Goodbye Mao, Hello Borat

Mike: It turns out that China is a lot harder to leave than it is to get into. When we applied for our Chinese visas in Bangkok, filling out forms in triplicate and then waiting around for days before forking over a hundred dollars each to have our passports adorned with the official stamp, we thought we were getting the hard part out of the way. Little did we know.

After exploring China's little known (but REALLY big) Xinjiang Province, we decided to take the train from Urumqi accross the border to Almaty, Kazakhstan. It sounded simple enough, but booking cross-border train tickets in China ain't easy for us foreign imperialist types. Rejected at the train station ticket window and several travel agencies, we eventually found ourselves in a hotel suite on the outskirts of town negotiating for tickets with a hulking Russian guy and his beanpole Uigur sidekick. After a frenzy of cacaphonic tri-lingual communication, we finally managed a breakthrough: they couldn't sell us tickets, either.

Finally, it was a small counter in the lobby of yet another hotel that saw us through. Tickets in hand, we triumphantly boarded an old Russian railcar for the two-day journey to Almaty. The other two berths in our compartment were taken by a Mongolian woman and a Chinese guy. We passed the miles in good spirits, exchanging stories (Tower of Babel, take two) and the food we'd packed. All was right with the world. Then, like that famous piece of refuse colliding with that famous fan, we trundled up to the Chinese border post.

We didn't expect trouble - we were leaving the country, after all, not trying to get in. Still, we should have known better. As the train ground to a halt, Chinese soldiers immediately climbed aboard, collected passports, and herded every European and North American aboard off the train and into a seperate building. There weren't many, just your faithful correspondents, three New Zealanders and a Norweigan. Good thing, because the soldiers brought each of us into a small room individually, with our luggage, and interviewed us for a minimum of 15 minutes each while they rifled through our bags.

Mike had an especially good time, since the Chinese were somehow aware of his checkered past as an imperialist military officer. It took over an hour for him to clear. He passed the time evading bizarre questions about his military service and watching a squad of the People's Liberation Army's finest look for secret documents sewn into his boxer shorts. If there's a transcript out there, part of it reads like this:

Chinese Officer: "You in army before, we know this. Yes?"

Mike: "Yes."

China: "Where in army you fight?"

Mike: "I fought with my sister sometimes, when I was a kid, but we get along great now."

(faint but audible rustle as socks are held up to the light by a teenage soldier, breathing loudly through his mouth)

China (after long silence): "You in army, yes? We know you in army."

After such hospitality, the Kazakh border was a glorious sight. We were also questioned by Kazakh officers - but all they wanted to know was why their Chinese counterparts kept giving westerners so much trouble, and they stopped by our compartment to ask their questions instead of confining us. Finally, after engineers changed the wheel guage on our train to accomodate the old Soviet-laid track to the north, we were on our way into Kazakhstan.




If Sasha Cohen's character Borat is your image of modern Kazakhstan, think again. Almaty's wide and leafy avenues, mountain vistas and European sensibilities felt cleansing after China's industrial, desert interior. As we arranged visas and plotted our onward journey to the Caspian Sea, and Istanbul beyond, we strolled through parks with locals decked out in western fashions bought with new petro-dollars and visited resplendant Russian Orthodox Churches.



At the famous Green Bazaar, we gawked at mountains of fresh meat and produce and indulged in heaping portions of laghman, the national dish of pulled noodles, vegetable sauce and meat.



Kazakhstan's largest city was the most vibrant place we'd visited since Shanghai. Still, despite the Italian fashions and French restaurants, we couldn't help singing a few lines from Borat's ficticious national anthem, written to the tune of the Star Spangled Banner:

"Kazakhstan is the Number One

Exporter of Potassium,

All other countries

Export inferior potassium!"

China's Inland Empire

It's obvious enough from a glance at the map that China is an exceptionally large nation, stretching from the Pacific to the mountainous ramparts of the Pamirs. But to truly appreciate just how damn big it is, there's nothing like crossing the country by train. Only when you've spent an entire day and night sitting on a bench in a packed rail car full of rural Chinese, with many people standing in the aisles or slumped on their luggage, does all that colored map space really sink in. It took us the better part of a week to make our way from Beijing to Kazakhstan, traversing Xinjiang's deserts in the hoof-prints of the old silk road camel caravans. Along the way, we discovered one of the world's most overlooked Islamic communities, the Uigurs.

In some important ways, a very large amount of that colored map space representing China isn't very Chinese at all. A massive percentage of China's land mass is found in its two westernmost provinces, Tibet and Xinjiang. In our travels through both places, we found the majority of people speaking non-Chinese languages, following non-Chinese religions, eating non-Chinese food, wearing non-Chinese clothes and generally going about their lives in a very non-Chinese way. (All of this, it goes without saying, happens under the attentive supervision of some very Chinese officials and police). There are some pretty obvious complications that result from this arrangement, and we discussed them at some length here and here during our travels in Tibet and in the Tibetan exile community in India.



While Xinjiang's Uigur Muslim majority hasn't found itself in the spotlight (or under the gun) to the extent their southern neighbors have, they do face a similar situation in many respects. Separatist movements have arrisen here on a number of occasions, only to be crushed. Still, despite the political tension and riot police patrolling the streets, life in Xinjiang's villages adheres to a rhythm much older than the town clocks chiming on Beijing time. Mao's face still appears occasionally, but the heart and soul of Xinjiang is the call to prayer echoing in the early morning, and the afternoon light filtering through grape trellises to illuminate the mud-walled alleys.

Hutong Quest

Susannah: The city of Beijing was my first glimpse of Asia. It was 1996 and was I sixteen. I had no affection for the grim smoggy skies and treeless avenues lined with blocky cement buildings; what I loved was pointing my Flying Pigeon bicycle down the narrow, winding hutongs of the old part of town. Here, onion pancackes and fried dumplings sizzled on every corner, crowds gathered to watch mahjong games, and women called to each other in piercing tones asking about their husbands' hemorrhoids. There was always something to wonder at, so much so that I often narrowly avoided collisions with bicycle carts overloaded with cardboard, beer bottles or laundry.

Many of these hutongs are several hundred years old. Through the narrow entryways lined with rusty bikes lie the courtyards of ancient family complexes and vibrant hidden temples. When we arrived in the city with Mike's mom, we barely made it to Tiananmen Square before I dragged everyone off to see "the real Beijing" of the hutongs.

I couldn't remember where my old haunts had been, so I consulted the ever-present guide book and pointed us toward Qianmen, the old southern gate to the city. We were immediately confronted with what seemed like miles of corrugated metal barricade, forcing us through a narrow, dusty channel reverberating with the sounds of jackhammers and buzzsaws. Through a gap in a fence I saw a vast expanse of rubble punctuated by the vibrant color of recently constructed faux-imperial splendor: the Beijing the government was readying for the Olympics.



Сhargrined, we pushed through the dust to a narrow commercial street. Here, cheerful workmen were busy rebuilding storefronts full of souvenirs. Dismembered mannequins lay piled against a fence.



A little desperate now, I took us down a promisingly narrow alleyway that I hoped would yield some local color. There was hardly a sign of life, apart from some wet cement. The old walls had been painted a uniformly stark grey on grey.

A couple days later (at my suggestion) we rented bikes and tried a different part of town, behind the Forbidden City. Same story, except this time there were signs in English pointing the way to this or that "authentic hutong." Toward the end of the day we happened upon some hole-in-the-wall noodle joints and a makeshift bike repair stand, but most of the businesses were self consciously shabby-hip joints for foreigners, or sold relics of the old Beijing.



As the defacto China tour guide, I was a little embarassed to be dragging Mike's mom along on a wild goose chase for something that apparently no longer existed. Once we had left China's borders and the reach of the "Great Firewall of China," I did some internet research to see what had happened to the Beijing I remembered.

According to this insightful article in Open Democracy, (featuring some beautiful and sobering photos), a third of the central city's 62 square km has been destroyed in the last 3 years, displacing 580,000 residents, many of whom are homeless while awaiting resettlement in highrises. The hutongs not being torn down are getting the makeover we witnessed. One of the aspects of this makeover that pleases residents is the upgrading of their public toilets--though only those in tourist-frequented areas are getting the fancy kind with electronic flush mechanisms.

According to this (surprisingly hilarious) article in The Hindu,

"the city authorities have also instituted a "morality-evaluation index" that ranks neighbourhoods according to the level of refinement they have achieved. Sharing housework, speaking a foreign language, regular reading of newspapers, large book-collections and window-sills displaying potted plants boost the neighbourhood score on the civility index while spitting, alcohol abuse, and noisiness act as blackmarks."

This is all happening, of course, to mould the city into a Beijng the government thinks will impress its first-world Olympic visitors. This is a shame, because a sterilized, spoon-fed experience of China can be had much more easily at Epcot Center. But the real shame is that Beijing's residents are being forcibly encouraged to believe that their rich, lived-in history and deep community roots are worthless.

Images of China

A Taoist monk in Hangzhou


In contemplation in Hangzhou


A temple worker in Beijing prepares for a ceremony


This woman is praying for luck or health for a loved one born in the year of the horse. Her hands are covered in dye from pink incense sticks.


Want to buy a balloon?


Late afternoon on the Great Wall





A show of force at Tiananmen


I couldn't tell you who this group was, but it sure looked grand! (Hangzhou)


Hangzhou


A secret view from one of Yangshuo's back alleys


I'm fascinated by glimpses into other lives


A game of cards in a Yangshuo park


Suzhuo's canals are ancient, but these houses look brand new.


Well-loved Buddha in a corner of Datong's Hanging Monastery

My Ass is a'Dragon

After seven months of traveling together, we were thrilled to have Mike's mom along for the journey from Hong Kong to Beijing. She's an intrepid and irrepressible companion, and we miss her company already. Here's her time with us, in her words and pictures.

Guest Blogger, Judi Breen:

Coming out of customs at the Hong Kong airport, I was absolutely delighted to see two smiling and familiar faces, my guides to China, Mike and Susannah! They both look healthy and happy and of course are full of stories about their experiences.

On the bus ride to our guest house, I got a great view of the city at night- huge and modern, futuristic skyscrapers to rival any other. As expected the streets are busy, noisy, and crowded with people. Unexpected was the mix of cultures: Noodle shops around the corner from KFC, Mom and Pop stores covered with Chinese characters across the way from Gucci and Armani, teens in a mix of eastern and western fashion. I was just beginning my journey through cultural overload.

After a cloudy day, both weather wise and brain wise, we left Hong Kong by ferry to hop an overnight train west to Guilin. Being a timid sort, I insisted on booking the "soft sleeper", which turned out to be very nice, if not particularly soft. In fact it seemed a little elegant to me, like the Orient Express, which Susannah reminded me, was pretty much what we were on!

From Guilin, we took a cruise down the beautiful and mystical Li River, which is surrounded by karsks, limestone pillars left from when the area was under the sea. We ended in Yangshou, a small town on the river. We were immediately beseiged by shop keepers, rickshaw drivers, cab drivers, hoteliers, and tourist guides. There were lots of small booths with wares for the tourist, each shopkeeper vying for our attention. It was, once again, a bit overwhelming.

We spent several days exploring the area. Susannah and I went to the local market one morning, a warehouse type building filled with individual vendors selling fruits, vegetables, herbs, teas, eggs, chickens...

We saw old men and woman squatting behind their wares, vendor's children roaming around, people with poles across their shoulders holding baskets loaded with produce to sell on the street. And in the middle of all that was a young women dressed in a business suit, sitting on a stool and talking on her cell phone while she supervised the purchase of her vegetables.

In the nearby park, we saw several small groups of people seated around tables, chatting and playing cards or Mah Johng. We were to observe this in all the areas we visited.

On a cloudy and not too promising day, we decided to explore the area the traditional way- by bike. We saw farmers in the fields, a woman with a pet monkey, and a nursing water buffalo. Of course it started to rain, so we decided to stop for tea. After warming up and haggling over postcards, we headed out again. Unsure of which way to head, the sales woman hopped on her bike and in the rain happily led us to the area we were looking for.

After viewing an ancient tree, a peacock, water wheel, and sales people in traditional costume, we decided to ride along the Yulong River and back to town. We rode along clay covered roads into a magical land. Fields and scattered homes were the only evidence of civilization; the towering karsks were shrouded in mist and clouds; the earth was deep green and trees were in bloom. Except for the mud splashing up on our backs and the rain hitting our heads, it was silent.

On our return to the hotel, we revived ourselves with showers and the traditional Chinese combination of instant apple cider and Jack Daniels.

One morning Mike treated me to a Tai Chi class which was fun, if humbling. We also attended a show along the river, produced by the man who is putting on the opening show for the Olympics. I was expecting something fairly hokey, but it was a spectacular event with hundreds of people, dozens of boats, and beautiful lighting.

In the evening we watched an elderly man fish with cormorants. The birds throats were obstructed by twine, and as they fished the handler would pull them out of the water, turn them upside down so the birds would drop the fish into his basket. It was fascinating. The gentleman was in his 80's and said his father and grandfather had fished in the river in the same way. When I asked if his son fished too, he said that no, his son owned hotels.

One day this type of fishing will only exist for the tourists. I wonder if that's a good thing?

Next we went to Suzhou, a small city with beautiful parks and gardens. And Dumplings. And an Irish Pub with good food and Guiness. At one park we watched a variety of traditional performers who acted, sang, and played instruments. Each perfomance was in a different area and lasted only a few minutes each, which most of the time was a blessing. The costumes, especially those used for opera, were stunning, but the music was that ear piercing, discordant type that I have never learned to appreciate. So it was a fairly quick and painless overview of China's performance culture!

We spent an afternoon in Tongli. On a boat ride along the well known canals, our pilot was a young woman with stillettos who did a mean spit! A variation on the gondaliers in Venice.

About the spitting- everyone in China spits! It's pretty disgusting. Of course the air quality is poor, they smoke, and probably all have chronic bronchitis. (I can't help it, I've been a respiratory therapist too long!) Anyway the spitting was rampant and never ceased to cause a shiver to run down my spine. And it was very important to watch where you walked!

We stayed several days in Hangzhou, a beautiful city on a large lake. Around most of the lake, there was a public walkway with museums, pagodas, and tea houses. One day we got up at 6:00 am to explore. After coffee and scones at Starbucks, we walked halfway around the lake. Groups of people were everywhere, walking vigorously- their leaders carrying big flags- and performing tai chi. We came across a group of women dancing with fans. It seemed to be a class and it captured our attention for a little while.

Another day, beautiful weather, we set out on bikes . We stopped in a modern pagoda, complete with elevators, and in a Buddist temple where the robed monks could be seen with cell phones. Everywhere in China the traditional pushes against the modern in confusing, amusing and concerning ways.

We set out on overnight train to Shanghai, passing the time by playing our usual game of portable Scrabble. Since we were taking a train to Beijing that afternoon, we stored our bags at the station. With only a half day available, we decided to take a harbor cruise to get a feel for the city. We took a taxi through heavy traffic to the port area. After finding a ticket booth, Susannah tried to get specific information about the boat tours, but it was difficult. We bought the tickets and then were ignored. After several minutes a woman beckoned to us to go with her, and so we did. Then she deposited us on a van and disappeared. More people got on the van and we determined it would take us to the boat. After a ride on the highway, the van stopped and we were sent off the bus. Again we were ignored for several minutes until a man beckoned for us to go with him. He led us past several decent looking cruise boats and then pointed at what looked like an old and tired pirate ship. He indicated that here was our boat!

As we climbed aboard, we noticed the VIP section up front where we could sit with a great view for only a small extra price. Drinks were included and so it was an easy decision. Our server arrived with a menu of drinks and snacks. I ordered a rum and coke, M&S ordered beer.

Several minutes later the server returned to tell me they had no rum. So I changed my order to my usual vodka and tonic and asked for some popcorn. Eventually my drink arrived, but it seems they didn't have popcorn. So we decided to go for the peanuts. Many more minutes passed and she returned once again to tell us there were no peanuts. The poor girl- we started laughing so hard, she must have thought we were laughing at her. Having exhausted the entire snack menu we had to go without. Then they charged us for the drinks!

The thing is, this type of thing happened frequently at restaurants. We would get a 3 page menu and then be told they only had 3 or 4 of the items listed. Just a China thing I guess.

We did manage to get a good view of Shanghai with its ultramodern buildings.

At some point Mike casually asked about our tickets to Beijing which was when we realized that the train was leaving from a different station than where we had arrived- and stored our bags. China is growing so quickly that it seems that a new train station had gone up since the printing of the guide book. So after the cruise was over and we were driven back to the starting point we decided we should take the metro back to our bags. By then it was rush hour. They really do have people who push you so you can fit on the subway! In the end we made it, bags in hand,on time for our next departure.

Beijing: a city undergoing a huge and disconcerting transition. Construction is everywhere and constant, especially with the Olympics pending in August. On top of the pollution, the air is filled with construction dusts, and I'm told, the desert dusts that blow in at springtime.

We made our way to Tianemen Square and paid homage to the very pickled Chairman Mao. I state here and now, very publicly, I want to be cremated. DO NOT preserve me on ice and put me out for display- it is very, very unattractive! Surpising were the huge piles of flowers placed at the tomb by clearly emotional Chinese citizens.

We visited the Temple of Heaven and the Forbidden City, both beautiful. These areas, like all of Beijing, were in the middle of renovation, with fresh paint and repairs for the expected increase in tourism.

Susannah and I took a train ride to an area known for its shopping, especially traditional Chinese goods and antiques or "curios." Again the guide book was not up to date and we found this train station had also been moved. We decided a motorized rickshaw would be a fun experience and we were right. Quickly, we realized the driver did not know how to reach our destination, and in true Chinese style, a committee was formed. A group of drivers gathered to look at the maps, ask questions, and discuss the best way to get this rickshaw driver his fare. Because we were now in the rickshaw we were going for a ride! Which we did- across several lanes of heavy traffic, heading the wrong way down one way streets filled with moving cars, Susannah and I laughing and covering our eyes! It was crazy and fun and typical of the driving in China. Crossing a street was endangering your life!

We arrived safe and sound and managed to find a few items at a good price, assured by the haggling shopkeepers that our purchases came from the Ming dynasty. What a fun day we had- thanks Susannah!

Again we mounted bikes and headed out to find some areas that Susannah had frequented when she was a student living in the city, 12 years before. Again the guide book failed us. Old neighborhoods were being torn down to make way for the needs of the Olympics. Shops that had been opened for generations were closed or covered in plastic. Huge sections of housing, hidden by fences, were being destroyed. At the time I wasn't aware that a lot of the residents were simply being told to move. Chinese citizens can not own land.

The residents of this street in Beijing seem to be excited by these changes, as noted by the Olympic slogan "One World, One Dream"

In one of the rebuilt areas, there was a lakeside park where groups gathered to play hackeysack and, in the evening, dance. It had a wonderful community feel to it. Just adjacent were modern reaturants and clubs with outside tables and inside torch singers. Our last night we went there for supper and a drink. Despite a complete bar, I was unable to make the server understand that I did not want the wine or beer that was listed on the menu. And the dinner menu was extensive and exotic. During the entire trip, I had been very timid about the food, sure that I would get deathly ill or aquire a parasite. So I did not order the duck tongue, chicken feet, dog, pig elbows etc that were offerred. The telling part of the menu was that many of the descriptions included the term "wikipedia"; as in "lake snails wikipedia." In the hurry to appeal to expected hordes of international tourists, they rushed through the translations.

And that was how China, and in particular Beijing, seemed to me, rapidly running toward modernization without clearly being sure of where they wanted to be or what they might leave behind forever. Wanting so much to be western,their billboards and mannequins showed western not Asian models. I found it all bewildering and sad.

And then there was the Great Wall. We were lucky enough to not get on the bus and instead found a driver to take us to an area of the wall that is less visited. We took a cable car part way up and then started up the steep steps to the wall. Along the way some farmers took pity on me, an old and unfit tourist, and kindly took my arm to help me on my climb. They continued to stay with us, gentle folks that they were, worried about my ability to make it on my own. Finally Susannah asked them what they wanted in order to be left alone. So we bought a book and a t-shirt ( "I climbed the Great Wall of China"). Reassured that I was capable of surviving, they settled back to play cards.

It was worth the trip. Absolutely amazing and full of incredible views. Mike says it was not a particularly effective tactical endeavor, but I am grateful it was built. The Chinese villagers say it was built of the bones of the laborers, and indeed many must have died in the construction. It is indeed a wonder and a highlight of my life to have seen it.

So China was fun, exhausting, overwhelming, and quickly changing. Many thanks to my guides. Susannah spent so much time planning and arranging. Because of her excellent translation skills we were able to make it through unscathed. She bore the burden of all the small decisions and ticket purchases and price haggling and she did it with good humor. Mike bravely protected me from wild shop keepers and he schlepped my suitcase cheerfully like the gentleman he is.

I was honored to be a part of the Eurasian Invasion.