April 9, 2001 (Day 33)

April 9, 2001 (Day 33): Bell Tower Hotel, Xi’an – 11pm

Morale: Good, despite the weather. A number of people keep asking if we are on our honeymoon. I guess that is a good sign that we are interacting well.

Health:  Tired, but good.

No trip of ours would be complete, it seems, without a sandstorm. Today was our day. There was a dramatic change in the weather overnight, even catching Lucy, our guide, unaware. It has become much colder with skies darkened from a sandstorm just to the north. What we did not consider is what happens when all that sand and dust meets rain clouds. It rained dirt, literally. Our clothes are speckled with brown from where raindrops hit. The windscreen of the car was coated to a paint-like consistency. Everything, ourselves included, looked and felt grimy. It wasn’t until the afternoon – when snow mixed with rain – that everything began to clear up a bit. Poor Lucy spent the day shivering from the cold. It is supposed to be chilly tomorrow, too.

Lucy has renewed my faith in guides. She is very knowledgeable, personable, and willing to answer questions. She also handles the delicate “gift shop” issues well, knowing we are not particularly interested in the shopping component. I am happy because I feel I am learning something. Because of her help, I think I could provide a rough order of the major Chinese Imperial Dynasties. She is such a wonderful contrast to our guide experience in Beijing.

After a brief slowdown so that I could look out a muddy car window at the sodden Mausoleum of the First Chinese Emperor, Qin Shihuang, still un-excavated, we were off to see the Terracotta Warriors that this emperor commissioned. A hangar-like building encloses the main pit (Pit 1); the biggest site with an estimated 6000 statues contained therein. The scale is astounding. Looking across the length of this massive building I began to have some idea of the huge number of statues contained in this place. I did a rough estimate and “counted” 1100 soldiers in just one section (that is, 11 columns with 25 rows of soldiers, standing four abreast). The entire pit is covered but it is not all unearthed – some portions remain covered to protect the statues. Careful digs allowed them to calculate the dimensions of the room without having to excavate everything. Like soldiers marching into battle, the statues on the flanks were facing out instead of the direction the troops were marching. Identify a few soldiers on the flanks, and the perimeter was simple to delimit.

A majority of the statues are broken, but not from natural causes. A few years after the warriors were completed and sealed into their underground chamber, there was a revolt. Peasants broke into the chamber, destroying many of the statues and setting fire to the support beams, collapsing the roof. The site was then forgotten and remained so until 1974.

Guess what? This was a UNESCO World Heritage Site!

We saw a photo at the site of the Clintons walking down among the soldiers. I tried to convince Lucy that I am almost as important as Bill Clinton and, therefore, we should get to go down there as well. She didn’t buy it.

We got to watch a 360-vision film about the creation of the Terracotta Soldiers. Despite the cast of hundreds, it was not particularly well done except for the gripping clay-making scenes and the battles performed by the Not Ready for Kung-Fu Players. The guy wielding the molded plastic chair was my favorite.

While waiting for the next showing of the film, we had ample opportunity to indulge ourselves in souvenir shopping including “authentic replicas” of the Terracotta Soldiers. I know that the selling point is that these statues are made from the same clay as the originals, but what really is an “authentic replica”? I suppose you get a certificate of authenticity, verifying that it is – indeed – not original.

Then, a brush with celebrity. Signing books at one of the gift shops was the peasant whose well-digging activities led to the discovery of the statues. Or at least this shop claimed this was “the peasant” – he had no certificate of authenticity that I could see. Later we walked by another place claiming to have “the peasant”. Seriously, people, we are dumb tourists. We are not going to pore over archival photos trying to see if this is the right guy. Just parade some dude in front of us, we’ll never know. I am amused by the idea that someone is content to be referred to as a “peasant”. Personally, I think “entry-level agrarian engineer” would look better on a resume, but no one asked me.

Lunch would have been unmemorable except for two items: first was our waitresses habit of announcing her presence with a mousy, “It’s me” and second was a little mistake I made trying to be honest. The service was excellent, very solicitous, but the food was uninteresting. At the end, we were given a survey to fill out about our experience. They waited expectantly as I answered the three questions about the service, restaurant, and food – rating each item as either “Very Good”, “Good”, “Common” or “Poor”. My selecting “Common” to describe the food caused a stir. I heard our waitress groan worriedly. Having barely completed my choice, the form was spirited away into the kitchen. Moments later, five staffers appeared asking for more information in the “Comment” section. The five huddled around me, echoing each letter created by the stroke of my pen, responding with increased excitement at the completion of every word. They stood behind me, so Anna gave me the play-by-play. It became clear we were in the midst of a cultural situation. While there was nothing exceptional about the food, it was not terrible. I decided it was perhaps easier to change my opinion and allow them to save face. Otherwise, I might still be at the restaurant accepting apologies.

Xi’an is, we are told, known for its steamed dumpling dishes. We let our guide set up dinner for us tonight so that we could sample some. What makes the meal interesting is that many of the dumplings are shaped; some in the shape of the food they contain – like fish and vegetables – some shaped like boats. The meal was served in several courses. The waitress would bring a covered tray with a few pairs of dumplings – one of each type for each of us – and explain what they were. After indicating a particular item, both Anna and I looked quizzically at each other. We asked the waitress to repeat what she has said the dumpling contained. She did. Not convinced, I asked, “Monkey?”  She concurred, finished describing the other dumplings on the tray, and disappeared to the kitchen.

We looked at each other. For me, the decision was not hard to make. The dumplings were bite-sized. If they had prepared the monkey like the chicken in Beijing – lying there whole with a grape in its mouth – I may have been a bit more hesitant. I figured one bite would not kill me. Anna also followed suit.

Which begs the question: what does monkey taste like?  On the record, I will officially state it tastes like chicken. But that is not completely true. It was rich, kind of sweet. Considering the size of the portion, I am not sure how much was dumpling, how much was seasoning, and how much was monkey. It was not terrible, but I am in no hurry to sample it again.

Excerpts from Anna’s journal included

• ChasingFogg15
• China
• Travel
• UNESCO
• Xian