Sunday 4th November, 2007 – Zhengzhou to Xi’an

Above: outside my modest hotel in Xi’an.

Well, last night I managed to re-arrange the packing. I put most of the tea into one of the boxes, which I then put in turn in a carrier bag. On enquiring, Shuai had discovered that the airline will allow me that in addition to my briefcase, which of course has my laptop in it. I placed another tin of tea, in its original box, in the suitcase, surrounded by “smalls” to pad it out. And - following a flash of inspiration - I left the final tin on my bedside table, with a thank-you note, for the cleaning ladies. [Tipping is not done in China, and if I had left money they would have been highly embarrassed.]

This morning I skipped breakfast. My car was due to pick me up at 7.30, and I didn’t really want anything. So I just had orange juice and some tea. After I’d checked out, and while I was waiting in the lobby for my driver, one of the receptionists called over to me in rather agitated tones. Something about my room. She was speaking in English of a sort, but it was some time before it dawned on me that they were worried because I’d left some tea behind! You can’t win, can you? With a bit of struggling in a mixture of English, Chinese and sign language, I think I got them to understand that: a) I already had sufficient; b) there was no room in my luggage for any more; c) I’d like them to have some as a gift.

The haze has returned. I’m relenting slightly about calling it “smog”; giving it the benefit of the doubt, since the past week has been so glorious.

The journey to the airport was in one of those swish black cars with tinted windows that the party- and local-government officials tend to cruise around in. One of Shuai’s colleagues came as well, to help with any problems I might have at the check-in desk arising from the fact that the flight-time had been changed twice since my tickets had been issued. (There was no problem, in fact).

On the way we encountered the usual traffic-mayhem, especially in the congested outskirts of the city. On and off throughout my trip I’ve been pondering as to why it is so bad. I may have said it before, but it’s as though once they get onto the roads and streets, Chinese people lose all traces of common-sense. This is unlike the west, where what is lost is not so much common-sense as consideration for other road-users. Here, there is no real aggression. (Although there is virtually continuous horn-sounding - even when it is plainly unnecessary. Para-phrasing from Peter Hessler’s “River town”, it seems to be essentially an unconscious reflex action; so ever-present that people have become essentially deaf to it. Therefore it has lost all purpose. Amen to that!)

Here, even vulnerable cyclists will venture blithely out in front of a hurtling juggernaut (or its equivalent), in the full knowledge that they will be OK. Usually they are. Sadly, some are not. Why are they like this? The only logical explanation I could come up with is their Buddhist culture. According to the Zen teaching, there is no past or future – just present. The over-riding principle is live for the moment. So is the reason for the chaos the fact that people don’t (or can’t) look ahead? It almost seems that way. I have a good deal of respect for Zen: we often waste time worrying about what has gone, and about which we can do nothing; and what may or may not happen in the future, so that we miss what is happening in front of our eyes. But, taken to extremes, it is clearly a perilous philosophy!

By contrast, the motorway was a haven of tranquillity; essentially brand-new, and almost deserted except for us. It is a toll road, after all. I was mildly amused by the English translations of some of the public-safety notices you see. Here are some examples:

“No drunken driving” (well, er, no: not a good idea is it?). “Buckle up” (which so far I have seen nobody but nobody doing; to the extent that, I’m ashamed to say, even I did not, since I felt it would appear too “girlie”! Yet here, of all places, surely is vital.)

Finally, there was; “Driving while fatigued forbidden”.

The flights to Beijing and then down to Xi’an were trouble-free. I had a window seat on the second leg, and wished I hadn’t left my camera buried in my briefcase in the overhead locker. The route takes you over what seems like endless ranges of mountains – mainly brownish in colour, as is most of the lanscape. The view down to the ground was severely hampered by the haze; the same haze had followed us all the way from Zhengzhou. We flew over rnge after rangel of rugged brown mountains. Then as we drew nearer to Xi'an the landscape changed markedly. It was still more or less brown, but now we seemed to be over a vast plateau. Itappeared to be perfectly flat as far as the eye could see. But it was puctuated with countless features that looked like scars or crevasses. I suppose these must be river valleys. Or some of them could at a pinch be archaelogical sites, with which this region is seemingly littered. The whole scene gave the appearance of having once been a mountainour area. But now it was just as though some great giant had sliced the tops of cleanly with a modelling knife. The flat upland areas were mostly cultivated, as far as I could tell. The brown colour would be the remains of the summer's harvest. Then I saw huge terraced areas, carved and sculpted from the slopes of the valleys. The scale of this man-made re-shaping of the land was truly breathtaking: these were on a massive scale, appearing to go on forever. Of course all this was impeded by the smog - as I am now convinced it is. It was as though we were skimming above a grey sea. We could glimpse the "sea-bed" dimly through the mirky waters, but much of the detail was blurred.

On arriving at Xi'an I was met by an eager Liu Chi. She is a former PhD student of one of my colleagues in Manchester. A lovely person. She has a son about the same age as our Pete.

Xi’an is a spectacularly beautiful city – especially the old part, inside the massive city walls; and especially by night:

Above: Liu Chi with yours truly; the Bell Tower is in the background.

This was after we’d eaten at a typical Xi’an restaurant, of course:

Above: I couldn’t begin to tell you what everything was, but it wasn’t half good. But we hadn’t realised quite how much we’d ordered – half of it went home with Chi in doggy-bags!

And a few more pretty sights. This is Xi’an’s Muslim Quarter:

Finally, have a peak at my room. It’s a bit more spacious than the JinJiang in Zhengzhou. On the other hand, the internet connection isn’t free of charge!





The Hyatt Regency is also a lot less personal, although helpful enough, and efficient. Of course it is a corporate hotel, catering for an international tourist and business clientelle. But, for example, at breakfast there would be almost more staff than guests, constantly hovering about, waiting to whip away an empty plate at the first indication you may have finished with it. I prefer to be left to eat in peace. On reflection, I liked the friendly JinJiang Inn better, with it's jolly team of lovely local staff. And their internet was free.

Well, it’s another big day tomorrow – off to see the famous warriors.

Night.