Travelling Around Britain and the World

Thursday, 19 September 2013

Pingyao, Preserved Ming City: Beijing, and Shanxi Part 4

"London Bruins UCLA that and"
slogan seen on a tee-shirt, Pingyao

Pingyao: The Chinese Mid-Autumn Holiday and Annual Photography Festival

Wednesday 18-Sept-2013

People's Republic of China

By Train from Datong to Pingyao

Our train for Pingyao left early so we checked out of our Datong hotel at 4.30 blearily clutching our hotel packed breakfasts and regretting that we could not have another go at the haggis.

Again we were in a four-berth soft sleeping compartment for a day-time journey, but boarded so early that we inevitably woke our sleeping room-mates. The two girls gathered their wits and belongings and quickly tidied the compartment so we could store our cases.

The train rattled south through Shanxi Province, eventually swapping the industry of Datong for agricultural countryside, mostly given over to maize.

Shanxi Province, Datong to Pingyao is just under 400km

The girls disembarked. We spread ourselves out and bought lunch on trays from a passing attendant: rice, onions, bacon, mushroom and green beans – cheap and simple but well-cooked as we have always found Chinese railway meals to be.

Introduction to Pingyao and the Tianyuankui Guesthouse

We were met at Pingyao by a young man who said his name was Jonathan, a moniker thrust upon him in a childhood English class.

His driver negotiated the traffic of modern Pingyao until we passed under a Ming gate; beyond, everything was different. Modern Pingyao, like most Chinese cities, consists of identikit high-rises lining wide streets; old Pingyao has characterful single storey buildings and narrow alleys. It has been restored, repaired and artfully pickled, but at heart, unlike Datong with its freshly rebuilt city wall and brand new 'Ming' gatehouses, it is real. Much of the old centre is, inevitably, pedestrianised and we finished the journey on foot.

The main Ming/Qing Street, Pingyao

We checked into the Tianyuankui Guesthouse on the main street. Reception doubled as a rustic looking bar and restaurant while behind a maze of alleys led to the guestrooms. A padlock secured our room while from inside it was closed by the sort of a metal hook you would find on a garden gate. We had a long thin room with dark wood panelling and a raised area at one end serving as a huge bed, a modern version of a traditional Chinese kang. Traditional as the room was, a flat screen television sat almost unobtrusively on a chest and a door led through to a modern bathroom.

Kang, Tianyuankui Guesthouse, Pingyao

Our arrival, we discovered, clashed with the mid-Autumn holiday when the whole of China has a few days away, and a walk in the street suggested that half the population had come to Pingyao. It was also time for the annual photography festival so the streets were not only packed with Chinese tourists but also with people from all over the world staggering around under the weight of enormous cameras - or at least enormous lenses.

The streets of Pingyao full of autumn holidaymakers and photographers

We walked up and down the main street to the walls at either end. The streets were packed with gift shops and restaurants. Pingyao is proud of its cuisine which features a number of local specialties and there seemed to be a standard style of menu board, though the dishes varied as did the English translations*. I am not sure I fancied a 'bald wet bowl' but it sounded better than 'mobil oil aubergine' - presumably with a WD40 dipping sauce. For connoisseurs of Chinglish this was a good place to be.

Menu board, Pingyao

It was a warm afternoon so we stopped for a beer, a rather unchinese thing to do. Restaurants serve food and drink at any time of day but just dropping in for a drink is deemed a little eccentric. There were, though, few people eating at five o'clock and they seemed glad of our custom.

We had not been seated long when music - a self-parody of Disney-style Chinese music - announced the arrival of a troop of a dozen or more teenage girls dressed in pyjamas, carrying fans and walking with the half shuffle, half mince that I assume would have been the gait of women with bound feet. They were, perhaps, the emperor's concubines out for an evening constitutional.

Here come the girls, Pingyao

We had almost finished our beer when another tune heralded the arrival of their male counterparts, armed with fake swords and walking with a martial swagger, they formed the guard party for a couple of important mandarins. As we were to learn, this goes on all day, the city authorities’ contribution to the holiday feel.

There go the boys, Pingyao

We usually avoid having dinner in our hotel, but this seemed a place to break that rule. The restaurant was open to the street and packed with Chinese holiday makers and there was one free table. We grabbed it - it could be the only free table in town.

The English translation on the menu did not make choices easy, but we ended up with our standby of chicken, chillies and peanuts and a local specialty of vegetables in a hot and sour sauce.

Returning to our room, Tianyuankui Guesthouse, Pingyao

Thursday 19/09/2013

We slept well on the giant kang. Arriving for breakfast next morning we were immediately issued knives and forks and offered slices of sweet flaccid bread, indeterminate jam, a scrape of something yellow and industrial, and a glass of black, unsweetened Nescafé. As so often in the past we politely requested it be taken away. Our request was greeted with the usual surprise bordering on amazement but they soon produced some noodles, boiled egg, tofu, soya beans and a 'special pancake' consisting of jam layered between circles of pastry - a local variation on the traditional Autumn moon cake.

Pingyao Walking Tour

Another Ming Gatehouse, Pingyao

The City Walls and the Opening of the Photography Festival

Jonathan arrived and we started our tour by walking to the gatehouse and climbing onto the town wall. At the risk of sounding blasé, when you have seen one Ming gatehouse you have seen them all. A crowd had gathered outside for the opening of the photography festival. A man in cowboy boots and Stetson occupied the stage, a guitar slung round his neck. He had his back to us but spoke English with an American accent and sang so off-key even the inmates of a Vietnamese karaoke bar might have winced.

Regrettable Country and Western singer opening the Pingyao Photography Festival

We walked along the wall and Lynne posed with the night-watchmen who once kept the streets of Pingyao safe at night.

The Night-watchmen, Pingyao city walls

Hearing a cheer from outside we looked down into the morning mist (or smog!) to see the country and western singer had been replaced by a small Chinese man. Yan Weiwen is, Jonathan informed us, especially popular here being from nearby Taiyuan, but is well known throughout China. Unlike his American predecessor, Yan could sing; he had a huge voice for a small man and a rich operatic tone. We paused to listen – he is on You Tube, too, but he was better live.

Yan Weiwen, Pingyao Photography Festival

Further along we met the city's governor.

The city governor gets down to work, Pingyao

Over the wall, in an area where houses had been demolished, people were fossicking among the debris. Newly conscious of the gem for which they are responsible, the authorities have decided to give their old town some breathing space. I tentatively approve though I am concerned that the Chinese authorities do not always give proper consideration to the people they displace. Pingyao is a World Heritage Site so UNESCO oversight should avoid the overzealous reconstruction we saw at Datong, and I would like to think it also safeguards those outside the walls whose homes and businesses have been demolished.

Cleared area outside the city walls, Pingyao

Looking the other way we saw the roofs of the old town, the wide eaves designed to keep dripping rain from wooden walls.

Looking over old Pingyao

The Confucian Temple

We descended to the Confucian temple. The contribution of Confucius to Chinese society was philosophical rather than religious so encountering such temples always feels slightly odd. Most, like Hanoi’s Temple of Literature, have a secular purpose with a religious overlay but Pingyao’s is a standard Chinese temple. 'The Han Chinese' a Muslim Uigher once told us, 'don't have religion, they only have superstition.' That might be harsh, but looking at this temple you could see his point.There was advice concerning the throwing of coins as offerings….

Instructions for being lucky, Confucian Temple, Pingyao

…. and petitions for luck written on red or gold paper padlocked to the railings and incense burners.

Petitions for good luck, Confucian Temple, Pingyao

One courtyard was doubling as a gallery for the photography festival. Mainly landscapes, there was an impressive series on the Yellow River, some pictures of the Mongolian grasslands and even some Indian temples.

Photo gallery, Pingyao Confucian Temple

These seemed more in tune with Confucian ideas, as did the old school house, though Lynne claims to have used such desks in the 1950s.

The Old Schoolroom, Confucian Temple, Pingyao

Taoist Temple of the City God

Across the road is the Taoist Temple of the City God. Religious Taoism, which is only distantly related to Philosophical Taoism, is largely an updating of Chinese traditional religions and fortune telling. Offerings to ensure luck are entirely at home here.

They do a fine line in incense burners, both of the usual design....

Traditional style incense burner, Temple of the City God, Pingyao

And some which might be unique.

More unusual incense burner, Temple of the City God, Pingyao

In one hall a group of actors were making a petition to the gods. 'In times of drought,' Jonathan said, 'the priests must plead for rain.' He ushered us forward into the small crowd, 'Stand on the left,' he added 'to get the best view.'

We took his advice, though how this gave us the ‘best view’ was unclear. When a large youth stood in front of us to take photographs - it was once true that the Chinese were short of stature, but this particular big lump was hardly unique - we moved to the right. The actors finished, bowed to the crowd and, as they made their way off stage, their pleading took effect and hidden sprinklers suddenly dropped a medium sized rain shower on the spectators. Hilarity ensued. Had we been standing where Jonathan had suggested we would have stayed dry, but we had moved.

'Priests' petition the gods for rain. Temple of the City God, Pingyao

Money was and remains the true 'City God' and our next stop should have been at China's first bank, but there was a queue and Jonathan suggested we change the order.

The Tongxinggong Escort Agency

The museum of the Tongxinggong Escort Agency was a short walk along the pedestrianised streets. Bollards exclude cars, but not bicycles and motorbikes and several were making their way through the crowd - though not always with the passengers facing the right way.

Not all passengers face the right way, Pingyao

Pingyao was once the banking capital of China. Banking involves moving money, which in nineteenth century China meant shifting pillow shaped ingots of precious metal across the country.

Money, or replicas of it, Tongxinggong Escort Agency, Pingyao

Clearly transporting bullion opens up possibilities for banditry and in response martial arts expert Wang Zhengqing set up the Tongxinggong Escort Agency in 1849. The escorts, an elite quasi-religious community, survived until Pingyao ceased to be a banking centre in 1913. Their old headquarters has exhibits of money (or at least replicas), their weapons....

Fearsome weapons. Tonxinggong Escort Agency, Pingyao

....and the distinctive one-wheeled carts they used to move the treasure.

One-wheeled cart for carrying money, Tongxinggong Escort Agency, Pingyao

Lunch in Pingyao

By the time we left Tongxinggong it was lunchtime. We visited a restaurant that, according to Jonathan, was famous for its dumplings, and indeed dumpling production was in full swing. We were, as so often happens, parked in the window of the old wooden building. There were many tourists but few westerners, and if you have captured a couple you want to show them off.

Dumpling production line, Pingyao

We were treated to the local specialties, Pingyao beef, kaolao noodles and dumplings. The region prides itself on its unique dishes, but although all were pleasant, we found none of them particularly exciting. Pingyao beef, served with fried bread, is remarkably similar to corned beef. Kaolao are wide-bore 2cm tall buckwheat noodles stuck together to resemble some blanched internal organ and flooded with vegetable broth – minestrone in all but name. The dumplings - stuffed with sweet corn and pork - were good, but they were only dumplings.

Lunch in Pingyao

The Rishengchang Bank

After lunch we got into the Rishengchang without queuing. The bank was the first in China and led the way so successfully that during the Qing dynasty over 400 finance houses opened in Pingyao.

Front office, Rishengchang, Pingyao

After the anti-foreigner Boxer Uprising of 1898/1900 the Empress Cixi was required to pay a substantial indemnity to the 'Eight Allied Forces' (the European powers plus the USA and Japan). She raised the money in Pingyao but the royal court first defaulted on the loan and then, in 1912, the Emperor abdicated. There was no way back for Pingyao and banking in China fell into the hands of foreigners and became concentrated in Shanghai and Hong Kong, where it remains to this day.

Meeting room, Rishengchang, Pingyao

The Rishengchang gives an account of nineteenth century Chinese banking, the front office, the meeting rooms for the more well-to-do and the dwellings of the bankers, who 'lived over the shop'.

Courtyard, Rishengchang, Pingyao

That finished our tour of the old town. The driver was not booked for an hour or so, giving us the opportunity to shop for traditional Autumn Holiday moon cakes ....

Moon Cakes, Pingyao

Shuanglin Si

....and take a short but welcome break before driving the five kilometres to Shuanglin Si. Like the Yungang Grottoes, the Buddhist monastery was founded, during the northern Wei dynasty (sixth century), but most of current buildings are Ming or later. It looks like a fortress from the outside with high walls and a forbidding gate.

Forbidding gate, Shuanglin Si

Inside is the usual arrangement of incense burners and halls. The architecture here is considered less interesting than the statues, but I like these solid old wooden buildings.

Old wooden hall, Shuanglin Si

Some of the 1600 statues are terracotta others wooden. There are gods….

Many armed god, Shuanglin Si

…and muscular guardians, many of them behind bars, presumably for their protection…..

Muscular guardians, Shuanglin Si

…but they were fierce enough for us to wonder.

Scary 'protector' Shaunglin Si

Students from the local art school were busy on their own statues. Lynne was particularly taken by the tableaux of the sufferings to be endured in Hell. It was a tit for tat arrangement, if you had stabbed somebody in life you would be stabbed repeatedly in the afterlife, if you had strangled somebody then you would be strangled and so on.

Dinner in Pingyao

Typical Pingyao restaurant

In the evening we would considered eating at our hotel again, but the restaurant was full so we had to take to the streets. Pingyao was heaving, but we eventually found a vacant table in a long thin restaurant, rather like eating in an alleyway. It was basic but the food was good. We had black fungus with tofu and chilli, morning glory and kaolao with lamb, which was better than the lunchtime version. The woman in charge kept coming over to stare at us and when we left she gave us a big smile and complimented us on our chopstick technique. We sat beneath one of the local menu boards and again enjoyed the creative translations*. ‘Woodles’, we understood, but even with the benefit of a picture we have no idea what 'Date and seabnekth orm soup with yam' was about.

Your guess is as good as mine

Well fed at a very reasonable price we wandered up and down the streets, still packed with shoppers and bought some presents to take home.

* I am aware that the people responsible for these translations have better English than I have Chinese. I am, therefore, not mocking them but sympathising with the problems of explaining particularly local dishes in a language not designed for that explanation.


Beijing, North Korea and Shanxi

Posted by at No comments:
Labels: ,
Location: Pingyao, Jinzhong, Shanxi, China

Tuesday, 17 September 2013

Datong, the Yungang Grottoes and the Hanging Temple. Beijing and Shanxi Part 3

"Nothing but Delight that over there"
slogan seen on a tee-shirt, Beijing

Coal Fired Power Stations, 1,500-year-old Buddha Statues and a Remarkable Temple

15-Sept-2013

A Day of Rest in Beijing

China

After getting off the train from Pyongyang, Sunday was a day of leisure in Beijing; there was nothing we had to see and nobody to organise it. Lunch in Mr Lee’s Noodle Shop may not have been haute cuisine, but I enjoyed it.


Lunch in Mr Lee's Noodle Shop

16-Sept-2013

By Train to Shanxi

We were heading south west to Shanxi Province

After a leisurely breakfast we made the short walk to the station to fight with the crowds and the sometimes baffling Chinese rail system. It was a pleasant change to be reliant on ourselves rather than have a guide doing everything for us.

From Beijing to Datong

Our train to Datong left on time and, after seven hours of gently rambling through the countryside at an average speed of some 60 kph, it arrived on time.

Eating one of Alex's flapjacks on the train to Datong

Introduction to Datong

We were met by Maggi, our guide for the next two days, and were driven past the walled ‘Old City’ (of which more later) to our hotel in the new centre, a not particularly interesting street of large hotels and even larger banks.

Shanxi Province - wind farms as well as coal mines

Before leaving, Maggi gave us directions to an area where life was on a more human scale. Walking there in the evening we found a small restaurant that provided us with rice, chicken with chillies and Sichuan pepper and a dish of gently spiced spinach with garlic and nuts.

17-Sept-2013

Haggis

Breakfast at the Datong Hotel was a large Chinese buffet. In one section bowls were being ladled out from a vat labelled ‘haggis’. It looked like noodle soup but, intrigued, we took a bowl each. There were the usual Chinese condiments, coriander, chopped shallots and chilli sauce, which we would not normally associate with haggis. I took some chilli sauce - I like a slug of chilli in the morning.

Shanxi Province

On closer inspection pieces of tripe and kidney were swimming among the noodles. Oats are grown locally and although I cannot be absolutely sure the bowl contained any, there was a definite haggis-y flavour that went beyond the offal. It was excellent, my compliments to the clan McWei.

Datong's newly rebuilt city wall (with the new town in the background)

Datong's Problem

Despite having two entries in the Rough Guide’s 'top 35 things to see in China', Datong does not see hordes of foreign tourists. We had spotted the city’s downside as we arrived and encountered it again as soon as we stepped outside the hotel in the morning. Northern Shanxi produces two thirds of China's coal; Datong has several pits and two huge coal-fired power stations, one supplying the electricity for Beijing, the other serving Shanxi province's 36 million inhabitants. Black dust hangs in the air, which has a distinctive coaly smell. An atmosphere that should be sliced rather than breathed is a powerful deterrent from spending long in Datong.

The Yungang Gottoes

Maggi arrived with her driver and we set off on the 16km journey to the Yungang Grottoes. We headed west, leaving the city of 1.7 million people, and travelling through reasonably pleasant greenish countryside, albeit with a sprinkling of coal mines.

At Yungang the authorities have built a long, elaborate walkway from the car park to the grottoes. Chatting with Maggi as we walked it became clear that her English was exceptionally good. Few Chinese guides have travelled outside China so have been unable to develop their listening skills, but Maggi had spent three years living in Bury in Greater Manchester which is, she informed me, Datong's twin town. I must admit I have never been to Bury, but I know that it is famous for its black pudding – which we particularly enjoy fried with slices of sweet apple as a light lunch. I asked her if she had encountered Bury black pudding. 'I tried it, ' she said, 'but it wasn't very nice, I wasn't sure if I should have cooked it or not.' 'It's fine either way, ' I told her. She looked unconvinced.

I discussing black pudding on the approach to the Yungang Grottoes

The Yungang Grottoes are a series of 252 caves containing over 51,000 Buddha statues. Once the caves stretched along 15km of hillside, today about 1km of it is open to visitors.

Lynne at the Yungang Grottoes

After the collapse of the Han dynasty in 220CE China fragmented into three (sometimes more) kingdoms before being reunited by the Sui dynasty in 589. The Three Kingdoms period was one of protracted and complicated warfare as Wei, Wu and Shu fought for supremacy. Datong became the capital of the Buddhist Northern Wei, who built the Yungang Grottoes in three separate bursts of activity between 453 and 525. We first encountered the Northern Wei in Jiayuguan, 1000km to the west, where we visited their tombs and experienced a total eclipse.

Yungang Grottoes

Yungang is the oldest and arguably the grandest of China's three major Buddhist grottoes. We saw the slightly younger Mogao Caves at Dunhuang in the Gobi desert in 2008, the Longmen Caves are a treat in store.

Yungang Grottoes

The statues vary in size from the colossal to the tiny, the largest being carved from the sandstone caves in which they sit.

Some small and some badly eroded Buddha statues, Yungang Grottoes

In some caves even the painting survives but in others the soft sandstone has suffered severe weathering. There have been several attempts to protect them including the 11th century construction of the ‘ten temples of Yungang’ shielding the main caves. They were destroyed by fire 50 years later and the only extant protective temple was built in 1621 in the early Qing Dynasty.

Some surviving painting, Yungang Grottoes

A programme of forestation is intended to lessen the effects of sandstorms, while there are currently major works in the central section. Worryingly, the Chinese generally, and the Datong authorities in particular, have a record of turning conservation and repair into restoration, rebuilding and even downright fakery. I ought to object to the Qing portico for the same reason, but it has been sanctified by age and that makes it is easier to forgive. I offer no rational justification for my inconsistency.

Early Qing additions, Yungang Grottoes

Many of the larger statues were once covered in plaster and painted. The small holes visible on many statues originally held pegs which supported the plaster, but being even softer than the sandstone it is long gone.

Buddha statue, Yungang Grottoes

As Yungang is more-or-less outdoors, photography is permitted, which it is not at Mogao. Yungang’s statues have suffered weather damage rather than the (sometimes well meaning) vandalism at Mogao, but I am not convinced they have the same air of mystery.

Lynne and a Buddha statue, Yungang Grottoes

The site is being developed for bigger and better tourism, with stalls and restaurants appearing in an adjoining area. When Chinese tourists arrive, they come by the busload and cultural sites can quickly become theme parks. I hope that won't happen here, but given the activity in the rest of Datong, I am not optimistic.

Making sweets - the theme park is all set to go, Yungang Grottoes, Datong

Yungang to Hunyuan

We left Yungang and set off for Hunyuan, some 75km south east of Datong. The drive was through truly dismal country, passing one of the power stations that freely distribute their atmospheric blessings over fields and houses. A stream of lorries flooded past carrying coal from the pits to the power station. The road was lined with grimy little workshops and the air was full of smog. I found it difficult to swallow and started to cough, as I would until some days after we had left Datong.

Setting off towards Hunyuan

Eventually we made it into open country. Scruffy pasture sat on top of soft rocks through which streams had cut surprisingly deep, narrow gorges. This relief was short lived as we soon arrived in the small town of Hunyuan. It is alleged that when Queen Victoria’s train passed through the Black Country, the blinds were drawn so she did not have to look on Tividale and Tipton. God knows what she would have made of Hunyuan.

Hunyuan

Lunch in Hunyuan

We lunched in a private room in the town’s one hotel. Maggi ordered and provided us with the same chicken dish as we had eaten the previous evening (though minus the Sichuan peppers) and some sliced pork nestling among big mushroomy sheets of black fungus. Our request for something ‘typically local’ produced two outsized jiaozis one of which Lynne is struggling to lift with her chopsticks in the photo. The thick oaty pastry enclosed a heap of shredded unseasoned potato. I can only assume it was Maggi's revenge for Bury Black Pudding.

Lynne with that jiaozi - Maggi's revenge for the black pudding?
Hunyuan

The Hanging Temple

The Hanging Temple, also called the Xuankong Temple, just outside Hunyuan, is Datong's other entry in the Rough Guide's top 35.

It was built over 1600 years ago singlehandedly by a monk called Liao Ran. You may believe that if you wish and there has certainly been a monastery here for over a thousand years, just not this monastery. Successive monasteries have been destroyed by flooding and it has been rebuilt higher and higher up the rock wall until it is now 75m above the valley floor.

The Hanging Temple, Hunyuan

A dam now protects the valley, so presumably it has reached its high water mark.

 
The dam, Hanging Temple, Hunyuan

The temple is often crowded but we seemed to hit it at a quiet moment and were able to look round unjostled and at our leisure.

The Hanging Temple, Hunyuan

It is an airy height, but the monastery is better anchored in the rock wall than it looks from below and sits on a substantial shelf. The long poles apparently supporting it are for show, some do not even reach the temple platform and you can lean over the rail and give them a good waggle.

Lynne enjoys the airy heights of the Hanging Temple, Hunyuan

Xuankong Temple is unusual in that serves three religions, or at least philosophies, Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism; a harmonious coming together which would provide a good lesson for some other religions - if they were the least bit interested in learning it.

Buddha is here, but so are Confucius and the Taoist gods

Back to Datong, Ancient Delights and Fakes

We returned to Datong on a road that, though busy, was more scenic than the road we had arrived on - not that that was difficult.

The 'Old' City Wall and a 'Ming' Gatehouse

We drove beside the 'old' city wall and entered through a gatehouse built to the traditional and ubiquitous Ming design, but erected very recently.

Newly built city gate, Datong

The (Genuine) Ming Nine Dragon Screen

We didn't travel far along the wide streets before turning into the car park for the Nine Dragon Screen. 45m long and 8 high it was built around 1400 to screen the palace of the thirteenth son of Zhu Yuanzhang, the first Ming emperor, demons and prying eyes.

The Nine Dragon Screen, Datong

I had been annoyed with myself for missing the Nine Dragon Screen in Beihai Park when we were in Beijing ten days ago, but Datong's screen is much older and three times bigger, so that made me feel better. For 500 years it has sat alone in a courtyard, after the palace it was built to screen was burnt down by rioters.

One of the dragons, Nine Dragon Screen, Datong

Observing that the dragons have four claws (because only the emperor’s dragons have five) should be all there is to say, but it is not. The current municipal authorities are desperate to make Datong a major tourist attraction, so they are busy rebuilding the original palace. My advice would be, do not build fakes, concentrate on the genuine old attractions you already have and clean up the air. Not that they have asked for my advice*.

Behind this fence a brand new 'Ming' palace is taking shape.

An Impromptu Calligraphy Lesson

Later, outside our hotel, we found an elderly man in the courtyard with two, metre long, mop-headed sticks, one in each hand, like outsized Chinese writing brushes. He was dipping them in the hotel's fountain and writing Chinese characters on the paving stones. We watched for a while and he smiled and handed me one of the brushes. I followed him carefully as he wrote the characters. His writing could be called ‘calligraphy’; mine would best be described as 'childish'. Some of the characters were so complex that I turned them into small pools of water, though my teacher had no such problem. I thanked him for the experience, but I was happy to watch my incompetence evaporate into the night air.

Outside the Datong Hotel, Datong, where my 'calligraphy' is evaporating

* Apparently I was not alone in this view. Writing in 2020 in China Newsweek and made available in English by Sixth Tone Su Jiede said "In March 2019, the Ministry of Housing and Urban-Rural Development and the National Cultural Heritage Administration published a criticism of […] Datong. […] 'Datong,' it said, 'had committed wide-scale demolition and construction in the old city ... and the demolition of old buildings which have been replaced by fake structures.'”
In 2020 the city was given three years to rectify the situation or risk losing its title as a National Historical and Cultural City. The loss would destroy its plan to build a tourism industry.

Beijing, North Korea and Shanxi
Posted by at No comments:
Labels: ,
Location: Datong, Shanxi, China

Saturday, 14 September 2013

By Train out of the DPRK: North Korea Part 9

From Pyongyang Back to Beijing and the Bright Lights of 'Freedom'

Leaving Pyongyang


North Korea
On the short ride to the railway station B made good on his promise to respond to the singing of our Korean hosts the previous evening.

In the 1960s the press would have described B as ‘flamboyant’, a word that falls sadly short as a description of his performance of 'Hey, Big Spender'. He attacked the song with a panache that Shirley Bassey would have admired, flirting outrageously with the young male Korean guides, who seemed uncertain how to react. The rest of us enjoyed it enormously and joined in where appropriate. North Korea is busy arming itself to resist a military attack that will never come, they have no defence against western decadence.

Station formalities were surprisingly minimal and we soon found ourselves on a wide and increasingly crowded platform.

Waiting to board the train, Pyongyang Railway Station

Once permitted to enter the train we settled into a four-berth sleeping compartment identical to the Chinese soft-sleepers we are well used to.

North to the Chinese Border

We rolled northwards at a leisurely pace, past fields of rice and maize, orchards and villages of traditional houses. We saw no towns before the border and few people, except once, where the whole village had turned out to plant rice. Distant glimpses of farmers driving ox carts suggested that animal power was still much in use.

Ox carts in rural North Korea

A North Korean Lunch

We were called to the dining car at 12.30 and as it was our last opportunity for a Korean lunch we took it. The meal consisted of five dishes, cucumber with chilli, potatoes and veg, pork with veg, squid and a dish of very recently defrosted spam. The veg, pork and squid were all served with the same sauce which was pleasant enough if rather repetitive. The squid tasted dodgy and seemed well past its sell-by date, so we left it.

Rural North Korea

The service was interesting. First beer bottles were put on the table, then half the food arrived. After a while glasses were produced followed by the rest of the food. It was a long and frustrating sit before anyone turned up with a bottle opener.

Rice fields, North Korea

A Swiss luncher across the aisle attempted to photograph his last North Korean meal. The lead waitress was very quick to come across and tell him very firmly that photography was forbidden. Of course it was, lunch is obviously a state secret.

Rural North Korea
Horse drawn carts in the stream and a traditional village beyond the fields

Crossing the Korean/Chinese Border

We reached the border town of Sinuiju in late afternoon. It looked run down, with crumbling tower blocks and rubble-strewn open spaces. The formalities took place beside a derelict platform on which a border guard station was being built. The only completed section was the giant rectangle which would later hold pictures of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il. Passports were checked and men – though not women – were run over with a hand held metal detector. The customs man asked us to open our hand luggage. He was very interested in Jw’s papers – the itinerary for our journey and several copies of the Pyongyang Times, (the DPRK’s English language paper) which he went through looking at the pictures. From my bag he pulled out my book of Killer Sudokus. He looked rather puzzled, then opened the book and started laughing. He checked one of my solutions, turned to another page, still laughing, and checked another. Satisfied that a) I can do Killer Sudokus and b) no Sudokist could be a subversive, he left us in peace without checking the last two bags.

We had heard stories of border guards examining cameras and demanding the elimination of pictures. That did not happen - it would have taken all day - but as it was we sat for a couple of hours before moving off. A few minutes later we were crossing the broad Yalu River and leaving the DPRK behind. The four in our compartment heaved a collective sigh of relief, which was, I believe, replicated in the other compartments. Across the water was the shining beacon of freedom that is China – visiting the DPRK can strangely alter your perceptions. I was glad I had been to North Korea, but I was also pleased to be out and to know that I never have to go there again - though now I rather fancy a trip to South Korea.

Village children turn out to do some planting
North Korea, just south of the Chinese border

We crossed the river on the Chinese-Korean Friendship Bridge, which runs beside an older bridge destroyed in the Korean War and left like the Pont d’Avignon as a memorial of sorts.

The end of the bridge over the Yalu River destroyed in the Korean War

Back in China

Darkness was falling as we rolled into Dandong. The Chinese border town seemed full of life and bustle after the moribund DPRK, the streets were ablaze with neon lights (the Chinese do like a bit of neon) and busy with traffic. The city even has a Tesco – how civilised can you get?

The formalities took place beside the gleaming platforms of Dandong station. We saw Je being taken away by the border guards, which was a little worrying. Apparently he had neglected to equip himself with a double entry visa. This, we thought, must happen every week, if not every day and the judicious application of a little cash would doubtless solve the problem - they could hardly send him back to North Korea.

He was still missing when the attendant arrived to announce that dinner was ready. Our section had been detached from the Korean train before crossing the bridge but had not yet been attached to the Chinese train so we had to get out and walk up the platform to reach the dining car - it was a long train.

A Chinese dinner with Hollywood Realism

We sat down and beer was distributed. The cans of Pabst beer bore a military motif and were dedicated to the American forces of World War II. Considering the attitude of the people we had just left, this caused an ironic smile followed by the thought that only in American and North Korea would this be considered appropriate – enemies often have more in common than they realise - and the line between ‘socialist realism’ (see the paintings in the Pyongyang metro) and the ‘Hollywood realism’ of the beer cans was thin indeed.

{Brandchannel inform me these special edition cans were made only for the Chinese market (why?). I borrowed the artwork from their website which has since disappeared, so no link anymore.]

Pabst beer can - Heroic American Soldier
A can with bad taste inside and out

We ate a mushroom dish with onions and chillies, meat balls, and a vegetable dish with little pieces of meat. Each had been carefully prepared in its own individual sauce; it was like eating in colour, after the monochrome of the DPRK....but...much as I enjoyed the food, the beer was poor compared to the surprisingly characterful North Korean brews.

Heroic North Korean soldier and youth on a monument in Pyongyang
Better beer, but equally dire artwork

[Update:In 2022 I collected the best of the Socialist Realism artworks we have encountered in our travels, from Estonia in the west to North Korea in the east, and made a single post out of them. It also includes Hollywood Realism and Imperialist Realism and can be found here.]

Nobody attempted to photograph their dinner, but if they had no one would have stopped them. Freedom sometimes involves not bothering to do something that nobody wants you not to.

The return to our compartment involved a long walk through the second class sleeping area, the bunks stacked three tiers high. We travelled this way from Guangzhou to Yichang in 2005, it was fine, but I am now old enough to admit that I prefer the comfort of the soft sleepers.

Je had returned with his passport properly stamped; our earlier conjecture had been right. Darkness fell and we rolled on through the Chinese night. I did not sleep well, though there was no good reason for that, and we arrived at Beijing Station pretty much on time at 8 o'clock in the morning.

Back in Beijing

Beijing is a big bustling city at the heart of a big bustling country, and Beijing Zahn is a big bustling station. There were crowds, there was noise, there were people moving purposefully – welcome back to the world.

Beijing Railway Station
(photographed nine days earlier)

We said our goodbyes as our group split up and we went our separate ways. L and I trundled our case the short distance to the City Line Hotel, where for the second time in ten days we attempted to check in while other guests were still eating breakfast.

They were, again, very obliging, though they did send us away for an hour while they prepared a room. We sat drinking coffee in a little restaurant near the station, surrounded by locals – it would have been nice to have done the same in the DPRK. The North Koreans do not understand that, indeed do not want to understand it. That was why, for all their hospitality, the perceptions of the DPRK we had before we arrived were largely unchanged by the experience of actually being there.


Posted by at 2 comments:
Labels:
Location: Sinŭiju, North Pyongan, North Korea
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)