Old and new find a balance in the 798 art district

Before coming to China I had learned a little bit about traditional Chinese art, but I never knew that China had such a world-renowned contemporary art scene. The most famous exhibitions are located in the art district 798. Fun fact: 798 in Chinese is qi jiu ba, which sounds a lot like qu jiu ba or "let's go to the bar". This area is owned by the military and was named after the main factory in the area: Factory 798. When these weapon-producing factories shut down due to lack of use, art collectors began renting them out and converting them into galleries. Since then 798 has become THE place for well-known artists, both Chinese and international artists, to showcase their work.

I went to 798 on Saturday---- the air was so polluted I had to wear a face mask. Although the air quality was a bummer, I had a blast exploring 798. The streets were so empty that I had no problem getting into any of the galleries. I saw everything from eerily and beautifully painted trees to a painting with Angelina Jolie's lips.

An example of a hutong, although not in 798. 

In addition to art galleries there are many high-end designer shops, though you would not know by looking down the cobble-stone hutongs. These small alleyways take you back to another era. Although the narrow, curving hutongs made some of the galleries hard to find, they made for interesting discoveries and they gave me an insight to what ancient China must have been like. Outside of 798 walking down the large boulevards surrounded on either side by malls, high-rises, and tall office buildings, it can be easy to forget Beijing's history. Then there are areas like this that are reminders China's rich history and culture. What I love about this city is the old and new trying to find a balance in the Beijing's ever growing economy and population. Here are some pictures of 798 art district:

Factoyr-turned-art-gallery

Angelina Jolie's lips

One day I will be able to read all of these Chinese books...one day

The simple village life

View outside my homestay

Buddhist offering furnace

Yesterday morning, I awoke to the thick smell of incense burning, a child whining, and a woman speaking in Tibetan. Forgetting where I was, I looked around for a moment at the log cabin-esque room containing just one large bed, empty shelves, and a simple bed sheet covering the window. Then I remembered. I was in Wendu, a small farming village in the mountains of Qinghai. Running out to the front of the house, I stumbled into a sea of white. All around me everything was covered in recently fallen snow: the mountains in the distance, partially hidden by thick fog; the small, dirt-and-brick houses that make up the village; and the winding, worn-out streets. For the first time in China, I could not hear a sound. The silence was so profound that I could hear my heart beating.  

 I arrived in Wendu yesterday evening with my study abroad group. First we went to the village school and played with the local children and then we went to meet our different host families. Two other girls and I arrived at a large, blue metal door and were welcomed by a middle-aged woman with her young grandson wrapped in a blanket, on her back. Although she was a young grandmother, her wrinkles showed the age that comes early due to daily backbreaking work.  Her hair was long and black, parted in the middle and tied in two braids, and she was wearing the traditional Tibetan dress consisting of a long sleeve shirt under a thick long black overcoat that reached the ground. Like most other outfits I had seen, the right sleeve of her coat was slipped under the shoulder and tucked into a belt. The sleeves are so long, that when people are working, they only wear one sleeve. This forms a convenient pocket at their chest. Like this and this.

Because my roommates and I only knew a few Tibetan words and our host mother did not speak a word of English or Chinese, our interactions felt awkward; we did not know how to communicate to her. She motioned us to sit down at a low table where we drank tea and ate homemade bread. She kept checking in on us and refilling our tea, without saying a word. When we had finished eating the bread she brought us heaping bowls of handmade noodles followed by plates of pickled vegetables. Although it was the simplest meal I had eaten on the trip, it was definitely my favorite; I am addicted to bread and this bread unlike the notoriously bland Chinese bread was delicious.

After dinner, at around 7 p.m. she motioned us to do our business in front of the house---- they have no toilet or shower just a hole---- and then to go to sleep. We slept on a large carpet-covered bed, or rather a large block of packed dirt in a wooden frame that took up a whole side of the room. It was not the most comfortable, but I was grateful for the heating pad she gave us. With no central heating the room can get dangerously cold. 

Aoman in traditional Tibetan clothing

A herd of sheep heading to the mountains

 Life in this village can be very hard because there is no industry. Our guide, who was born in Wendu, was the first of his village to get a job in the capital, a 3-hour drive from his home. Those who live in Wendu farm the land and raise farm animals. These days the young adults leave the village to work in construction, meaning that the older family members have to farm the land and take care of the grandchildren. He says in the olden days, people were poorer but happier because they spent more time together. Nowadays the villagers have more money but are unhappier. Nonetheless, village life is simpler than city life. In Xining, weekend breaks are almost non-existent---- people wanting to make money non-stop. In the village, although the work is hard, on weekends people take a break. They drink tea with their friends play cards by the fire, and spent time with their family. 

I have just returned to Beijing, and I cannot stop thinking about Qinghai, a world so different than mine. I will never forget the colorful temples smelling of incense and yak butter, the monks chanting, and the homemade bread and fresh doughy noodles. What I especially loved about Qinghai was the friendliness and empathy of people that I met around the cities and villages; it was very refreshing. 

Escape to Qinghai

Yaks on the Tibetan Plateau

Only minutes after landing in Xining, the capital and only big city of Qinghai province, I could already tell that I was in a different world. Unlike Beijing, the sun is bright and the sky is refreshingly clear from pollution.  A developing city, it is made up of  tall and uninspiring high-rises. Although lacking the polished feel of cities like San Francisco and Hong Kong, the surrounding mountains reflect the beautiful nature that makes up most of the province. With lakes, forests and national parks, Qinghai province is almost like a large nature reserve.

Roof of a mosque 

Located in the northeastern part of China, Qinghai has a large Tibetan population. Tibetan buddhist monasteries dot the countryside and the big city, and Tibetan tea houses and restaurants are normal sights. There is also a large Chinese Muslim population. So large in fact that there is a Muslim quarter with magnificent mosques.  For dinner the first night,  my group and I ate at a fancy family-style Muslim restaurant, where we gorged on pancakes, a soy sauce steamed egg dish that looked like flan, a sticky rice dessert, fried pumpkin, and many delicious shu cai (vegetable) dishes. 

The next day our guide took us to Kumbum Monastery. Only a 45-minute drive from our hotel, we spent most of the day wandering around and stopping in temple after temple. Inside this working monastery, monks in burgundy robes scurried down tiny corridors and the smell of incense lingered around each corner. 

Prayer wheels 

Arriving at the first temple, I stepped over* the threshold beam, a tall step directly under the doorway, and entered what seemed like another world. A monk sat in a corner quietly chanting in Tibetan while steadily beating a drum. The aroma of incense lightly drifted around the courtyard and a giant golden Buddha clad in colorful scarves  looked down at me. What really stood out though, was the vividly painted scene on the wall behind the monk depicting angry-looking nature spirits and crazy-looking horses. Albeit this frightening depiction, the painting represents the respectful relationship between Tibetans and nature. Afraid of angering the many spirits, they traditionally treat animals and the natural world with love and respect---- similar to the Native Americans. I had so much fun learning about Buddhism and experiencing something completely out of the ordinary. This made for a great first experience in Qinghai and I cannot wait for the next excursion!

*The height of the step represents the social status of the family (or in this case the monks) living in the building. You are never supposed to step directly on the  step because it signifies a lowering of your status. For a reason that I am not aware of, girls usually step over the step with their right leg.

How to cross the street in China

I have news everyone. Chinese finally almost makes sense! This may not seem like big news, but being confused 24/7 gets old fast. Although I cannot understand everyone, many things make more sense than before. For example, when getting food at the canting I can have small conversations with the servers about what I want to eat instead of just pointing and hoping it is food that I can eat.

Because of this, I was feeling on top of the world one day, so I went to the local bakery to pick up some pastries. Unfortunately this means that I had to cross a huge intersection, which in China is the scariest and most dangerous thing one can do.

So, with the green light motioning me to go, I looked both ways (my mother taught me well) and  took one step into the intersection. All of a sudden a honk blared in my eardrum making me jump back. A vespa zoomed past where I had just been standing. My heart beating race car fast, I took two more steps and then stopped right in the middle of the street as a turning bus cut me off. It passed by me so closely  that my nose could almost touch it. With nose intact,  I sprinted across the rest of street, making it safely to the other side. After that experience I decided to make a list of five easy rules to follow so that when visiting China, so you do not get hit while crossing the street:

1. When you hear a honk move out of the way because the driver WILL run you over (or yell at you for being an idiot). The street is a vicious hierarchy, bigger vehicles have the right of way.

2. Cling to groups. If you see at least one other person crossing, cling to them for your life and they will lead you to safety.


3. Even on small streets, do not look in awe at the wondrous sights around you. Nine times out of ten a moped or one of the buggy cars will hit you.
                               
4. Lose your sense of self preservation. If you are afraid of getting run over, make it a rule to never cross a street.

5. The most important rule is that there are no rules. On the streets of Beijing, it is every person for themselves.

Here are a couple pictures where there were no cars and barely any people: The Great Wall of China!!!

Look how blue the sky is!!!! This means no pollution:)