We are travelers again, travelers in a land of billions. We have regained our adventurous personas as well as our back-pack toting forms--mine looking more like a giant tortoise and less like a seasoned traveler. My legs are weak and shaky and the muscles on my hips protest loudly, but the more I march to the travelers tune, the stronger I will become, and the lighter my shell will feel.This I know as fact--part of the laws of traveling. For now, I look forward to the day when I don't feel like I'm hauling the world in the contents of my mint-green back pack.
So here we are, laden down with our necessities. We carry our belongings. We carry ourselves. We carry each other. We have arrived in China--Asia proper.
This journey is different from other trips we have taken. Our usual two is company has become three. Matt has joined us, and we are happy to have him. Not only does he provide an extra critically-thinking mind, enjoyable company, and a third-pegging opponent in our cribbage matches, he also possesses wander lust and a wide-eyed appreciation for the natural world. He fits right in.
We arrived in China by boat--the Cosco Star. As we shuffled up the boarding dock to the large vessel we didn't know what to expect. We had purchased the cheapest tickets possible and we were braced and ready for anything--almost anything. I don't believe any of us expected to be placed in a private cabin with downy-soft comforters and a bathroom/shower. Was there a mistake? None of us were about to point it out. That night as the Cosco Star rocked us softly to sleep, I wondered what we would find at the end of the China Sea.
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Hours earlier we stood on Taiwanese ground--the first stop on our travel itinerary. When you say 'Taiwan' most Westerner's automatic and singleminded response is: 'made in Taiwan!'
Of course. It's their claim to fame, their trademark. However, most don't know, or care to know, Taiwan's complicated political history and their ongoing struggle to become or maintain (depending on whose side you're on) a sovereign identity. Many don't even know where in the world Taiwan is located.
An age-old story. The little people want their freedom, and the power in charge says, forget it. The Republic of Taiwan, as the members of the independence movement call themselves, are in a struggle to maintain their sovereignty from The People's Republic of China. Two coalitions clash within the small island; One pulling for democracy, the other tugging towards remaining with the communist state. Childishly, China pretends Taiwan's sixty-year old government and successful capitalistic economy doesn't exist. In their eyes, the islands off the coastline are still under Chinese dominion. During our first week of travel within China we met many people who, upon hearing where we came from, responded, "Ah, Taiwan Province." The declaration of independence has not been heard.
Not only does China refuse to accept it, but so does the World. The United Nations are staying out of this fight, declining to acknowledge Taiwan's claims. And, of course, the world symbol for liberty and justice, the good ole US of A is turning a blind eye towards Taiwan's requisitions. Let's face it, we are too deep in bed with China to do otherwise. China owns our governing official's little green, greedy souls. They wouldn't dare undermine the hand that holds our massive debt.
And so this political dance goes on and on. Only no one will dance with Taiwan. It will most likely join the ghosts of The Republic of the Congo, and other self-declared nations whose fates were decided by powerful players in an aggressive and extrinsically motivated game. They never had a chance. Odds be what they are, I'm still rooting for you, Republic of Taiwan.
Enough with the politics. Continuing on...
Dave and I began our trip in the middle of March when we flew to the capital city, Taipei. A week after our arrival we were joined by Ryan, and another seven days later by Matt. Showing incredible hospitality and impressive linguistic skills, Dave's friend, an American and a six-year resident of Taiwan, introduced us to this beautiful country. Not only did Devin offer-up his home for a month, translate meal after meal of characterized menus for us, and supplied David, Ryan, and I with surf boards, he also drove us full circle around the island giving us the grand tour. We couldn't have asked for a better host, tour-guide, and friend.
Right off the plane the Taiwanese people impressed me with their friendliness. We were given hellos and smiles in excess. By embarking in simple tasks, like buying tokens for the train, we would sometimes become encircled by radiant faces wanting to offer help where it was needed. One afternoon while eating noodles in the park, Dave and I were gifted with a double-thumbs up by a wide-grinning man. We weren't quite sure if his enthusiastic approval was for the noodles we were consuming or for our foreigner-status, but we soon realized that he wasn't about to put his thumbs away until we returned the gesture. With a resolute nod of his head he strolled gaily away, still smiling, as we lowered our digits. It was a humorous transaction.
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| They are even nice to their animals! |
The Taiwanese are wonderful, but there is one thing that can transform these sweet, passive people into dangerous, shadowed nightmares of their formal selfs: a motored vehicle. Like Jekyll and Hyde, when they get behind the wheel they metamorphosize into license-wielding, horn-blasting monsters. There is no end to their negligence and no where a walking pedestrian can feel safe. We witnessed many traffic violations that would have left any American law official shocked by its audacity. Not only are there literally no stop signs in Taiwan, the stop lights are viewed as guidelines rather than the law. Solid lines on the road are considered perfectly passable--especially around the curves--and the middle of the road is a fine place to park your vehicle if you want to run into the store or have a leisurely lunch in a restaurant. There were several occasions when we were stopped behind a vehicle, patiently waiting for them to make their move, only to find that the car was missing its driver. Despite some close-calls, we never witnessed a single accident. However, I did get clipped once by a side-view mirror while walking.
Off the road, Taiwan won me over with its beauty and mystique. Jungles, waterfalls, and mountains fill this small island to the brim with loveliness and it pours over onto its shorelines. The cities are clean, modern and successful. And the entire country is easily navigable--with ample trains and busses to get you anywhere you want to go. Much of our time was spent enjoying the culture and the food, hiking, and soaking in the hot springs. Devin, David, Ryan, and I took many trips to the coast to surf--which brought back fond memories for Dave, who lived in Taiwan for close to two years and spent much of that time in the water.
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| It's what you want! |
Twice we drove south from our lovely little home-base in Jiaoxi, to a beautiful beach where we camped, surfed, and ate bowls and bowls of noodles. This was the spot where Ryan, after surfing twice in his life, shocked us with his surprising skill on a board--more than a little infuriating for me to watch after struggling with the sport for some months. But! There's nothing like a little sibling jealously to motivate and drive. I had my own personal success while bobbing in Taiwan's waters--catching some nice waves that are still rolling out in my memory. I hope my muscles remember the motion and can recall it with ease the next time I surf--which may be a while.
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| Dave Tearing It Up |
The end of our time in Taiwan saddened everyone. We had to say goodbye to a beautiful place, which we were becoming well acquainted with, and farewell to new friends and siblings. I was especially gloomy. Our exit meant parting ways with Ryan who had to fly back to the States the night before our departure. All good things must come to an end... or just start again new somewhere else. Why not China? Thoughts of future adventures with my brother danced in my head while I headed straight into the present one.
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So how was our introduction to China? Was it polite or rude? I must say, the port town of Xiamen was a gracious host. Again, an unexpected but pleasant surprise. A major tourist destination for the Chinese, Xiamen welcomed us with its westernized properties; large parks, colonial-style buildings and, of course, McDonalds, the staple of every refined and non refined society. We were absorbed softly and slowly into a country we knew was masking something--we felt it intuitively, smelled it olfaction-ally. We knew it was there. And it didn't take us long to find it through the smog.
A couple of turns off one of the European-modeled streets, a short walk down a narrow, winding alley and we found ourselves in the heart of Asia. If you ever want to overload your senses, take a stroll down a market street in China. I have seen many memorable and shocking sites throughout my travels, but China takes the prize as the most jaw-dropping.
Dave and I have many inside jokes. One of them is, "that's ucky, China" A phrase we use to describe the Country's insatiable appetite for anything and everything that moves. It goes something like this: "Ew, shark fin soup? That's ucky, China!" or "Put that puppy down! You can't eat that, that's ucky, China!" And so on. Silly, I know. But as we strolled down the narrow street of our first Chinese food market I was definitely thinking "that's ucky, China!"
Blood speckled our shoes as we walked through puddles of gore. Headless chickens, with dying nervous systems still jerking with the muscle memory of life, hung from their feet. The dim, glassy eyes of recently decapitated pig heads stared through us as we passed by their site-less gaze. And fish! Every kind of fish I recognized, and every specie I didn't, I'm sure, were present and piled high in that place. The sheer amount of seafood in that one little market, in that small district, of that single city in China, made my skin crawl. In the past I have heard people talk exuberantly about the depletion of our Oceans and the subject has always made me scoff. 'Our impact is insignificant' I would say. 'Mother Nature can take care of herself. She will always bounce back'. After walking down that narrow street, I'm not so sure.
What else was on the menu in that Chinese market? I don't have the lungs to tell you. But I will try to paint a small picture with the color of my words.
Truck loads of crustaceans and shellfish of every kind--clams, muscles, starfish, crabs, lobsters as long as my arm, sea snails, and urchins etc, etc--all waiting to be consumed. Some in buckets of water, some left out to dry on matts and tarps--flexing their shells and squirming from the discomfort of an oxygen-rich environment.
We walked past tubs containing turtles, eels, sea snakes, squid, octopus and frogs. Fish, fish, fish of all types and sizes lined the street. From shark and tuna to the smallest mino and ferry shrimp. Some alive, but most already dead.
A short distance further revealed the insect and bug section--grasshoppers, scorpions, millipedes, worms and grubs. Some piled high in buckets while others were impaled on skewers being fried or grilled--ready to eat. Oh boy!
Just past the creepy crawlies was the pet store section. At least I thought it was a pet store. I was horrified to find even the furry and feathered critters weren't exempt from being considered palatable. I can't imagine a little song bird has much meat on its delicate little bones. That's shameful, China!
Of course the typical edible farm animals, as well as the untypical (horse meat), were displayed. I now understand the overwhelming desire Americans have to detach themselves from their food. Not many people, in North America, enjoy staring into half-closed, lifeless eyes on their plate. The Chinese, however, won't hesitate to eat those eyes--believing that they will attain better vision through their consumption.
Here is a small taste of what we saw. I am happy to report that the food we've had in China has been delicious. However, our experience in that market has put me on my guard and I am very careful not to ask for any song birds when ordering.
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| This is the last cat in China... which will be eaten on Tuesday. |
We have since left Xiamen behind and are making our way town by town through our three week tour of China. One of the incredible aspects of traveling through China is that you'll look at a map and find the name of a place printed so small, you need a magnifying glass to see it, and you think, 'this must be a quaint, quiet place' only to find upon arriving that it has a population of over a million people. Madness! Getting use to the throngs of people has been difficult for this recluse from Montana. Crowds flow like massive rivers, unfamiliar and unnavigable--I fear I might drown. Tall, ugly buildings line the sky boxing me in. I am a trapped animal in these cities.
Not only are we often choked by numbers, but we are anomalies. From the moment we arrived, we have been met with confusion, awe, fear, and excitement. Mouths unhinge and are left ajar where ever we go. Cameras and iPhones come out and we are suddenly celebrities--very unglamorous ones, if you ask me. Stars travel in town cars and limos, not the local bus and on foot.
Nearby a few girls giggle and hold up peace-signing fingers while posing with Matt. Standing next to me, Dave is approached by a smiling, eager little man."You take picture with girlfriend?" he asks, pointing to his smiling, eager little woman. Meanwhile I'm being prompted to hold a stranger's baby while she targets me in her camera's sites. The child screams with fear while the white-devil holds her--I shift its weight uncomfortably in my arms and give a wincing, awkward little smile. You get the picture. Where ever we go we are greeted with clicks and bright flashes.
At first all the attention was amusing. At first. But it has long since worn off--like my fake smile. The unabashed, unyielding stares I find to be the worst form of attention. The other day I asked Dave how to say in Mandarin, "why don't you take a picture? It last longer." Then I realized, they probably already have.
Needless to say the Chinese are an excitable (and easily amused) group of people. They, however, can also be very sweet and generous--which allows me to forgive them time and time again for their camera-yielding transgressions. David, Matt and I have a plethora of stories depicting individual's generosity.
There was Tina who we met in Tian Luo Keng. The region of Tian Luo Keng was our first destination outside of Xiamen and one of the locations of the infamous roundhouse--large traditional homes that can house entire villages. Some are so massive that they were at one time mistaken by the CIA as missile silos. After using her native tongue to help us procure a room in one of the roundhouses, Tina took us out to a big elaborate, multi-course lunch and insisted on paying the bill.
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| Roundhouse |
Then there was Wu. We met her at the train station. She bought us armfuls of packaged chicken feet to snack on during our long train ride (it's the thought that counts). And as if that wasn't enough, she raided her purse and handed out gum, toilet paper (a valuable commodity to have with you in China), fruit, and instant coffee. She even tried to give us money!
The list of generosities goes on and on, growing larger each day. These friendly ambassadors all smile, take pictures, call us their good friends, and say, "welcome to my country."
When ever I travel in a new place I am continuously reminded of the similarities and differences between that country and my homeland. Whether it be cultural, societal, political, etc. I usually compare and analyze. I have been in China for close to two weeks now and I have found some contrasting points. The first noted observation being the lack of personal space. I suppose this is to be expected from a country with a population approaching two billion. It's not only the dense crowds, it's how the individuals within those crowds behave which makes life as a traveling American a frustrating affair at times.
In the US there are rules that are inherently followed and upheld. For example, when we stand in line to purchase something at a store, the person behind us waits patiently for their turn to make a transaction. Or when we enter a building, we hold the door or stand politely to the side and let others exit or enter before us. We rarely stare unabashedly, shout in public, or smoke outside of courteous boundaries. There are exceptions, of course. Not every American follows these unspoken rules. But those individuals are the anomalies. Structure, order, and unspoken politeness is the norm in our country.
In China, rules don't exist. As polite Americans we could wait in line forever and never move. That's because the Chinese consider line-cutting an art. We are learning fast how to hold our own against these sneaky, impatient people. It's a difficult process to embrace. Our parents would be disappointed to witness years of hard work being shed like a warm coat. Their little gentleman or lady--products of their meticulous behavioral training--reduced to pushing old people and children out of the way to get a seat on a bus. Monsters, we have become. But there are never any hard feelings. It's the Chinese way. Push and be pushed.
Another differentiating factor we've been exposed to is the constant noise. Life in China is a loud business. There is no off button for the ambient clashing of sound--unless you retreat deep into the country side and avoid all people. The Chinese, as a whole, are boisterously loud. Whether they are angry or having a polite conversation, everyone yells. Especially the old. This can be extremely confusing when you don't speak the language fluently. Is she angry with me or asking a general question? I don't know!
We have had mostly positive experiences in China. Mostly. Another rule in the backpackers trusty handbook is to always try and find the good in the bad. It's one way, and sometimes the only way, to maintain your sanity on a long, challenging journey. The three of us travel by this rule--making jokes and finding the positive angles even if we have to pull them out of thin air. However, two days ago we found ourselves in a situation where our eyes were beginning to twitch and we had nothing to hold on to.
We had booked a thirteen hour over-night train to Chengdu from Fengshou. We tried to purchase the hard sleeper option--which would have procured beds and a descent night sleep--but those tickets were sold out leaving only seats. We took them. This won't be too bad, we said. It's only thirteen hours. We spoke assurances to each other as we made our way to the station. Our positivity faltered the moment we stepped onto the train.
I have never witnessed so many people stuffed into one place. We fought hard for every inch gained towards our assigned seats--pushing hard and stepping on bodies as we slowly made our way through the aisle. Of course people had claimed our seats. We held our tickets high and spoke forcefully in our basic, faltering Mandarin. We eventually dethroned our adversaries and went to work looking for somewhere to store our bulky back packs. After more arduous pushing and stumbling we managed to procure a spot and went to work stuffing our bags between other pieces of luggage. Sweating from the exertion and lack of ventilation, we reached our seats and again had to cast out the occupants.
Settling into our tightly crammed seats, we tried to relax and breath. Breath! Not long after we sat down, and the train began to lurch forward, did we realize that something was terribly wrong with the air quality. Craning my neck to investigate, it didn't take me long to find the source of our new problem. Only a few seats down an old man was chain-smoking. A bummer, especially since nonsmoking signs were hanging throughout the entire train. I'll just push and shove my way down the cattle-car and politely ask him to smoke elsewhere. Problem solved. I stood up with the goal of snuffing out the source of our trepidation, but as I took my first step, over the inert body of a sleeping women, I stopped short. A new wave of horror rushed over me as I perceived the gravity of our situation. My target, the old man, wasn't smoking alone. A large majority of our car had pulled out their packs and lighters to join him. I turned towards the door, our only hope, and saw a blockade of men, butts in hand, in the adjoining car. We were surrounded. There was nothing left to do but resign ourselves to our fate. We covered our faces with our shirts and wet wipes and settled down attempting to breath the acrid air. The look on our faces translated to each other that the positivity that we had once embraced was long gone.
We bore those thirteen hours as best we could--trying not to stare at our watches as the seconds dripped slowly into minutes and flowed thick as molasses into deep, heavy hours. None of us slept. Dave and Matt were continuously being crowded and leaned heavily on by people in the aisle. I luckily had a middle seat and wasn't subjected to that level of torment. The train was so crowded that we literally had to step on people to get to the bathroom. Everyone was sweating profusely because there was no ventilation. It had to be at least eighty degrees in that train car.
With quiet relief we finally exited that train. And as we breathed deeply we found our positivity once again--and a little skepticism. I am no longer convinced that the heavy clouded air that hangs like a shroud over the cities of China is actually smog. I think it's Marlboro smoke.
We are finding that transportation can be difficult in China, and not only because of the previously mentioned obstacles. What often appears to be a relatively easy distance turns into a headache of connecting trains to busses, busses to trains. We spent two full days, and nights, on both before we reached the beautiful town and region of Yangshuo. We have found that the rewards of the journey are well worth the effort. They have to be. The karst landscape of the Yangshuo valley was unlike anything I have seen before. Huge limestone pillars draped with vegetation speckle the region and are a dramatic sight to behold. The mental pictures I carry with me from our time in Yangshuo look like they have been torn out of the pages of a fairy tale. Once upon a time in China...
We have just arrived in Sichuan--a region bordering Tibet. We've been told it shares many similarities with its infamous western neighbor. We plan on hiking and camping for a few days--shadowed by the Four Sisters Mountains--before moving north to visit the Terracotta Warriors. From Xi'an, it's onward to Beijing and the Great Wall, where we hope to hike and camp along those grand archaic stretches of stone. It's a relatively short yet eventful journey through China. I've always found that when borders are crossed, cultural diversity emerges, eyes are opened and memories are made. And those memories run deep and take a lifetime to forget.
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| The Rooftop Of The World, The Himalayas |
Thanks for sticking it through to the end. More to come in the following weeks.
Much love from China.
