Tales of the Sleepy Town of Ping Yao (population 400,000)

Practicing the ancient art of cheezy, distasteful photography

If I had to use one word to describe my life in PingYao, especially after a week in Beijing, it would have to be "relaxing". Ping Yao is an ancient city about 300 miles southwest of Beijing. The old section has a 6 km (~3.5 mile) wall around it originally built in the 9th century BC out of rammed earth and then rebuilt out of real bricks in the 1300s. Within the walls are a number of well preserved houses and traditional courtyards from the Ming and Qing Dynasties (in case you can't tell from my tone, I'm basiclly copying this from my travel guide). The walls originally were built to keep the barbarians out, but now mostly seem to keep the tourists in, and the real China out. Within the walls were streets lined with empty guest houses, empty restuarants (with English menus) and touristy shops. There were tons of chinese tourists and the occasional foreigner walking the streets.

Keeping in the tourists

Arriving in Ping Yao was a trip in itself. After the train pulled in at 5:30, I was whisked through the streets in our motorbike taxi, my new Japenese friend at my side (with whom I could only chat with in Chinese so our friendship remained at a very simple, undeveloped level, but she was very nice). The outline of the west tower suddenly appeared above us, a ghostly flash in the darkness, as we disappeared through the wall and into the city. The driver wound through the dark barren streets, the weak headlight barely illuminating the numerous potholes just in time for the driver to swerve around them. At one point the driver stopped and, though I didn't see a hostel, I jumped out eagerly with my pack. I then noticed the driver hunched over the front of the bike reading a scrap of paper in the headlight. We were lost. Great, just what I needed.

Luckily, after getting his bearings, the driver eventually found the place and after ten minutes of banging on the pitch black door we were inside. The man who let us in shifted some papers around in a dazed state and then cocked his hands onto his raised hands and said, "You sleep now, pay later." I was happy to oblige.

A couple hours later I made my way downstairs through the traditional courtyard and to the front desk, which was part of the big front room filled with comfy couches, chairs, tables and big windows looking out on the quite street and the city tower. Steve, aformentioned crazy American from Beijing, was at a table eating his "American Breakfast" and gave me a map of Ping Yao and advice of what to see. Like others I met, he wasn't staying there, but just liked hanging out there and eating the western food. As a brief aside (later that day he was apparently seen inapropriately hitting on the young Chinese waitstaff), why can't I just find a nice normal American over here...

I did, though, meet a Finnish guy whom became my tourist buddy for a couple days. Days in Ping Yao consited of: walking the streets; exploring the preserved houses, temples and city walls; stopping in the occasional shop; and drinking beer and chatting with my new friends: a Swede with a thing for midgets (it's a long, good story involving Vegas and "wee man" from Jackass), a Belgian, and the Fin. Occasinally I'd also chat Chinese with my Japanese friend and the hostel staff. I occasionally ventured out of the tourist-filled walls, eliciting many a long hard stare, to get real street food and to make an unsuccesfull attempt at buying a train ticket to Xi'an (there's quite a racket there where you have to buy through the hotels and pay a hefty commision - capatilism at it's best!). Life was good, and very relaxing, but soon felt the itch to move on.

My chinese tutor and I enjoy our kao hong shu (roasted sweet potato)

Stone characters