Downsizing, Chinese Style

April 28, 2011

We’ve gone from Beijing with 13 million to Xi’an with 7 million and we’re now in Lanzhou with 3 million people. Our overnight train ride was, as forewarned, not as nice as our first one. The compartment was the same. The distance between the two lower beds is the width of my two hands with fingers extended and with the four of us jostling backpacks it’s quite crowded. Luckily, we’re with Lise and Saci who are easy to deal with. Others might be more problematic, but with Saci making every little inconvenience something to laugh about, it defuses any tension which might develop. Since we left at 10:30 p.m. we were all ready for bed and conversation ended quickly. The train lurched its way during our eight hour ride and we all had a night we got through rather than slept through.

After strolling the streets of Xi’an for the last three days and being so impressed with the cosmopolitan atmosphere of it, we were brought back to reality at the train station. Xi’an’s main shopping area where we were ensconced was very upscale, but at the train station it was the real China. Just as in Beijing there were thousands of people waiting to go somewhere. The loudspeaker blared some kind of garbled message which seemed totally incomprehensible, even if it had been in English. Gone were the fancy dresses and spike heels. Gone were the businessmen in expensive clothes. Here were the kind of people who make up the bulk of the 1.3 billion inhabitants of this huge country. Fancy suitcases were replaced by plastic feed bag type containers which carried the traveling goods of the people. The “People” travel by train, the Prada types travel in their own cars, avoiding the crush of the masses. At the train station they can’t honk their horns demanding that people get out of their way. They can’t go to upscale restaurants where there is no waiting and no crowded tables jammed in together where some groups of people shout at each other while they smoke through the meals. Traveling by train brings the real China into play.

We were lucky to get into our hotel rooms here in Lanzhou early. After breakfast we came to the JJ Sun Hotel which is the nicest we’ve stayed  in so far. They’ve all been fine, this is just a step up. Although the beds are so-called twins, they seem double in size. Western-style mattresses replace the Chinese-style and will make for a good night’s sleep. In fact, Carol already had a nap since we were given the morning to get cleaned up following the train trip. On the last train ride, Saci stood outside our compartment and as members of the group came by, he asked : “how did you sleep? I’m taking a poll.” It was pretty evenly matched between good and bad, but he didn’t bother to ask this morning. Everybody seemed to have that: “Don’t ask, don’t tell” look on their face. I saw him in the hallway outside of the hotel rooms and he said Lise was napping just as Carol was. In addition to the great beds, I have dsl in the room so I can write and check hockey scores, and weather and whatever I want just from the desk. I’m such a geek. Lise can only access wi-fi so I told her she  could borrow my computer. She’s as bad as I am. The shower head is about 7 feet high and I can just stand below it and have the water cascade down on my tired body.Thor is even taller than I am, and he said he luxuriated in it.  Life is good, but we only have one night here. We’d all like another night here in this hotel. With another train ride tomorrow night, it will make three straight nights of moving. Has to be done, China is huge as we all know, but still not a happy thought.

Lanzhou is one of the most polluted cities in China, and from our room on the 15^th floor, it’s obvious. Saci wanted to know why he wasn’t on the 23^rd , or top floor, since, as he always says: “I paid for it.” But thankfully we’re not because, if we were, we probably couldn’t see through the gunk. We look down from our 15^th floor at some smoke stacks right below us. Not the best view. Petrochemical industries and coal burning factories have turned the city into a real pollution mess. They tell us they’ve cleaned up their act, but it’s not obvious. 

The people have changed ethnically. Gone are the more rounded facial structures of the east. The people here have a more angular face, and the complexion has taken on a darker-ruddier look.  The wind blown steppes with the sun bearing down in the summer and the bitterly cold winters give the faces a weathered, almost leathery texture. It’s obviously an area where people are closer to the land as opposed to spending their day in the comfort of offices. The stereotypical Asian features have moderated over the centuries and we’re definitely approaching Central Asia. The differences are more nuances, and because the government has encouraged the Han majority to move into the area with incentives, it is not a homogeneous look, but a varied one and you see a wide variety of looks. But the eyes – oh, how they shine and twinkle when they smile. It gives the face an entirely different look. The smile seems to cover their entire face and the eyes brighten with a warmth and acceptance that I believe is so typical of Central Asia. Our time in Mongolia showed us that.

The city is a long ribbon of buildings with mountains running along both sides of the valley carved out over the millennia  by the Yellow River which at over 3000 miles long is China’s second longest. Where they can’t build out, they build up. High-rise buildings in excess of 30 stories dot the landscape with many more going up. The Chinese build high. We saw the same thing in Xi’an even where they could build out. The city has such a different feel to it. Giorgio has definitely left town and taken the rest of his lot with him because Prada this is not. It’s a multi-cultural city where minarets dot the skyline between the skyscrapers. Calls to prayer are offset by the ringing of Buddhist bells at their temples. Muslim girls wear their colorful headscarves and the men wear the white cap on the top of their head,  while the Han majority students walk down the street in their school uniforms. There are many ethnic minorities in the city as well, and we really feel as if we’ve left the touristy stuff behind and we’re on the road.

We walk down the street and people look at us as if they’ve never seen Caucasians before. Some just stare, but we are greeted by a look that invites a greeting on our part, and it is always returned with a smile and a “Knee-how” from them. Kids come up on the street and want to know where we’re from, and while Carol and I were at a park this morning, a man held up his camera as a way of asking if he could take a photo. We said yes, and that picture was followed by some of his group deciding they wanted to be in the photo, which was followed by others wanting in the picture as well. Then he wanted a photo with him in it, so he gave his camera to someone and then others decided they wanted in it as well and the process started all over again. It was like family photo day at the park and everybody took part. When it was all over, they huddled in a large group and looked at the digital pics complete with oohs and ahs.

We got into an elevator at the hotel and there was a knot of people already there. A woman of about 20 or so smiled and I greeted her. She got the biggest smile on her face. Another person made extra room for us and I said “Shay-shay” or thank you and they again got the biggest kick out of it. I explained that was it. That was all I knew along with a “You’re welcome.”  Again, she wanted to know where we were from and all this in the course of the elevator going from the 15^th floor to the 4^th where they got off. As she left the elevator she began to giggle and literally bunny-hopped her way out of the elevator in pure delight.

Of course, all this is equalized by the toddler who was walking with his father and looked up at me, got a horrified look on his face and burst out in a frightened bawling all the time pulling on his dad’s arm to get him outta there. He was scared stiff. And there was the school girl who I inadvertently bumped into and she recoiled as if I had leprosy. We’ve had two meals here and haven’t seen another westerner. We know it’s going to get even more remote and isolated from the tourist trade as we head further west tomorrow. But we’ve left all the tourist traps behind. No more people yelling “Special price” at us as we walk down the streets. No more tee shirt shops with Mao in the requisite green jacket he always wore and the hat with the red star on it, nor the shirts right beside them which are exactly the same with the exception that it’s Obama’s face on it. I hope the Donald Trumps and Sara Palins and  the rest of the right wing don’t see that one. They’ll alter their birth certificate diatribes to the conspiratorial theory that he’s really a Communist Chinese spy about to sell out the country. 

We went for a walk in the afternoon and decided to check out an area we could see from our perch on the 15^th floor. There were lots of white hats bobbing and weaving below us and we were curious. It looked like a large group of Muslims and close to the hotel. When we got to the cross street, we discovered it was roped off from traffic entering and the street was filled with tour buses of every size and comfort level. Walking along the side streets were also filled. People had put carpets down on the pavement like so many teenie rock fans staking out their spot before a big concert. Thousands upon thousands of people milled around, walked up and down counting their prayer beads, sat on the street and watched the whole scene, which included the group of four westerners who starkly stood out in the crowd. Vendors roasted corn on the cob, shish kabobs sizzled on hot charcoals, and the air was filled with pungent herbs and spices. We were keenly watched by all - never with any hostility, and usually with simple curiosity. However many of those faces still shone with a hint of positive feedback and when we smiled and said hello, they burst into smiles which would warm even the coldest of hearts. It turns out that a famous Imam is buried here and this is an annual pilgrimage which takes place as people for all over come in a sort of mini hadj.

The food is changing as well and that’s a good thing. The meals have been good and filling (too filling) and have been traditional dishes. We usually have 6-7 different plates since we eat family style, sometimes at two tables of 7 each, sometimes at a large table with all of us together, when the number of dishes is increased accordingly. Since we’ve left the main Han area and entered Muslim territory, the meals reflect that.  However, Peter, the photographer, was the first to bail and had a steak in his room from room service. We gave him the benefit of the doubt and said that he wanted a break from the food rather than a break from us.

The air is staggeringly filthy this morning. Can’t see ¼ of a mile from our room. Time to get out of Dodge.