Chinese Dim Sum Cuisine

The name dim sum, literally means "to dot your heart" may refer to small dishes Chinese eat between meals, for snacks or tea time. These small portions, bite-size Chinese food consists of a variety of steamed, braised, baked and deep fried dishes, are not only pleasant to the eyes but delicious too.
"(In Canton) the Chinese fondness for snacks and small eats reaches a kind of apotheosis." E.N. Anderson, quoted in Ken Hom's 'The Taste of China'

Made from the freshest ingredients, dim sum is often served in the morning as breakfast or brunch in Chinese restaurants (not all of them serve dim sum) where instead of ordering, you choose from a wide assortment of tantalizing delicacies that the waiters bring out on trolleys and trays.  
There are the flavorful steamed shrimp dumplings wrapped in soft and subtle rice flour pastry (Har Gao), deep-fried egg-rolls, steamed buns with roast pork (Char Siu Bao), crispy yam croquette filled with minced pork, shrimps and Chinese mushrooms (Woo Kok), turnip cake (Lor Bak Ko), mango custard tarts and the list goes on and on. Dim sum chefs will constantly come up with new creations and may take you several visits to determine your favorites.
"The discovery of a new dish does more for human happiness than the discovery of a new star." (Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, The Physiology of Taste)

One thing about a meal of dim sum is that you can drink Chinese tea and you are often said to be drinking tea 'YUM CHA' when you have a meal of dim sum. Originated in tea houses in Canton, China, where you can find the best dim sum and Chinese dumplings, this unique Chinese food is now very popular in other Asian countries and in the west.

At 'yum cha', if you notice someone tapping impatiently by their cup when a friend pours them tea, they're not being impolite. It's a way of saying thank you.

 

Once a Naval Secret

Have you ever wondered where the expression ‘feeling blue’ originated? Regardless of its origins, it’s easy to feel this way as the cold dead of winter steals the blue and warmth from the skies overhead. As the days turn to weeks and the weeks to months since have seen the sun through the clouds let alone the last time blue sky was visible my mind sweeps back to sweet memories of last summer.

I see myself sitting near the base of the lighthouse on the rugged northern coast of Shandong at the point that marks the boundaries of the Bohai and the Huanghai. This lighthouse sits atop the diminutive cliffs of Tianhengshan overlooking a calm azure sea beneath a clear blue cloudless sky. Blues so intense they draw me into their depths. I think of home! No surf or even a hint of a swell rolling in here but I am grateful for the sight of the sea and the many shades of blue – a sea that stretches to the horizon and a sky that is high and clear – it sooths my soul. 
 
Looking a little like a fairytale castle, Penglai has a rather mysterious legend which is also part of her attraction. It was from here that the mythical eight immortals are said to have walked across the Bohai. Just as fascinating is the intermittent appearance of what has been considered a mirage – these sightings often resemble an island or castles and have more recently been scientifically attributed on the atmospheric conditions at the time they appear.

Penglai has another secret – or at least it was a secret once - an ancient fortified harbour and this is what I have come to see. Passenger ferries leave a new and sheltered harbour behind the headland passing to the west beneath us on their way to ports near and far. Getting here is easier than ‘walking on the water’ these days with access by speedboat, cable car or on foot as I did along the cliff top. From the beach, many take the challenging and strenuous walk along Tianheng’s ancient and rickety plank road near the base of the cliffs. From my vantage point I have a commanding 360º view overlooking this fascinating, historical site.
 
I am content with my vista of blues. I sit soaking up the sights and the sounds – a cool breeze evaporating the moisture from my bare skin. Penglai, once a strategic maritime and naval port is built at the waist of this large bay with the Shandong Peninsular in the south and the Korean Peninsular to the north and east. Temples and pagodas with traditional Chinese flying eaves and a mini version of the Great Wall lie amongst the colourful, rambling gardens overlooking the sea and the secreted harbour. It’s a popular summer destination, just a short one-hour drive west of Yantai on a broad six-lane highway.

The park entrance is on the waterfront just a short walk from the bus station but many of Penglai’s attractions are spread throughout the new town. An electric bus ferries visitors to and from each of the sights so be careful not to miss them. Once inside the grounds, I first tour the maritime museum where the partial hulls of unearthed ancient wooden boats of the Yuan dynasty are now preserved. It is hot and crowded so I move quickly through the rooms intrigued with the quality and content of the display. Many other artifacts have been recovered from the seabed giving clues to both the trade and daily life in the region. 
 
Following the path from the museum I join the crowds on a footbridge and platform built across the entrance of the secret harbour. What an ingenious and safe haven for the navy of the day. It seems that everyone stops to take a photo here. Were they thinking the same thoughts as I am or just adding to their holiday snaps – I think the latter more likely. I snap a few of my own – though not of me – looking back into the harbour and once again out to sea and east along the coast to a distant six tiered tower on a small island just off shore. One of those gracefully arched bridges with eight supporting arches spans the narrow channel between the island and the shore.

The fortification wall hugs the cliff to its peak. I don’t know where the crowd has gone but it is quiet and empty here as I walk beside the wall. A beacon tower originally built during the Qing Dynasty is perched on the edge of the cliff snugly surrounded by temple pavilions some dating back to 1061. Each of these tells a story of eons past and houses the work of calligraphers, poets and philosophers. Narrow alleys wind between buildings – overgrown with shrubs and creepers they are cool and refreshingly empty of people. In centuries past these gardens must have been a delightful retreat from the otherwise harsh realities of life in this distant outpost. 
 
Outside the fortified walls to the west a road leads up to the back of the lighthouse and the bell tower on Tianheng which overlooks both the Penglai pavilion and the meeting place of the two seas. A cable car glides quietly above the beach between the two headlands giving easy access to the point. I take my time to walk enjoying the bright and varied colours of the familiar flowering shrubs. It’s hot and sticky out of the breeze and I use my umbrella. Soon I emerge from the gardens onto the cliff top and am looking at the sea again. From here the view is stunning and I stop often to take in the scene – the sea and the sky, the bush and the flowers, those mysterious dark tiled rooftops and pagodas, the lighthouse and cliffs and that snaking wall.

A set of stairs march up before the bell tower - fully exposed to the early afternoon sun. Those of us who have made it this far take a rest in the cool sea breeze on the shady side of the building. I make myself comfortable – my back pressed against one of the red columns of the tower with the blue of sea and sky all around me. Occasionally the deep dull resonance of the chiming bell disturbs the chatter of those around me. A constant hum of religious chanting floats in on the gentle breeze. I sit a long time here and savour my surroundings, knowing that it will be many months before I see the likes of this again. 
 
Penglai has so much to offer and not wanting to miss any of it I make my way down the back of the headland, through the gardens with their love nests and exotic flora to the Naval Museum and Imax Cinema. These are a short distance from the exit of the fort and are included in the ticket price. While I wait I’m encouraged to spend more on a ticket for the upper level of the cinema. The Naval Museum is compact and full of interesting artifacts from both land and sea and should not be missed.

From here an electric bus transports visitors several kilometers to another historical site inside the old city walls and is also included in the original ticket. While very little of the city wall remains, the Drum Tower still stands and an effort is being made to rejuvenate the surrounding area. Red lanterns line the stone flagged streets and in the evenings the place is a buzz with stands and the smell of barbequed meat and people making merry. The electric bus stops to the east of the Drum Tower in a large flagged area. It is quiet and devoid of crowds but I can hear singing close by. 
 
Not your usual Chinese music – this is different and as I turn to take in my surroundings I spot the cross on the top of the old church building next to the square. I make my way around to a gate off the main street and ask if I can take a look inside. It is Saturday afternoon and the church choir is practicing. No one seems to mind as I step inside almost falling into the huge open baptismal font as I entered through the side door near the pulpit. Welcoming smiles from the women and a handful of men greet me as I take a seat on the opposite side of the sanctuary in this old church and sit listening. None of us speak a word in either language – but more is conveyed in the silence between us than ever could be said with words. 
 
My time in Penglai is running out and there is more to see. Away from the coast and out of the breeze it is humid and sticky. I need to keep moving. In the shadow of the Drum tower an impressive carved stone gate marks the entrance to the beautifully restored compound and former home of Qi Jiguang just inside the city wall and includes a small museum displaying military equipment. A well-educated man of peace schooled in both culture and military tactics, this Penglai native and Ming Dynasty general became a national hero for his efforts in protecting the nation from Japanese pirates.

As one of the privileged in China he certainly lived with style, beauty and grace – each of the small walled gardens served a different purpose – one for writing, for walking, for quiet contemplation, for tending exotic plants and fruit trees, a household garden by the kitchen and the largest for general recreation with a fish pond, a small hill and covered walkways, and viewing pavilion and platforms – all offering a very self contained life within these compound walls. 
 
Another short trip in the electric bus returns me once again to the entrance of the park, from where it is a pleasant walk along the beach. Penglai is hosting an ‘Ode to Peace’ – the International Youngsters Cultural and Artistic Ceremony with a huge display of children’s artwork arrayed along the beach esplanade. The beach is not crowded, with few people in swimming and off shore a small group of windsurfers challenges a light afternoon breeze around their triangular course. Across the street behind the beachside park is what remains of a temple, which had its upper level blown off during one of many maritime confrontations.

I take my leave in the late afternoon as workers prepare the beachside stadium for tonight’s finale of the ‘Ode to Peace’. Despite the crowds Penglai has offered me some much needed peace and restorative vistas of both sea and sky. I’ll take away some magic memories and return one day when I am ‘feeling blue’.

The Leaning Tower of Tiger Hill

Lofty Inclinations  
It’s a well-known fact that the Chinese were up on their game in the department of inventing things immeasurably useful to mankind: from paper to the compass, porcelain to gunpowder. Even contrary to my students’ textbooks (put out by Cambridge University) the Chinese invented the printing press a good 300 years before that slouch Gutenberg set our 26-letter alphabet into movable type (he’s not really a slouch—I just called him that to set up my witty pun in the next paragraph).

So it won’t be any surprise to you when I tell you that the Pisans in Italy don’t actually have the market cornered in Leaning Towers. That’s right. The Chinese managed to incline their building prowess toward towers that don’t stand up straight more than 200 years before those in the Piazza dei Miracoli began their plans (though to this day the architect of the Tower of Pisa remains a mystery…could the master of both towers be one and the same—nationality…?)
 
 
Poet's Advice

 
On top of a 36 meter high man-made hillock on the outskirts of Suzhou (already known for its likeness to Italian scenery and structure) leans the seven-storied octagonal YunYan pagoda. Its rakish tilt is the main identifying feature (and attraction) of Tiger Hill, a scenic compound of over 3 acres steeped in history and mystique. Add to that a moat and some lore oddly reminiscent to some of the West’s most famous tales and you’ve got a place so cool that Chinese poets beseech you not to miss it.

If you do, you’ll never know how much you’ll regret it.
 
 
Of Myths and Men

 
Tiger Hill’s fame begins with the death of King He Lu in 496 BCE. He Lu was the founder of Suzhou and the King of the Wu people, in addition to being patron and initiator of the art forms and cultural intricacies that make Suzhou what it is today. After he died in battle against the Yue, his son Fu Chai buried him on the hill and returned three days later to find a white tiger guarding the mound.

From these mythical origins 2500 years of singular and separate icons of Chinese history have contributed to the mosaic of attractions found on Tiger Hill today. From the Sword Stone to the Temple of the Virtuous of Lady; the Leaning Tower to Sunzi’s practice grounds; a double well that Chinese Tea Aficionado Lu Yu drew water from to classical villa architecture and a Buddhist monastery. When I was a girl my imagination often ran off into impossible tales of heroism and legendry; poetry and romance. Tiger Hill is precisely the kind of place from which my imagination would never have returned.
 
 
...And Moats

 
Why is there a moat around Tiger Hill? It’s a good question to which I couldn’t find any answer other than the experiential fact that when you cross the bridge over the moat and enter the grounds of Tiger Hill you stop being a visitor and you become part of what you’re seeing. Moats are historical, interesting, demarcating. They isolate and include. And if you successfully cross over, you’re in. My experience of moats generally involved Europe, castles, and the Western species of dragons. The Chinese moat experience wasn’t much different—whether I was aware of it or not, I had transcended. Into a world where white tigers guarded souls and 3000 swords nourished the soil in their secreted and deathly location. Where poets wrote and Buddhists meditated and soldiers honed and concubines committed suicide and were given shrines—all because they were inspired. 
 
Swords and Stone

 
Not long after you cross the moat, along the main artery up to the top of the hill, modestly sitting by the side of the path but notably marked by the swarm of tourists at its edge, lies the Sword Testing Stone. At first I thrilled at its likeness to Arthurian legend (my fantasies of castle lore lingering from the moat-crossing), but I was put duly in place by my Chinese companion, who reminded me that the hero of this story, He Lu, wasn’t pulling swords out of the stone, but simply testing their ilk by carving the stone up the middle with them. He was an incorrigible sword collector, acquiring more than 3000 in his lifetime as legend has it, which is why the Stone is so precisely sliced—all the way through—and yet still just one stone.

Before I encountered the Stone I thought it might have just been poetic license that metaphorically attached a stone which had been split by nature’s fits and renderings to the fabled King. But no, to my delight. The stone is much too precisely hewn to have been made by anything other than man. I had to believe the lore.
 
 
Embracing the Verdure, as they say

 
Facing the Stone lies the Verdant Mountain Villa, a four-tiered structure terracing the hillside. Each level is designed to expose a different panorama of ‘verdure’ to the eye. The first hall, and the lowest in altitude, is dubbed the “Urn-Embracing Hall”. You’ll have to see it for yourself to find out why, though I’m not making any promises. Next up, literally, is the “Pavilion of Inquiring the Spring” both figurative and literal. After that, the main level with two houses: “The Fine Cottage of Bright Billow” and the “Moonlight Arrival Pavilion”. Last, highest, and most austere is the “Hall for Seeing the Green Off”.

The Verdant Mountain Villa is just one of several villas and retreats constellating the hillside. It was built in 1884 by two of Suzhou’s reigning celebrities of the time. Over the dynasties, several famed personages (of local or national renown) built their own homages to verdure. Another good example is the Wangjing Villa, in which several bonsai trees stymie the eye with their impossibly controlled growth patterns.
 
 
Enough for a Thousand Men

 
About halfway up the hill is an expansive opening cobbled by giant boulders with tectonic-like rifts aptly named the “thousand man rock”. It was so named for the thousand monks who would gather here to listen to the teachings of their master. Nestled on the rock like birds flocked together, I can imagine they spent many an hour in the sunshine with the scenery stretching off before them and shade of trees all around. And just behind and above them, the pale knuckle of the Leaning Pagoda above the treetops. Today, it remains the central gathering spot for tourists to rest after summiting to the pagoda. 
 
Depths of Knowledge

 
Up the knoll from there is the open courtyard deigned the Sunzi training grounds. Sunzi, the author of the Art of War, traipsed philosophically through battles somewhere before the Qin dynasty and after He Lu was buried under the white tiger’s paws. It is said that in this space he led followers along his path of thought and practice, though no one can really be sure. It’s also got a fantastic view of the whole wobbly water table that is Suzhou, off in the distance.

Beyond that, up some steep rocky stairs and over a sharply narrow ravine, sits a bridge with two identical wells bored into it. Legend has it that below the bridge, below the water that’s below the bridge, lie the 3000 swords of He Lu’s collection that went with him into the afterlife. But nobody really knows for sure: the slaves who dug up the earth and buried the swords were executed when their task was finished.

One thing’s for sure though: the well was constructed by Lu Yu, China’s head honcho in the tea department. He wrote the Cha Ching, the Gospel of Tea, and though his whole life he ran from the privies of the monastic life, he ended his days in the monastery on the slopes of Tiger Hill, basking in his fame and drawing up water from the wells from which, he proclaimed, was the third most ideal place to get water for tea-making.
 
 
To the Tower

 
The YunYan Pagoda—Tiger Hill’s Leaning Tower—hinging at about 3 and a half degrees to the northwest for over 400 years, is a spectacular stone structure where guards depressingly bark at you not to loiter within the building and where you constantly find yourself caught blocking someone’s family photograph. Built in the Northern Song dynasty, it was constructed as part of the monastery, a pinnacle at the top of the modest hill, beckoning people up the flanks of the slope. Spiritually precise, it is octagonal in shape and seven stories tall, and other than that the guards prevent you from taking in much else. There is, however, a very cool removable stone in the center of the floor where they yearly measure the building’s angle of repose.

If all this isn’t enough to pass a day in the Venice of the East, Tiger Hill is laced with paths that lead off into the open acreage unfestooned by man’s mark. You may be inspired to leave your own.

Just beware the moat.

Smooth Sailing in the Wake of Defeat

I’m standing in the stern of the ferry looking back across our wake. The water is clear and blue, the sky is too and on shore the white high-rise buildings stand in sharp contrast against the sky. In just a few short minutes our ferry is disgorging another load of day-trippers at the islands visitor center. The lure for me was an island surrounded by crystal clear waters, steeped in centuries of history and it is just off the coast of Weihai. Since I am passing through on my way to ‘Land’s End’ at Chengshantou it seems prudent to take a look. Liugong Dao is something I’d been longing for but never thought I’d see so I am unprepared. But the thought of yet another day without a swim is soon swept away by the surrounding beauty of the island.

I’d spent the night in Weihai on my way back from Chengshantou, that picturesque village at the edge of the world. When I got off the bus the afternoon before I’d managed to find a nice cheap room near the bus station for the night. All I had heard about Weihai has been positive and it is living up to my expectations. I am up early the next morning – partly because I haven’t slept well on account of marauding mosquitoes throughout the night - but I want to make the most of another beautiful day and I’m unsure of what I will find.

Historically, Weihai has played a significant role in the defense of Beijing including China’s demoralizing defeat by the Japanese Navy in 1894. Liugong Dao together with Dalian and the port of Lushun were home to China’s Northern Naval Fleet that at the time of the confrontation numbered around forty vessels many of them bought or borrowed from Britain and Germany. Ding Ruchang, the Naval Commander at the time was a man of action, having proven himself throughout his career: he made his way through the ranks to his final and fateful position. In 1880 he was sent to Britain to deliver two new battleships, the ‘Chaoyang’ and the ‘Yangwei’. The first modern ships in the Chinese fleet as they began to recognize the wisdom of equipping their navy with the same caliber of craft that the had allowed countries like Britain, Germany and America to gain control and maintain their foothold in the Treaty Ports along the China coast.

In 1890 with the assistance of the British, Ding Ruchang set up a Naval Training School for Chinese Officers on Liugong Dao. Despite this training by the British, the Japanese were able to outwit and out maneuver the Chinese Fleet with many of her ships floundering as they fled westward before the ominous advance of the Rising Sun. Ding Ruchang, overcome with shame at the destruction of his fleet by the smaller Japanese flotilla took his own life in 1895. The British eventually took control of the island three years later, and during more than thirty years that the British controlled the island they built a Naval Academy, a hospital, a school, churches, residences and the island became a popular summer resort for the British Navy and today is another well-preserved example of foreign influence on the Peninsular.

The evening before I had been assured that I could easily get to the docks from my hotel. The bus stop was just across the intersection. I am in luck - there is a bus waiting at the stop when I arrive but it is soon evident that it is not going anywhere despite being packed. It has just had a minor altercation with a taxi – both drivers were on the street loudly voicing their opinions and gesturing wildly with their hands - the female taxi driver had pulled out in front of the bus. I wait, watch and listen for a few more minutes as the crowd of waiting passengers grows. The next bus, when it arrives would be crowded too so I hail down a taxi and head for the port where I eat breakfast before taking the ferry out to Liugong Dao.

Escaping the crowds is easy. Turning to the left after exiting the arrivals building I follow the old docks past the two story brick barracks and some modern gray patrol boats to the southerly tip of the island which faces the mainland just a few kilometers way. Dotted around the island are the remains of cannons and underground bunkers with a tunnel network. From here I follow the narrow flagged streets up the gentle slope exploring the beautifully preserved officers quarters, classrooms, and officers residences. On a small headland overlooking the passage between the island and the mainland I stumbled across another cannon placement. What a stunning view through wind swept, stunted conifers, back to the mainland, along the rugged coastline and westward towards the distant capital of the Middle Kingdom.

Just above the settlement is landscaped parkland with a small memorial to the Revolution. Much of the island is a nature reserve covered in forest from the islands peak down to the rugged western shore and a cable car carries visitors up for a 360 view. I spend several hours wandering the quiet cobbled streets, inspecting the neat but Spartan Naval Academy, the temple and small galleries and museums. Liugong Dao is a hikers paradise with just a few small roads and goat tracks across the island. As the sun rises higher in the sky I slip down to the beach beneath the concrete bow of the Jiawu Naval Museum, a tribute to the 1894/95 Sino-Japanese battle. Ding Ruchang, immortalized in stone, telescope in hand, eyes scanning the horizon stands wind swept and watching from the deck of his memorial.

Liugong’s history is a turbulent one, swinging from rural revolutions and prosperous trade through epidemic disease. Legend also has it that a merchant ship, floundering during a fierce storm, her crew fearful for their lives is drawn to the island by a mysterious light. When close enough the men leap ashore in shallow water collapsing exhausted at the feet of an old man holding the torch that had guided them in. He then helps each man, shouldering them one by one on his back into his house where his wife reputedly feeds this ravenous crew from a pot of rice that never empties. When the men rise the following morning they find the couple mysteriously gone and the local residents explain that these celestial beings often give assistance to sailors. Ironically, today there are no residents with this legendary family name.

I take my shoes off to wade in the cool refreshing water. The beach is small, narrow and none to clean but the water glistens like gold in the sunlight as each little wave tumbles in. Surprised by the sparkling in the water I take a closer look and discover gold flakes - fools gold, I suspect - tumbling in the gentle waves. I wander slowly at the waters edge, looking for shells and coral and flotsam from the sea. The beach is awash with bits of lime green kelp looking more like discarded plastic shopping bags until closer inspection reveals the truth. My thoughts return to swimming but I have no bathers and nowhere discrete to change. I’m not the only person combing the beach that afternoon looking for who knows what. While I find nothing of real interest I do collect some small bright red clamshells to add to my collection of nautical mementos from places I have been - pebbles and shells or corals from around the world.

Off shore, small fishing boats lie quietly at anchor. The passing of larger deep sea fishing vessels and outer island ferries is announced by the sudden slapping on the sand of many small waves produced by their wakes making landfall. An upturned dinghy - her timber planks shrinking and her green paint peeling - lies rotting in the sun above the high water line. Another larger battle-scarred rusting hulk sits propped upright also rotting in the long grass above the beach, what’s left of her crisp white coat suggesting a more glorious past. In the background the bow of the museum thrusts proudly seaward - hard gray lines in concrete. I look back on this trio of silent stranded hulls – one of concrete, one of steel and one of timber – a fitting tribute to the sea faring history of this island.

The beach ends in a small headland. Rather than return along the beach I clamber up to the road following it further out around the coast but there is little to see. Unseen dogs bark at my approach before I turn walking back through the small village behind the museum. Flanking me on the right is the central forested peak of the island. The tree-lined street is cool but I stop to buy an icecream from one of the small poorly stocked local stores. I choose to skip the Jiawu Museum as I’ve gleaned enough information from the much smaller, free exhibition halls in the temple complex on the slope above the arrivals hall. I buy what turns out to be a very cheap string of black cultured pearls which last only a month before the silver wears off and the clap collapses. I dawdle past the elegant new hotel, the first on the island, browse through the souvenir shops and enjoy an ice-cold bottle of water and a snack while I rest in the breezeway of the buildings that house the cable car station.

Back on the mainland, I have a couple of hours to kill. While I find little of exceptional interest I am sure there are things to discover given more time. Today the city is booming – a manufacturing base for a cute little three-wheeled car, tyres, clothing and accessories, seafood and other food products and clocks, an industry that began more than a century ago. Another Shandong specialty is beer and Weihai is no exception being home to a joint venture with Korea’s Asahi brand and home to her own brew, Weihaiwei that proudly bears the city’s historic name. Weihai, fully recovered from her inglorious past is embracing her future with the same gusto and confidence that Ding Ruchang expressed during his days of glory.

Taishan: From Top To Bottom

I had stood on many summits before coming to China, and they were all, without exception, empty. There were trees, or rocks, or snow, or other people, or cairns and even the odd hungry goat, but nothing else.

Summits in China are not the same.

I’m used to this now and so it is no surprise to reach the summit of Taishan and find it laid out like a small town. With paved streets, shops, temples, restaurants and hotels. A part of me is always disarmed by this branch of civilisation that exists at the top of most mountains in China, but I can’t deny that it makes exploring a lot more interesting and provides welcome shelter and sustenance for the weary climber.

This winter’s evening, the summit is deserted. I walk over to the edge and can see nothing but a wall of cloud and fog as though someone is holding a sheet of grey paper before my eyes. I am disheartened at this “viewlessness”: one of the great pleasures of reaching the top of any mountain is being able to look down and survey the world at your feet. There is no chance of this for me.

The night is swooping down quickly to squeeze me against the summit and the cold is biting; I can see my breath and my camera’s zoom lens doesn’t want to work. Great swathes of white cloud keep dancing across the paths, hiding the summit from view and wrapping me up in misty arms, before releasing me again. A welcome hotel light shines out from the gloom and one of the staff calls to me: I accept their offer of a room for the night and step inside.
The Hotel: 南天门宾馆

The patron tells me that at this time of year there are few hotels open on the summit – there are few visitors. I can understand his Chinese and I accept a room for the night. He takes me to the room, it is a twin room, it is very big and freezing cold. I ask him if I can have a smaller room, but he tells me the smaller rooms have no heating. OK. I ask him about the heating and he tells me that it will be switched on automatically at 8pm and not before. I settle for the big room at 80RMB and some hot water, but the flask in my room is empty.

Outside the temperatures plummet to a low of -15°C. This doesn’t worry me, I have lived in the North East of China where it gets much colder than this – the difference, I will soon discover, is that they have heating!

I decide to eat dinner in the hotel’s restaurant. It is expensive, but then it is one of the only places serving food and it is at the top of a mountain. Food must be transported up, I concede, but still the price seems extravagantly high. I don’t think they are ripping me off, I can read the menu. Even the simplest of dishes: potato strips with green peppers, is 30RMB. I order the cheapest meat dish, a vegetable dish and a beer (SUPER expensive) and the bill is almost 100RMB. However, I am warm.... well, still wearing my winter coat and I have hot food, so I can’t really complain.

When it gets to 8.15pm and the heating is still not working, I phone the reception. They tell me if I want the heating on I must pay them an extra 40RMB – I am a little annoyed, asking them why they didn’t tell me this at the beginning (they don’t reply) and I decline on principal.

The room is freezing, the bed is freezing, the sheets are freezing, the floor is freezing, even in all my clothes and coat – I am freezing. I call them again, not 15 minutes later, and agree to pay them in exchange for some heat.

Even with the heating, which comes swiftly enough after I have agreed to pay for it, I remain cold for the entire night, sleeping and waking by turns into a room where I can still see my breath.

When I leave at 6.45am I pay my bill at the reception. It is a young guy who looks at my bill and asks me to pay 80RMB, this is the price of the room. I think about it for a moment – he hasn’t asked me for the extra money for the heating – I decide not to tell him.
The Sunrise

The morning is not looking promising. It is still dark and it has snowed overnight, the snow has been blown into drifts and hugs the steps and doorways with white hands. It is the fluffy stuff with the consistency of polystyrene – no hope of making snowballs.

Alone, I make my way to the “Sunrise Watching Peak” (日观峰). The cloud maintains its grip on the sky and it begins to snow with half-hearted flakes. It is so cold, even with my two pairs of socks and my thermals I can feel an iciness creeping into my feet. I stand watching for the sun amidst the silence of this wall of cloud.

A famous guide book says that 60,000 people were on the summit to watch the Labour Day sunrise in 2001.

I am alone, on January 26th 2007, when, like a pale coin released from the palm of the sky, the sun gleams for a few seconds.
Morning At The Summit

From this point onwards, the morning doesn’t stop. The sun appears increasingly and the cloud thins. Snow covers everything in a fine mesh. The trees are frosted and the cracks in every rock are filled with white lines of ice. The colour of the sky starts to shift, from grey to pale pink and finally – like a breath of fresh air – the blue arrives.

The impossibly bright patches of sky are dazzling against the lifting mists and the mountain is becoming visible. Pine trees step one by one into view, the pale blues and greens of the rocks and pine needles come out from hiding and the curves and valleys of Taishan reveal themselves.

The transformation is incredible.
A Circuit Of The Summit

I might be on a different mountain. The summit is huge, with room for a TV & weather station that sits in ugly prominence and a number of temples and towers scattered on the peaks above the “village”. The village is what I consider the circuit of streets, steps, shops and restaurants that huddle on the flatter part of the summit.

I stop at the bell tower and the monks, happy to see a foreigner, invite me to ring the bell for free. I accept and the sound looms over the mountain, 3 times. There are other temples: a simple one for Confucius and the more elaborate Azure Clouds Temple. Perched at the highest point of the summit is the impressive Jade Emperor Temple (玉皇顶) and at its front stands the famous “Wordless Monument”, a stele bearing no inscription that instead invites every climber’s imagination to describe the view.

I stumble by chance across the Immortal Bridge (仙人桥). Here, 3 large boulders have collapsed onto each other over a large ravine; they hang in the air creating a “bridge”, hence the name.

Exploring the summit is like being in a new world, it is fresh and clean and quiet and the cold is never-ending. After 2 hours, this early morning winter wonderland, beautiful as it is, leaves me aching and I drop into a small cafe to slurp a big bowl of steaming hot noodles and try to shake off the chill.
Going Down

It is time for me to leave, having explored the summit, and I decide on taking the West Route down to give me an alternative view of the mountain. I still must first negotiate the Path of Eighteen Bends, but the snow has been cleared from the steps by the fastidious sweepers and I make a swift and easy descent.

The blue sky has lifted my spirits enormously and Taishan has become the swan (not the ugly duckling of yesterday), all snow-dusted and glistening. With every step down I feel warmer, my feet and fingers thawing and I meet a few climbers now, the first of the days new arrivals. They look weary but I feel as light as a fairy, springing down the steps and admiring the mountain as I go.

Hawkers are abroad this morning selling small packets of Buddhas whose faces are fixed in a variety of grimaces. The price starts at 8RMB and I am not interested, but the hawkers get slim pickings these wintry days and when he drops the price to 2RMB I am as happy to buy them from him as he is to sell them.
The Western Route Down

The Western Route down begins at the Middle Gate (中天门) and descends in a mixture of pathways and road. Most visitors to Taishan will take the bus, but in winter there are only one or two buses a day and I decide to walk. Even with my map, I have big trouble locating the footpath and descend for the most part along the winding road. This turns out to be 15km long.

I have the road to myself for the majority of the journey and I do indeed see a different face to Taishan. This side of the mountain is steep and rocky and covered in deciduous trees that form a tangled blanket of leafless branches – it must be lushly green in the summer!

There are cows wandering the road and great rocky precipices that are obviously waterfalls in the summer, and must be very impressive. Now they are smooth slides and terraces of pale stone amidst the pines.

I pass Zhulin Temple (竹林寺), surrounded by bamboos, but it is closed.

Further down, I stop at a tiny hut that is perched on the side of the road. A cat, two dogs and a chicken are idling outside and an old woman smiles curiously at me. I buy a bottle of water and a packet of biscuits from her and sit down on a stool. The cat, who must be starving, comes and mews incessantly at my feet. I throw her a biscuit and she gobbles it up, I throw her another one– it is the only way to shut her up. I have a new best friend.
Back At The Bottom

It is perhaps 5 hours later and the town of Tai’an appears over the brick dam of a frozen reservoir and I know that I will soon leave Taishan. As usual, the city with its high rises and cranes, feels like an intrusion into the stillness of the mountain. There is a small village here and the road is busy with contrasts: 4-wheel drives swish by along with other locals carrying big plastic bottles full of water.

Looking back at Taishan for the last time I see this mountain as a great bulk of rock dressed in green rags. The sky is pale blue with whispers of white cloud. I imagine for a moment the story of creation where my trip to Taishan really started; and from the chaos of that cloudy box emerges a newborn mountain against a pristine sky.

I am a small traveller in this world, with neither fame, nor fortune, nor political destiny. I will leave no inscriptions to inspire generations, but I have told my tale here, these are my words for the “Wordless Monument” and so I leave my words, my name, my footprints, with all the others who have gone before.
Information (January 2007)

Taishan (泰山) is located in Shandong (山东) Province in the East of China. Tai’an (泰安) is the town at the foot of the mountain and the best place to base yourself to explore. The temperatures at the top of the mountain are VERY cold (-15°C even though at the bottom of the mountain it may be quite warm. Warm clothing, thermals, gloves, hats and scarves are essentials during the winter.

More Than A Bridge Over Water

The sun is rising like a rare ruby over the rooftops as a lone riverboat whispers around the corner of the canal. The water, tonguing the scarlet light of daybreak, swallows the boatman and his barge into a silent silhouette. The bleached bone-colored walls of the buildings blink into shadow before becoming highlighted by the glittering paladin growing in the sky.

There’s another couple standing on the bridge next to us, and down the lane the tender tinkling of wares as they’re set out on water-side tables, ready for breakfast-seekers. Other than that, it’s us, the sunrise, and the piquant beauty of a town that travelers, not tourists, know about.
A Living Fossil

In northeast Zhejiang Province, between the fabled jewels of the Yangtze--Hangzhou and Suzhou--lies a slender footprint of anthropological marvel: the town of Wuzhen. Bisected by China’s most ancient waterways, Wuzhen has been subsisting in the ebb and flow of this country’s turbulent history for more than 1,300 years.

In May 1999 the government pledged to invest 200 million RMB over five years for the maintenance and improvement of Wuzhen, considered one of China’s most delicate cultural fossils. A genuine deposit of life spouting forth from the lacework waterways of the Yangtze delta, Wuzhen is a town that has been preserved—not restored or dolled up for a role in a farcical play. It’s not so much a living museum as a time-capsule town of fish, rice, and silk where the Water Market weekly floats by and sells fruits, vegetables, meats, and goods from their trade boats into the villagers’ windows.
Knowing What to Look For

And though you may be trailed by ticket-checking security guards and can easily find the public toilets, the traditional lifestyle of Wuzhen is not just “put on”—it carries on in its time-worn way, the trace of an organism that stumbles along in its natural pattern in much the same way as the water that has slipped through the canalways for just as long.

Wuzhen’s fame reached our ears by accident, stumbled upon only via the documentations of travelers who had been there and done that. It’s not a place you can find on the internet unless you know what to look for, and I haven’t found report of it in any of the current printed guidebooks on China. However, if you do know what to look for, there is more than enough information on the web to get you geared up and pumped up to get there—which isn’t terribly convenient as its not a stop-over on the major Shanghai, Suzhou, Hangzhou tourist-triangle. Wuzhen even has its own gorgeous and amazingly user-friendly website which can be found at www.wuzhen.com.cn/oldweb/wuzhen.eng.
Not Knowing What to Expect

We got to Wuzhen from Suzhou via JiaXing. That is, from the main bus station in Suzhou we bought tickets to Jia Xing and didn’t listen to anyone when they told us there’s nothing worthwhile in JiaXing. An hour later, in the tiny bus depot, we bought tickets for Wuzhen, and then bumped through the countryside for another hour until we pulled up to the side of the road and were told to get off.

At first glance, Wuzhen doesn’t look like what you expect it to look like. That’s because twenty percent of the original town limits, and what’s grown up outside it, is the same as many of China’s small towns today: dull, lifeless apartment blocks and wide streets, as squared-off and box-like as the designers probably were who erected the buildings. But a five minute walk down each of the ‘modern’ section of the towns’ two thoroughfares and a bridge crossing later and suddenly you’ve dropped into another century. It’s almost depressing to look down and see that your clothes don’t match the delicately orchestrated opus of stone, wood, and tiles that knuckle up along the canals and covered passageways of Wuzhen.
Slow Opening

The 2-kilometer-long layout of the city is divided into 6 districts along an East-West-East circuit. The districts are dissected by waterways and demarcated by function: the Traditional Workshops District, the Traditional Culture District, the Traditional Food and Beverage district, the Traditional Shops and Stores District, the Traditional Local-Styled Dwelling Houses District, and the Water Township Customs and Life District. The majority of the buildings that have been preserved were constructed in the Ming and Qing dynasty.

Strolling through the narrow streets in the early light of morning, as people were just waking up (and brushing their teeth out of their windows), it felt as if doorways didn’t exist—just boarded up building fronts—which lent an echoing feel of abandonment to a period lost to time and modern living. But one by one slats of walls would be removed and put aside, and people’s doorways and shopfronts were revealed piecemeal, their smiles opening just as slowly but equally broad. It was beautiful.
Traditional Workshops District

And once the shops and doorways had all opened we could easily find which district we were in. The Traditional Workshops District was shop after shop of coppersmiths and woodcarvers, carpenters, shoe-makers, tobacconists, looms set to weaving and, across the street, the cloth-dyeing workshop. The area is famous for its indigo-dyed calico, which is fashioned into batiked goods like shoes, dresses, shirts, coats, trousers, headscarves, wall-hangings, bedspreads—practically anything you might be after. The finished textiles are then sold in the Traditional Shops and Stores District, along with many other goods that the town of Wuzhen has been fashioning for centuries.
Mouthful of Joy

In the Traditional Food and Beverage District you can find Wuzhen’s local dishes and snack foods (小吃) as well as tea houses to beat all tea houses. Late morning, as we strolled through the area taking note of food local to Wuzhen, I spotted some bright-green mounds resting in a bamboo basket beckoning to me through plumes of steam. I approached the little shop and asked what the little green balls were. Up close they were even more stunning, the most pure emerald-green color I’d seen. I couldn’t believe it was edible or that it would be delicious. I was expecting it to be a very local kind of dumpling made from very strange ingredients.

But I was wrong. They were pumpkin steamed glutinous rice dumplings with filling inside. Pumpkin is one of my favorite foods, especially the way the Chinese cook pumpkin, and I was overjoyed and asked for one. “Which filling would you like?” She asked me. I returned with “What fillings do you have?” and she rattled off a short list. But one filling stood out and I forgot the others “黑芝麻” (hei1zhi1ma0): black sesame. A pumpkin dumpling with black sesame filling? I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Two of my most favorite foods rolled into one delectable little steamed ball of deliciousness. I had never been so happy as I was strolling along those streets in the morning light with my pumpkin-black-sesame-dumpling in hand.
Time for Tea

Tea shops are also a specialty of the Traditional Food and Beverage District, and one Tea Shop in particular stands out in its fame. The Fanglu Pavilion Teahouse, south of the Ying Bridge, is said to be the best in Wuzhen. Legend has it that the owner and founder Lu Tong, as he was just beginning his business, ran into a spot of trouble with some poisonous tea leaves. Luckily Lu Yu, the infamous Tea Aficionado and author of the Cha Ching, the Tea Bible, was passing through Wuzhen. Lu Yu saw Lu Tong’s distress and taught him how to pick, make and serve tea so that it had the best flavor. Lu Tong’s Fanglu Pavilion Teahouse has been serving delicious tea in incomparable surroundings since.
Scholarly Endeavors

Another of Wuzhen’s claims to fame is its impressive list of scholars. In the twentieth century the contemporary writer Mao Dun, who wrote The Lin’s Shop, hailed from Wuzhen. In 1984, 20 years after his death, his childhood home was renovated and can be visited today. But what’s of more interest is the Mao Dun Museum, which used to be the famous Li Zhi Academy of Classical Learning. From the Song (960-1279) to the Qing (1644-1911) Dynasties Wuzhen produced more successful candidates in the highest Imperial Examinations than any other town south of the Yangtze. All the candidates attended this prestigious Academy to prepare for sitting the Exam.
Passing Time

As noon neared we sought out a place for a rest and a snack. Following the locals’ example we gathered around the town square. We sat on a bench along a covered promenade, looking over the square with the theatre-playhouse on one end and the Daoist temple on the other. As I peeled a Chinese Grapefruit as big and golden as the sun above us, I couldn’t help but think that the locals across from me, similarly perched along benches on the opposite promenade, looked like a flock of preening and roosting cranes: isolated in small groups, left to their private conversations, heads turning, observing—watching the world go by as the river below them coursed on.
Impressed

It’s no wonder that to know Wuzhen is to know its history and its industry. You can’t just see Wuzhen as a tourist would; you have to experience it and absorb it with a traveler’s mind. And if you’re lucky enough to catch the traditional Flower Drum Operas or Shadow Puppet Shows held in the community theatre you’ll see that the artistry of Wuzhen isn’t for amateurs. The internal aesthetic embedded into this charming town has honed masters of its many simple yet beautiful trades over the centuries, whether it’s breeding silkworms or raising chrysanthemums; constructing buildings or building bridges; maneuvering boats or putting on operas; writing fiction or studying the Classics; weaving fabric or carving wood. A day spent in Wuzhen is likely to be fossilized in your memory for time immemorial.
Information

Wuzhen is located in Northeastern Zhejiang Province, 17 kilometers north of TongXiang

Getting There by bus:
Suzhou to JiaXing 26RMB
JiaXing to Wuzhen 8RMB

There are several buses from the Wuzhen bus station to both Suzhou, Hangzhou, and other towns in the area.

In town it's best to walk, but they have convenient and cheap pedicabs as well

There are several hotels in the area, and you should negotiate a price. Ask a pedicab driver to take you to a cheap one and a few options should materialize

Tickets for the Ancient Town districts of Wuzhen are 100RMB--but worth it. Similar to Pingyao, the all-inclusive ticket will get you into every little mini museum and 'area' that would otherwise be restricted if you were just strolling the streets.

Some hoteliers will offer a room price with ticket price included, but this is not recommended as they won't actually give you a ticket and you won't be able to visit any of the places of interest. Negotiate the room separately and buy the ticket on your own.

 

Huanglong: The Hidden Jewel of Sichuan

A Holy Site

Laying almost directly in between the popular tourist destinations of Jiuzhaigou and Songpan, Huanglong National Park is a site that is often over looked by tourists. However, one will be hard pressed to find a natural site that matches Huanglong’s unique beauty. Here, the tourist blurbs aren’t lying when they proclaim Jiuzhaigou and Huanglong the world’s ‘Fairylands on Earth.’

Like Jiuzhaigou, Huanglong is the site of a rich history for the Tibetan and Qiang ethnic groups. With its otherworldly topography, Huanglong has served as an important religious site for the Tibetan people for centuries. Also calling the park home are the endangered giant panda and the golden snub-nosed monkey, although it’d be highly unlikely to spot one of these creatures in the wild.

Because of the valley’s relative isolated location and its importance in Tibetan religion, it has been spared the development and heavy tourism that have reached Jiuzhaigou. However, as the word spread about Huanglong’s natural beauty and the flux of tourism began to increase, in 1983 the park dedicated a World Heritage Site by the United Nations.
A Natural Wonder

Like it’s famous neighbor, Huanglong was formed by millions of years of glacial activity. It’s main valley snakes it’s way through the earth, creating the vision that has been likened to the tail of a dragon. The shimmering scales composing this natural wonder are in fact calcium carbonate and limestone deposits, which feed into a number of hot springs and waterfalls. However, if you arrive with your swimsuit you’ll be greatly disappointed: there’s nowhere to go for a soak. (Which probably is a good thing, as one can only imagine what a zoo that would make of the place!)

Aside from the park’s legendary multicolored pools, Huanglong can also boast a number of awesome waterfalls that should not be missed (Liantai waterfall is a must see.) Also en route are a number of Tibetan temples (you’re likely to share the trail with pilgrims), and, of course, the amazing Yuchuifen Shan (Yuchuifen Mountain.) All of the pools are concentrated along the main route, which peaks at 5,500 meters (and yes, the oxygen does get noticeably thinner up there!) There are too many pools to list, and each is unique in color and depth, ranging from an aqua blue to green, white and a number of shades of yellow. If you hike the trail both ways, or one-way at the least, there’s no way to miss any of the major pools; they’re all along the main path.
To Go Or Not To Go...

One of the only drawbacks of going to Huanglong is also one of its virtues: it’s relative inaccessibility. Now tell this to a Chinese tourist and they’re likely to disagree with you – vehemently. There is definitely not a shortage of Chinese tourists at the park. On the other hand, for a westerner it’s a bit of an ordeal to get there, but even more of an ordeal to leave.

Coming from Jiuzhaigou it was pretty straightforward to get to the park. A daily bus departs the main bus station at 7 am each morning. Leaving from Songpan is not so easy though, as I’ve heard from fellow travelers. There are no buses that go from Songpan to Huanglong, so it’s necessary to hire a taxi for the trip (about two hours one way.) If you’re able to share a taxi this isn’t such a bad option though.

The journey from Jiuzhaigou to Huanglong takes about two and a half to three hours, depending on the weather, and passes through beautiful scenery along the way. One of the first things you’re likely to notice when you arrive in the Huanglong ‘town’ is that there is a serious shortage of accommodation. In our case, we’d planned to arrive that morning, check out the town for the remainder of the day, then wake up the following morning to explore the park. We soon came to realize this plan was only feasible if one has about 600 Yuan to spend on a hotel room – at the least! There are only a few choices of hotels in the vicinity and these cater to the predominantly upper class tour group category. However the rooms did look very nice if you’re in the mood for a splurge! I’ve also heard reports of some basic lodging within the park (which would be a great experience), but I didn’t see any cabins myself.

If one wishes to visit the park in a day and thus bypass the expensive lodging in Huanglong town, then it seems the way to go (and this is what we did) is to get an early start, see the whole park in half a day (which isn’t hard to do) and then share a taxi to Songpan. The park itself isn’t difficult to traverse in a few hours since there is only one path to hike either way. If you happen to get a late start there is also a cable car that can take you half way up the mountain, although walking at least one direction is recommended if you really want to experience the beauty of the valley. If you’re feeling a little weary about the elevation gain, don’t despair: once you reach about half way up the mountain there are oxygen stations galore! (This also becomes quite a source of entertainment, as some hikers are a wee bit overly dramatic to say the least!)

Once you’ve seen the park and are ready to hit the road to Songpan (western food and cheap accommodation awaits!), the next step is to arrange for a decently priced taxi to make the journey. If your situation is anything like ours was, you’ll be exiting the park in the early evening, exhausted from a day of buses and hiking and will be ready to check into your hotel room. (Luckily, though, you’ll have been spared the nightmare of lugging your backpack around the park all day, as there is an awesome visitors’ center at the park’s entrance that will hold your luggage for free!)

In leaving Huanglong, the ideal situation would be to arrange for a shared taxi with other Songpan bound tourists. If this isn’t possible though, you’ll have to cover the fare on your own, and with it being a two hour ride you’re not likely to pay anything less then 230 Yuan. Believe me, we don’t have sucker written on our faces, and we bargained like madmen before we finally succumbed to paying the fee, but the truth is 1) no one is very eager to drive that far at the end of the day, and 2) all of the drivers know you have no other choice but to take one of their taxis to Songpan (or be stranded); thus bargaining isn’t much of an option.

Another thing to watch out for is the old ‘switch-a-roo’ that the cabbies might try to pull on you. We came to realize that most, or all, of the cabbies live outside of the park's entrance/exit live in the general vicinity of Huanglong and don’t want to drive as far as Songpan. Especially that late in the evening it simply doesn’t make economical sense for them to be driving all the way there. Therefore, they’ll negotiate a fare with you, drive you to the top of the hill (in heavy fog this can be an intense ride to say the least!), pull over to the side of the road and hand you off to a fellow driver who will then take you the final leg of the journey. If you’re tired and mildly depressed about the money you’re about to fork over for the ride, then this seemingly scamy maneuver might be enough to put you over the edge. After enduring a white knuckled ride through the fog, on the wrong side of the road, we thought we thought we were about to be deserted in the middle of nowhere or ridiculously bribed just to finish the rest of the trip, but alas the divers had it all worked out, so it was best just to relax and enjoy the ride.
The Journey is Half the Fun

While not entirely ‘off the beaten path’, Huanglong does take more effort to reach than the average tourist destination, especially if you’re a foreign tourist with limited Chinese capabilities! However, if you decide to visit the park you will not be disappointed. Having visited a number of mountains and natural sites in China, I would honestly have to say this is my favorite site yet. While it wouldn’t be fair to compare it to its ever-popular neighbor and visually unsurpassed neighbor, Huanglong holds it’s own in the contest of pristine natural beauty and simplicity. While attracting it’s fair share of visitors (we were almost pushed off the planks and into the pools on a number of occasions by the massive crowds!), it is able to remain a sort of hidden gem in this heavily touristed region of Northern Sichuan.

On a side note, another reason to visit Huanglong is it’s wonderful museum and visitors’ center (where you can stash your bags!) The designers of the museum have done a great job putting together a variety of informative and attractive displays on the histories of the various ethnic groups that inhabit the park. It’s a must see for anyone interested in the Qiang and Tibetan minorities.

 

Horse-trekking on Jade Dragon Snow Mountain

Getting there

It was early in the morning on my first on my first full day in Lijiang that I ran across a good-looking Naxi native woman, named He Xiao Wan. She couldn't speak any english, but my rudimentary Chinese sparked an interest in her eyes. She handed me a business card with a picture of a late-model car, telephone numbers and Chinese characters. She told me she was in the tour business and has access to a car to take me wherever. Honestly, I wasn't planning to go anywhere that day, but I asked her where I could buy a cup of coffee in old town Lijiang. She escourted me a a food vending booth and asked if I was hungry. Snce i was, I bought some coffee and a bowl of soup noodles. As I ate I practiced talking with her in chinese and her how nice looking that I thought she was. I also mentioned that I wanted to visit YuFeng Si (Jade Peak temple) to see the Wanduo Shancha (Camellia Tree of 10,000 Blossoms). No sooner had I done this Miss He was on her mobile phone calling to arrange a ride for me.

We walked through old town Lijiang, stock-filled with vending booths selling unique Chinese art, as the sun was just clearing the nearby mountain peaks for, what promised to be, a sunny, warm day. At the bottom of the hill there sat a old white van with a smiling Naxi man sitting in the driver's seat. Miss He introduced me to her brother as I climbed into van and tossed my daypack into the rear seat.
YuFeng Monastery

The van was an older rig, for the upscaled Lijiang viewscape. But it seemed sturdy enough to sit back and enjoy the ride out of Lijiang. Along the way, there were demolished buildings, parks with colorfully-dressed naxi women dancing and, of course, the serrated peaks of Yulong Xueshan looming n the distance. The Naxi siblings kept on talking to me in PuTongHua, like I was a local.

Unfortunately, I could only understand about one-tenth of what they were saying. But, they did keep pointing out horses and asking if I liked the QiMa (ride horses). Being a country folk from Idaho, of course I've spent many days out on the range in the saddle, I told them (wo cong xiangxia lai, dang ran keyi qimu!) of course, I liked riding horses!

The van pulled into a crowded parking lot below the gates to the monastery. I was surprised since it was early in the morning that there were so many tourists. But, hey, this is Lijiang and the vendors had their tables set up for another bustling day of business. The entrance fee to this monastery was 20 RMB and as I walked in the first thing that I noticed is that I was the only westerner in sight. Fragrant smells from potted shrubs (a type of gardenia) filled the air between the wafts of incense people burned as they entered. The incense sticks that they tried to sell me were HUGE! These things would burn for hours and were thicker than wedding cigars! I passed on buying the incense.

The monastery had many large, older trees throughout the grounds. One sign claimed that a large magnolia tree was more than 300 years old. There were many flowering plum, cherry and apple trees also planted there.

Yufeng monastery was built during the last years of the Qing dynasty regime of Kangxi. The main courtyardconsists of a hallway, a main hall as well as two other smaller courtyards. This kind of layout epitomised the typical architectural layout of a traditional Chinese courtyard. The main hallway faces the direction of the east and the entire roof is decorated. This is a classic example of the Qing dynasty's style of architecture layout of a traditional Chinese courtyard. On the rooftop of the monastery, there are wall paintings of the Buddha of "MiZong" Lama religion. In addition, pictures of the Buddha can be found in the main hall and on every pillar of the building. But the main attraction of this monastery is the Camellia tree of 10,000 Blossoms. while the number of blossoms may be a bit exaggerated, I was visiting this monastery during blooming season and eagerly anticipated viewing this sight.

After walking up a series of stairwells, Miss He and I entered into a sunny, opened courtyard where there stood the famous bush. Countless peoplewere there taking pictures of their family in front of this Camellia. So many people, that I decided that perhaps just a single bloom might make a better picture. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of flower blooms on this trellised, old plant, I walked behind the bush and took my photo of a single bloom with the blue sky and bright sunlight behind.
Unexpected surprise

The courtyards of WuFeng Monastery were very attractive and fragrant. Afterhaving viewed the camellia of 10,000 blooms, Miss He and i went back to the van. The driver spoke some unintelligeble Chinese and the next thing I knew we were headed up YuLong Xueshan, instead of back into town. I was enjoying the ride and we passed many panamoric sights along the way. When the van stopped, I could tell that we were at a truly Chinese tourist destination. When we walked into the main building, there were pictures of horses, the mountain and horses on the mountain. This could mean only one thing.....this place offered guided horse-treeking trips up Jade Dragon Snow Mountain! I listened intently as the tour planner pointed at various routes available on a map drawing on the wall. I could understand here when she mentioned fees for the different lengths of treks, but didn't understand much else. Since I was on a paid vacation, I decided that I wanted to spend the whole day horseback riding, so I purchased the 300 RMB package.

Miss He, however, wasn't going to go with me on the ride. Since I had checked out of a guesthouse in old town, I had a 30-pound daypack that I didn't want to carry up the mountain with me. So, I had to make a fast decision. Should I trust 2 Naxi people to keep my daypack (with passport, money and other valuables) in their van,or should I take it with me on the trek? I told them that I trusted them as I would my friends and opted to leave my valuables in the van.
Then I walked back tothe stables and the Naxi already had a horse and a guide picked out for me to ride. The horse looked somewhat frail and small, but it was equipped with a comfortable saddle, bridle and stirrups. The guide, a 56-year old Naxi man also named He, looked at me enthusiastically with encouragement. At this point, I didn't know what to expect,was he going to ride along with me, or was he going to walk all the way up the mountain with the horse harness in hand?
Up the mountain

Traveling independently in a foreign-speaking country has risks, as well as rewards waiting for every traveler. I didn't plan go on a horse-trek when i arrived in Lijiang. But as Lao Tzu would say, " A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving", I decided to "throw caution to the wind" this day and just do it. I wound up having 2 other Chinese riders, with their guides, join us for the trek.
Aswe wound up the mountain, the valley of Lijiang became more and more distant.

Flowering shrubs, piles of rocks and the dirt trail were all around. As we climbed, more and more pine trees were visible, then further on, fir and spruce trees. My horse seemed to clamour along lazily at the outset, but when we got to s teeper, rougher terrain, this horse showed tremendous agility and endurance. It would even gallop if the guide gave it the right signal. My guide, it turned out was partially deaf. He would communicate with the horse in grunting and wailing sounds, and the horse semmed to understand this.

After about 2 hours of climbing, we came upon an old wooden building sitting in a clearing. Inside of this building, there were cooks sitting around a barbeque and a pantry. Although unlit, the smells from the barbeque started to make me hungry as a woman offered me a cup of green tea. It turned out there were about 6 riders and 8 or 9 guides for the lunch this day. We were served BBQ beef, corn-on-the-cob, potatoes and tea. A simple banquet, but I was pleasantly surprised with their rustic hosting. Also, thank goodness, plenty of hot, clean water.

Mid-day was upon us, as we mounted the horses and continued to ascend. Remnants of snow and ice became visible as the trail became much steeper. There were parts of the trail so steep that we had to dismount and walk up the mountain with our guides. Although I couldn't identify many plants in this terrain, I did not several sprouting rhododendrons and wild peach bushes, blooming in brilliant pink. After a steep climb, we entered into a rocky meadow. Here my guide handed me the reigns to the hoses, shouted something in Naxi. or mountain guide talk, and this frail, little horse was off to the races! It galloped furiously through the meadow and I had to hold onto the reigns tightly. When I pulled back on the reigns, it just continued to run. I was a little frightened. Finally, after tugging hard on the ropes, the horse came to a halt. I was impressed that this horse could run so swiftly after such a climb!

After another ascent, we entered into a smaller meadow that had a smaller wooden building on the flanks. Although the trail continue beyond the building, I knew that this was as high up as we were going. The trail beyond the meadow was simply too steep to ride any further. If a person wanted to climb to the summit, I am sure that this was the direction to go. All around us were jagged precipes of rocks. The air temperature was much cooler and the wind much stiffer. The horse were allowed to rest while the riders took pictures and scampered up the mountain. I rested beside a rock and talked with some Naxi guides the best that I could. It seemed that they wanted to trade me some clothing for my black pearl bracelet. I told them that the bracelet was a special gift and I wouldn't part with it. They looked at it with amazement. Maybe they had never seen authentic black pearls, shimmering with blue and green colors, ever before. After resting, the temperatures seemed to drop and I was ready for the descent.
Arriving back at the van

The descent back down Jade Dragon Snow Mountain was very eventful. My horse, it appeared, was eager to get back to his personal stable. He descended much faster than the other horses. Along the way, another guide in front of us twisted his ankle and had to sit down for awhile. Further down the mountain, he reappeared, limping briskly, to again handle the reigns. I felt sorry for him because he was obviously in a lot of pain. I told him that he could ride my horse back and that I would walk. But he refused. This reinforced my feelings that these Naxi mountain guides are tough people. My guide, Mr. He, smoked cigarettes and was 56 years old. I wondered how long that he has been leading trips up the mountain....

I tried calling Miss He, to let her know that we would be back down the mountain sooner than I expected. But, her mobile phone was turned off. I started to wonder if maybe I wouldn't see them again. I had left my passport, several thousand RMB and other personal valuables in the van with her and her brother. This was a true test on the honesty and integrity of the Naxi people. Should I have done this? No! Would I have done this back in my home country, the U.S.A.? No.

So, I was a little concerned by my own lack of planning at this stage. My guide and I broke off from the other riders near the bottom. Mr. He wanted to show me his home. When we arrive there, it was an older Naxi brick and mud stucture. Mr. He lived in a one-room sleeping house. He unsaddled the horse, gave it fresh straw and water and showed me around his dwelling. It had good, clean running water, but very few appliances. It was modest, at best, and I could easily tell that my guide was a simple peasant. But I also know that he is an excellent horseman andguide. Next, we walked back to the parking lot and the white van, with Miss He was parked there. I said hello and then glanced in the rear seat for my pack. Hallelujah!! It was there! So, I thought, a fitting end to another day of adventure and unexpected surprises in China! That's when I had the driver take the final photograph.

Lijiang is a very commercial city, hosting thousands of visitors a day. While money seems to be the standard of value everywhere these days, it was good to have met and gotten to know some of the Naxi folks of Lijiang. I believe that they are good, upright people and they proved it to me on this day. Miss He and i never got back together during my remaining 4 days in Lijiang.

Tales of Dragons & Waterfalls

The Hidden Dragon Waterfalls (藏龙百瀑) are located deep inside Tianmushan (天目山), a range of mountainous hills in the far south of Anji County, Zhejiang Province. Covering an area of 3 square kilometres, the scenic area climbs into a natural gully, following the rocky watercourse that creates many waterfalls, before emerging out onto the top of the mountain with spectacular views. The area is visited primarily for its natural beauty: the bamboo woodlands, abundant waterfalls and rocky gorge.

It is a “public bus to nowhere – followed by a long wait for a minibus” journey to the waterfalls, typical of less travelled routes in China. The second half of the journey in the minibus takes a climbing, winding road that follows the curves of a narrow river, one of the tributaries of the Huangpu River that flows into Shanghai. The towering hills on either side are bursting with bamboos, their delicate green leaves are glinting slithers of precious metals under the strong sun.

At one point the bus passes a large dam that is actually a part of China’s second largest hydroelectric power station after the Three Gorges Dam. Tianhuangping Pumped Storage Hydro Plant is a tourist attraction in its own right, particularly its two gigantic reservoirs, nestled in the mountains, which can each hold 8 million cubic metres of water.

The road continues through the mountains, literally, and a couple of long tunnels later and it deposits me in a tiny town that has sprung up around the waterfalls. Numerous large coaches edge the road and the restaurants and stores are doing good business. As the mid-morning sun beams hotly down I buy my ticket, already looking forward to this shady retreat of cool waterfalls and bamboo glades.

[Image: mountain & river scenery on the way to the waterfalls]
Hidden Dragons

The dragon has always been a powerful symbol in Chinese culture. Unlike the Western dragon that breathes fire, the Chinese dragon is associated with water. Large bodies of water particularly, great lakes, seas or oceans are ruled over by dragon kings. Likewise, on a smaller scale, waterfalls are often seen as embodying the dragon and it is not difficult to see why. The Chinese dragon is snake-like in body and usually depicted in art with flowing curves not dissimilar in form to the way waterfalls weave and throw themselves between rocks. Much as you might turn your eyes to the sky and see a face in the clouds or imagine the head of an eagle jutting from an angular cliff face, so can you watch the shape of water across rocks and perhaps glimpse a Chinese dragon hidden beneath its writhing path.

The majority of the numerous waterfalls here are therefore named after dragons in various poses depending upon the unique shapes created by the different combinations of water and rock: Diving Dragon Waterfall (潜龙瀑) and Veiled Dragon Waterfall (龙纱瀑) are just two examples.

The path alongside the waterfalls climbs steadily, not steep so much as relentless, but fortunately there are plenty of seats and stopping places along the way. Every bout of climbing, whether it be up stone, wood or metal staircases, is accompanied by waterfalls gushing effortlessly downhill. Overhead are the pleasant canopies of magnolia, robinia and other broad-leaved trees, pines and bamboos. It is as tranquil and cooling a place as I could hope to be in; the shade deep enough to allow emerald green mosses to smother the rocks and ferns to safely unfurl their fronds. Tiny metal-gold lizards dash across my path from time to time disappearing into the undergrowth.

Without the shade, the climb would be excruciating. As it is, the summer sun is heating the air and I think I might start steaming as a laser beam of light touches my sweating skin. I take a break at one of the many “shops” set up, willy-nilly, by enterprising locals in any spare space they can find – they are selling tea and cold drinks, ice-cream, tofu and bamboo shoots. The bamboo shoots are crunchy, a little salty and pretty good!

[Image: diving dragon waterfall]
The Fairy Bridge (仙人桥)

Moving onwards and I find a waterfall that passes a particularly narrow part of the gully, where the rock faces are just a few metres apart. A boulder has fallen at some time, neatly bridging the gap between the rocks creating a picturesque fall called The Fairy Bridge.

A local legend tells of a young, industrious man who lived on the East side of a mountain. On the West face of a nearby mountain lived a beautiful woman. There was a gulf between the two mountains that could not be bridged and so the man and the woman could only gaze at each other from afar. Watching each other live and work, day by day, they fell in love but would never be able to meet.

The mountains themselves were roused to sympathy and told the Jade Emperor of the plight of the couple. Being moved by their stories, the Emperor sent one of his Gods called Dalishen (大力神) to help them. Dalishen is known for his great physical strength (a Chinese Hercules in effect) and he lifted a huge boulder from the valley and used it to form a bridge between the two mountains. Thus, the couple finally met, married and could live happily ever after.

[Image: the fairy bridge]
The Rainbow Above The Dragon Gate (虹贯龙门)

Further into the climb and I reach an open clearing where a sheer wall of stone crosses the gully. The water runs like a curtain down the rock before dashing itself on the boulders clustered below.

A legend tells of a place far, far away where two mountain peaks stood close together, joined by a great body of rock. They were actually two great gates called the Dragon Gates (龙门). Behind these gates lay a horde of gold and jewels unlike any in the world for this was where the Dragon Kings hid their treasure. The gates only opened once in every 5000 years and anyone lucky enough to be there when they did would inherit a fortune beyond imagining.

A waterfall was said to cover the gates from view, keeping them hidden for all time. There was one clue to the whereabouts of the gates however and that was that when the sun shone brightly, the light caught in the millions of drops of water and created a huge rainbow that marked the opening.

[Image: rainbow above the dragon gate]
The “Long Dragon Flying” Waterfall (长龙飞瀑)

Two thirds of the walk in and I come upon the grandest of the waterfalls that stands some 60 metres in height. A wooden swing bridge crosses in front of the fall, allowing me to get close enough to feel the spray, delicious on my skin. The waterfall, it is told, is a dragon being born and the dull grumbling of the water is the birth cry of the baby dragon, echoing through the rocks.

Further still and I take a rest by the edge of the Hidden Dragon Pond. A dam controls the water that enters the pond in a narrow stream and creates a deep, dark pool to reflect the sky. There is a dragon hiding in this pond, cool and slumbering beneath the murky depths. When the sluice is opened and the water allowed to escape, the dragon is roused, churning the water and crying out in great indignant mouthfuls of bubbles that rise to the surface in silence and pop.

[Image: long dragon flying]
The Summit

Your legs may start protesting, but it really is worth making the effort and climbing all the way to the summit of the mountain. Beyond the last of the waterfalls is a long steep stone stairway leading through a bamboo forest. This is one of my favourite parts of the climb, as the bamboos murmur overhead and their leaves fall incessantly. I feel like I am in a snowstorm of long silver feathers.

The steps continue upwards and out into a village where a giant gingko tree sits, its trunk fat and old and its branches zigzagging outwards, dark as lightning.

A little further and I find a road. Uncertain of which way to go I ask a local who points me upwards yet again. I follow the road a few hundred metres and come to a path that leads through a magnificent bamboo glade. The bamboos sway in elegant dance, metres of curved dusty-green poles bending to the music of the breeze, their leaves gleaming golden in the sunlight. I stroll through this undulating grove, my neck aching from staring upwards at the towering forms and finally arrive at the end of the path.

There’s nowhere left to go now but onto a large concrete platform that has been built, rising out and over the edge of the mountain. A small restaurant is housed here and a roof covers the length of it keeping off the intensity of the sun. I walk to the end and look out. The view is breathtaking, the village where I started my climb is a long narrow strip of red-roofed dolls houses and the landscape is nothing but green, dark pines and pale bamboos scattered in patterns across the sharp triangles of the mountains.

My knees feel weak from all the steps I have climbed and I know I have to walk all the way back down again...still I linger here caught by the simple beauty of height and land and I stay here for what seems like a long, long time

My travel Blog

Where the Sun sets across the Sea

The large orange fiery ball slips into the sea. The sun is setting and her golden rays paint the beach in myriad shades of gold. I’ve stood watching the sunset over Golden Beach many times before but seldom have I seen the sun set into the sea like this. Today I am standing on Yantai’s Golden Beach, the namesake of one of my favourite sailing spots back home. This is a rare experience for me having lived all my life on the eastern seaboard where the sun always rises from the sea and sets over the land. Back on my beach I’d be watching the sun slip for cover behind a group of volcanic plugs that the British explorer Captain Cook nostalgically named the ‘Glasshouse Mountains’.

Today’s late afternoon sunlight is reflecting off another mountain of glass – the green mirror glazed façade of the only high-rise building on this beach – right on the waters edge to the east. Empty and unfinished, it contrasts sharply with the traditional style brick and tile building a few hundred meters away. The setting sun casts long shadows down the beach. A stiff offshore breeze is whipping up white caps on the small sloppy swell rolling in. Buoyed safety ropes, encrusted with barnacles, are snapping in and out with the ebb and flow of every wave threatening to knock the unwary off their feet.

Just a few brave the water even on this warm afternoon, bobbing in bright plastic safety rings over the broken crests of waves. It’s relatively quiet for summertime, much quieter than the inner city beaches. Children play in the sand a safe distance from the waters edge. Adults sit watching them, soaking up the last warmth of the day’s sun. Couples stroll, cameras at the ready, skipping sideways now and then to avoid getting wet. The sudden rogue waves catch those slow to move – water slaps on bare skin and splashes rolled up trousers.

In this well laid out district of Kai Fa Qu (New Economic Zone) all the streets are broad and straight and lined with subtropical flowering trees and palms. Three wheel ‘san lun che’ the little pedicabs, with open sides and canvas roof, ply the streets, bells ringing, from the main thoroughfare to the beach for just a few kuai each way. I arrive just after lunch both hot and tired not having slept well on the night train. After a short rest I take a stroll down to the beach to catch the sunset and wade at the waters edge for the first time in months. The sea and sky are still a fuzzy blur on the horizon, obscured by low cloud and fog that will not clear for another day but the breeze blowing in off the sea is refreshingly cool and familiar.

I am staying at the only youth hostel in Yantai, barely two hundred meters from the beach. While not your average youth hostel it is however clean, comfortable and cheap. During my stay I have my three-bed ensuited dorm room to myself much of time. Although more than 30 minutes by bus from downtown, Golden Beach is an ideal retreat. It’s quiet here with few other guests. After a hot summer teaching and traveling around China, I’ve come to Shandong to enjoy the slower pace and ocean breezes of her seaside cities.

If you’re looking for long romantic walks on the beach? You can take them here! If you’re looking for peace and solitude? You can find it here! If you’re looking for great wining and dining? You’ll experience it here! If you’re looking for fun in the sun? You can have that too! You can do almost anything or absolutely nothing, as I am to find out in the days that follow.

Golden Beach is the ultimate amusement park, with something for everyone. If you forget your swimsuit you’ll not likely find what you like, but you will find something suitable to wear. Kiosks with changing booths sell not only swimwear for men and women; but they hire out swimming floats, deckchairs, umbrellas and tent like huts. If sun baking, swimming, and surfing are not your pleasure then don’t despair. There’s volleyball, soccer, dune buggies, kite flying, dodgem cars, a waterslide, and even an outdoor cinema with a wading pool. And if that’s not enough there’s a dirge of seafood dining options all along the beachside boulevard.

As the sun sinks in the late afternoons, barbeques are fired up, kegs of cold local beer are tapped and tables are set in anticipation of the arrival of hordes of hungry tourists in search of tasty seafood delicacies. At the end of a warm day, dining outdoors in the balmy night air is popular with locals and visitors alike. Parallel to the beach runs a broad boulevard dividing these commercial properties from the salty, sandy, seaside variety. With a wide green belt buffering this coastal strip for several kilometers separating Kai Fa Qu (New Economic District) from the beach you can easily forget where you are.

While Yantai’s beaches are definitely not in the same class as those of Hainan they manage to attract their share of both domestic and overseas tourists. Soviet ‘snowbirds’ find the empty beaches, warm water, mild climate, sumptuous seafood, exotic shopping and low prices very appealing and account for the bulk of the non-oriental tourists in town. The recently upgraded Golden Beach Hotel across the street from the hostel is a popular haunt with the Russians. A variety of restaurants both on and near the beach offer visitors a brief taste of China’s vast gastronomic delights with dishes from around the country all washed down with a great choice of local, national or international beers.

With Korea just across the Huang Hai it’s not surprising to find Korean nationals doing business or working here too. Bilingual signs in Korean, not English are testimony of the size and importance of this large community throughout the Shandong peninsular. Many have been here for generations and appear to blend seamlessly into the local community. In my search for food I discover a little bakery near the hostel where I get a great cup of coffee, delicious pastries and wonderful French bread sticks. The proprietor is Korean and speaks surprisingly good English too. Business is brisk with most of her customers buying much more than one piece of a delicious range of pastries and breads.

Finally the air clears revealing the sky, clear blue, clean and fresh. The horizon splits the sea and sky, the colour of the sea a deep reflection of the blue sky above. Small islands and headlands now give definition to this picturesque and sometimes rugged coastline. The sea breeze is cool and refreshing, the beer cold and drinkable, and the seafood bountiful. But the sea remains mostly uninviting and I surprise myself by not swimming even once. Where I can I don’t want to and when I want to I cannot. However I do enjoy just being at the beach with its mild weather and beautiful clear skies and I can’t get enough of just looking at the water.

Each day I get up a little late. I’m on a holiday after all. Each day I make day trips to explore downtown Yantai or to other nearby attractions returning each evening often after dark. Each evening I take a small table in the hostel’s beer garden. Each evening I sit alone at my table with my one yuan mug of cold local draft beer and a snack watching the big screen TV. The hostel is showing repeat episodes of a soap opera. I am getting hooked. Each evening the volume is too loud but I stay and listen anyway. Each evening construction workers on a nearby site, living in the shell of the building next door relax on the stairs along the driveway enjoying this free outdoor cinema. Each evening one or two of them buy a beer and something simple from the barbeque.

Each evening the sun sets across the sea. Each evening I am eaten alive by mosquitoes but I linger in the company of strangers in the cool night air. While the sun sets on my last evening here and my thoughts turn to work, I wonder when I will see another sunset like these - a blaze of orange across the sea.

My travel Blog

Travelling in My Favorite City

Though there are many beautiful and interesting cities across the expansive land of China, Qingdao with its unique blending of East and West is probably my favorite. Graced by timeless European architecture and modern Chinese charm, both the city and the people who live there exemplify an eclectic mix that makes visitors from all over the world feel welcome. The name Qingdao literally means “Green Island” and its attractive urban landscape is enhanced by the deep natural blues of the sea and the rolling green mountains along the coastline.

Located at the southern tip of Shandong Province facing the Yellow Sea, this key economic center serves as a vital Chinese port for foreign trade with its year round ice-free harbor. A small fishing village centuries ago, it has since grown to encompass a teeming population of 2.5 million residents in this popular summer resort and tourist city. Like many visitors who come to Qingdao, I arrived by train and was pleasantly amazed as I first stepped out into the large waiting hall of the distinctive looking train station. The Qingdao Railway Station is built in a European style with an eye catching octagonal belfry roof housing four giant bells. Transportation to Qingdao is quick and convenient since the opening of the Qingdao-Beijing bullet train in April 2007 that whisks passengers to and from the capital city in under seven hours. The high speed train route also links five other major cities with Qingdao including Shanghai and Wuhan to the south, and Shenyang, Changchun, and Harbin in the north. Walking outside onto the large paved courtyard surrounding the train station, I could immediately see the European influence in buildings all around the city center. This historic center exhibits the architecture of the old colonial district reflecting its title of “Bavaria on the East China Sea”. Though the downtown area is filled with European facades, it still maintains its own special Chinese character where peaked buildings display large Chinese signs across the store fronts. Much of the cities uniqueness can be attributed to a brief seventeen year colonial period as a German concession from 1897-1914. After Japanese invaders were forced out, it reverted to Chinese rule in 1922. The local people are immensely proud of the unique ambience of their city even though it stems from what most would consider a historic period of humiliation.

Sights and Sounds in the City

While exploring the sights and back alleyways on my own, I found Qingdao to be an extraordinary Chinese city with a very pleasant climate, mild temperatures and distinct yearly seasons. The major industries are trade, light industry, tourism, and oceanographic research. There is a very good public transportation system which makes it simple to get around the city and its outskirts. Long term bus passes are available for those who are staying for any length of time. Close to the railway station at the end of Zhongshan Road is Zhanqiao Bridge. This long pier was built in 1891 as a symbol and landmark of the city. It stretches a full 440 meters into the sea and provides a wonderful place to walk out and experience a sense of harmonious coexistence between man and nature through the ebbing tides, steady winds and endless sea. A short distance inland stand two large Christian churches which display completely different architectural styles. Qingdao Protestant Church was built in 1910 and is situated on a slight hill across from Xinhaoshan Park. The large clock and bell tower stands an impressive 39 meters high. With its thick yellow walls, inlaid granite stones, and a massive square shape, the church resembles an ancient German castle. The Catholic Church, St Michael’s Cathedral built in 1934, is more gothic looking with two large stately domes stretching up toward the heavens. Inside I was impressed by the beautiful, large, stained glass rosette in the front of the church and many colorful religious frescoes posted all around the side walls. East of the Catholic Church, the old German Governors Residence is a luxurious garden villa on the south side of Xinhao Hill which now serves as a guesthouse. Food being never far from my thoughts, I made my way to Zhongyuan Gourmet Street to try out some local shellfish specialties like fried clams, scallops and small squid roasted on a stick all available for a very good price. The busy Longshan market is also nearby, packed with vendors selling fresh fish, fruit, vegetables, and many kinds of different spices. Zhongshan Park in the center of the city is quite large and well laid-out built around Taiping Hill. It is a nice quiet park with pagodas, reflecting pools and elaborate Buddhist temples located right on the grounds. Qingdao Aquarium is a popular stopping place for families with children, while the Navy Museum outlines the history of the Chinese navy, important sea battles, and displays warship models for maritime buffs. Each of these sights is accompanied by beautiful ocean views across the large red boulders and traditional Chinese buildings set along the cliffs.

Leaving the downtown area behind it is a somewhat long but pleasant walk along the coast to Badaguan Scenic Area where eight streets are named after great military forts of ancient times. Here classic European houses built before WWI are nestled along the quiet streets displaying large grassy lawns, wide boulevards, luscious pine trees and very little traffic. The European style red roofed houses and classic German architecture gave me the impression of having just stepped into the fairy-tale land of Hansel and Gretel. The mansion-like homes with their many windows are constructed of brick and stone including traditional German fachwerk to add tasteful decoration. The well-manicured green lawns with flat stone paths running through the gardens add a tidy and classy appearance.

The government has been working hard to introduce a series of city-wide improvements in preparation for hosting the sailing events of the 29th Summer Olympic Games in 2008. Much urban planning has gone into transforming the “Green Island” into a “Green City” by significantly improving the ecological environment. Shanty towns have virtually disappeared and new buildings are being designed to promote renewable energy. The use of solar hot water and power systems in homes and businesses has been increasing at a rate of 15% each year. Wind generators power the city street lights while seawater pumps and biomass gasification are used extensively. A major environmental cleanup of the harbor to get rid of the filthy, polluted water was undertaken before building the huge new state of the art International Olympic Sailing Center which looks out onto the dark emerald blue waters of Fushan Bay. Since the Watersport Center’s christening in 2006 a number of regatta events have been successfully undertaken to demonstrate to the world that the sailing facilities in Qingdao are among the best in Asia.

Watersports are not limited to sailing and there are several good options whenever you are ready to have a swim in the sea. South of Zhongshan Park the Number One Bathing Beach is located conveniently close to Huiquan Dynasty Hotel. The Number Two Beach lies along a long beautiful curved coastline just on the other side of a small peninsula that juts into the Bay. Shilaoren National Holiday Resort is probably the most impressive tourist beach and was named after a prominent rock outcropping that resembles an old fisherman waiting for his daughter to return from the sea. With a nice boardwalk, picnic tables, chairs, showers, and rental equipment like jet skis and boogie boards, it is a popular place to get away for a day. Overall, the beaches are quite clean and lie on a gentle slope with clear water and soft sand, making them ideal for swimming. I also enjoyed the eye-catching statues of playful dolphins and other sculptures that can be found throughout the beach parks. Though a somewhat large city, Qingdao maintains a small town atmosphere and it is always possible to find a sandy spot or rock where you can be alone to enjoy breathing in the fresh sea air. A good way to spend a free evening refreshed by a gentle sea breeze is to watch the street artists drawing portraits of children in the parks while families take leisurely strolls together. As darkness descends the modern skyline twinkles from countless lights reflecting off the sea.

Special Places and Events

A good time to visit the city for those who enjoy parties is near the end of August when a raucous celebration with carnivals, concerts and ear splitting karaoke contests are held during the Annual International Beer Festival. The Tsingdao Brewery was established in 1903 to satiate the tastes of the German colonizers living far from their homeland. Since then it has acquired a world-wide reputation with the brew being exported to many countries around the globe. Other places of interest include the Eastern Tourist Area which has modern high rise buildings, huge shopping centers, and picturesque sculpture gardens with statues of people in traditional poses. Wusi Square with its large modern statue display of red interlocking rings is an interesting sight along with Ocean Park and the International Convention Center.

Thirty kilometers east of town, Lao Shan Natural Scenic Area is laid out around a famous religious coastal mountain with steep granite peaks. Climbing the tall and majestic Lao Shan with its beautiful views is an experience that should not be missed. At 1,133 meters Laoshan is known as the birthplace of Taoism and once housed a thousand Taoist priests and nuns within the monasteries that still dot the mountain slopes. Taiqing Palace is the oldest and largest remaining structure built around 1000 AD in a simple architectural style. There are many well-marked trails, and hiking around the large smooth piles of white stones to view fresh waterfalls dropping into clear pools is a memorable sight. The drive between the mountain and the city follows a good road along the rocky and hilly seaside where small waves gently lap the shoreline. Often groups of fishermen and workers can be seen harvesting small sea creatures or cleaning their nets with fishing boats anchored offshore in the background.

Qingdao is a remarkable city both due to the contributions of foreign occupation and the natural beauty of its seaside. I believe a visit to the “Green Island” before, during, or after the 2008 Olympics is a worthwhile trip for anyone.

My travel Blog