Lanterns, dinosaurs and salt

One of the special things about Chinese New Year is the stunning lantern festivals. One of the most famous is in a town about an hour south of us – 自贡 (Zìgòng). We had heard of it as a famous dinosaur site, so decided to go the weekend after Chinese New Year to kill two birds with one stone.

With our new relaxed approach to travel in China, we did not purchase tickets ahead of time. I researched the right station from which to catch the bus and early Saturday morning we set off. We went by metro, then hopped on some shared bikes and cycled to the bus station – except we couldn’t find it. I brought up Dù, the Chinese equivalent of Google maps that I now use, checked, and we cycled back to where the pin was. Oh, it is a public bus stop with a similar name, not the large intercity bus station. Hazards of a novice Chinese reader!

A bit later we arrived at the hard-to-miss-if you-get-anywhere-near-it bus station, bought tickets and got on the bus. The driver agitatedly came down to tell us to put on our seat belts, given that we were obviously ignoring his clear instructions. I heard him ask if there was an English speaker, but to no avail. However miming worked fine, and we were off. A couple of hours later, we arrived at the 自贡 (Zìgòng) bus station. We picked up a Dìdì (Chinese equivalent of Uber) which has become our transport option of choice since they made an English version. It is so convenient. We can make it clear exactly where we want to go without having to say it accurately, and it is automatically paid through our mobile payment app 支付宝 (Alipay).

We checked in to our hotel and caught the bus to the dinosaur museum – a bit later than we planned, but not having a proper lunch caught up the time we lost detouring to public bus stations.

There were lots of families at the museum – interesting for adults and good for children. The museum is on one of the 40 sites in 自贡 (Zìgòng) where dinosaur fossils have been found. It seems that they have so many they can leave a space with untouched fossils to show visitors what it was like.  We learned about (and I have now forgotten) the location of dinosaur fossil discoveries across China and the world, and the reason the region has so many well-preserved fossils in many sites. We also went on the 360 degree virtual tour through ancient dinosaur worlds – scary with a bit of nausea thrown in – amazing given that we were all sitting in an auditorium looking at a screen and hardly moving.

We then went to the lantern festival. It was SO crowded. We are getting used to crowds but this took being crowded to a whole new level. (As an aside, we are becoming Chinese in that if we are the only people somewhere, we think we must be in the wrong place, and we decide routes based on the number of others doing the same thing). But it was stunning – I felt like I was gorging on visual brilliance. With the crowds, we had to walk slowly at everyone else’s pace, and take it all in. The photos do not do it justice.

Something we noticed all around 自贡 (Zìgòng) were leaves out drying wherever it was possible to put them. When we got back to work, Raymond asked his colleague, who is from 自贡 (Zìgòng), what these leaves were and why they were out drying. She said they are dried and then used for local ‘sauerkraut’. Interesting!

Sunday morning, we visited the Salt Museum. This was one of those experiences where the place you had not heard of turns out to be the highlight of the trip. I think Raymond read every single English word there. It is a beautiful old building (built in 1736) used by salt merchants during the hey day of salt production in the region.

It turns out there are three methods of salt extraction. Sea salt accounts for most of China’s salt production (70%), with well salt contributing 20%, and lake salt 10% (estimated at a paltry 1,000 salt lakes!). The first method has been being used for 5,000-6,000 years, but is not so useful for inland regions like 四川 (Sìchuān). A few thousand years ago the other two methods were developed. The 自贡 (Zìgòng) museum focuses on the evolution of well salt production – a fascinating story of technological innovation.

Part of the 自贡 (Zìgòng) geology that means dinosaur fossils last so well, is ‘abundant salt brines’, a legacy from a change of sea level. This seems strange for a part of the country so far inland, but it was 200 million years ago.

Much more recently, during the Warring States Period in China (just over 2,000 years ago), people started drilling wells to get brine, building on other well drilling techniques dating back 4,000 years. 李冰 (Lĭ Bīng), who built the Dūjiāngyàn irrigation project I have already written about, is credited as being the ‘father of well salt production’. He was obviously quite an innovator.

During the 宋代 (Sòng Dynasty) – 960-1279 AD, salt drilling gave the world percussion (cable) drilling, which is now used worldwide in oil drilling. In the 明代 (Míng Dynasty) – 1368-1644 AD, they developed ways to maintain and repair the wells, and fish out fallen objects. Many of the bamboo items on display in the museum were different versions of technologies to achieve these – evolving as each person was able to build on the ideas of those who had gone before them. The local geology means that natural gas, coal, oil and other minerals are often found near the salt deposits. During the 清代 (Qīng Dynasty) – 1644-1911, as technological advances enabled deeper wells, new innovators devised techniques to use the natural gas they found to concentrate and purify the brine. They also applied principles of hydrodynamics to transport the brine using interconnected pipes and pumps.

And, of course, salt was taxed, from as far back as the 唐代 (Táng Dynasty) 618-907 AD. Because the region was so rich in salt, the salt tax, which was much higher than the land tax, made this region quite wealthy.

Even though I am terrible at remembering the details, I am fascinated by the interplay between geology driving innovation and then this driving economics – especially here in China where it has happened over such a long period of time, and I haven’t learned about it in history at school, or while reading Eurocentric books.

 

 

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Guìlín (桂林) and Yángshuò (阳朔)

In February, we celebrated our second Chinese New Year. Our first Spring Festival we went to Laos for the two week holiday, but noticed many special things in China before and after our holiday. We experienced many of these again – the red and gold decorations everywhere, the crowds leaving the  exhibition centre near us laden with treasures, Raymond’s work dinner with 红包(hóng bāo) aka red packets, various Lantern Festivals (we plan a visit next weekend), and firecrackers upon firecrackers. However, as when you travel a road for the second time, our second experience of these things was less dramatic and more familiar. ‘Oh, look they are putting up those red decorations everywhere.’ ‘That’s right, I remember it was really crowded at the Exhibition Centre last year.’

Another difference this year is that we ignored the dominant ex-pat thinking that says we need to travel out of China during the world’s largest human migration. Instead we headed to the last major tourist destination in China that we have not yet visited. (For kiwis, this is our last ‘Queenstown’ or ‘Rotorua’. Next we will start exploring the equivalent of the Wairarapa and Marlborough – some of them already in our holidays spreadsheet as we have started asking locals for suggestions.)

We had heard about 桂林 (Guìlín) before we arrived in China, from a German friend who said it was the highlight of his Chinese tour. Also, we knew that it was geologically similar to Halong Bay in Vietnam , but on land rather than sea, and we had loved visiting Halong Bay. And it is only a two hour flight from ‘home’. Raymond also wanted us to blob a bit during this holiday, so on the Wednesday we flew down to 桂林 (Guìlín = Cassia bark tree forest).

After picking up our bags at 桂林 (Guìlín) airport, we went outside to travel into town to our hotel. As at any airport in the world, we were accosted by taxi drivers wanting us to choose them. However, in China, we are now armed with Didi – the Chinese equivalent of Uber (they actually bought out Uber, so have a monopoly here). Its two advantages are that it is cheaper than a taxi, and the technology communincates better than my Chinglish. Didi brought out an English version in the last 12 months so we use it when public transport is not so convenient. In 成都 (Chéngdū), we can click on ‘Pin is accurate’, and the driver does not ring us up to clarify about where to pick us up. Unfortunately, it was less straight forward at the airport, because he couldn’t come to where we were waiting. Once we realised, we went in the direction the Didi software seemed to be directing us, until the blue dot jumped making it clear this was not the right way. He rang, I answered and spoke to him in Chinese. He seemed to understand me, but such understanding was not reciprocated. He tried to speak more slowly, I understood some but not enough to be really helpful. So, plan C, I grabbed a passer-by and asked him to help us. He chatted to our driver and then told us to wait there. Of course, while waiting I spotted the car with the right number plate parked a couple of hundred meters in front of where we had started. But we then had to wait until our driver went into the airport, came back out and saw us. Then we were away.

Each time, my language is a bit better and gets us a bit further. But it is still a long way from giving us anything like a normal experience.

Our first impressions of the city were that is a bit dilapidated. However, after settling into our hotel, we walked over the nearby bridge, along the walkway by the river as it was getting dark. It was beautiful – absolutely beautiful. 桂林 (Guìlín) is famous for the cormorant fishermen, and it turned out they were ‘fishing’ (waiting for tourist boats) right by our hotel.

This traditional form of fishing dates back to 960AD. It is not really a nice story and the birds, while looked stunning resting on each end of a bamboo pole, did not look happy constrained to only limited flapping movements tied to the rod or raft. The cormorants are trained to dive into the river to catch fish. After catching a fish the birds return to the boat where the fisherman removes the fish from the bird. The bird is prevented from swallowing the fish by a ring that is placed around the neck of the bird. The bird is rewarded for its work by its owner. In its day, it must have been a clever, albeit cruel, innovation. Many times in our week away, we saw the rafts and fishermen with cormorants on rods, but never saw one with a fish in its mouth.

The next day, we explored the city, starting with a local bus ride out to Reed Flute Cave. My Chinese was good enough to ask an elderly gentleman waiting at the bus stop which way the bus would go, and find out that we needed to wait on the other side of the road. The bus trip was straight forward and we followed the crowds to buy tickets, catch the monorail up the hill and go into the cave. A young man who was in the queue in front of me kindly asked in English if we understood what the woman had been saying. I had grasped some of it – no wifi, can (or maybe can’t) take photos, and would you like to buy these lovely postcards. He clarified that we were allowed to take photos.

The cave was lovely – because of the lighting and its size – similar to the one we visited in Halong Bay. Our young friend confirmed our suspicion that the bulk of the guide’s words were anthropomorphising the rocks around us, and, more importantly, that Raymond was not missing out on any geological information that he would have been sad to not hear. Our new friend was studying at a university in 深圳 (Shēnzhèn) in south-east China towards a degree awarded by a British university. That was why he had good English. We talked about why he had made that choice. He wants to study and live overseas to ‘be free’. When we talked about differences in approaches to study between his course and Chinese courses, he again used the term ‘freedom’. I asked if part of the plan was that his family would live overseas too – he pointed to his younger sister (about 12 years old) and said that it depended on what she chose.

After the cave, we caught the bus back to town and walked to Elephant Trunk Hill. As with the tourist infrastructure at Reed Flute Cave, it looked tired – like it had been a tourist attraction for a long time and not much maintenance had been done. But it was pleasant to look out over the city and then wander around the lake. We also found the place where our cruise boat left that evening, so that we wouldn’t be stressed looking for it later – which was just as well.

We went back to our hotel for a rest and came down to the lobby with plenty of time to get a taxi to where the cruise boat left, but there were none outside the hotel. The concierge rang the taxi company and said one would be there shortly. After a while, she came over and said – it is Chinese New Years Eve, all the drivers are home with their families. By this time, it was too late for us to walk. She pulled out her phone to order a Didi. I pulled out my phone to use our Didi and fortunately there was one car available – all you need. We got there with a bit of time to spare, but it was not the relaxed journey we had planned. It is the only time in 18 months that we have not felt there is spare capacity galore.

The cruise was beautiful – lights, water and Chinese traditional architecture. The photos speak for themselves.

Our third day we took a tour up to 龙脊 (Lóngjĭ = Dragon backbone) rice terraces. Reminiscent of the rice terraces in Sapa, Vietnam. Our tour included a show about hair washing traditions of the local ethnic tribe.

The next day we headed down the river on a cruise. This is where we saw the karst formations like Halong Bay, including the place shown on China’s 20 kuai note. The cruise was very pleasant – very crowded, but we now have ‘traveling in crowd strategies’ up our sleeves. After the Chinese monologue saying ‘nothing much’ according to the young girl with good English sitting next to us, we joined the throng on the outside deck. From here, we could see we were part of a convoy of boats heading down the river – in front of and behind us. However, we went back up onto the outside deck while everyone else was having lunch and enjoyed the tranquility. We also stayed up on deck after passing the ’20 kuai note’ and ‘horses on the cliff’ more famous places, after which most of our fellow travelers went back downstairs.

We had then booked to stay in 阳朔 (Yángshuò), rather than catch the bus back to 桂林 (Guìlín) like the others in our tour. Our guide said that it would be chaotic where the boats arrive and offered to organise a ride for us. I expressed concern at the proposed cost, not fully trusting her to be accurate about the chaos or the possibility of getting alternative transport. Eventually she said that she had arranged a ride at a reduced rate with some others also staying in 阳朔 (Yángshuò). We followed her through what could accurately be described as chaos. When she met our driver, they began a screaming match, ostensibly about our hotel being so far out of town that he could not possibly drive all the way for such a low fare. Then she turned to us and said we needed to give her more money – how could we say no? We will never know if this theatre was a genuine attempt to save us money, or friends working hard together for another NZD20.

So, we, along with four others, bundled into his small van. Maybe he was worth the extra money – for about ten minutes, he reversed, at speed, all the way along a narrow road with a sheer drop to the river we had just left, before getting to the part where he could turn and drive forwards. He dropped us at, well more accurately near, our hotel and drove away, leaving us looking around hoping we were at the right place – which we were – a beautiful place away from the main hustle and bustle, looking down on the river and town. Another enjoy traveling with the crowds strategy.

The next day, we took our hostess’ advice and walked down to the river, caught the ferry across, walked into town, and rented a couple of bikes to ride on the road where no cars are allowed. When we heard of such a road, we couldn’t help ourselves. We slipped onto a kiwi mindset and imagined a quiet space, even if we were sharing it with a reasonable number of people. When will we learn? ‘No cars’ means ‘not many cars’ and there were so many bicycles, scooters and buses. Raymond and I actually lost sight of each other at one point, and then took a while to reconnect because I went ahead, but he thought I was behind him.

We stood with the crowds watching abseiling, looked at the hole in the rock from afar, enjoyed various snacks from the ever present street food vendors, and then took a side road along by the river away from the main crowds. Because we had spent most of the previous day on the water, we didn’t go rafting but enjoyed sitting by the river watching others. A main reason that we can enjoy traveling with crowds is that we both prefer beauty over fame and most Chinese are the opposite.

We then walked to the centre of this small town. We stopped to watch a free impromptu bamboo stick dance. An older woman and her husband sat next to me watching. She asked her husband to take a photo of us together, and then he insisted that one of the dancers also pose with us. We then spent several hours relaxing at the outside tables of a Western restaurant, sipping drinks and people watching. On our way back to our accommodation, we stopped to buy a small twirly toy that Raymond thought would be good for physics teaching. The young girl manning the stall looked nervously at the older woman at the stall next to her and told us a price. Then an older woman swooped in and told us a price four times that, while glaring at the younger girl (her daughter?). I said firmly 太贵了 (tài guì le = too expensive) and walked away. At the next stall that had these toys, the woman quoted us the same price that the young girl had given us (NZD2). I just paid it, no negotiation, as a reward for not trying to rip us off. So she did well out of the whole drama. Raymond was very amused.

Our last day we traveled the other way to a smaller village – very pleasant and crowded, but to us the noteworthy experience was catching the local bus. We caught it from the side of the road near our accommodation, so the seats were already full when we got on. We perched up the front behind the driver, sharing that non-seat space with an older gentleman. As more and more people got on, we moved our feet to make room for their bags of vegetables, and enjoyed the banter and laughter of these older people traveling with us. They seemed relativley poor, with bodies and wrinkles indicating a tough life,  but happy.

That evening, we went to a light show held in a stunning natural amphitheatre – on the water with the karst hills around. To give an idea of how crowded this region is during Chinese New Year, that evening, they offered four shows instead of one – all fully booked. Reviews online have been mixed. We thought that the choreography using lights, the beauty of the environment, water, and large numbers of performers was stunning – sorry, hard to capture in photos.

But we are easily pleased. We continue to enjoy the beauty, hospitality, fascinating differences and challenges (with associated humour) of our adopted home.

 

 

 

Bĕijīng – a mixed bag

We have just spent a week in Bĕijīng.  It started badly with disempowering and scamming, then improved greatly, to be pleasantly surprising and wowing.

Disempowered

Our first activity in Bĕijīng was to apply for our Russian visas. In my experience, applying for a visa is one of the world’s more disempowering activities, and the Russian visa process took this to a whole new level. Disempowering factor 1 – we live in Chéngdū where there is no visa office, but we have to turn up in person, so we had to arrange our travel to include a week in Bĕijīng – fortunately not too difficult because we wanted to visit anyway. Disempowering factor 2 – we have to have booked flights and accommodation to get the visa, but if they don’t give us the visa, we can’t use any of it. Disempowering factor 3 – we filled in the online form, and turned up with all our documents as outlined on the website, but felt that the rules about what was and was not okay were being made up as we sat there. Our photos were not on shiny photographic paper so we had to have them redone. New Zealanders don’t need insurance so my person wanted me to change my online form to say that I did not have any. But, I do, I said. I don’t want to lie. I do not understand why we cannot leave it there. Eventually her manager noticed the stroppy woman querying her staff member, came over, and said that while it was not mandatory, I could leave it there. The manager also said, when I insisted that my person go and ask her, that I did not have to redo my online form because the system had added a space in the middle of the six digit postcode on the printed version of my application. Disempowering factor 4 – the prices for New Zealanders are higher than for Chinese people – ‘don’t take any notice of those prices, they are defined by country, yours are higher’. Disempowering factor 5 – ‘we only take cash, and because you didn’t know the price for you is greater, you don’t have enough cash on you. So, off we went to find the nearest ATM. Disempowering factor 6 – because of disempowering factor 1, we can only find out a day before we leave whether or not we have the visas.

Fortunately, we got them yay!

Scammed

After the visa office, we headed off to the Forbidden City and Tiānānmén Square. When we got there, a charming man came up to us and let us know that the Forbidden City is closed on Mondays for repairs. He invited us to go and see an art exhibition’ for free’. We followed him and saw some Chinese art – which he invited us to purchase. Raymond was tempted, but I said no, we already have to much. He showed us ones he had drawn as a ‘student of art at the university’. He then picked up a brush and drew my Chinese name on a piece of paper, suggested I could have it hung on a silk background. I declined, but paid him for my hand written name – more than it was worth, but not so much that we really minded.

We then continued walking, thinking we would get a sense of the lie of the land for our visit the next day. A friendly voice called out hello and we started talking to a couple of teachers from Xiān – one teaching English and one teaching Chines literature – who were in Bĕijīng for training. A friend who was studying Chinese medicine was also with them. They suggested we have a cup of tea together, and we walked to a tea house. They ordered a few different sorts of tea and we had a lovely time conversing about China and New Zealand. They then suggested we have a glass of wine together for Christmas so we did that – with me starting to feel a little uncomfortable. They suggested a second, but by this time, I was starting to feel quite uncomfortable. I had mentioned to Raymond as we traveled on the subway about our friend Rachel’s Bĕijīng story that she had told us last year when we were in London. She and her friends had been scammed by a tea house thing. I started to think maybe we had fallen for it as well – but how could I think that – they were so nice and interesting, and interested, and they were teachers, and they weren’t from Beijjing, so how could they be ripping us off – or were they?

I was starting to do sums in my head of what might be reasonable, while Raymond was blissfully chatting away in we are all friends mode. We were in a separate room, just us, and we had never seen a menu. They suggested we pay half each, and asked for the bill. It was five, or maybe ten, times the going rate! I queried the amount. They brought out the menu with the exorbitant prices on. As they presented the bill , one of them, continuing the friends’ ambience that had sucked us in in the first place, even suggested we exchange emails.

I was gearing up to resist, but Raymond’s ‘we pay bills’ and ‘they are so friendly’ attitudes were in full swing, so he had paid by the time I decided it was exactly the scam Rachel had warned us of. They then had the gall to suggest we go to the Square together, I told them they had ripped us off and stomped off down the road – more annoyed at myself for being so gullible and slow thinking. It is hard to describe how we were so slow to react because of the clever way they treated us like friends, throwing in a bit of flattery. I also think we foreigners (well Raymond and me anyway) can be a little arrogant and assume people want to talk to us, especially because we have English. So, they played on that too.

By the time we were half way down the road, we had worked out what we should have done – but it was too late. It took all my self-control not to go over and over it in my mind for the rest of that day, and some of the next. Two things helped me – ‘it is only money’, and ‘between the four of them they were not making that much money each’. I moved to feeling compassion for how hard up they must be to have to earn their money that way. But, it hurt for a while – how could we fall for it when I had been warning Raymond as we traveled in on the subway, and feeling betrayed by ‘friends’.

It was so different to our experience with the art guy. He clearly wanted to take our money, but in exchange for something, and it was clear what was going on the whole time. He was charming, but not pretending to want to be our friend.

As soon as we got back to our hotel, Raymond checked with his Chinese colleague and friend from school whether or not we could cancel the payment. We couldn’t. But Damon made us laugh when he said ‘I have told you to be careful., and not trust any Chinese, not even me’. Actually, we are grateful for the many positive experiences we have had in Chéngdū, and our friends like Damon.

Here is Raymond still innocent, walking across the bridge, through the archway onto the walkway where we met our ‘friends’, and, the next day, outside the fateful tea house.

Pleasantly surprised

We were pleasantly surprised by Bĕijīng’s air quality. The government, in its new five year plan, is determined to deal with the pollution in Chinese cities, starting with the capital. An example of how quickly things can happen once a decision is made to change things, they recently turned off the coal fires warming Bĕijīng, and switched to natural gas. It certainly worked. Every day was beautiful sunshine and clear blue skies. Although, we heard that the natural gas supply did not quite meet the heating needs of the wider population, so some rural people in this region suffered in cold houses to achieve the environmental targets.  Another interesting example of socialism, north of a certain latitude (Chéngdū is south of this, Bĕijīng is north of this), the Chinese government provides heating free of charge for everybody during the winter months.

We also found the city very easy to get around on the subway. And, like Chéngdū, it has many interesting places and buildings. I think we are turning into big city folk – we like crowds who you can follow to tourist spots, and the convenience of restaurants, shops and transport being close to everywhere you go.

Wowed

Finally, we were wowed by experiencing more of China’s amazing history.

The terrain where the Great Wall stands today was first used about 500BC, and further developed a few hundred years later . Its present form was developed about 700 years ago. Iis so impressive seeing it wind up and down over the hills, and to walk on it thinking how long it has been used to defend this empire. And what an engineering feat it was when it was built. Like other great structures from earlier times, I would not want to have been the manual labour, but it is still mind blowing in its achievement.

Then, the history of the Forbidden City and the Summer Palace fascinated us – especially because we both recently read of the Empress Dowager Cixi who influenced China in the second half of the 19th century and the first quarter of the twentieth. She and her sons lived in these two palaces so we walked around the Summer Palace lake picturing her having walked the same path. It was sad to read of how the Europeans destroyed some of the grandeur of both of these buildings in the mid 1800s. Empress Cixi really wanted to restore the grandeur of the Summer Palace – allegedly stealing money from the Chinese navy to do it.

It was moving to stand in Tiānānmén Square. It was quite empty and cold, but we reflected on that moment in history that we westerners remember. The National Museum on the edge of the Square was not so impressive. The building is amazing, but the building’s design seemed to make it hard to find exhibits, and those we did find were not as informative, or national, as others we have seen elsewhere.

We also went to an acrobatic show. It was traditional Chinese acrobatics, such as I remember from circuses coming to Auckland in the early 70s. But, it is always great to see what people can do with their bodies, the total trust these teams have to have of their fellow acrobats – such as when they had seven motorbikes riding around in a relatively small metal sphere, or nine women riding on one bicycle. I was reminded that China is where many of those traditional forms of entertainment began.

So, a mixed experience – a day of humility followed by three days of wonder.

 

Second winter in Chéngdū

This winter is very different to our first one a year ago. Back then, everything was still new and different and we were getting used to winter versus summer Chéngdū. This time around, things seem so much more normal.

We have our regular weekday routine:

  • Raymond wakes early, does a bit of work, showers and breakfasts, then brings me a cup of tea before going to catch the school bus at 7.20am
  • I revise Chinese characters, shower and breakfast, and have my online Chinese lesson at 8.30am, then head to work to start about 10am. I may catch a public bus or bike using one of our two bike sharing options.
  • The school bus brings Raymond home about 5pm. I have tended to catch the bus or bike home from work to meet him at this time. However, as work gets busier, I may not get home til after 6pm.
  • Then our standard evening routine is to cook dinner, watch TV, and head to bed.

Apart from the Chinese learning, this could have described our life in New Zealand. Of course, the work stuff is a little different in its details!

Our weekends are more different – increasingly familiar in their routine – market, friends, shopping – maybe a bit of exploring and still usually something to make us laugh at the unexpected and test our problem solving skills.

However, over the last month a few things, specific to winter here, struck me afresh:

  • Covers on the handles of our apartment doors – we assume these are there so that the metal handles will not be so cold to our touch when we open and shut the doors. It only gets down to about 4 degrees Celsius – not that cold. We even got a tiny one, with our apartment name embroidered on it, surreptitiously put on the handle of the door to our apartment
  • Beautiful reds and yellows of the trees’ leaves changing colours
  • Gardeners in our apartment covering plants with plastic bed covers to protect them from the cold
  • Our morning routine of looking at our air quality indicator (AQI) app to see if we need to wear masks – we don’t if it is green, yellow or orange, but if the AQI gets to red ‘affects everybody’, we put on our masks. We have both had colds, and noticed the air quality affecting us, so decided we should be more risk averse than last year. Chengdu only gets mask-bad air quality for a few months and doesn’t get to brown or purple, so it could be worse.

 

You know China is changing you when …

A little while ago, I read a blog ’50 ways a foreigner becomes more Chinese’. I identified with nearly half of them (I didn’t do so well on the Chinese spouse, son fluent in Chinese, or ones to do with China’s drinking culture). I also had some more of my own to add.

First, those I identified with from his blog are (using italics to show the bits from his blog):

  1. While mystified the first time I was served a glass of hot water, I now like it, especially in winter. I can go a step further and share my work tea habit. I put half a packet of green tea in my cup and add hot water from the shared water stand throughout the day until, at the end of the day, it is almost hot water.
  2. I know the Chinese zodiac sign I was born under – (rat).
  3. Seldom worry about personal safety, even walking in big cities at night.
  4. Have a Chinese keyboard on my phone – now I use this to input place names into the Chinese maps app, to practice ‘spelling’ words on my flashcards, and to write messages in Chinese to my language partner.
  5. Grocery shop using my bicycle – the bike sharing apps that have taken China by storm since we arrived are brilliant for travelling the distance to our nearest big supermarket.
  6. Have to remember to tip when I am traveling abroad – well as a kiwi, I was like that anyway, but I love that we don’t have to tip here either.
  7. Wonder why public spaces there look so empty – this really resonated. On my recent trip to New Zealand, I couldn’t believe how empty Queen St in the centre of Auckland looked
  8. Smile automatically when I see a small child, and may ask a baby’s age or name – I have just started saying hello to children, more for their parents who tend to be so delighted their child can practice English with a native speaker, and it is just nice to connect.
  9. Consider vendor’s prices only a reference point for haggling – at the shops around our food market. But, we are not very good at it, mainly because we feel so wealthy in comparison. We have learned that if we pay full price, they feel obliged to give us a gift or a bit of a discount anyway.
  10. Use the China Union Pay card: I never leave home without it – this is only different because this is the dominant ATM system here, which I had never heard of before. More than that, we have become a couple who hardly ever use a card or cash. Our most common form of payment now is Alipay using our phones and QR codes.
  11. Love tearjerker Chinese history dramas on TV – I started watching my first one to help my language learning. I watch it when Raymond is away and am about 15 episodes in. I don’t understand much of the Chinese, but can pick up enough to become engrossed in the story. I cried when the heroine threw herself into the grave of the hero who died rather suddenly (it is alright, they dragged her back out). I think he was poisoned on the orders of the guy who always looks smugly evil and keeps a falcon in a cage – no idea why he wanted him dead. I love the costumes and the dramatization of ancient China – think Downton Abbey set in China. I recently found out that the kick ass heroine is based on a real person – even better.
  12. Calculate, automatically, yuan equivalents of dollar prices in my head – we now switch between both worlds, earning in yuan and using yuan daily for over a year, but still using NZD as the definitive reference for cheap or expensive, it helps that multiplying and dividing by five is so easy.
  13. Am amazed at how much stuff costs in Western countries – well food anyway. I am sometimes surprised by how cheap other stuff is, and sometimes surprised by how expensive things can be, like that beautiful NZD2,000 dress I tried on when hunting for a dress for Aaron and Sally’s wedding. There is the full range of stuff here, but food is very cheap, except when going to a western restaurant, which we seldom do.
  14. Make fun of western ‘Chinese food’ back home – and wonder what Chinese people make of it – they probably feel how I felt when I couldn’t even eat the burger at Lìjiāng airport.
  15. Keep transit card on me at all times – I am going to miss the public transport so much when I return to New Zealand.
  16. Check air pollution conditions several times a day –as a Bĕijīnger this guy has to do this all year round (although this seems to have changed recently) – in Chéngdū we only do this for the three winter months.
  17. Check Wechat throughout the day, make phone calls on Wechat – my lifeblood here, crucial for work and social connections, used ahead of email by locals. Most days I discipline myself to look at Facebook in the morning in case someone has said something important.
  18. Love candied crabapples – tart on the inside and sweet on the outside
  19. Have no problem with squat toilets, which actually are more natural – in fact, now I choose to use the squat toilet at work because it is a form of regular exercise, and I think being able to squat to rest in your old age would be amazing.
  20. Surprised and dismayed by how little the world knows about China – and how ignorant and wrong I used to be. Somehow I absorbed an image in the 1970s of it as backward, boring and miserable, supported by images of everyone wearing drab blue matching outfits. How wrong can one be!
  21. Stare briefly at anyone who doesn’t appear to be Chinese on buses, subways or aeroplanes – because we are usually the only westerners somewhere, and we can’t see ourselves, so looking at a westerner seems increasingly weird.

My additions are

  1. China is my reference point when travelingduring my recent trips to Vietnam and New Zealand, I observed myself comparing what I was seeing to Chengdu and China. I was fascinated by Vietnam’s link to China through the centuries, including seeing Chinese characters in its temples. As for Europe, it is obvious that there have been changing borders and various invasions and resisting those invasions. But, I was so unaware of it, with my view of Vietnamese history being limited to the Eurocentric French colonising and American meddling, only a tenth of the just under 1,000 years that China ruled Vietnam.
  1. See New Zealand with new eyeseven on my last trip to New Zealand, I viewed Auckland, Rotorua and Palmerston North through Chinese eyes – not so much Wellington because it is so familiar after living there for 30 years that my ‘I feel so at home’ process kicked in. I was surprised how unsophisticated I felt these places were. I was especially struck by Queen St, the centre of our biggest city, having hardly any high buildings, virtually no shops and looking so deserted. So many people were wearing black, and track pants and running shoes were more common than smart casual in the middle of town. I think I was particularly sensitive to this because I am advising potential students and many want to go to Auckland because they like big cities. I will have to work on managing their expectations. If anything, Wellington was more bustling in its city centre. Of course, New Zealand is also stunningly beautiful everywhere, and has clear blue skies, real wind and rain.
  1. Feel defensive on China’s behalfwhen our dear friends from New Zealand visited, I observed another thing about myself. I want people to like our new home and be interested in it – even if they are not as fascinated as we are. But, they weren’t. They were just here to visit us and understand our lives here, which is of course nice in its own way. And, when we were on the bus coming down from Éméi Shān traveling beside the longest traffic jam I have ever seen winding its way up the two lane highway, Lawrie quite reasonably suggested a wider road would be desirable. I found myself feeling quite defensive on China’s behalf. China is actually big enough to look after itself, and like New Zealand is imperfect. But, in the way that I love New Zealand and want people to see how amazing it is, I have similarly become emotionally attached to China as my second home.
  1. Fascinated by ChinaI continue to be an avid student of all things China. Most of my spare time is spent learning the language. I keenly observe everything around me and try to talk to others to find out more and more. It can be exhausting, but is also rewarding.

Dipping my toe into politics

Last month was an interesting time to be a kiwi living in China.

Back in New Zealand, there was an election in which no party had a clear majority. New Zealand First (or was it Winston Peters?) held the balance of power, to decide whether New Zealand would have a centre left or centre right government for the next three years. He/they leaned left and now there are going to be all sorts of policy changes after nine years of centre right government. My heart and mind is more left than right and has a greenish hue, so I support many of the new directions planned by this three party coalition.

But I am left wondering if there isn’t a better way to choose leaders and run a country.

At much the same time, China held its 19th National Congress of the Communist Party of China – a five yearly event. More than 2,200 representatives met in Beijing to approve the Party plan for the next five years. These representatives were selected throughout the year before the Congress. Apparently, for this Congress, they worked to increase the number of ethnic minorities, women and peasants attending – laudable, but it suggests under representation of these groups previously.

I am not sure how much the delegates can influence the outcomes. I think their role is more to take it back home and extol its virtues. But, I am impressed by how each plan is developed. A drafting committee works with investigative research teams to develop a ‘report’. The draft report is then reviewed by party groups, government institutions, the Army, various large organisations, retired party elders, various forums, leading specialists and other political parties. (Yes, China actually has nine parties, not just one as I thought. The Communist Party is by far the largest, with 85 million members. The next biggest party has half a million and the smallest has only about 30,000.)

President Xi Jinping’s more than three hours long opening speech for the Congress was titled “Secure a decisive victory in building a moderately prosperous society in all respects and strive for the great success of socialism with Chinese characteristics for a new era”. TV commentators on our Chinese English-language TV channel unpicked the speech and discussed terms such as ‘moderate prosperity’ and ‘socialism with Chinese characteristics’. I don’t know exactly what is in it, but the descriptions on our English news channel, and related discussion with Western and Chinese commentators, suggested policies that support what matters to me, and seemed both forward thinking and common sense.

As we watched the news, we were struck by the ability of the Chinese government to plan long term and make things happen. In the last thirty years, they have lifted 800 million people out of poverty – yes, 800 million! Okay, things were pretty dire, and definitions of poverty vary. But it is still 70% of the world’s poverty reduction over that period of time. And they know there are 70 million still to be lifted out – part of the next plan.

Living here, one cannot help but be struck by how rapidly China is moving from being a developing to developed country – in some ways already more developed than New Zealand. China’s long term plans for poverty alleviation, education, health, environment, economic growth, infrastructure building etc are transforming China so quickly. They do not rely on market forces, or individuals making wise choices, and don’t need to convince everyone what a great idea it is, so they can make rapid progress on many fronts. For example, on environmental issues, they are mandating electric vehicles, rapidly moving to use solar and wind power, and reducing deserts at the rate at which they used to be increasing.  Similarly, the government can act quickly to hinder property speculation to ensure affordable housing, and prioritise investment in agricultural innovation to be able to feed its people – 21% of the world’s population, with only 9% of the world’s land. Even in the 15 months, we have lived here, we have seen mind-blowing infrastructure development in our ‘tier 2’ city.

In his speech, the President also positioned China, as a strong, rich nation (now with the world’s second largest economy, on track to become the number one economy) as a responsible global power committed to tackling shared dangers such as climate change.

It is easy, as a westerner to feel nervous of China seeking growing international influence. But our TV commentators – two Westerners and one Chinese – commented that we are nervous of China being like the US or the European countries when they were the most powerful countries in the world. In my lifetime, the US has dominated using a bully model, and insisted on countries being like them. As the ex-Australian ambassador interviewed said, that works well for countries like Australia that already think like the US, but it hasn’t worked so well for others. The Chinese guy interviewed quoted a Malaysian leader saying that Malaysia is not nervous of China. Six hundred years ago, when China was powerful, they forged a relationship with Malaysia ‘based on mutual respect and trust’, unlike Great Britain. They trust them to do the same this time.

 

Of course, I know we do not have the whole story. The news in China is controlled, and tends to catch people being good. So we see examples of policies working, innovation and success. It has made me realise how much New Zealand’s news is trivial or focuses on negative and sensational things – catching people being bad. Neither approach is ideal, whether needing to be ‘interesting’ to sell news and increase ratings, or limiting news to a sanitised selection of things that are going well.

Living here has really challenged my assumption that democracy is best. Democracy now seems so inefficient. Every time a new government comes to power it has to undo some of what the last regime put in place, and return to priorities from the last time it was in power. And, so much time and energy is devoted to convincing the country that one’s ideas are best. I wouldn’t mind if I felt we were all voting based on a solid evidence base, a deep understanding of each party’s policies and selfless consideration for what is best for New Zealand. But, none of us do. Living outside New Zealand for the recent election, I wanted to understand what each party’s policy was. I found a good site that pulled together what each party said about its own policies. But, I confess I found it too much to digest. And I have a relatively high capacity for reading lots of text, and had more time than usual to research because I was not busy looking after children, or parents, or working full time. Instead, most of what people think politically, comes from preconceived ideas and sound bites shared through various media.

During New Zealand’s hiatus waiting to see who would lead the country for the next three years, one commentator suggested that National, the centre right party, and Labour, the centre left party, could consider forming a coalition. I thought, wouldn’t that be amazing? Imagine if they could work together to research what works well and then negotiate solutions that New Zealand could follow for decades and implement really well.

But, they can’t because they have a brand to maintain – what I now think of as the biggest weakness of democracy.

Brand development and maintenance, and the associated marketing, determines the outcomes of elections. Parties cannot afford to agree with other parties even if it makes sense. Next election they will lose support. The Maori Party in New Zealand seems to have been a victim of brand erosion. They opted to work with the centre right party to achieve something, and, in the recent election, lost the support of their traditional voters who saw them as giving up on their ‘brand’.

I have never really understood how the Westminster system, in which an opposition party’s main job seems to be to find fault with everything the other party does, can be a good thing. If we worked like that in families, organisations or business, nothing would ever be agreed or get done. Negotiating until we find win-win solutions makes it possible to work with others. I think select committees are supposed to help achieve this, but I don’t know enough of what really goes on in them to know if this ends up happening. If it does, it is certainly not obvious to the average person voting by brand.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the openness and transparency of New Zealand, and the freedom to say what you think. Those adjectives do not describe China, even with anti-corruption initiatives underway. And China is particularly vulnerable to ‘problems with leaders’.

It seems to me that everyone wants similar things, whether in New Zealand or China, left or right leaning. We want respect and valuing of all human beings, the ability to work and provide for ourselves and those we love, a safety net for whoever who is in need, a healthy economy, an environment that we would want our grandchildren to live in, education that empowers people and prepares us all for the future, a health system that means we are all looked after, affordable housing etc. Our differences are more about how we believe it is possible to achieve them.

In a brand free world, it seems more possible to take the time to work out solutions together that could last. I wonder if, as the pace of change accelerates, it is more or less important to think long term. In one sense, it seems less important because things will change in ways we can’t predict anyway. But in another sense, I suspect we lack the luxury of having time to take cheap shots at others to score political points, and the inefficiency of changing back and forth may matter more.

Now that I am challenging my assumptions, I dream that New Zealand could apply global (or is it western?) social science research about what works well in businesses, organisations and families and replace its 1800s designed Westminster system with a 21st century political environment focused on win-win, evidence-based solutions.

‘Chinese characteristics’ – mutual respect, being fair and balanced, and win-win co-operation – combined with the innovation, pragmatism, openness and transparency on which we New Zealanders pride ourselves, might help us get there – but, alas, probably not in my lifetime.

 

 

 

 

Warm tips for travelling in Chinese holidays

Among Raymond’s colleagues, the standard recommendation when talking about traveling during Chinese national holidays is to travel out of China because of the crowds. With the growing middle class in China, popular tourist spots definitely get crowded when a billion people are all on holiday at the same time. But, as for teachers worldwide, our holidays tend to fall when others are on holiday. And we want to explore as many as possible of the beautiful places in our adopted home.

So, we are learning to enjoy holidaying in the beautiful places that we most want to visit, while sharing them with thousands of others – not how kiwis are used to enjoying beauty.

So, what have we learned, and how did we apply this on our recent trip to 張家界 (Zhāngjiājié) aka Avatar Mountains?

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Expect crowds

A year ago, on our first trip to a national park, 九寨沟(Jiŭzhàigōu), I was momentarily overwhelmed by the number of people. I was fine fighting my way through the crowds at the turnstiles and to get on the bus to go up, but once we got there I couldn’t cope. This was not rational – if lots of people are getting on buses, they will all be there when we get off. But, I had to throw off decades of experience of national parks being places of tranquillity as well as of beauty.

So the first thing I did differently was to expect crowds.

Stay as near as possible to the scenic spot

One thing we did well this trip was to stay at a small guesthouse just inside the west entrance to the park. From here it was a five-minute walk to the bottom of the 杨家界(Yángjiājié) cable car, where a couple of walks began and we could catch the free bus to the east. This meant that each morning, we could start early before the crowds began to arrive in cars or on the buses. It was also nice at the end of the day to catch the cable car down and not have to navigate more crowds to get ‘home’.

We also enjoyed the relative tranquillity of staying in a small settlement of only a few houses. The disadvantage was that we only had that guesthouse as an option for meals, but it simplified things and the meals were pleasant and reasonable. You can see in the photo below the simple environment in which our host family catered for the 20ish guests.

Interestingly,  being limited to only true Chinese food for four days meant that our first visit to McDonalds after 15 months in China was at the top of a mountain in a stunning national park. We had walked for hours, it was drizzling and cool, and, as we walked past, we both thought that we would love a burger and chips aka comfort food.

Book tickets ahead of time

National holidays are not the time to be flexible and decide as you go what you will do and where you will stay. We booked our accommodation and transport well ahead of time, although this was not straight forward.

We wanted to catch the sleeper train there and back, but missed out on tickets both ways. A month before travel we could buy the tickets with our preferred app Ctrip, but sleeper train tickets were already sold out, as I found out too late when I was poised ready to buy tickets the second they became available. So we flew there (just over an hour), and caught two 6-7 hour day trains back with an overnight stay in 宜昌(Yíchāng). Catching the train was certainly an experience, and good for blogging – time and content. But we need to find out how to book sleeper trains before they become available! Or we might fly – not even double the price, and a tenth of the time.

We first used Ctrip to book our accommodation too, but then a friend found lower prices on another western accommodation booking site, so we cancelled and used that site for both our accommodation options. However, when I rang our place in the park to ask them to organise a taxi from the airport to their hostel, the woman commented that our prices were cheaper than their national holiday rate. I agreed to her higher price because it matched our earlier deal, seemed fair, and I didn’t want them to be upset before we arrived. Later that day, our second accommodation option cancelled because of ‘special circumstances’. I wonder if this could be loosely translated as ‘we could sell your room for a higher rate’. I suspect Ctrip with its China focus has a mechanism for increasing the prices during national holidays, so will use it for future bookings.

We could buy tickets to enter the park easily enough. Following the recommendation of our place in the park hostess, we booked tickets for a show on our third evening, which was just as well because the large theatre was packed. And, an earlier showing was leaving as we arrived – some things bring home how many people are in this country.

She also suggested booking tickets for 天门 (Tiānmén) Mountain for our fifth day. This is a popular tourist spot near our second accommodation in 張家界 (Zhāngjiājié) town. We were not ready to make that decision on day one, never quite got around to deciding while we were with her, and then missed out on being able to go up in the 天门 (Tiānmén) Mountain cable car. We opted not to spend most of the day winding up into the mist and back down again on a bus, deciding instead to visit the canyon and glass bridge a couple of hours away. But those tickets were also sold out. So we caught the bus to the museum in 張家界 (Zhāngjiājié) town, but couldn’t find it, even after asking some locals. As a last resort, we just relaxed, which means Raymond went for a run and read, and I had a snooze and revised Chinese.

Dithering and national holidays do not go together.

Accept the process

The good news is that the infrastructure here is designed for thousands. As in 九寨沟(Jiŭzhàigōu), we were so impressed by the wide paths that wind through the beauty and cope with the crowds, and the many free buses ferrying people between attractions. We are experts at waiting our turn to take photos that make it look like we are the only ones there.

We stick to the paths, follow the signs (or ask for advice), and wait patiently in line to get on and off the buses. Sometimes we asked the friendly guides controlling people getting onto the buses which one goes where we want to go by pointing at the map, or where the walking path we want to go on starts.  Sometimes we worked it out ourselves and got it right and other times we went solo and got it wrong. Twice other passengers helped us out. Three times I asked the bus drivers for help. Two were very helpful, said to sit immediately behind them, and then told us where to get off. The third told us to get off immediately.  I think he knew he wasn’t going where we wanted to go. However, when I tried to clarify to be sure, he did that thing one does with people you believe don’t properly understand you and increased his volume – a lot – loudly shouting 下车(xiàchē), ‘get off the bus!’ – so we did.

Interestingly, it is more similar to being in a New Zealand national park than you might expect. There, one also needs to stick to the paths, follow the signs, and sometimes ask for advice. The difference is that there are no buses, guides, crowds – or shops, including MacDonalds and KFC, and monkeys, and the paths are not made of stones. I imagine it must freak Chinese tourists out.

Enjoy the path less traveled

One of the highlights of our trip was the morning that we chose not to take the 杨家界(Yángjiājié) cable car, but walk up instead. Only one other group of four was on the path for the first two hours of this walk. It was beautiful, especially because it was below the ever-present mist so we could see the stunning scenery.

Down below, there were no famous tourist spots with eloquent names such as ‘Ape afraid to climb cliff’, ‘Cat fishing’, ‘One step to the heaven’, ‘Waterfall from the sky’, ‘Regretting meeting late’, ‘Golden tortoise in the mist’, ‘Pigsy looking in the mirror’, or, my favourite, ‘Splitting mountain to save mother’.

It was easier to make this decision when the weather was so misty that the views from the top were not so stunning. But it is part of our evolving strategy to avoid the Chinese crowds who seem to prefer the famous over the serene. We can enjoy the latter while fitting in some of the former as well.

Connect with people

Rather than seeing crowds of people as a nuisance, I am learning to see them as an opportunity to connect and better understand China.

At our accommodation, we chatted with half a dozen Irish students, and four Italian students. Having just read that China is now the country with the third highest number of international students, it was interesting to put faces to the statistic.

Despite our small guesthouse being full of westerners, we were usually the only foreigners in a place. So, we stood out, children tended to stare, and parents often encouraged their children to say hello/practice those English lessons they are paying a fortune for. On this trip we developed the habit of being the first to say ‘hello’ to any interested children, which led to several fun conversations with families. One family adopted us walking along Golden Whip Stream. I had a fascinating conversation with the mum about her family’s perception of China. She had good English and works for a company doing business with European countries.

She said they are very happy. The first reason she gave was that she believes China does not have the unrest that other countries have, poignant given that we were walking together just after the Las Vegas shooting. The second reason was that their government is good at getting things done. The latter comment resonates with me. The pace of change here, just since we arrived, is mind-blowing. Democracy certainly has inherent inefficiency. In New Zealand, elected representatives spend about one sixth of their time in government convincing voters that their policy is best in the hope that they will be re-elected. And it is difficult to implement long term change projects because governments are only sure of being in power for the next three years. Also, evidence-based policy is not necessarily the one that appeals to voters, and democracy can be overly influenced by selfish voting. And then, as we are seeing in New Zealand, a party with seven percent support can have a disproportionate level of influence. I have heard that the Chinese system allows grassroots influence through local party groups feeding into higher level groupings all the way to the top. I am sure this system is not perfect, but living here challenges my assumptions that democracy is best. As well as the greater efficiency my ‘mum’ mentioned, China seems to have a baseline view of each human life mattering, a view that seems to be increasingly at risk in western capitalist democracies. I still believe democracy has some advantages, but more clearly see its disadvantages too.

My new friend also said how her father only survived because his mother sent him and his older sister to live with her parents, but his six or seven (nobody knows now) other siblings died of starvation. Her dad tells them off if they complain and reminds them how bad it used to be.

Lining up to catch the cable car down to our accommodation, I used my relatively recently acquired skill of positioning my body so that people cannot push ahead of me in the queue. It took all my skill to keep one woman, who we nicknamed ‘pushy’, behind me. So, Raymond and I were both amused when we ended up sitting in the same small cable car with her and the other four of her family. I said ‘hello’ to her child and we started talking in Chinese, and found out they are from Chengdu. Suddenly, she was not ‘inconsiderate, pushy old woman’. She was ‘fellow grandmother and shared city dweller’. The power of connection.

People watching is fun too

We never get sick of people watching and it is more interesting with crowds. It is entertaining enough in one’s own country, but even more so in another culture. Some of the highlights from our 張家界 (Zhāngjiājié) trip are

  • The shoes women wear. I know the paths are paved and there are buses everywhere, but some women were on the 1-3 hour paths wearing higher heels than I wore to Aaron’s and Sally’s wedding. We saw one woman obviously in discomfort with relatively normal shoes, and another with very high heels choosing to pay the men hovering with sedan chairs to take her down. The sedan chair didn’t look such a safe option to us – the chairs were old and rusty, and we saw a cast off with one of its bamboo poles broken – presumably while someone was being carried down a near vertical slope in it. If I was the sedan chair carriers, I would look at footwear to see who to target. I did feel that a number of people looked askance at my tramping shoes, seeming to think ‘I can’t believe she is happy to be seen in public wearing those’.
  • Propensity for guided tours. We are fascinated by the fact that Chinese, who speak the language and can read all the signs, like to travel with a tour guide. There were flag waving guides everywhere. By contrast, Raymond and I, and other foreigners, who are in a perpetual fog, travel alone – relying on advice in Chinglish and piecing together the puzzle from snippets that various westerners have written online. I talked to my English speaking new friend about this. She said ‘It is also our first time here. We do not know where to stay or what to see, so it is easier to have a guide organise it all for us’. We walked with their group for a while and she told me what the guide was saying. The main value add seemed to be having stories of what the shapes of the various rock formations could be anthropomorphised to be. We are happy with our system.
  • Three acceptable activities on a train trip – watching videos, eating and sleeping. Raymond and I stood out with our blogging and book reading – yes a physical book.
  • Standing seats. On our first train trip – slow train, hard seats, 45 kuai (NZD9) for five hours – our seats were in a row of three facing three others. We had numbers 26 and 27. While we were putting our suitcases up on the luggage rack, a young woman sat in number 27. I said ‘that is my seat’. She pointed to number 25 which was free and better because it was by the window and had a little table, so I sat there thinking we were swapping. Then she moved to sit by her friend and a young guy sat in 27. We will never know if he was the real 25 or had bought a ‘standing seat’ which is where you can stand or, if you are lucky, grab an empty seat. The two guys first sitting opposite us also seemed to be standing seat people, because one got evicted by a couple who got on later, and the other moved to 25 when it became free.
  • First class travellers. On our second train trip – fast train, 350 kuai (NZD70) for seven hours – we splashed out on first class tickets, so the only standing passengers I saw were at the end of the nearest second class carriage by our toilets. Our seats were in a row of two with a power point, foot rests, reclinable seats, hook for hanging coats, convenient deep pockets in the seat in front of us and little tables hidden in our armrest – luxury! The first class carriage seemed a popular choice for mothers or grandmothers sharing one seat with a child. They filled the gap created with no standing passengers, taking their little darlings for a stretch.

 

Live with imperfection

It was disappointing, because of the weather, to not see the park in all its glory. It was disappointing, because of the crowds, to not travel on the longest cable car in the world or see the stunning canyon. I would have preferred not to have the guy opposite me smacking his lips quite so loudly while he was chewing on whatever he was eating. Some of the toilets could be cleaner. But if that is all we have to complain about, things are not so bad. We are having such an adventure, and feel so privileged to be seeing and experiencing all that this amazing journey offers.