Work has become something I more or less look forward to. There are now 8 people in my staffroom, 6 of whom speak the English. The other 2 are nice people. The remainder of the staff have also been far more welcoming towards me this year. I teach Grades 1 and 2 now, and so see another 8 teachers on a weekly basis. About 7 teachers left our school at the end of February and were replaced by newcomers. Almost everyone except for Byeong-Chan (aka "Grandpa Teacher") has a different role this year. It also seems that all the kids say hello to me now. The atmosphere has undoubtedly changed for the better. I've signed on for another year. And I get a pay rise on top of all that.
My China posting was moving along at a snail's pace and then stopped completely. I wanted to document it in detail but the school schedule wasn't allowing for that. Here, I'll try to finish my trip in one final blog, taking in Xian, Beijing, and the Great Wall Hostel at Gubeikou.
On our final night in Shanghai, Michelle and I arranged to go and see some acrobats. Unfortunately photography was not allowed so I couldn't document it. Their feats of strength and flexibility were enough to leave me with the determination to never abuse my body in any way ever again, a determination which lasted a whopping 3 days. I took a flight to Xian as train tickets were fully booked. The idea was to take the train and watch the landscape change over a lazy 18 hours out to Shaanxi province. By air, it was just as interesting: we took off from the metropolis of Shanghai and a vision of neon, wealth and decadence and pierced through the clouds. 2 hours later, coming down again, we were back in the 3rd world, flying over farms, the dusty and flat earth divided up into its allotments, soviet era trucks belching black smoke into the air.
After taking the airport "express" into the centre of Xian (at one point the driver stopped, got out of the bus and disappeared from sight, not reappearing for 10 minutes) I set off for my new digs near the south gate of the old city. The Shuyuan was a really impressive old courtyard residence and the staff were terrific; unfortunately it was a "party hostel" so every morning at 4 we were woken by shouts of "OHMYGARD" and "WOT A FUCKIN BELL END MATE" and an assortment of other snippets of highly intelligent conversation.
Next day: the warriors. Here's a picture!
This is inside the main hangar (Pit 1) at "Bingmayong." The first warrior was discovered here by a farmer digging for a well in 1974. These days he's a minor celebrity and sits in the souvenir shop signing copies of his book all day. All up there are around 8000 clay warriors, though not all of them have been uncovered.
The next day I set out to cycle around the city walls. It was hard work and pretty boring at times, but also impressive to be on top of a Ming-dynasty structure. At some times on the trip I really wanted to be able to share the moment with someone and this was one of them. It didn't help that couple after couple cycled past me on those tandem bicycles, mostly travelling in the opposite direction!
Lonely? Me?
Before I left Xian I took a lesson in how to cross a Chinese road. First, you wait for other pedesrians to arrive in order to go for safety in numbers. Then, when there are enough of you, stick to them like glue, crossing one lane of traffic at a time in an unspoken pedestrians' agreement. Keep your body square on to the lines of cars, trucks, buses and bicycles coming at you. Midway on your journey you will be in the middle of 6 lanes of traffic and trying to avoid being collected by several vehicles at once, but it is a metaphor for life in many ways: only those who persevere do not end up flattened by the 310 bus to the Drum Tower. When and if you reach the other side you may feel the desire to hug your fellow travellers in the way survivors of an air disaster often express spontaneous emotion. If you are comfortable with this, let yourself do it. They will probably be puzzled or maybe amused at your behaviour.
An excerpt from my diary, January 26, 2011:
"Here I am in the "soft seat waiting room," an absolutely brilliant find, because although it's almost filled to capacity with China's middle-class now, it's nothing compared to the carnage out there in proletarian-class. We think Central Station in Sydney is a dump, and when compared to the rest of the country it may well be, but the chaos of a Chinese railway station is about to most "3rd world" situation I have yet seen: the rush, the filth and confusion, the military and police everywhere, the shouting, people queueing but not quite, bag-checks, trying to determine what the characters mean, getting your ticket checked at least 3 times, worrying about whether or not you're in the right place, being pushed along all the time, being pushed if you stop to collect yourself. This may well be the evening where I begin to miss the familiarity of Korea and the comforts of my flat: guaranteed hot shower, near-guarantee on a good night's sleep, internet access, warmth."
Well there it is: the origins of my appreciation of Korea at Xian railway station. The journey from Xian to Beijing itself was really comfortable. Not many people travel into the big cities at that time of year (compared with the people coming out), so I shared the compartment just with one other middle aged bloke, who spoke English well and helped me find a few things the next day. For all of its chaos, you always meet kind people on your journey in China, and I arrived at the well-maintained and peaceful Chinese Box Courtyard Hostel with the sudden desire to stop moving around and just settle here for the remainder of my trip.
Well I didn't quite manage to finish the trip in this blog, but will get back to it ASAP. Hope you're all travelling well!
