Goodbye Urumqi, Hello Xi’an!

Thursday, August 26th, 2010 in: News

If I’ve talked to you before about my desire to travel to China, I’ve probably mentioned Huashan, the crazy mountain hike that is google’s number 1 hit for “China Death Trail.” The soaring, sheer cliffs and steep paths carving their way through one of Taoism’s five sacred mountains is one of the few (read: only) things I managed to research before I left home this year, and said “I’m definitely doing that!”

In order to get to Huashan, I had to go to Xi’an, starting point for the Silk Road and one of the few remaining Chinese cities with the distinction of still maintaining its original walls used to protect it, although the city itself had long since outgrown the boundaries of the wall, which was mostly just a large landmark. It made sense for us to fly straight from Urumqi to Xi’an, saving ourselves a day on the road. Our luck with the trains had proven shaky at best, so one of the first things we did was buy tickets out. Our plan was to stay two nights in the hostel, with one night on Huashan in between, then take a night train back to Beijing. We did just that, but it didn’t all go according to plan…

The airport limousine comfortably took us to the city center, circumnavigating the circling vultures trying to push us into their cabs. I’d read that it was a 150 kuai cab ride, and they were quoting almost twice that. We found ourselves standing out in front of the Bell Tower, and to our surprise, unable to flag down a cab. They all assured us it was only a kilometer down the road, despite our map saying differently. I realized they were holding out for bigger fares, and weren’t willing to give up their prime location near the tourist trap heart of the city to drive a couple of foreigners a measly 3km.

So we walked it, arriving at the 7 Sages Youth Hostel, grateful for the chance to free ourselves from the oppressive weight of our backpacks. Having just come from the far west, Xi’an felt very much like a typical Northeastern Chinese city, but it had a milder climate and a slightly more laid-back atmosphere, at least as far as we could tell from our little stroll. The hostel was based out of an old style courtyard house, which created a very pleasant atmosphere. The dorms were comfortable and spacious, and ours had its own private bathroom. We were sharing with a Spanish couple and two Chinese guys. None of them were terribly forthcoming, keeping the friendly banter to a bare minimum. The hostel had its own small bar and restaurant, where internet access flowed a little more freely than the alcohol. A couple of white cats loitered around the courtyard, begging for scraps and chin-scratches; inside the bar I found a box full of kittens which kept me occupied for longer than I’m willing to admit.

We went to the train station nearby to get our tickets to Huashan, and to establish our escape route a couple days thereafter. The ticket counters were swarmed with people, but the train company had foreseen their customers’ propensity for pushing into lines, and made the lanes just barely passable for one person at a time. We successfully got our bullet train tickets to Huashan, but could only get hard sleepers on the train home. “It’s ok, we can bu piao (upgrade our tickets) when we board the train,” Dan reassured me. Immediately after securing our tickets, the counter unexpectedly closed despite the long long of people waiting behind us, the poor bastards. Outside the ticket office, I kept one hand on my hip bag and the other hand grasping my iphone in my pocket. I’d been warned about people in Xi’an, especially around touristy areas and the train stations. I wasn’t going to let that happen to me, surely.

Surely.

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