Western Peace

Picking a topic to post about is usually what keeps me from writing them more often. Do I go on and on about the welcome surprise of Nanjing, the southern capital? Should I compare the Nanjing Massacre Memorial to other war and atrocity memorials that I have seen? Would it be better to accurately describe the wrangles of using China's public transportation system that is simultaneously hopelessly inadequate but so much better than private transport? What about getting scammed by tourists, stared and pointed as a foreigner, or Chinese cuisine that has almost no relation to the American variety? Everything deserves to be told in its own way, but when I sit down and start filtering through my own memories, I get lost in trying to comprehend everything that has happened in such a small amount of time.

That said, Xi'an gets the prize this time. If Xi'an rings a bell, that's because it is home to one of China's most famous tourist attractions and one of the world's great archaeological finds, the Army of Terracotta Warriors. Other attractions include the old city walls, the elegant and preserved bell and drum towers (Chinese cities have bell and drum towers like old European cities have churches or cathedrals), another ancient imperial tomb, and over seven million people running everything. Taken from a more historical aspect, Xi'an is much more important than other cities most could name in China long Hong Kong or Beijing. It's name, by the way, means 'western peace', a tribute to its long, long history as a capital city.

While the Terracotta Warriors were truly a spectacle, as were the better designed tombs whose name I cannot remember, what I found best about Xi'an is its ancient Muslim quarter. In the center of Xi'an, itself in the center of China, lives a healthy and vibrant community of Chinese Muslims, as opposed to either non-religion or Buddhism in the rest of the country. Islam made its way to Xi'an hundreds of years ago via one of the world's most famous trade routes, the Silk Road. As a road that's thousands of miles long and thousands of years old, it's strange to give it a starting point as definite as Xi'an, but so it is. Silk manufactured throughout southeast Asia would make its slow way to Xi'an where other traders would buy it and make their way west to the Roman, Austro-Hungarian, and Ottoman Empires. Other traders would head to Xi'an to sell their wares and of course brought their culture and religion along with them.

What is left there today is incredible given the recent struggles of the Cultural Revolution and the relative homogeneity of Chinese culture despite whatever they say about the 56 protected minorities. The streets are full, like most streets are, but here it is different. Huge piles of halal meat are gathered, kebabed, and barbecued on the street. Hundreds of people gather around any of the stalls or restaurants to eat a few dozen sticks of lamb or beef. Other vendors spin sugar to make something very much like cotton candy, or there are little steaming tins filled with personally designed cookies. The air is full of scents and smoke and it feels organic. Few places in China are lacking crowded places, but here it is easier to stand back and watch it happen. Out of all the places I visited during spring break, here I got the least attention because of my foreigner status.

Also, if you should ever go there yourself, make sure to pay a visit to the mosque. To get there, take a left down a small alley way filled with tourist vendors. These people will sell you anything and everything and cry over every RMB (the Chinese currency) you bargain down. Lots of the trinkets look interesting, most are fake, some are not, but not every piece of tin came from the Qin dynasty. I'll believe that a lot of pieces of tin were pounded out then, but I will doubt that they all managed to make their way to this one small street. As you walk, you will doubt that your are headed anywhere. Keep going. Eventually, another alley will open to your left with a long, nondescript wall running its length.

Embedded within this wall is a small woman who will happily sell you a ticket and direct you to the wooden door that opens up to the other side of this wall. Inside you will find a haven that is not entirely Chinese but a far cry from Arabic. This is the mosque of the Chinese, quiet, gardened, tranquil and wholly separated from the city beyond it. Despite its status as a tourist sight, the mosque was still very solemn and the most religious places off limits to non-Muslims. I can respect that. The Buddhist temples that abound Asia are also tourist sights, but they are so overrun with people and function so differently that is hard to the reverence surrounding the Buddha. I spent an hour, maybe two, resting and strolling. Leaving was hard to do, not only because the mosque itself was beautiful with temples and residences of tiled and decorated roofs characteristic of ancient China, but outside was the rest of this big, busy world. I welcome, and need, such respites.