When I developed my itinerary before I left, my plan for today was to visit a place called Hua Shan Mountain, one of the five sacred peaks of Taoism, offering some of the most dangerous hiking and sublime views in the world. You can imagine my disappointment when I realized that even if I could've made the summit today, I would be facing subzero temperatures, and sitting in the middle of a cloud. Of the few things that are within my control, the weather is certainly not one of them, and maybe it was for the best, as the merciless Beijing pavement left me with an aching right knee that could probably use some rest.
Still, there were plenty of sights within Xi’an that I had yet to see, and one of them was the Big Wild Goose Pagoda, a Buddhist temple built in the 5th Century. In an effort to save both my money and my kneecap, I made the unprecedented move of jumping on a local bus. The Xi’an bus schedules are written entirely in Chinese and have no maps, so I asked the folks at my hostel what number I should look out for. I managed to successfully hop on board number 610, and got excited at the bargain of a one-way fare…approximately 16 cents. As one might expect, the buses in Xi’an are an adventure in themselves; crowded, weaving their way through a chaotic mess of pedestrians, cyclists, motor scooters, rickshaws, and Volkswagens…lots and lots of Volkswagens. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen, and it’s not a lie when I say that I’m surprised I haven’t seen someone get run over yet.
As we left the confines of the city wall, I kept my eye out for an old, tall tower, and shoved my way off of the bus as soon as I spotted one. What I didn’t know was that the tower I’d spotted was the LITTLE Wild Goose Pagoda. But, once I realized my mistake, I figured I might as well pay the admission fee and visit it anyway. The Little Wild Goose Pagoda is impressive in its own right, surrounded by Ming Dynasty buildings, Buddhist statues and a serene park. After snapping a few photos and exploring for a bit, I realized that the complex also houses the newly-built Museum of Xi’an, and I wondered if my admission to the pagoda also covered a museum ticket. I’m guessing it did, as I simply walked right in past the front desk, but it’s hard to say. For instance, there are a lot of places I’ve gone where I’m supposed to check my backpack, but I never have. I suppose it’s easier for them to just let me in with it than trying to explain the rules to me. That being said, it wasn’t long after I walked in the museum that I was approached by three young ladies who actually spoke the best English I’ve heard so far in China. I was almost sure it was going to be another paid-guide spiel, but they told me that they were student interns, and offered their services for free. Shortly thereafter, we were joined by another student (and captain of his Model UN team) as well as a history student, who spoke little English, but just wanted to make sure that I was getting the right information from the girls. It was fantastic. I got the most in-depth Chinese history lesson I could’ve ever wanted. They were happy to answer every one of my nerdy questions, and would write down any new English terms that I could give them to describe the artifacts. For example, they showed me a 2,000 year-old jade piece, and told me it was "for crush medicine". I told them that we call the bowl a “mortar” and the crusher a “pestle”, and they promptly wrote it down in their notebooks. There were so many artifacts, some of them priceless (or worth millions of dollars) and I got a detailed description of every single one. Proud of their history and heritage, they made excellent ambassadors for their country. After a few hours, I walked out happy that I’d gotten off at the wrong stop.
After my pleasant experience at the Xi’an Museum, I grabbed the next 610 to the Big Wild Goose Pagoda. Instead of being set in a tranquil park, the area around it is busy and touristy. However, once inside, it is still a working Buddhist temple complex, so it gets quieter. Much like the Taoist temple I visited earlier in the week, it was more interesting to me to see devotees in prayer than to see the temples themselves, which were still mind-blowing. I climbed to the top, and got the best view of Xi’an that I could before the rain set in. Chilled to the bone, I warmed up with a snack at, of all things, a German restaurant run by Chinese people. Then I hopped back on another 610. Easy peasy lemon squeezy…or so I thought.
When I realized that I was alone (I’d never been alone anywhere since I’d arrived in China) on the bus, I began to get suspicious. Then, on the outskirts of town, the driver began shouting and demanding that I debark in the cold and pouring rain. I eventually capitulated, and the bastard drove off, then made a u-turn and blew right by me. Now, cold and wet, and miles from the city, I started to worry. I went to the first bus stop I could find, where a handful of people were gathered, and after about 15 minutes I spotted another 610 headed in the direction of town, did my best to flag him down, and he drove right on by, despite making eye contact with him and standing next to an old man trying to catch the same bus. The old man and I looked at one another, then both shrugged and smiled…the international symbol for “I don’t know what the hell that was all about.”
After another 15 minutes or so, soaking wet, I took it as a personal mission to honor my elders and stepped right out in the middle of the road, with a forceful hand held out in front of me, so that the next 610 bus had to stop (of course, I was fully prepared to jump out of the way if he didn’t). The old man and I got on together, and eventually I made it back to my hostel. All in all, it made for an interesting day, highlighting the best and the worst of Xi’an.
