I was on a tight time schedule because naturally I wanted to see the pandas the day after climbing 峨眉山, so I decided to start climbing from a third of the way up the mountain. There are buses that take you to different starting points on the mountain- most tourists decide to get the bus straight to the peak. I scorned at this idea at the time but learned too late that this was probably the most sensible option. In order to make it up the trail in a day I started walking before sunrise. At the beginning the going was easy – a light fog, cool weather and steps of a reasonable incline. After an hour of steps I was beginning to regret my decisions and started doubting whether my body and mind was up for another 9 hours of climbing. I stopped for some noodles and while I was waiting for the noodles I struck up a conversation with some Chinese pilgrims. They were happy to see a ‘foreigner’ visiting and were impressed by the progress I had made thus far. I guess I walked faster since when climbing they would kneel, place their forehead on the ground, stand back up and continue walking after every 3 steps. By comparison I had nothing to complain about!

As I started walking again I was joined by a group of 7 young Chinese people living and working around Sichuan who had decided to check out 峨眉山 during their winter break. They gave me renewed courage to continue with their constant “加油’s”! Learning about what everyone did gave a welcome distraction to the climbing. After another hour of climbing the temperature had dropped well below 0C and it started snowing. Within the hour all the evergreens bowed under the weight of the snow and ice and arched over the pathways. Within 2 hours we were walking ankle deep in snow. We climbed for a total of 10 hours, with a few breaks for food along the way. Once we reached the top we were greeted by hordes of Chinese tourists playing in the snow (many Sichuanese having never seen snow before) and we decided to stay a night on the peak so we could see the sunrise in the morning.

It was at this point I regretted not having walked faster so I could have got the bus back down at the end of the day. The outside temperature was about -15C and the inside temperature about -5C owing to the fact that places South of the Yellow River don’t have central heating. We shared a big room of 4 beds and all just lay in bed complaining about how cold it was. One of my favourite sentences in Chinese came in very useful: “我快要冻死了!” By the morning all the water in the room had frozen solid and I discovered a new ‘hate’: frozen socks! (I thought putting on wet socks was bad….) We awoke for the sunrise and all got the bus back down to town together and watched as the snow dissipated the lower down the mountain we got. In all, it was one of the most challenging holidays I have had in a while but one of the most rewarding! I missed the pandas but I made some new QQ friends, reignited my faith in the beauty of China and am 1 sacred Buddhist Mountain down with 3 more to go!

Related Vocabulary

爬山 páshān – Climb a mountain

寺庙 sìmiào – Temple

山顶 shāndǐng – Mountain peak

“加油!” jiāyóu! – “Come on!”

峨眉山 Éméishān – Mount Emei

“我快要冻死了!” Wǒ kuàiyào dòng sǐle! – “I’m freezing to death!”

[This story was contributed by LtL staff member Daniel Greeves]

After getting kitted up and preparing ourselves against the cold our instructor (教练) helped us stretch and taught us the essentials , most importantly how to stop, before unleashing us upon the other skiers. Some of us took to it better than others (check Facebook for some pictures of everyone in the snow!) and by the end of the day some of our teachers were going down the middle slopes. We all skied for 4 hours straight and I think it is safe to say that everyone was feeling it afterwards. Our apologies to all students who had classes on Monday morning if your teacher moved a little slowly!

On our way back to the city centre we once again played 杀人游戏 with the same intensity as before skiing even after 4 hours of trudging up hills and falling down them. We all had dinner (traditional Chinese all you can eat pizza buffet) and customarily ended up in KTV where the teachers astounded us with their singing (in both Chinese and English might I add) and where Mike entertained everyone with his repertoire of Chinese songs. All in all, a great day out- everyone had fun and fortunately for our students we didn’t lose any teachers to skiing accidents!
 

Useful Vocabulary:

Snow: 雪 (Xuě)

Skiing: 滑雪 (Huáxuě)

Frostbite: 冻伤 (Dòngshāng)

‘Killer’ (Game): 杀人游戏 (Shārén yóuxì)

Sports instructor/trainer: 教练 (Jiàoliàn)

Pizza: 披萨 (Pī sà)

Chinese song: 中文歌 (Zhōngwén gē)

[This story was contributed by LtL staff member Daniel Greeves]

Fortunately, within the week these problems had righted themselves. My host family were fantastic, not just for my Chinese but in looking after me. The smell turned out to be the smell of dinner, and having tasted it I pretty quickly began to love the smell, following the delicious aromas to the kitchen to enquire what they came from and practice my Chinese. Meeting Chinese people and making friends turned out to be a side-effect of practising my Chinese. Once I realised I could just start conversations with anyone, no matter how basic, I discovered that what I thought was a dissaproving glare (seen in old Chinese people wherever you go) turned out to be curiosity, a smile and a greeting makes the most stern looking Chinese person beam radiantly and start talking excitedly. I went on holiday three times with my host family, to the Buddhist holy mountains of WuTaiShan (for which I temporarily converted to Buddhism as a conversation piece), to Xi’an (where I was unwittingly lured into giving an Elvis impression to over a hundred old Chinese pensioners), to Sichuan (where in two weeks I, probably forever, ruined my digestion).

The biggest lesson I have learnt in China is to just go for it. No-one in China is standing still, everything is always moving, always shifting, and if you want something, just do it! Want to practice Tai Chi? Just find some old ladies in  a park and ask if you can join in. Want to find an obscure item? Just ask anyone, from the taxi drivers to the security guards outside the building. Want to try/learn about Chinese tea ceremony? Just go to a tea shop and ask questions. Chinese people are invariably helpful and generous, and speaking Chinese is a sure ticket into any Chinese person’s heart.

[This story was contributed by LtL Immersion student Gibson]

In the United States, we see grandmothers and grandfathers on the buses, in the grocery stores, at family picnics, in nursing homes, in our offices and volunteering in museums. Some live highly social, sometimes professional, lives; some wile away lonely days in seclusion. Never, however, have I seen people with silver-tinged hair congregate in public spaces in such numbers as I regularly observe in China.

In my past few weeks in Beijing, wherever I have found a large space, I have found elderly people engaged in public activities. From my bedroom window I can look down into the courtyard of my residential community. Sometimes, I see grandparents accompanying children to the pond or on a walk over the little footbridge; frequently, however, they are gathered without children on the benches, engaged in conversation. In Wangfujing, a crowded, popular tourist spot, I find a corner, upon whose benches (and around and hovered above which) are huddled some twenty men with wizened fingers and sharp eyes, engaged in an animated chess game. And anywhere there is a park, amongst the sleepy weeping willow trees whose leaves just brush the lotus flowers floating quietly on the pond waters, I am met with the scene of at least one aged person engaged in some sort of exercise–perhaps tai chi, their slow movements reflecting the peacefulness of the ambience, or perhaps playing the pipa, its ancient notes inviting the ears of passersby old and young.

And then there are the simple machines scattered about the city in the most random of places, their bright blues, greens, and reds appearing in public parks, residential communities, on dusty curbs near subway stations and in front of auto body shops.  And these metal monstrosities, some of them shiny and some of them peeling and old, are well-used, as people with balding and greying heads swing from, stretch upon, and resist against them in these public places. However, the spectacles that put me most in awe are the mass choruses, the mass dancing groups, and the mass performance groups.

A football game in Beijing starts with what all good things in Beijing start with: 羊肉串儿 (yáng ròu chuàn ér – lamb skewers) and 燕京 (yàn jīng) beer on gongtibeilu next to the Beijing Guo An Home Stadium: 工人体育场 (gōng rén tǐ yù chǎng – the Workers Stadium).

The waitress must have been the only person not wearing a green Guo An shirt and there was certainly no one who dared to wear anything blue (that would be Henan Jian Ye’s colour). As a foreigner wearing a green shirt with the Guo An logo, I was given a free pack of cigarettes and plenty of affection. Having tickets for stand Number 5, where season ticket holders and hard core fans assemble did seem to give me plenty of street credit too. Arriving in the stadium early is important, as every ticket does have a seat assigned to it, although actually trying to take this is considered very bad style.

Once inside, the atmosphere is quite heated and everyone seems to be  老北京 (lǎo běi jīng – an old Beijinger). As the stadium fills, signs with how to swear at the Henanese are held up: 骗子 (piàn zǐ – liars/cheaters) comes up a lot, but the overriding theme of the night is : 偷井盖儿的贼 (tōu jǐng gài ér de zéi  – stealing manhole covers thieves). I am told there have been some recent reports in Beijing about gangs from Henan stealing manhole covers and selling them as scrap metal – a not very popular activity with the local Beijing population that should not go unpunished.

Before the game the national anthem is played, probably the only two minutes of the evening where a person from Henan would have felt comfortable in the stadium. Despite the manhole cover issue they are still Chinese after all. The game starts on time at 19:30 and Guo An quickly scores the first goal, after which for the first and only time I actually heard a cheer I would be used to from Europe: 国安必胜 (guó ān bì shèng  – Guo An must win).

Then it’s straight back to swearing at the Henanese：抓贼抓贼，偷井盖儿的贼 (zhuā zéi zhuā zéi ，tōu jǐng gài ér de zéi  – catch the thief, catch the thief, the manhole cover stealing thief). After about 10 minutes three people wearing black shirts were identified as probably being from Henan and suddenly found 30,000 people pointing and screaming at them – they left the stadium in a rather hurried manner.

By halftime Beijing is still up 1:0 and the mood is good. In general the fans seem to be slightly less concerned with the game though and more preoccupied with having their own fun. People coming up with imaginative ways of shouting abuse at the Henanese (there don’t seem to actually be in the stadium) seem to get as much appreciation as the goalkeeper for making a good save.

Beijing wins the game 3:0 and remains second after Guangzhou in the league. With some 40,000 people leaving the stadium, one can hear the best songs and swearwords of the evening being sung throughout the Sanlitun area. Despite all the swearing and abuse, it was interesting to see that Beijing football fans appear much less physically aggressive than in most other countries. There were no fights and even the most hardcore supporters seemed to actually be mainly university students or recent graduates, working as doctors and lawyers during the daytime and letting off a bit of steam on a Saturday evening.

While walking home I start to think it may not have only been about the Henanese and lost manhole covers after all, but just as much about a few other issues that one is not allowed to scream about as loudly in China.

[This story was contributed by LtL Director Andreas Laimboeck]