Old, Grey and Beautiful
It can be hard traveling as an American in poorer countries. In my travels, I've become hardened to people who are only after my money. Being greeted by 'well-wishers' immediately after getting off a train only reinforces my fortitude. Arriving in Ping Yao the morning after my overnight train was no different. I was planning to only stay the day and head out the night on another overnight sleeper to Xi'an and immediately tried to book my ticket. A pretty lady of about 40 years and speaking passable English wasn't dissuaded by my aversion to booking at her hotel for the night and tried to help me arrange my ticket. However, she said there were none left. Not speaking Mandarin, how could I argue with her? I went on an instinct, and took her up on her offer to store my pack at her hotel for the day while I wandered Ping Yao.
At her hotel, she left me with her husband, Jipu, while she went back for her bike. Jipu is the only certified English-speaking guide in Ping Yao, and we had a very nice talk over some fresh, hot green tea about life in China, how his two kids were preparing for university and how he and his wife are trying to make a go of their new hotel. It was a nice experience, and this time my instincts served me quite well, especially since their friend at the train station was later able to get me the 'last ticket to Xi'an'. Maybe, but what did I care?
Ping Yao itself is a beautiful, preserved walled city dating back to the 9th century B.C. Example of both Qing and Ming Dynasty architecture line the grey streets, and you can imagine the city flourishing with activity, from merchants at the world's first bank to those praying at either the Daoist or city god's temple. Walking the perimeter of the wall above the city, I look out over the grey expanse, further enhanced by the brooding clouds that would later bring rain and snow to the streets below. Along one wall I see the highlights of the city, the street vendors and temples. Along another in the north, city slums fill out the remaining spaces.
I wasn't quite prepared for the drop in temperature from Beijing and was quite cold that day, especially after the rain started. The cold dampness permeated every brick in every building, and every fiber of my clothes. But the rain soon turned to snow as the sun started to descend beyond the city wall. Red lanterns glowed outside small restaurants and shops against the dreary, grey walls and the city turned magical. I was glad for the cold, glad for the snow.
And I was glad to be heading to Xi'an later that night tucked under a warm blanket.
At her hotel, she left me with her husband, Jipu, while she went back for her bike. Jipu is the only certified English-speaking guide in Ping Yao, and we had a very nice talk over some fresh, hot green tea about life in China, how his two kids were preparing for university and how he and his wife are trying to make a go of their new hotel. It was a nice experience, and this time my instincts served me quite well, especially since their friend at the train station was later able to get me the 'last ticket to Xi'an'. Maybe, but what did I care?
Ping Yao itself is a beautiful, preserved walled city dating back to the 9th century B.C. Example of both Qing and Ming Dynasty architecture line the grey streets, and you can imagine the city flourishing with activity, from merchants at the world's first bank to those praying at either the Daoist or city god's temple. Walking the perimeter of the wall above the city, I look out over the grey expanse, further enhanced by the brooding clouds that would later bring rain and snow to the streets below. Along one wall I see the highlights of the city, the street vendors and temples. Along another in the north, city slums fill out the remaining spaces.
I wasn't quite prepared for the drop in temperature from Beijing and was quite cold that day, especially after the rain started. The cold dampness permeated every brick in every building, and every fiber of my clothes. But the rain soon turned to snow as the sun started to descend beyond the city wall. Red lanterns glowed outside small restaurants and shops against the dreary, grey walls and the city turned magical. I was glad for the cold, glad for the snow.
And I was glad to be heading to Xi'an later that night tucked under a warm blanket.
posted by Unknown at 11:15 AM
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