Xi'an (China)

We headed to Xi'an on the bullet train, hitting 250 miles per hour! Most tourists flock to the capital of Shaanxi province to visit the Mausoleum of the First Qin Emperor (Qin Shi Huang), popularly known as the home of the Terra Cotta Army. In 1974, farmers digging a new well for an orchard broke into one end of a huge subterranean pit housing ancient terra cotta statues. The figures (an estimated 6000!) include infantrymen, charioteers, and high-ranking military officers intended to protect his body or accompany the emperor who unifed China (around 230 BC) into the afterlife. Excavation of the archaeological site continues to this day with only 3 pits, the largest of which fits in an airplane hangar, currently open to visitors.

While we'd heard that there are no 2 faces alike, we were surprised to find that all of them (~2000 to date) had to be painstakingly reconstructed from broken pieces, as time had destroyed the timbers holding up the ceilings of the mausoleum. I guess archeologists must be really good at jigsaw puzzles?!? It was cool to see the steps in marking and piecing together the artifacts. One section had rows of workstations and figures in varying degrees of reassembly. This gave us a real Westworld vibe, especially once we spotted one of the terra cotta horses suspended in a harness contraption... cue the haunting Westworld theme music!

We had hired a guide, which we concluded was, in theory, the right decision (it was very informative). In practice, however, she packed a whole lot of pushy in such a small package. We were mortified as she insisted other people move out of the way so she could take our pictures. We were quick marched  through the actual archaeological pits, forced to visit the terra cotta souvenir factory (bring home your own warrior!) and sit through a jade store sales pitch, before finally managing to extricate ourselves from further offers of her services.

After hitting up the terra cotta army, most tourists bugger off to elsewhere in China. While the mausoleum was interesting, honestly for us, it wouldn't have been worth the detour if that was all to see in Xi'an. The Big Wild Goose Pagoda, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, was a pleasant place to visit. The 7-story tower overlooks a public space with terraced fountains -  drawing many on a warm weekend - and it amused us to watch an overzealous young cop blowing his whistle at every picture-taking and water-touching offender while the veteran policemen chilled out in the shade. The grounds inside the pagoda walls house the Da Ci'en Temple complex. The buildings house important texts and golden statues of key figures in Buddhism. Offerings of gorgeous floral bouquets and pyramids of fruits line highly decorative altars. Gardens with little winding paths among the trees and trimmed hedges were an oasis from the heat and hordes. Not all on the temple grounds were filled with grace and calm. Nosy Rich espied 3 Buddhist monks in an argument so raucous, he watched to see if it would lead to fisticuffs!

Another worthwhile stop in Xi'an was the Shaanxi History Museum. There is a long queue to get in, but the ticket is free. Traveling has made it clear to us over the years that good curation is an art not fully appreciated by all, and the Shaanxi History Museum's efforts far surpassed any other historic monument we've visited in China. The galleries take you through the various dynasties that ruled over the province throughout history, and its significance in trade and exchange as the terminus for the Silk Road. There is even arguably better context given about the terra cotta army. Clear and intelligible translations in English for us foreigners also abound. The only downside was the wall-to-wall school groups and tour buses constantly jostling you for a closer view, or more likely, obnoxious selfies, but we're learning this is the norm for China.

On the other hand, the crowds - sorry, China has left me all out of synonyms for massive groups of people! - in Xi'an's Muslim Quarter make it an exciting spot for nightlife. The streets are packed with food stalls selling every delicacy and regional specialty. Brightly lit signs, elaborate costumes, and shouting street hawkers try to draw you to their wares. Lamb dumplings, wide biang biang noodles with chillies, and persimmon cakes stuffed with sweet sesame paste were some of the delicious dishes we sampled. As someone who, at this exact moment, has a whole lamb in her freezer back home, I wondered how good can the lamb kebabs in the Muslim Quarter actually be. They are really good. Tender, juicy, spicy with a kind of cumin and chili mix. Each kebab stall has an entire lamb or two hanging right in front with a man butchering as the night goes on and another couple grilling nonstop. You know options are dwindling for this most popular snack when there are clean ribs dangling left and right. Get'em while they're hot!

Our last culinary extravaganza in Xi'an was hot pot. We ordered yin-yang style with the pot divided into a mild broth on one side and traditional Sichuan chillies on the other. Along the wall are cabinet fridges filled with meats, seafood, tofu, and vegetables on skewers, and you grab a tray and go shopping! You cook your own in the rolling boil at the table, and there's a delicious chilli-peanut-garlic sauce to mix for dipping. At the end of the meal, the waiter comes by and counts the skewers to tally your bill, just like Basque pintxos!

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The Great Wall at Jinshanling (China)

For an early start, breakfast was pointing to order bits from a busy hole in the wall next to the metro station: a large square of dough hot from the fryer (yes, please!), a Chinese egg sarnie (yes!), steamed pork buns (eh, ok), and sticky rice and dates wrapped in a leaf (hell, yes!).

Started around 200 B.C. and built by the Qin and Han dynasties, the Great Wall has about a half dozen options available for a visit from Beijing. We chose the section at Jinshanling. The nearly 3 hour drive out of the city got us far enough away from almost all the day trippers who crowd closer sections like those at Badaling and Mutaniyu. That's not to say that Jinshanling's amenities were rustic.

Construction was booming. Billboards advertising new properties herald a future where Jinshanling will seem more akin to a chic ski village than remote outpost. One advantage of the gentrification were brand new toilet facilities, especially as there are none whatsoever on the Wall itself. The path up to the Great Wall had a fair incline, which was paved smoothly and with new steps. The cute souvenir shops, colored banners, and piped music lining the path made it feel eerily like we were in line for the big ride at a theme park.

At the top was the gate at Jinshanling, and we were headed to the gate at Simatai West. The section is mostly restored and broken up by a series of watchtowers. The Great Wall follows the ridgeline of the surrounding mountains so maybe priming one to think of rollercoasters beforehand isn't such a bad idea. Some parts were so steeply sloped that the Wall curved like the construction of a bridge, and other parts were graded with hundreds of unevenly sized steps. I was grateful I'd brought my trekking poles and that it wasn't rainier, making the bricks even more slippery. Unfortunately, the weather wasn't ideal. The Wall was shrouded in fog so while the watchtowers and ramparts were very cool, materializing out of thin air, visibility was such that we'd have been useless as lookouts for any Mongol invaders. Our pace was sweaty and grueling since an early map showed almost a dozen watchtowers to pass within the 2.5 hours allotted to get to the east gate and down to the bus parking lot. A little over an hour in, we were surprised to discover there were only 4 more watchtowers to go, rather than the 8 we were expecting... so either we misinterpreted the map (which became an all too common occurrence during our trip in China), grossly miscounted watchtowers on our route, or inadvertently passed through some bewitched portal in the mists of time... You decide.

Hiking gave us a good appetite for dinner back in Beijing. Each of the provinces have their own offices in the capital so we decided to try out the restaurant catering to workers from Sichuan since we wouldn't get a chance to visit. An enormous basin with red chillies, peppercorns, and bay leaves floating arrived at our table. The college kid serving us had to demonstrate skimming out the spicy stuff so we could reach the fillets of freshwater fish below. The other dish we ordered was frog legs stir-fried with piquant, pickled peppers. Both had enough bones to make eating a bit cumbersome, but no question that the flavors were authentic and the good kind of burn.

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Beijing (China)

Our arrival into Beijing was near midnight, and the taxi driver had some difficulty locating our hostel down one of Beijing's ancient hutongs. The narrow, tree-lined alleyway is a surprising respite from the bustling city, and home to a community center and small police station. Street sweepers were out every morning, and most of the traffic pedaled by on bicycles or drove small electric vehicles.

We eased into Beijing with a morning visit to the Temple of Heaven Park, a vast greenspace in Confucian design, surrounded by a stone wall in the middle of the urban landscape. We were early enough to catch the routines of locals. Elderly folks were very active - playing paddleball like it was a day at the beach; chanting and smacking themselves in unison in a sort of head, shoulders, knees, and toes exercise to get the blood flowing presumably; playing impressive hacky sack with what looks like a giant shuttlecock (a past-time called jianzi); and scrimmaging in actual badminton with the nets strung up between the trees. For the less strenuous but still social, there were choirs singing Peking Opera and amateurs gently swaying in dance routines with colorful scarves. Dotted here and there among the thousands of knotty cypress trees, there were individuals mediating or doing tai chi, birds with beautiful long tails darting from the tall grasses, and echoes of soft music piped in to speakers along the main paths. A variety of outdoor pavilions and pagodas drew the larger numbers of visitors. Crowds also gathered in the rose garden, snapping selfies in the most riotous display of every shade of red and yellow and white blooms I've ever seen.

The hordes were much more daunting at the Forbidden City, the sprawling palace complex that had been off limits to the public for 500 years during the reigns of the Qing and Ming emperors. The flood begins at the Meridian Gate, where all must enter. Wide courtyards, grand staircases, and bridges carved in marble separate what seems like an endless succession of Halls, Gates, and Palaces. Each structure is named for some lofty ideal or trait, like the Hall of Supreme Harmony or Palace of Heavenly Purity. Certainly, the ornately tiled roofs, elaborately painted timbers, and fierce guardian sculptures live up to the exalted names. Unfortunately, many of the interiors were actually empty, closed to access, or at best, furnished but dimly lit and visible via thousands of noses pressed into the plexiglass outside. Some of the smaller buildings deeper into the complex host exhibits of various themes in the collection, but to be honest, the labyrinth had already worn us out to muster much enthusiasm then.

We had no lack of enthusiasm for delving into Beijing's culinary offerings. Peking duck, roasted traditionally over fruit woods, cost a pretty penny but came with fixins for a party - tender baby bok choy with mushrooms, a spicy slaw, garlic and chili eggplant, crunchy lotus root in a pink jelly, and an addictive peanut and red onion salad. The duck itself arrived whole with the cook expertly slicing even portions with thin rinds of glistening, crispy skin, like a master carving a jamon iberico. Washed down with eight treasures tea (an aromatic blend of flowers, dates, nuts, and rock sugar), it was a grand feast.

Wangfujing is a famous pedestrian shopping area, but we were only buying street food. A narrow lane off the main drag is so packed with people and food stalls we felt in danger of being bamboo-skewered ourselves with so many double-fisting. The famous photo opp are the still-twitching scorpions on sticks. We bypassed these. As an entomologist, I've sampled a slew of specimens, and frankly, the scorpions seemed all exoskeleton. Giant soup dumplings, on the other hand, were a fun novelty, slurping the soup out with a straw and then trying to figure out how to eat the deflated result. Rich went with predictable but delicious choices - some kind of tentacles grilled and spicy, and for pudding, deep-fried rice flour sesame balls. I also tried and loved a kebab of unknown fruit, glazed in hardened sugar syrup and sesame seeds. The fruit looked like a rounder strawberry, tasted like cooked rhubarb, and contained hard seeds. Later we found out the fruit is Chinese hawthorn, and the kebab form is a very traditional treat known as tanghulu. Yum!

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