So for 80 yuan (around $11) each we had a river-rafting experience that would probably give PETA a heart attack. We enjoyed it, but I have to say the little inflated arms were a bit creepy.
Your days are numbered, sheep...
Showing posts with label traveling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label traveling. Show all posts
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Sheep Skin Rafts
In a recent bit of desert-themed traveling with Nissa, we visited Shapotou, a place that could only be described as a "desert theme park" outside of the small city of Zhongwei, Ningxia province. Shapotou is an area of natural beauty where the desert meets the Yellow River, and naturally has been turned into a ticketed tourist attraction outfitted with a zip line, camel and horse riding, sand dune sledding, dune buggies, a ski lift, and sheep skin rafting. We opted for the sheep skin rafting, which is just as bizarre as the name implies:
So for 80 yuan (around $11) each we had a river-rafting experience that would probably give PETA a heart attack. We enjoyed it, but I have to say the little inflated arms were a bit creepy.
Your days are numbered, sheep...
So for 80 yuan (around $11) each we had a river-rafting experience that would probably give PETA a heart attack. We enjoyed it, but I have to say the little inflated arms were a bit creepy.
Your days are numbered, sheep...
Monday, February 04, 2008
Yunnan and Hong Kong Travels
I've just completed almost a month of traveling with my girlfriend Nissa, and rather than writing a lengthy post about it, I thought I'd select a few pictures and just make some brief comments.
Not far from Lijiang lies Tiger Leaping Gorge, which boasts some of the most beautiful natural scenery I have ever seen. The first part of the hike was a strenuous 7 1/2 hour day that at times taunted our inadequate physiques.
A change of scenery and some long-awaited tropical atmosphere in Jinghong (景洪), southern Yunnan. It is the major city of the area known as Xishuangbanna (西双版纳), a taste of southeast Asia and minority culture not far from the Laos border.
I'm often unimpressed by the food when traveling when I compare it to what I know and love in Zhangye, but Yunnan delivered. The cafes of Jinghong serve some delicious and unique Dai minority dishes.
In Xishuangbanna there is a Wild Elephant Valley, a protected area home to around 50 elephants. The entrance was a bit off-putting, with fake minority performances, a deer chained to a tree, and a bear in a muzzle for the entertainment of the tour groups. However, the jungle trail was pleasant and we anxiously awaited the possibility of seeing the elephants.
We opted to stay overnight in the unique tree houses in the middle of the jungle. It was remarkably peaceful, as we were the only visitors to stay there. The short and smartly-dressed hotel keeper told us that our luck must not have been good that day, as we had just missed some elephants who had come down to the pool. She promised to inform us if they spotted any more elephants.
After a short time, luck was with us. We saw the friendly hotel keeper racing up the stairs from the staff building on the ground towards our tree house. Two elephants had been seen, and she guided us down the path towards the spot. We watched in fascination as the mother and son, who were soon joined by the father, lounged in a muddy pool and drank their fill for an hour or so. The father had a less than graceful moment while attempting to walk across a thin tree trunk, and fell hard onto his stomach. Eventually they crashed their way back into the woods, but we spotted them again in the pool beneath our tree house as it became dark. We watched and listened for a long time but they were still out there drinking when we went to bed. It was certainly one of the highlights of the trip.
If you get a little outside of Jinghong or any of the other small cities in the area, it is a good opportunity to see some of China's minority cultures still living a fairly traditional lifestyle. The dominant group of the area is the Dai (傣族). Traditional Dai houses, far and away more appealing than the gray and lifeless modern housing of Chinese cities, generally are supported on stilts so that livestock (or apparently in some cases, a car) can be stored underneath the home.
The Dai are Buddhists, and their temples bore a strong resemblance to those I had seen in Thailand and Cambodia.
On our last day in Jinghong, we decided to go for one last bike ride outside the city in search of Dai villages. As luck would have it, a local Chinese high school boy with the English name Alan was renting a bike at the same time as us and was happy to become an improvised guide to the area. He took us to some villages that were closer than we expected and that we had already completely overlooked, and we were invited into the home of his Dai classmate in the first village. The room we saw was quite simple and without furniture or electric light, though we were given low stools and there was a television and refrigerator, neither in use. We took Alan to dinner as thanks at the end of the day.
We were reluctant to leave the Banna area, and we disliked the next brief destination, Guangzhou, in almost every way (other than its free delivery Papa John's pizza). Actually, we didn't really see the city, as we spent the day frantically organizing our onward transportation. China has been hit by its worst winter weather in 50 years right at the time when the whole country goes home to celebrate the Chinese New Year, which has spelled a disaster of such proportions that it's gotten decent coverage in the Western media, even the cover of Time Magazine. At the time we didn't know anything about this, and were surprised to find a scene at the train station resembling a refugee camp in a war zone. Later when we read the Chinese news we saw Guangzhou's train station specifically mentioned as holding 150,000 or more migrant workers who were spending days there waiting for the chance to go home to see their families. We worked it out, but unfortunately for my budget it involved plane tickets.
We found Macau, on the other hand, to be an extraordinarily likable and unique city. Its years as a Portuguese colony (under more harmonious circumstances than long-time British colony Hong Kong, it seems) have given it a pleasant European feel and lovely architecture, churches in particular. Though an expensive destination by our standards (it's also a massive gambling center increasingly on par with Las Vegas), the food was good and the city unusually clean and organized. It was a fun place to simply walk around, window shop, and enjoy free samples from the bakeries.
Unique incense sticks at a temple dedicate to the sea goddess A-Ma.
Our last destination was Hong Kong. It was a good choice for the last stop in that it's an exciting, world-class city that we had looked forward to seeing, but bad in that it was outrageously and stupendously expensive on our Zhangye salaries. The highlight for me was a fantastic Cantonese restaurant we stumbled into randomly. I never thought eel could be so delicious. Coming from the mainland, Hong Kong is shocking in its cleanliness, level of organization, diversity, and English ability. A bizarre thing happened every time we paused on the street while trying to find something: a local would immediately stop and assist in flawless English, oftentimes physically taking us to where we wanted to go to make sure we found it. This happened no less than 10 or 12 times, and when in doubt we learned to stop, look confused, and wait. This never happens on the mainland, where locals and even those in the service industry tend to be impressively ill-informed and though often friendly, will never approach you on the street on the (very reasonable) assumption that you don't speak any Chinese. As neither of us speak a word of Cantonese, we were able to take a break from Mandarin and enjoy being a world of fluent English again. Unfortunately for the earnest mainland English students who eternally ask us "how can I improve my English?", the best answer seems to be "let your city become the colony of a Western power for 150 years or so."
A familiar face in Chengdu.
About two weeks were spent in Yunnan province, including Lijiang, renowned for its picturesque streets, surrounding mountain scenery, and unique Naxi minority culture. It is getting a bit Disney Land-esque and is a shadow of its former self (as evidenced by reading Peter Goullart's fantastic Forgotten Kingdom), but still an enjoyable visit.
Not far from Lijiang lies Tiger Leaping Gorge, which boasts some of the most beautiful natural scenery I have ever seen. The first part of the hike was a strenuous 7 1/2 hour day that at times taunted our inadequate physiques.
The view from our guesthouse. US$15 for a pleasant double room on a mountaintop. The second day of hiking was much shorter and less exhausting than the first.
A change of scenery and some long-awaited tropical atmosphere in Jinghong (景洪), southern Yunnan. It is the major city of the area known as Xishuangbanna (西双版纳), a taste of southeast Asia and minority culture not far from the Laos border.
I'm often unimpressed by the food when traveling when I compare it to what I know and love in Zhangye, but Yunnan delivered. The cafes of Jinghong serve some delicious and unique Dai minority dishes.
In Xishuangbanna there is a Wild Elephant Valley, a protected area home to around 50 elephants. The entrance was a bit off-putting, with fake minority performances, a deer chained to a tree, and a bear in a muzzle for the entertainment of the tour groups. However, the jungle trail was pleasant and we anxiously awaited the possibility of seeing the elephants.
We opted to stay overnight in the unique tree houses in the middle of the jungle. It was remarkably peaceful, as we were the only visitors to stay there. The short and smartly-dressed hotel keeper told us that our luck must not have been good that day, as we had just missed some elephants who had come down to the pool. She promised to inform us if they spotted any more elephants.
After a short time, luck was with us. We saw the friendly hotel keeper racing up the stairs from the staff building on the ground towards our tree house. Two elephants had been seen, and she guided us down the path towards the spot. We watched in fascination as the mother and son, who were soon joined by the father, lounged in a muddy pool and drank their fill for an hour or so. The father had a less than graceful moment while attempting to walk across a thin tree trunk, and fell hard onto his stomach. Eventually they crashed their way back into the woods, but we spotted them again in the pool beneath our tree house as it became dark. We watched and listened for a long time but they were still out there drinking when we went to bed. It was certainly one of the highlights of the trip.
If you get a little outside of Jinghong or any of the other small cities in the area, it is a good opportunity to see some of China's minority cultures still living a fairly traditional lifestyle. The dominant group of the area is the Dai (傣族). Traditional Dai houses, far and away more appealing than the gray and lifeless modern housing of Chinese cities, generally are supported on stilts so that livestock (or apparently in some cases, a car) can be stored underneath the home.
The Dai are Buddhists, and their temples bore a strong resemblance to those I had seen in Thailand and Cambodia.
On our last day in Jinghong, we decided to go for one last bike ride outside the city in search of Dai villages. As luck would have it, a local Chinese high school boy with the English name Alan was renting a bike at the same time as us and was happy to become an improvised guide to the area. He took us to some villages that were closer than we expected and that we had already completely overlooked, and we were invited into the home of his Dai classmate in the first village. The room we saw was quite simple and without furniture or electric light, though we were given low stools and there was a television and refrigerator, neither in use. We took Alan to dinner as thanks at the end of the day.
We were reluctant to leave the Banna area, and we disliked the next brief destination, Guangzhou, in almost every way (other than its free delivery Papa John's pizza). Actually, we didn't really see the city, as we spent the day frantically organizing our onward transportation. China has been hit by its worst winter weather in 50 years right at the time when the whole country goes home to celebrate the Chinese New Year, which has spelled a disaster of such proportions that it's gotten decent coverage in the Western media, even the cover of Time Magazine. At the time we didn't know anything about this, and were surprised to find a scene at the train station resembling a refugee camp in a war zone. Later when we read the Chinese news we saw Guangzhou's train station specifically mentioned as holding 150,000 or more migrant workers who were spending days there waiting for the chance to go home to see their families. We worked it out, but unfortunately for my budget it involved plane tickets.We found Macau, on the other hand, to be an extraordinarily likable and unique city. Its years as a Portuguese colony (under more harmonious circumstances than long-time British colony Hong Kong, it seems) have given it a pleasant European feel and lovely architecture, churches in particular. Though an expensive destination by our standards (it's also a massive gambling center increasingly on par with Las Vegas), the food was good and the city unusually clean and organized. It was a fun place to simply walk around, window shop, and enjoy free samples from the bakeries.
Unique incense sticks at a temple dedicate to the sea goddess A-Ma.
Our last destination was Hong Kong. It was a good choice for the last stop in that it's an exciting, world-class city that we had looked forward to seeing, but bad in that it was outrageously and stupendously expensive on our Zhangye salaries. The highlight for me was a fantastic Cantonese restaurant we stumbled into randomly. I never thought eel could be so delicious. Coming from the mainland, Hong Kong is shocking in its cleanliness, level of organization, diversity, and English ability. A bizarre thing happened every time we paused on the street while trying to find something: a local would immediately stop and assist in flawless English, oftentimes physically taking us to where we wanted to go to make sure we found it. This happened no less than 10 or 12 times, and when in doubt we learned to stop, look confused, and wait. This never happens on the mainland, where locals and even those in the service industry tend to be impressively ill-informed and though often friendly, will never approach you on the street on the (very reasonable) assumption that you don't speak any Chinese. As neither of us speak a word of Cantonese, we were able to take a break from Mandarin and enjoy being a world of fluent English again. Unfortunately for the earnest mainland English students who eternally ask us "how can I improve my English?", the best answer seems to be "let your city become the colony of a Western power for 150 years or so."
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting
During my trip to Ningxia I visited the provincial museum in Yinchuan, which included an exhibit about Hui culture. The Hui are one of China's national minorities and Ningxia is their "autonomous region," a province in which an ethnic minority is theoretically given a lot of control in the provincial government (Tibet is also an autonomous region). There are plenty of Hui in Zhangye, and though quite assimilated into Han Chinese culture they are distinguished by the practice of Islam and the distinctive white hats worn by the men. Part of the fun of Chinese museums is reading the captions, which tend to have a very Chinese flavor to them:
And of the many pictures chosen to represent Hui culture, my favorite was definitely this one:
And of the many pictures chosen to represent Hui culture, my favorite was definitely this one:
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Daytrip to Inner Mongolia; or, "At the Ends of the Earth"
This week I spent exactly one day in Inner Mongolia (a northern province or more accurately "autonomous region" in China, not Mongolia the country), in a town called Bayan Hot (or 巴音 Bāyīn in Chinese). I live in a fairly remote city, but this really felt like heading out into the middle of absolute nowhere. It was a journey of close to three hours to the city, the last half of which being through pure, desolate desert with almost no signs of civilization. It's a small place that I knew little about besides it being in Inner Mongolia, the main inspiration for going.
Besides the slow pace of life and a chance to see Mongolian writing on all the signs, the town provided one of the ample opportunities to view the dichotomies and contradictions of modern China. Immediately outside the town limits, one can see the traditional clay and brick housing common in northwest China:
Mere streets away, inside the town, I was a little taken aback when I turned a corner and saw this modern monstrosity of a building:
This stadium could clearly hold the entire population of the town, and seemed a bit out of place, as well as ill-used. I asked a couple of locals and they said it was already closed for the winter but in the warmer months they hold art shows and the like. I've read that the provincial government is prone to flashy displays of development in lieu of more practical spending, and a 60,000 capacity stadium has been built in provincial capital Hohhot that with the exception of the opening celebrations is unlikely to fill up. In the near total-silence of this small town it felt a bit surreal to stand in front of it, like an apocalyptic future in which most of the population had been wiped out. Near total-silence is surreal in China anyway.
The main attraction of the town is a Mongolian temple, which was similar in style to others I've seen as many Mongolians practice Tibetan Buddhism. One monk who I guessed to be in his 30's had an obvious affinity for Westerners, and once he discovered I could speak Chinese quickly engaged me in conversation. This turned into a fast-paced and passionate 40 minute lecture about his thoughts on the society around him that fascinated me as much as it gave me a headache; he didn't pause much and I could only catch around 30% of what he said. The main idea was that he's become greatly disappointed in the loss of basic decency and morals that has accompanied fast economic growth. He thinks people in China are interested in money, success, and the approval of others at the cost of everything else. Though he said there are still decent, honest Chinese people around, the whole society is promoting economic success as the be-all and end-all of life, and it's wrong. He also is disappointed in the attitude towards Mongolians like himself; he told me they are seen as stupid, slow and uncouth by many Chinese, and they aren't truly understood. It's true that almost every time ethnic minorities come up during conversation with a Han Chinese friend they have used the word 野蛮 yěmán, which means "barbarous" or "uncivilized" and have made several disparaging remarks (generally students, who also claim during class that there is no discrimination in China). This disillusionment with society inspired him to become a monk two years ago. He hoped I would learn Mongolian and travel to Mongolia proper someday, an idea I've toyed with anyway (the traveling part at least).
I've noticed a pattern of minorities opening up to foreigners in China, whether it was Uyghurs in Xinjiang or Tibetans in Qinghai. I suppose complaints to Han Chinese would often fall on indifferent or even hostile ears (I've heard comments like "those minorities, always complaining; they have it good enough") and we provide a fresh and interested source of conversation that is outside the system. The Chinese tourists walking past us during my talk with the monk paid little attention, the only exceptions being a student who giggled and wanted to ask me where I was from, and a woman who interrupted to ask the monk if she could take pictures. I think images of Confucian scholars and Tang poetry had given me the impression of the Chinese as quite thoughtful and spiritual, which wasn't necessarily on the mark. Whatever other virtues modern Chinese society has I wouldn't put deep spirituality at the top of the list, and famous temples are pure tourist attractions with guys in their new cowboy hats taking pictures of their girlfriend while she gives the "V" sign and smiles (more on that soon).
After leaving the monk I took a bus back to Yinchuan, and on the way out saw this billboard:
After leaving the monk I took a bus back to Yinchuan, and on the way out saw this billboard:
富民是第一目标
和谐是第一任务
roughly translated:
Development is the #1 duty
Enriching the people is the #1 goal
Harmony is the #1 mission
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Ningxia Travels I: Capitalism Run Amok, Pyramids in China
It is time again for the National Day Holiday in China, a time for the Chinese to reflect upon the founding of their socialist republic and the myriad way it has improved their lives. And what would make the dear Chairman prouder on the anniversary of his establishment of Communist China than sales, sales, sales!
I particularly like the man in the gorilla costume, let's see a close-up of that:
As much fun as I'm having otherwise (is that a pizza buffet??) one of the main reasons to come to one of China's smallest and most obscure provinces is for a bit of history, in the form of thousand-year old pyramid-like tombs left by the Xixia kingdom. These are the centerpiece of the few remains of this fearsome and somewhat mysterious kingdom which at times rivaled the Chinese dynasties of the day, but was destined to be destroyed by Genghis Khan and the Mongols. In their heyday they controlled a sizeable piece of northwest China, including Zhangye.
I particularly like the man in the gorilla costume, let's see a close-up of that:
I've been in the city of Yinchuan for the start of the holiday and more than the pleasant museum and tranquil pagodas I can't help but notice the capitalist orgy taking place on the streets. Need a Nokia phone? A wedding dress? In the mood for audience participation, games, prizes, karaoke, or just silly dancing? The streets of a Chinese shopping district during a holiday are the place to be. Despite the sarcasm I do actually enjoy the oral assault and chaos you sometimes get in China, especially when I know I have a small, relatively sleepy city to return to. There is something to be said for the sight of adults old enough to have been through the Cultural Revolution giggling and fighting over the chance to thrown plastic rings at cell phones for a prize. Even during normal times Chinese stores know how to open or remodel in a grand way--giant inflatable archways, confetti, firecrackers, and for the really ambitious, cannons. Inevitably there is a also a mammoth stereo system playing upbeat pop or a stage with live karaoke singing.
As much fun as I'm having otherwise (is that a pizza buffet??) one of the main reasons to come to one of China's smallest and most obscure provinces is for a bit of history, in the form of thousand-year old pyramid-like tombs left by the Xixia kingdom. These are the centerpiece of the few remains of this fearsome and somewhat mysterious kingdom which at times rivaled the Chinese dynasties of the day, but was destined to be destroyed by Genghis Khan and the Mongols. In their heyday they controlled a sizeable piece of northwest China, including Zhangye.
In the end the real reason I came to Ningxia province is because no one else wants to. Traveling to and from a popular destination during a Chinese national holiday is between very difficult and a nightmare and only those with extensive experience in China can appreciate the feeling I had when I bought an overnight sleeper ticket for the train in less than four minutes. I also appreciate being simply a novelty rather than a target for harassment by vendors.
It rained heavily at the park today, and a group of us found shelter and entertainment listening to an elderly musician in a pavilion, which I probably enjoyed more than any of the ticketed attractions around town. Many curious locals have come up to talk to me and find out why I'm here; on hearing I was American one woman remarked "but aren't Americans black? Your skin is so white!" For the thousandth time a woman encouraged her shy child to "say hello to the American uncle!" and a woman suggested the violinist "play a song for our foreign friend over there." If willing conversation partners are one of the keys to learning a language, China might well be one of the best countries in the world to do it.
It rained heavily at the park today, and a group of us found shelter and entertainment listening to an elderly musician in a pavilion, which I probably enjoyed more than any of the ticketed attractions around town. Many curious locals have come up to talk to me and find out why I'm here; on hearing I was American one woman remarked "but aren't Americans black? Your skin is so white!" For the thousandth time a woman encouraged her shy child to "say hello to the American uncle!" and a woman suggested the violinist "play a song for our foreign friend over there." If willing conversation partners are one of the keys to learning a language, China might well be one of the best countries in the world to do it.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Sichuan Travels
Finishing off my summer travels (in my usual timely fashion), I'll very briefly write about the end of the summer holiday when me and Danielle traveled through Sichuan on the way back to Gansu. The first destination was Zigong, which I chanced upon an interesting description of (at www.holachina.net). It was larger and more modern than what I had imagined, but it was a likable city with some noteworthy ancient buildings and a fun dinosaur museum. At the Wangye Temple I had my first and so far only proper teahouse experience, which was quite enjoyable but does not necessarily make for a exciting story.
Next we set up base in Chengdu and made a day trip to Leshan, a city renowned for having the largest Buddha statue in the world. It was worth braving the crowds to see the Buddha and the rest of the grounds were both attractive and practically deserted.
Chengdu was the last stop before returning to Zhangye. Three years ago I doubt I had even heard of Chengdu, but it is among the largest cities in China with a population of 11 million. Chengdu has all the hallmarks of modernity one would expect in such a large city, our chief interests being pizza and Western-owned bars with great music. Many large Chinese cities rub me the wrong way but I would include Chengdu along with Shanghai and Xi'an in the short list of big Chinese cities I could live in.
One of my favorite moments in Chengdu was in the square in the evening, with the giant Mao statue paternally watching over us. The square is undergoing major renovation including a stop on the city's upcoming subway system, and is now outfitted with a fountain system that by Danielle's account wasn't there last year. It's a flashy fountain with jets of water that dance and shift unexpectedly, but the real fun of it was watching the locals' immense joy over the fountain. Children and college students (who have their childish streaks anyway) got the greatest kick out of running up to the fountain and running away when the water shifted and sprayed them, with amused adults watching on. I'm not sure Americans could muster quite so much enthusiasm over a fountain, and it's often for the simplest of reasons that I love being around the Chinese.
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