Impressions of Xi'an - Xiaoyan and the Muslim Quarter

First sightings - Xiaoyan pagoda.  Built around 710 AD.

Much of the city was destroyed as the Tang dynasty fell apart in the tenth century; the two pagodas (Dayan and Xiaoyan) survived.

The Little Wild Goose Pagoda isn't small by any means: the 'little' is relative.  Unlike its larger brother, this pagoda stands in a much more natural setting amidst a sprawling garden.  No granite and fountains here, only shady paths, trees and plenty of birdsong.  It was a haven amidst the bustle of the city and we just sat, stretched our legs and relaxed.

In 1487, the 15-storey pagoda was split by an earthquake/  Appears that it was glued together in the '60s.  

Early portraits

How appropriate!

Next door was a small lake with a more manicured garden.  Geese strutted around waiting to be fed.  Dustbins dotted the garden expanse and they were being used.  There was very little litter, something that struck us again and again in China.  Better civic sense?  The threat of fines?  More efficient cleanup?  Convenient dustbins?  All of the above?  Whatever it was, it seemed to work.  Even the most crowded places we visited were much cleaner than their Indian counterparts.

The Xian museum did not rate any special mention in the guidebooks.  We wandered in for a quick look-see and some air-conditioning (entry was free!).  We ended up spending the better part of an hour walking around.  Apart from the model of tenth century Xian, there were exhibits of items excavated from the vicinity going back some 3000 years.  A profusion of Buddhist relics from the Tang dynasty accompanied remnants of pottery, building materials and other artifacts unearthed as the foundations were laid for today's Xian.  As with other museums we visited in China, everything was neatly laid out and labeled.  Sadly, the contrast with Indian museums was only too evident.

Gilded Bodhisattva from the Tang period

"Gold traced and painted statue of Avalokiteswara".  Northern Zhou dynasty

A stele with Buddhas on all four sides - from the 4th century

The little lake beside the museum

The pagoda, with modern Xi'an behind

We were making our way out of the grounds and almost missed the small building off to one side.  Exhibition on the Cultural Revolution, said a banner.  My wife's  curiosity overcame my reluctance and we went in to take a look.  The exhibits - photographs, a few articles and commentary (in English!) - occupied the corner of a room.  The unequivocal message was this: Chairman Mao was a great man who unified the country and helped drive out the Japanese, but his Cultural Revolution was a big mistake.   

Reformers led by Deng Xiaoping learned from the social and economic chaos caused by the Revolution and initiated the reforms that set China on the path to growth and prosperity.  So there it was in black and white: official acknowledgement that Mao had erred, that Maoism had outlived its usefulness, and that it was time to move on.  Perhaps we need to send Indian Maoists and Marxists to China for some re-education.

Apart from his ubiquitous presence on currency notes and his portrait and mausoleum in Tiananmen Square, Mao was absent in China.  There was plenty of history and culture being resurrected and burnished wherever we went.   It appeared to me, though, that the nominally communist ruling party was gradually airbrushing its communist past out of its history.

The drum tower

Old Chinese cities marked the beginning and end of the day with the chiming of bells and the beating of drums.  (Earlier still, battles were fought only at specified times, and the bells and drums marked the beginning and end of each day's battle: the custom survived the era of wars.)  The well preserved (or well restored) Bell Tower of Xian sits at the heart of the walled city, encircled by a never-ending stream of traffic and surrounded by monumental Soviet style buildings dating from the 1950s.  A short distance away, adjacent to buildings housing McDonalds, Starbucks and Haagen Dazs outlets, sits the (equally well preserved/restored) Drum Tower.  These are large, impressive, structures and hold their own even in their twenty first century surroundings.

The Bell Tower, encircled by the new city

 Exploring the Muslim Quarter

Walk a little further, turn right past a large mall, and you find yourself in a narrow alleyway, dodging scooters and motorized rickshaws.  This is the Muslim Quarter of Xian, another remnant of the time when the city was the terminus of the silk route.  The looks and sounds of the modern city are completely absent here.  We felt we were in some Middle Eastern bazaar.  Shops and restaurants spilt out onto the street.  Mounds of dried fruits and dates filled open sacks.  Skewered kababs awaited their turn in the oven, as did circles of unleavened bread. 

 

The obsessive tidiness of the main thoroughfares was absent here.  The Chinese street signs were the only indication of where we actually were.  The alleyway was too narrow for traffic, but that didn't stop the laden scooters and rickshaws attempting to make their way through the pedestrian crowds.

We came to a junction and turned into another crowded alleyway moving, we hoped, towards the Great Mosque.  There was no sign of any large mosque (or any large structure) anywhere.  More of the same shops, passageways leading to small habitations, bicycles and scooters, the odd tree, but no mosque.  We looked at our map.  It had to be here somewhere, except that there was absolutely nothing anywhere resembling a large green space with a mosque.  We finally stopped and asked for directions.  Sign language and much pointing at the map, in case you were wondering.  As in the rest of Xian, English is limited to the road signs.

We were pointed down an even narrower covered alley, its shops filled with tourist bric-a-brac.  T-shirts featuring Obama and Mao, playing cards with Saddam Hussein's smiling face, the Little Red Book translated into the most unexpected languages, mugs, mats, scarves and much else.  There was none of the competitive hustle and bustle of a true middle-eastern bazaar.  Negotiations were civilized.  If we only wanted to look, no one bothered us.

 
We then came to a gate with a polite gentleman wanting to know where we were from.  He seemed pleased to hear that we were from India.  And, quite unexpectedly, there we were, in the first (of three) courtyard of the Great Mosque.

 

The mosque dates from the eight century, but as with everything else in China, it is difficult to tell what has been restored, added or repaired or whether even any part of the original structure still survives.  That apart, this is a mosque like no other.  This is very Chinese set of buildings and even what passes for a minaret is a Chinese tower.  Arabic calligraphy here and there is the only indication of its purpose.

 

It was quiet and restful inside, with plenty of trees providing shade.  The sounds of the bazaar and the larger city are absent.  The chatter of birds and the distant sound of prayer were the only sounds.

I couldn't help thinking that this place was a kind of terminus.  Islam came this far but, running up against more ancient beliefs, didn't go any further.  These buildings with their syncretism of Chinese styles and Islamic calligraphy marked an outpost.  Today, we are told, there are only about 20,000 Muslims in Xian.  Judging from the white caps and headscarves we saw near the mosque and their absence elsewhere in the city, it looks as though most of them live and do business in this crowded jumble of streets.

  It was past six, the sunlight slowly softening and painting the Bell Tower in mellow hues.  Across, in a large 1950s era edifice, was the post office.  We wanted to send a few postcards and wondered if we were too late.  We needn't have worried.  As elsewhere, pragmatism ruled.  There were others sending parcels, posting letters and sticking stamps on postcards.  People needed to use the post office at this hour, and it was open as a result.  No protests in the People's Republic about long working hours.  (Interestingly, the postcards we sent to the US reached in a week.  The postcards to India took three months.  I wonder why.) 
 

The Xi'an People's Hotel - a communist relic, now under renovation in private hands

To be sure, life is far from perfect in China, but by and large there is a sense that the government's job is to do something for its citizens.  We walked back to our hotel along broad, tree-lined sidewalks, and couldn't help thinking that this small pleasure, a quiet evening stroll, was impossible in our native Chennai.

Impressions of Xi'an - the Dayan Pagoda and Xuanzang

Call me a snob tourist.  I go to a place I'm familiar with, Ooty let's say, and look down with more condescension than is really appropriate at those doing Ooty by the book.  The Lake: check.  Botanical gardens: check.  Doddabetta: check.  The spot where actor x embraced actress y in film z: check.  Tourism by numbers; tourism by the book; tourism meant to assure your neighbours and relatives that yes, you saw everything the guidebooks said there was to see.

And so here I was in Beijing.  Tiananmen Square: check.  The Forbidden City: check.  The Great wall: check.  And justifying ticking off boxes on a checklist by the fact that I wouldn't be visiting again anytime soon.  But isn't that how everyone justifies by-the-numbers tourism?  And isn't there a reason why those tourist checklists exist?

I'd been to Shanghai, in 2011, to attend a conference.  Shanghai isn't a tourist city; it is a place where people do business.  Yes, the Bund has a series of well-preserved art deco buildings, the Pudong skyline is something to behold, and the city boasts a fine museum, but a tourist city it isn't.  Even the murky river is a vehicle for commerce.  The city's aesthetics are all in the service of commerce.  Not so Beijing.  And, most emphatically, not so Xian.

Our flight from Hong Kong was delayed due to bad weather in Beijing.  It was murky when we landed and we assumed that the weather was responsible.  We learned the next day that the famous Beijing pollution was at least partly to blame.

Beijing awes with its sheer size and scale, starting with the airport.  We had to take a train to get from the immigration counters to the baggage claim area, and the ride must have been a good kilometre or more.  The drive into the city is on broad expressways.  We thought of Chennai and felt like country bumpkins visiting the big city.

The area around our hotel could have been in any first world country.  Fancy malls, luxury goods outlets, Audis and BMWs on the streets.

Beijing West Station, though, was large, very crowded and distinctly second world (unlike the posh and super modern airport).  That said, it was functional and, given the crowds, surprising orderly and clean.  The crowds using the loos are as large as any in India, but the olfactory assault was much less in evidence.  There was no incentive to search the neighbourhood for a suitable wall/tree to commit nuisance against.

The uncrowded platform

Our tickets were checked against our passports (you need an ID to buy a train ticket, and the ID number is printed on the ticket) and our baggage scanned.  You cannot get into the concourse without the ticket/baggage check.  The crowds notwithstanding, the process was efficient.  We then found that each train is assigned one of several large waiting areas, each with stalls selling snacks, newspapers and magazines and the like.  The passengers varied in looks from country bumpkin to sophisticate, their luggage from Samsonite to cloth bundles slung over shoulders.  Apart from eateries serving Chinese dishes, McDonalds and KFC had outlets, and we settled for the known over the unknown: McDonalds.

There were trains to various cities in Western China including Lhasa.

Our train was eventually announced about half an hour prior to departure and we queued up for another ticket check before being allowed onto the platform where our train was waiting.

A simple idea this: passengers (and only passengers) are allowed onto their designated platform a short while before their train departs.  This means that the platforms themselves are uncrowded, that people can get into trains without pushing and shoving and, perhaps best of all, that the platforms are clean. 

It occurred to me that the station had been designed keeping this flow of passengers in mind.  Someone, somewhere, had thought about this, perhaps studied stations and airports both in China and elsewhere (other than India!), and worked out one way of handling large numbers of passengers.

Our own Central Station, grand edifice though it is, is a nineteenth century building functioning without alterations in the twenty first century.  While new airports are coming up around the country, our stations remain firmly anchored in the past.

Our train, the Z19 non-stop to Xian, was nothing fancy (something between our 1st and 2nd AC in terms of amenities) but clean, well maintained and functional.  There were friendly nods from our co-passengers.  They spoke no English, we spoke no Chinese, and, nods done with, we settled down to mind our own business.  The 1200 km was covered overnight in 11 hours and the ride was smooth; we left exactly on time and got in to Xian exactly on time.  Impressive.  There were no unscheduled stops: no waking up in the middle of the night to find the train stationary and the horn blaring plaintively.

Our first sight of Xi'an - the old city wall abutting the station!

Xian, the capital of China from around 220 BC to around 900AD, is a mixture of the old, the very old, plenty of tired remnants of the Mao era, and the distinctly new.  A well-maintained Ming era city wall (ringed with gardens and a moat) surrounds central Xian, and this was the first thing we saw as we left the station.  Trees line the roads and while the bustle and traffic of a large city was always present, there was equally this feeling of being in a human city.  After murky Beijing, it was a pleasure to be in bright, clear sunshine.  And perhaps because of the sunshine, the people looked more cheerful as well.  I had read about aggressive touts lying in wait for tourists, but getting to the authorized taxi stand was painless.  There was the obligatory five minutes of mutual incomprehension, but the driver eventually figured out where we wanted to go and dropped us off at the hotel.

The old and the new

Clamped!  And on the sidewalk

Walking around, one got the distinct feeling that today's pleasant Xian might soon lose its character and become an anonymous large modern city.  The main roads are already those of a modern city: broad, with huge sidewalks (used quite frequently to park cars!) and manicured trees, bordered by monumental buildings including offices, shopping malls and, in some places, well preserved examples of communist era grandeur. 

Get off these avenues, though, and you enter a different Xian: smaller scaled, more intimate, shabbier and more human.  It is a bit like taking a trip back in time, but time measured in decades rather than centuries.  You see the Xian of the '80s, then, as you poke your head into a smaller alleyway, the '70s and perhaps even earlier.  Little restaurants and shops line the streets, the trees give more shade, there is the occasional bit of broken pavement and uncleared rubbish and there are people standing in the doorways and chatting.  Not quite India, but we felt at home.  

Lunch time worker recreation?

Every now and then, though, something distinctly Chinese happened.  We paused outside a restaurant attempting to make sense of the menu when loudspeakers suddenly burst into life.  The music was familiar, and it took us a moment to place it: the Gangnam Style.  Next, a bunch of waiters in uniform stepped out and started a synchronized dance on the pavement.  We gaped, but no one else around seemed to think there was anything unusual in all of this, and carried on with whatever they were doing.  A couple of days later, we again saw something similar: a bunch of elderly street workers doing stylized dance steps on a busy pavement, this time to revolutionary music from the Mao era.  Once more, passers by carried on as though this was completely normal.

Did you know that?

Dayan Pagoda

 Xian was where the silk route began, and its best known sights reflect that history.  A couple of kilometres south of the city walls, surrounded by a large granite plaza, fountains and shopping malls with mock traditional facades, is the Dayan Pagoda, also known as the Big Wild Goose Pagoda.  In the early seventh century, a monk named Hiuen Tsiang (Xuanzang) made his way along the silk route to Taxila and thence eastward to Gaya, looking for original Buddhist scriptures.  The pagoda was built on his return to house these scriptures.  The 64 meter high structure would be impressive under any circumstance.  The fact that the wherewithal to build something like this existed 1400 years ago, and the fact that it has survived wars, earthquakes and the depredations of age make it even more special.  Yes, it has been repaired and restored over the years.  But today's structure is, in essence, what was originally built in the Tang dynasty.  

Our first views, with the newly added fountains

The walls of the monastery with added historical carvings

Goose bump moment.  Here was a connection between India and China

The massive bell

Equally massive drum

We climbed up and were rewarded with fine views of the modern city.  Only two manuscript fragments (in a script we could not decipher) are displayed in the pagoda; the rest (those that have survived the years) are now housed in museums.

The manuscript fragment

A functioning Buddhist monastery lies adjacent to the towers.  A couple of buildings were being restored.  A fair crowd of respectful worshippers moved through the buildings, offering incense and prayers at the numerous altars.  Godless communism in China appears to be increasingly tolerant of religion.  Or perhaps it was just another manifestation of Chinese pragmatism: do whatever it takes to bring the tourists in.

Something had been bothering me as we walked around the pagoda and its surroundings.  This clearly was an important structure.  Why, then, had it been built well outside the city walls? 

We got the answer later that afternoon in the basement of the Xian museum.  A large wooden reconstruction of the city as it was in the ninth century occupied much of a large basement room.  The city then boasted more than a million inhabitants and the Tang era city walls enclosed a much larger area than the surviving Ming era wall. 

As we emerged out of Dayan, this is what we saw! 

Will be continued...