Xi’an, the Terracotta Army and Lots of Food

While my days in Xi’an were relatively lazy, I did do a number of interesting things. Not least among these was my visit to the Terracotta Army. Getting to the museum was easy: I merely had to get the 603 bus followed by the 306, totalling 8 yuan, which is less than a pound. Finding the entrance however, was more challenging. The exit and entrance to the museum were at opposite ends, so by the time I found a sign to the museum, having to wade through the crowds of the adjacent restaurant and souvenir shop area, it led me to the exit rather than the entrance. After walking all the way back down the side, I eventually found the entrance I made my way in. Sadly my student card did not seem to apply here and I had to pay the full 150 yuan (£17).

Pit 1 at the Terracotta Army Museum.

Personally I found that while impressive in age and history, the warriors were a little disappointing with all three pits still in the process of being excavated and the lines note that straight. There was also little signage, although I will give credit where it is due and admit I was impressed that, with the exception of the artefacts in the bronze exhibition, all Chinese information boards had a English counterpart. I suspect the limited signs was to try and keep traffic flowing in the big hangers (the air con makes it tempting to linger even with the crowds) and to encourage people to hire tour guides. At 200 yuan (£23) for a guide this would be reasonable if one was in a group but is rather steep when one is alone and as such, was an experience I opted out of. This also meant I could see the museum at my own speed instead of rushing from one spot to the next so worked well for me.

Posters by visitors from around the world in the hostel.

Something I would have really liked an explanation on though was why there was an exhibit all about Pompeii in the exhibition hall. I wrapped up my visit to the museum in the food street with the most amazing cumin meat skewers ever. While they were more expensive than the ones in Xi’an, three for 10 yuan instead of one for 1 yuan, they were absolutely amazing and definitely worth the extra, unlike the one for 10 yuan in the Muslim Quarter which were mostly just fat and gristle on a thick fancy looking stick to make people more inclined to pay.

The Drum Tower, as seen from the Bell Tower.

The next day I relaxed in the morning, making a Guernsey poster to add to the hostel’s collection and chatted with an Australian family before spending the afternoon sightseeing with them. This was an excellent pairing because it was my third day in Xi’an so I had a good idea of where to visit and one of the daughters and her friend both spoke Mandarin so were able to negotiate and ask directions for us. Our first stops were the Bell Tower and its counterpart the Drum Tower. These offered impressive views out over the centre of Xi’an and included a live Chinese music presentation in the Drum Tower. I was particularly amused by the combination of traditional Chinese dress and bright white fashion trainers that the lead drummer was wearing.

Traditional performance in the Drum Tower.

From the drum tower we ventured further into the Muslim Quarter towards the Great Mosque. This took a while as we walked through a winding market and it was very easy to get sidetracked by the multitude of souvenirs on offer. When we reached the mosque, we had a peak through the main door but since the majority of what we could see was scaffolding, we decided to forgo paying the entrance fee and looking around.

Oddly enough there are lots of drums at the Drum Tower.

Instead we walked down the main food street of the Muslim Quarter, enjoying watching the pounding of some kind of cake or sweet that looked a little like fudge and a lady who was pulling noodles before throwing them into her huge pot of boiling water. We eventually settled on buying some flat bread for the next day and a pulled lamb Chinese style burger which was absolutely delicious.

Noodle pulling in the Muslim Quarter.

After refreshing ourselves at the hostel we set out again in the evening to cycle around the city wall. This was a lot of fun and it was great to see the city all lit up in the night. We had probably left this trip a little too late in the day as we spent more time cycling in the dark than in the light but honestly I don’t think this was such a bad thing as it was considerably cooler than cycling under the pounding heat of the sun.

The crowds in the Muslim Quarter. It gets even busier in the evening.

The next day we had planned to head up Huashan Mountain together but between getting the wrong train station and disgusting weather this did not come to be. After much deliberation, the family went to see the Terracotta Army while I regrouped at the hostel before braving the rain and visiting the Tibetan Temple. The temple itself was a wonderful splash of colour in a very grey day but with such weather I decided to count my circuitous route to and from it as my sightseeing for the day and retreated to the dry haven of the hostel.

Cycling along the city wall.

The next day I walked up Huashan Mountain, which I talk about in a separate post. In the evening I was relaxing in the hostel common area-cum-bar when I saw the most glorious words a food obsessed tourist can see, food tour, being written up for the following evening. Needless to say, my name was the first on the board closely followed by the young woman I had been speaking to’s.

View from the city wall.

The next day I did a little clothes shopping but spent a large amount of time taking it easy in the hostel, unwilling to push my self after the previous day’s hike. There was no way I was about to risk wearing myself out before the food tour. And what a food tour it was.

The Tibetan Temple, also known as the Lama Temple.

Instead of going the the widely touted Muslim Quarter for food, we went to a food quarter preferred by the locals that used to belong to one of China’s historic Prime Ministers. This suited me just fine as while everywhere online claims the Muslim Quarter is the place to eat, I found the food not as good as the small local restaurants that are everywhere as well as being supremely overpriced. I expect there are a few very good stalls or restaurants however, I am inclined to believe that there is far more chaff than wheat and that sorting through everywhere to find somewhere good is not worth the effort. By all means go and soak up the atmosphere just don’t bother with the food. The only exceptions are if one wants savoury bread in which case the flat bread is a good option, and the green stall selling lamb Chinese burgers for 15 yuan at the entrance to the main street opposite the Drum Tower.

The entrance to the Tibetan Temple.

The food at this market we went to was absolutely sublime. We paired up for each dish to ensure we wouldn’t become full too soon. We started out sitting at a long table and digging into some excellent noodles. Fortunately my buddy and I both prefer a less spicy genre of food so were both content to pass the chilli bowl along without adding any to our bowl. It was very amusing to watch all the locals walking passed while filming and taking photos of us. To me, it is an experience of China that only other people experience as with my relatively dark hair and a tan that makes me darker skinned than half the locals, I make a very uninteresting foreigner.

The most complex character in the Chinese alphabet is for a kind of noodle. 

While still at the table we tried a pulled pork bun where the pork is first cooked for hours and the bun was a wonderfully light and flaky pastry. This was so good that when a spare one was going free, I quickly volunteered to take one for the team and split it with the other guy who was interested. It was at this point that the bottle of Jack Daniels, produced by an American guy in order to celebrate the 4th July, made its first round of the group.

Just mashing some potatoes.

We then moved onwards, in amongst the buildings of the market and tried some roast potatoes, and a beef and cabbage bun similar to the pork one. The potatoes were good and I was surprised when the chilli covered ones weren’t actually too spicy. The only downside was I was hesitant to fully enjoy them, worried I would fill up before the end of the tour. We took a quick break from eating to pound mash potato with a giant hammer which was absolutely hilarious. The gentleman running the stall had a hat with a potato attached to it.

Gearing up to smash our cups – the pile of broken ones is eventually recycled.

Our next stop also wasn’t food, instead being a drink of some kind of local wine. While the alcohol wasn’t bad the real joy was smashing the small earthenware cups it came in after we had finished. Next stop was a variety of grilled vegetables, the aubergine of which was my favourite and mushrooms least favourite. This was last of our savoury dishes and next we had was skewers of hard toffee coated fruit. The selection of fruit was a little odd with tomatoes, grapes and strawberries. The old adage that it takes intelligence to know a tomato is a fruit but wisdom not to put it in a fruit salad did spring to mind. The final stop was some nut paste filled pastries but these were sadly rather dry and our guide reckoned he would find something new for the next tour.

A road in the food market we visited.

The evening wrapped up with a drink in the hostel and lots of full stomachs. Given the number of paragraphs I have devoted to food related topics in this post, I think it is safe to say that Xi’an has some excellent food on offer and I could quite happily go back and continue eating my way around town, especially with the number of places selling cumin seasoned skewers for 1 yuan.

The Most Dangerous Hike?

Starting out optimistic.

I seem to have a slightly masochistic streak in that, despite a deep seated fear of heights, I love finding sheer precipices to visit. Perhaps it is an addiction to the adrenaline that sees me seeking new heights (literally), or maybe my fear of missing out is greater than my fear of heights (unlikely). However, I suspect the true reason is my Guernsey donkey stubbornness in the belief that enough self inflicted exposure therapy will eventually overcome a fear that is only exceeded by my fear and hatred of wasps.

This slope isn’t so bad…

Enough rambling prelude, let’s start painting a picture of what has got me chattering on about heights and my fear of them. Imagine a mountain which has a (somewhat misplaced) reputaion as being the most dangerous hike in the world. Bloggers love to repeat the old wives tale of 100 deaths a year on these precarious slopes and no post is complete without a photo of the notorious plank walk: a plank of wood bolted to a sheer cliff with a 5000 foot drop should one slip.

…Oh wait.

When first researching China, I stumbled across photos of the plank walk and just knew that I had to try it. It was 90% of my reason for visiting Xi’an, the other 10% being generously allowed for the Terracotta army. Imagine my disappointment (and I’m not too proud to admit, miniscule spark of relief) when I arrived at the entrance of the plank walk to find it padlocked closed.

More stairs. At least one doesn’t have to climb the old stairs seen top centre.

Admittedly I had known from the start that there was a reasonable chance of the plankwalk being closed. Of the three days I had pencilled in for a day trip to Huashan Mountain, I had picked the one with the least bad weather but conditions were still far from good. When I had set out from Xi’an that morning, it had been in a fine drizzle which accompanied me halfway up the initial six kilometre climb from the Jade Temple. That climb in itself had been rather nervewracking. The first three kilometres had been a deceptively pleasant upwards gradient followed by some slightly tougher stairs over the next kilometre. The two penultimate kilometres before the north peak were continuous steps of evil which saw me using my hands on the steps in front of me for various stretches or clutching firmly to the chain hand rails.

Stunning views.

At this point my Guernsey donkey stubbornness once again reared its equine head. I had read that the walking time for the “One Way up Huashan Mountain from Ancient Times” path took between two to five hours with an average time of three and a half. Hence I had decided that I would do it in under two and a half hours. Nevermind that I would never classify myself as particularly fit, there is something about being given a walking time that makes me strangely defiant and determined to be quicker. This meant that I took no respites on my upwards sprint beyond a few five second breathers on the longer stairways. Given the heavy cloud cover, I had no fear of missing out on the any views and was able to devote myself fully to the hike.

Getting somewhere.

I made it panting and sweating to the top of the North peak in two hours and fifteen minutes without falling down any of the ladders masquerading as stair so a definite win on that front. There were two precarious feeling climbs that I wanted to complete on the mountain. The aforementioned plank walk and the climb down to the chess pavilion. This latter was on the eastern peak and it was here I head to first.

And finally a view.

Sadly for me, the northern peak upon which I was standing was the lowest of the peaks and instead of getting a break from all the up I had been doing, I found myself immediately having to climb up yet more stairs. Mercifully these weren’t nearly as steep as the more terrifying stretches of the One Way path. There was a ridge I crossed which was fine as I was crossing it but when I looked back, the clouds to each side had momentarily cleared revealing the sheer drop to either side of the path.

More stairs!

Walking through the clouds was very enjoyable with the tantalising glimpses of mountain tops they occasionally revealed. In amongst the peaks there were far less sheer drops to set my heart beating above what could be excused as a severe case of excessive stairs. This of course changed as I reached the queue to climb down to the chess pavilion. Even after being given my harness I had a long wait to consider just what I was about to do. Only a certain number of people could climb down at a time and it was clear that the operators were letting that number down each time rather than opting for smaller, more efficient groups.

The Chess Pavilion.

Even though the group before me had all descended when I arrived, it was a forty minute wait before they all returned and we could begin climbing down. This left plenty of time for the clouds to clear for a few scant seconds at a time. Each time I became a little more nervous as I saw the distance to the pavilion. My nerves were not improved as, when it was finally time to start climbing, two of the girls ahead of me quickly backed out and retreated back up the steps.

Climbing down to the Chess Pavilion.

Once I got started the initial climb down, the only stretch deemed risky enough to need a harness, it wasn’t so bad although my knees shook a little from the pent up nervous energy. The remainder of the walk out to the pavilion was quite pleasant and I took great amusement from a couple of bits that didn’t have a wire to clip one’s harness to but still had a sheer drop patiently biding its time to capture the unwary at the bottom. I guess one must laugh or cry in that situation. Heading back the the top was very frustrating as I had been near the front of the queue going down so then had to wait for everyone else to finish climbing down – another half hour wait.

Made it!

When I finally made it back to the top, safely away from all sheer drops into cloudy oblivion, I walked as quickly as my exhausted legs would allow to the south peak and the infamous plank walk. Each step saw a coil tension winding tighter in the pit of my stomach. My nerves were a delicious crescendo as I walked along the first, safely railed section of the walk. As I realised the walk was closed, the locked gate looming before me, my turbulent emotions deflated like a balloon into a hard little ball of disappointment. Admittedly there was a pin prick of relief that softened the sharpest corners but I enjoy pushing my limits too much for that relief to be overarching.

Almost glad I can’t see the drop here.

With nothing left to see on the mountain – I saw no benefit in climbing to the very top of each peak with so much cloud concealing the view. I made my way to the western cable car. While the drizzling fog made climb to the peaks an exercise in futility and was most likely the cause of my disappointment over the plank walk, it did create some eerily beautiful backdrops, especially where the ubiquitous padlocks were joined with rippling red prayer ribbons on their fences and railings.

The start of the Plank Walk.

The western cable car was ridiculously overpriced, 126 yuan (£14.39) plus 40 yuan (£4.57) for the compulsory bus (unless one wants to pay even more for a taxi, since walking along the road is forbidden) back to the tourist centre. In Europe this may seem reasonable but considering that my student entrance fee to the park was only 80 yuan and that the 120km bus journey back to Xi’an was also only 40 yuan, the cost did rankle somewhat. In hindsight I should have walked around to the northern cable car which is cheaper and from the bottom of which one can walk back to the tourist centre. However, the weather seemed to be closing in even more and all the mini cafes were closing even though it was only just after five so I was worried that the northern cable car would be closed by the time I reached it.

With all the adrenaline seekers it is easy to forget that the mountain is also a religious sight.

If I let go of my irritation over the cost, the cable ride down was a lot of fun. I had the whole car to myself and there was a breathtaking moment when I emerged from the base of one cloud layer and could see all the mountains poking their heads from the layer below. Even sitting suspended in a box, surrounded in all directions by a white void was a surreal experience, making me feel like I had entered the nothingness.

Red prayer ribbons and padlocks.

From the tourist centre, I circumnavigated the cries of taxi taxi and caught the bus back to Xi’an in time to devour a late dinner of a lamb Chinese burger and some excellent 1 yuan beef skewers. The only difficulty was that sitting still on the bus allowed my muscles to seize somewhat and my walk back to the hostel was more of a very slow penguin waddle.

Path to the West Peak summit.

A final note I would like to make for anyone who travels from Xi’an by train to Huashan Bei station is that the taxi drivers will pounce on you as you leave the station and tell you that the free shuttle bus to the tourist centre is closed. No matter how many times you tell them no they will keep following you trying to get you to get a taxi. Ignore them. Walk across the square, passed the statues of musicians, to the carpark. There is a small bus stop. Wait there for the bus and continue to ignore the taxi drivers. Ideally get the number one shuttle bus as it is quicker than the number two. Some websites imply the shuttle doesn’t run outside of peak season but given the level of continuous misinformation, I shall leave it up to the reader to decide if they want to try waiting for the shuttle in the winter months.

Descending in the cable car.