This day we would go to two museums (one history, one art) and a famous Buddhist pagoda temple, the Wild Goose Pagoda.
Thunk picked me up at the lobby and we greeted the driver as I entered the van. It was a beautiful day slightly warmer than the day before. We headed into the Shaanxi History Museum (Shaanxi is the district in which the city of Xian resides; think of districts as the equivalent of states in the US and Xian is a major city).
Me posing at lion statue at entrance into Shaanxi Museum
Thunk explained the most important relics, he pointed out the significance of the pottery and stoneware before me. He advised me when to take pictures of things that were rare. He explained the history of the silk road and the story of Zhang Qian, the first from China to be sent out by Emperor Wu to establish the Silk Road. I witnessed the beginning uses of colored and glazed porcelain in the Tang Dynasty and heard a story on why during Tang's rule all the women were plump (his wife was plump and so women thought it was a sign of attractiveness). I saw incredibly detailed sculptures and chariots and weapons. It was a lot to take in. Some of the things I knew that impressed Thunk such as the Warring States period, certain battles between dynasties, and some geography all which I learned in my short book of Chinese history that I read.
"Wow," he said, "you know a lot."
Actually, I knew very little and recalled the vaguest facts but the fact he said that showed how few people he had met as foreigners that knew a lick about the country.
Life-size statue of Zhang Qian
We left to go to an art museum where I learned to paint calligraphy horribly and was shown different works and styles of Chinese painting. A young girl in her late teens, perhaps early 20's showed me around. It was clear it was a family owned place and they sent her to me because her English was best.
"You're traveling alone?," she asked at one point, the question I've gotten many times since I've arrived here and would encounter even more often in my vacation travels.
"Yes, just me." I replied sheepishly. I never had a problem going out on my own doing things before but in China it's popular to always travel in groups of friends so it's unusual to them and even though I know this the question still always makes me self-conscious.
"Wow," she said, "You are very brave." Another usual reply.
"We came upon two paintings. One abstract black and white with bamboo sticks, the other a man on a horse riding through nature. My phone died at this point so I was unable to take photos but both were stunning.
"Which one do you think was the hardest to make?" my guide asked.
"Well, I want to say the one with the guy on the horse, but you'll probably tell me I'm wrong because it's an obvious choice."
"This painting, if you make a mistake," she pointed to the nature-y one, "you can paint over it and fix it. You see with your eyes and you paint.
But this one," she pointed to the black and white bamboo its black poles with white splashes indicuating quick and intricate brushstrokes "It is harder because you have to feel it. You have to see the bamboo, be the bamboo," she said, "and when you feel it, you paint. That is why this one is harder."
If ever a moment felt so beautiful but so cliche of all the films I've ever watched on Asian mysticism I felt like this was that cinematic moment.
We left the art museum and suddenly I was starving.
I had feasted on McDonald's mostly since I had arrived because I could not find a restaurant that served menus that weren't in Chinese writing and at least had pictures. I had went to one restaurant one afternoon that was in a building and it was called American Restaurant but when I went in the staff at the door all fidgeted around and stared at me and giggled nervously trying to figure out what to say, till I asked in Chinese "Can I not eat here?" They then found someone that spoke a little bit of English to seat me and he asked me a few short questions and I answered in short, terse Mandarin answers enough to make him think I was apparently fluent because after he took my order he walked back towards the staff and said "She speaks Chinese" in Mandarin. The food was great and indeed was western-style, but it was pricey as most western-style restaurants are and I didn't want that uncomfortable feeling again.
Before I had left a teacher at my school asked me where I was vacationing and tried to take down some information for me to help my travels. Information that came in useful such as how to talk to the hotel staff and say things "I'm checking in," "I'm checking out," "I have a reservation," "what is my room number?," "I'm paying with....." (which my notebook came in EXTREMELY handy when I found out the description of English speaking staff at my hotel was false) and also traditional Chinese dishes. I asked Thunk about this dishes. One was cold noodles (Liang Pi), another was Chinese hamburger (Rou Jia Mo) and the last was mutton and soup (yang rou paomo). The last at which Thunk grimaced.
"That is a really heavy dish. I haven't even had that and I am native [to Xian]. It is a traditional dish but I wouldn't recommend it. I don't think you'll like it."
We then decided to go to a place for the Chinese hamburger and some noodles which was delicious and filling and we headed to the Wild Goose Pagoda.
The Wild Goose Pagoda is basically in the midst of a Buddhist temple. I saw monks and devouts walking around bowing. Thunk explained the history of Buddhism, the concepts of Tao both of which revealed to me that he was a Buddhist as he kept saying "We believe" and "We do this." There were beautiful golden figures of the many faces of Buddha which he explained to me what each one meant. The roads smelled of fragrant, powerful incense. It smelled so nice when we passed a shop selling it, I inquired about perhaps purchasing some to take home.
"You can't do that. You have to burn it here," Thunk said. I then realized that it's the equivalent of Catholics lighting a candle in front of the cross at the altar and someone asking to take one of the candles home and suddenly felt kind of silly....
There were many murals on the wall telling the story of Shakyamuni, a Buddhist monk responsible for bringing Buddhism to China from his exploits in India.
A piece of his skull was being held in one of the temples in a small golden framed glass container. I saw a Chinese tour guide talking to a group of Chinese tourists. An old man asked a question and was answered. He walked up to the fragment and kneeled, bowing multiple times before it. I felt odd as moments before I had just taken a photo of it like it was some fascinating object but to these people it was a seriously holy thing to behold.
The fragment bone of Shakyamuni's skull
Close up of fragment
We finally came upon the giant pagoda itself which Thunk told me it was empty because of an earthquake that happened many years ago. The building actually split in half and then was brought back together with a crack down the middle and was in one piece.We walked to the North section of the area where there was an area of water fountains and children splashing about in the streams shooting up from the ground. The area was decorated with red and gold decorations for Chinese New Year and people sat and sold tourist items.
Me posing with a statue of Shakyamuni Me at the water fountain in north section of WGP
After that we headed back to the car and I was driven to the airport to catch my flight. Thunk asked me questions about my gate and flight which I answered. I tipped Thunk graciously when he dropped me off at the ticket counter.
"Thank you so much. I had a really incredible time." I said. "If you don't mind, may I take your picture? For when I write about this moment, I want to remember everything I did."
"Of me?" he said shocked and flattered, "Sure!"
This is Thunk.
Later as I waited for my flight, I got a text about 20 minutes before my flight was supposed to depart.
"Hey, this is Thunk! Just to let you know your gate number changed. You probably already know but just wanted to be sure you didn't miss your flight."
It was unexpected. He had my number in case there was anything wrong with the booking or tour schedule from the agency but once he dropped me off he was under no obligation to help me further in getting home. I was grateful as I had my headphones in and did not realize the gate had changed and they were just boarding when I got to the correct gate.
I couldn't respond then as my phone was too low on money to respond and would only let me receive texts, but when I refilled it the next day I text him a nice thank you to which he replied "Nevermind, (the Chinese say this often to mean "don't worry about it" which took some getting used to) I'm glad you got home okay. If you ever come back again to Xian I would be happy to be your guide again!"
What turned out to be somewhat disappointment when I first arrived to this city judging it from its outwardly appearance then turned out to be the best experience I had since I got here once I got to know it's heart. And so a little piece of me will always love Xian.
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