Xi'an

Because it was just a few days before the start of the Chinese New Year, we were stranded. It seemed as though all of China was on the move, making finding room on a train a traumatic and ultimately fruitless task. With no way to Xi'an we were left twiddling or thumbs. Thankfully though, we had found the best place in town to do so.No, before I begin to wax lyrical about the Shuyuan I will concede that it does have a couple of faults: (i) It has no central heating, instead it relies upon fan heaters to keep the rooms warm. This means that in winter things can be just a little brisk. (ii) The tours they provide, whilst not a rip-off could be better organised.With that done and dusted I can get on with discussing what I really liked about the Shuyuan. First off we arrived at well before 7am after 11 hours on a hard sleeper bunk from Beijing and they led us straight into our room with absolutely no fuss. Second, the location is awesome, sat just inside the southern section of the ancient walls, it is within walking distance to the Muslim Quarter, the Drum Tower and even the Wild Goose Pagoda. I also have to say that I genuinely appreciated the architecture of the place, built as it was in an old Chinese style around two secluded courtyards. It was this, coupled with the absent central heating though, that meant the rooms could be a touch cold. Many opened directly out onto the courtyard and into the cold morning air.In reality though, all the things mentioned above amount amount to nothing more than mere trivialities. What really endeared the place to me was the bar. Cold local brews were just 3RMB ($.35), the food was both Western and Chinese and in both cases excellent. There were couches upon which to relax and chat as well as English magazines to peruse as you sipped your drink. We were in Xi'an for 4 nights, during which it seemed the Shuyuan's bar had a magnetic effect. Perhaps if it hadn't have had, there would be more entries in this journal about other places to eat and drink in Xi'an.

Xian sits in what is an interesting location in terms of China as a whole. It is exponentially closer to the sea and the east coast than it is to China's remote western borders. However since the majority of the country's population is concentrated in its eastern provinces, Xian in fact represents something of a gateway to the west and several 100 years ago was considered one of the first stops on the ancient Silk Road. Because of this it boasts something of a thriving Muslim community.The Muslim quarter of the city is conveniently located quite centrally, only a few minutes walk from the Drum Tower at the centre of Xian's old town. Regardless of this though, it seems far less tourist oriented and manages to maintain a unique and distinct identity. When Oz and I visited Xian it was deepest winter and, not unexpectedly, bitterly cold. Yet despite this there was still plenty of life going on out on the streets, the majority of which seemed to revolve around the skewering and cooking of mutton. Along the side of the largely pedestrianised road were scores of crude looking barbecues manned by guys with slightly darker complexions than average, generally sporting moustaches and often wearing delicately woven skull caps. They all seemed busy seasoning the meat before ramming it down on giant rusty looking skewers.Since we were in the area we decided it would be a neat idea to go for a change of pace and grab some authentic Muslim food. This proved to be easier said than done. None of the restaurants had signs in English and from what we could ascertain only one of them had a menu that we could read. We decided to brave it and see what we could come up with.The menu was in broken, rather than regular, English, but eventually we managed to order the traditional hot-pot, which proved to be just full of surprises. We had hoped for the white pottery container to be full of mutton, noodles and a few potatoes. In all fairness those were in there, it was some of the other stuff that had been shovelled in with them that perturbed us. We were able to identify the chicken's feet and the sheep's stomach lining, but there were two or three lumps of something that simply could not be indetified—we left those well alone.

Ossie ad I had just completed our first Chinese rail journey, 11 hours from Beijing West to Xi'an. We arrived at just after 6am and as a consequence were in need of a good breakfast and some strong coffee. We managed to secure and consume both of these at our hostel and after a couple of hours rest were ready for action. Having been couped up in the hard sleepers for so long, stretching our legs was clearly order of the day and since the ancient city walls ran for 14km they seemed the ideal option.One of the first things we had done upon our arrival at our hostel was to book a tour to the Terracotta Warriors the following day, they were after all why we had made the journey to Xi'an. So, if I am being brutally honest, we were also using the walls to kill some time on our spare day. However, I was surprised to discover just how beautiful and interesting the walls were in their own right.They date back hundreds of years, yet form a virtually intact rectangle around the inner city. Granted there has been plenty of restoration work, but it is possible to walk along all 14km of the walls to complete a lap of the city without a single break. The majority of the fortifications remain as they have for centuries, including over 3,000 slots designed to give archers the perfect shot at perspective invaders.Since the walls were first constructed Xi'an has grown to become a city of 6 million people. Because of this the city has grown up to and beyond its ancient defences. One of my favorite elements of the wall was how history and modernity coexisted so intimately. It was possible to look down from the walls at the train station and the accompanying melee has hundreds of Chinese fought for tickets. Along the way there were also counties apartments just a few feet away from the edge o the walls. It was interesting to note how all of them seemed to have been built in the past 30 years, yet almost all of them were showing signs of wear. It worked to emphasize the permanence exuded by the walls.Xi'an's old town—encompassed within the walls—is bisected by two main boulevards which meet at the centre. Their union is crowned by the impressive Drum Tower, an ornately crafted fortress that dominates the very centre of the city. The walls offer a wonderful view of the tower. It is possible to stare along the boulevards from above and stick it out in the centre. Were it not for a heavy winter fog and for just a little too much pollution, I venture that I would have been able to see the far side of the wall as well.

Out tour guide was busy going on about something to do with the size of each warrior or the amount contained in the main display hall. However, he may as well have been talking to himself. The warriors were one of the main reasons I had come to China and I was just too anxious to finally see them. Coupled with this I was also captivated by the unique light I could see through the entrance to the hall.As I entered the hall it became clear that the strange quality of light came from the strong afternoon sun permeating through the windows of the hall and reflecting on the light colored earth and the army of warriors below. It was a captivating sight. The crisp afternoon sunshine meant that the warriors looked clear, distinct and downright remarkable as they stood there in eternal ranks.One thing that struck me was the great contrast between the idea of the massed ranks of soldiers and the individual details of each man. Every row seemed to stretch back and back with each of its members stood firmly to attention. This offered a stunning uniformity, that, despite the warriors inanimatey, produced an enthralling sense of menace. It was only as I scrutinised each one of them and put the zoom on my camera to heavy use, that I began to appreciate the individuality of each figure though.It was plain to see some were in different condition to others. There were some missing arms, legs and even heads, whilst some of their counterparts remained awe-inspiringly intact. Beyond this though, each figure still seemed to maintain its own individuality and identity. Different ranks were bedecked with different head-gear, some sported moustaches and it appeared that there was something different about each and every suit of armour they were wearing.The warriors nurtured in me a feeling similar to that which I experienced at the Great Wall or Summer Palace. It was as though I was mesmerised, gripped by a reticence to depart and an overwhelming and almost uncontrollable desire to photograph. This was interrupted only by my buddy Oz and his utterance, in a stiff Belfast accent, "I would have thought there would have been more of the little bastards." Strangely enough he had a point. Our tour guide had previously informed us that of an estimated 7,000 figures, only about 1,200 were actually visible. The remainder were still buried for their own preservation. Had the whole army been on parade, I fear its magnetic pull may have been enough to prevent me from ever leaving.

I honestly cannot tell whether it was a heavy winter fog or simply an average day's pollution that took the lustre off our trip to the Wild Goose Pagoda. In defence of the city, on most of the days we were there, there had been a mist present in the morning, which tended to lift to a certain extent in the afternoon. Unfortunately on the Thursday during which we decided to visit the goose, things didn't break and visibility remained poor all day.We walked from our hostel by the southern gate of the city to the pagoda, which is about 6km to the south. Along the way though, the pollution argument in regards to the poor visibility began to gather weight. The road from the centre of the city was crowded with traffic spilling copious quantities of fumes into the air. As we moved further along things seemed to get heavier, causing the odd cough and splutter along the way.The Wild Goose was marked with a giant symbol on or tourist map. Because of this we were expecting to see it from a good distance away. Unfortunately we seemed to walk for kilometers peering into the haze in the vain hope that we would see our final goal. It was only as we neared the final few hundred meters before it that the pagoda finally drew into view.The view of the Wild Goose from street-level was impressive. A large, tiered plaza led up to a walled complex of shrines and temples at the foot of the seven-floored structure. Inside the walls the shrines and Buddhist paraphernalia were both quaint and delicately crafted. The whole scene was also made far more appealing as there was almost no one else there to appreciate it, making it possible to inspect calligraphic engravings in close detail and to get a healthy scent of the incense without being overrun by crowds.Having walked all the way to the pagoda I was determined to climb all seven flights of stairs to the top. My buddy Oz on the other hand, took a slightly more pragmatic approach. Arguing that since visibility was so poor, he decided there was no point putting hi feet under any more undue stress. Alas his predictions proved all too correct. When I reached the top I was greeted by a bank of gray, which extended to within a couple of hundred feet. The only thing in Xi'an I could see clearly was Oz resting his feet below.

I noticed that throughout China many of the country's ancient buildings and much of its traditional architecture, whilst stunning, often seem to be crafted from decidedly similar moulds. In Beijing alone, there are scores of gates and temples that could ordinarily be viewed as exquisite. Only they drift into anonimity, overshadowed by grander versions of themselves. No ordinary temple could really be seen as too special next to the Forbidden City or Summer Palace.

The Drum Tower in Xi'an, in my eyes at least, suffered from a similar fate. I had already seen the like in Beijing and would see similar again in Yinchuan, Nanjing, and Hangzhou. It was as though it—and many creations like it—blurred into one giant red, green, and gold leafed definition of Chinese architecture.

Even though the Drum Tower was nothing overly special, it somehow managed to avoid becoming a tourist also-ran and sticks quite distinctly in my mind. I think much of that comes from the city of Xi'an's ancient symmetry. The old twon is enclosed within the rectangular shaped walls with its two main boulevards, forming a cross and meeting at the very centre of the city. It is at this juncture that the Drum Tower sits, dominating the traffic that scurries around its base.

Since the tower is at the heart of the city, we passed it on countless occassions as we headed to and from other sights. Each time we walked around it I noticed it in a different light or at a different angle, creating a reassuring familiarity. From that familiarity, a certain affection for the tower at night began to grow.

When the sun fell the tower was illuminated by a combination of giant spotlights and the headlamps of the cars and buses speeding around it. I loved the image of the ancient building looking regal and sedate as opposed to the new cars and the modern generation, which looked flustered and frenzied beneath. For me it was a snapshot of China's changing times.