if we had to.

Once we had paid, however, we discovered the bathroom had no running water at all. In addition, the toilet didn't drain, let alone flush, rendering it unusable. We had inadvertently taken a room in the Hotel from Hell, with an en suite full of dysfunctional, smelly, pointless bathroom furniture.

Some hours later, when the toilet overflowed, through no fault of ours, they moved us to a new room on the upper storey. This also had a toilet that didn't work and no running water. The smell from this one was so bad that it woke me up in the morning when the door accidentally drifted ajar, letting the fumes into the sleeping area.

The owners had provided incense sticks, but it did little to alleviate the pong. Mum was all for crapping into a plastic bag. We high-tailed it at dawn to a four star hotel up the road and had a shower. It was so nice to see a bathroom where the toilet had a sign on it saying ‘Sterilized’ as opposed to the one we had just left, which should have been labelled ‘Unsanitary’.

The village of Wutai Shan sits in a valley between the mountain peaks. The name itself means five peak mountains and they do rise above the main road, dwarfing everything. It is an important site of Buddhist pilgrimage and the devout come to worship at the many temples here. Maroon robed lamas walk alongside mustard and grey-robed monks.

We visited several temples on the first afternoons and we had an impromptu course in Buddhism, courtesy of a local girl wishing to improve her English. We saw the gilded temple of Xiantong and the smiling Buddha of Guangren Si. Mum's legs were tired, so we sat on a rock where we were given some beads by an ancient, grey-clad man.

A friendly couple also started talking to us and helped us order food at our hotel from Hell. The food was surprisingly good. We swapped phone numbers and arranged to meet Li Wen Li (Lily) and her husband Wong Tai Long the next day.

They met us at the bottom of the cable car lift to the Dailuo Terrace. It was a peaceful ascent, giving excellent views over the village and the surrounding mountains. We took a look round the temple at the top and caught the cable car back down. There were actually sedan chairs available, but Mum declined. They were made from a metal framed deck-chair attached to a pair of wooden poles. I don't know that I would have fancied it either.

Lily and Wong treated us to lunch, then we went to the Pusa Temple, where everyone was gathering for a ceremony. We wedged ourselves into a spot on the concrete floor in amongst the crowd. It was immensely packed, cramped and uncomfortable.

The monks were lined up on either side of the temple. They chanted some prayers as the main head lama came in, accompanied by drums, cymbals and a blast on a seashell. The elderly lady next to me showed me how to make a lotus flower pattern with my fingers, the way the monks were doing.

There was a fair amount of rice throwing into the crowd. That was fine, I understand that, after all, we throw rice at weddings. Then the crowd started throwing bolts of golden or white cloth towards the front, one of which clobbered me round the back of the head. I have no idea what that was about.

After an hour, my bladder couldn't wait anymore and we crept out to try and find a loo. A friendly monk, called Suma, directed us to a WC. This was a communal affair involving us and a ten Chinese people squatting along a plank with holes in it. It was still an improvement on the one at the Hon Yon Hotel.

Mum’s knees are not really up to squatting, but, not to worry, in this open-plan facility, there were several willing helpers, who raced over to help her stand up again afterwards, seemingly completely unembarrassed by her knickers round her ankles!

Finally, we took a wander round the Tayuan Temple with the large white Dagoba in it. I turned the prayer wheels that surrounded it: once for health, once for happiness and once for longevity. I like prayer wheels. There is something good about turning them. More religions should have them, I think.

First published in VISA 92 (Aug 2010)

Sunday, 5 April 2015

Chinese Banquet

by James Allen

We have a friend who comes from China and who has given us an insight into modern China. We asked if she wanted us to take anything out to her friends or family. We also asked if we might meet with some of her friends or family. She agreed to find people to help us when we arrived - to show us around and show us the real China away from the tourist spots. The holiday was booked so we would be on some tours and some free time, but would have transport arranged at each location so to take the worries away. We didn't know what to expect. Would it be like Russia 20 years ago, all grey and worn, would there be lots of bicycles and smog? We were keen to go...

Our first sight of China was from 10,000 metres or over 30,000 feet, from the aeroplane window. This was of the Gobi desert and initially we could see no human evidence. Slowly roads and villages appeared and, as we passed over the mountains, before the fog of Beijing we saw many villages and terraced hillsides - evidence of intense cultivation.

Beijing was foggy when we arrived (and was to stay this way for most of the days we were there), and we found the terminals to be very modern. The access to the country was easy and quick, very different from the USA! After luggage collection we headed out to the concourse. Like any airport it was crowded and noisy, but there was the first of many drivers we would meet holding up a name card, unfailingly cheerful and polite: these guys were always a welcome sight. The first thing we noticed other than the poor driving was the amount of construction going on, and not just for the 2008 Olympics.

We arrived at our Hotel - The Kerry Centre, which opened up into a vast 5 star centre, with its own shopping mall and 5 restaurants. The hotel was big, luxurious and (comparatively) cheap. Indeed we found later that it was one of the top hotels in Beijing. During the following few days we made much use of the pool, sauna and hot tubs as well as having a massage. However the following day was the first tour.

We started off the tour in a way that was to become familiar to us over the next 2 weeks:-

  • The coach picked people up at different hotels, thus we never had the same tour guide or people on the tour who were the same.
  • We watched in amazement everybody's bad driving!
  • We always went to a restaurant for lunch, which served western Chinese food.
  • We always went to a factory (i.e. shop) that showed how 'it' was made/carved, then taken into a large shop with a shop assistant each to buy the item we had just seen made/carved etc.
  • At each stop there would be many sellers of 'lolex' or bags, but who when told boo yow (I don't want) would move away. 
  • Chinglish signs - almost all signs (subway, traffic, etc) had English translations that were often funny - one of the best being the 'losting found' at Shanghai Railway Station.


We started off heading out to the Ming Tombs, only one of which had survived the Cultural Revolution intact (because Mao had once visited and enjoyed this particular tomb). There is a small temple structure and various other buildings. Finally we realised that the hill behind the temple was the earth covering the tomb!

At this point we began to understand that, in China, labour has always been very cheap. We noticed that by western standards hotels and restaurants were highly over-manned, but we always had unfailing good, attentive service. This also goes for the manpower needed to create these tombs and the Great Wall.

We then went to the jade factory which, while trying to get money from us, was actually quite interesting. Following lunch we headed for the Great Wall. Over 6000 kilometres long, the Wall is within 70 km of Beijing and there are a number of sections that are open to the public and restored to be able to walk on. The location we went to is the official one where people like Nixon etc were/are taken. The wall itself is generally over 7m high and approx 5m wide, and follows the hills, so it can be very steep, often without steps. On arrival we went to have our photos taken at the spot where Nixon visited, then went left, up the steeper side of the valley. This proved a task - very steep and slippery in places, with various 'lolex' sellers in the way, but the peak was something to behold. Across the mountain range for the next 10 - 15 kms, the wall snaked across the landscape.

The following day we arrived in Tiananmen Square, the largest square in the world, capable of holding over a million people. It was also the site for Mao's mausoleum and the size of the square made the queue look small, but it was a 40 minute wait. We then entered through many gates the Forbidden City, home of the last dynasty's Emperors. This walled city within a city contains all the functional buildings of worship and State and lodgings. There are over 600 buildings and 10,000 rooms in the complex, of which we saw only a fraction.


From here we were driven round to the Temple of Heaven, basically the Emperors’ official temple outside the Forbidden City. Much was made of the fact that the masses could now walk where only Emperors could walk before.

Lunch and the pearl factory followed, then on to the Summer Palace. This was where the court visited to avoid the heat of the summer, and was basically a palace around a manmade lake. This is a stunning location.

We now had the first of our days on our own, and we headed back to the Forbidden City to take our time and go through the museums and courtyards ourselves at our own rate. This was wonderful, and we negotiated the subway and ticket buying without too many problems. The Forbidden City was so large that we didn't even see all the rest! Later in the afternoon, we entered the park behind the city and walked to the upper temple to look over the whole city.

That evening, we met the first of the friends of our friends. We were taken to a famous Peking Duck restaurant. Here we met Fu Wong, Emma and Alison. Emma and Alison are the English names, which many Chinese people take to make working with Westerners easier. We enjoyed a great evening. We tried duck tongue, feet and various other parts, all the while becoming great friends with the three ladies.


The following day we met up with Fu Wong for the day and walked through the Bei Hei park area of temples to the hutongs (older areas of housing that have survived in areas for over 200 years) where we got a bike tour around the area. We met with the others and went to the night market and we looked in amazement at the array of food on a stick including starfish, grasshoppers, scorpions etc. Then we went for a Sichuan meal i.e. hot and spicy. The fantastic meal was in a more modern restaurant. Here we had frog!

The next day we met Alison and Emma for a trip to the Temple. On walking out of the subway, we were overwhelmed by the smell of incense. We took the subway here and our friends reported the conversations that some soldiers on the subway had about us ‘foreigners’. They believed that we must be able to speak Chinese because we were using the subway system!

We returned to the centre of Beijing for a lunch meal with Fu Wong in a Muslim hotpot restaurant. This involves a burner in the middle of the table heating water in a ring around the burner. Into this go the makings of a soup - veg and meat - which is then cooked and it becomes the table meal, chopsticks in for the best bits - hot and sweaty, but great fun and absolutely delicious. Finally we went to the 'famous' silk market where we looked around the copies of the famous brands. I admit to picking up an 'Armani' coat - retailing in the UK at over £500 for a little over £11, following some stiff negotiation from the ladies, all in Chinese!


The following morning we were back to the airport for an internal flight to Xian (Shee-anne) to visit the Terracotta Warriors. On arrival we were keen to see the countryside, but the fog (smog really, because it tasted of sulphur) smoothed and blocked out everything. In the 48 hours we were in Xian the fog never lifted and the viewing distance varied from 200m to approx 750m at most. We were told this was normal for the city and it would stay for 4 months a year. We were also told that Xian is a small city with ‘only’ 8 million residents. That's the size of Los Angeles or London. We walked around to the city walls which are very impressive, covering a length of over 13kms and over 7m wide. Bikes were for hire to ride around the walls.

The following morning was a tour and we started at the Wild Goose Pagoda, a 10 storey temple and pagoda. From here we went to the hot springs where the emperors came to take the waters. Then we were taken to a restaurant and finally on to the Warriors.
Where to start? Facts and figures:-

  • There were originally over 8000 life size warriors with arms and armour, set up around the Emperor’s tomb to defend him in the afterlife.
  • Found only in 1974, the warriors had been damaged not long after being build after the death of the emperor; most had been damaged to some extent.
  • Approximately 1500 are now standing after being 'put back together'.
  • Many more lie too broken to repair.
  • Millions of people from China and abroad visit each year.


There are 4 main 'pits' or buildings to see in the complex. Pit 1 is the site of the original find and is where most of the repaired soldiers are. This pit is covered by a railway station-like arch roof and covers an area over twice the size of a football field - so big that the ever persistent fog was in the building! The first thing you see is three ranks of soldiers across the front of the building that you enter. Behind this are the 8 or 10 triple ranks that file backwards. Most of these have been repaired, going back 20 or so deep. Then you notice the horses and the difference between the soldiers. Slowly the immense size of what is missing begins to dawn and you realise that what is standing is a fraction of the total.

Pit 3 is the next visited and is the 'army' HQ. Here there are only some 20 soldiers standing with horses but this gives the opportunity to focus on single men. There are some to the far side that have not been repaired to show how the soldiers were found.

Next is Pit 2. This is small than pit 1 but still covers a large area, and is basically similar to Pit 1, but with far fewer soldiers repaired. Indeed this is more of an area that will be investigated by future teams.

Finally is the exhibition of the Emperor's chariots - or the few remaining bits.

We could have spent much more time here, but like all these tours they were a taster. Before flying off to Shanghai the following morning, we had a chance to visit both the bell tower and drum tower. Both had mini-concerts every hour of bells or drums.

Arriving in Shanghai was a strange experience; the city was more Western than we had thought, but was also more exuberant, livelier than anything that had gone before. We moved into our hotel and watched amazed at the traffic and lights across the city.

The following morning we had a half-day tour of the city, the gardens and tea house in the old town, the Bund with its 1930s European buildings and the new super tall buildings of Pudong across the river. The tour ended at the temple of the Jade Buddha. Here it was a special day and we were crowded in by the worshippers and breathed the incense - far better than the air of Xian. In the afternoon we spent going around the Shanghai Museum, a modern construction housing artefacts from all over China including clay pots going back over 7,000 years, bronzes going back over 6,000 years and jade carving over 4,000 years old.

The following morning we were on a train going to Hanghzou, a cross between a resort and a tourist attraction. We were picked up and taken to the hotel, followed by a tour of the pagoda, the lake and the Dragon Well tea plantation - this was another purchasing opportunity!

That evening we were met by more friends, Edith and Mr Ding, who again took us around the town and to dinner. We were never asked directly political questions - more questions about history and relationships between countries. But the same question was asked by all our new friends - which city have you liked best in China? This seemed quite important to all the questioners, so we became careful and said we had enjoyed each in different ways, but that we had enjoyed them all!


Back on the train the following morning, we arrived at our hotel and met the last friend of a friend. Wang Xu first took us out to the Pudong area to see the massive developments in the area that had occurred in the last 10 years. This was followed by a turn around a shopping mall followed by dinner which featured turtle, which was very nice! We ended the night having a couple of drinks in a rebuilt area of the city. It rained all day!

The final day started brightly so we returned with Wang Xu to Pudong to go to the 88 floor of the Jinmao tower. This took the lift/elevator just 35 seconds to go the 350m to the top. The views over the city were stunning, and yet in the middle of the tower was something incredible, an atrium of the Towers Hotel, from the 53rd floor to the 87th floor. We looked down on the 35 floors, stunned. Photos just don't do this justice...

We then went around some more shopping malls, and ended with a late lunch of noodles, similar to Hotpot, in that the ingredients went in at the diner's choice, at the table.
We returned to the hotel to pack and to take a leisurely evening, preparing for the inevitable rush on the plane. On leaving, we felt a sadness; for the friends that we wouldn't see for a while; for the loss of finding new and different tastes, views and way of living; for the loss of the attentive service in restaurants.

Certainly we saw some fantastic sights, met some wonderful people. Would we go back again - without a doubt, but next time I would be much happier to build the tours myself and make the flight/hotels bookings on my own.

Finally we can lay to rest those two myths - toilets in China and water. Toilets were much better than expected, not all the French style squat; most had paper and most weren't any worse than public toilets in the UK or USA. As for the water - don't drink it, but bottled water was supplied in all the hotels we stayed at, saving us from the Chinaman's churn...

First published in VISA issue 71 (Feb 2007)

Sunday, 22 February 2015

A Chinese Cameo

by Anne Rothwell

The slant-eyed Santas looked out of place, beaming at us from either side of the entrance to the Friendship Store. In the tourist haunts, we could have been in any western country, preparing for Christmas. Elsewhere of course, it was a different story. The ordinary populace of Beijing was not beguiled by our overindulgent yuletide.

The city was still unspoiled and strangely innocent. Traffic-wise, it was a relief. As private transport, the bike still ruled with parking lots filled with row upon row of them. The people wearing smog masks were not protecting themselves from traffic fumes, but from the ubiquitous 'Peking throat' which circulates continuously, aggravated by the very cold, dry air.

Eating was fun and cheap. On many street corners were stalls cooking a kind of huge pancake containing egg, spring onions and soy sauce, folded into four and handed to us in a paper holder: tasty and filling. The night-market food stalls were even better. At home, we’d never dream of eating in the street on winter nights, yet here in the north of China, in similar temperatures, we loved it. We walked from one end of the street to the other, tasting all manner of goodies. With portions at 7 or 8 pence each, it didn’t matter if we didn’t like it, and I balked at the skewered songbirds and scorpions. Carrying our own chopsticks, we moved along, throwing any leftovers in the bins provided by each stall.

Learning something about the people and their culture helped to increase our enjoyment of the usual tourist experiences. We watched the early morning Tai-chi in the park, the kite-flying, the older people playing Mah-Jong and Chinese chess or bursting into impromptu song. Their natural exuberance has returned since Mao’s repressive regime vanished and his little red books were relegated to the antique markets. We saw Mao’s embalmed body as everyone filed silently past in his mausoleum in Tianenmen Square and surely it’s only a matter of time before his huge portrait is removed from above the Gate of Heavenly Peace, fronting the Forbidden City.

First published in VISA issue 66 (April 2006)

Friday, 19 December 2014

Beijing and Beyond

by David Gourley




Cathy and I have been fortunate enough to visit many countries, but one which until recently never appealed was China. We have been to Tibet; this, of course, is part of the People’s Republic, but we didn’t see this as constituting a visit to China itself. All changed when we visited the Terracotta Warrior Exhibition at the British Museum. They were an amazing sight. It clicked with both of us simultaneously: we wanted to go and see the Warriors in their own abode, in Xian. A fellow visitor had done so and eulogized about the experience. So we wanted to go there all the more.

Having decided we’d go to China, we now had to find ourselves a trip. We investigated options available from mainstream tour companies. Then, at a travel fair, we stumbled across China Holidays, a company that deals exclusively with tours to that country. They were offering very similar holidays to the mainstream companies, using the same standard of hotel, yet the cost was significantly less. We booked with them a trip that took in Beijing, Guilin and Shanghai, as well as Xian, with an add-on couple of days in Hong Kong. They were always a pleasure to deal with, not something we have always found with the mainstreams.

‘I’d love to go to China if I could do it in an afternoon,’ mused Alan Bennett. Not, alas, an option. We continue greatly to enjoy visiting other countries but all too often getting there is no great fun: the days when air travel was associated with glamour have long gone. It was to be ten hours in steerage with BA. We consoled ourselves with lunch at Gordon Ramsey’s Plane Food restaurant in Terminal 5. I am no great fan of Mr R, being old-fashioned enough to think that people shouldn’t use four-letter words on TV, even after the watershed. But the meal was good and the staff friendly.

The flight took us to Russia and then roughly followed the route of the Trans-Siberian Railway (an unfulfilled ambition is to travel on that) across Mongolia and finally to Beijing. China is regarded as a developing country, yet one might not realize that if one confines one’s visit to Beijing. Its airport is the last word in modernity and our transfer into the city took us past many impressive hotels and high rise office buildings. Katie Melua informs us that there are ‘nine million bicycles in Beijing’, but the numerous vehicles that we saw were nearly all of the four-wheeled variety. It would be daft to say that it looked like a western city, especially with all the Chinese characters (though there is plenty of English language signage), but nor did it at all look like a Third World city. There was none of the searing poverty that one cannot help seeing in an Indian city, say. We only once saw a beggar; perhaps surprisingly, this was in Guilin. I will admit though that the places we went to were all very much on the tourist trail.

As usual we’d had hardly any sleep on our overnight flight and it would have been tempting to have gone straight to bed on reaching our hotel. Tempting but, we felt, unwise since we’d get out of kilter with local time. So we forced ourselves to stay awake until we’d had an early dinner, first taking ourselves to Tiananmen Square, which was a twenty minute walk away. This was at the very end of the celebrations that had marked the sixtieth anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic. The Square was thus still filled with various exhibits and there were decorative columns, each representing one of China’s ethnic groups. The great majority of its people are Han Chinese, but there are 55 minority groups so there were 56 columns.

It was of course the anniversary of a Communist revolution that was being celebrated. But I had the feel that the celebration was devoid of ideological content. One searches in vain in present-day China for socialistic propaganda. One will though find plenty of western-style advertising and if one is into designer labels – I’m not – one will find, in Beijing or Shanghai, just about every conceivable shop that is devoted to selling them. This is a regime which still calls itself Communist, but the economic system over which it presides looks suspiciously like capitalism to me.

The Square continues to be dominated by a huge portrait of Chairman Mao. If one wants – we didn’t – one can go and see his embalmed body in the nearby mausoleum. It might be objected that a ruthless dictator is thus being commemorated. He was responsible for the deaths of more people than Hitler or Stalin, he unleashed the horrors of the Cultural Revolution, he tyrannized Tibet. The regime, though, has effectively repudiated its Maoist inheritance and if, despite his atheism, he is somewhere looking down on modern China, he must wonder why he went to all the bother of overthrowing capitalism:
‘I didn’t make a Socialist Revolution so that people could eat at MacDonald’s or KFC, and wear Gucci or Prada.’

Still, Mao remains a hero and his portrait is unlikely to come down any time soon. It seems to me that the Chinese people are immensely proud of what their country has achieved in recent years, and credit his revolution with having made that possible. Millions have been lifted out of poverty. In Tiananmen Square above all one remembers that this is no democracy and that the regime is capable of being brutal to its opponents. There is frequent resort to capital punishment – but Texas also executes rather a lot of people. But I did not have the feeling that the average Chinese feels himself or herself to be oppressed by the regime. Figuratively speaking the Yalu River, which separates China from North Korea, is a thousand miles wide. China has far more in common with, and close ties to, South Korea.

In my formative years, the fifties and sixties, Red China, it is true, was regarded as a rather scary place. The protest singer Barry Maguire, in warning us that we were all ‘on the eve of destruction’, invited us to ‘think of all the hate there is in Red China’. Certainly we encountered no hate. On the contrary, this is one of the friendliest countries we have visited. Even the airport officials were welcoming. And when, by the way, did someone last call it ‘Red’ China?

Our touring started in earnest the next day. It was to be a busy couple of weeks with every day taken up with visits. The China Holidays local guides in all four of our cities were excellent. They all used western names: Jenny in Beijing was followed by Allen in Xian, Wendy in Guilin and Isobel in Shanghai. They told us their Chinese names as well but, a poor do, I didn’t commit these to memory. First Jenny took us back to Tiananmen Square, which is the largest city square in the world. For a bit extra we ascended to above Mao’s portrait for a grandstand view of the Square, an impressive sight. Then we explored the Forbidden City, so called because in bygone days ordinary people were not allowed in. Nowadays it is a museum, a huge and fascinating complex with no less than 980 surviving buildings. Not long after, a rather more distinguished couple than us were to be photographed here - Barack and Michele Obama.

Beyond the Forbidden City is Beihai Park. This is dominated by the striking White Dagoba atop its hill and is well worth the visitor’s time. However, we were going there for lunch. This was taken at the renowned Fangshan Restaurant. The cuisine is from the imperial era and the decor and costumes of the waiting staff reflect that. We had an excellent meal in exquisite surroundings. I’d looked previously at some internet reviews which were all favourable, apart from someone who opined that it was a tourist trap. But sometimes places are popular with tourists because they happen to be good.

All of our meals in mainland China were included and, breakfast apart, the cuisine was always Chinese and we used chopsticks. I managed, but not in any elegant manner. The meals were on the whole good and some were very good, like the Beijing Duck Dinner to be enjoyed later today and the Dumpling Banquet in Xian. This comprised sixteen types of dumplings, all beautifully crafted. So there was one with a walnut filling that resembled a walnut and another with a duck filling that resembled a duck. I don’t eat fish but nevertheless admired the one that looked like a fish, complete with tail fin and a pea for its eye. A couple of restaurants veered towards the other end of the quality scale. There was one in Shanghai where the waiting staff wore roller skates and there was a delightful dancing show performed by two young girls on skates. Pity the meal wasn’t up to much.

In the afternoon we headed a few miles northwest to visit another of the most well known attractions in Beijing, the Summer Palace. Some three quarters of its area is taken up by the Kunming Lake. Around it are beautiful walks and gardens with Longevity Hill dominating the scene. We made our way through the shoreside Long Gallery which is just that, a little short of 800 yards so one of the longest galleries in the world. We took a dragon boat back across the lake. In the evening, after dinner, we headed to another part of the city to watch the legend of Kung Fu, catching a glimpse en route of the Bird’s Nest, venue of the 2008 Olympics. London has a hard act to follow.

Next day we headed out of the city to see the Great Wall, pausing on the way to walk along the beautiful Sacred Way, lined with enormous statues, in pairs on either side, of various types of animal, and the Ming Tombs. One can go inside one of these: nothing much actually to see, but I suppose that’s not the point. The section of the Wall we visited, Badaling, is the most visited and some might object that it is also the most touristy. But again one might counter that places are sometimes popular with tourists because they happen to be good - very, very good in this instance.

One is actually, at Badaling, still within the city limits of Beijing, but one is in a different world altogether to the populated area. The Wall here snakes through superb mountain scenery and as a construction is itself, well, great. One can easily escape the crowds if one heads up the challengingly steep section running west but we opted for the easier, though still in places quite steep, walk in an easterly direction along the Wall. On our return, the friendly owner of a teashop was happy for us to sit inside waiting for others in our party, even though we weren’t partaking of any refreshments. In the end I succumbed to a Magnum ice cream.

On the following day we flew to Xian but first there was more of Beijing to see. We started with the exquisite Temple of Heaven, which was all the better for being seen against a cloudless blue sky. Generally we enjoyed excellent weather in China, our trip being in October which is regarded as one of the best times, weatherwise, to visit the country. In the surrounding parkland there were people doing their exercises. This tends to be a communal affair in China; one sees hardly any joggers. There was also, in a scene that would delight the BBC’s Choir master Gareth, a choir in full flow.

Our final visit was to the hutongs. These are the traditional single storey dwellings that once covered large areas of the capital. Sadly a lot of them have been demolished in recent decades but, before one condemns too loudly, one might reflect on the demolitions and brutalist architecture that have blighted our own country. Today there is a vigorous conservation movement.

We had a tour of the narrow and picturesque streets, partly in a rickshaw, under the auspices of local guide Victor. The Chinese are generally regarded as short people and, being six foot, I expected to be towering over them. In fact there are plenty of quite tall Chinese, more so in the north, and in Victor’s case I was at eye to eye level. Our visit to the Hutongs, and to Beijing, finished with lunch in one of them. It was cooked for us by the lady of the house, with us assisting in the preparation of the dumplings, and was delicious. She spoke no English, and we, I hardly need add, speak no Chinese, but we needed no translator to tell us that it was a pleasure for her to cook for us.

From Beijing we moved on to Xian. This involved the first of our three flights within mainland China. One doesn’t always hear great things about such flights but ours were OK and there were no delays. Our tour company times its excursions so that they are always before flights, not in jeopardy if there is any delay. Our hotel in Xian was Le Garden. A rather odd name, neither one thing nor t’other – why not The Garden or Le Jardin? But the name, in whatever language, was apt because it boasts a delightful Chinese style garden, something of an oasis in the rather nondescript area of high rises, located away from the historic centre, in which the hotel is located.

Our raison d’être for being in China was the terracotta warriors – though we found a fair few other good reasons for visiting the country. The warriors are located a dozen miles or so outside the city. We paused en route at the scenic Huaqing Hot Springs. To get from the coach park to the Warriors required a rather tedious walk of about fifteen minutes past any number of trading establishments. Even inside the main display hall, when one assumes one has left the commercialism behind for a while, someone thrust some postcards in front of us and invited us to buy them. One cannot and indeed should not prevent traders from plying their wares. After all they have, like you and I, their living to make. But I would have thought the authorities could put a stop to them carrying out their activities actually inside the exhibition area.

All this did not of course detract from the magnificent sight that was spread out before us. That overused word ‘awesome’ is for once apposite. This is very much work in progress which will last for many years to come, as archaeologists uncover more and more figures, work requiring the utmost care and precision as they scrape away the debris of centuries. The story is well known: how in 1974 a couple of local farmers stumbled across these life size statues that date back to 210 BC, the work of Qin Shi Huang, the first Emperor of China. They are still around and make their living by telling their tale though they are apparently somewhat resentful that all the glory, as they see it, goes to the archaeologists when it was their discovery that made the whole thing possible.

Virtually all visitors to Xian go there to see the Warriors but there is more to the city. I have mentioned the Huaqing Falls. On our return we went to see the Great Mosque. Offering as it does a fascinating blend of Chinese and Islamic architecture, it is nothing like one’s preconception of what a mosque should look like. On the following day, before moving on to Guilin, we visited the Big Goose Pagoda, which is what the city was best known for before they found the Warriors, and the city wall. Xian is unusual for a Chinese city in having its walls intact. They surround the historic centre and are remarkably wide. The energetic can walk or cycle right round them, the distance being some nine miles. In our case there was time for just a quick stroll, which took us from one of its towers to the next one.

Guilin is a pleasant city which has its own attractions but is above all known for the outstandingly beautiful scenery, created by distinctive karst mountains, that surrounds it. This might seem quintessentially Chinese but in fact one of the country’s 55 ethnic minorities, the Zhuang people, predominates here and we were in one of the five autonomous regions, which include, rather more controversially, Tibet. One is here getting fairly close to the Vietnamese border.

Our abode for the next two nights was the downtown Bravo Hotel, located on one of the city’s lakes. We attempted but failed to get ourselves moved to a lakeview room, these being apparently all taken, but were content with the room we did get, on the eleventh floor with a balcony. Much of the next day was spent doing a trip along the Li River, a journey of some sixty miles through the idyllic karst scenery, with the bonus that we had glorious weather. At the end of this excursion is the town of Yangshuo, which rather brings one down to earth. It is by no means unpleasant but it very commercialized and thus very much geared to the western tourist: on restaurant menus one is as likely to find lasagne or shephards pie (sic) as Chinese fare. There was not too much of this to be experienced for, after a quick stroll, we were transferred by road back to Gweilin. Here our excellent local guide, Wendy, managed to squeeze in one more attraction before dinner: Fubo Hill, which affords a splendid panorama of the city and its surrounds.

The day didn’t finish with dinner. We had a night-time boat trip through the city’s lakes. They are dramatically lit, all along their shores, by coloured illuminations, which make for a magnificent spectacle. Some of our more dogmatic environmentalists might object to the waste, as they might see it, of electricity, albeit low energy light bulbs are used. I am not of their ilk. I think we could all be consigned, if they had their way, to a very dreary existence, drab and austere with vegetarianism made compulsory and foreign travel frowned on. And I don’t know, nor indeed do I care, how many carbon footprints we expended flying out to China and back. Don’t get me wrong: I do care about the environment, take climate change seriously and like to think I do my bit towards saving the planet e.g. by recycling whatever I can. I have argued in these pages that we should to the maximum extent possible switch from air to rail and thus gradually phase out flights within mainland UK and to the near Continent. But freedom to travel is one of our most precious birthrights: we might be citizens of a particular state but we are also world citizens and the ability to experience other countries, other cultures, is to be prized and not given up (no-one after all jumped over the wall into East Berlin). And if one wishes to go to China, one must, unless there is the time and money to take the proverbial slow boat, go by plane. I am tired of environmentalists who try to make us feel guilty.

Getting back to Guilin, we greatly enjoyed our trip along the lakes, above all the cormorant fisherman. He was using a traditional fishing method in which trained cormorants are used to fish in rivers. The fishermen ties a snare near the base of the bird's throat which prevents it from swallowing larger fish, which are held in its throat, though smaller fish can be swallowed. When a cormorant catches a fish, the fisherman brings it back to the boat and has the bird spit the fish up. It is an enchanting scene. The fisherman does this for a living; if he can supplement his income by delighting tourists, that has to be good.

We continued the next day to our fourth and last city on the mainland, Shanghai, with visits, before finally taking our leave of Guilin, to the Reed Flute Caves, where, once again, lighting techniques are used to striking effect, illuminating the many and varied formations, and, a bit more prosaically, a silk factory where I bought a silk tie for £10. Serene and tranquil, adjectives that can justifiably be applied to the scenery around Guilin, are not often applied to Shanghai. On leaving the airport we were straight away caught in heavy traffic as we made our way into the centre. Isobel, our lovely local guide, wanted to find out about London’s congestion charge! She was very young, all of five foot nothing and just a tad bossy: ‘Come here, come here,’ she would instruct if she had something of interest to show us, and of course we obeyed.

If I have one criticism of our otherwise very good tour programme, it is that it did not include a visit to the Pudong Area, the area that lies across the River Huangpu (part of the mighty Yangtze) from the main centre. So we leapt at Isabel’s offer of an optional tour. A Shanghainese Rip Van Winkle simply wouldn’t recognize the place if he woke up today. Until twenty years ago it was mainly farmland and countryside. Now it is the financial hub of China. It’s skyline of high rise office buildings, above all the Oriental Pearl Tower (or TV Tower), has replaced the historic Bund, on the opposite side of the river, as the symbol of Shanghai.

This is a can-do city and the feel of raw energy in the air was almost tangible. Shanghai is not a place that cares to do things by halves. In the bad old days it adopted the most extreme form of Maoist Doctrine, as enunciated by the Gang of Four, three of whom were from Shanghai, the other being Madame Mao. Now it has adopted capitalism with some gusto. It has thrived and prospered as a result though in such a radical economic transition, there are bound to be some losers. If there is one thing above all that Shanghai doesn’t like, it is being outshone by Beijing. It had to put up with the fact that that city hosted the Olympics but at time of our visit it was preparing for its own chance to dance on the world stage, Expo 2010. We drove past the construction site on our way back to the airport.

Whilst in Pudong we ascended the 101-floor World Financial Center. There was at this time a building in Taiwan that was taller still but the Center boasted the world’s highest observation platform. This stretches between the building’s two towers and in places the floor is of glass. After dinner in a nearby restaurant, we did a river cruise which showed us Shanghai by night. Here we could contrast the Pudong on the one side with the Bund running along the other bank. The visitor might be reminded of Liverpool. That may sound an odd thing to say but the two ports consider themselves sister cities and the Bund’s European-style buildings were inspired by the fine architecture of downtown Liverpool with its Three Graces. There continue to be close ties between the two cities: the entrance to Liverpool’s Chinatown is graced by an arch given by the people of Shanghai.


We at last repaired to our hotel. We had upgraded to the five-star Le Meridien, located on pedestrianized Nanjing Road West, one of the city’s main shopping thoroughfares. We had a room high up which was so designed that, from our two windows, we could look either east or west, with a fine vista of the city, the towers of Pudong being just visible. A walk of twenty minutes or so in one direction along the thoroughfare took one to the Bund and in the other to People’s Square. This was formerly the site of the city’s racecourse but, after the 1949 Revolution, it was too bourgeois for the liking of the Communists so it had to go. But when China took over Hong Kong, it assured its citizens that ‘horses will still race’: the Happy Valley Racecourse, therefore, is still going strong.

We had a full day city tour the next day, taking in various attractions, including the Old Town, something of an oasis amidst all the modernity, and the Shanghai Museum, of which the city is rather proud. It opened in its present location in 1996 and is spacious and well-designed, with eleven galleries that span the millennia of Chinese history. It has a collection of over 120,000 pieces. We had just two hours so cannot say we did it full justice. The final day of our tour took us on an excursion to Suzhou which is some sixty miles away. Shanghai is, of course, one of the world’s mega-cities and the view was urban virtually all the way, with Isobel a couple of times managing to find a surviving rice paddy to point out to us. Suzhou markets itself as the Venice of the Orient, but this is overegging things somewhat: it has not escaped modernization and the centre is nothing special. But it is certainly worth a day or two of the visitor’s time. It really does have canals and we enjoyed a delightful cruise passing traditional Chinese dwellings. The city is also known for its many beautiful gardens. We visited two of these: the Fish Net, which is the smallest, and the Humble Administrator’s, which is the largest and is very impressive. The latter includes a bonsai garden and Isobel took pleasure in informing us that bonsai originated in China, with the Japanese being mere upstarts in this regard.


We had tacked on an extra day in Shanghai, as we were meeting up with some friends whose jobs have taken them there, first enjoying the chance to relax a bit after a holiday that had been very busy, though thoroughly enjoyable. We then had a two-night add on in Hong Kong. In respect of mainland China, this article has been very positive. It might even be said that it has been glowing. Hong Kong, I fear, is a different kettle of fish. It is maybe a bit like Marmite, with some loving it and others not loving it. I happen rather to like Marmite but with regard to Hong Kong, my views veer in the opposite direction.

Our choice of travel guide books is normally either Lonely Planet or the Insight Guides. Whereas the former generally gives a ‘warts and all’ view, the latter, I rather think, is a bit more into promoting the given destination and their guide to Hong Kong does indeed extol its virtues. Yet even it concedes that ‘visitors complain that the people are brusque to the point of rudeness’ (yes, it was a surly individual who transferred us on arrival at the airport to our bus into town) and that they are the ‘most business-minded, materialistic, competitive and restless population on the planet’ (I suspect that’s true and it doesn’t produce a place of any great charm). We again upgraded our hotel, this time to the Peninsula, which is considered a world-class hotel. Even this somehow lacks charm. We have been fortunate enough to stay at comparable hotels elsewhere – Raffles in Singapore, the Oriental in Bangkok, the Nelson in Cape Town – and the Peninsula simply doesn’t compare in terms of atmosphere. (Please don’t think that because, very occasionally, we push the boat out and stay at a top hotel, we are one of the ‘filthy rich’. Ours is not a champagne lifestyle but, just occasionally, we treat ourselves to a sip.) Materialism rears its head. The reception area is crammed with shops and there was nowhere for us to sit in comfort when, at the end of our stay, we awaited our bus to the airport. Yes, of course other hotels have shops but generally these are discreetly located whereas here they are in your face. Their afternoon tea is supposed to be legendary, but we had had a far better one a few weeks before in a hotel in Berkshire! Nearby Nathan Road, one of Hong Kong’s main thoroughfares, is a strange and rather unappealing mix of the upmarket and the tacky.

The Peninsula is in Kowloon, the bit of Hong Kong which is on the Chinese mainland. We took the ferry across the Harbour to Hong Kong Island. Again the Marmite factor comes into play. Some eulogize this as one of the finest harbours anywhere in the world. All I could see was a mass of not very attractive tall buildings.

I am by no means against tall buildings: those in Shanghai do have a certain style and attractiveness whereas those in Hong Kong don’t, in my opinion. I might throw in New York as well and the marvellous spectacle of Manhattan viewed from the Staten Island Ferry. We took the Peak Tram. This sounded romantic, but it’s actually a rather ordinary funicular and one walks out at the top into a large concourse surrounded by tourist tat. Because we’d paid a supplement, we could go up one floor where the tat is left behind and one at last gets a view. But this was a case of seeing all those unlovely high rises from a different perspective. We also did two circular bus tours and with time limited we didn’t avail ourselves of the ability to get on and off. However there was nothing we saw that made us wish we had the time to go back. So, I didn’t love Hong Kong. But we were not sorry we went. It had still been interesting. And it came at the end of what had otherwise been a fantastic travel experience.

First published in VISA 90-91 (Apr-Jun 2010)