But here I am, seven months in, deeply in love with this country and dreading May 30th. I can't wait to start school and start approaching this country from a distanced, academic perspective. And of course, I am bursting to see my family and drive a car and breathe clean air and eat waffles, but I hate the idea that I am going to have to say goodbye to China really soon now.
On a different note, last week I made the spontaneous decision to take a small vacation to Nanjing, a place I have been intending to visit since October. Nanjing is one of the four former capitals of the Ming dynasty, its name literally meaning "south capital." On of the aspects that I really enjoyed about Nanjing is the combination of the new and the ancient. It is both geographically a midpoint between Shanghai and Beijng and also feels like a medium between the two. Right now it has a population of 7.5 million people, and back in its hayday, was the largest city in the world. It has many famous temples, massive downtown and industrial park, a lake, and is home to the largest fraction of surviving city wall in China. It is also the site of a brutal massacre of 300,000 people in 1937, when the Japanese seized the city.
We arrived in Nanjing at about one in the afternoon in the north part of the city. We were able to take the metro almost directly to our hostel, which was perfectly situated on the cusp of a bustling night market and famous street food district. We had lunch, which included the Nanjing specialty of salted duck, and set off for the massacre museum. I am rather proud of myself, because this is the first trip that I have planned almost completely by myself (a host parent bought the train tickets) and had turn out rather smoothly. Because I am a huge fan of public transportation, I wanted us to take a bus from around our hotel to the museum. There are four bus companies in Nanjing. In Shanghai, the buses are all run/subsidized by the government so there are all state of the art, pristine, streamlined attractive vehicles. In Nanjing, two of four bus companies are this way. The buses that we took all we not. Our bus drove straight out of the 70s (so I believe). It was a rattling hunk of metal that huffed and puffed to get moving, and when stopped, the contents of the mechanics below me echoed and shook like a massive baby rattle.
We safely arrived at the museum, however, despite my fears that the bus would break down. I really enjoyed the memorial, for the most part. It was one of the saddest places I had ever been. At the entrance to the memorial there was a row of sculptures each paired with a brief, very graphic poem. The scultpires themselves managed to convey the terror of the massacre, each figure was blurred and the iron flesh melting from their bones. The memorial itself was a massive black and stone space, with "300,o00" pasted on a massive wall. It was very difficult for me to deal with. At various points throughout the memorial, there was shelves where people had left 1,000 crane chains and a space dedicated to burn incense-a towering black wall with one character: forgiveness. I was however disturbed by how the gravesite was displayed: it was excavated with skeletons open and covered in numbered plaques detailing the ways in which each victim was murdered. Despite reminders of common decency posted everywhere "solemn silence" the Chinese were behaving as they always do at attractions-posing for pictures, loudly chatting, snapping shots of me. Also, on the very Chinese aspects of the visit-as a foreigner I was required to sign in.
On Sunday we woke up early and went to Nanjing's famous Yishang Tang Shan hot spring which was about an hour's drive north of the city. I had intended for us to take a bus to the hot spring, but it could not be found anywhere, so I somewhat reluctantly hired a man with a van to take us there for 15 yuan (less than $3) each. I was afraid that the van was going to break down, too. It couldn't quite reach the speed limit on the highway and clunked whenever the driver switched gears. The driver was at least fun to talk to, he made fun of some of our Mandarin in a playful way, and was elated that I spoke a few phrases of Shanghainese. Cab drivers are a real riot. We got to the hot spring, which I thought would be like camping, smelly, kind of gross, but ultimately worth the bother, but it was really nice. There was a gorgeous resort with automatic lockers that opened when you ran your bracelet over them. We bathed for about six hours. There was a normal hot bath, various flower baths, tea baths, wine baths, waterfall baths, and flesh eating fish baths!!! I had read about the flesh eating fish pedicures, and always wanted to try it, but they haven't made their way to Boise yet. The fish in the pool were much larger than in the pictures I had seen, slightly longer and much wider than my index finger. It was very ticklish, but very awesome. I would have my dead skin cells be eaten away by flesh eating fish anytime. Also appreciated at the hotspring was a nice smelling clean shower. I refused to bath a the hostel, which offered a slightly moldy, adjacent to squatty potty option. Not for me, nor anyone else in the hostel I think, because it seemed that everyone was washing their hair in the sink.
After we got back into the city on Sunday, we rested for a bit and then headed to the ancient city wall. As I mentioned earlier in this post, the city wall in Nanjing is the longest still standing. Today, as the city of Nanjing has expanded beyond its ancient boundaries, the wall dances across the high rises in and out of the city scape. When driving out the city proper, the highway moves through ancient military main gate. We went to the top of a smaller gate, where we could watch at the bricks ran into the horizon on either side. The sensation was completely different from visiting the Great Wall. There, I was transported back to when the wall was used, the air clear, almost alone, time stood still. In Nanjing, I felt that that my view of China's modernity was truly captured-I was standing on the pinnacle of an ancient city wall, looking out at a major city landscape as the two became one, but to my left hummed a motor pumping air into an inflatable monster sized Hyundai advertisement.
Monday was out last day in the city, so we decided to go first to the train station to lock our luggage (which, as all tasks in China was completed with a significant amount of time and great difficulty). Our train for Shanghai didn't leave until about six. We then decided to walk out to the bus station and ask for directions to Purple Mountain. Unfortunately, two of our party decided this wasn't very fun so they decided to disappear to a nearby McDonald's. While waiting for their return, we made friends with the Crowd. After finding out which bus to take, we decided to sit on a bench and continue the rest of the day's plans. A map vendor approached us and when I said I wasn't interested as I already had a map, she overrated. This was unlike anything that I had previously experienced. The scale to which my existence caused a raucous was unprecedented. Their were about 25-50 people crowded around, taking turns asking me questions, asking me to ask my friends (one of which does speak Chinese, but evidently I was the speaker for the group) questions. They wanted my to ask one to take off her glasses so they could see her eyes, they kept asking about my hair and where we came from and how we could be in Nanjing. It was very strange. But the crowd is to be thanked for my not loosing it at the Lost Boys for making us wait forever.
We eventually arrived at Purple Mountain, which was stunning. We first climbed stairs up the mountain to Sun Yat-sen's mausoleum. Of course, I didn't make it up the stairs without first being accosted to pose for pictures with Chinese tourists. I must say though, Sunny is a lucky guy to be resting there for eternity. The view is ineffable. Plus, he is facing east, so he watches the sun rise first over the city, then over the wooded mountain. The mausoleum was a little puzzling to me, however. The main decorative feature was a very Roman looking sun. The architect of the building was a Beida graduate, and won the commission in a national contest. I do not understand why a western inspired design was selected to commemorate such a Chinese figure. The artistic work, including sculpture and the design of the coffin were of French and Czech design. Furthermore, in every wax re-imagination and painting and sculpture of Sun Yat-Sen I could not overcome how Western his features seemed. I think he was of a different minority, not traditional Han, but upon seeing him I would say the he was English. This is the kind of thing that the Chinese government would see as a wonderful propaganda opportunity. Make Sun Yat-Sen look like the people, so the people will like him. Maybe they didn't think of it yet, maybe I have been in China long enough to think like a government official.
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