The Main Attraction

People go to Xian to see the terracotta warriors and of course for me it was a priority.

We weren't quite organized about getting there; I'd read you could take a bus from somewhere near the train station, but I forgot to take down the details.

So instead we were taken for a ride -- practically a staple in Chinese tourism.

As soon as our hotel bellboy heard we wanted to go see the bing ma yong (terracotta warriors), he said he could get us a car and it would cost us 300RMB (US$43.80). At first my friend was annoyed with the price, but relented as I thought it would be the best way for us without having to worry about how to get there and back.

So we waited... and waited... and waited...

Finally a mini van pulled up and we were told it would be 350RMB. We firmly said 300RMB and the driver backed down. Or so we thought.

Then we headed south instead of east to pick up a "free" tour guide. Maggie was nice enough, chatty and tried to tell us more about Xian and tourist sites in Mandarin which in a way was a good lesson for me in trying to understand as much as I could.

We hadn't had breakfast yet, and asked to be taken to a bun or snack shop along the way so we could eat in the car. Again the driver and Maggie said OK, but then later said they'd take us to a restaurant at the terracotta warrior site.

The road to the area was quite bumpy and not properly paved. There were also many tolls along the way the driver had to pay. You'd think with all that money collected from tourism that the government would put some of that money into fixing the road to the top tourist attraction of the province.

When we got there we were taken to a quasi fancy restaurant, as the driver said we should go to a "clean" place. It was relatively clean but ridiculously expensive. When I asked for napkins, the waitress said it would be 2RMB each, even though our meal consisted of two bowls of noodles with a bean sauce, a plate of vegetables with mushrooms, and a steamer of dumplings that weren't that great.

Maggie and the driver claimed they had already eaten and he lingered in the restaurant as she took us to the entrance of the terracotta museum. Obviously he was collecting some kind of fee for taking us there.

As we walked to the entrance, Maggie said she didn't have a proper tour guide license so she wouldn't be able to give us more explanations. But we were more than happy to just wander around on our own at 90RMB ($13.14) each.

Upon entering, you have to walk through this park-like space which is nice, but, doesn't really do much except make you wonder when you'll get there. But it does make you wonder what the fields looked like in 1974 when farmers were digging a well and then made this amazing find.

There are three buildings and none of the signs translated into English. I thought the grand-looking one on the right would be a good start, but it turned out to be an exhibition of some Chinese artist's impressions of the terracotta warriors.

The canvases were hardly inspiring and one wondered how he got to show his work there in the first place.

We immediately fled the scene and headed to the second building which turned out to be the second pit.

It was a giant area divided into several rectangular cells that revealed mostly broken pieces of the terracotta warriors and their horses.

It was fascinating to see the giant pits that even had brick floors. From the illustrations there are estimates of 8,000 soldiers, 130 chariots with 520 horses and 150 calvary horses.

The first emperor of China called Qinshihuangdi had these soldiers and horses made to guard him in the afterlife.

Apparently each of the soldiers looks slightly different and while I didn't look too hard, it did seem they all had a slightly different appearance. Four statues that were in excellent condition and behind glass revealed their facial expressions, even fine grooves to show hair, and buttons on their uniforms were amazing details to see.

The first pit was also dramatic -- with hundreds of soldiers standing at attention in front of visitors. The entire pit wasn't opened, but one could get the idea of a giant army buried below. It's just too bad people can't get down to the same level as the pit and see the soldiers a bit closer behind glass.

But when you walk around to the back of the pit, the railing is quite low and easy to cross. It was here in 2006 a German art student, Pablo Wendel, had such an interest in the terracotta warriors that he dressed up like one and jumped into the pit with them.

It took a while for security guards to find him, as he stood just as stiff as the statues.

After he was caught he was given a severe warning but not banned from the country, as he'd demonstrated such a love of ancient Chinese culture.

We then headed to Qinshihuangdi's mausoleum which is nearby. At the entrance are real men dressed as the soldiers posing, while another beats a large drum. How cute.

The mausoleum is under a giant hill that we climbed up and had a panoramic view of the area. There were also many butterflies dancing around us and the hill had many pomegranate trees and rose bushes.

Unfortunately there isn't much more to see there, but a pleasant stroll in a garden-like area.

Maggie asked for our ticket stubs, probably to get some more kickbacks. She later tried to talk us into seeing a place that makes terracotta warriors, but we politely but firmly declined and she had to give up the sales talk.

We made it back in good time, only to have them demand 350RMB -- the extra 50 for the tolls.

At this point, we could have argued out of principle, but decided to just pay the total and finish the deal.

Unfortunately experiences like this are systemic in China's tourism industry; it would take a herculaean effort by the central government to regulate it. The chances of that happening are slim, so you pretty much have to accept it -- just make sure you're not fleeced too much.

Keeping Commuters in Line

These past few days I went to Xian to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival.

This year China changed the public holiday calendar so that people could have a day of rest after staying out with family on Mid-Autumn Festival day that fell on Sunday this year.

Xian seems to be under a constant haze which can make the city seem dreary.

On the road from the airport to the city, the streets are narrow, with two-way traffic, from cars and bicycles, mopeds and trucks trying to squeeze through.

Roadside stores don't seem to offer much, with people lingering outside them waiting for business.

But once you get into the city, past the north city wall, Xian starts to resemble what Beijing probably looked like 10-15 years ago.

Strange modern buildings harking back to the 1980s stand proudly, with lots of bank buildings for some reason. There isn't much of an industry except for tourism, thanks to some farmers who discovered some terracotta warriors on their fields in 1976.

Xian is laid out on an axis much like Beijing, but on a smaller scale so it's relatively easy to figure out where you're going.

We walked a lot on the streets, but currently with subway construction happening (long overdue, but still won't be open until 2012), there are periodic jams, as the construction sites disrupt traffic, and there's no thought of foot traffic trying to get through safely.

But what impressed me most were the traffic wardens, a group of about five standing at each major corner of an intersection.

They're mostly elderly men, wearing green uniforms, sunglasses, a hat and white gloves. Their other major pieces of equipment on the job are a red flag and a whistle.

They use their flags to direct people when they should cross the street and they keep people and vehicles in line by sharply blowing on their whistles.

They have no shame in berating pedestrians or drivers for either standing in the wrong place or driving through a red light.

I wonder if they get demerits on their work performance or if it's an important part of their work mandate to make sure their corner of the intersection is safe.

It certainly gives people like me a sense of relief to know I'm crossing an intersection safely when they're there.

But they're not at every single street corner in Xian and there are some intersections with no lights or traffic wardens at all, leaving everyone to precariously cross the street.

Nevertheless, these traffic wardens are too cool. Beijing needs more of them, especially their militant attention to road safety.

A Taste of Hong Kong

The Village in Sanlitun is a new development from Swire, a Hong Kong-based company that also owns Cathay Pacific.

And the retail complex is a crazy piece of architecture that's funky for a city that loves straight lines and big boxy buildings.

It has jagged edges sticking out and coloured glass with shades of orange, red and mauve.

It houses stores like Apple, Nike and Adidas, Starbucks and Uniqlo.

And if you've had your shopping fix, you can get some Hong Kong grub at the Herbal Cafe.

The Cantonese restaurant promises no MSG, and less oil which is music to the hears of Hong Kong expats who have a hard time adjusting to Beijing's generous lashings of oil and chillis.

It's a nice, upbeat setting, and tonight there was a cool breeze going, which would have been perfect to dine al fresco, but all the tables outside were taken.

Nevertheless we sat inside in a booth and I had fun looking up periodically to a big screen showing short movies and crazy animation shorts.

The menu is almost strictly Cantonese. The steamed shrimp dumplings (18RMB) are pretty good, and sweet and sour pork with pineapple (38RMB) was OK.

We also had stir-fried broccoli (22RMB), and Hainan Chicken (52RMB), which was more meaty than flavourful, so it was a bit of a letdown.

But the best was the soup -- Cantonese style.

Called "8 Hours Essence Soup", there is a large selection, but unfortunately only one is available as the soup of the day.

Today it was Almond, Sea Coconut and Pork Shank Soup (33RMB), and it arrived in a thermos. You poured the broth into your bowl and it was piping hot, just the way it should be.

It wasn't oily and tasted delicious -- practically like homemade soup.

The thermos was good enough for over two bowls of soup. And as my friend didn't want the rest of his portion, I was left drinking lots of soup.

I've been craving Cantonese soup in Beijing for a long time so this was a welcome relief. Soups in the Chinese capital are practically non-existent, or taste more like water than soup.

Looks like I've found my new hangout for my soup fix.

Herbal Cafe
The Village at Sanlitun
S6-33 Third Floor
19 Sanlitun Road
Beijing
6416 0618

Creative Recycling

Since the 2008 Beijing Olympics was also touted as the "Green Olympics", some television shows have taken it upon themselves to tell others how to creatively recycle things.

I saw two episodes running on the screens on the buses on my way home from work.

The first and most recent one shows other uses for plastic bottles.

But you can't just use any bottle -- they have to be the wide-necked ones because they show you these containers are great for storing things from dried sticks of noodles to pasta, beans and other condiments.

A guy shows off why these bottles are so great, by putting one filled with dried beans on the edge of a table, and pushes it off and it falls to the ground.

"See! Isn't it great! It doesn't break!" he exclaims.

Then he picks it up and does it again. And again.

OK, we get the picture.

The second and earlier episode gave a beauty tip.

It showed a woman taking a finished plastic cup of yogurt with its peel-off lid still on it.

The lid still had some leftover yogurt on it so she took some of it and applied it on the back of her hand.

Not only did she apply it like a moisturiser, but then she applied more pressure and rubbed her skin harder and harder until flakes of dead skin started appearing.

After she wiped the dead skin off, she then explained how much softer her skin was and suggested others do the same beauty treatment.

I never thought yogurt would be a good exfoliator, but then again anything's possible.

So if you have any leftover yogurt and nothing else better to do with your skin, rub it on.

You read it here first.

The English Lesson

My two expat colleagues and I sat in the nosebleed section of the National Stadium, or Bird's Nest last night watching the athletics events for the Paralympics.

We were really impressed by the athletes with disabilities, overcoming many physical obstacles to compete against the best in the world.

As we watched, a group of young Chinese men sat in front of us and soon after one turned around and started chatting up one of my coworkers.

Wearing an army green shirt and silver matte glasses, this guy surnamed Chen was eager to practice his English.

My colleague, just a bit older than this university student, chatted with him for a while, but then really wanted to watch what was going on in the stadium so I was left to carry on the conversation, in a mix of Chinese and English.

Chen asked me as a native English speaker if I could tell the difference between British and American English, in terms of their accents. I said yes, but tried to encourage him, saying he could too if he listened to a lot of oral English.

He shrugged and said they all basically sounded the same to him.

I praised him for his pretty good English, and willingness to strike up a conversation with a stranger, but he said, "That's only for about an hour's practice. It's not enough."

Then what about watching movies, I suggested. Again he explained the dialogue sometimes went so fast he could barely catch what was going on. "You know the movie, The Matrix? All I could hear was, blah blah blah OK... OK was the only thing I could understand."

Soon after our exchange, my two colleagues wanted to leave, worried about a stampede of people leaving the Bird's Nest en masse.

Chen was sad to see us leave, and hoped we'd bump into him again. "I hope you can recognize me!" he exclaimed as we walked down the stairs.

Now that I think about it, his English level is about the same or a bit better than my Chinese.

But he was the one who had guts to start a conversation.

As a friend of mine has told me many times before, "The ones who aren't afraid to ask are the ones who get ahead."

Although Chen feels he's behind compared to some of his peers who managed to go to the University of Toronto to study, he's miles ahead of his friends sitting with him, who were too shy to say anything to us in English.

Running with No Legs

My fellow expat colleagues and I got tickets to watch the Paralympic athletics tonight at the National Stadium, or Bird’s Nest.

The tickets were easy to get – one of my co-workers literally ordered them online, promptly took a taxi to a Bank of China branch and was practically second in line to get them.

But if only getting to the venue today was that easy.

We snuck out of the office half an hour early at 5pm and thought we’d make it in time to watch South Africa’s Oscar Pistorius, also known as “the fastest man with no legs” or “Blade Runner” in the men’s 100m final T44 at 5:52pm.

The taxi took us to the one of the closest entrances, but then we encountered a massive lineup for security checks. On top of that it was raining and we had to dodge umbrellas to avoid being poked in the eye or have rainwater dripping on us.

The lineup snaked up and down; there was no way we’d get into the stadium on time to watch Pistorius. We joked we’d probably see the medal ceremony.

While people periodically complained to the Paralympic volunteers they’d been waiting in line for ages, or that they were getting soaked, the three of us constantly watched the big screen TVs on a tall building near us, broadcasting the events in the stadium.

During the Olympics I don’t remember the lineups being so heavy. Some tried to jump the queue, as volunteers feebly tried to stop them. Perhaps because the Olympics was over that they weren’t as strict, or maybe everyone’s patience was wearing thin with the rain.

But the line would move periodically and you had to follow quickly otherwise others would usurp the empty space in front of you. My colleagues, used to a more civilized lining up procedure were promptly left behind – this was definitely a China experience.

And when it was 5:50pm, I looked up at the screen to see Oscar Pistorius waving to the crowd as he stood near his block. He was the only competitor with two prosthetic legs – everyone else had one.

They got ready at the blocks and then American Jerome Singleton had a false start.

After they got back to the starting line, the gun fired and they were off.

Singleton was up in front and Pistorius way behind. Was he going to make it?

Perhaps it was his running style of coming from behind, or the rain that made him cautious but then more confident, the man with no legs just powered ahead in time to dive for the finish line in first place.

At 11:17 seconds it wasn’t nearly as fast as Usain Bolt, but it was definitely fantastic to watch, albeit outside in the rain in the security lineup.

When we finally made it into the Bird’s Nest, everyone was scrambling for seats because it was free seating. And at practically every entrance to the seating area, volunteers stopped us from going in because they kept saying that area was full.

We had to go up to the nosebleed section and climbed up to the top… just in time to see Pistorius get his gold medal.

And despite many Chinese people’s concerns or naïve preconceptions about Paralympic athletes, everyone in the stadium cheered for the competitors. They were especially loud when the Chinese ones were in the lineup.

A few medals were handed to China and the crowd proudly stood up to sing the national anthem. Some waved flags of various colours, others were eager to pose with a Chinese flag they’d brought with them.

It was great to see everyone appreciating amazing physical feats like blind runners, wheelchair sprinters and those with disabilities doing long jump and shot put, but also celebrating the power of the human spirit – together.

Electing to Stand Up

Hong Kong had its legislative elections this past weekend.

And contrary to political pundits' estimates that pro-Beijing forces would make a sweep, the public decided otherwise.

The pro-democracy camp won 24 of the 60 seats in the Legislative Council, down from 26 in the current legislature.

However, the democrats got 19 of the 30 seats the public could vote for, and five of the 30 chosen by business groups, the professions and labour unions.

That means the pro-democracy groups still have a strong veto power in LegCo.

Sadly though, this election saw the exit of many political heavyweights.

Former Chief Secretary Anson Chan bowed out this time, along with Liberal Party leader James Tien, and Martin Lee.

It's too bad not to see these strong figures on the Hong Kong political scene, but perhaps it's time for the next generation of activists to take on the mantle.

Some say it's the economic downturn that inspired the low-turn out to vote more in favour of pro-democracy politicians, who promised a minimum wage and pledged to reduce pollution.

Others think Hong Kong people are now realizing their identity and are more confident and proud about being Hong Kong Chinese, despite the Chinese government recently trying to create a sense of nationalism with the recent Olympics.

“I don’t feel Hong Kong is a part of China,” said Law Yiu, a 60-year-old Chinese herbal doctor. “The Chinese government is merely using the same tricks with the Hong Kong people as they use with the people in China, giving out periodic sweets to the Hong Kong people in an effort to keep them calm and docile.”

That's why the public is still giving the democrats a fighting chance in LegCo.

Nothing gets by Hong Kong people.