Let me begin this entry with saying my mother doesn’t always know best. The long underwear that I carefully put aside in New York to ensure accessibility in Chicago for the final packing to China are now sitting comfortably in a warm drawer in another country because my mother said I would not need them. I’ve now spent $200 (because everything in China is ridiculous) on a pair of long underwear. You might think that is excessive and that I should suck it up and weather through but I’m a wimp and 2 degrees Fahrenheit is exceptionally cold especially in a dry climate at 3,400 feet in the mountains. Keep in mind I am sightseeing outside in the crisp air not comfy museums. It’s probably worth sharing that other than the occasional sweater and short shorts (I still don’t understand), the stores are pretty much only selling coats and thick cashmere pants in various shapes and sizes.

I left Pingyao trying to escape the pollution but Datong has a reputation as one of China’s most polluted cities. Coal mining is the leading industry in Datong and China’s third largest company, Datong Coal Mining, is headquartered here.  In fact, the pollution is so bad in this area that experts estimate life expectancy is 10 years shorter as a result. The government aims to diversify business by focusing on tourism and machinery but coal is king. There are numerous trucks on the road transporting coal from the mountains to other parts of the country and several coal plants sit on the outskirts of the city. The pollution didn’t impact me since it flurried on and off clearing the air and bringing blue skies and sunshine.

Datong is known as a prefectural city or regional level city, which means it ranks below a province and country. Its population is about 3.5 million people and it’s located in the Shanxi province sandwiched between Inner Mongolia and Hebei provinces. It was founded in 200 BC during the Han dynasty. My guide informed me that much of the city’s ancient ruins were destroyed during the cultural revolution of the 70s when leadership pushed to rid the country of the past—of history. Built during the 14th century, locals razed the ancient city wall in an attempt to erase the past and create a new identity in Datong. That obviously backfired as the city just finished re-building the city wall at an estimated cost of 4 billion RB (about $166 Million USD). On the flip side, Pingyao’s ancient city wall is a leading tourism destination because locals at the time did not have enough money to demolish their wall. Live and learn I always say.

Even though I hate my hotel and I am freezing, I made up my mind that I will never again return to Datong so I must bundle up and get to the sightseeing. After a 40-minute conversation involving one-word translations and finally breaking down and texting my Xi’an guide (she probably regrets the day she gave me her cell number), I hired a taxi driver to drive me to an ATM and the Yungang Grottoes, wait for me while I toured and then bring me back to the hotel. The irony is that the taxi driver spoke about 100 words more than 10 people combined at the HoJo. My favorite thing about the Chinese is that they actually DO NOT SPEAK ENGLISH yet when you ask they respond “yes” or “a little.”

Today, I was surely taped for an episode of bloopers. I asked the women at the front desk if they spoke English.  They both replied a little so I said I wanted to hire a car to see the Yungang Grottoes.  Lady Desk 1 and Lady Desk 2 had no idea what I was talking about so I said “tour” and “famous” nope –nothing. Then I asked for a map, blank stares again. I managed to translate “cave” in Mandarin and a light bulb went off. If the area is known for the grottoes, isn’t that maybe the one word in English that might be helpful.  I guess not.

The taxi driver proved to be my savior. He took me to a great ATM and off we went to the Yungang Grottoes. Created by the Wei Dynasty around 460-494, the grottoes contain more than 50,000 carved images and statues of Buddha and bodhisattva (enlightenment bodhi and being sattva).  The carvings are the only remaining connection to the Wei dynasty, a minority group mostly made up of Turks and Mongolians. They are also credited with bringing Buddhism to China.

I would have really loved to wander the caves and grounds for hours but I feared the lack of sensation in my legs meant I had limited time to retreat to the entrance gate. I decided to run. I am not a runner and while that alleviated the pain in my feet it did not help my upper thighs. Thankfully, the exit gave way to a few slightly heated souvenir shops and a bathroom. Once in the stall, I gently pulled down my pants and put my stomach on my thighs to regain feeling (I listened in Brownies – body heat). I know exposing the skin to the elements is not recommended but I was concerned. MOM, WHY DID YOU NOT LET ME PACK MY LONG UNDERWEAR?

The Yungang grottoes are definitely worth a stop but I would have preferred 1.)an English guide 2.) 50F+ temperatures. It was not lost on me that billows of smoke from the coal mines stood in the foreground of a place of great historical importance. The air cannot be good for the preservation of these relics.

After Google translation help from my friend Megan– a service that would make this entire Chinese adventure so much easier–I ventured to the mall to find warm pants. Armed with several ways to describe what I needed, “I need warm pants,” “ski pants”, “fleece pants” (Megan added, “I need to find a husband” and “I have hot pants” for fun), sales people jumped to my aid. One such lady hooked arms with me and led me up an escalator and through an entire floor to the most beautiful pair of cashmere lined ski pants for $680. When I pulled out my phone to calculate the price in dollars, I had three women peering at my phone intensely. The one lady was so close to me she could have rested her chin on my shoulder. It was maybe a bit awkward when I waved them off pointing to the number saying “too much.” I browsed on my own locating the hosiery section and finally purchased a Chinese designer pair of leggings, which will double as long underwear for the time being.

The temperature outside  to 20F and I figured I could sneak in one last attraction. I hailed a taxi and showed him a picture of the Huayan Monastery, the temple I wished to visit. The Huayan Monastery is located within the city of Datong – within the new city wall. It’s a massive complex with many different sections all containing various Buddha’s and guardians of the Buddha. It was built during the Liao Dynasty 907-1125 and is the largest and best-preserved monastery of the Liao Dynasty in China. The Emperors during this time period believed in Buddhism and it is thought that the Huayan Monastery was originally the ancestoral temple of the imperial family. During the Ming Dynastry (1368-1644), the temple was divided into two parts: the upper and lower monasteries and both remain today.

Suffering a mild migraine all day, I had been quietly in pursuit of a latte. Convinced a cafe must exist on tourist row of the Huayan Temple area, I pushed myself to suffer through the cold in order to ease the pounding in my head. First loop, I came up empty but after a stop at McDonalds and translating latte I learned I must have missed a cafe. Back on the tourst path, I located a cafe on the third floor of a building. The free wifi it claimed to offer only pertained to locals but I happily sipped my hot and chocolaty mocha with much joy.  Again, the little things matter.

One funny thing I forgot to add previously…..

The barista at the cafe offered me a glass of hot water and when I declined he said, “free.” I said no thank you but it reminded me of something John, my guide told me.  When he was a child, his mothered served him boiled coca-cola with ginger and dates. When I giggled, he said she would do the same for sprite. That all the Chinese serve drinks hot because it’s a superstition that cold is bad.  Mugs of hot water can be found everywhere in China and at every restaurant I’ve been poured a cup of hot water.  I thought they boiled water to kill off the bacteria (lots of metals in their water) but I’ll have to delve deeper.  Hot coca-cola — Go figure!

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Determined to escape the pollution, I set off from Pingyao to Datong early Sunday morning. An English-speaking guide “John” accompanied me for what would be a five-hour drive and believe me at some points it seemed longer but John survived a myriad of questions from me in good form.

John, 26, is single but doesn’t live with his parents. It is rare for Chinese children to leave home before marriage but that is changing. I gathered from John that his overbearing and maybe pushy mother (sounds like most mothers) drove him to seek his independence sooner rather than later. John learned English at a young age because his cousin, a prominent interpreter, exposed him to the language at family gatherings. It likely helped that his parents as educators surrounded him an environment conducive to learning. He is an avid reader and has been his entire life.

When I learned John has a brother, I questioned the one-child rule and he explained that his parents “broke the rules” when they had him (he is 7 years younger). The government could have severely punished the parents but instead they were fined. His parents make about $500 USD a month (that is an average teaching salary). John lives with a roommate in an apartment but his parents bought him a $700,000 RB ($120USD) apartment for when he marries (it’s rented for now). While John is in no hurry to marry, he has dated a few women here and there. His last girlfriend came from Beijing, a city where “you lose all dignity living.” It makes me very excited to get to Beijing. It sounds a lot like New York City. I understand why he is no rush to marry after learning that in China the husband’s family must pay the wife’s family between 10,000-RB-1mil RB ($2,000-$200kUSD) depending on the family’s wealth and position. Additionally, the male pays for the wedding. I take back my previous assessment from a few days ago. Chinese women should really push for the big wedding!

As we passed young trees and newly constructed highways and rail lines, John explained there is a lot of new money in this area because the farmers sold their land to the government who in turn sold it to developers. The farmers who sold their land 10 years ago for $10,000RB($2k USD) are probably pretty distraught. That same land is now worth 1 million RB ($200k USD). The construction that is going on in China is truly remarkable. When I mentioned this to John, he said people joke that the national bird in China is the CRANE…the construction crane. He isn’t kidding. For as far as the eye can see, there are cranes soaring in the skyline.

John and I spent some time talking about the government and the direction the country is heading. To protect him, I will simply say he believes the people have seen overall life improvements and that the current government has worked hard to weed out corruption and build a strong economy. In his city alone, four or five of the local government officials committed a crime and went to jail. I told him it was a lot like my city (Chicago). When I asked him about China’s relationship with Russia, he paused and then said, “Nobody likes Russia but we are next to them so have to make it work.” He spoke at length of the hard times the Chinese endured in the 1800s being beaten by the Tibetans, Mongolians and Muslims and that the country really didn’t thrive until the emergence of Communism. The consensus is to most nationals that China is in a good place. After spending so much time getting to know John, the last thing I wanted to do was venture beyond the car and into the rapidly decreasing temperatures but alas the time came to brave the cold.

First stop, the Wooden Pagoda.

The Wooden Pagoda is the oldest and highest wooden structure in China dating back to 1056 and the Liao Dynasty. People in China refer to it as the First Pagoda in the World because of its distinct architectural structure. It’s very similar to how Legos or Lincoln Logs fit together with brackets as it’s connected by tenors and mortises and not a single nail or rivet used. It’s a beautiful display of traditional Chinese architecture something very rare today. Upon entering the pagoda, a large “golden” Buddha statue greets worshippers and the rest of the structure reveals nine levels of which only five are visible from the outside.

We drove another hour high into the mountains to see the Hanging Temple. The Hanging Temple is built into a cliff on Mount Heng, one of the five sacred mountains of China. It is likely a creation of the Northern Wei dynasty from around 386-534 and is the only known temple that combines all three Chinese traditional religions – Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism. In 2010, Time Magazine deemed it the “top 10 most odd dangerous buildings.” It’s held together with oak crossbeams and chiseled into ridges of the mountain. From a distance, it looks like it’s simply a carving not something habitable. The monastery is located in a small canyon basin, protecting it from fierce weather elements. I wish the same could be said for me. The minute I opened the car door I experienced such a strong gust of wind I thought I somehow catapulted myself from a mountain range in China to the North Pole. No way I could survive the 30-minute hike across the basin to the temple but I mustered up the strength to run to the look out point and snap some photos. I’m not disappointed. It was worth seeing from afar and much better than buying a post card.

A full day of touring and being in the car took its toll on my body, bladder and stomach but alas I arrived for my two night stay at the Howard Johnson in Datong. If you are curious, (I surely was), the HoJo is the same now defunct hotel in the USA. The carpeted floors in my room contained a year’s worth of Chinese hair, the shower leaked to completely flood the bathroom floor and the room temperature stayed steady at 22 degrees C (I require at least 26-30) and the biggest tragedy of all —-no Wi-Fi. Because this trip is about finding the silver lining, the hotel did feature HBO Asia and I enjoyed Fast and Furious (first time), Despicable Me, Jerry McGuire, Newsroom (new episodes of season 3) and BBC, which of course went to black whenever the protests in Hong Kong were reported. Back to what the man in Dali told me on the plane, “This is China Man.”

It will not be lost on many of you that whenever I attempted to search Datong on the Internet (yahoo’s best) “online dating” popped up as a relevant item. There was a television special on “First Look Asia” that reviewed all the online dating tools people are using in China, Japan, India and other parts of Asia. After watching this segment, I want to bring back the age of arranged marriage. I am convinced I would have faired much better under the antediluvian system.

Lastly, I also wanted to set the record straight on Chinese culture in the United States v. China mainly because each of my guides commented on American perceptions of the Chinese – and this pertains mostly to food. To the dismay of many Americans, fortune cookies do not exist in China and the food we eat at home represents only a sliver of what the rest of the country consumes. The first Chinese people in the U.S. originated from Guangzhou commonly referred to us as Canton. It’s located on the Pearl River near Hong Kong and Macau and is the third largest Chinese city. Many “Cantonese” were likely brought over as slaves to build the railroads on the West Coast. While the Cantonese people are biologically Chinese, the rest of the country considers their language and customs foreign. The characters are part of the same system but utilize different pronunciation. The Northerners dialect is harsher and aggressive and the Cantonese language is more singsongy.  They don’t understand each other!

Additionally, Chinese people use their family name first and their given name last so I would be Glynn Kelly or in my guide’s case Loeng Fu. The women do not take the husband’s last name.  John said many families who wish to send their children abroad to school or may eventually move abroad have started naming their children more Western friendly names for example, his cousin named his daughter Kai Lee. John thinks it’s very funny when he meets Americans Chinese tourists because they start the journey saying they are Chinese and end the trip saying they are Americans (who just look Chinese). I guess that’s the same as me saying I am German and Irish and then quickly admitting I’m nothing of the sort (except I am definitely OCD like the Germans).

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