Pingyao, China: Tomb Sweeping Day

The Tomb Sweeping Day holiday presented me with a 3-day break and as I didn't have any tombs to sweep I thought I'd get out of Beijing and head to the ancient city of Pingyao with Eunju.

A few days prior to our departure, I was experiencing the symptoms of a cold without being bedridden. I couldn't really work it out until the day before the trip when I woke up at 4am with tremendous pain in my ear. Eunju wasn't staying over that night so I surmised I had an ear infection. 

The train journey to Pingyao didn't make things any better. The train headed west through the mountains. A combination of the air pressure and going through numerous tunnels affected my hearing to the point that I couldn't hear in my left ear. I had the window seat so I could still hear Eunju nattering away to my right. I should have asked her to swap seats as it would have made it much easier to get some sleep while she talked into my deaf ear.

I arrived in Pingyao half deaf with a less than functional nose. I felt like Ozzy Osbourne, the major difference being that he lost his senses from performing ear-splitting heavy metal and snorting God knows what, whereas I probably picked mine up from not washing my hands well enough. Although, Ozzy has to live with Sharon, so if I were him I'd rather be deaf. And blind. 

The first stop was to a pharmacy. I know what you're thinking, "Brendan is an international playboy, he is obviously picking up some prophylactics for his saucy break with his lady friend." That wasn't quite the case. I had to ask Eunju to translate "do you have anything for an ear infection? I think it's started pussing" to the pharmacist. I'm sure I've never appeared so sexy. 

We checked into our hotel that Eunju had booked. It was a traditional Chinese home. It looked really nice, but it came with compromises, the main one being the bed - it was made of bricks. I don't just mean the base, I mean all of it. And the mattress isn't of much use, I've seen pizza bases thicker. We requested extra duvets to give us some comfort, but this didn't help. 

Pingyao is famous for being one of the first banking cities in northern China, for its baijiu (local alcohol), and vinegar. I'd never travelled for vinegar before. 

Vinegar is usually one of those things that are left in the cupboard when there is nothing left, just before your mum does the big shop. We decided to give it a go with some pan-fried dumplings and I can confirm that it does, in fact, taste like vinegar. But it didn't end there, there are shops dedicated to the primary sale of vinegar. They gave us a tour and then gave us some samples to taste. We had a couple of shots of vinegar and left with breath strong enough to ward off the plague. 

We next day we explored Mian Mountain. Located about an hour from the city, it gave us an escape from all that culture. We arrived at the mountain to find a TV set. The cameras were filming two presenters while in the background some performers performed. I know I'm a pretty big deal, but this was a little much for my arrival. In actuality, they were filming some celebrations for the following day's festivities. Right on cue, a helicopter arrived and swarms of people ran over with their camera phones hoping to get a glimpse of a celebrity. I looked over the crowd and tried to work out who it was, then I realised that the chances of Tom Hanks or Angelina Jolie showing up at the base of a mountain in rural China were pretty slim and that it was more likely that it would be a Chinese equivalent of one of those actors with learning difficulties from The Only Way is Essex. 

We ascended the mountain only to realise how cold it was. Days before in Beijing temperatures had reached 30°C in March, so in my duffle bag were shorts, t-shirts and sun cream. Yet, on the mountain is was 4°C and I was rueing my poor packing. To passersby on the mountain they must have thought I had been pumping iron at the gym, when in fact, I was wearing all the clothes I had packed. I was layered up with 4 t-shirts and 2 thin hoodies. It was just about enough as the temperature dropped to 0°C as we climbed higher. 

The views were incredibly remarkable yet bizarre. Mian Mountain had emerged disturbing little of the area surrounding it. Beyond the mountain, there was flat farmland as far as the eye could see without even a hill or a mound of dirt.

Temples are dotted around the mountainside and because of the mist and cold temperatures, Eunju and I were enjoying the freedom of the mountain. One of which is built into a mountain cave. 

After a few hours exploring, we descended and went back to Pingyao in search of a warm dwelling. 

In the evening as we went back to our comfortable brick bed it started snowing. It finished off the trip and we headed back to Beijing the following morning which had experienced a blizzard in our absence. Perfect timing. 

Despite the ear infection, freezing mountain temperature, snow, and leaving with a broken back after 2 nights on bricks, it had been a good trip. 

Mumbai - 7,187 Miles from Home

OK, so I recently read back my last blog post about Hong Kong and Macao and I noticed numerous grammar mistakes. My excuse is that I wrote it while at the bar in Hong Kong airport waiting for my flight. Regardless, I will try my super harderest to minimise the grammar mistakes this time round.

I arrived in Mumbai in the early hours of the 12^th. The taxi took me to my hotel and the first thing I encountered was the poverty in India. There are quite literally thousands of people sleeping in the streets, so many in fact that the pavements are full and people sleep in the roads and the cars drive around them.

The daylight dawned and I got my first real glimpse of India. It’s insanity here. The first thing that I was really aware of is the never-ending threat of disease. When I walk down the street I’m consciously thinking about avoiding the stray dogs that carry rabies, the dirty puddles with cholera, the mosquitoes with malaria, and the people with every form of hepatitis.

If you manage to avoid those threats you then put your life on a knife-edge when you get inside a taxi in India. The taxis are about 50 years old, they are old tin buckets on wheels. I’ve been sat inside them thinking that if this taxi is in a minor collision then I will definitely die. And of course, there are no seat belts. If the thought of dying in a sardine tin wasn’t terrifying enough then the way they drive will provoke a heart-attack. They have mirrors, but you wouldn’t think so. They pull out in traffic whether there’s a space or not, and drive by sound. The drivers listen for other’s horns. A taxi journey in India is up there with skydiving.

As I walk around the streets of Mumbai I realise that I stick out like a saw thumb. Sometimes when you’re out and about you might be in a bad neighbourhood and you might think to yourself ‘I wouldn’t like to take a wrong turn in this part of town’. Well, that’s not possible in Mumbai because every area is the wrong part of town.

A few days in I took a boat trip out to Elephanta Island, the boat trip was relaxing, out on the Arabian Sea, away from the death-trap taxis, and the noise. However, when on the island I found out that it’s inhabited by aggressive, thieving monkeys. There’s no rest from it! I’m now avoiding stray dogs, mosquitoes, goats, cows, chickens, dirty water, and now monkeys with only a selfie-stick to defend myself with.

The sightseeing has been fun despite the unbearable heat and the unstoppable sweating. I’ve been to; The Gateway of India, Chowpatty Beach, Shree Siddhivinayak Hindu Temple, the Haji Ali Daragah (an island mosque), and the Sanjay Ghandi National Park.

The famous Gateway of India

The Haji Ali Dargah Mosque and part of the Mumbai skyline

The most interesting tale comes from when I tried to go to the Vipassana Pagoda in the northern reaches of Mumbai. I asked the hotel staff how to get there and they said that a taxi would be too expensive (£8) and that I should opt for the train (£0.15), so I did.

At the train station, the man who issued my ticket explained the route that I needed to take. The only problem was that he had one of the strongest Indian accents I’ve ever come across. Being the polite Brit I asked him to repeat the instructions, but again I didn’t understand. So, I went on my way without a clue how to get there (and the only maps available were in Hindi). All I gathered was platform 3, something in a broad Indian accent, Borivali Station (my destination).

The trains are exactly how you’ve seen them on TV and film. The doors are wide open, no concern for safety, and people hanging on for dear life.

It was a slow train, and stop after I was hoping to see Borivali Station. I waited but it never came. Before I knew it, it was the end of the line and I had no idea where I was.

And this is where I ended up...

I went up to the ticket counter and asked how to get to Borivali. He ignored my distress and issued me another ticket (this time 20p – robbing bastards). Well, back on the train I suppose. This time it’s packed and I’m in second class. I trust no one. I wear my bag on my chest and my hand stays firmly on my camera. It’s ridiculously hot, I’m the only white person in the carriage, I feel unsafe, and I’m clueless to where I’m actually going. So I think “fuck it, let’s get a taxi”. At that particular moment I wouldn’t have minded paying £9 for a taxi, I just wanted to get off. I got off at the next station (wherever that was) and ask a taxi driver to go to the Vipassana Pagoda, but he’s never heard of it. I’m so lost, so far from Mumbai that even the taxi drivers couldn't help me. On that day, all I knew was that I was in India, it was a pretty scary thought. Well, back on the train I suppose.

Back on the heaving, smelly, grotty train (can you tell that the novelty wore off pretty quickly?), and a kind, softly spoken man helped me. He told me to get off at a station called Dadar and change lines. Thank you, random softly spoken Indian man. I get to Dadar and there are about 8 lines. I went to the ticket queue and ask which line I need. Unfortunately, I’m still too far from the international part of Mumbai and no one understands me, and my Hindi hasn’t improved since the last encounter. With my possessions still intact, I opt to cut my losses and head back to Mumbai.

The next day I tried again and managed to get there, and what a sight it was.

The view of the Global Vipassana Pagoda from the water.

India is a crazy, trying place. It’s certainly not a relaxing holiday destination. I think I would have been bothered by it a lot more had I not been eating delicious curries for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My Indian journey doesn't end here. Next stop - Delhi.