It goes without saying that one of the best parts of living in China for four years is the ability to really explore this vast country and see an incredible number of places. Luckily, working at a public high school as an English teacher who doesn't have to proctor exams has afforded me a series of extensive vacations that I don't think I'll ever find at another job, even working for myself. Last summer, I traveled (mostly solo) for seven weeks around China. If you're curious about what exactly that entailed, here are some excerpts from my journal:
Luoyang 洛阳
It was easy to take bus No. 53 to its last stop from nearby the hostel in Luoyang. The Chinese name for the Longmen Grottos literally means "Dragon's Gate." True to rumor, they really do look like honeycombs - so many Buddhas tucked in nooks and cubbies on either side of a wide, muddy river, climbing mountains one by one - many missing heads and hands due to destruction from a number of peoples, from archaeologists to foreign powers to the Chinese themselves during the Cultural Revolution. Visitors can still see some red pigment on a few of the ceilings, lotus blossoms, benevolent faces and mudras made with hands. I went to two temples as well while in Luoyang; they were nice, but compared to the grottoes, not distinctive enough to write about. The second, of course, was under construction.
Pingyao 平遥
After a day on the train, I took an electric bike to the hidden Harmony Hotel and wandered the main thoroughfares of the old town. It's easy to potter around Pingyao - I walked around city walls, I walked around aimlessly. I had breakfast at the hostel, lunch at a random noodle shop, and dinner at Sakura, where the people next to me were speaking Spanish, with an accent from Spain. Understanding all the words! Music to my ears!
Pingyao is what China should look like, albeit oddly Spanish. (If my students can think American high school is "relaxing" and that people in the US eat McDonald's every day, I can think this!) Pingyao is like a Chinese Toledo, like a castle. What it needs is a Zocotren - but there is a pretty sweet Rolls Royce electric tram that rolls around the stones and art schools, which I'm pretty sure is the public bus. I wished, again, that I could draw. I could write a story that takes place here. If only words would come... On the second day, I ate xiao long bao dipped in vinegar for breakfast, and the famous Pingyao Beef for lunch - it's Irish corned beef! The afternoon was easily filled with some aimless wandering and shopping. Shopkeepers were friendlier than others recently, and complimented my Chinese. In the evening, I found myself in Migu Coffee, a trendy little coffee shop and bookstore, drinking tea with a golden retriever. I sought out veggies for dinner and a mini foot massage.
If there's a haunted China, Pingyao is it. If there weren't tourists, there would be ghosts. I walked around half of the city wall (the rest was closed for construction) which delighted me to gaze up on the rooftops and courtyard gardens. I stopped into China's first draft bank (which Dad would have loved), a Taoist temple covered in desert dust, odd museums and historic houses (noting the heating systems for kang beds, complete with woks and tea kettles). In the end, it seems, artisans' life works are relegated to the dark corners of obscure museums.
If only people would walk around in period costume. It's so easy to see it, visiting places like the old government building and Confucius Temple. The city tower is now closed for climbing, but the government building had a small one. I wandered aimlessly again and found a swing in the Confucius Temple, which was the most rejuvenating 15 minutes - birds chirping and flapping, what sounded like harp music and water, a rose bush, a breeze - just what I need to be happy sometimes. I loved to see the kids playing in hidden doorways, and imagined the games they might have with themselves and their grandparents. One morning I saw a boy as happy as could be run across the street and sprinkle something into his grandfather's breakfast porridge. How charming. What would Isabel Allende think of Pingyao? That afternoon's walk yielded Pingyao's secret garden. If it said no trespassing, I couldn't read it, and I had no desire to learn. Sorry, Mr. Police Officer, 我看不懂。That´s my story right there. Looking in all the doorways, one can see double happiness, the character for longevity, or a portrait of Chairman Mao. Over a stone wall, one occasionally catches a whiff of livestock mixed with Pingyao's vinegar perfume - I would ride a horse in Pingyao. But if it's so famous for beef, where are the cows? What if Mary and Joseph had had booking.com for the inn?
Lanzhou 兰州
Lanzhou was just a quick stopover in Gansu Province. I spied chocolate rivers and goats from the train, cave dwellings and mines; I spent most of my time in the seat by the window (I felt justified as I was in the middle bunk - but I got good rest and a nap). Not enough inspiration, somehow, to write much. Was it too dry? I got the original la mian for dinner, but I have to admit I liked the ones in Hengyang/Hunan better. I picked up fruit and bread for the bus ride the following day (so different from train snacks!!!). It was strange to be staying in a real hotel, with my own room and bathroom, and a balcony with a city view (not bad from the 21st floor). It was like the US - private but sterile. I had an early morning, but at least I got a direct bus and there was no one else in my room to prevent me from sleeping well.
Xiahe 夏河
Monks in burgundy robes added a splash of color to the otherwise bleak landscape; nuns with shaved heads smiled and prostrated themselves in front of prayer wheels. The pilgrims consisted of rural Tibetans, Chinese tour groups, and the odd foreigner, accosted by beggars. Some of the locals reminded me of Peruvians, with high-altitude ruddy faces, stocky bodies, leathered skin, and braided hair under mismatched hats. They didn't smile as much as people from warmer places, though the dueña of the place where I had lunch pushed vinegar and la jiao at me when it wasn't on my table. It seemed the diet there consisted of lamb, yak dairy products, and bread. Is it strange to say I didn't like it? I have a hard time feeling peaceful when I'm cold in summer, when it's blustery, damp, and gray outside. In a short time, we had a nice thunderstorm and possibly hail, followed rapidly by bright sunshine. Yet, trees on the surrounding mountains were scarce; things were rocky and scrubby. It reminded me of Shangri-La and suddenly I didn't want to go to Tibet. It was dark early and there was still not a star in the sky. The saving grace was the graceful large birds that I saw flying overhead twice. I could see how they'd be a good omen to a sheep herder.
The next day was a better day in the monastery. It's amazing what yak butter sunshine and an English speaking tour will do. I got bus tickets in the morning - a breeze. 羊肉汤 for breakfast was delicious and hit the spot. I started walking the kora backwards for orientation and a better view; I was wondering what effect this would have on the flow of energy when an elderly monk pointed me in the right direction. We walked together for a bit, and at first, I couldn't understand what he was trying to tell me, but eventually I realized he was teaching me the prayer chant. The lay Tibetan woman with him asked me if I was married in her local language, and somehow, through sign language, I managed to convey that I was alone. I couldn't tell what she thought of that. Meeting the two of them was a good story.
The English tour afterwards consisted of 4 Israelis, 3 French, 2 Dutch, an Englishman, me, and a Chinese Tiger Mom with three young girls who were like, "听不懂" the whole time (her husband wasn't with them - maybe he was on the Chinese tour?!). The Dutch girl was studying Engineering in Beijing; the Englishman had dropped out of college and was wandering from Australia to Central Asia. The best part of the tour was seeing the medicine college, and the yak butter sculptures next to the museum (I had wondered where the smell was coming from).
Days of Travel
I took the morning bus back to Lanzhou, next to a group of deaf Chinese. It was a great seat with no pressure to chat as we passed mosques and terraced farmland. I shared a taxi with a German couple and stayed at the same hotel as before, albeit in a cheaper room. (Apparently the hotels listed in Lonely Planet have closed - from the looks of them, the lady in the taxi told the truth.) I spent the whole afternoon in the room, but barely studied any Chinese - Marisela's tea set arrived and I wrote her an email on how to use it.
The following day was swallowed by a 12 hour bus to Jiuzhaigou...I did not realize it would be so long. In the taxi on the way to the bus station, in the Muslim area of town, streets were filled with butchers and hanging animal carcasses - they looked like pigs, but they couldn't be, of course...they must have been lamb (and/or goat - Chinese doesn't distinguish between them) or beef. I wonder if they were Halal? There was a pervasive smell of rotting flesh in the city's air. The bus was a little late, and old ladies stole my seat, but I lucked out with a window. On the bus ride, I saw more yaks than people. Yaks, yak patties to burn, a lot of sheep, a few pigs, and later a lot of horses to rent (for pictures, probably) by fake yurts for tour groups. The land was like rolling astroturf - not a tree in sight. Nomadic tents dotted the canvas. Only white clouds, blue sky, and green grass for hours on end - quite the change after the skyscrapers of Lanzhou. It looked a lot like Shangri-La, a little like Peru and a wee bit like Scotland. I felt devoid of research on Tibetan culture and the Silk Road. We stopped for 20 minutes for lunch (I ate the worst xiao chao rou ever - it was definitely not Hunan food) and bathroom breaks. I arrived after dark to the hotel, and thus the only space left was the all-female dorm - nice and quiet, but damp and cold, and for some reason we couldn't figure out how to turn the main light off when most of us went to sleep (it was off in the morning, though). The next morning I moved to the 5th floor mixed dorm, which had mountain views and a terrace.
Jiuzhaigou 九寨沟
Jiuzhaigou is a beautiful place, if not unique. It was a little like the 4,000 Islands and the Itchetucknee meet the mountains. The setting is a vibrant palate...most notably, the beguiling assortment of blue colors - ice blue, menthol blue, aquamarine, turquoise blue, cobalt blue, sapphire blue, ultramarine - encapsulated in the water, kept from escaping by nets of tree trunks. It would be a great place to go skinny dipping, SCUBA dive, or be a mermaid - but none of these are allowed. Perhaps the Loch Ness Monster vacations there. The depths hold secrets only the underwater man can tell, of submerged castles and caves leading to rivers. Only two things annoyed me - closed paths (as always - but in China, why do they maintain only one?) and herds of people in the same place, leaving other areas completely empty. I took the bus up and walked the whole way down from the Swan Lake side (ha!). I had two scares, though - between Swan Lake and Panda Lake there were no busses, but I insisted on walking on the highway, as I thought there should have been a path. It was terrifying. The green busses barely make a sound until they're about to run you over, and there were scores of them constantly. At the end, near the Zharu Temple (which I didn't dare go inside at the time) I took a path which was labeled as closed for fire danger on the opposite end only - so I was completely alone the whole time, which would have been pretty and serene had the park not been about to close when I realized how long the path was. I saw a skunk and a fox, I think, but no other people anywhere, and barely any busses on the other side of the road (which probably couldn't see me), and no bridges to get across. It's embarrassing to say now, but I was actually scared of getting stuck in the park. In contrast to the previous day's extreme of 12 hours on a bus, the day in the park I was on my feet for 13 hours straight. My knees hurt, my feet hurt, and my wrist, for some reason, hurt. Still, undeterred, I went back the following day - at a more leisurely pace. 
Songpan 松潘
The bus was slightly delayed but I arrived fine. The hostel was a little disappointing, and horse options seemed to be just me on a three-day trek to Ice Mountain - I was not too excited about sleeping in the cold as the only person on the tour, so I decided against it. It seems Songpan's horse hayday has passed and Langmusi was the place to do it, and the backpacker vibe has moved on as well. Still, I liked the town - massage and eateries right outside the hotel, fruit in the streets, a wall and gates and bridges, yak meat everywhere and local shops mixed in the touristy things. It seemed the ethnicities - Tibetans and monks, Hui Muslims, Han Chinese - blended much better here than in Xiahe, and the local people seemed especially friendly, always meeting my eyes and smiling and saying hello, and kids playing badminton in the streets. I wiled away the afternoon in a charming tea shop, trip planning and writing.
Chengdu 成都
The bus ride from Songpan to Chengdu was filled with some stunning Sichuan scenery - tall mountains, narrow valleys, ancient villages of wooden houses and stone watchtowers, river churning like the stomachs of some of the bus's passengers, farms and men combing their yaks for the odd tourist photo (no takers were seen). Still, the train, it is a comin'...over, apparently. It mostly looked like tunnels as I passed, but the concrete support beams will soon snuff the light out...bad for the village culture, anthropologically speaking, but good opportunities for the individual people in terms of access to education, health care, business...
Arriving in Chengdu was a little like arriving in Hengyang, with shopping malls and busy streets and non-descript architecture and anonymity. It was refreshing, in a way, like real life. I bought hair dye, a face mask, new underwear and bra. Suddenly I didn't want to feel like a scrummy backpacker, at least for a few days...I'm still a gypsy at heart.
The next day was a down day. I slept in until 8, made travel plans in my new silk nightgown in the room. Then I walked down the same street Lisa and I took the moto on, and had lunch at the lovely vegetarian restaurant in Wenshu Temple. It was nice to eat something clean and healthy. The woman who shared my table emitted calm, prayed over her food, and concentrated on each bite with her eyes closed. I liked the feel of the temple - like it wasn't posing. There were tourists, yes, but there were also monks in the monastery, Chengdu residents lingering in the garden over ponds with water clear enough to see fish and turtles, events going on in the tower...Of course I stopped in the teahouse, in front of a lovely little fountain. I had tie guanyin in a large brewing cup (an excuse to buy these!), filled by handsome young Chinese men wielding copper pots with long, thin spouts. Right nearby a white teenage girl appeared to be with her Chinese summer host family. There was a woman smoking at a table alone, with her cup of tea amidst the bamboo. (As much as I don't like smoking, good for her for going against the grain and doing what she wants.) The man at my table was apparently on a business trip from Guangzhou, but my Chinese was too stilted to converse much, so he got his ears cleaned by the man who was rattling a metal set of tongs - I wondered what he was doing; apparently, apart from advertising, these tongs are used to stimulate something in the ear. The dude just walks around with his tools in his hand, making noise in the teahouse. I wanted to take a picture, but I felt it would have been invasive. At the buffet lunch, I spied a mysterious and attractive Tibetan man wandering in flowing clothes. I liked that he had long hair.
Langzhong 阆中
Zigong 自贡
They rushed me on the bus so fast I didn't even have time to look at my ticket - when we stopped at the rest stop, the bus didn't say "Zigong" at all, and I could barely see because I was in the last seat, in the back with no window...but in the end, they dropped me off on the right corner, confirmed by the driver and the woman who took my ticket, my bag was there where the man who came to collect me put it, and I found the hotel easily. Whew! I went to the teahouse in the afternoon...sweltering, but with a pretty river and temple view. I studied Chinese a little. I think if I could do my master's again, I would study Chinese tea culture - types of tea, types of teahouses, different ways of and utensils for serving. There was a man there who was the perfect picture of an ancient scholar - long white hair and wispy beard, round little glasses, pouring so contentedly over a piece of calligraphy that he didn't notice my presence. I missed Nano.
I observed the city without any attractions. I saw a sign for rabbit, passed the salt well on the bus to the dinosaur museum. It looked like a fine place to live, like Hengyang, comfortable, but lacking tourism - which is ok.
Emei Shan 峨眉山/峨嵋山
Every time I climb a mountain, I ask myself why I did it. Then, I found myself in the Elephant Bathing Pool Monastery on Emei Shan Mountain. It was the best part of the mountain - a beautiful red wood building leaning on one side, about to slide off the cliff, with a pool of clear water containing carp and koi, and a white elephant statue. There was a hot shower, with a view almost as good as the one on the Gibbon Experience in Laos. There was a salt foot bath in the courtyard (no massage, but that reminded me of the xi jiao with a river view in Luang Prabang). There was a nice vegetarian dinner in the dining room, and a sunset view with gorgeous clouds and mountains from the terrace (I just would have traded the monkeys for a porch swing). There was an electric blanket on my bed - heaven! I had three roommates - a nice Korean girl who was working in China, a bubbly Chinese girl who was escaping pressure in Chengdu, and - the best one - a Chinese woman who was traveling with a monk. At first I thought she said he was her teacher/master but when I asked if she studied with him, she said no, and I couldn't understand the rest (it was all in Chinese). But there's a story! They spent the sunset together on the patio, and she was the only one who didn't come back as I was writing....I love it. The monk was kind and chatted with me in Chinese a little, as well, and called me 厉害 (li hai, strong) like so many others that day. Yes, I climbed up the mountain for over 8 hours...but I planned to stay in another monastery and just kept going because I was afraid of the monkeys! I think I lucked out in the end. Still, I'll take it if a monk wants to call me brave and strong! 
Amazingly, I didn't feel too tired or sore or even hungry...but I sure did sleep well. Good thing, because in the temple it was breakfast at 6 am and then sunrise.
July 30-August 7
I met up with Kitty, her husband, and many other teachers from our school and their families to travel around Sichuan for a week. It wasn't a tour group with a guide waving a flag and microphone, but it was similarly chaotic - lots of people, different city every night, lots of hours in the car, too much emphasis on finding restaurants and accommodations that were just like home, lots of picture taking...not enough of getting to know a place and making memories with friends. Thus, there wasn't much time for writing. Still, here's a riddle for you:
In Zoige, northern Sichuan...I was sitting by a fire (it was high enough to be freezing on August 4) in an office where Kitty, Boston, and Mr. Jiang were being questioned by the local police. Two thugs were sitting in the lobby nearby with some minor officers. Cute Mr. Deng was waiting outside, and the adorable woman from the apartment complex (his wife!!!) was at the hotel down the street. The owner of the hotel was in the hospital. About 20 other people were sitting around waiting for a sign to be made. How did we get there?
(Answer: The construction site across the street scratched Abiao's car, and it resulted in a fistfight. The sign was a thank-you gift for the hotel owner trying to stick up for him.)
Just another day in China...
Chongqing 重庆
The first day in Chongqing, I wandered around the area, bought a skirt with cats and a woman's face, did my accounts in Starbucks, and made it back to the hostel just as a fantastic thunderstorm started. I was invited to eat dinner with the family and workers of the place, which was delicious and lovely, even with them scooping out the overflowing fishpond with buckets. There are two male solo travelers (a young one and an old one), two white women, two Chinese women, two Dutch boys, an interracial couple, some random Chinese guys, and a single Chinese girl...perhaps others...staying that night. The hostel had two lovely courtyards and a bar with a pool table. Although the room itself was dark, the other areas were charming and brimming with character.
I spent the morning travel planning and reading, and after a Morrison's-style lunch, the lady from the hostel helped me buy train tickets from Yichang to Shanghai. The line for the cable car was too long, so I took bus 382 from one end to the other, past an amusement park on the river. I went to a temple that actually inspired me to write something - not only did they have a teahouse (not as common in Chongqing as in Chengdu), a woman was praying discretely in a cave...somehow mystically. There was a room full of expressive Buddhas or disciples who could have been from all races (they certainly did not all look Asian).
Yangtze River Boat "Cruise"
Alas, it is probably true that the Chongqing to Wanzhou section of the Yangtze River boat trip could have been skipped, as Lonely Planet said. There was only one stop, the Ghost City, which I elected not to take, as it was up a mountain in the new part of the city as opposed to the ruins. Instead I took a nap and did a pomegranate face mask. The rest of the boat ride was through blasé scenery, not helped by gray and drizzly weather. It was very different from the two-day boat trip down the Mekong, though, or the cruise through Halong Bay. There were no villages on the banks with swimming children and women in saris washing their hair. On the first day, there were no fantastic karst formations lining the waterway (though supposedly this was coming with the Gorges). Instead, the water was dirty, there were half-constructed cities along the route using the river in purely utilitarian ways, and the Chinese-air-conditioner men on board threw their trash overboard without batting an eye. Indeed, most passengers - thus far - seemed content to sleep, eat, smoke, and play mahjong. There weren't even seats on the observation deck. Still, how often does one get to spend the night/day on a boat on a river? That alone made the extra 24 hours worth it. Until we actually arrived, I was not clear if we were doing the Zhang Fei Temple at 10pm that night (seemed unlikely, but the guide said 今天) or 10 the following morning, which would have made more sense (she also said 十点 and not 二十二点) as it was supposed to be after Wanzhou anyway. 10 pm it was!
Yi Chang 宜昌
I like to think I'm a flexible traveler for being able to stay in dorms in cheap hostels, but it is nice to splurge and pamper oneself every once in a while. The Ramada gave loofah scrubs in its toiletries - after a gritty boat ride, how scrumptious to be able to scrub my skin, do a passionfruit face mask, dab on a little tiger balm and body lotion, sleep in a bed with a soft mattress and down pillow, and wake to yoga in front of a window with a city view? I even ordered room service...which I ate in my robe and plush slippers. There was free coffee, tea (oolong and longjing), and water in the room.
It was no small thing I wasn't woken up by the intercom, either. On the boat, it was a little like school - everyone was woken up by a loudspeaker which was, well...loud...announcing that breakfast is in 10 minutes, here's the day's schedule, it's time to get off the boat, and playing instrumental pop music (at least go for some nautical-themed stuff -- even Titanic wouldn't have been out of place). It was impossible to turn off because, even if you turned the one in the room all the way down, you could still hear the one in the hallway and everywhere else. Not that the Chinese family in the room wasn't following its every instructions, anyway...It reminded me a bit of cattle, the way everyone was herded around (not just on that boat, but many places in China). There were literally NO seating areas on the viewing decks of the boat...everyone just came out when the intercom announced there was something to take pictures of, crowded around during the explanation, and then most went back to the rooms to eat/sleep/watch TV/play with their phones. Laundry was hanging everywhere outside. Everyone got off the boat at the same time, with lots of pushing and shoving and cutting in line - just like boarding the train. What about enjoying the scenery with peace and quiet? Not a thing, apparently.
However, in Yi Chang, I was reminded again that even the slightest interaction with a local breeds connection and a more intense travel experience...I ordered a spring onion and tofu pancake at a street food stall, and the man working there asked me to wait a moment while he set up his umbrella for the rain. I offered to help hold it while he tied, and it brought smiles to his and the woman at the next stall's faces. Follow the small threads... In all, Yichang's not much to travel to, but it wouldn't be bad to live there, I don't think. Nearly every city I go to in China seems like somewhere I could live, but this trip, I think Chengdu and Chongqing would be the winners for expat life.
I was sad to leave my beloved little Ramada. I slept in til 8 (my college self would be appalled), had coffee and breakfast, took a shower, did yoga, and packed. I prepared for my last slow red sleeper for a while - over these 50 days I covered all major modes of transportation save planes.
Shanghai 上海
Sitting at the rooftop bar of the Captain's Hostel, with a gorgeous view of the Bund and the Pudong below, I was just in time for sunset. I ordered a glass of Pinot Grigio and a warm goat cheese salad. I pretended, for a little, that I was in Paris.
The best find of the following day was a lovely little vegetarian restaurant, with a wooden garden deck and view of the Pudong, hidden away in a REAL old Shanghai building, creaky uneven steps and all. It was the sort of place Marisela would have loved, where we could write for hours. There were stories in the walls. I ordered Indian Masala Rice, which wasn't Indian or Masala but was delicious, and sipped a Sprite with lime and mint. I felt like a poetic artist - though I'll still need meat, specifically mutton, because Chinese medicine says it creates heat in the body and I definitely need that.
I was pretty excited about the imitation Chanel No. 5 solid perfume I bought for 25 kuai. Other than a little shopping for fake jade Buddhas and Japanese beauty supplies, the day was mostly spent riding the red sightseeing bus. I rode the red line in the Bund twice, in order to connect to the green line in the Pudong, and also the yellow line through a strange industrial district and the purple line (I almost thought I got on the wrong bus despite the sign, but China came through with its altered routes) through the Astor House Hotel area, where Grace and I wandered - that place seemed like an authentic Shanghai, but new things are going up around it fast. I realized, the second go-round, what a good job she and I did covering the city! I also took the ferry across the river and back, as it was my last Monday traveling until goodness knows when (did I have school in two weeks??? I still didn't know). I DID stop in an intriguing little teahouse...the owner gave me a free cup of tea (mini), and he was cute (as were the sets) but nothing was more special than what I could find in Hengyang, and it was more expensive. Plus, the man and I couldn't talk.
The next night I was in a different hostel, closer to Hongqiao. The new part of town wasn't bad. I had a decent morning, breakfast at the hotel, running errands around China Construction Bank (which, in Shanghai, looks like a bank should) and hunting down the train ticket booth I went to before, which had closed. I transferred to the new hostel, with my private room and a nice, soft bed. In the afternoon, I went to the Shanghai Urban Planning and Exhibition Center, which had a nifty model of the city, but was otherwise a bit of a letdown (I'm just not into the interactive exhibits - I bet Melody would have loved it, though). I tried to find the Shanghai Art Museum, but it was closed - the Museum of Contemporary Art, near Barbarossa, is definitely where I went before , with the parent matchmaking fair going on. I bought some gifts for Billy and Theo and prizes for the students at M&M world, and had dinner (just spinach and asparagus soup) at the hotel restaurant. There were travelers from all walks around, but everyone was on a screen.
The following day I went to Tongli. The town was lovely...bridges, canals, trees, whitewashed houses with black tile roofs. A little touristy, yes, with all the locals old and owning a restaurant or shop, but there was laundry out, and it was easy to venture off the main lanes.
The Pudong, in comparison, was sterile. There wasn't a Chinese thing in it, and it was eerie how empty it felt -- just a bunch of steel, concrete, and glass thrown up over the past few years. The big tower is the Shanghai Tower, and it wasn't even open yet - I stood beneath it, and it seemed as high as airplanes fly. I wonder if you can see down from the top through the clouds? The Financial Center turned out to be the Bottle Opener, but its observation deck wasn't much higher than the Cloud 9 Bar, so the price wasn't justified. I'll save its restaurant, the revolving restaurant in the Pearl Tower (which I also stood beneath, but didn't go in for the line - that building must be better from the outside, anyway), and the river dinner cruise for when I come again.
Last but not least, I took myself on a ride on the Maglev. It topped out at only 301km/hr, but it felt faster than the Gao Tie - like a rollercoaster. I have to give karma kudos to the lady outside the station with the Chinese hamburger food cart, though - she and the guy next to her smiling, chatting with me, and complimenting my Chinese was just what I needed at the end of the day.
Wuhan 武汉
The last bit of my summer travels led me to Wuhan, where I visited Xuan and her new apartment. Potato was stuck in Tibet because of a mudslide. Xuan works three jobs, seven days a week, so we just sat around chatting and went out for meals nearby. It was nice to catch up again and relax in an apartment, a little transition before taking the train back to Hengyang and preparing to start the school year again.
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