A Life Less Ordinary

Note: This is a fairly long entry and only covers my time in Xi’an. I am attempting to do what I promised on this blog, share both thoughts, but also experiences in a journal type setting. I’ve bolded important sites for those that simply want my opinions of major ones, but as a forewarning, China is not a place to be described in a few short paragraphs. With that, happy reading. Additionally, I’ve posted my China pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/evanjdoran.

We departed Hong Kong in the mid afternoon of a muggy Thursday afternoon. All thirty-nine of us waited eagerly for our flight to Xi’an to be called to board, waiting to experience what each of has had heard stories about: Syracuse’s famed China Seminar. We knew what was in store but only through images from Wikipedia and tales from well traveled aunts or cousins. The Great Wall, Forbidden City, Terra Cotta Army and the other relics of an ancient China that still only lingered in the memories of the generation prior to ours. The Orangemen and those of us not associated with Syracuse boarded our bus after landing and were disappointed to realize that our bus ride to our hotel was going to include pitch black images of night and a long winded brief on Xi’an from our local tour guide, Tony.

Hesitating to get out of our comfortable beds, we met and headed to the first of the many attractions that were waiting for us: The Museum of the Terra Cotta Warriors. I say attractions because unfortunately it is the most fitting word, thousands of spectators milling through crowds of eager vendors and subtle pick-pockets. The pure imagery of thousands of terra cotta soldiers staring blankly ahead was awe-inspiring for sure, but the onlooker was left with a sense of bewilderment when the sky was blocked by a giant airport hangar.   The craftsmanship should not go unnoticed, both for the original workers as well as the rebuilders who pieced together each unique man from millions of fragments of Terra Cotta left after harsh conditions and harsher villagers left their mark. What should possibly go unmentioned is the traditional custom of rearing a child in China which includes clothes with no coverings for private areas. Streets are used as children’s toilets and Dad’s hands are supports for little ones who can’t yet stand to pee. I only wish I was kidding. I’m talking about full frontal child nudity here.

We next headed to our second and not yet final stop, the Forest of Stone Tablets.  As the name doesn’t describe, this was a traditional Chinese complex which enshrined a collection of large flat stones onto which ancient Chinese philosophy, laws, and customs have been engraved. It was not a popular destination for our exhausted group and there were more than a few attempts at nap taking on damp benches. This was one of the first times that our group began to really interact on a more than superficial level. Questions became “Why are you in China?” and “What are some of your goals?” instead of “Where do you go to school?” We moved from freshman to sophomore year in a matter of days. This was at first glance a quick group, but I wasn’t ready to make a full conclusion. Our last stop took us through the streets of old Xi’an, past markets where vendors hawked lychee and green teas, flying toys and whirling strobe lights. The smell of the meat was enough to look, the sight enough to pass on. Our seminar professor, British ex-pat Philip Bruce was eager to guide us through the muddy alleys and small construction projects on the way to Xi’an’s famed Great Mosque. The Mosque is interesting in that the building keeps many of the traditional Islamic functions while similarly maintaining a completely Chinese architectural style. After the mosque we headed back through the maze of the ancient city towards a “famous” (Read: touristy) Chinese dumpling restaurant. Marshall and I roused our table into an eating contest in which we had no clear opponents, but the seven of us managed to eat every single piece of dim sum placed on our table. I nearly spat out the mushroom stuffed steamed bun, but held it together in sacrifice for the good of the table. We were victorious.

By the second day, after we raced around the 20 mile City Wall of Xi’an on bikes and each lost half our body weights in sweat; I could clearly notice certain groups forming within our larger Orange Crew. Though I never abandoned my GW pride, I couldn’t help at least creating alliances with the Orangemen if only for social enjoyment during my time here. Matt and Rachel, my GW compatriots biked along the wall and pointed out bits of China’s cultural legacies together through the mass of dilapidated high rises. We next had a delicious traditional Chinese lunch with our guide Tony and Prof. Bruce explaining the intricacies of “hot pot,” a traditional Chinese eating method similar to fondue. I very nearly printed the application for Top Chef back at the hotel after creating some truly awesome sauces. Our afternoon was spent at a rural village outside of Xi’an which was called something along the lines of Dong Yang. It was a very eye-opening experience to see both the poverty that had been in the village for centuries and the newly built cinder block multi-story homes being built back from the roads. The village children split evenly between swarming those of us who brought candy and pencils and those too shy to ask. With the help of Mo and Wyatt, our ‘Putonghua’ or Mandarin speakers, we coaxed the kids out of hiding. The local tour guide took us through muddy trails and paved walkways, rusted kitchens and lighted living rooms complete with TV’s. The variation in living just within one village was astounding, though nearly all the citizens had roughly the same income. The day at the village was the glue that held our group together, bursting at the seams for some separation and air. The next morning’s 5 AM wakeup call did nothing to calm our nerves or quench our exhaustion; we had to make our 8:00 flight to Beijing.  Having not yet grown accustomed to spending nearly 24/7 with the same 39 kids, I realized were going to have to learn fast or regret it. Hopefully Beijing meant bonding, delineation, and at the very least, more comfortable beds.

To be continued…