Becky Goes to China

Nanjing. I’ve only been here for a day, but it’s already been a fairly wild experience, full of culture, natural beauty and general craziness.

We began the day at Sun Yat-sen’s mausoleum, which is situated at the top of a beautiful mountain park. It was raining the whole time. There were shops selling umbrellas as we walked up to the mausoleum, and Chen Ji talked them down to 10 quai each for all of us – roughly $1.50. Despite the rain, the whole thing was lovely, possibly even prettier because of it, with Nanjing disappearing into the mist and colorful umbrellas dotting the stairs below.

Next was the Japanese Massacre Memorial, which memorializes the “Rape of Nanjing” in which the Japanese killed 300,000 Chinese. It is a somber and haunting place. The location was chosen because it was the site where some 10,000 murdered Chinese were buried in a hasty mass grave. The site is partially excavated, with skeletons visible and recovered artifacts such as ladies’ hair pins on display in the adjacent museum.

After the memorial, our bus dropped us off at the Confucius Temple markets, where 10,000+ there are shops to explore. I found some gifts for friends and family here. I was particularly proud of myself for getting one vendor from 130 quai down to 45 quai for an item that was actually pretty important for me to acquire since it was on my list before I even left Denver.

One of the best experiences in the market was the discovery of a tiny tea shop filled with high quality local tea. Our entire group squeezed inside and the proprietors sat us down and started pouring samples of the best teas I’ve ever had. Prices here were not negotiable, but we all spent money here anyway.

After the markets, the bus dropped us off at our hotel and we were left to our own devices for the rest of the evening. Jillyn and I decided to explore a Xuawen Lake Park, which is just a block or two from the hotel.

This is possibly one of my favorite places that I’ve visited in China so far. It’s not particularly special or meaningful in a historical context, but after all of the jostling and noisiness of Beijing and the constant come-ons from market vendors, finding this quiet, peaceful place was amazing. We took our time – another thing that doesn’t happen often on this trip – wandering past beds of tall red poppies and roses, brides on a Sunday photo shoot, couples cuddling on lakeside benches. A set of rough stone stairs spiraled up a ten-foot hill. A father coached his son who ran through the grass trying to launch a kite with the widest smile you ever saw. We watched the sun as it began to set over the Nanjing skyline.

We wandered out of the park to find dinner. This is more difficult than in Beijing since many fewer people speak English. Menus are less likely to have English translations, and sometimes have no photos to which we can point. The site of Jillyn and I walking down a Nanjing street caused an entire road work crew to stop, stare and comment to their buddies about us.

On the way back to the hotel, I tripped in the street and fell hard. My palms were scraped and bleeding. My arm has some long scratches, and my knee is a mess of red carpet burn where it encountered friction with my blue jeans. I came back, cleaned myself up, and decided to start taking my “just-in-case” Cipro course to help keep my cuts from getting infected. Who knows what foreign nastiness lurks in the dusty streets of Nanjing?

You would think this would mean I’m in for the night, right? You would be wrong. This is China, and we’re here to see everything. Nanjing is home to one of the world’s tallest buildings, and the whole group decided to go see if there was an observation deck or a bar inside where we could have a few drinks and watch the city lights below. The plan was thwarted, however, when it turned out that the towers were closed. We ended up having a good English conversation with one of the managers of the hotel in the building (it doesn’t open to the public until the 26th or 28th, I don’t remember which). They were all very sweet about a bunch of giggly, clueless foreign girls suddenly showing up on their doorstep, though they were very firm on not letting us in. The manager recommended a bar where the staff liked to go, flagged down some taxis for us and instructed the cabbies where they should take us.

The bar ended up being Paulaner Breuhaus – a German brewpub with a sort of Pleasure Island Disney-esque cover band and dancing patrons. Most of the songs were Western, including Volare and Tom Jones’ Kiss. Tanya and Kelly danced and attracted the attention of some drunk Chinese guys who decided to invite our group to join their table. We turned them down, and headed back to the hotel not long after that.

This morning I woke up early and decided to test out my sore knees by going out for a walk. I knew there was a patisserie just around the corner, and maybe I would find some of the Chinese magazines I wanted for my project. I stumbled across a street vendor selling some dumplings for just 1 quai each and found my magazines. It’s probably my favorite moment in China, this simple solo walk to find breakfast the same way the locals do. Nanjing has meant more to me than Beijing because this is where I actually got a sense of what it is to live a Chinese life in the city. You walk out in the morning, grab a dumpling from the vendor on the corner, maybe pick up a magazine. You head off to work in the most ordinary way.

Company visits today, and I’m told maybe dinner at a floating restaurant on the Yangtze River. Gotta go catch the bus.