Day 263 - Taishan

6660 steps later...



So, in our usual squalling backward trek around massive countries (we did the same in argentina), instead of taking the quickest and most sensible route through a selection of places of interest, we decide on taking the longest, most contorted and most uncomfortable route. So once again, we leave Datong and head, this time, to Taishan, once again via Beijing (a journey that takes in total 24 hours - killer).

But we made it. I'm not gonna bore you again with details of the horrendous train journies - needless to say they were hellish. Please try and understand how bad they were. But the worst was yet to come. There's not much I HATE about backpacking. I can put up with the evil lack of sleep and uncomfortable seats and beggars hassling you and people thrusting tourist tat in your face. I can put up with the long flights and hours waiting in airports. I can stand the stinking dorms and uncomfortable beds and lack of privacy or clean clothes or hot showers. All that stuff is bearable.

But one thing I can't stand is taxis. If you've ever been travelling or even just on holiday without an airport pickup organised, you'll know what I mean. Turning up at airports, train stations or bus stations, laden with all our stuff, clearly dripping with money, digital cameras and iPods, and when its dark. and you're confronted with a hoard of taxi drivers all ready to whisk you away. You don't know where you're going. You don't know any decent hotels. You don't have a reservation. And you don't speak the language. Its SO BAD. In south america, you have to fear for your life. Reports of tourists being driven to cashpoints and held at ransom happen with this frightening regularlity. In the rest of the world however, you fear for your stuff being nicked. or being ripped off. Its literally the worse thing about backpacking.



Taishan was the same, except our driver this time didn't want to take us where we wanted, but instead to his mates hotel on the outskirts of the city. Sam's terrified in the back, I'm trying to remember the route and work out an escape plan, and eventually we're dropped at a dodgy looking hotel, which is trying to charge us three times the price of everywhere else. We haggle it down to a reasonable (but still expensive) price, get some sleep in the freezing room and check out first thing the next morning, to search for a better hotel in town. I hate it when that stuff happens.

Anyway, I shouldn't complain. And we survived unscathed. We decided to come south to Taishan, maybe not strictly off the tourist trail but heavily out-of-season, for what is described as the "most climbed mountain on earth". Really? In china? I had no idea. apparently it is. Mount Taishan is, it seems, china's most sacred mountain. Always up for a bit of sparkling chinese mythology, it seems that the dude that created the world worked long and hard, and when he finished divided his body up into 5 bits and lumped in different parts of china - his most important bits right here in Taishan, forming the mountain. So every year, hoards (and by that I mean thousands and thousands) of people do the 4-hour trek to the top as some form of pilgrimage.

So, always up for a challenge, I decided to do it. And to top it off, apparently anyone who does the climb will live to be 100. WHOOP WHOOP. and, get this, if you walk through the archway of immortality at the top, you get to become a celestial being as well. how sorted am i. that debt's not looking like such a big deal now, is it? So after a day of wandering around the cute, although uninteresting town at the base of the mountain, I got up at 10am, wrapped up in plenty of layers, bought some spam (very popular here) to line my stomach as I hiked, and set off.



And its cute. We're here TOTALLY out of season. so not only am I the only westerner for 100 miles, but the place is NOTHING like the photos. Its not green and lush, with streams and rivers coursing across boulders and under ornamental bridges. Instead its that yellowy colour that you associate with people who are dying. The trees are almost bear, the air not blue but white, icicles hanging from the stone bridges and random piles of snow, unmelted by the perpetual shade of the winter's low sun. Its not the Taishan experience you ought to have, but its good enough for me.





The first half is a gentle rise through the thinned out forests, past shed loads of temples and monuments, and even more tourist stalls selling t-shirts and water bottles. But there's hardly anyone else on the path, and with my iPod to keep me company (sam's back at the hotel lazing the day away) I wandered to the halfway mark an hour and a half later. Its 7.5km in total, from the town to the summit. I've stomped my way through more than half of that, braced for the second half which is apparently the killer. Unphased though.

The place is cute. Its ear-marked as a site of geological significance, and has the odd interesting rock formation hanging around. And the route is literred with temples stinking of josticks. And LOADS of rocks with chinese inscriptions on them. That was kinda cute, although meaningless to ignorant duncs. But probably the most beautiful thing was the hundreds of red ribbons hanging from the branches of trees, with rocks attached to them. I still don't know what they represent - but they're only on certain trees, and its striking to see. when you're not wiping sweat from out of yours eyes.



ah, and they have this thing about padlocks. wrapped around everyting sacred and locked to one another in massive blinging chains. its special.







So I'm doing fine. until I get to this bit - the path of 18 bends. Right, until now it was kinda easy. and whilst I saw this in the distance, I didn't think I'd be that bothered. I've done the inca trail. I've climbed mountains at altitude. this is nothing. and I don't smoke anymore (have I mentioned that?), so I should be fit and healthy and prepared. I wasn't. It killed me. Its like being shot in the lungs and in the knee-caps. I'd take 5 steps, and then collapse. Of the 10 or so people around me doing the walk too, they were all using the hand-rail to pull themselves up. I wasn't. I had my photo taken 3 times. and some dude filmed me on his video camera, as I drank water and sweated it out straight away. But apart from that, i totally under-estimated the physical labour I'd have to undergo. killer.



But I made it. I passed through the archway of immortality (ha ha! sucks to be you, mortal beings) and spent an hour wandering the temples, bell towers, archways, panaramas and finding a little quiet spot to sit by myself and think about stuff. It was cool.







It never fails to amaze me how one minute you can be at the bottom of a massive, imposing mountain, and 3 hours later you can be at the top looking down. all done on foot. I love that stuff. anyway, i was SO SHATTERED. so forked out the 3 quid for a cable-car ride (alone) down the mountain, which scared the shit out of me. And with that, sam and I boarded another train headed BACK to Beijing.



Its the eve of my flight to Vietnam tonight. We've spent the last 48 hours not sleeping on another night-train, not being able to get a cab to the hostel, not being able to find the hostel as we wander in the 6am darkness down beijing side-alleys, not being able to pack all out winter clothes into our already over-filled backpacks, not being able to get cash out at the chinese cashpoints, and not being happy with my new too-short and too-rubbish haircut which some chinese dude thought was a good idea. Its not been great. But I do have a soft spot for china.

Its weird. Its an amazing country. and the youth seem so cool and switched on. But this place is CRAWLING with people, and unemployment looks set to get worse. I dunno if all these rumours of china becoming a super-power within 10 years could be possibly true with the amount of work that needs to be done to this place. And the whole olympics thing in 500 days seems totally unprepared for, and at best a thrown together plan. Like they've just dumped a multi-million pound stadium in the centre of town and not bothered upgrading the infrastructure. I dunno. But rural china is amazing, if a bit scary. And the people, whilst a bit weird, always break a smile if you send one their way. I like it. And I have a distinct feeling that I'll be back one day - heading down the Yangtzee, or riding the trans-siberian back into town. Until that time, farewell China. Its been fun. next stop - vietnam.

Day 260 - Yungang Caves, Datong

Thsese dudes are massive...



So, after the hanging monastry (which is only the *2nd* most impressive tourist trap in Datong), we decided to check out the Yungang Caves, a series of 45 caves, 20 minutes out of Datong, that house - get this 51,000 buddha statues. Now, I don't know about you, but the fact that it houses "51,000 buddha statues" means nothing to me. Firstly, I have no idea how many 51,000 is. I mean, 5,000 is ok. I can kinda picture 5,000. But 10,000 and I start to lose track. 51,000 and I have NO IDEA how many that is. Surely its, like, a stupid amount. ridiculous. Anyway, there I am, picturing a set of natural caves on a hillside, loaded with little painted ornamental buddhas. How wrong was i?

We decided on the non-tourist approach again, so after waving a lonely planet (with the chinese symbols for Yungang Grottoes in it) under the noses of some bus drivers, we eventually got on the number 3-1 and headed out of town to a nearby coal mining town. Its kinda grim, and run-down. Much as you'd expect, I guess. But we get off, head past the open brief-cases of buddha ornaments and tacky fake-jade necklaces. and into the deserted park where we're faced by a wall of cliff, dotted with tiny cave entrances etched into them.



We wander to the start of the 45-cave circuit. Its kinda impressive. Not AMAZING. But impressive. The caves are not very deep, but covered in etching of buddhas, dragons, pagodas and important looking dudes. most of the buddhas faces have weathered off by the rain or air pollution or something, so some of them are kinda grim looking. And in the middle of the caves are stone pillars shaped like ancient pagodas. I like it.



And a few more caves like that later, and we're kinda bored. until we find this cave...



Its creepy. and empty. and hollow and scary. and the steps are inviting us to wander in. and there's no one around to stop us, or tell us not to, or save us from the murderers/tigers/spiders that lurk inside. I'm shitting myself. Sam's nervous - but willing. We creep in. To find this...


[check me out, stood at the bottom]

Its enormous right. This man-made cave is probably about 20m high, with a perfect flat ceiling of rock. Its cavernous, echoey. And the buddha, flanked by two smaller dudes on either side, one caught scarily in the sun, peers out of a window in the rock over Datong and the coal-mines. Standing at the bottom, I don't even reach half-way to his knee. Its immense. And all the while, we're creeping around this place like uninvited guests. There's stone-carved corridors to explore, but they're all blocked. so we take the photos and leave. in awe.

Its said that no-one leaves this place unwowed. which is true. Its special. I'm being careful not to gush about it, because it was kinda boring. its samey. The rest of the caves don't differ much. There's small ones...



...there's huge ones...



...there's little ones with THOUSANDS OF BUDDHAS on them (no wonder they racked up 51,000)...



...really knackered ones that look SO wrong...



...and then there's two massive outside dudes, exposed to the elements are rotting as we speak. All in all, its amazing. the work, the effort, the skill. but hey, its like the terracotta army. impressive on paper - a bit lame in the flesh. number one tourist trap in Datong - number 2 for me. The monastry was way better. But maybe just because my life was in danger. i dunno.



anyway, we left the caves and went in search of the Datong "great wall", a segment which hasn't been destroyed yet about 10 minutes from the entrance to the caves. did we find it? don't be stupid. we ask some dude. he shakes his head like we've just asked for a knife to cut our throats. we ask some shopkeeper, who puts down his uzi that he was polishing (wtf?) and calls over his taxi driving mate. we explain - no taxi please - and he points us in the opposite direction to the instructions in the lonely planet. we try both. for an hour. and don't find even a sniff of the great wall of china. which is fine, cos apparently its a rubbish, crumbling mess anyway. and i've already been, so screw the wall.





and as if all 51,000 buddhas got together to kick my ass in some kinda of kharmic-retribution backlash, we ended the day in a horrendous hard-seat night train, getting no sleep with no leg room and no warmth, and ending the horrendous journey trying to find a cab that would take us to a hostel in beijing at 6 in the morning when its -5 degrees outside. which took ages. But eventually we made it into a bed, and for half the price of nights accomdation we slept for 4 hours, cabbed back to the train station and set off on a 7 hour journey to Taishan - home of a massive (and most) sacred mountain in China, which I plan on climbing solo sometime in the next couple of days. i'm mental. damn right.

Day 259 - The Hanging Monastry, Datong

Every now and then, you strike gold...



So, Sam and I are sat in Xian, back off the Terracotta Army trip, which you might know I kinda hated. And we're discussing where to go next. We had a choice. We could go south, see some panda's, but then getting back to Beijing might have been a hassle. We could go to Taian, site of china's most sacred, and scalable, mountains. Or we could go to Datong - outback, dusty, cold and challenging (there's very little tourist infrastructure there apparently). So what do we do - we choose Datong.

Datong is a 6 hour train ride west of Beijing, so after watching the new Willy Wonka film (what's with the sucky ending about finding a family?), we jump on a night train and head north to Beijing, arriving at 6am to the blistering cold of winter. Our connection to Datong isn't for 8 hours, so we head back to our old hostel and play some cards in the warm before heading off on the hard-seat journey to Datong, packed in like sardines into the carriages reserved for locals. Its grim - they smoke on the train, they spit on the floor (after hacknig up half their lungs first - a common occurance in china), the spill noodles on their laps and kids scream the whole way. Its smells SO BAD, and its freezing, and SO UNCOMFORTABLE. Seriously, unless you're going for the authentic travelling experience in china, aviod the hard-seat carriages.



But we made it, and scooted across the street to the nearest hotel and bundled into a dorm room (i.e. 4 beds in a room with no facilities, sharing the staff toilet and showers), where we met a wicked girl who was staying in the same room. She's funny, easy to get on with, and speaks a little mandarin, so the next day we get up early ready to head to the famed Hanging Monastry with her.

Datong boasts two attractions - the first and most respected is its Buddhist caves, caved out of the surrounding hillside and adorned with over 50,000 carvings of buddhas. shocker. that's a lot. The second, and less well-received, is its Hanging Monastry. That said, for 100 yuan (7 quid), you can jump on a tourist bus and visit the caves, the monastry and a jade factory, all in one day, and with the comfor of no chinese people spitting on your shoes and no hassle getting cabs and buses. But we're not here for that. So we wrap up warm, hit the road and start trying to make our way 1 hour out of town to the monastry.

First we're bundled on a bus by a local, responding to our "Xuankong Si" calls (the name of the monastry). We pay up, take a seat, laugh at how easy that was, then get bundled off 3 stops later and pointed down a road. 10 minutes later we're bundled onto another bus, which we suddenly realise is a tour bus and is going to rip us off (it wasn't) so start shouting "TING!" (stop) at the driver and bundle ourselves off. Then we're hassled excessively by taxi drivers, so much so we jump on the next bus, which is a small 14-seater minibus. Its smokey, stinky and tiny. And after paying up and getting comfortable, it stops to pick up half of china. In the end we had 28 people on the bus, sat on tiny wooden stools in the aisles and croching at the front so the driver can see his mirrors. It was mental. And then, a hour later, we're dropped off outside a taxi which offers to drive us to the monastry for 30yuan (it should have been 10yuan - ripped).

But we made it. And this is what we saw...



Perched - literally sliding off - the mountain side is this amazing monastry - stacked in places 3 storeys high and dripping with ancient, religious charm. Its freezing, and we're starving, so we jump into a restaurant (which rips us off AGAIN) before donning our gloves and beginning the small scale to the foot of the monastry.







Now, I love stuff like this. Its old - 1400 years - and yet tourists can still clamber over it. Some of the staircases are held up with mere wedges under the supports, and the whole thing creaks with age as you carefully pick your footing on the hanging balconies around the outsides of the gorgeously adorned rooms of buddhist deities and gods.



My fear of heights kicks in at one point, enough that I want to turn back, but I carry on, edging my way around the one-way system of narrow paths. Its magical, and we're here all alone, except for a group that arrive just as we start our descent. Its charming and captivating, and surrounding by a jaw-dropping gorge and dam, complete with frozen ice flows seeping from holes in the rock. I scoot up the concrete steps lining the side of the gorge to the top of the dam and stare out over the frozen lake.









The return journey is somewhat more comfortable, taking the same cab back to the nearby town and a nicer bus which affords us some sleep. And then its a mammoth internet session to end the day, making use of the faster-than-beijing connection and ability to check my myspace without crashing the computer.

Day 256 - The Terracotta Warriors, Xian

Scary...



OK, so getting to Xian, about 10 hours south-west of Beijing on a night train, was probably the most-fun part of our 2-day trip to the Shanxi province. Originally planning on continuing south for a week, our beijing hostel has scared us to death about the impending New Year celebrations and lack of available train tickets, so we're heading away for just a couple of days. Anyway, we're booked on a night-train - this means two things for certain - no sleep and no comfort. Picturing an dirty carriage with 4-storey bunks, no blankets, no pillows, wooden beds and open windows, neither of us was looking forward to the journey - until we 'checked in' to our dorm...



how awesome is this. right, it was SO NICE. shockingly nice. warm and soft and cushioned. we had our own tvs with 10 channels. hot water on tap. clean (squat) toilets. a door to keep the riff-raff out and even a wake-up call at 6am. it was sweet. and whilst sam didn't sleep at all, i slept like a baby. perfect. we also got to watch our favourite tv programme "just for laughs. gags", aired in south america and seemingly in china too.



arriving in Xian was cool. the city is flanked on all side by its beautiful and imposing city walls, which circle the city centre, failing to hold in the sprawling metropolis that Xian now is. Its huge - 6.6 million people - and if it wasn't so flat, I reckon you could see it sprawling as far as the eye can see. That's something that's quite subtle in china - there's literally millions and millions of people. Towns that look no bigger than brighton house ten times as many citizens. And whilst the cities are huge, you wouldn't know there were that many people. until you enter the shops, where there are 8 check-out staff when one person could do all the work. In each of the multitude of hair-dressing salons scattered around our hutong in beijing are HOARDS of staff. maybe 10 or 12 staff, just hanging around. Its mental. I'm writing this from Datong, a small town between Beijing and Xian, where we are staying in a hotel which employs a solitary woman on EACH FLOOR of the hotel, just to unlock your door for you and clean your rooms. Its weird.

Anyway, the city is huge, and after arriving at our very central hostel, we dump our bags and head around town to spy what the shops have to offer. Its cute - we wander the highstreet for 3 hours, scouring music shops for chinese techno (all I got was shitty disco), sam bought some SARS masks, which is hugely popular out here. especially Hello Kitty ones. and I bought some rip-off sony headphones, which stopped working after 20 minutes. 2 quid wasted.

The next day was our shot at the warriors. now, word on the street is that Terracotta Army is a bit of let-down. Just a bit museum and not the awe-inspiring spectacle that it should be. To be honest, I'm not that fussed about super-touristy stuff anyway, unless you can get up-close and personal with the goods. But, that said, we couldn't come this close and not see them. some form of ancient artefact peer-pressure. Anyway, after wandering around for ages like idiots looking for the right bus, in the blistering cold, we hop on and an hour later we're jumping off at the entrance to the compound.



The whole place is disgustingly big. The museum is about a kilometre from the car park, and you have to walk through this maze of hideous tourist shops selling replica terracotta men, a scattering of pushy tour guides who insist "you will learn NOTHING if you don't have me as guide", and the sound of a chinese Kate Bush being piped around the park. Its kinda depressing, especially when the shops are offering little terracotta dudes for less than 5p each.

Anyway, we make it to the front of the park and after storming around the dull and badly presented museum, we head for Pit 1...



Right. Its big. That's the first thing that gets you. And there's a good number of the lifesized dudes. We push our way to the barriers to get a better look, take some photos, smile coyly at each other, and start walking. The thing is I don't wanna upset anyone who's been, or planning on going, or always wanted to go. But they're a bit rubbish. Ok, AMAZING. an ancient wonder. an unbeliveable about of hard work (all to protect the grave of a dead king). shocking that they have been restored so amazingly well. but a bit dull.





right, there's not THAT many of them. and they're about 30m away from where you are, so its hard to really see them in detail. and they're a bit... dare i say it... basic. i dunno. I wasn't overly bothered about seeing these bad boys when we made the journey to Xian, but actually seeing them didn't change my impression too much. I feel bad. I'm supposed to be wowed. Instead, we trundled around the other (rubbish) pits, and hopped on the hour long bus journey back to Xian city centre. Nice photos. Nice work by the archeologists. Could be better though.



And after lazing around for a day, wandering the streets of the Xian and the beautiful Muslim district (not a muslim in sight though), we jumped on another night train heading back to Beijing. Next stop - Datong - home to some old chinese history and loads of buddhist statues. whoop whoop.