Vignettes of the World
There were two reasons why I visited Zhan Yuan (Zhan Garden). First and foremost, it was only in Zhan Yuan that one could find an exhibition devoted exclusively to the history of Taiping Rebellion in China. Secondly, Zhan Yuan itself is a site of significance. …
Having learned that the museums of Nanjing are closed on Mondays, I was determined to visit the Memorial Hall of the Victims in Nanjing Massacre by Japanese Invaders in Jiangdongmen on Sunday, my second-last full day in Nanjing. For it was one of the main …
When travelling solo, I am always aware of the ebb and flow of my mood. There is a kind of rhythm, a leap of the heart at the excitement of observing unfamiliar scenes and appreciating similarities at the same time. Unforeseen circumstances, be it bad luck or bad planning, can cast a shadow over the trip.
The heat was getting the better of me this afternoon, and I was very tired and miserable. That was, until I visited the Presidential Palace.
The Presidential Palace had a historic presence in Nanjing. Its oldest sections began as early as the Ming Dynasty in the 14th century. It has served as the offices and residence of the Liangjiang Viceroy during the Qing Dynasty. When the Taiping Rebellion captured Nanjing and named it the capital, this site was the throne room of the Taiping Heavenly King Hong Xiu Quan. During the Republican period, the Nationalist Party took over the building to serve as the government headquarters, thus naming it the Presidential Palace. Under the Japanese occupation, the venue served as the headquarters of the puppet government, which Wang Jingwei headed. When WWII was over, the Nationalists once again named this site the Presidential Palace until the Communists took over in 1949.[1]
This long history was a lot for me to learn, but thankfully the exhibitions inside the many halls and assembly rooms in the site explained amply to the tourist. The exhibitions covered the history of the Presidential Palace under the Qing Dynasty (focusing on the life of Zeng Guofan, a Qing Liangjiang Viceroy known for the Westernization Movement), the Taiping Rebellion, and the Republication period till WWII. The huge crowd there prevented me from taking time at the exhibits, however. The enormous site was barely big enough for all those tourists. Eventually, I gave up and decided to visit the outlaying gardens and lakes instead. Before leaving, I visited the former residence of Sun Yatsen in the northern center of the site. I have always admired Dr. Sun Yatsen.
Exiting the Presidential Palace, one finds a tourist attraction of a markedly different character. The 1912 is a hip bar street with many establishments to choose from. I decided to sit down with a cold drink before the next destination. Sitting across from me was Sunny from Canton. She thought I might be a southerner by the way I spoke mandarin.
She told me about her life working in Nanjing. Even though her family has a small restaurant in Canton, she decided to work for a trading company. She thought she must learn all the skills first before one day she takes up the family business. The company has not provided a fair arrangement for her, and she was thinking of changing jobs. Before we said goodbye, she told me a crucial bit of information: the main attractions in Nanjing are closed on Mondays.
This chanced meeting with a Cantonese girl restored my spirit. I was ready to head out to the Fuzimiao area to see the Qinhuai River.
Many tourists flooded Nanjing on this long weekend of Ching Ming Festival. Perhaps the Fuzimiao (Confucius Temple) area was the epitome of China’s appetite for the tourist economy. The whole area was built to the looks of ancient Chinese structures to elicit a sense of the historic. The original Confucius Temple in the area was long ago destroyed in Nanjing’s unfortunate historical events. What was standing there was not a historic relic but a structure of the 1980s. Properly understood, the area was a tourism project that drew enormous crowds looking for food and shopping.
Worthy of note was the celebration of ancient China’s top scholars (zhuangyuan) at the pavilion across from the former site of the Confucius Temple. Every year’s top scholar made public appearance at the top floor of this pavilion, although according to my guide book it was not clear if this structure might have been a rendition from the 1984 restoration project.[2]
There was a long line for the tickets to the Qinhuai river boat. I was determined to see the Qinghuai River, for the Nanjing people considered it the life blood of the city. That said, the area was known to be the “boys’ playground” since its revival in the Ming and Qing Dynasties, all the way until the Japanese occupation. “Pleasure boats” brought rich and powerful men to this area for secret meetings. Stories of the eight beauties of Qinhuai celebrated the gifted courtesans that could paint, play music and write poems. They entertained their guests by performance only.
The Qinhuai River has inspired many poets in the past. Tang Dynasty Poets like Du Mu, Li Bo and Liu Yuxi have written about the Qinhuai River. Some impressed readers with scenes of prosperity; while some wrote about the romance; still others lamented the rise and fall of dynasties that the river witnessed.
The 45-minute boat ride came with a lecture on the history of Qinhuai River. There seemed to be a story at every turn of the river, at every bridge that we passed under, and at every street that lined the riverside. I was amazed, as this very water flowed with history. With the best of intentions, however, I was not able to focus on the recorded lecture. Soon enough, I found myself absorbed by the scenery before me. Before my eyes were images of the river’s glorious past.
I ended the night doing what tourists did. I had all the Nanjing street food that I wanted, and bought Nanjing souvenirs. Despite the disastrous first half, the rest of the day was wonderful, and I came back to the hotel satisfied.
[1] Eric N Danielson, Nanjing and the Lower Yangzi, The Definitive Travel Guide at 89-90.
[2] Id. at 118.
The afternoon was bright and it was becoming very hot. I headed to the southwestern part of the city looking for food. The plan was to visit the Memorial Hall of the Victims in Nanjing Massacre by Japanese Invaders in Jiangdongmen after lunch. I was …
I booked this trip to Nanjing in April 2019 for a brief three-and-a-half days, originally hoping to relax. If not for this blog, I would not have pushed myself over the limit on this trip. I walked so much that my feet swelled. On my …
It was only in the Xuanwuhu Tunnel that I noticed flashlights about once every ten seconds or so. I asked the driver what those were.
“Those are cameras. They capture the cars that pass by, thereby tracing the movement and direction of every car in the city.”
“Only in the tunnels?”
“No, all over Nanjing City. They are on all roads, you didn’t notice?”
Indeed, I did not notice. From the airport to the city, I rode on the airport bus. Under broad daylight, I simply did not notice cameras flashing. The airport bus dropped me off at Nanjing Train Station, I then caught a cab to go to my hotel.
When I asked for a cab ride, the cab drivers pointed me to this driver. I told him that I wanted metered taxi. He said, either meter or by negotiation. He quoted ￥40. When I got into the cab, there was simply no meter. Too late now, I thought to myself, ￥40 and so be it. This was what the Chinese people call “cattle car (huangniuche).”
There was quite a bit of conversation on this 15-minute ride. I asked about the famous Xuanwu Lake, and the driver told me that we would be going around the Lake, via the Xuanwuhu Tunnel, to arrive at the hotel.
“So, in fact, these cameras are for surveillance?”
“Surveillance and control,” he replied in Mandarin.
I noticed that he kept saying “OK, OK” in his mid-sentences. I figured that even though I spoke Mandarin, he thought of me as some sort of a foreigner, and the only English speech that he could do was “OK.” It was quite humorous. Maybe I spoke Mandarin like a foreigner does. It has been almost twenty years since I lived in Beijing.
The first impression of Nanjing was how neat and orderly it was, and I judged it so by the way that the travelers’ baggage were handled at the airport. There was no employee at the pickup carousel. When the baggage came out, someone has laid them orderly for pickup already, with a uniform spacing in between each and the handles on top. I was impressed—the way that Nanjing welcomed its travelers certainly surpassed that of Hong Kong.
I said that it must be so nice to be living in Nanjing city. The driver said, “well, it is a second-tier city.” I asked him what the first-tier cities were. He said, “you know, Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, Shenzhen.” I assured him that Shenzhen was in no way comparable to Nanjing.
There are about 8 million Nanjing residents. Adding 2 million people from other provinces (waishengren), the population of Nanjing is about 10 million. When I learned that, I thought Nanjing is a major city. Only when I was visiting the city the following days did I fully appreciate this figure and its consequences on daily life.
The driver showed me some key transportation along the way, pointing me to the metro stations, the bus stops and introducing me to the surrounding areas. I sensed that he thought there was no need to do taxi’s at all in Nanjing.
There was an inkling in my heart that I should tip him some, but for some reason, I ended up not doing so. That turned out to be wise. I learned on the last day of my trip (the only other time that I took a taxi) that a metered taxi on the same journey, and with traffic, would only cost ￥25.
This driver made one of my first impressions of Nanjing. He was a man of the street, knowing the city very well and maneuvering the roads with great ease. He also knew the lone female traveler’s gullibility. It would be fair to call him Old Nanjing (note: not to suggest that the Nanjing people are deceitful, as they certainly are not). I was actually glad that I met him. The conversations were priceless.
It would be too late to visit the Xuanwu Lake that early evening. I opted for a sumptuous dinner at the famous Lion Bridge (Shiziqiao) food street. I will write more about the food of Nanjing in later entries.
What a wonderful first day.
By Ha Jin It was an emotional experience reading this book. Told from the perspective of Anling, a foreman at Jinling Women’s College in Nanjing, the narrative pries open one of the most painful chapters in modern Chinese history—the Rape of Nanking. The story begins …
In the mall at Abu Dhabi, I saw a lady completely covered in black, from head to toe. She was very tall. Her towering figure allowed no exposure of her features except for her height. That was the most conservative expression of Islam that I …
“I have never seen a place with such little soul.”
This was a comment of a friend who visited Dubai last year. It was a provocative statement. When I heard it, I took a step back and probed my memory of Dubai. Was it a place of little soul?
After a lavish time in Abu Dhabi, I returned to Dubai, and with it came a reality check. Unlike the hotels of the paid tour, this time I was staying in a dormitory-type accommodation with three Chinese ladies. I considered it a privilege to be able to experience the reality of the Chinese workers’ life in Dubai.
The church rented these apartments to serve as dormitory for the Christian Chinese workers. One lady was in the express courier business, the other worked in a bank. Unfortunately, they had to work long hours and I did not have a good chat with them. The condition of the apartment was a stark reminder of my time at the poorly-maintained, rent-controlled college apartments at UC Berkeley. The bathroom was nearly atrocious. I was glad though that the bunk bed served its purpose and I slept well at night.
My father’s friend took us to dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Perhaps the most significant difference between Chinese culture and Islamic culture is the Chinese people’s daily reliance on pork as a source of protein. The Chinese restaurants in Dubai either did not serve pork, or they had to apply for a special license in order to do so.
I think the soul of Dubai was in the Dubai Museum. The excellent exhibits showed the history of Dubai, its place in the UAE and its humble beginning. During the first half of the 20th century, Dubai traded in pearls. Its people harvested pearl in the Dubai Creek. Those were hard times, and the people of Dubai did not forget the days of poverty before they discovered oil in the 1960s. When they began trading oil, wealth poured in. One of the most brilliant decisions of the rulers of Dubai was to invest in education. The enormous wealth from the oil trade propelled the changeover of the city. It continued to develop into the very modern, sophisticated and business-oriented Dubai that we see today. Surely, much of this glory was man-made, and that explained why Dubai seemed to be a place of little soul.
The exhibits of the museum were very engaging. The descriptions were concise and the English was very good. The wax statues were beautiful. They presented a historical, authentic narrative that tourists would not be able to imagine having only seen the city in its present day.
Yet the oil trade might be coming to an end soon, as the oil reserves are drained now. Dubai is at a cross-road today. The people of Dubai are once again re-making the city to prepare for the days without oil. Tourism is one direction that the city is taking, and indeed many of the infrastructure, innovations and constructions are done with the intention to attract the top echelon of world tourists.
In the afternoon our tour guide led us through many of these sites of wonder, including the river boat ride, the largest man-made island in the world, the six-star hotel with its crisscrossing waterways, and finally the tallest building in the world.
I could hardly enjoy these wonderful sites though, because after lunch I got very sick. On this very last day in the Middle East, the best memory remained that of the Dubai Museum, where I met the soul of Dubai.
It came time to say goodbye finally. The tour group boarded the plane to fly back to Dubai. Yang, a fellow tour member, invited me to her home in Abu Dhabi. We arrived late night after an hour and a half of driving from Dubai. …