Eric's Beijing Diary

Click for larger image.
Anne Marie pointed out that the beast in this picture is probably a dzo. I had never heard of such beast, but apparently there are quite a few variations of hybrid between yak and cow. Perhaps this is why the Chinese word for "yak" is "niu," which is the word for cow. In discussing yaks specifically, they will often say, "mao niu," though not always. The kids I asked just said, "niu." So in China, a yak is a type of cow. And a dzo, which looks like a cow, as you can see from the picture, but has a tail like a yak, is one of the most common hybrids. It kinda reminds me of the "beefalo" we used to see in North Dakota and Minnesota. The beefalo started as an accidental cross. That may be true of the yak and cow hybrids, too. The main thing is that when you see a yak in the Tibetan highlands, it could very well be a mixture. I noticed it because it did not have the classic yak appearance, even though it had some yak features.

Finally put together my pictures from the summer. If you're not familiar with Gansu Province, I would think it might be easier for you to follow the pictures if you first take a gander at the interactive map of Gansu Province. The links on the left side of the map allow you to view close-up maps of any county. The village of Langmusi is not on the map, but if you look at the regional map of Gannan, you can see the highway that goes down into Sichuan Province. Langmusi sits right on the border of Gansu and Sichuan Provinces. This presentation is somewhat limited, in that it is designed for 1024 X 768. If your resolution differs from that, it might look a little cluttered or off center, but it should still work.

The whole west side looks like it has been bombed. It's really sad. All those restaurants...bulldozed. Mule carts are standing at the ready to pick up the refuse. It's for the Olympics, I'm sure. China's infernal image consciousness is starting to get to me. OK, let's concede that the restaurants were small store-front places that didn't exactly beautify the neighborhood. But they really weren't hurting anyone, and they were doing business. I am afraid the whole place is going to be a lot more sterile, now. A lively community bustling with life is going to become...who knows what? They tore down the Wudaokou Market. The Wudaokou Market was a barter market which combined a flea market type area with a farmer's market that sold every type of fresh meat, produce and extraneous foodstuff you can imagine. Fortunately, my favorite Hunan restaurant is still standing. I am keeping my fingers crossed. And what I'm really worried about is what will replace that rich variety of restaurants. I'll keep you posted, but I am not optimistic.

It's Saturday morning in Beijing. It's a bit of a cloudy day, but on a day like today that's nice, because the weather is mild. Not too hot.

As I look back over the summer, and try to put together the things I have seen, the places I have been, and the people I have met, one things stands out above the rest: While it is certainly good for us to make plans and prepare ourselves, I have always found that I have the best experiences when I take pains to make the point with God that I want Him to lead me. Listen to me, if you put your life in God's hands, and trust Him to show you what to do and where to go, He will lead you. I have proven this principle many times over. So that's the first point. I am a Christian. I believe in God, and I believe that He is actively involved in the affairs of men.

The second thing I would say is that, while I am interested in some of the sights one sees traveling around the country, I am far more interested in people, and in understanding how they think. The question of what people believe and why they believe it has always been a matter of great interest to me. So let's take a look at the beliefs. The two main religious groups I encountered this summer were the Tibetan Buddhists and the Hui Muslims.

Buddhists. The first thing you notice when you visit any kind of Buddhist site in China, is the extent to which Buddhism has been commercialized. I have seen a fair amount of this in my travels throughout China, but every time I see it, I am repulsed anew. When I visited the monastery on the Sichuan side of Langmusi, there was no instruction, no map, no brochure, no direction. Just a couple monks in a guard shack who would grab anyone with a white face and collect money. Modern Buddhism in China has found it's Nirvana. It is tourism. They're not very good at it right now, but they're going to get better, especially with the huge number of spiritually exhausted westerners who are so hopelessly overawed by the "beauty of Buddhism." Perhaps my view is a bit jaded, because I grew up next to a Buddhist temple, and I have seen how Buddhism tends to keep people in religious bondage, rather than setting them free. I saw it again this summer--the somber man who kept prostrating endlessly at the temple in Xiahe. He was there when we went in, and he was still prostrating himself over and over again when we came out. Others may have been struck by his faithfulness. I was saddened by the look of complete futility on his face.

But Buddhism is the predominate folk religion in Asia. It's not going anywhere for the moment. An altar with food offerings is a common site in restaurants throughout China. And even people who claim not to believe in anything will politely bow ("for good luck") when they happen to pass some Buddhist religious site. Again, though, Buddhism has become thoroughly commercialized, so I would say that its days are numbered. Nothing destroys a belief system quicker than financial prosperity. And this prosperity tends to generate cynicism in the minds of the people. One Tibetan in Langmusi was complaining to me how detached the monastery was from the local community. He said that they would expect local people to contribute to the sustenance of the monastery, but they did not contribute anything to the community. I asked him if the Tibetan monasteries had schools. He said, "Yes, but only for themselves."

Well, I don't live in his community, so, as a visitor, I am a bit limited in my ability to analyze the specific local situation. But one has to wonder what the chief lama at the monastery is doing building a resort hotel. Did he build this "for profit" hotel with money that was collected for charitable purposes? And does he hold title to the property, or has he turned it over to the monastery? Is there an independent audit of monastery accounts, or are they beyond scrutiny? Is anyone asking these questions? Buddhism suffered terribly during the Cultural Revolution, when there was a concerted attack on Buddhism, as well as other religions. Today, the scene is very different. Although the government wants to be seen as treating all religions fairly, Buddhism gets a boost because it is seen as a Chinese religion (which, of course, it is not), and a balance to Christianity, which is growing like a wildfire in both it's formal and informal variations.

Muslims. Islam in China is not nearly as commercialized as Buddhism. I wouldn't say it is not commercialized at all, because I did have to pay a fee to visit the ancient Tang Dynasty mosque in Xi'an last summer. But there is a huge difference between Islam and Buddhism in China. When I went to the large mosque in Linxia, nobody jumped out and grabbed money from me. It was very much like what walking into a neighborhood church building would be like in America. But Islam differs from Buddhism in other ways. When Chinese people refer to Buddhism as a Chinese religion, I always correct them. Buddhism came from India, not China. Nevertheless, Buddhism in China has been largely sinicized over the centuries since it came from India, just as Buddhism in Japan tends to be a mixture of Buddhism and Shintoism. As I mentioned before, Buddhism is the folk religion of Asia, and thus it feels like a native belief system to Chinese people. Not so with Islam. I have, of course, met many Chinese people who call themselves "Buddhist." But I have never met a Chinese person who identified himself as a Muslim. There are, of course, many Muslims in China. But the Chinese are not Muslims. And the Muslims are not Chinese. I need to be careful not to overstate the case. Before I came to China, I concluded that Islam could never be big in China, because the Muslims do not eat pork, which (as Piano says) is the "default meat" of China. I was wrong. There are many Muslim restaurants in any sizeable Chinese city, and they serve dishes that attract Muslims and non Muslims alike. And the government of China has gone to great lengths to accommodate the Muslim minorities and bring them into the mainstream of Chinese society. This has been easier with the Hui (because they do not have a separate language) than it has with the Uygur, but even the Uygur are able to go just about anywhere in China and find a restaurant that is "Kosher" (pardon the term). Nevertheless, the Muslim minorities in China are just that--minorities. Largely for this reason, I think, Islam seems to be more removed, as a religion, from the mainstream than is Buddhism. Recent world events linking Islam to terrorism have not helped matters either. I need to be careful, here, because there is, even in modern Islamic countries, a growing distinction between the religious Islam that all Muslims accept, and Islamism, which is viewed with suspicion by Muslims in very much the same way that Protestant Christian organizations like the Ku Klux Klan are viewed negatively by Christians in a "Christian" country like America. But is there something about Islam that is characterized by, if not endorsement, a tacit complicity with the more violent aspects of Islamism? Roger Scruton, in a fascinating piece in the Wall Street Journal, postulates that Islam suffers from a lack of irony. That while most Muslims would not openly condone the violence often associated with Muslim extremists, they have been woefully silent in condemning them. This question needs some thought and discussion.

And there is the question of the holy book. Last night at the English corner, a guy asked me, "Which book is better, the King James (not sure why he chose that version) Bible, or the Muslim book (he didn't know what to call it)? I said, "Take a look at history. Societies that have followed the principles in the Bible have become prosperous and advanced. Societies that have been built on the Koran have remained backward and undeveloped." There is no questioning the profound effect of the Bible on the eventual progression of a given society. Horace Greely said, "It is impossible to enslave mentally or socially a Bible-reading people. The principles of the Bible are the groundwork of human freedom."

Getting back to the Hui Muslims, though, I should hasten to point out that Islam is as much a cultural thing as it is a religious belief. That is why we refer to them as "Hui Muslims." It's a precarious term, because the word "Hui" denotes the ethnic minority, while "Muslim" denotes (or is supposed to denote) religious affiliation. Theoretically, then, it should be possible for a Hui to be a member of some other religion, just as there are Jews who are not necessarily Jewish. But you just don't meet Hui people in China who are not Muslim, except in the case of mixed marriages. For the Hui, Islam is very closely tied to their ethnicity.

Secularism. This is really the new religion of China. I suppose it is a natural result of economic prosperity, but also strongly influenced by the complete vacuum of belief during the Communist era. Most Chinese people I interact with are singularly secular. This is one very noticeable contrast when you emerge from a visit to communities like Langmusi or Linxia. The secularism in China is interesting, because it is not, as in America, a slow backsliding from previously held beliefs, but is rather a disillusionment with a previously believed cult religion (Maoism) that became cruel and brutal. But many Chinese people still struggle with this. It never ceases to amaze me how many Chinese intellectuals still try to tell me that the business oriented atmosphere so prevalent in China today is actually a modification (improvement?) of Marxism. Nonsense. A more common attitude I see in China, is a sort of macabre fascination with the excesses of the Maoist period. Traveling this summer, I saw a guy with a T-shirt that said, "ASSUME THE POSITION." I had to wonder if he had any idea what that meant. The last day I was in Lanzhou, I was having lunch with Inga's family, and her uncle got a phone call. The ring tone on his cell phone was the voice of a red guard yelling through a megaphone to heed the sayings of Chairman Mao. And there is a nightclub here in Beijing where the waitresses all wear Red Army uniforms and yell Marxist exhortations at you instead of smiling when you enter.

What, then, do the Chinese people believe? It seems to me that many of them are still trying to decide this question, and the future of this country will be powerfully influenced by that decision. And there is another question that I always have to ask myself. What do I believe, and how does that influence my attitude toward other belief systems. I need to address this issue because while I like to think of myself as an objective person, I cannot really be called "disinterested." I am not neutral. So I cannot claim to be looking at the issue from a purely scholarly perspective. Much to the contrary, I, myself, have deep beliefs about these things, and that affects how I view others. But I think some would too quickly call this a disadvantage; others would completely disqualify me as an analyst of others beliefs. I would say, in my defense, that because of my own beliefs about these questions, I tend to relate well to people with strongly held beliefs. I have always gotten along better with atheists than with agnostics or nominal (I sometimes say 'political') Christians. So, for what it's worth, let me tell you where I stand on the matter.

I believe that the universe is ruled by a personal God who is very concerned about the affairs of men. I believe that we are all going to die someday. But I believe that this fact is proof that somehow, somewhere, sometime, something went terribly wrong. You just cannot convince me that man was made to die. It wasn't supposed to happen that way. Somebody blew it. So sin entered the human sphere, and man is destined to die as a consequence. But man's failure is not God's failure. God did not become less God because of man's fall. So God's standard is still perfection, but no man can live up to it. Our solution to this, is to expect God to lower His standards a bit out of recognition for our limitations. But God is not willing to be less holy to compensate for our imperfections. So what does He do? God is a God of justice. To satisfy justice, all He has to do is destroy us. But God is also a God of love. Because He is a God of perfect justice, he cannot lower His standard, but because He is also a God of love, He wants to redeem us. God's solution to this, was to send His own Son to live a perfect life. Jesus lived a perfect life, and then preceded to take the punishment for all of our sin. He became guilty of our sin so that we could inherit his righteousness. So we all have a choice. We can live a perfect life, and then stand before God in our righteousness and be judged on the kind of life we have lived, or we can stand before God clothed in Christ's righteousness, and be judged on the kind of life Christ lived. But remember, God's standard is absolute perfection. In my case, the choice is quite simple, because I have already blown the first option. But that's the point. The Bible says that all have sinned and come short of God's glory. So we're all in the same boat. There is nothing we can do to be good enough for God. Without His mercy, we are sunk. This, then, is why I am so troubled when I see sincere people prostrating themselves over and over again in hopes that God will love them. God's love is always given freely. We don't need to do anything (indeed we can't do anything) to earn his love and mercy. It is only available as a free gift. This is the essence of the Christian gospel. I hope you can see that, when viewed from this perspective, all religions come up short, because all religion is about man reaching up to find God, and God is unreachable. Not only is God unreachable, but he is absolutely unreachable. But while we cannot reach God, God can reach us. So it is of the Lord's mercy that we are not consumed. The whole purpose of religion is to keep us so busy trying to be good enough for God, that we cannot see his hand of mercy reaching out to us.

In lovingkindness Jesus came
My soul in mercy to reclaim,
And from the depths of sin and shame
Through grace He lifted me.

From sinking sand He lifted me,
With tender hand He lifted me,
From shades of night to plains of light,
O praise His Name, He lifted me!

Labels: Buddhism, Islam, Religion, Secularism

This evening, on my way back from the East side, I stopped by the Bookworm in Dongsishitiao for a lecture night. The speaker tonight was Ben Rogers, who works for an international Christian human rights organization. He was here to present his book on the Karen people of Burma. Burma (Myanmar) has been in the news from time to time, because of the fact that the democratically elected leader has been under house arrest for many years. From an American perspective, the solution is to turn the government over to the individual elected by the people. To the Americans, the will of the people is preeminent, unless the people elect a leader or leaders the Americans don't like (such as Hamas). Personally, I think the American position is hopelessly hypocritical and misguided. The focus of international attention should not be on what group of people is in power, but on how those who are in power treat their people. This is the issue.

I asked Mr. Rogers what we could do. I mean, it is good to have a meeting like this, to become informed about what is going on in the world. But sometimes, in our media intensive world, we are inundated with news of troubles and sorrows in many corners of the world, and it soon becomes overwhelming. There is way more than we can ever possibly respond to, and this process hardens us. Every time you see sorrow and do not respond to it, you tend to harden yourself, because it is just too painful to care. I did not want this presentation to be just one more tragedy to harden myself to. He seemed to feel that anything we could do to influence the powers that be to call for a security council resolution would be helpful. I am not sure about this, and I don't know what in the world I can do to influence the security council. I guess I just need to try to become informed, and then be prepared to respond if the opportunity presents itself. If you're interested, there's a brief article by Ben Rogers in Christianity Today that, I think, is a good introduction to the problem.

It's weird. Only been home a few days, and I am leaving again. I came here to the East side of Beijing to visit Jean and Claire. Claire has just rented a siheyuan to use as a home for troubled or homeless people. Right now, she is hosting a dear lady who has suffered for three years from constantly hearing voices. Claire has definitely bit off more than she can chew this time. But she is going to make it, because she has an incredible attitude. And she just happens to serve an incredible God.

Had a friendly phone chat this afternoon with a magazine editor from Beijing. She had been reading my blog, and wanted to interview me for her magazine. She sent me an email ahead of time with a list of questions, so that I would have some time to think about it.

I may focus on the following questions.

Mr. Langager, why did you start blogging?

Well, this one is pretty basic. I started blogging as a means of keeping folks informed about what I am doing. There are other ways to do this, but all of them had disadvantages I didn't like. If I communicated with everyone by way of individual emails, that would take too much time. But there is another problem with that approach. Some people like to hear from you, but don't like to be in the position of sending you an email for every email they receive from you. In other words, they like to read, but they don't like to write. A blog meets the needs of these types much better than email. I also considered sending a group email, but that is always problematic over a period of time, because there will always be someone on that list who doesn't really want to hear from you. I don't like spam, and I don't want to be guilty of sending it myself.

As we know, blogging actually takes a lot of time and energy. How do you keep on writing?

As a matter of fact, it does take more time and energy than I had originally anticipated. I opted for blogging as a time saver, but while it does save some time over writing separate emails, it is still time consuming. But the discipline of writing for publication is something that helps me to think through what I am saying a little more carefully.

After more than 3 years blogging, do you really get some fun from your blog?

Actually, my blog has changed a bit. After awhile, I began to realize that the stuff I am writing about may bore people to death if they are not interested in China. On the other hand, there may be people I don't know, who would have the same interest in what I write that I had in the many, many articles I read while I was preparing my own move to China. So I decided to list my blog publicly. It has moved from becoming a short cut email, to becoming a sort of hobby. And it is a good one, I think, for now. So I would say that it's fun, but it is also a lot of work.

Do you think it is really possible to make money from blogging?

Possible, but probably not likely for most people. The reason for this, is that to make money, a blogger either has to sell advertising, or eventually quit blogging and become a professional journalist. The problem with the first option is that a "friends and family" blog is not likely to generate enough income. The problem with the second option is that if you become a professional journalist, you have all sorts of requirements and restrictions as to what you should write about, and what you can say. I have no such restrictions. I write about anything I want to, although I generally restrict my comments pretty much to that which relates to life in China. And I express my own opinion, not someone else's.

Do you have some suggestions for those who are going to set up their blogs?

This is interesting. Whenever this question is asked, the response is usually that the first thing you need to do is find a blog hosting service. But in fact, if you start looking for a blog hosting service first, you are getting ahead of the game. The first thing you need to do is not to get a blog hosting service. The first thing you need to do is get a life. This is the problem with most people, especially in America. They don't have a life.

This morning, I ran into one of my neighbors, who is an English teacher from the States. He was a lawyer before he came to China. He worked 70+ hours a week. He had a good job. A house. A nice car. But he didn't have a life. Now he has no car. And he doesn't make much money. But he has a life. I asked him this morning if he had been tempted by offers when he was in the States this summer. He said, "I didn't even look."

Ever read anything by a writer who has nothing to say? Ever had to listen to a speaker who had nothing to say? It's torture. Step one: Get a life. The other steps will take care of themselves.

Qingdao--Beijing Express. It was three weeks ago yesterday that I left Beijing on my way to Lanzhou. It has been a very eventful three weeks. One of the things I most wanted from this experience was to know experientially what God can and will do when we put our lives in his hands. Abraham tried it, and he discovered the blessing of God in far greater measure than he ever could have imagined.

I set out this summer not knowing where I was going, except that Gansu Province was somehow in my mind. I think the reason for that is that, when you live in China, Gansu Province is so often mentioned as a place where people are poor, and education is deficient. So, given my interest in rural education, I think Gansu Province was a logical choice. But that's what I think. Who can know the mind of God?

It's called "vision." A sense that one is supposed to move in a certain direction combined with a picture of what one expects to see develop as a result of that movement. I have, for many years, been obsessed with this question.

"Daddy, why do we need 'bishion?'" This is the question my daughter (Juliana) asked me when she was about 4 or 5 years old. She had obviously heard me praying for it many times, and wanted to know what the big deal was. So what is the big deal? Why do we need vision? I think the first reason is that we cannot see by ourselves. Bob Pierce, the man of faith who founded both World Vision and Samaritan's Purse, always said that you should never take on something that you can do without the help of God. If we would be used by God for something that will have eternal value, we must be willing to walk by faith. Without faith it is impossible to please God (Hebrews 11:6). And if we walk by faith, we must have vision--the ability to see things by faith that others cannot see. To call things that are not as though they were (Romans 4:17).

This year, it seemed that I was a bit slow in getting a vision for what I was going to do this summer. I think it is partly because of a plan (which never came about) to have a family reunion in Japan. I had kinda put everything on hold just in case that actually came about. When it became clear to me that the reunion was not going to happen, I began to think and pray about where I should go this summer. Gansu Province immediately came to my mind, for the reason that I mentioned earlier, and perhaps also because it is on the old Silk Road. About Christmas time, I was talking to Abe, and he told me I should go to Yunnan Province, so I started to think along those lines. But I mentioned this to Jean one time, and she said, "Eric, you can't listen to everyone else. You need to do what God tells you to do." I knew she was right. Because of my sensitivity to the great need, I was very sensitive to suggestions. But I was being too open minded. I really needed to pull back and hear from God. Sounds grandiose. Hear from God? But if I am a Christian, I must dare to believe that God does lead us when we ask Him.

I seriously considered making a permanent move to the countryside. At the present time, it doesn't seem to be the way God is leading me, mainly because I really have a desire to see Chinese Christians from cities like Beijing become involved in helping the poor people in the western part of China. If I go myself, I must give up that part of my vision. So many NGO's that have worked in China, have been non-profits from the West, bringing western money from Britain or America and using it to pursue an agenda developed by outsiders. I don't want to do that. I would much rather see the development of a Chinese non-profit funded and operated entirely within China by Chinese Christians. But the picture just isn't clear yet. It is still a bit fuzzy. Lots and lots of unanswered questions.

Labels: Travel Gansu, Vision

I don't want to go into a lengthy description of Qindao, so I'll let you read it yourself. Let me just summarize by saying that Qingdao was basically founded as sort of a German "Hong Kong." Not many people outside of China know that today, because the Germans lost it in World War 1, which is a long time ago. But before 1897, there really was nothing here but a little fishing village. The Germans came in and built it up as their primary naval installation in the Far East. So it is that one of the prettiest little Bavarian communities in Germany is not in Germany. The thing that has impressed me more than anything else is the number of buildings left standing from that period. When I say "that period," I am referring to the time before World War I, when Qingdao was lost to the Japanese. But perhaps this is not entirely accurate, because the Germans didn't just all leave when the Japanese took over. So it could be that a certain number of those buildings were built by German people living in Qingdao long after the German government had left officially.

But Qingdao today has grown far beyond the original German outpost. So when you roll into Qingdao, you don't see Germany, you see China. Once you get here, though, you can see the remnants of the old German colony all over the place. And it is seen in more than just architecture. The old world Deutschland sophistication seems to permeate, or at least influence every aspect of Qingdao society. Perhaps part of it is because Germany is viewed very positively in China today. China tends to contrast Germany with Japan it its attitude toward past atrocities. And positive relationship with Germany is seen as advantageous economically. I haven't actually met a lot of Chinese people who study German, although I have met a few, and perhaps more than any other European language except French, which is the default "second foreign language" for English majors.

Actually, I have only been here two days, so perhaps I should not be too quick to analyze what makes Qingdao so unique. I guess I don't know entirely what it is, really. Qingdao is more like America then any city I have been to in China. I don't think I would like to live here; Qingdao is not a very good place for bicycles. Not that you would have to have a car, because taxis are pretty cheap here, and the bus system is great. But if you lived here long enough, I just think you probably would get a car, because the modern city of Qingdao is quite spread out, and the streets are wide, clean, and very drivable. Remember, Qingdao does not have the same dynastic history as other Chinese cities. It's roots are colonial, and that fact is very noticeable when moving about this city.

Yesterday, I went to the museum at the Tsingtao (old spelling) brewery. Most people, even in Germany do not know (or certainly would not want to admit) that the most widely consumed German beer in the world is made in China. The Tsingtao brewery was built by the Germans in 1903, just a few years after the colony was established, so the history of the brewery parallels the history of the community. This cost is a bit expensive, I think (50 RMB), but it is worth it, because the museum is pretty well put together, and the historical section is generally pretty good, although there is no mention of the Cultural Revolution. I mean, you really have to read between the lines to see anything substantial regarding that tumultuous period.

Today, I visited the Protestant Church, which dates back to just after the Tsingtao brewery was built. In its time, it was probably a Lutheran church, but I'm just guessing. There isn't that much about the history of the building when you go there. It is not a museum, it's a church. The people there don't seem to know anything about the history. But they do take very good care the building, which is in amazingly good condition. I mean, everything works. The clock on the steeple tower is in mint condition, and still ticking. When you walk around in this building, or sit in the sanctuary, there's nothing to tell you that it's not 1910. Well, maybe the electric clock on the wall would give it away. But it's not a digital clock, and perhaps pretty old itself. Anyway, it is really worth seeing.

The building that really is a museum is the old governor's mansion. It is absolutely fabulous. The German governor who built it in 1903 was fired when Kaiser Wilhelm found out how much he had spent on the project. Much of the history narration (they give you a little hand held machine for 20 RMB) concerns famous Communists who have stayed in the building, but there is a little about the German part of its history too.

I also went to the old underground German fort on Qingdao Hill. That is really something to see. It is certainly nothing fancy. It is a cold, forbidding basement. But the size of the thing is impressive--perhaps you could see it as a giant bomb shelter. It didn't help the Germans keep the town, though, because they were overwhelmed when the Japanese attacked in August of 1914.

Anyway, that's the summation of a very brief tour. It's been a relaxing couple of days. Tomorrow I go home. Perhaps next time, I will visit the Catholic Church. It's not really from the colonial period, because it was built in the thirties, but it does have an interesting history. Can't recommend it, because I haven't seen it, but, as I said, I probably will some day. As far as the other places, here's my summation:

Qingdao Brewery. I think it's a good starting point, because it has a better history narration than anything else in town. There is a lot more about the Japanese than the Germans, but that's OK, because, after all, they were involved longer, after everything was said and done.

Protestant Church. I guess the only thing I would say here is that it might be nice to come on Sunday. The other thing would be to see if they would let you climb the ladder up to the belfry. You can go up to the steeple, but not the belfry. But it is an impressive building. See it.

Governor's Mansion. Pay the 20 RMB for the little hand-held machine that will give you the narration in English. You will have to supplement that with some study on the Internet or something.

German Underground Fortress. If you're not really a history buff, perhaps you can skip this one. There is nothing of beautiful architecture here. Still, it is only ten kuai, and it is unique enough to be worth seeing. Remember, the battle with the Japanese was the only World War I battle that took place in Asia.

Sidewalk Hotel. Yes. Definitely. Recommend it highly. Just look for the most run-down neighborhood you can find behind the train station on the other side of the tracks.

The train was supposed to be in at about 8:30 pm last night, but it was 6 hours late. We pulled into Qingdao at 2:30 this morning. Pretty awkward time. I walked to a hotel that had been recommended by Lonely Planet as a nice place to stay. You know, it really did look like a nice place, but the room prices were higher than those listed in the book for peak season, and the problem was that they were going to charge me a whole day for the period between 3 am and checkout at noon. No dice. I walked back toward the train station and talked with some workers sitting outside a hotel I had seen on my way from the train station. This was clearly a lower class hotel, but the same deal. Since it was still 3 o'clock in the morning, I had to pay full room price (which they told me was 100 RMB +) for the period ending at noon. I asked them how soon I could check in for the next night. They said 6 am was the earliest. So I was basically looking at paying a whole day for three hours. I told them I would go away and come back later. Then they told me they would give me a special deal. I could stay until the 17th if I would pay 280 RMB. I said, "So one day is 140?" They said, "Yes." I did some quick math and informed them that they were still charging me a whole day for the period between 3 am and checkout. Hmmm...what is it about me...do I look like a complete idiot? Oh, well. I decided to go back to the train station and wait it out. There are always people waiting around a train station for some reason or other. When I got to the train station, a lady saw me and told me she had a place to stay. I explained my problem, and she told me she could give me a room for 30 RMB. Now I was really curious. I figured this place must be pretty bad, but the lady was so sweet and cheerful I just couldn't help but trust her. When I got to her place, she led me to a tiny, tiny room with another guy sleeping in it. There was one open bed, but the air in that place was terrible! This lady is basically renting closet space to bums and drifters who absolutely have to have the rock bottom price. I turned and walked out quickly, telling her I could not sleep in that stuffy place. She apologized all over the place, and when I got outside, she pointed to a mattress lying on the sidewalk, "How about this?" I said, "How much?" She said, "Twenty yuan."

Ever slept on a sidewalk in Qingdao in the summertime? It's a treat, let me tell you. Soft, cool breeze, crickets chirping. They guy next to me said, "Don't worry, we'll watch your stuff for you." I couldn't help wondering how he planned to do that as I watched him sleeping peacefully a short while later. But I wasn't really worried. These are nice people. Decent, working class folks trying to do the best with what they had. I don't know...do you think I should have just paid for the extra day at a nice hotel and called it good? Obviously, you've never slept on a sidewalk in Qingdao in the summertime.

I left shortly after six and finally found a very nice room at the train station hotel. Should have gone their first, I guess, but I still wouldn't have gotten in. They told me my room would not be cleaned until 8:30, but that I could put my stuff in it. I tried to bargain the price down, but they wouldn't budge. Stands to reason. The place is obviously packed if they don't have any empty rooms. Why should they come down in price? I didn't want to pay what they were asking, but it really was a nice place. Not top end luxury, by any means, but very nice rooms, with air conditioning and a good view of the sea. Oh, well. I knew staying in Qingdao was going to be expensive. Before I came to Qingdao, I had prayed for an "annointed vacation," and I had to accept what God was giving me. When they handed me my room key, I had to take a second look. My room number is 1903.

Dear little Inga came to my hotel this morning at 9 am. I met her in the lobby, and we went to a nearby supermarket to get some fruit and bread for my trip. Later, as she was painstakingly washing all my fruit to make sure it was safe, her phone rang. After she was finished talking, she said, "My mother is an empress." I said, "Well, if your mother is an empress, then you must be a princess." She said, "No, I'm a slave." If true, then Inga is the best little slave that ever was. She worked like a trooper helping me get ready for the long journey across the country. And the whole thing was her idea. That kid has definitely been brought up right. And her mother was an empress in deed. A woman of extraordinary dignity and bearing. She came to the hotel to get me, and took us (her brother, his daughter Lori, Inga, and me) to a restaurant nearby and ordered an exquisite lunch. She really didn't need to do something like this, especially after last night's banquet. But in truth, it was exactly what I needed. I got on the train with a full stomach.

On the platform, she met her friend. Turns out, when they got the ticket for me, they had requested a bottom bunk, because they felt that would be more convenient for me. But the ticket had been for a top bunk. She asked her friend to fix the problem. He took me to an empty compartment (each soft sleeper compartment has four beds) at the end of the car, and told me to take my pick. Again, it helps to know someone.

Yesterday was a bit frustrating. Late in the evening I went to the train station, which is just across from my hotel, to see if I could get a ticket to Qingdao. Qingdao is located on the coast southeast of Beijing. I have always wanted to visit the place, and had considered taking a short trip there after I get back to Beijing. A couple weeks ago, Inga happened to mention that there was a direct route from Lanzhou to Qingdao. After she said that, I started thinking about it, and decided that going directly to Qingdao from here might save me some trouble, and give me an opportunity to see the place.

There were no tickets (except, of course, the hard seats). Strange, because when I talked to them Friday, they said I could not buy a ticket for Monday until Sunday. Now they were telling me they had nothing. No soft sleeper or hard sleeper. Frustrating, but I have been through this before. Someone has obviously set aside all the soft sleeper tickets (either legally or illegally) to be sold through back door connections. I finally asked if I could get a ticket to Xi'an. If I can get to Xi'an, I can go to the youth hostel and have them buy me a ticket for the rest of the way. Nuisance, but it's one way to get the job done. The lady told me that there was, in fact, a ticket to Xi'an, but I decided to hold off on buying it, because the train gets there at 3 am. Not only that, but I would end up wasting a couple days getting across the country. This morning, when Inga and her uncle picked me up (I had invited her to church), I told her my story. She said, "No problem, we will get a ticket. Don't worry about it." I was curious, but she spoke with such confidence.

After church, I went with Inga's family to a large tea house in Lanzhou. This place was built as a garden (mostly artificial) with a translucent roofing, so that the sun could shine through. It was like being outside without being outside. After tea and chatting for several hours, we went to a large dinner table for a delicious meal. By now it was dark, and the mercury vapor lamps had come on. The whole afternoon, Inga's mother and her aunt were making phone calls trying to get me a ticket. Toward the end of the afternoon, Inga that they would get me on the train without a ticket.

"Without a ticket?" Now I was really curious.

"Yes. It's called, 'bu piao.' (no ticket). Inga assured me that they had friends at the train station who would get me on the train, and I could then bid for any available bed. She said, "Don't worry about it." Well, what could I say about that? "No ticket" is better than no ticket, or something like that. I was ready to try anything. But by the end of the evening, they told me that their contacts at the station had managed to get me a ticket. Amazing. When it comes to train tickets, it really does matter who you know. I still don't know what to think about this whole system, and I can't claim to completely understand it. Yesterday was a perfect example of what China is like when you don't know anyone. Today was a perfect example of what China is like when you are tied in with a well-connected family. Anyway, I have a ticket. So, tomorrow I will set out for yet one more train trip across China.

KFC in Lanzhou. This place is packed to the gills. Or as we say in China, "People mountain, people sea." With the noise of people talking, and Shania Twain whining in the background, the decibel level is rather high. Noise pollution. When I am on the road, I sometimes look for a KFC or McDonald's as a place to study. Next best thing to a coffee bar. Coffee is cheap in these places, and they are usually pretty well lighted for reading. But this place is hopeless.

There is a new KFC opening every other day in China. The huge success of KFC in China is due in part, of course, to the great fondness the Chinese have for chicken. A couple years ago, I was at one of those all-you-can-eat buffets near my apartment in Beijing. The sign said that the place featured chicken, but I could never see any on the buffet table. My question was eventually answered when I saw a guy walking away from the buffet table. His plate had absolutely nothing on it except for one huge mountain of chicken. He had cleaned out the whole supply. The recipe here is not quite like chicken is usually prepared in China. Kentucky Fried Chicken is Kentucky Fried Chicken. It is exactly the same here as it is in the States. But people here love it.

But it isn't just the food. It is the venue. China just doesn't have places like this where Chinese young people can go and have something to eat and/or drink and sit and talk. There are no coffee shops in China. Coffee bars, yes. But they are expensive (unless you live in the University district of a big city). There is nothing like Denny's or Village Inn in China. KFC and McDonald's serve that purpose. They are imports from America, of course, but in any sizeable Chinese city, they have become institutions. There is a whole generation of young people in the cities who could not imagine life without McDonald's. I'm not sure that is such a good thing, because as Chinese people become more affluent, they have more money to take their kids to places like this, where the food is somewhat less than nourishing, and really not that healthy.

I had a great time with Jessica's kids this morning. I taught them a song and a hand game, and worked with the older kids on some pronunciation drills. This afternoon, the teachers took me to the bus stop and helped me flag down a bus going into Lanzhou. I told them I would really like to come back next summer. I am very impressed with the work they are doing. These young teachers are a credit to their country. They have grown up with very limited financial resources, yet they have not only done well for themselves, but are giving back to their community in the best way they know how. If you want to see true greatness, you have to look no further. In America, young people pay large amounts of money to go to a concert or ball game and see some celebrity. In my opinion, most of those celebrities are very trivial people who live shallow lives. I would rather go to the countryside of China and meet people like these young teachers. They are much greater people.

I left Linxia this morning on a shuttle--actually a minivan. They guy charged me too much money. Oh, well. When I got here to the village of Shuangchen, I went to a public phone and called my teacher friend--the one I met in Lanzhou a couple weeks ago. He came and met me with his cousin and her sister. His cousin is the one who has set up the summer school program for village children. We stopped by her home so that she could introduce me to her parents. Her youngest sister waited on us politely. She was pulled out of school at the age of 11 or 12, because her father said he could not afford to send three children to school.

After lunch, we went to the little area where Jessica had rented a few rooms in which to hold her summer school. She charges each child 50 RMB, which is a pretty good price. This means that she is not making a bundle of money. This is her hometown, and she has a genuine concern for the wellbeing of these precious children. The children were understandably wide-eyed and curious, but very friendly and active.

This evening, after school, we hiked to the top of a nearby mountain, where there is a Daoist temple. We found, there, a few pilgrims who had come from various distances to spend some time in meditation. For me, it was just one more indication of the great spiritual hunger I have seen since I have been in China. So many times, over the past three years, I have heard people make remarks such as, "We Chinese have nothing to believe in." I lived in America for 40 years, and never once heard anyone say this. There is a powerful vacuum of belief in this country.

I am staying in a village guest house. Ten kuai a night. This afternoon, I took a nap and when I woke up, I noticed that one of my fingers had blown up like a balloon. It didn't hurt, but it was very swollen. I couldn't figure out why I hadn't noticed it before, and was trying to decide if I should start taking my antibiotic. This evening, the lady who runs the place came to my room and sprayed some sort of chemical on the beds. I was about to tell her to stop, because the chemical odor was stifling. But it has suddenly occurred to me that the swelling I have on my finger must be the result of some kind of bug bite. I am scaring you now; you really don't need to be afraid of staying in a place like this. Just be sure they spray your bed before you take a nap. When I was a kid, we used to say, "Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite." That little ditty has rich meaning in a place like this.

I arrived here in Linxia yesterday afternoon. I called my teacher friend, and he came and got me. I was standing in front of a hotel I had picked out of the Lonely Planet Guide, but he told me when I called him that he thought there was another one that was better.

While I was waiting for him, a group of people gathered around me. They were just curious, I guess. One Hui Moslem made a comment about my beard, so I asked him what he thought of it. He said, "Good. Very good." Then he looked at me again, "You're hat isn't so great, though." I laughed, "Sorry, I don't have one of those white caps." (The Hui Moslems wear white caps.)

Today, for me, was what expats would call a "bad China" day. Somehow, I ended up with a ferocious cold. I woke up this morning, dizzy with absolutely no energy. Then I was taking a shower, and the water just quit. I open the door and yelled at the fuwuyuan. I don't know what they were doing that shut my water off, but they stopped it, and I was able to get rinsed off. Later, I was washing my hands at the sink, and I spotted what seemed to be hand soap. I took a whif of it to make sure, and it just about knocked me out. I don't know what kind of chemical it was, but it definitely should not have been there, and I made sure they knew it. I don't want to go into a detailed description of this place, but it is a real dive.

And another thing. There is absolutely no coffee in this town. But should I expect coffee in a Hui Muslim community? You know what? I think I need days like today to remind me how totally spoiled I am in Beijing. Beijing is just too easy. It is such a diverse community. This town is definitely not diverse. But the people here are friendly, especially the men, who comment a lot about my beard. Many of he Hui have heavy beards. And this town is known for it's glasses. Believe it or not, they still manufacture the old, Qing dynasty style glasses here, and you see a lot of men wearing them. Big, round black glasses.

It's called the Everest Cafe. It is part of the Overseas Tibetan Hotel here in Xiahe. This place has three basic cuisines: Western, Chinese, and Nepali. If you ever come here, have the Mutton Curry Set. It's pretty good, and not too spicy. And the banana milkshake will help neutralize the spice. Don't even think about having breakfast here.

Xiahe is known for the Labrang monastery, which is the largest Tibetan Buddhist monastery outside of Tibet (I'm supposed to sound excited when I say that). I tend to feel that foreigners are overawed by Tibetan Buddhism, but it could be said that I am underawed, because I grew up next to a Buddhist temple. But this monastery is big, you sure can't deny that.

I did the tour today. I thought it was a bit expensive (40 RMB), but it was useful in a way, because the monk who led the tour spoke English, and he was able to answer some questions I had based on what I had seen in Langmusi.

Pulled out of Langmusi a while back. The guy sitting next to me just spit on the floor, and I reprimanded him severely. Now he spits out the window every few minutes.

What can I say about Langmusi? First of all, it is a very beautiful place. If you like mountains, you'll like Langmusi. The town and its surroundings feature rocky mountain grandeur on the Sichuan side, and rolling hills of various greens on the Gansu side.

The second thing I would say about Langmusi is that it is becoming a bit touristy. Before I came here this summer, I had never been to Gansu Province, and didn't know that much about it, except that it is often used as an example of very poor communities with limited educational opportunities. In making my decision about which villages to visit, I read a description of Langmusi that said Langmusi was a good choice because it was not listed by tourist agencies. But I read the statement too quickly. A guy from Australia who had been privy to the same source reminded me this morning what it really said: "an ideal destination for backpackers as it has not been listed on the itinerary of any Chinese travel agency." So you don't have Chinese tour groups coming through Langmusi. But tour groups of every other variety are abundant. I had never heard of Langmusi. I thought no one else had either. Boy, was I wrong! And since I was looking at the Gansu map and not the Sichuan map, I missed the fact that Langmusi is on the route to Jiuzhaigou, which everyone has heard of. Bottom line: Langmusi has loads of tourists. They come from all over the world.

But I still like the place. The main street is not paved, and the town is simple. Although an attraction to foreign tourists, it is still quite remote, and is not likely to become a booming metropolis anytime soon. And I can't imagine an airport in the near future. That is critical. There are lots and lots of tourists who just won't go somewhere if they can't fly. They won't be coming to Langmusi for some time to come.

Two main people groups predominate in Langmusi. They are the Tibetans and the Hui. This is what caught my attention when I first came to Langmusi. I was walking out toward the edge of town, when I met a little shepherd girl. I assumed that she was Tibetan, but I was perplexed because her Mandarin was impeccable. Later, I met her mother, who explained that they were Hui Muslims. Most of the Tibetans I met while I was in Langmusi do speak Mandarin, but they are definitely not native speakers. But, shy as they are, they are actually very friendly people. Early this morning, I was hiking up the canyon on the Sichuan side, when I discovered someone walking behind me. I stepped aside to let him pass, and noticed that he did not have a backpack, and was not carrying any gear. I asked him where he was going, and he said he was going to visit his parents. Curious, I followed him for a few minutes. We rounded the bend, and came upon a beautiful canyon in the meadow. He led me to his family's tent. Turns out he lives in town with his wife, and walks out to the meadow to tend the sheep with his family. They invited me in for a very filling breakfast of mutton dumplings. Really nice people. If you ever have a chance to go to Western China, I think you will find the Tibetan sheepherders to be among the coziest you have ever met. A lot of the Tibetan men comment about my beard. One of them said, "How do you grow a beard like that? I shave and shave and shave, and my beard still doesn't get that way." Well, I wasn't quite sure how to tell him that in order to grow a beard, you need to stop shaving.

This evening, I was taking a walk out in the country, when a young boy on a motorcycle stopped and motioned for me to get on the back of his bike. I asked him where he was going. He didn't seem to understand me, and motioned again for me to get on the back of his motorcycle. Well, I am not usually inclined to go riding off into the sunset on the back of a bike when I don't have any idea how far the guy is going to take me, and it is getting on toward evening, especially when I don't know where I am going. Story of my life, I guess. I got on the bike. The kid rode on for about a mile, then stopped where some other guys on motorcycles had gathered. I got off. The other guys took off, and I pondered my next move. As I scanned the horizon, I could see a tiny black speck in the distance, which I took to be a herder's tent, so I headed out across the grassland. When I finally got to the tent, an old lady was standing near it. I almost got killed by the family dog, because I didn't see it. She warned me just in time, and I jumped beyond the reach of the angry dog's chain. I really wanted to speak with this lady, but she obviously did not speak either English or Chinese. Fortunately, after I had been their a few minutes, a young boy rode up on a horse. He had obviously been to school, because he spoke Chinese, and was very friendly.

It was his presence, really, that allowed me to stay longer, because he was glad to see me, and very communicative. I tried a couple times to take pictures of the others, but they were very uncomfortable with that, so I taught the kid how to use my camera and let him play with it, hoping he would get some pictures I could not. It did not work very well, because he spent too much time taking pictures of me, but he did get a picture of his brother riding up on the family cow. The Tibetans are generally very shy, but shy is not the same as unfriendly. In fact, they are quite friendly. And the shyness applies mainly to those Tibetans who are still living a nomadic lifestyle.

Sitting here at Leisha's having a yak burger. The yak burger at Leisha's is a delicious sandwich made from yak meat, onions, tomatoes, and other vegetables between two pieces of Hui bread that is very similar to pita bread. And it is huge. In my opinion, the small one for 10 yuan is enough for two people, unless you've just come down from hiking in the mountains, as I did this morning. The large one ("Big Mac Yak Attack") is absolutely ridiculous. I believe anyone would even attempt to finish it, but believe it or not, some of them have. I saw a French guy order one yesterday. Unbelievably, he did manage to finish two-thirds of it.

Leisha's restaurant caters to the large number of foreigners who come through this town. I overheard one of the Tibetan monks saying that there are more foreigners than Chinese in this town. It almost seems that way; so far, every Chinese person I have met in this town has been a tourist. When I decided to come to Gansu Province this summer, I really had no idea which direction to go. I had originally focused on Dunhuang, because it is well known, but a few days before I left for Beijing, I started taking a closer look and realized that Dunhuang is actually quite a distance from Lanzhou (Gansu Province is long and narrow). So I decided to start by heading up into the mountains in the southwestern part of Gansu, because they are much closer to Lanzhou. This turned out to be a good thing, because the country school teacher I met in Lanzhou is from this area. So it was very easy to adjust my plans to include his village. In addition, he was able to give me a lot of information about the general area, since he grew up here.

Whenever I look for places to go in Western China, I try to identify one or two places that are frequented by backpackers, because they will usually have the best lodging and eating options, and also, very often, the best scenery. I latched on to Langmusi for this reason. Well, that and yak burgers at Leisha's sounded interesting. It is no coincidence that Leisha is a member of the Hui minority. I asked one of my Tibetan friends in Langmusi if he would consider the yak burger a Tibetan specialty or Hui specialty. He said definitely a Hui specialty. Tibetans eat yak meat, but not in a "hot dish" type meal. They are much more likely to put a couple slices of yak meat between slices of bread. They yak burger is a mix of vegetables, yak meat and spices that make it an incredibly delicious sandwich. In fact, it's probably not really Tibetan or Hui, because it is clearly tailored to the tastes of foreigners, but it is the type of thing that a Hui would be good at making. My Tibetan friend said, "We have a saying, 'Eat Hui food, but don't listen to Hui teaching.'" (The Hui are Muslims.)

Had a discussion this afternoon at Leisha's with a group of Israelis about the situation in Lebanon. I was expressing my frustration with Israel's approach (apparently copied from the Americans) of using bombing (which tends to be indiscriminate) as a substitute for a ground invasion, which admittedly kills more soldiers, but saves civilian lives. I have long been a critic of Israel's lack of regard for the lives of Arab civilians, but I do believe they need to put Hezbollah out of business. I told the Israelis that I believe Israel will need to occupy Southern Lebanon, because no one else seems capable of governing it. The Israeli young people were adamant in stating that Israel had no interest in being responsible for Lebanon. They seemed to feel that Lebanon should be "forced" to keep the area in control. I told them that I didn't think the Beirut government was capable of that. I also told them that the key issue here was the land. Israel is different from other nations in this regard. Israel's right to be on this land goes back to the Old Testament. They told me that that was only of interest to religious Jews. They said, "We are not religious; we don't care about that." I have heard this sentiment expressed by many (actually most) Israelis I have met in China. But I told them that even if they were not religious, they could not escape the issue. There is a reason that the nation of Israel was set up in Palestine rather than in Uganda. Sharon was not a particularly devout man, but that is one area where I have to give him credit. He is one modern Israeli who understood the principle of the land (though some would debate that, given his disengagement policy).

Pulled a long beautiful black hair out of my yoghurt last night. The Swiss lady who is studying the Tibetan language and planning to migrate to this area said it was "natural." I couldn't argue. I still prefer the hairless yoghurt, but it didn't seem to affect the flavor much. Speaking of yoghurt, I was talking with a guy from Italy about yoghurt, because he had advised everyone in his group not to eat the yoghurt, and I was telling him how good it was. He said that sometimes local yoghurt can be a problem for travelers, because they have not built up resistance to the bacteria. I am not sure how much this is a factor, but I do know that my first year in Beijing, I did have a lot more trouble with stomach disorders, mostly in the spring and summer, than in subsequent years.

I attended the sky burial this morning. The sky burial has been incorporated into Tibetan Buddhism, but it is actually rooted in the Tibetan native religion. At the sky burial, they keep you several hundred meters from the site, so you can't really see much (which is probably good), but one of the local Tibetans, who has been performing sky burials since he was twelve years old described the process to me.

First they take the corpse and hack it in pieces. Then they cut the flesh from the bones, so that the vultures can eat it. Here in Langmusi, I don't think they are actually removing all the flesh, just cutting it so it will be easier for the vultures. Then they pulverize the bones and mix it with a local grain mash that the birds like to eat. We were not able to see this process up close. But when they lit the smoke to signal to the birds, we could see the vultures beginning to circle. Because I came when they were doing an actual sky burial, I was not able to get up to the actual site (again, probably a good thing). But I met a guy later who had been up there before they started. He described what he saw...a couple cadavers (probably brought from far away and too old for the vultures), along with extraneous body parts. I asked the local guy why they don't just bury the body. He said, "Because we are afraid the spirit will not be able to get out."

On a lighter note, I had an interesting discussion with another local Tibetan. I saw a yak in the back of a truck and I was talking about it with him. He said,

"That's not a yak."

"Yes it is. That is definitely a yak." (Can you imagine me arguing with a Tibetan about what a yak is?)

"No, it's not a yak."

"I know what a yak looks like; this is a yak (didn't tell him I had never seen a yak before I came to this town)."

"It's not a yak. A yak looks different."

"If it's not a yak, what is it?"

"It's a zhe."

"What's a zhe?"

"The female. The yak is the male."

"Well, in English, a yak is a yak is a yak."

Turns out the English word "yak" comes from the Tibetan word for the male of the species.

Sitting here in a small Internet bar in Langmusi with a couple young monks leaning over my shoulder watching everything I do. Langmusi is a pretty little town on the Tibetan plateau situated on the border between Sichuan Province and Gansu Province. The bus I took from Hezuo this morning was new, so no problems like yesterday. I had been told that it would take about five hours, but the highway has been improved. It was about a three hour trip.

Not so much to see in Hezuo. It is not the beauty spot that Langmusi is. Mostly Hui Muslims, who make really good mutton noodle soup. However, there are also a few Tibetans there. Last night I was talking with a work crew of Tibetan ladies, all standing with their shovels in their hands. They were very friendly, but very shy. When I took out my camera and asked them if I could take a picture, they turned and walked away. I apologized and put my camera back in my pocket. I went into a local restaurant to get something to eat, and this guy promptly took out his cell phone and took my picture. Then he came over and ran his hands up and down my arms. So what's up? What's good for the goose is good for the gander, right? Well, not quite. Some folks are just terribly shy about having their picture taken.