After a jam-packed day yesterday we were pleased to have a more relaxed program today. Our first stop was at the imposing Ming dynasty city walls -- 15+ meters high and 12 meters wide at the top -- that completely surround the old city (they are 17 km long). Actually, although they are called "Ming dynasty", like many things in China their actual age is a matter of definition. They were originally built in the Ming (1368-1644) but large stretches had become half-ruined, or even dismantled entirely, prior to being renovated and rebuilt in recent years. So, are they Ming or modern?
And if you think the answer is Ming, what about the Tang imperial palace -- four times larger than the Forbidden City in Beijing -- that has recently been rebuilt north of the city? It was apparently so completely ruined that it was rebuilt from foundation traces and contemporary pictures and documents... one can't talk about renovation here. So, is it new or is it Tang? And in many temples the cult buildings are made of wood with tile roofs... which are regularly rebuilt after destruction by fire or rot. How old are they?
It seems to me that in some ways the question "how old" doesn't really make sense for many things in China, and after a while one gives up asking it and just learns to recognize period styles. At any rate, the Chinese don't seem to worry much about whether or not something is original or rebuilt... the Tang palace mentioned above is a major attraction for Chinese tourists (although apparently not (yet?) for Westerners...).
Interesting side note (or, at any rate, interesting to me) -- I've never been that concerned about the antiquity or lack thereof of things I own. I'm just as happy with a new edition of an old work as I would be with a first edition; it makes no difference for me whether a piece of furniture is antique or a modern reproduction (as long as the quality is the same). I must be Chinese at heart :-).
Returning to the walls... very impressive. We rented bicycles (Madeleine and Koko initially sharing a tandem and much laughter -- they are about the same age) and rode along the top of the wall enjoying the views on the inside and the outside. The walls are surrounded by a wide moat, full of water, set within a beautifully landscaped park... just well done, like many other things seen and glimpsed in Xi'an.
Afterwards we had lunch and then drove to the Great Mosque in the center of the city, which, it turns out, is an Islamic quarter (there are about 40,000 Muslims in Xi'an). Once again, very interesting... although this time less for what it was than for what it wasn't: at first look, one doesn't realize that it is a mosque. Architecturally it is very similar to Daoist and Buddhist temples. And then one notices the occasional piece of Arabic script (among the many Chinese inscriptions), and the absence of figurative sculpture, then one sees the washroom.... Apparently when Islam came to China the then Emperor was unconcerned about the religious choices of his subjects... but he cared a great deal about aesthetics. "You can worship who you want, but you'll do it in my architecture" seems to have been his attitude! Says something quite profound about China, actually.
And then it was time to leave Xi'an and, more difficult, to say goodbye to Koko. We really bonded with her over the course of the two days we spent there -- such a sunny character, full of youthful energy but suprisingly wise in many ways. I think we would have liked Xi'an anyway, but Xi'an with Koko we loved. We exchanged cards, promised to stay in touch, and separated with a few tears on both sides.
The flight to Guilin was delayed an hour or so, as Koko had said it probably would be -- the airline (one of several domestic ones) apparently having a poor reputation for being ontime -- but with books and the iPad we weren't bored. There were many other foreigners on the flight... the first time since Beijing that we had seen more than the occasional Westerner: Xi'an and Guilin are two of the "must see" destinations on any tour of China and tourists often make up a significant proportion of the airline passengers between the two cities. In Guilin we were met by our new local guide, Lily, a Chinese woman in her mid-forties, married to an American from Oregon, who did not impress at first, or, unfortunately, later. We came out of the terminal into the late evening and ran into a stifling wall of hot humidity... Miami in summer, we said to one another. Already we missed Xi'an.
