Yesterday was a national holiday so I got the day off. Yay! I was a bit bored so I set out with my camera to get some shots of Kagami, my hometown. Of course, I waited until the light started to fade so I could really capture that “I can’t see what’s happening in that photo” look. To remedy this, I cracked out a little program I downloaded and had a fiddle with some of the shots. So here it is, presenting:
“The Kagami Urban Kollection.”
Hardcore: To the Max!
My first Japanese lesson was last night. It went well. It was enjoyable even, something I thought impossible after years of state-funded education had convinced me that anything resembling the act of learning was both dull and pointless. The lesson itself consisted of trying to ascertain what level of Japanese I actually possessed, a more difficult task than you may imagine. I’ve been living in this country for almost 2 years now so I’ve obviously picked up a reasonable amount of vocab in that time. During the long, long summer holiday of 06 I also attempted a few weeks of self study which enlightened me as to some of the grammatical elements of Japanese. However, I didn’t really know how much I’d retained or indeed how much I’d even learnt.
I would class myself as a beginner but I surprised myself with how many words I actually knew, thinking as I did that 0 probably would have been an accurate count. I knew more than 0. This is good. I found myself getting a bit flustered when I was asked questions orally, questions I knew I knew the answer to. Still, I felt I came away with something which is always nice.
Lessons are almost over for this semester. Hikawa have already finished and yatsuno will go the same way next week. This means that, although I still have to go to school during the next few weeks, I won’t have any lessons. This is both good, and bad. Good because I get paid to do nothing. Nothing is expected of me and I am happy to fulfil those expectations. However, not having anything to do and doing nothing are quite different. Doing nothing is a sure-fire way to make every day drag on until it seems like a month. Doing nothing also the best way to get headache, staring at empty computer screens waiting for the bell to ring. It’s frustrating. Luckily this period will be broken up by Hannah and I’s trip to Kyoto from the 28th so at least I get a proper break this time round.The spring break is rapidly approaching. Two (or three in the case of one of my schools) weeks of no lessons even less responsibility. Good shit.
Me and Hannah are heading to Kyoto for a bit in just over a fortnight which cannot come soon enough. Although school life has been pleasantly free of the annoying incidents I once associated with it, I can’t say it won’t be a relief to get out of Kagami. Oh yes.
Also, I’ve decided to get Japanese lessons. This after a mere 1 year and 8 months in the country. I did have the occasional stab at self-study but, with local ALTs having great Japanese and most of my Japanese teachers having great English, the motivation wasn’t really there. However, looking at Hannah whose level is quiet unbelievable after only 8 months of lessons has inspired me. I haven’t deluded myself into thinking I can progress and rapidly as her, this is her third language after all, but it has convinced me that it isn’t too late to start.Unfortunately, we found that most of the infamous street markets of Shanghai, full of dirt cheap brand-name clothing and some of the city’s main attractions, had been closed down, no doubt due to international pressure. No cheap Gucci for you. The Friendship store, a shop opened by the British to supply expats during the Empire, which was still operating according to the Lonely Planet, had also been demolished to make way for a hotel. Because you know, there aren’t enough of those in Shanghai.
We ate out a lot mainly because the food was so good and so cheap. Thanks to the ever-present Lonely Planet in Hannah’s bag, we were able to search out the finest the city had to offer. This included a lovely health food place that we went to twice and a vegetarian place whose tofu dishes were textured and flavoured meat imitations. It was actually unbelievable to me that some of the dishes weren’t meat; the breaded chicken tofu was, in almost every way, exactly the same as actual breaded chicken (minus the fat and gristle).
Also, I got a haircut.
Other adventures led to us encountering the famed People's Park English Corner, a gathering of which we were blissfully unaware. Basically all the English speakers in Shanghai (or so it seemed) decended on the area known as People Park every Sunday to practice English. Into this we stumbled. Having been warned to run screaming from anyone approaching us and speaking English it was probably best that the first thing they said to us was "Don't be afraid." It was rather surreal.Shanghai is probably the only place I’d go back to. Beijing was good but now that the sites have been seen, it offers little incentive to return. Xi’an probably ended up being our favourite city but is so far away that we’d need a reason to go back. Shanghai is an hour and a half’s flight away from Fukuoka and a great place.
The Oriental Pearl. Wouldn't look out of place in Blackpool. Speaking of which...
Look what I found. At the top of one of China's landmark buildings, Blackpool reigns supreme!
Oriental Pearl on the left, Jin Mao in the middle (it's much further back the the rest of the buildings)
Jin Mao Tower. Just...look at it!
It was pretty tall too.
Xi’an, the even more ancient capitol of China was our second stop. After a relatively easy flight we arrived at the airport and were picked up by a happy little chap the hostel had sent. Driving through the ramshackle “towns” we began to become less and less convinced that coming to Xi’an had been a good idea. The mist had settled and the places we were passing through were supremely depressing (think the endless concrete high-rises of the Eastern Bloc). But then, low and behold, the famous Bell Tower emerged and we had arrived at what would arguably be the most enjoyable city we would visited.
Xi’an is interesting because it lies in the centre of China on the border between the Buddhist section and the Muslim section. Because of this, there is an extremely active Muslim Quarter just down the road from where we were staying and after we’d got settled (lovely room, absolutely perfect position) we went for a visit. For the first time in one and a half years I had a donner kebab. It wasn’t even intentional, I simply liked the smell of what some woman was cooking on the street and asked for one. It cost me 1 RMB (about 6p) and it was lovely. Unfortunately I couldn’t find this lady again, nor did anyone else seem to be making them. Sad face.
The rest of the street was equally as interesting, although poor Hannah didn’t find much to eat as most of it was lamb. The fried figs were nice though and the candied fruit sold in the candied fruit market was unbelievable. It was like being in Charlie’s Chocolate Factory if Wonka had preferred a nice bit of pineapple to a Mars Bar. There was also, strangely enough, a shop dedicated entirely to video game collectables. Poor Hannah indeed.
On the second day we set out to find what we had actually come to see; the Terracotta Warriors. This, one of the modern wonders of the world, had been highly recommended from all quarters and was probably the sight I was looking forward to the most. To get to it we took a local bus (12 RMB, just less than a quid, for the hour ride) and were dumped on the edge of a vast car park. We started to walk. It had been snowing that morning and raining the evening before so the ground was awash with slush. Little did I know that my shoes had holes to rival those in a Columbine student’s chest. By the time we’d walked through the hideously abandoned “Tourist Village” I couldn’t feel my feet. It was freezing. It was actually well below freezing if you’re counting (about minus 4 or so) and this did not put me in a good mood. Still, I shook myself out of it and convinced myself the sight of 6000 terracotta warriors in perfect battle formation would cheer me up.
So we finally, finally got to the excavation pits. They were covered over with aircraft hangar-like structures and surrounded by various dull looking concrete exhibition buildings. With the thick mist and layer of snow it really did look abandoned and rather depressing. Anyway, we’d been advised by someone in the Beijing hostel to work backwards, go from pit 3 to 2 to 1 as they increase in size and quality in that order. So, we skipped the first two and headed to Pit 3. It was OK, a rather small area containing 68 soldiers, or so we were told. Nice. Next was pit 2 and the sheer size of the building housing it meant that it couldn’t possibly be disappointing. Indeed, as I neared the perimeter wall enclosing he pit I averted my eyes for a moment, preparing them for the amazing scene below me…
It was indeed big. Huge infact. Massive one might say. One might also describe it as “soldier-less.” Not a single intact warrior stood in the massive hole before me. It was profoundly disappointing. I had expected row on row of pristine terracotta warriors ready for war but all I got was some ancient timber and shattered pottery barely distinguishable from the earth it lay in. Over to the side there were several soldiers on display in glass boxes but these were merely a distraction.
So, with a sinking heart, we made for Pit 1; the big one, the one in which over 6000 soldiers were supposedly discovered. Again, like Pit 3 it was nice…but that was it. There were soldiers here, maybe a few hundred, but nowhere near the figures so often banded about. A sign reliably informed us that most of the soldiers had been destroyed during the Japanese occupation of China or moved into an onsite exhibition centre, which was of course, closed. Considering the conditions we’d seen and the time we’d taken to get there, it was a bit of a disappointment.
(This is the soldier-less Pit 2 by the by. See?)
Ah, Beijing, ancient capitol of an ancient race with tourists coming from all corners of The Almighty’s globe to wonder at her Forbidden City, Mao’s Tianamen Square and the Great Wall of China. City of history, city of the Olympics, city of smells. This last quality led to the rather amusing quote above, as spoken by a random American at the Summer Palace. Even though Hannah and me were in the middle of a small fracas, we couldn’t help but laugh (or at least Hannah couldn’t, I misheard it and though someone was taking the piss out of my hat. You’ll see why in the pictures). The smell of human excrement wafted amongst the shanty-town hutongs and mixed with the smells of barbequing lamb and baking bread. It really was quite a smell.
Beyond the smell were the sights. As our hostel was but an aborted female baby’s throw from Tiananmen, we started there. It’s a square. It is big. Not much else to say really apart from the fact that it was swarming with hawkers trying to sell all sorts of tat (Chairman Mao’s Little Red Book, Chairman Mao watches, Chairman Mao scarves, Chairman Mao’s Little Book of Loving etc etc). Some even went so far as to impart art student personas upon themselves and try and force us to go to “Art Exhibitions” where, according to Lonely Planet we weren’t so tired as to follow them, they try to sell you hugely overpriced “art”. These people did not leave us alone for the majority of the trip, so much so that I made several friends; Buy Now, Real Cheap and Fuck You.
The highlights in Beijing were the Great Wall and the Summer Palace. The Forbidden City was nice, but there are only so many temples and halls one can take. The Summer Palace is exactly what it sounds like; a retreat for fat Emperors hoping the summer air would aid erection. As we went in winter, the huge manmade lake in the centre of it all was completely frozen over with lots of mad Chinese skating around on it like so many lobotomised ice skating people.
The Great Wall, or at least the section we visited, was an hour’s drive from the city. Rather than taking one of the extortionate tours (280 RMB=nearly £20) we got there by ourselves using the extreme cunning we had developed from avoiding Beijing’s infestations of art students. In the end, it cost us 7 RMB each way (about 50p). Once there, we were suitably impressed. Several times while walking along the 15km long section I would stare out at the scenery, imagining a Mongol hoard screaming through the bracken in a bloodlust. In fact, the only Mongolians present were the ones avidly trying to sell me pashminas. After trekking more than the 15km (the entrance was in the middle of the section, forcing us to retrace our steps if we wanted to see the other end) we were absolutely knackered, the cold had numbed and blistered my lips and we wanted to go home.
This was probably my one real experience with bartering. I had seen a lot of Chinese people wearing rather spiffy greatcoats and decided I wanted in on the action. Sure enough, several of the tourist stalls were selling them. The first person I enquired with gave us a price of 150 RMB (£10) but worked herself down to 80 as we walked off. The second offered us an initial price of 580 RMB (well over £40) and I must say I stood a little gobsmacked. She insisted that the other vendor must have said $80. Bollocks. Anyway, there was no way I was going to pay that must for a coat worth less than my dodgy hat so we made to leave. The lady in the store wasn’t having it. After several minutes bartering, and several actual attempts to leave by myself, we got her down to 130 RMB, just less than a tenner. So I said OK and felt rather proud of my bartering skills. Of course, I should have been watching her more closely as she put it into a bag. When we got home we realised she’d swapped the perfectly serviceable coat I’d tried on with one who’s buttons were so mismatched as to make it basically unwearable. The cow.
