Great Wall or Greatest Wall?

The Great Wall of China is one of those places where you can’t help but have exorbitant expectations prior to experiencing it. What those expectations entail is likely a litany of vague, second-hand information or photographs. You can subdue those expectations by trying to convince yourself that it’s “just another place.”

You would be right if you stopped at the main gates of the Mutianyu section after walking through the preliminary crowds and past the aggressive street vendors as they shill their wares at inflated prices – I got a pair of sunglasses for 20 Yuen when I was first asked to pay was 85. Once you’re past these early distractions and begin the climb, to whatever area you have entered, it takes on a life of its own.

The feeling of impending awe will loom as you walk up the steep walkways and stairwells. Before reaching the actual wall, people were already resting on the side. It is an arduous climb but any pain or stress will immediately disappear when you come to the stairs leading to the wall. Reaching the top I looked out across the landscape at mountains in the hazy distance and saw the wall stretch for what seemed like infinity in every direction. To be standing on one of the only man-made structures that can be seen from space carries a feeling of insignificance and wonder that I don’t think I have ever reached before.

We walked, we joked, we haggled for beer, and we saw a small fraction of a magnificent place. Down in the valleys sat villages of tin roofed houses, shacks and invisible locals. Talking with another Westerner after returning from the trip I was told that many people who live in areas near the wall have likely never even been to Beijing and yet here we were venturing to their necks of the woods. It makes sense. The lives of these people are still a secret to us. The people who worked the area weren’t likely locals from the Wall. They spoke decent English and had items for sale that certainly weren’t hand woven or carved. My real or knock-off Ray Bans were not assembled down in the valley.

The come down was inevitable. For such a large portion of the day I flew high, astounded at every sight my eyes fell upon. Leaving after a quick meal and belt of coffee trying my best to lose myself in my headphones a heavy sense of emptiness descended. I was returning to routine, to a sense of normalcy. I had experienced the extraordinary and had returned to the ordinary -- this is only in the context of living in China, which upon extra thought is not all that ordinary in my case.

I sat on a cannon on the Great Wall. That is not something that happens every day or, in most cases, ever.

Going to such a breathtaking and incredible place will be a personal journey for all those who enter. You may share it with friends as you hike together but everyone will feel their own individual and emotional rush. To predict how one might react to the place inwardly is impossible.

                                                     

 It is a place to be seen, a place to behold. It is certainly a place but it is one unlike any other. Obvious sentiments, sure, but words cannot do it justice.

Out of the subway into Shanghai

View from the street outside Shanghai subway station.

Equipped with a ridiculous handlebar mustache I set out on four hours sleep and a touch of the special shine for the airport at 5:30 for a 7:30 flight. The Beijing airport was hell, as are all airports. It's a hassle akin to being rats in a maze being funneled toward the cheese, which unfortunately was my seat in coach...or economy class as they so kindly renamed it.

I slept the entire flight, missed the meal and landed in Shanghai ready to take on the new city. I can't say I missed the meal exactly. Airplane food is one area, where no matter how many advancements in technology have been reached, that is always atrocious.

Shanghai is anything but. As soon as I filtered out of the subway into the relatively inactive street, I knew I was in a special city. The air was cleaner than Beijing and the sky was clear blue. Guillermo and I sauntered to our hostel down an alley-like sidestreet. We watched the local hole-in-the-wall eateries serving various treats from dumplings to moon cakes to fried chicken and vegetables.

The hostel itself, Blue Mountain Youth Hostel, seemed pretty decent. I'm not usually one for communal living but the showers were clean and separated from one another so it was of little concern. The room (and the hostel itself), on the sixth floor of twenty-eight, was tiny with four bunk beds. Eight people at a time stayed, including an American psychotherapist and Chinese tourists who work together at an automotive firm...I think.

The cafe served pizza and mellow music...some good like Iron and Wine; some bad like Jack Johnson. It was a nice, relaxed little cafe with various foodstuffs. Pizza, muesli, Snickers bars, coffee, beer, eggs, mystery meat and toast, among other things. If you buy outside beer, they'll pop the top at the bar but you must promptly abscond to the patio.

Guillermo and I walked the streets. It reminded me of Las Vegas with all the colours (moreso when the sun went down) and abrasive shills on the street forcing pamphlets in my face. One day, as we walked, I saw a fairly well dressed man walking toward some people he obviously knew as I was walking by. I was close enough, apparently, for him to whisper in my ear.

"Lady massage," he said quietly before turning and continuing his conversation with his acquaintances.

Knock-off watches can be acquired every few feet as you pass one of the many KFCs.

Pudong. The Pearl is that big one on the left with spheres at various levels.

We hit up the Bund, a beautiful area overlooking the water. Across to the other side are large buildings, none identical, including the Pearl. It's all unique and yet also vaguely familiar. Shanghai has an immediate impact on the senses somehow blending energy and relaxation into one mega-vacation-smoothie. In Beijing there is a constant swath of honking from the traffic; not so in Shanghai. The honks make some sense, where in Beijing they're redundant chest pounding. Traffic cops were efficient, maybe because it was the national holiday, and actually helped pedestrians. It wasn't a constant game of Frogger.



More to come...including my review of the movie Looper, which was partially shot in Shanghai.

Ridiculous mustache...check!