Caves in the hills viewed from bus window I've blogged previously about our visit to Xi'an, home of the famous terra cotta warriors. We also took a two-day escorted tour bus trip to Yan'an, the remote city where Mao and the surviving remnants of the Communist Army collected after the harrowing Long March and established a base to essentially wait out the Second World War.
The bus trip was an all-Chinese affair except for Ross and me. The tour guide was worried about what to do with us at first, but I was confident that some other tourist on that bus would speak enough English to translate the vital bits to us, like "be back on the bus by 2:00."
And we were right. We were seated right behind Carol, a charming lady on vacation with her family who kept us in the loop. And while our cute young tour guide could talk -- and talk -- to her captive audience, we already knew enough about Yan'an and Mao's time there to understand what we were seeing.
The bus trip was an all-Chinese affair except for Ross and me. The tour guide was worried about what to do with us at first, but I was confident that some other tourist on that bus would speak enough English to translate the vital bits to us, like "be back on the bus by 2:00."
And we were right. We were seated right behind Carol, a charming lady on vacation with her family who kept us in the loop. And while our cute young tour guide could talk -- and talk -- to her captive audience, we already knew enough about Yan'an and Mao's time there to understand what we were seeing.
Arriving in Yan'an. Back on the bus in 10 minutes! So I wish I had more photos that did it all justice! Particularly of the landscape in that part of Shaanxi province. We passed through more mountain tunnels than I could count, and over more bridges that carried us over deep narrow valleys. The roads were all smooth and obviously fairly new. It didn't take much imagination to imagine a time when the only roads were unpaved lanes and to picture files of tired half-starved soldiers wearing straw sandals laboriously working their way through and around this landscape.
This is a difficult place to live and to make a living because of the scarcity of arable farmland. No wonder the peasants hollowed caves out of the hills for their homes, barns and storage. But once the Communists arrived, the city of Yan'an came in for some aerial bombardment from the Japanese, and what buildings there were in Yan'an were destroyed. Now its a not especially lovely city and the most notable buildings are the museum and theater dedicated to the Good Ol' Days, plus some amazingly swank hotels for visiting Communist officials. Unlike the friendly people of our "hometown" Zibo, who smile at us and call out "hello," the good citizens of Yan'an just stared at Ross and me.
This is a difficult place to live and to make a living because of the scarcity of arable farmland. No wonder the peasants hollowed caves out of the hills for their homes, barns and storage. But once the Communists arrived, the city of Yan'an came in for some aerial bombardment from the Japanese, and what buildings there were in Yan'an were destroyed. Now its a not especially lovely city and the most notable buildings are the museum and theater dedicated to the Good Ol' Days, plus some amazingly swank hotels for visiting Communist officials. Unlike the friendly people of our "hometown" Zibo, who smile at us and call out "hello," the good citizens of Yan'an just stared at Ross and me.
Before hitting Yan'an though, we visited a place I hadn't heard of -- the mausoleum of the Yellow Emperor, a mythical king-deity said to be, Abraham-like, the forerunner of the Han (Chinese) people. He supposedly lived 4,500 years ago and here is a cypress tree he planted. He is also credited with devising useful innovations for his people -- like pants.
It wasn't drizzling on this day -- the umbrellas that you see are used by Chinese ladies as parasols.
It wasn't drizzling on this day -- the umbrellas that you see are used by Chinese ladies as parasols.
It was a lovely cool breezy day and the approach to the mausoleum was flanked by bright yellow banners that snapped in the wind. It was really a beautiful sight. Next to this plaza, a little further up the mountain is the actual tomb which Ross and I managed to huff and puff up the trail to see it and get down in time to get back on the bus.
Our next step was the Wouku or Teakettle Spout Falls on the Yellow River. What really struck us about this place was the relaxed attitude toward safety barriers. Hey, you want to look at the falls? We assume that you know all about slippery when wet, gravity, and the way hyperactive kids behave when leaning out over a precipice to look down at rushing water. It's on you, folks.
Our next step was the Wouku or Teakettle Spout Falls on the Yellow River. What really struck us about this place was the relaxed attitude toward safety barriers. Hey, you want to look at the falls? We assume that you know all about slippery when wet, gravity, and the way hyperactive kids behave when leaning out over a precipice to look down at rushing water. It's on you, folks.
The bus stopped at modern rest-stops for bathroom breaks and we also stopped for a filling but unexciting Chinese lunch. The hotel for the tour group, just past the Falls, was a little peculiar. It had the appearance of being a former prison or detention facility. It was a large pre-fab building with four or five floors built around a large central large central opening in the middle. Was it for a large road crew or a military purpose?
The bedrooms were pretty down-at-heel, lit with fluorescent lights, and I remarked to Ross that if I had walked into a place like this upon first arriving in China, I would have felt a bit downcast. And of course the mattress was very firm. As we were travelling with the locals and determined to fit in and not act like privileged Westerners, we took it all in stride.
The next morning we whipped through two of Yan'an's revolutionary sites and visited the small and simple rooms where Mao and Chou En Lai lived, from where Mao conducted the Yan'an Rectification Movement, a brainwashing-and-purging persecution of Communist party members and followers in which it is estimated that 10,000 died and Mao managed to consolidate his hold on the Party. I happened to watch a Chinese drama about Mao's time in Yan'an while resting in my hotel room in Shanghai, and the Rectification Movement was briefly portrayed as Mao having a Serious Talk with the Young Cadres.
We saw a Mao impersonator in Yan'an by the way; he looked just like the Great Helmsman, right down to the cigarette in his hand. I didn't make any smart remarks to him, nor to my fellow tourists about my real opinion.
We saw a Mao impersonator in Yan'an by the way; he looked just like the Great Helmsman, right down to the cigarette in his hand. I didn't make any smart remarks to him, nor to my fellow tourists about my real opinion.
My desire to see this historic place first-hand was satisfied and we were, as I mentioned, the only foreigners we saw on this trip. There is more that I could say about the difference between the true history of Yan'an and the Communist Party propaganda, but it's all rather depressing and perhaps you'd just as soon not know about it. If you do though...
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