Seoul, South Korea - A Brilliant Surprise

Above: Old and new City Hall, Seoul, South Korea

Sungmi was talking about her oldest sister, "When she was in school, everyone was poor but they encouraged the children to learn how to save money.  Each child was required to open a savings account at school and put in as much money as they could every month."

Sungmi is in her early thirties, but she has two older sisters, one eight years her senior, the other five.  Their experiences growing up in South Korea were very different than hers.  "Then, after a year or two, the President took all of the school childrens' money everywhere in the country.  He said it was to build a dam for the people.  Years later, we learned he kept the money for himself."

We collected money, too, when I was growing up in the shadow of the Korean War.  On Halloween, we carried small, orange, waxed cardboard UNICEF cubes with a slot on top so that as we made our candy rounds, we would hold the box out for spare pennies and dimes, for the starving children in South Korea.  We would turn the boxes in at school.

Less than a generation later, South Korea's miracle, transitioning from a military dictatorship that took power in the 1960s in the aftermath of the devastating war, to a modern, prosperous democracy, is hard to understand, but easy to see.  Seoul, a twenty-first century megapolis of over 25 million people, is clean, modern and efficient, the most wired city in the world.  The subway system is fast, safe, ubiquitous, and inexpensive.  Street crime barely exists, not even pickpockets.

For Sungmi, the transition to ultra-modernity and prosperity allowed her to attend Columbia University and obtain a master's degree in Political Science.  This was no small accomplishment as Korean education is built upon intense competition and endless hard work and only the very top students make it into the best universities.  And only a select few of them get into graduate schools in the United States, much less at an Ivy League university.

Our choice of Seoul for our last excursion from Guam before permanently heading home to Michigan was really one of happenstance.  Because of my wife Silvia's tight work schedule, we could fit in only a long weekend and our original choice, going to Vietnam, involved at least 13 hours of travel in each direction making it impractical for a short trip.  But then United Airlines, taking advantage of the renewed, burgeoning South Korean tourist interest in Guam, began non-stop service between Guam and Incheon Airport outside of Seoul and that decided it for us.

We contacted our oldest daughter whose good friend Ben, a fellow graduate student at Columbia, whom we had met and enjoyed spending time with a few years earlier in Berlin, had married a South Korean woman, Sungmi.  Stars do align, and literally the same day we contacted our daughter to find out if Ben was in Korea, Ben had reached out to her to find out how she was doing.  It turned out that Ben and Sungmi, who had been in Korea earlier in the year for their marriage ceremony, had been living in Seoul where Ben was finishing his PhD dissertation and Sungmi had taken a job with a prestigious Korean steel conglomerate.  Now we had more than guidebooks to shepherd our exploration.

We easily found the KAL downtown hotel bus at Incheon Airport and had a short wait before settling back in comfort for the one-hour trip.  Driving into Seoul gives only glimpses of its enormity as mountains nestle the city and obscure the sheer scope and size of the metropolis.

The downtown district is situated between two of Seoul's picturesque mountains, Namsan and Bugaksan.  It affords pleasant walks or short cab rides to Seoul's most historic palaces (Changdeokgung, Gyeongbokgung and Deoksugung), numerous pedestrian friendly shopping districts and markets (Insadong - stylish shops, bars, and restaurants; Dongdaemun - cheap local merchandise and food stands; and Namdaemun - name brand chain stores and restaurants), and Cheonggyecheon - a recently uncovered stream turned into a pleasant urban walking retreat and a staging ground for seasonal art and display festivals.

A word about the Korean language: it's mysterious in origin and doesn't transliterate easily or accurately into English.  However, there are some regularities that make it easier as it has a system of pre-fixes and endings for nouns that tell you a great deal: words ending in "gung" are palaces; ending in "daemun" are markets; ending in "dong" are areas or districts; ending in "gang" are rivers; ending in "cheon" are streams; ending in "san" are mountains; etc.  All guidebooks have a glossary in the back that will give you the full picture.  Beyond that, English is widely spoken only at the major hotels in the downtown district, but most restaurants have picture and/or English menus and Koreans who do speak even a little English are happy to have an opportunity to practice with you.  Cab drivers rarely speak fluent English but know enough to get you to your destination.  However, it's always a good idea to have a card from your hotel with its name and address written in Korean.

The Korean written language, Hangeul, is a fifteenth century invention by one of the great Joseon kings and is roughly equivalent to written western alphabets and much easier to decipher than the Chinese characters that it replaced.  Korean students still study around 2000 Chinese characters in school and a few of the characters are used in daily life.

We chose as our hotel the Westin Chosun, considered, along with the Lotte Hotel, the nicest (and most expensive) in the downtown area.  For around $300 a night (including all taxes), we received an elegant room on an upper executive floor that included a sumptuous breakfast (two days in the Executive Lounge, two days in the buffet restaurant) as well as access to the lounge, where the happy hour food (and alcohol) spread was good enough to serve as our dinner on two nights.  Lower cost choices at nice hotels abound in the downtown area, as well as traditional Hanok guest houses (similar to Japanese Roykon, with austere elegant rooms and futons for sleeping on the floor) and very inexpensive motels.  Gangnan, the sprawling business district south of the Hangang (Han River) that bisects Seoul, offers other luxury hotel options, but that district is not a particularly convenient one for tourists.

Early November is still fall color change around Seoul and the hilly terrain creates micro-climates that were in various stages of color: in many of our walks and explorations, Ginkgo and Korean Maple trees were in their full bright yellow and brilliant red regalia.  Note the reference to "Korean Maple" trees, trees that in the United States are commonly referred to as "Japanese Maples."  Korea's relationship with Japan is fraught with complication: if you travel in Japan and see their uniformly polite and gentle contemporary ways, it's hard to imagine that these same people, at the turn of the twentieth century, were among the most brutal colonial powers in modern history.  Their bloody occupation of large swathes of China in the 1930s and the entire Korean peninsula from 1910 to 1945 is still fresh in the political minds of both China and Korea.  Japan's occupation of Korea was particularly devastating: they attempted to ban the Korean language, both spoken and written, and turned historical sights into Japanese temples and bureaucratic offices.  Japanese sexual enslavement of Korean "Comfort Women" during World War II is still a controversial and painful political issue, especially in light of Japan's recent resurgence of nationalism and soft pedaling of war crimes committed by Imperial Japan.  So, in South Korea, they are "Korean Maples", not Japanese.

Arriving at the hotel, our room was over an hour from being ready, so we dropped out bags, grabbed a map from the concierge, and took off to explore our new neighborhood on foot.  Our afternoon and evening was free as we weren't meeting Ben and Sungmi until the next morning for two days of planned activities.  We had lucked out on weather: it was a pleasant fall day in the upper fifties Fahrenheit, and there was no rain in the forecast for our entire visit.

Above: the drum being sounded at the changing of the guard at Deoksugung

On our first walk, we started west, first strolling through the bustling City Hall plaza, where a market was being taken down.  Groups of uniformed school children were playing games and "exercising" on the wide expanse of lawn in front of the ultra-modern, curving green glass building, as well as going to and from the Neo-colonial Old City Hall, now a library.  Crossing the street towards the Deoksugung (Deoksu Palace) we discovered fading but still vibrant fall colors peeking out from the walls, a street market of touristy souvenirs and not so cheap clothing and accessories, and an elaborate "changing of the guard" ceremony outside the palace gates with brilliant colorful period costumes, weaponry, and musical instruments.  Several of the palaces have these ceremonies at scheduled hours (posted on signs in English by the palace gates), each lasting about half an hour.

The area to the west and north of City Hall is a quiet district consisting of several large foreign consulate installations, museums, and schools.  The first broad boulevard is primarily an office and business district, and here we found an open bank to change money as well as modern, pedestrian friendly plazas with surprisingly creative contemporary sculptures perfectly integrated with the streetscape.

Ben and Sungmi had sent us several suggestions for dinner places near our hotel and we chose a seafood place about two minutes away called "Gui Gui" (구이구이 in Korean characters) specializing in grilled fish.  Food is a huge part of Korean culture, and the variety, quality and generous portions are universal, perhaps in compensation for the many years of deprivation suffered during the twentieth century until the 1970s.  Restaurants, which are generally quite inexpensive, tend to fall into well defined categories encompassing mandoo (dumplings with multiple filling types served in a light broth with mixed vegetables), bibimbap (rice dishes with special ingredients such as marinated meats or fish such as abalone, often topped with an egg, including vegetables and usually served in a heavy ceramic or cast iron bowl with a red chili sauce that you mix yourself to finish the cooking), barbeque (often "do it yourself" at the table/grill, specializing in bulgogi - marinated sliced beef, and/or kalbi - marinated beef ribs; also pork or chicken is common) and hot pots ("do it yourself" dipping of various vegetables and meats in a boiling broth at your table.)  Accompanying every meal in Korea is banchan, a vast array of side dishes of marinated, pickled and fermented roots and vegetables led by the ubiquitous kimchee.  It is very easy to over-order as these dishes alone, plus one entry is often more than enough for two people.  Koreans use chop sticks, but a pointed variety made from stainless steel (so the many varieties of hot and savory sauces don't cling to the implements) that take some getting used to.  We struggled at Gui Gui with a round, slick savory olive-looking side dish; we were relieved to see our Korean tablemates struggling with the same item.  Street food, too, is widely available, especially in the evening at any of the pedestrian markets and includes a wide variety of sweet, savory, and meat dishes meant to be eaten while walking.

One other brief note about food: Koreans are crazy for coffee.  Starbucks is around every corner, as well as at least half a dozen other Korean only chains; supposedly, South Korea, with its relatively small population of around 50 million, is the 8th largest consumer of coffee in the world.  Given the littered landscape of coffee places, this is not surprising.

Above, the Festival of Lights.

Seoul at night is magical and pedestrian friendly. After dinner, we strolled to an area north of our hotel, underneath one of the symbols of Seoul, Jongno Tower.  In 1994, an addition to the top of the modern building created a "floating cloud" metal disc, which houses one of Seoul's fanciest restaurants, the aptly named Top Cloud.  But the real interest is Cheonggyeheon, an old stream channeled underground and turned into a highway during Seoul's explosive growth beginning in the 1980s.  Between 2003 and 2005, at huge expense, the highway was torn down and the ancient stream was restored (although with pumped in water).  The sunken banks and gentle river are now one of the most popular strolling and picnic areas in central Seoul and we happened upon the opening night of the annual Festival of Lights.  Huge illuminated sculptures celebrating Korean ancient history and culture floated anchored in the soft flowing stream and on the banks as thousands of people strolled on the walkways parallel to the river or along the sidewalk overlooking the displays.  It reminded us of Providence, Rhode Island's Water Fire, a similar summer weekend festival along its uncovered central stream.

A word about Korean pedestrian life: Koreans do not have as wide a personal space as westerners, like the Chinese, perhaps because of their long history of high density living.  As a result, jostling and bumping is common in large crowds and an inadvertent shove or a close following or rough passing is no cause for concern or apology; Koreans are unfailingly polite, helpful, and patient, but "excuse me" isn't really part of their vocabulary.  Take no offense and don't be surprised if your automatic apology for running into somebody is met with a blank stare.  Also, like the Chinese, smiling at strangers, as we commonly do in the west, is thought of as unusual and possibly deranged behavior: one normally smiles only with family and friends.  Don't expect wait-staff at restaurants to return your automatic smiles and don't be offended if they don't.  This isn't true at hotels and other establishments that cater to westerners; there, the staff has been well trained in smiling.

The next morning, Sungmi and Ben picked us up at our hotel for our trek to Bugaksan (Mount Bugak.)  Seoul has an almost completely restored ancient city wall around the central section of the city.  The whole path, mainly on top of the wall, is almost 20 kilometers long and includes the four major mountains of Seoul's central area (Bugaksan, Naksan, Namsan, and Inwangsan.)  It is a smooth stone path most of the way, sprinkled with glorious little temples, but extremely steep in places.  The wall was built mainly during three periods of the Joseon Empire beginning around 1396AD, with the last sections built around 1704AD.  The three main building periods are easily identified by the size and arrangement of the stones and in some places examples from all three major construction periods sit side-by-side.

Above, a view of the city wall with sections from all 3 eras of construction.

Below, views from the wall:

Above, a small temple built into the wall.

Because part of the day's hike overlooks South Korea's "Blue House", their Presidential residence equivalent to our White House, it was necessary to bring our passports and go through a security check to enter the gate to the path.  Security is a serious matter in some parts of Seoul as it sits in the shadow of the DMZ and South Korea is still technically at war with North Korea.  Additionally, incursions from the north are not unheard of, and in the mid-1960s, North Korean troops breached the border in an assassination attempt against then current dictator Park Chung-hee.  (Park was eventually assassinated in 1979 by his own intelligence troops; this paved the way for Korea's current democracy.)  There was a furious battle and scores of soldiers on both sides were killed.  Memorial markers, including a famous tree with 13 bullet holes carefully circled, are in place on the hiking route and security guards, always with dark glasses and grim expressions, keep watch over the day hikers and forbid pictures at various points along the route. 

Taking a short cab ride north to the Buamdong/Changuimun area in the shadow of Bugaksan, we first stopped for lunch at a popular mandoo restaurant, "Sonmandoo."  The neighborhood is a quiet, hilly residential retreat with fashionable shops, galleries, coffee places, and restaurants mixed among pleasant houses and small apartment buildings.  In recent years, the area has become extremely popular with Seoul's burgeoning upper-middle class.

Above, sauce pots outside of Sonmandoo.

The restaurant, situated in a modern house nestled into a hillside, was already full for lunch before noon; we were fortunate that Sungmi had made a reservation.  Approaching the entrance, barrel-sized covered ceramic pots filled a small porch to the side: inside the jars, fermenting sauces and ingredients for their banchan and other dishes.  We were seated at a table by the window and left the ordering to Ben and Sungmi.  We were quickly presented with a huge steaming bowl of broth filled with vegetables and various sizes and shapes of mandoo stuffed with shrimp, ground meat, and spiced vegetables that finished cooking at our table - a perfect meal before our hike.

The day was cool and overcast, so a quick stop at "Club Espresso Coffee Roasting House - Since 1990" yielded several cups of Tanzanian and Ethiopian custom roasted coffee for the short walk to the gate; a quick security screening where we presented our passports and received a tag to wear on the trail and we were on our way.

The path on the top of the wall was wide and not crowded.  We made frequent stops to catch our breath and take in the unfolding views of the fall colors and beautiful hillside neighborhood.  It took about an hour at a very slow pace to reach the top and the reveal of the massive expanse of Seoul: to the south, through the haze, we could see the downtown district and in the distance Namsan and its 777 foot tall Seoul Tower at the top.  Namsan, although it has the southern reach of the city wall at its top, is the geographic center of modern Seoul: on its other side sits the Han River and an equally large expanse of the rest of the city, including the under construction Lotte Tower, which will reach to 1824 feet tall when completed, taller than any building in the Western Hemisphere.

We exited our walk at a gate that took us to a quiet residential and commercial district north of the wall near the beautiful Samcheonggak Temple.  We contemplated walking to our next destination, the famous (in Korea) Suyeonsanbang Tea House, but we weren't exactly sure of how to get there.  Instead we found a fortuitous (for us) cab for the short ride.  A perfectly restored Hanok in the trendy Seongbukdong neighborhood, this traditional tea house was originally the home of Korea's most famous novelist of the first half of the twentieth century, Tae-Jun Lee, who tragically chose to move to North Korea after the ceasefire and mysteriously disappeared, probably the victim of a political purge.

Above, the garden at Suyeonsanbang Tea House.

The teahouse was crowded and it took a long time to be seated and eventually served at an outdoor table in the restful garden.  We lingered over spiced ginger, green, and jujube teas, and ordered two of the bean paste, pumpkin squash, and shaved ice traditional desserts.

Wandering the neighborhood after our respite, we found unusual small scale modern architecture mixed in with a few traditional temples undergoing restoration and a small alley with two or three intact and restored Hanoks.  We walked into one interesting establishment that appeared to be a kitchen store and Korean deli of sorts, called "All About The Cuisine and Kitchen."  It turned out that many of the porcelain objects were works of art by one of Korea's most famous ceramicists, Lee Sae Young.  While expensive, the prices were reasonable as the artistry and craftsmanship of the pieces was impeccable.  (I tried to buy one small piece, with a small, beautiful barely noticeable irregularity in the glaze, but it was not for sale because of the flaw.)  The shop also sold traditional Korean furniture, beautiful, modern decorative objects adorned with mother of pearl, crockery and cutlery, tableware, and custom made vinegars, spices, and sauces.

Below, neighborhood houses, new and old:

Next up, a quick, cheap cab ride to Insadong, a well known pedestrian area north of the Cheonggyecheon Stream, lined with antique stores, trendy tea shops, street food, street performers, art galleries, restaurants and people.  We wandered for an hour or so, in and out of shops, Ben partaking in his favorite street food, a kind of doughy donut on a stick with a sweet filling instead of the hole area.

Below, Insadong at night:

Our next walk was south to one of the main business thoroughfares, Jonggak, in search of a Korean barbeque restaurant (with "grade A" beef, equivalent to our prime rating) located on the lower level of one of the modern towers lining the street.  Right before the entrance was a surprising display in the plaza of a partially exposed archeological site of Seoul's Neolithic predecessor settlement.  Inside the tower, the walls held glass cases with more artifacts and details of the settlement and the life of the ancient village.

Each table at the modern restaurant had a sunken charcoal fire and exhaust hood.  (Some of the cheaper barbeque establishments don't have the ventilation systems and can get smoky and probably a little dangerous.)  Ben masterfully sliced and cooked our prime steaks (cut into small strips), served with the usual array of banchan and sauces.  We ordered several varieties of soju, the Korean national drink that is usually made from rice, clear or slightly cloudy, and stronger than sake but not as strong as vodka.  Mainly served cold, it was a perfect match for the tender, succulent meats and sweet and spicy sauces.

Above, our grill at the BBQ restaurant.

The next morning was clear and cool.  We grabbed a cab and headed to get in line at Changdeokgung to see its "secret garden."   Tickets for tours (in various languages) can be reserved online, but the allotment was already sold out for the day.  However, half the tickets are reserved for "day of" sale, and the only way to get into seeing the gardens is on a tour.

Changdeokgung has the oldest existing buildings of any of Seoul's palaces. The Joseon Dynasty built the palaces of their capital during their continuous rule from 1392 to 1910. However, being built of wood, and Korea being subject to numerous invasions by the Chinese and Japanese, many of the palace buildings burned and were rebuilt. During the brutal Japanese occupation between 1910 and 1945, when Japan attempted to wipe out all Korean culture (including the Korean language), many of the palaces were re-purposed for Japanese government uses. However, starting in the 1980s, the Korean government has undertaken a massive restoration effort for all of the main palaces.

Within Changdeokgung is "Biwon", or the "Secret Garden." It is really a sprawling, carefully landscaped natural area on the slope of a mountain, bisected by two streams. We were early enough to secure tickets for a Japanese language tour but you don't really need the tour guide's lecture to appreciate the magnificence.

Below, the Secret Garden:

The fall colors were still vivid in their last brilliant moments as the mountainside protects the garden and thus winter is slower to arrive.  Hidden pavilions, carefully crafted ponds and streams, create a tranquil retreat, some framed by giant 700 year old ginkgo trees in full yellow splendor, where its easy to imagine royals of a previous age meeting for hidden trysts or drinking tea and writing poetry (some of which is still carved on sheltered stones.)  We lagged as far behind our tour group as we could, but eventually, guards would notice us and shoo us back towards our group.  Still, we managed to spend over an hour contemplating the peace and beauty.

Next on our itinerary was lunch at a bibimbap in the shadow of Namsan and a cable car ride to the top.  There is a walking path to the top, too, but it's about 600 feet almost straight up, so we instead waited around 40 minutes in line for the quick ride to the top.  It was a beautiful, smoggy clear Sunday, so families were out in force.

Below, our lunch spot:

At the top, a free traditional dance and music show was being performed in an outdoor amphitheater at the base of the N Seoul Tower.  The Tower, which was finished originally in 1971 as a TV and radio transmission tower, was the first symbol of modern South Korea.  (It was renovated in 2005.)  Several restaurants inhabit the round near the top of the tower, and food and view packages are available.  But it's not necessary to pay the steep admission charge for the view alone: the plaza around the tower provides stunning vistas, as does the nearby small restored "fire beacon" stone fortress where the Joseon empire used fires and smoke to communicate from mountain peak to mountain peak and warn of impending invasions.

 Above, views from Namsan.

Below, view from the cable car:

Below, the N Seoul Tower:

Above, the view from the Fire Tower.

There was no wait for the cable car back down the mountain.  From the terminal, it was a short walk to the Namdaemun market, one of the most colorful in Seoul.  Roughly organized into clothing, food, souvenir, dry goods, and household goods sections, the stalls were crowded with Korean and immigrant faces, as well as a few tourists like us. It was Sunday, but the market is even busier during the week when the adjacent stores are open, too.  Like some of the street markets in China, many of the stall keepers and patrons appeared to be Muslim with the women with their heads, and sometimes faces, covered.  The merchandise was generally both cheaply made and inexpensive.

Above, Namdaemun market.

On our last day in Seoul, we got up fairly early and walked to Gyeongbokgung (Geyongbok Palace) via Sejongdaero, a wide boulevard with a pedestrian park/promenade in the center filled with temporary art and commercial exhibits.

Below, Admiral Lee at the foot of the promenade leading to Gyeongbokgung:

Above, the view back to the city from Gyeongbokgung's main plaza. 

Gyeongbokgung doesn't hold the treasure of Changdeokgung's hidden garden, but does have its own delights, including a spectacular banquet hall "floating" in the middle of a pond towards the mountainside, as well as King Gojong's "palace within a palace," a small pagoda-like pavilion similarly situated in the middle of a pond.

 Above, the banquet Hall.
Below, the palace within a palace:

Next to the palace is the National Folk Museum, a fascinating structure that beautifully mixes modern and archaic architecture and includes an outside area that is a faithful reproduction of a typical middle-ages Korean village.

Exiting near the back of the palace to the east took us to Bukchon, a fashionable, quiet neighborhood that combines modern, stylish shops with the last neighborhood of traditional "Hanok" style residences. Similar in some ways to the Chinese "Hutong" residences, they have walls that face the streets with ornate entrances that lead to central courtyard areas surrounded by rooms. However, unlike the Hutongs in Beijing, which don't have indoor plumbing and rely upon neighborhood bathrooms and showers, the Hanoks are upscale, restored residences. The area is on the side of a hill and affords spectacular views of both the downtown and the surrounding mountains.

Below, views around Bukchon:

Winding down our visit with a quiet dinner at our hotel, we realized not only how much we had learned and enjoyed about Seoul, but also how much we had missed: we never made it to the DMZ (closed for tours on Mondays) or Paju Book City or Samneung Park, with its Joseon tombs.  I guess we'll have to come back some day....

CHINA - SHANGHAI, YANGTZE RIVER, 3 GORGES, XI'AN, BEIJING

"So, yes, there is corruption in China.  Maybe something should cost one billion dollars to build, and maybe the price is one point five billion, but it is well built, it won't fall down."

"Tony", not his Chinese name, our assigned guide, is talking to our group of 34 on the bus ride to "Old Shanghai" and the Yu Garden.  His mini-lectures are sharp and funny, showing excellent English and a wry sense of humor.  He is from Beijing, and fiercely nationalistic and proud of China, and not afraid to show his clear northern Chinese sensibility.

I wanted to ask Tony about the collapsed schools after the earthquake in Szechuan a few years ago, and the shoddy construction that lead to thousands of deaths; and, the subsequent jailing and harassment of the parents who tried to bring this scandal to the world's attention.  Or, the irony later, when we were driving from the Wuhan airport to our boat dock, and Tony was talking about Wuhan's explosive growth.

"These buildings, all five, six, seven stories tall, were built only ten years ago.  You can see all around the much taller buildings that are replacing them."  The ten-year-old buildings we could see looked like ancient slums - how well built were they?

Another word we are hearing a lot from Tony is "flexible."

"Chinese companies were hired to build a big tall building project in Russia.  The Russians would build one floor a month; but the Chinese method is special concrete where we can pour one floor every three days.  But the Russians say you must let concrete cure for 28 days or it is dangerous.  But Chinese engineers hire people to test and tests show Chinese method works.  So Chinese compromise with Russians and build one floor a week.  Chinese workers not like Russian workers who do not like to work hard and know only one thing.  Chinese workers flexible, can learn many things, solve problems, work very hard."  And yet, in the recent news is word that the new San Francisco Bay Bridge may be unsafe because of the work of one of the Chinese subcontractors.

Seeing China through the lens of a luxury Viking Cruise provides a distorted perspective, but no more distorted than that provided by our western media.  Putting the many points of view together perhaps provides a fuller view.  Viking is a Norwegian company, famous for Scandinavian hospitality, its river cruises and pampered customers.  The Chinese representatives for Viking are clearly highly trained, well educated and carefully screened.  And, the Chinese government just as carefully scrutinizes Viking.  For instance, the Viking Emerald, our four-year-old ship, is not owned by Viking, but instead has a Chinese owner.  And, at every opportunity, we are told about the high quality, reasonably priced, authentic Chinese pearls ("much better and less expensive than the pearls from Fiji or India"), authentic Chinese teas ("India tea actually comes from China seeds"), and other beautiful hand crafted, authentic regional items that are for sale by Viking.

This is a reflection of the huge shift in the last 30 years of China from a rural agricultural and inexpensive manufacturing economy, to a financial and investment powerhouse trying to shift to a higher "value added" economic position.  Tony tells us constantly about China's magnificent achievements:

"Thirty years ago, everyone say Hong Kong model the best way for finance.  Hong Kong the center of Asia finance.  But in last ten years, Shanghai grows so much, from 15 million peoples to 23 million peoples, but Hong Kong stay the same.  Now Shanghai have more economic activity than Hong Kong."

Of course, Tony doesn't mention Hong Kong's geographic limitations or how difficult it is for mainland Chinese to go to Hong Kong.

"Ten years ago, people ask China or India, which is better model for growth?  But now, it is clear, the facts are that China grow more and better.

"And, people say air pollution so bad in China, but now the UN reports that the most polluted cities are not in China, but in India."

Tony never passes up an opportunity to dig at one of China's rivals.

"In Beijing, you will be able to buy authentic Chinese tea ceremony cups and pots.  Maybe you see the same in Japan, but China invented the tea ceremony, Japan just copies from the Chinese."

Out of our hotel window at the Ritz Carlton Portman Shanghai is a prominent neo-Classic, limestone clad European style complex, topped by a red star that seems empty.  The building has no exterior identification in either Chinese or English, so we ask Tony.

"That's the Chinese Russian Friendship building, built maybe when Stalin still in power in Russia, soon after the Revolution.  Now empty; friendship not so good between Russia and China.

"But Putin coming soon to visit Shanghai.  Chinese government say they like Putin; but Chinese people don't like Emperor Putin."  Of course, Putin's visit is to try to get the Chinese to buy Russian natural gas, now that Europe is pressuring Russia because of the crisis in the Ukraine.  The Chinese people are disgusted by Putin's arrogance, but business is business.

Our trip covers a great deal of ground in two weeks, from two days in Shanghai to a five day cruise on the Yangtze River, through the 3 Gorges Dam, debarking in Chongqing, where we fly to Xi'an for two days (after a quick visit to the Giant Pandas in the Chongqing Zoo, a much easier place to see them than Beijing) and a visit to the Terra Cotta Soldiers.  Finally, another flight, and three days spent in Beijing.  It is "all-inclusive" supposedly, but isn't really as the optional trips to places like the Summer Palace in Beijing cost extra, and strongly-encouraged tips for all of our tour guides and bus drivers and boat staff are not included.  The latter is especially troubling as tipping is not customary in China; except, of course, on a Viking trip. 

Shanghai has been China's traditional business center for over two hundred years and its modern face still bares vestiges in the Bundt neighborhood of the "foreign concessions" that China endured in the 19th and 20th centuries.  In an era when China's last dynasty, the Qing dynasty was weakening and reaching the end of its 250 year reign, these concessions, which were not subject to Chinese law, were among many factors that contributed to a modern blooming of Chinese nationalism.  The flower first emerged as the brief period of the Republic of China (1912 to 1949).  But the Republic was weak, and after Sun Yat-sen, the founder and widely loved first President of the Republic died in 1925, China deteriorated into a return to aspects of its earlier feudalism.   When Chiang Kai-shek's corrupt dictatorship seized power in 1928, China dissolved into civil war with Mao's Communist Party organizing in the rural areas, while the erstwhile Republican government began resisting Japanese imperialism.  Eventually, Japanese aggression led to the Sino-Japanese War of 1937-1945, during which Mao's and Chiang's forces were informally unified against the Japanese.  After the Japanese surrender at the end of World War II, the civil war resumed with Mao's eventual triumph and Chiang's government exiled to Taiwan.  China's casualties during this period were massive, estimated by our tour guide Tony at "Thirty to fifty millions people, more than the Jewish peoples and the Russian peoples combined."  Of course, the six million Jewish casualties represented most of the Jewish population in Europe, while the Chinese casualties, which modern historians estimate at between 17 and 22 million, while brutal and catastrophic, represented well under 5% of the population.  Similarly, Russia's casualties, while fewer in actual numbers, represented a much higher percentage of their population.  To this day, the average Chinese citizen holds a very hostile and suspicious view of Japan and the Japanese.

Shanghai doesn't hold much for the average tourist unless you are an architecture buff - Shanghai still has remnants of its Art Deco past as well as interesting modern buildings.  And, it's street life outside of the main tourist shopping district still feels a bit like an older China.  "Old Shanghai" is really a recently built reproduction of an imagined old Shanghai, filled with tourist shops, with Yu Gardens at its center.  Yu Gardens is actually a five acre house complex, the oldest existing house in Shanghai, dating from the Ming Dynasty, built originally in the late 1500s, by a high level government minister.  It is a sprawling retreat restored to its original pastoral beauty and comfort with carefully laid out ponds and gardens intermixed with thoughtfully constructed natural spaces decorated with salvaged river rocks.  At almost every Imperial China attraction, you see these mainly limestone rocks: valued for their interesting patterns of erosion and complex beauty and carefully placed into landscapes and ponds.

 Yu Gardens (above)

Deco Shanghai, new Shanghai, more Deco Shanghai (above)

Old and New together (above)

The crabs are VERY fresh at most restaurants (above)

Traditional commerce still thrives in Shanghai, too

Life is slower in some parts of Shanghai

Or, not....(Chinglish - the Chinese version of English)

Also of interest was the Shanghai Museum.  When we visited early on a rainy Sunday morning, a long line was already formed to the stylish modern circular stone clad building that sits in People's Square.  We were able to bypass the line by using the group entrance, but the museum was soon crowded.  Spread out over four spacious floors, the objects were primarily decorative, the highlight for us being the magnificent Shang Dynasty bronzes (dating as far back as 1800BC) and the Han and Tang Dynasty lacquered furniture from more recent times.

After a leisurely 90 minute unescorted visit, we boarded our bus for a luncheon stop at a "rug factory."  This turned out to be nothing more than a low quality "Lazy Susan" lunch, preceded by a demonstration of silk and wool rug making by two handpicked artists, that was a cover for a very hard sell showroom of absurdly over-priced rugs.  (The real factory, with 1200 workers, was outside of Shanghai.)  This was the beginning of one of the low-lights of our trip: we would in subsequent days be subjected to similar poor food and hard sells at a Jade "factory", a terracotta "factory", and a lacquered furniture "factory".  Even a demonstration of a Chinese Tea Ceremony was nothing more than a disguised pitch to buy overpriced tea and tea sets.  In China, as everywhere else in the world, there is no free lunch.

The "rug factory"

From Shanghai we made an easy flight to Wuhan where we would meet our riverboat, the Viking Emerald.  Viking handled the transfers, including baggage, flawlessly, and the bus drive from the Wuhan airport to the Yangtze River boat dock was accompanied by an interesting lecture from Tony on the rise of the Chinese automobile industry and the sorry fate of China's first foreign partner, the French manufacturer Citroen.  Citroen made the mistake of selling the Chinese overpriced, poorly designed older model cars and now all their models are considered anathema to the Chinese consumer.  Wuhan sits strategically on the middle reaches of the Yangtze and Han Rivers, and is the center of China's fast growing automobile and transportation manufacturing.  The city is undergoing explosive growth, with a population of 10,000,000.

The Viking Emerald proved a pleasant surprise.  Spacious, well appointed, and tastefully done in dark woods and brass, the staterooms, all with balconies, were comfortable and nicely designed with a cozy seating area and private bathroom.  Public areas included two major lounges with bars and comfortable chairs and couches, a spacious dining room, an outdoor sundeck (which was infrequently used because of frequent rain), an "internet room" with eight computers (no wireless on the boat and the connection in the computer room was iffy and slow) and a small exercise room.  The only minor disappointment was the library, which didn't have any books.

The Yangtze was shrouded in light rain and patchy fog.  The middle reaches of this great river ("The third longest in the world" according to Tony, who sounded almost disappointed that he couldn't claim it as the longest) is heavily industrialized and the river traffic is primarily barges and working boats of all descriptions.  Glimpses of daily life on board these boats were easy to find: a chef or mate at the stern of the boat peeling vegetables for his evening meal; house plants filling sparse deck space outside of living quarters; laundry hanging from improvised clotheslines. 

The boat was a welcome respite from the brief exposure to Shanghai's urban intensity: there, as a pedestrian, you had to constantly dodge electric motor scooters, which do not obey traffic laws and will quickly retreat to sidewalks to avoid congested car traffic and beep constantly at intervening walkers.  Pedestrian crossings seemed more of a vague suggestion to cars to yield, not a requirement.  Walkers beware.

Choosing to do an organized tour of China was not a difficult decision for us, despite having done world traveling together for over 30 years without ever having taken a tour.  China, however, presents numerous obstacles to first time travelers there, beginning with an arduous visa application process that requires an almost minute-by-minute accounting of your time in China.  Navigating Chinese internal transportation systems and finding reputable Chinese guides were the two biggest barriers for us, and Viking came through with excellent service in both areas.  The downside, however, was the poor quality of food (other than on the boat where it was excellent) and the limited choices at many of the tourist destinations, such as the Forbidden City where a visit to the museum there was not included.  Viking did do an excellent job choosing hotels in Shanghai (The Ritz Carlton Portman), Xi'an (The Hilton, within the walls of the Old City), and Beijing (The Regent.)  All three hotels were first class luxury accommodations with superb buffet breakfasts.  The tour also covered a huge amount of ground in 2 weeks, allowing us to see the key places on our China "bucket list": The Great Wall, The Forbidden City, The Terracotta Soldiers, Giant Pandas, and the Yangtze River Three Gorges area.  The five-day boat portion of the trip was especially relaxing and a chance to get to enjoy the company of our fellow tour passengers (mainly older Americans, with a nice interspersing of British and Canadians), as well as nightly informative lectures about Chinese history, culture, politics, and China today.

The ironies of China abound, and slip through the bamboo curtain only upon close inspection and the occasional risky, frank disclosure from someone willing to deviate from the current political dialect in public.  One such person was on the crew of our ship, and she spoke frankly and at length about her experience growing up during the Cultural Revolution, thinking she was a bastard to a single mother and constantly abused by other children.  Years later, as an adult, she found out from her mother that her father had been sent to a "rehabilitation camp" during the Cultural Revolution and had endured eight years of torture before dying. 

Some details of this person's identity have been changed for obvious reasons; when I asked her if she would like to write a book about her experiences, she replied that she already had written several books.  "Why not publish them under a pseudonym abroad?"  She demurred, because of her personal situation, she wanted to remain in China, even though she could leave: "The Chinese, they are like the CIA and the KGB combined; they know everything."

And yet, clearing Chinese immigration and customs upon arrival in Shanghai had been faster and easier than any country we had ever traveled to before.  The police presence in the streets of the big cities was minimal, probably less than you would see or experience in New York City.  In Tiananmen Square, where we visited just days short of the June 4th 25th anniversary of the student massacre, the police presence was no more than you would see in Times Square on an average holiday.  Even getting on the internet in China, where certain websites are notoriously blocked, such as the New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, You Tube, and Facebook, it was very easy to get around the blocks by using a private VPN  (Virtual Private Network, something that many companies provide for their employees, but which also individuals can easily find for as little as $10 a month.)

But upon further reflection, this all made sense.  Private firearms are virtually unheard of in China: even in rural areas where people own rifles to hunt, their guns must be stored at the police station and checked in and out with the express purpose of hunting.  Street crime is almost unheard of, except for the occasional pickpocket.  Thus, heavily armed military and police aren't necessary.  Even the 3 Gorges Dam, which China considers its most vulnerable military target, while having a visible and obvious military presence and heavy security, doesn't restrict the free flow of ship traffic through its locks and tourists around the dam site.  And, while it is easy to use a VPN in China, using it doesn't necessarily stop the government from monitoring the traffic to those forbidden sites.  In fact, the system may allow the Chinese to more easily identify individuals who want to go outside the established boundaries.

And, reading the New York Times while in China revealed, in fact, that a huge political crackdown was in progress while we were there.  While public political meetings and protests have not been tolerated since 1989, most small group meetings in private locations have been ignored.  But, in the months leading up to the June 4 anniversary, China was conducting unprecedented raids on these kinds of meetings, and making widespread arrests of moderates who were previously left alone.  Even now, almost two weeks after the anniversary has passed without any public sign of dissent, the fate of those moderates is unknown.

The compact China has made with its young people since 1989 is simple: the government will allow you to pursue your individual goals and lifestyle as long as you stay out of opposition politics.  Even the one child policy is currently being relaxed.  And this compact has been hugely successful.  When I asked our tour guide Tony when we were in Tiananmen Square a few days before June 4th what was going to happen on the anniversary, he responded emphatically, "Nothing.  Chinese people do not want to look back; only forward.  And most people did not support those students.  They were not good, they had no plans, they only wanted to criticize.  Maybe if they had a different idea and plans, people would have listened and supported them.  But they were only negative."

But at what price has this huge growth come?  China's environmental problems have gotten worldwide attention, but China now officially admits to them and thus one of the justifications for the 3 Gorges Dam.  The dam was originally planned to provide 10% of China's electricity.  However, by the time the dam was finished, China's demand for electricity had grown so explosively that it actually provides less than 3%.  To catch up, another 16 to 18 dams on the upper reaches of the Yangtze are planned.  China officially acknowledges that it must move away from coal-generated electricity.

But the consequences of the dam are far reaching.  China acknowledges that around 1.4 million people were displaced by the construction of the dam and the huge reservoir created behind it.  The weight of the dam and reservoir is so great that the area is now experiencing earthquakes, which did not happen previous to the construction.  (The dam is supposedly constructed to withstand a magnitude 7 earthquake.)  More than 1,300 archeological sites and 18,000 villages were flooded, most of them farming villages populated by minority cultures who had lived on their land for over 1,000 years.  Those displaced were offered apartments in newly constructed cities on the heights overlooking the higher river, and a small stipend for their lost lands.  But these new cities have no basic industry and the farmlands are gone, the families still must pay rent, and many farmers never received their stipends.  Now, the younger people are moving to cities where there are jobs, leaving their children behind in the care of the grandparents.  They are lucky to make it back once a year to see their children during the Chinese New Year holiday.

Besides the cultural losses, the environmental losses are likely even greater.  The 3 Gorges reaches of the Yangtze before the dam were wild and not navigable by much commercial traffic.  The river level fluctuated widely from season to season, and the periodic flooding created rich farmlands on the surrounding flood plains.  Now, the level of the river is carefully controlled and silt that would have nourished the farmland instead builds up in the dam reservoir.  Four huge locks permit commercial traffic to reach as far upstream as Chongqing and beyond, putting more ecological pressure on the river system.  Ironically, during the second Sino-Japanese War, Chiang Kai-shek had fled to Chongqing from his capital of Nanjing under attack from the Japanese.  While the new capital was heavily bombed during the war, the Japanese were not able to reach it with troops because the river was too wild and the roads too primitive or non-existent.  That geographic stalemate helped China to eventually win the conflict.

And, while the dam was constructed to control flooding, the history of dams in general at controlling flooding has not been good.  Well over 100 million people live down river from the dam, most of them in the former flood plain of the Yangtze.  While the dam's height, strength, and sluiceways were designed with a "hundred year flood" in mind (the worst flood over a 100 year period), no one can predict future rainfall patterns, especially in light of the climate changes currently underway from global warming.  The middle and upper reaches of the Yangtze are notorious for cloudy and rainy conditions, with rain experienced as much as 300 days a year.  A breach of the dam would have untold human consequences.  A 1931 flood on the Yangtze caused an estimated 3 to 4 million deaths (according to Western sources; Chinese Government statistics claim a much lower death rate of under 1 million) and the population of the flooded area is significantly higher today than 1931 by a factor of at least five.

We nicknamed the landscape around us as we steadily coursed our way upstream "the land of a thousand cranes"; not birds, but construction cranes.  Vast expanses of flat reeds and occasional farm fields would suddenly yield themselves to massive new cities under construction.  New bridges, almost all of the same modern suspension design repeated over and over, connected the new towns on either side of the riverbanks.  Yet at night, it was apparent from the masses of dark windows that even the completed buildings were still empty.  We found out later that buying an apartment in China is buying only the space with no walls, fixtures, or finishes of any kind.  Buyers are expected to provide all interior work themselves, often with their own labor on weekends and evenings. 

We had been delayed about five hours because of heavy river traffic and rain and did not pass through the one lock of the lesser Gezhouba dam until around 11PM at night.  We were told it would be several more hours before we would reach the huge 3 Gorges Dam, and that it would take several hours to pass through the five locks.  We were warned it would be noisy.  There was no point staying up to watch the approach to the dam as the low clouds and dark skies would make it invisible.

Morning found us docked at the town of Sandouping on the high side of the dam.  An intermittent rain followed us on the 45-minute bus ride to the dam site for our tour of the massive project.  The dam site is a huge military installation and security and access, while easy, is carefully controlled.  The area was crowded with mainly Chinese tourists and the usual aggressive hawkers of souvenirs.  (Tony warned us, "They don't speak or understand English except one phrase, 'maybe later', because that's all they hear over and over again from tourist.  But if you say yes to them when they say it, they will remember you on the way back.  So don't say 'maybe later!")

The dam and locks are an impressive engineering feat and our local guide took us through each of the "world's biggest" or "world's best" or "world's first" with the usual Chinese enthusiasm and pride.  Sandouping, the town at the foot and upper reach of the dam, was a sleepy fishing village before construction of the dam began in 1999.  Now it holds about 40,000 people and China is trying to develop it as a tourist destination, although in our case, we did not stop anywhere between our boat and the dam.  Reflecting the rural roots of the area, every square inch of open space between the new sterile concrete apartment buildings seemed to be under cultivation with freshly planted spring gardens.

Returning to our comfortable ship, we were informed of a change in schedule.  Because of the delay approaching the dam, we would have to forgo one of the planned side trips to the magnificent Lesser Three Gorges of the Daning River.  These three mini gorges (the  Sancheng, Qinwang, and Changtan) are covered in verdant foliage and filled with stalactites in unusual shapes; or so we read in the ship's daily newsletter.  We were to find out later that these delays were common and such changes in itinerary happened on about half of the Viking trips.

Heavy rain followed us through the impressive Wu Gorge.  The pastoral scene of eroded, mist enshrouded limestone cliffs was just as depicted in thousands of years of Chinese scrolls and paintings.  We positioned ourselves in comfortable chairs, with comfortable drinks in hand, in the bow lounge and almost felt like we could be in ancient China; except for the continued reminder of the dam that had created a distinctive line where vegetation ceased at the high water mark, a signature of the irreversible impact of the dam.

By mid-afternoon we had reached Badong, an older town that sits higher above the Yangtze as it is primarily a coal-mining hub in the middle of an agricultural area, and thus was not flooded from the raised river as a result of the dam.  Here we disembarked onto a smaller, rundown ferry for a trip led by local guides up the Shennong Stream.

Before the dam, the stream was a wild river aligned by almost vertical limestone cliffs, and was not navigable.  The region has been inhabited for at least 1,000 years by the Tujia people (a Chinese government "recognized minority", who are also known by their historic name, "Ba" people.) The Tujia are known for their ancient agricultural practices (now discontinued because of the dam), their ancient empire before China was unified, and their precarious "hanging coffins."  The massive coffins, often carved from a single tree trunk, were mysteriously placed into seemingly inaccessible crevices high on the cliff faces.  Previously almost invisible from either the cliff tops or the fast flowing stream, they now are easily photographed with a telephoto lens from a passing ferry.

Evenings on the Viking Emerald usually provided some kind of impromptu entertainment from live music to bingo to historic costume shows.  The young crew on the ship, all extremely professional, promptly attentive, and always smiling, would make an effort to remember passenger names and preferences.  That, in and of itself, was impressive, but even more impressive were the cabaret and other shows put on by the same crew, showing their ability to sing, dance, and entertain.

Our final full day on the river brought us to one more shore excursion: the Shibaozhai Temple.  By Chinese Buddhist Temple standards, Shibaozhai is minor and not particularly ancient.  It sits on a limestone promontory that juts into the Yangtze and is now connected to the small re-located village that used to snake around the base of the temple by a newly constructed suspension bridge.  A twenty million dollar coffer dam protects the temple site from the newly raised Yangtze River, but it did not save the ancient town that used to sit in the shadow of the temple.

The impressive pagoda that marks the side of the six hundred foot tall temple hill is not really a pagoda (which, by definition, is a temple that houses a relic of Buddha) but instead covers a 19th century staircase that was built to access the Precious Stone Fortress (also called the Purple Rain Pavilion) on the top of the temple mount.  Previous to the construction of the enclosed 99 wooden stair access, visitors would have to be hoisted to the top using chains or ropes.

Riverboats now include the temple as a regular tourist stop and the small relocated village serves as a showcase for the Chinese government of their "humane" relocation program, it's apartments and market clearly much better built and cleaner than the glimpses of the other relocation towns we had been seeing on the middle reaches of the river.  The town was populated mainly with old people and young children as most of the young people were away at jobs in other parts of the country.

We arrived very early the next morning at our final river destination, Chongqing, Chiang Kia-shek's emergency capital during the second Sino-Japanese war.  Chongqing, a bustling city of around 7 million (and a metropolitan area of over 25 million), has taken on new importance as one of China's central government's directly controlled municipalities since the completion of the 3 Gorges Dam.  (The other directly controlled cities, all on the coast, are Beijing, Shanghai, and Tianjin.)  An historic and ancient city, it was the center of the Ba empire in the 4th century BC.  It is fast growing, but unlike most Chinese industrial centers, it is highly diversified and produces goods and products mainly for Chinese consumption, not export, although that is changing quickly now that the 3 Gorges Dam has allowed larger ocean going cargo ships to reach Chongqing directly.  But our purpose in Chongqing was merely as a transit point to connect to the airport and our flight to Xi'an, with one small, wonderful exception: a 90 minute visit to the Chongqing Zoo.

Arriving at the waterfront docking area on a side tributary to the Yangtze, it was clearly all newly constructed to meet the newly raised river, with a massive concrete embankment slanting down to the relatively low river.  But not all the new infrastructure was in place: it was a very steep climb up the staired slope to our awaiting buses.  As usual, Viking handled our copious luggage with efficiency and aplomb; we were surprised to see old fashioned Chinese porters with bamboo poles balancing heavy suitcases agilely making their way up the incline faster than we could walk unburdened.

The Zoo revealed herself to be a rambling, lushly landscaped Art Deco retreat, complete with elderly women practicing Tai Chi and young girls in traditional dance classes.  The Pandas were comfortably ensconced in spacious natural settings and we were fortunate to be there early enough so that they were hyperactive (by Giant Panda standards, who tend to do little more than sleep and eat with the emphasis on eat; thus their very low rates of reproduction) waiting for their morning bamboo.  Even a rare baby Panda came out for a quick jaunt up a tree.  Our guide was effusive: "I never see baby, maybe now for three or four years; this is a very big treat.  And, watch baby Panda in the tree.  Often they climb up but can't get down so just let themselves fall to the ground."  Luckily, the young Panda we were observing seemed more sure-footed and had no issues retreating back down the tree.  And, of course, we observed that the Pandas weren't black and white, but, rather more dirty brown and black.  Our guide responded, "Yes, Pandas don't know how to groom themselves, so the dirt and mud stay on.  In the wild, Pandas are almost all black!"

Buses, planes, and buses, and another easy, flawlessly handled trip to Xi'an, one of China's ancient capitals and home to the Terracotta Soldiers.  The Hilton Hotel, within the intact walls of the old city, overlooking the night food market, was our destination after another plebian "Lazy Susan" meal.  The weather was starting to break, and the rest of the trip would be spent hoping that soaring temperatures in Beijing wouldn't compromise our last leg of the journey.  But first: Xi'an.

Located in almost the literal heart of China, and historically the beginning of the Silk Road, Xi'an's history as a city goes back over 3,000 years.  But it's human history is even older: Lantian Man, a 500,000 year old skeleton that is a sub-species of Homo erectus was found in the 1960s about 30 miles from Xi'an, and remains of Neolithic villages at least 6,500 years old have been discovered in Xi'an.  It's old city restored walls (dating from the Tang Dynasty, 600-900AD, and reconstructed during the Ming Dynasty in the 14th century AD) provide an almost ten mile long perimeter around the oldest part of the modern city of 6.5 million people.  (You can rent bicycles and ride around the top of the wall; we, unfortunately, didn't have time.)  Like Beijing, the oldest part of the city is framed by the restored Drum Tower and Bell Tower that used to signal the beginning and end of each day for Xi'an's citizens.  Xi'an is also home to a large Muslim population, known for being the primary merchants in the old city's night market, which meanders around the Bell Tower and reaches its peak after midnight.

We did not have enough time in Xi'an and if we ever go back to China, we will make a point of coming back for a longer visit.  Besides the aforementioned prehistoric sites, there are also some of the oldest and most spectacular pagodas in China (the Giant and Small Wild Goose Pagodas, both over 1,000 years old), the Great Mosque of Xi'an (founded in 742AD), and numerous other Buddhist temples and imperial burial sites.  But we did make it to one of the must see destinations in China, and it did not disappoint: The Terracotta Soldiers that are part of  the Mausoleum of Qin Shi Huang.

Huang is generally recognized as the First Emperor of China, having united the Five Warring states in 221BC.  The Chinese throughout their written history have been compulsive chroniclers.  About 100 years after Huang's death, the Chinese historian Sima Qian provided a description of the building of Huang's mausoleum (which began while he was still alive) in which Qian claims 700,000 men were employed in the project.  (Modern historians are quite skeptical of the number as in this era, no city in the world had a population even approaching 700,000.)  The 6,000-8,000 buried terracotta warriors, although not mentioned in Qian's work, were constructed to protect the emperor from evil spirits in his afterlife, as were the thousands of bronze weapons also found on the site.  The warriors, of which about 1,200 have been reconstructed so far, guard the main burial mound, which has yet to be excavated and is believed to be intact.

Although the area had been known since ancient times to likely contain imperial tombs and relics, and occasional discoveries of terracotta shards were not uncommon, the scope and size of the field was not realized until 1974 when a group of farmers building a new communal well came across unprecedented pieces of the soldiers.  The farmers were removed from their land and the archeologists moved in.  (We were strongly encouraged to meet one or two of the farmers at the end of the tour at the gift shop where they would provide autographed copies of a book about the soldiers for a small fee.  Both Tony and our local guide told a varied story of how the farmers weren't famous until Bill Clinton came to visit the site and asked to meet them.  The story is alternatively told as "when Bill Gates" came to the site.  As Tony would frequently joke with us, "We Asians can't tell you Anglos apart.")

The Chinese have done a magnificent job of building three enormous structures around an active archeological site to allow the public to experience the monumental majesty of the underground army in place.  Each soldier was crafted by an individual artist and represents different ranks and importance and is signed.  No two faces are the same; some conjecture that they represent self-portraits of the craftsmen who created them.  A fourth building houses some of the thousands of bronze weapons and artifacts found on the site including a detailed, dazzling, full-scale bronze chariot.

We tasted another bit of authentic China that evening, choosing to pass up the planned Lazy Susan dinner and instead met an American friend and his Chinese wife (and her teenage daughter from a previous marriage) who had taken the train in from Zhengzhou to see us and were staying at the Hilton for the night.  They took us out for an authentic local cuisine meal, and then we walked to the Muslim night market around the Bell Tower in search of red tea and local life.  It was still early, but the streets were already filling with people browsing the various tea, souvenir, household, and food shops.  (We were carefully steered away from the shops owned by Indians, who the Chinese, in general, do not trust.)  By the time we returned around 10PM, lanes of the street in front of our hotel were being blocked off by the fresh food shops who were converting themselves into restaurants and setting up outdoor seating for the late dining night market crowd.  Ordering was simple: point to the live fish or meat you wanted and it would be prepared in the store's local cooking style, be it kabob style or hot pot method, steaming, frying or stir frying, often with heavy Sichuan spicing.  We could hear the market last late into the night, past 3AM, as our hotel room faced the street.

The Bell Tower at night

Dinner?

The next day we were allowed to sleep in a bit as we packed up, loaded onto buses, and headed to the airport for another smooth transit to Beijing.  Now on the last leg of our journey, our group was tiring a bit and hoped to head straight to the hotel for some settling in time (also known as "nap time") before our afternoon in Beijing.  However, Viking plans were different.  Instead, we proceeded to perhaps our worst Lazy Susan lunch of the trip directly from the airport (this, in Beijing, one of the finest culinary cities in the world), and then a tour of a Hutong.

Beijing is laid out in concentric circles with The Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square at the center.  The neighborhoods of the ancient city were arranged by class with the upper classes being closest to the Imperial palaces.  Hutongs are the ancient residential style of Beijing, with shared wall houses lining narrow alleys, but facing in, not out.  On the narrow streets, the houses present a continuous high, grey wall broken up only by gates (with markings indicating the profession of the resident behind the gate) leading to residential rooms surrounding a central courtyard.  By law, the walls and roof shingles must be grey.

Hutongs are fast disappearing in Beijing, as the land on which these last neighborhoods stand has become so valuable.  Skyscrapers, upscale shopping streets, and elegant hotels are quickly squeezing out this last remnant of old Beijing, but still abut them leading to the incongruity of modern high rises interspersed with Hutong remnants. 

But living in a Hutong is not easy: the spaces are small, cooking is often outside, and there are no bathrooms in the actual residence, other than perhaps an outdoor, cold water shower and a place to urinate; instead, at the end of each alleyway, there is a modern communal bathroom, which usually has long lines early in the morning as people prepare to go to work.

And, while most of the Hutongs are privately owned, the government owns the land underneath them and can force the owners to sell at any time.  And, while many residents cling stubbornly to their old style of life (including the nasty habit of spitting in the alleys), the temptation of the huge amount of money if they sell is hard for the younger generation to resist; the Hutongs are fast disappearing.

The weather had turned hot, but the wind off the Mongolian Desert tempered the sun.  We were thankful that the notorious Beijing air pollution was being blown away, although there was noticeable grit from the fine sand that covered exposed skin by the end of the day.  We were instructed to get up early for our journey the next day to the Great Wall; the plan was to leave promptly at 7AM so as to avoid the brutal Beijing traffic.  The number of registered cars in Beijing had tripled in recent years and now there was a long waiting list to get a proper license, but the controls now in place are too late. 

We were surprised how quickly Beijing's urban sprawl gave way to rolling foothills.  Beijing is surrounded on three sides by low mountains, which exacerbates the pollution problem when the winds die, especially in the hottest part of the summer, where temperatures routinely exceed 100 degrees Fahrenheit.  But it also allows for a fairly quick exit from the city into wooded hills and rocky vistas.  Many of the small traditional farming villages around Beijing near the wall are quickly being transformed into weekend suburban retreats for new wealthy classes of Chinese; property values are soaring and tensions are sometimes quite high between the gentrifiers and the remaining farmers and workers in the villages.

The Great Wall is still surrounded by myth and legend, which Tony happily repeated.  "The Great Wall is the only man-made object visible from space"; from how far in space?  Not really: many man-made objects, including huge urban areas, arenas, the Pyramids, roads, dams and bridges are visible from quite a distance in space.  "The Wall was never breached and served it's purpose, except for the Mongols and the Manchurians who crossed the wall because of betrayal by the guards"; also not completely true, as both groups commanded huge armies and both ruled China for centuries.  And the wall isn't continuous and was built over centuries beginning around 200BC under the first emperor Huang, and was porous even in times of political stability.

We accessed the wall at the closest location to Beijing, Badaling.  Arriving early, we were ahead of most of the crowds.  A small shopping city has formed at the bottom of the access to the wall; our guides strongly urged us to shop at The Friendship Store, where all the guidebooks warn you to stay away as the merchandise is significantly overpriced.  We noticed our guides waited for us in the back of the store while we explored; we conjectured that they received commissions on any purchases we made (as was also likely the case at the many factories we visited.)

The day was sunny and warm, but the strong wind kept us cool.  We had a choice of two paths: the one to the right was not as steep but more crowded.  We chose the path to the left, which was demanding, but not difficult, and was well worth it as we had the top of the wall practically to ourselves at times, while we could see the other section of the wall was often packed shoulder to shoulder with walkers.  You almost can't take a bad picture: the vistas were nothing short of spectacular.

 The crowded path we did not take....

Our path....

On the return trip to Beijing, we stopped at the Ming Tombs, where 13 of the 16 emperors from the Ming Period (1368AD to 1644AD) are buried.  The complex covers a huge area, around 15 square miles, and includes the only excavated imperial burial chamber open to the public, the Ding Ling Tomb.  Unfortunately, we had only a short time at the site, and could only do the Spirit Way walk (lined by 18 majestic pairs of carved giant stone guardians - Generals, warriors, court officials, horses, lions, and mythical beasts) and the Stele Pavilion, which houses a huge stone pillar on the back of a turtle with all the names of the emperors engraved.

The next day began not quite as early as it was a short bus ride to Tiananmen Square from our hotel.  Tony began on the bus with the usual litany of Chinese triumphs: "Tiananmen Square is the largest public space in the world," etc. etc.  We were relieved to find that the plan was not to spend much time in the square, it was meant just as a walking introduction to The Forbidden City.

Considering the high political tensions just shy of the 25th anniversary of the student massacre on the square, security was very light; we were not even chosen to be screened - it seemed mainly younger school groups were being targeted.  Tony pointed out all the government buildings surrounding the square and noted that the Chinese Senate seemed to be in session.  He commented, "Chinese people used to be very critical of American Senators and their corruption.  But then we see how many of our senators becoming billionaires, so now we don't say so much."

The line to view the body of Chairman Mao was already long, filled with countryside tourists who still regard Mao as a god.  Surprisingly, 64% of China's population is still rural.  For these mainly older people, Mao delivered them from thousands of years of serfdom.  During the first five years after the 1949 revolution, weather was ideal and crop harvests were huge; it was the first time these farmers were allowed to keep all of the food that they grew.  What followed however, was the disastrous "Great Leap Forward", when Mao tried to convert the countryside into mini-industrial centers.  The people were ordered to build kilns in every village and melt down everything made of steel or iron to create pig iron to make China the biggest steel producer in the world.  Literally almost every tree in the rural areas of the country was cut down to fuel these kilns resulting in horrific erosion and catastrophic crop failure.  And, the resulting pig iron was of such low quality that it was useless for industrial production.  (The Chinese government now admits that between the famines created by the Great Leap Forward and the executions and deaths from The Cultural Revolution, an estimated 40 to 70 million people died.)

Yet even this disaster didn't turn the farmers against Mao.  Instead, he had all the villages organize into co-ops where they shared their food and were given one big iron cooking pot for the whole village.  This move prevented even further deaths and solidified Mao's support in the rural areas of China.  The Cultural Revolution, where Chinese intellectuals and urban educated were beaten, relocated to the countryside for "re-education", imprisoned, and often killed, was a boon for rural residents who were in the vanguard of the "re-education" (the Red Guard) and given special privileges and favorable treatment by Mao.  After Mao's death, and these twin disasters, a huge power struggle within the government lead to a year long civil war and the eventual ouster of the "Gang of Four" and the beginning of the economic reforms that have allowed China to flourish in a short three decades.

A huge banner of Mao's image still hangs over the main entrance to The Forbidden City that faces Tiananmen Square.  For almost 500 years, until the First Republic of China in 1912, The Forbidden City was the center of dynastic power in China, from the Ming Dynasty to the end of the Qing Dynasty.  (And, yes, the brilliant Bernardo Bertolucci movie from 1987, "The Last Emperor" was actually shot in The Forbidden City.)  A sprawling complex of almost 1,000 buildings that covers about 180 acres, it was already filled with aggressive Chinese tourists.  And, our tour was all too brief; we did not even enter the museum on the grounds, and getting close enough to get a picture of the Emperor's Throne required me to bodily elbow tough little old Chinese ladies out of the way who did not hesitate to use THEIR elbows on me (they started it): for once, I felt big (all of 5 feet 7 inches of me...)

Mao still watching...

 The shade of gold used in The Forbidden City was not allowed to be used on any other building in China

The Throne I had to push and fight my way to see....

The afternoon took us to The Summer Palace, the royal summer retreat on the cooler outskirts of Beijing connected to The Forbidden City by a series of canals.  The palace area was first landscaped and used as an imperial park in the 12th century, but it was not until the mid-18th century that an artificial lake, several additional hills, and a full palace was built.  The complex was destroyed several times after that, and the re-built structures on the site date mainly from the late 19th and early 20th century.  Regardless, the park is a splendid pastoral retreat and still reflects the personality of the original "Dragon Lady", the Empress Dowager Cixi, who diverted a small fortune designated to build China's navy into construction of her summer retreat and the current buildings.  (This diversion was one of the factors that contributed to China's loss of the first Sino-Japanese War in 1895 and the eventual downfall of imperial China.)  Cixi was notoriously fickle and difficult; she suffered from seasickness and couldn't go out onto the lake on a normal boat, so she ordered a boat built for her out of marble so that it wouldn't sway in the winds or waves.  Of course, the boat was too heavy to move away from the dock, but she was content to sit on its upper deck, look out on the water through a mirror (as she couldn't stand seeing the motion on the water directly), and receive select visitors.

 The Dragon is the symbol of the Emperor and the Crane is the symbol of the Empress.  The only place in China where the Crane is in front of the Dragon is the Summer Palace because Cixi was widowed and didn't have to worry about the Emperor visiting..

The covered walkway from the Summer Palace Residence to the Marble Boat, so Cixi would never have to get wet...

That night, we broke away from the tour again, and wandered trying to find a particular "Peking Duck" restaurant recommended in our guidebook.  Wander we did, unable to find wherever it was hidden, checking out the Beijing Night Market (a huge disappointment - a cleaned up, sterile version of what it used to be, selling exotic foods; now, all uniform and clean with no character) and finally settling on an elegant hideaway named, "1949."  The modern interior was done in ancient peg and beam style with soaring spaces and natural materials.  We sampled our first Chinese wine (an okay cabernet, they still have a way to go) and the duck was superlative and inexpensive; it made us wonder again why on such an expensive tour Viking could not have provided better meals.

Reflecting on our experience, we felt the dual nature of China: the pride in their ancient culture and vast accomplishments both in the past and more recently, as well as their strength from thousands of years of struggle.  (As Tony said, when discussing all the special diet requests from us fussy tourists, "Chinese people don't know what is food allergy; in the past, if you were Chinese and you had food allergy, you didn't survive, you just die.  So, no food allergy in the Chinese people now.")  Yet there was a constant chip on the shoulder, too, a need to show that there way is best, and that they have the foremost this, the biggest that, the most fantastic of whatever the world could have.  They don't want to dominate the rest of the world, they just want them, especially Americans, to not just respect them, but admit they are better.  Given the shameful colonial history of western powers and Japan in China, this attitude is understandable.

But China also remains an enigma, confronting huge problems: all those construction cranes and empty apartments, coupled with soaring costs in Beijing and Shanghai, is this the beginning of a bubble burst?  Even the centralized Chinese government doesn't know for sure.  And, with a huge male/female population imbalance, are young men going to be satisfied with material accomplishment alone if they can't find a wife and start a family, something that is deeply ingrained in Chinese culture?  And the one child policy has created another skew, with people living longer and fewer young people to support their retirement; China is already taking measures to relax the policy.  And the opaque politics of China are perhaps still dominated by a split in values between the 64% of the people who live in rural areas and the more sophisticated and better-educated urban population that tends to dominate business, higher education, and government.  The Chinese don't like political confrontation, but they are keenly aware of their long history of fallen empires because of autocratic rulers who ignored the needs of the peasants or allowed corruption to run rampant. 

But does it all matter to us, living in our American bubble?  Of course it does; the world is just too connected to not pay attention.  We should all pay attention.