The History Trail (Part 2)

After leaving Pingyao, I head toward Xi'an, the Mecca of historical China. Once the site of the ancient city of Chang'an, which was the capital of the nation during some of China's most amazing historical periods, modern day Xi'an is so awash with history you need a snorkle just to try to breath above it all. Or so I had heard. To be honest, no matter how I tried to look at the city, I could not see it as anything other than disappointing.

Firstly, the city itself. I was disappointed to find out that Xi'an is not actually the ancient Chang'an, but rather another city rebuilt on Chang'an's ashes. The newer city of Xi'an does quite a few drawcards, some left over from Chang'an, like the big goose pagoda, and some being a part of the newer city, such as the city walls. Unfortunately, whatever beauty these places might have had was completely taken away by the pollution, which was far worse than that encountered in Beijing, settling like a grim fog over the entire city for the entire duration of my stay. I refuse to take photos of anything; even the most beautiful city walls are ugly when covered in thick grey smog.

Luckily, however, Xi'an's biggest drawcard is actually not within the city itself, in a valley located far away from the smog belching power plants. The real reason most people make the trip out to Xi'an is to see the Terracotta Warriors, commonly ranking alongside the Great Wall and the Forbidden City as one of Chinese most amazing sights, and a definite must-see on any traveller's list. Upon leaving, I am absolutely mystified as to why this is.

Ok, I knew there were going to be a heap of Chinese tourists yelling and pushing. And I knew that it would be overpriced ($20 just to get in, 5 nights worth of accomodation in China), and that people would be trying to sell me things at every possible opportunity. I didn't even mind that the warriors themselves were actual reconstructions from tiny smashed up peices, or that the paint had long ago faded and left them stripped of many of their more interesting features. All I expected was warriors, lots and lots of terracotta warriors stretching into the distance as far as the eye could see. I saved the biggest cave for last, expecting to be at least mildly awed by the sight before me...to find a mildly large grouping of soldiers, perhaps a thousand, with only the bare dirt stretching into the distance. Disappointed, I quickly found a tour guide to point out some of the more subtle features of the statues in order to make it more interesting, who explained to me that the vast majority of the 8000 warriors were still unexcavated, in order to preserve them for future generations. I shall make a note to come back in a few hundred years...

My next stopover proves to be more rewarding. The same rulers who had Datong as their capital eventually moved to Luoyang, and here too they carried on their cave-building, resulting in yet another truly stunning series of cave art. Keen to avoid disappointment, I try to get to this one early to avoid the masses of Chinese tour groups which will no doubt descend on the place during the day. Luckily, the caves are for some reason open from 6:30am, and I get up at sunrise to catch a glimpse of the statues in the early morning. By the time I arrive it is 7:30, and I assume I am already to late to catch the statues at their most serene. However, upon arriving, I find that I seem to be the only person keen to take advantage of the early opening hours, and I almost have to wake the ticket collector up to buy my ticket, to be the first person to enter the caves that day. It is a truly amazing experience. A UNESCO world heritage sight, all to myself. No yelling tourists, no flashing photographs...standing inside with the 1500 year old Buddha's, the caves are serene once more.

It is an hour before the tourists start to show up. It is no exaggeration to say that, in the still morning air, they could be heard a kilometre away. There is something about Chinese tour groups that is infinitely worse than those found at most tourist sights around the world. Firstly, the Chinese tourists themselves tend to be more boistreous than their Western counterparts, yelling loudly and spitting on the paths whenever the opportunity presents itself. Secondly, they always travel in huge groups, neccesitating a tour guide with a loud megaphone in order to give the explanation to the group. Thirdly, they are always in a hurry, which means that they cut their way through every tourist sight with an efficiency and brutality that makes most slowly ambling backpackers like myself cringe. By the middle of the day, the place is overrun.

Luckily, however, there is more than one cave in this complex...2345 to be exact. Having seen the key sights, I now roam about the smaller caves which the tour groups have no time for. Standing before the ancient buddha statues, one can capture a glimpse of the spirituality they still manage to retain amongst all the chaos.

The tour groups are rushing through in order to get to the regions other major attraction before dinner time. Their destination is the Shaolin Temple, and, grudgingly, I follow them. I do not go to the temple directly however, but spend a few days in the nearby town of Dengfeng instead. Shaolin may have the fame and prestige, but it is the hills around Dengfeng where most of the kung-fu training is actually done. I spend many an afternoon wandering around this region, taking part in the local pastime of watching the students train. I am far less able to blend in with the scenery than they are however, and many of the students attempt to shout "Hello!" in my direction in between the punches and kicks of their routines.

Having heard the stories of a few ex-students in Beijing, I know that the life of these young kung-fu disciples is anything but easy. Day after day, month after month, of physical training of the most intense variety, with perfectionist teachers demanding not only technical and athletic skill, but also flexbility of the variety that makes the splits seem like a comfortable sitting position. Injuries are quite common; indeed, the students I met in Beijing were ex-students because of crippling injuries they had received during training. But whilst the physical training is nothing short of gruelling, its seems that the mental and spiritual training, once the most integral part of Shaolin Kung-fu, has now been all but forgotten. It is a performance art, an athletic art, and students come here not seeking enlightenment so much as a cut of the huge profits made from Shaolin Kung-Fu shows and demonstrations.

The temple itself only serves to reinforce my image of Shaolin. After paying a huge fee to get into the temple, I find the shaolin temple itself almost laughably overrated. Having been burnt down so many times over the years, much of the buildings are simply modern reconstructions, with dates like "1972" and "1994" inscribed into them. Except for one hall in the back, which has survived since the Ming dynasty. Here, I notice the brick floors have several indentations in them, which are said to be the places where the students feet rested as they performed their kung-fu, gradually wearing down the bricks through thousands upon thousands of kicks and stomps. Perhaps real kung-fu did exist here once before...

Shaolin is said to be the origin of Kung-fu, but more accurately Kung-fu is said to have originated from Bodhidharma, an Indian Buddhist monk who made his way here in the 6th century AD. After spending 9 years meditating in a cave nearby, Bodhidharma invented a system of spiritual exercise to give the monks the physical strength to support their long periods of meditation. And as if creating the world's most influential form of martial arts wasn't enough for him, Bodhidharma also used his profound insights during his period of meditation to form the Ch'an sect of buddhism, later to become known as Zen. Fed up with the temple itself, I begin a hike up into the mountains to see the cave where it all began...

Naturally, climbing this mountain has to involve stairs, as absolutely every tourist sight worth visiting in China does. But an hour or so later, the scenery is definitely well worth the effort...from the peak, one can see the holy mountains surrounding the temples, the fields beyond, and even hear the slightest sound of the din of tourists flocking below. Inside Bodhidharma's cave however, all is quiet. You would think that the cave where Zen began, the cave where Kung-fu began, would be one of China's premier tourist attractions, but the lack of cable car means only an intrepid few ever bother to come see it. Inside, a nun quietly tends to an altar of Bodhidharma's statue, and welcomes me inside to pray there. No guard rails here, no tourist crowds...just me and a nun, chatting away about nothing in particular, in the very same cave where silence reigned for 9 years. Afterwards, I climb to the peak to greet the huge statue of Bodhidharma sitting on the top of the mountain, sternly looking out at the amazing scenery surrounding him.

I head back down to the temple itself around sunset, to check off two more items on my standard-tourist-route checklist. The first is the pagoda forest, the one place where the authentic history of the temple has survived. Over the centuries, pagodas where built here for exceptional abbots and monks, and what survives today is a true forest of pagodas, dating from the 6th century AD all the way until modern times.

The second thing on my list is to get a classic Kung-fu photo, and as luck would have it there is a group of students providing just that. The gold clad Bruce-Lee's of the future strike their poses in front of the Shaolin gate, offering passer-bys the perfect photo opportunity.

Leaving Shaolin, I head for the last destination on my trip. For the end of my journey, I arrive at the beginning of Chinese history; Zhengzhou, the capital city during the China's first dynasty in around 1500 BC. The city itself is now thoroughly modern, except for one peculiarity; a long, high mound of dirt cuts its way through the city, the remnants of the ancient city wall. A wall which stood silently when the first Buddha statue was carved, when Bodhidharma first emerged from his cave into the cool mountain air, when the first thought of a terracotta army crossed the emperors mind... As I walk along it now, the ancient wall still stands silently, looking out over the modern city while the cars and motorbikes whiz around it. The earth spins, the sun sets...another day of history is complete.