The Forgotten Mosque and Men Made of Mud - A Visit to Xi'an and the Terracotta Soldiers

On my last day in Xi’an, I stumbled upon a circular doorway hidden deep in the Muslim Quarter.  There was no sign on the garden wall, nor any indication that this was a place for touring, but something beckoned to my wandering spirit and I stepped inside just the same. 

It was a mosque, quieter and more dustily luminous than the Great Mosque I had visited the previous day.  I couldn’t hear the happy clamor from the narrow street outside at all.  At first I thought there was no one around, save for a few cats that seemed at home, and for a while, I wandered contentedly around haphazard corners, noticing the ornate carvings of stone and wood that were everywhere, pleased with my treasure. The brown stones of the walls and pavement, growing moss in small crevices, seemed saturated with memories.  The windows to the prayer rooms were shut.

Through a moon door at the far end of the courtyard, I spied a family having dinner at a small card table.  They seemed to live there, in an apartment in the corner, and two women in colorful headscarves hung laundry out to dry while the men ate and chatted in what sounded neither like Arabic nor Chinese.  It must have been one of their children who left a pail of milk out for the cats.   Framed by the doorway, the scene reminded me of an aged engraving.  It was a sepia snapshot before my eyes.

My only photograph of this place is the picture in my memory.  I never found it on any map or in my guidebook, but it was, I think, my favorite place in all of Xi’an.

That’s quite the superlative.  Xi’an was full of marvelous things to see.  Lisa and I spent five days there during – contrary to all advice we were given – Nationals Week (think travel in the States over Thanksgiving).  We managed to eek out a seven-hour bullet train ticket there and a 24-hour hard-sleeper train ticket back to Hengyang, so we considered ourselves lucky.  Aside from feeling like sardines in the Metro, all arrangements went smoothly.

The first order of business, of course, was to see the Terracotta Soldiers.  They exist in three pits of various stages of excavation, all covered with a huge metal roof like a gymnasium or megachurch.  Some lucky archaeologist has a desk splat in the middle of Pit 1.  Commissioned some time around 221 BC by China's first emperor, Qin Shi Huang, to protect him after death, and rediscovered by local well-diggers in 1974, an estimated 8,000 clay soldiers stand guard in perfect formation, each bearing distinctive features and a unique facial expression (all serious, of course).

This you probably knew from some history class or news article, but seeing it was something else - filing past line after line, solder after soldier, each one different from the last.  Though a drab gray now, the men and their weapons were once painted in bright life-like colors.  They are accompanied today by the shattered remains of their clay horses and chariots.  It's worth noting that the project was unfinished, interrupted by the empoeror's death.  His nearby tomb, in written accounts, is more fantastic than the army, but due to high levels of mercury - and the complexities of disturbing an ancient tomb - it remains unexcavated to this day (though it is possible to visit the hill reported to sit atop it, we did not).  As a side note, I learned later that said emperor, Qin Shi Huang, is the source of the current English pronunciation of the country's name - China.

Our other big out-of-town excursion was to the Huaqing Hot Springs.  These were disparaged by Lonely Planet, but aside from the fact that they were not the sort of hot springs one can soak in (boo), we found them quite lovely. The hot springs have a long history as both a royal retreat and a political hideout for the Kuomintang (one can still see bullet holes in some of the walls from the Xi'an Incident). There were decorative koi ponds reflecting pagodas and carved dragons.  The lanscaping of flowers and lotus ponds was incredible.  There were numerous pavilions to enjoy tea ceremonies and dance performances. The former baths of the rich and famous looked like they would have been inviting. 

There is plenty to do inside the city as well.  To stretch our muscles, we rented a tandem bike and rode atop the old city walls, which are still intact - a rarity in China. The old town is rather self-contained, and the wall afforded a contrasting view of it and the modern city on the other side.  We stopped by the elaborate Bell Tower and Drum Tower, taking pictures from the outsides but not going up. We did go up the multilayered Dayanta Pagoda (translating as "big wild goose pagoda") for another perspective on the city. Mostly, we ate lamb and bread noodle soup and street food in the bustling Muslim Quarter, but once we went to a dinner theater and took in a Tang Dynasty dance performance.  When we learned that our hotel offered in-room xi jiao, we quickly took advantage of that, too.

Though we only had five full days, Xi'an was my first big trip in China, and we packed it in, trains and all. On my first sleeper train from Xi'an back to Hengyang, I was in the middle berth on the opposite side of the car from Lisa, so I spent much of the trip in the little fold-out window seats, chatting with a curious passenger. As usually happens, I never saw him again, and I spent more of future train trips quietly absorbing the passing scenery.