Huangshan

Mt. Huangshan is named after the legend that Chief Huang, who is said to be the first king in Chinese history, once made elixirs here and went up to heaven after taking those elixirs. Mt. Huangshan is indeed the "king" over all the mountains with its incomparable natural beauty,. Being proud of its 72 famous peaks, the 3 highest ones of "Lotus Flower", "Bright Summit" and "Celestial Capital" are wound by seas of clouds and fog all the year round. The grandness of Mt. Taishan, the clouds and mist of Mt. Hengshan, the flying waterfalls of Mt. Lushan, the elegance of Mt. Emei and the steepness of Mt. Huashan have all been embraced in Mt. Huangshan, which also holds four Ultimate Beauties, namely, the grotesque pines, the odd shaped rocks, the sea of clouds and the hot springs. In 1990, Mt. Huangshan was listed by UNESCO in the Catalog of World Cultural and Natural Heritage, thus becoming a treasure of the mankind.

At the foot of Mt. Huangshan exists Huangshan City (originally called Huizhou Prefecture) which boasts of well known scenic spots such as the tender Taiping Lake, the Taoist Mt. Qiyun and Guniujiang Natural Reserve, etc. Its magnificent landscape gives birth to a splendid civilization, which is characterized by Huizhou Painting, Huizhou Carvings, Huixzhou Opera, Huizhou Medicine and Huizhou Architecture. Those are vividly depicted in such historical and cultural relics as the "Old Street" in Tunxi District, "Ancient Village Houses" in Yi County and the "Tangyue Archways" in She County, etc.

Each year, Huangshan China International Travel Service receives thousands upon thousands of foreign tourists, who have enjoyed our quality service and excellent reputation.



Thousands upon thousands of foreign tourists, so the brochure goes. At least the only part in English does. The English speaking Chinese guide who met me at Huangshan airport, (and with a stretch of the imagination, one really could envision it as an airport, I mean, the plane did land there), gave it to me, as it had a little map of the entire Huangshan mountain region on it. All in Chinese, of course. But, that really wasn't a problem. I needed the map, because he was going to leave me in the capable hands of his non-English speaking driver, who was going to take me up into the mountains for my first stop, the Hot Springs Hotel (and with another stretch of the imagination, one could envision this as a hotel). But before we dropped him off in downtown Huangshan, on the way up into the mountains, he showed me what I was supposed to do the next two days.

"Tomorrow, from the hotel, you walk up this trail (one of many on the map), and go to the top of the mountain, where you will stay at the Bai Hei guesthouse". Fine, I thought, no problem. "Are the signs on the trails in English?", I asked. "No, all in Chinese. Look at map". I thought this was going to be quite the experience, as on the small map, I could barely make out anything that resembled visible Chinese characters. I figured that I would just make the best of it, and just keep walking until I found the hotel. What a great way to spend a birthday. And, as I had experienced a few years ago, climbing another of China's famous or holy mountains, I told him that "and the driver will drive up with my bags." I thought, this should be fun. I walk, and my bags meet me there.

"No, you carry bags. No cars to top of mountain". Oh. Eighty five pounds of bags, and he wants me to carry them. Well, I figured, it would be good exercise.

How long does it take to get to the top?

"If you walk fast, six to eight hours".

And with that, he got out of the car on a corner, in a "downtown" that I kind of missed, of a city that I didn't really see. Walk fast, six to eight hours I thought. How long if you get lost?

In five minutes we were in the mountains, on a narrow road, with no side rails. Shame I couldn't see more, as it got dark out fairly soon after that. I had gotten the impression that we were in a real pretty area. I tried to make sure that I would look for downtown Huangshan on the way back out.

He had told me one other pearl before he disappeared in "bustling downtown" Huangshan. He said that over the years, he has very rarely seen an American here. "Most foreigners don't come here. No one knows about Huangshan". I was wondering why people at the airport were looking at me funny. You would think that I would have gotten my first clue, when the Boeing 737 we were on only had about 25 passengers. Pretty atypical for a Chinese flight. You're usually packed in pretty tight. If you think that American airlines put the seats close together in an attempt to erode the tips of your knees off, try sitting in a Chinese flight. And for some strange reason, I always get some really smelly Chinese man with absolutely horrible stale cigarette and god knows what else breath, sitting next to me. And of course, for some reason, I'm always given a window seat. And, of course, this absolutely stinky Chinese man had probably never been in an airplane before, so he's always trying to lean over me to look out the window. I wouldn't even think of changing seats with him, because then I'd be between two stinky breath Chinese men, who would probably be talking to each other the entire flight. No, your typical Chinese flight was not what I had between Guilin and Huangshan. It should have made me suspicious.

I stopped him before he disappeared, and asked him if he had any travel documents for me. For some strange reason, all I could think of was trudging up thousands and thousands of steps, getting to the Bei Hai guesthouse, and finding some poor little Chinese girl at the front desk who had no idea who I was or why I was there. Thoughts of climbing this huge mountain, and then sleeping outside, quickly entered my head.

He said, "They wait for an American. And maybe, you leave your bags at Hot Springs Hotel". And with that, he was gone. Disappeared, into a downtown that I'm going to have to look for on the way back out.

Thoughts of climbing the mountain all damn day, getting there at night, and finding that some other American took my already paid for room, started entering my head. For some strange reason, I didn't have a good feeling about this at all. The people up at the Bei Hai didn't even have my name. I guess the guide, who really wasn't guiding me, was right. They just don't get Americans here. "Thousands upon thousands of foreign tourists...." Who the hell were they talking about?

An hour and a half later, deep within a mountain range, was the Hot Springs Hotel. The driver dumped me off and left. No problem, I figured, I'll just change money here (as I had spent all my Yuan with the exception of about 14 Yuan- almost two bucks), get into a nice room, and spend the evening, what's left of it, in a hot spring. I started thinking of what I was going to try to leave here, and what I was going to backpack up with me in the morning. Tomorrow was my birthday, and I was going to spend part of it soaking in a hot spring before attempting the monster climb to the top.

The girl at the front desk had no idea who I was or why I was there. And she didn't speak English. Actually, none of them did. All they did was just stand there and kind of look at me funny. Apparently, the travel agent who took care of this didn't book me. I was at the right place, but there had been a communications breakdown. Fine, I figured, I'll just pay the three hundred Yuan for the night, and I'll deal with this issue with my travel agent. I asked if I could change a hundred dollar bill into Yuan. One thing that I've learned when traveling China, is that you always, always, carry a few American hundred dollar bills with you. The Chinese love American money, so if you're ever in a "predicament" where there is no communications, all you have to do is whip one out, and your problems instantly disappear.

Apparently, they had not seen an American hundred dollar bill before. Nor had they seen Traveler's Cheques. Couldn't change money. I had fourteen Yuan on me. Couldn't communicate. And I had no room. And worse, the hot springs were closed.

Welcome to a typical experience traveling in China. This was going to be an adventure.

Huangshan Gallery: (Click to open):

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8/1/97

I awoke at 0530, which for me, usually my bedtime back in the US, was quite the change. I had gotten through the mess of the night before after about an hour of using what little Chinese words I knew, drawing pictures, pointing, and just generally, making faces. As they most probably have not seen many Americans before, I figured that they were not too understanding as to what a pissed off one was capable of doing, especially a big bald smelly one. I got the room. They even fed me. Something very unidentifiable. I made damn sure that I took a roll of the white stuff with me the next morning. Another thing I learned traveling China, is that, along with the American hundred dollar bills, you should also have a roll of the American white stuff. Both very valuable, both not interchangeable. Nothing else really mattered.

Having no idea how long the next adventure was going to take, I had decided to leave as early as possible. The last thing I wanted to do was get lost up there in the mountains. But first, I had to visit the Hot Springs. I had told Woody (a Chinese travel agent somewhere over here, who's real name is Lin something Lin, "lin" meaning forests; so, for an English name, he picked "Woody". One day I'll have to email him and try to explain what it really means), "make sure that you get me in a hot tub for my birthday. And fill it with desirable and desperate women". Well, the search for the Hot Springs was on. At 0700. And with the aid of my little map, and some help from the obnoxious cab drivers up on the hill who wanted to drive me there, I walked across the bridge and found the place.

It wasn't exactly what I expected. No, not some natural hot spring surrounded by nice rock formations and beautiful extravagant vegetation, it was more like the YMCA in bombed out Yugoslavia. A pool, with what can best be described as a "building" over it. I actually didn't care at that point, my sole desire was to be in hot water for my birthday. It wasn't a bad pool; though, the hot water wasn't distributed throughout as I kind of expected. As you swam around in it, you went primarily from relatively cool water, to spots of hot water. Almost as if some huge creature with a weak bladder had been in it overnight. The water intakes from the hot spring, where ever it was, came into the bottom of this fifty foot pool in a few places; the rest of the water most likely came from the cold stream outside. In a moment of brilliant Chinese construction, the builders must have decided to mix the two in the actual pool, instead of in another vessel, before putting it into the pool. I spent an hour or so swimming around the pool in an organized search pattern, trying to delineate all the areas of hot and cold. Boring? No, actually, it was the most fun I had had all day.

Because the rest of the day was painful. Starting at the ticket counter, the hike up to the Huangshan mountain complex was long, and full of many, many stairs. Kind of like the Chinese Stairmaster, but with all of the stairs going up. Three hours of up. No foreigners. No Americans. Actually, not many Chinese. And not much to see. By the time I got to the top, I finally realized where all the people were. They took the cable cars. What took them ten minutes took me over three hours. So much for being the smart American. And I had walked fast. Well, fast, for me.

A word of advice: if you do come here, take the cable car. (besides, the scenery is better on the top. Unless you like bamboo forests and stairs. Lots and lots of stairs).
On the top is where the scenery really starts, And unfortunately, my digital camera just doesn't do it justice. It seems to have a hard time with fog and clouds, which, is what you have a lot of here. Rugged and jagged mountain peaks with various types of pine trees, all surrounded and enveloped by constantly changing patterns of fog and clouds. From one minute to the next, a view changes, all because of the constantly flowing "seas" of clouds and fog. Absolutely incredible.

According to the map that my non-guiding guide gave me ("Maybe I see you at the top tomorrow, I take tour there". Yea right. I'll find him, amongst the thousands of Chinese, all of whom took the cable cars, up there), there are names for all of these peaks. Don't expect any identifying names for these pictures though, I had enough trouble using the map to figure out where in this maze of perfectly made stone walkways I was. And after the perspiration had completely soaked my clothes and saturated the precious map, which was in my back pocket, it had fallen apart at a critical moment, lost, at the juncture of a few pathways. Taking a wrong turn in this maze of mountains and walkways is really a big mistake, as you just end up climbing more and more stairs.....

But it was really beautiful, despite the thousands of people up in there. Large groups of Chinese, each group wearing a different color hat, following a guide with a bullhorn and a ridiculous little flag, all trying to make their way up and down and up and down the narrow walkways. I had been fascinated by the walkways, all kept perfectly clean and spotless by these men who walked around with large tongs, picking up not only whatever minimal trash there were on the carefully cut, laid, and placed stones, but also whatever leaves may have fallen on them. And for a first, the Chinese hadn't been throwing their trash off haphazardly to the sides of the path as I had seen so many times before. Trash was placed in containers which were abundantly placed throughout the "park". It kind of reminded me of Disneyland. But then I thought, we Americans just wouldn't have a park with all these damn stairs.

After I had passed the cable car exit up near the mountain top, I realized that there were just more stairs. And that was when I started to wonder how in hell they had built all of these patios, buildings, and walkways, all the way up there. There was just no way to motor anything in. Food, supplies, construction equipment, anything. That's when I realized that it had all been carried up and down and up and down this mountain and that mountain, from the bottom of the damn park, to it's final destination, by hand.

Workers carrying a chop saw, blades, rolls of wire, rice bags filled with cement mix, buckets of kerosene and water, food, vegetables, beer, etc. All tied up and then suspended from a piece of split bamboo. One side rests on one shoulder, then a stick is used to rest on the opposite shoulder to support the other side, which is behind the human mule. You thought you could get big muscular calves in the gym? You should see these poor bastards.... They carry this stuff, and all the other food and building supplies, on their shoulders, from the bottom of the mountain. Nothing is taken up by cable car, as those seem to be reserved for people. And after reaching their destinations somewhere up on top, they run down the stairs with their split bamboo, yelling for people to get out of the way. Almost as if they had a daily quota to fulfill. A few knocked me off balance the next day on the way down (not a difficult thing to do, I occasionally lost my balance without anybody's help a few times), sometimes at awful moments. The Chinese got a kick out of watching the big bald American stumble off the stairs. I started to wonder after a while if they were making a point of doing so. Bowling for foreigners.....

The tour groups were a fascinating lot. Actually, I had gotten a demonstration of "Chinese consideration", all with the help of some of these tour groups. Over the years, I've come to realize that the Chinese are a very warm and friendly people. But I've also learned something else. Whether they tend to be highly regimented and unyielding because of their upbringing and education (or, their relative lack of it) and therefore either unable or uninterested in determining solutions to "problems" that they haven't been conditioned to respond to, or, they're just a damn inconsiderate bunch, I haven't really figured it out yet. Maybe it's part of their Confucianism upbringing, where a respect for authority, and following its mandates regardless of the situation, comes into play. "Be nice to the American" was not part of their rules. You see it in their driving, you see it in the waitresses and waiters, and you see it in the tour groups. (Interestingly, I didn't see it in the monks....) I've already discussed how the waitresses "go out of their way to be nice"; how they are constantly at attention to your needs and to the set up of your table. And god forbid, you introduce something "foreign" to that table, something in which they haven't been trained to respond to, like, a laptop. Everywhere I went, my laptop caused distress, confusion and consternation when placed upon the table. Rearranging my space at the table, placing chopsticks, glasses, bowls and dishes where "they didn't belong" just brought all sorts of rearranging attempts by the waitresses and waiters. I had figured that they didn't learn what to do when someone puts a laptop on the table, so they just kept responding in the manner in which they had been conditioned. And, on top of it all, they pay attention to everything you do, or everything that you may (or may not) need. Empty glasses have to be filled, even if you want to bring whatever water is left in that bottle with you when you leave. Soup has to be placed directly in front of you, the rest of the food, of course, where the laptop sits. I had always gotten the impression that the help had been getting frustrated with me, as I just would not eat the way that they had expected me to. And only rarely did I sense genuine friendliness from the workers. It was almost as if they had been trained to respond in certain ways; had I dropped my drawers and pooped on the table, no doubt one of them would have come up to me to offer me a napkin. And of course, try to put the food dish where my laptop was. It was always an entertaining experience. No doubt, I made friends in restaurants everywhere.

But the tour groups were another story. The "hundred foot ladder" (that part of the map hadn't disintegrated yet) was a narrow staircase, in the middle of which, as it had disappeared between to rock faces, shrunk to the size which would only permit one Chinese sized man to pass, for about, oh, thirty feet. How I was going to get through with a 25 pound back pack (filled of course, with my laptop, computer supplies, the always accompanying toilet paper, and a pair of underwear, socks, and one shirt. I thoughtfully decided to leave the all weather North Face jacket back at the Hot Springs Hotel, in my bag, as the relatively bright sunny weather didn't show any signs of rain) and two camera's hanging from my chest, was just beyond me.

Well, it was obvious that only one person at a time could pass through this narrow gap. I decided to be the considerate American, and try to teach the masses by way of my humane and considerate example. I waited at the bottom of the staircase for a while until the crowd had thinned out a bit. The Chinese, most of whom had probably laughed at me on their way up in the cable cars, noticed my humane and considerate example, and walked around me to try to fight their way to the top. After about twenty minutes of "teaching", I kind of gave up and just got on line with the rest of the masses. There was to be no thinning out of the crowd, and there was definitely not going to be any humane gestures coming in the future.

Unfortunately, there was a tour group at the top, and a whole mess of us at the bottom. There just didn't seem to be any end in sight; more and more people just bunched up behind us. For reasons unknown to me, other than I guess "momentum", the people at the top kept coming down through the gap, leaving the rest of us to bunch up on the bottom. Now, one would think that maybe small groups would "take turns", maybe ten at a time, letting some come up, and then, some go down, especially considering that these groups are led by tour guides who come up here at least three times a week? Forget the tour guides, maybe just human nature and consideration would have permitted it.

No, the top group, who had momentum coming down the stairs, just wouldn't stop. (The fat lady had plenty of momentum; she grabbed my arm and almost pulled it off as she slid on buy, kind of out of control on the narrow, slippery steps; I was glad she finally got "below" me. Now that, "bowling" on the "hundred foot ladder", would have been a picture...) It started to get out of control, after about twenty minutes went by, and the groups just kept coming down.

Aggravated Chinese from the bottom started squirming on by between the line waiting to go up, and the line falling down the stairs, making what should have been a comfortable though narrow single person wide stairway into a three person wide stairway. Kind of like the typical Chinese road. These people climb stairs like they drive. Yelling and screaming erupted, as a whole mass of people from the bottom started yelling at the guy on the top of our line, who was patiently waiting to go through the gap. Just absolutely loving it, stuck in the lower middle of this morass on the stairs, I just waited for the riot to start. Boy, that was going to be fun. But then the unexpected happened. No, the upper groups didn't decide to just finally wait and let some of the lower groups up. The guy at the top of the line finally got some balls. He started up through the narrow gap.

That's when the real fun began. The upper group decided that it wasn't going to let us come up, so they just kept coming down. And halfway through the narrow gap, all the squeezing by and pummeling of the members of the opposite direction came to a screeching halt. We were stuck. Halfway through the narrow gap, we owned the bottom half, and the upper group owned the upper half. Behind the upper group, were more people. Behind us, the lower group, were many more people. Both groups, all moving with one purpose in mind. To get where they were going.

Nobody went anywhere. For about fifteen minutes.

I have no idea what people were saying to each other, but I can assure you, it wasn't at all friendly. Now, as I was closer to the gap, I started to wonder if I was going to fit through it. The backpack behind me, and the cameras in front of me, were not going to allow me to go up sideways. And being crunched within my lower group, there was no way I was going to remove any of it. The width of my shoulders prevented a "straight on" approach, so I wiggled into a half way position, about 45 degrees, to get through. But at this point, as we were not moving, I really wasn't all that concerned.

That's when the fight broke out. One lady at the top of our line starting hitting the lady at the bottom of their line. Not exactly gong fu, it was more like pummeling. And that's when, in the space meant only for one, the two ladies, punching at each other, pressed each other against the opposite wall, and squeezed by each other. One of us started getting up, which, was good for our side. Problem was, one of theirs started getting down, which was good for their side. As we both saw that we had "won" this encounter, nobody decided to yield. So, with the occasional smack and punch and very frequent yell and scream, their line started coming down, and my line started going up. People took any opportunity to aggravate or assault the opposite team. We started to move, and because of the mass of people behind our respective lines, we had no choice. Once the masses behind us sensed movement, they moved. And they didn't care to stop.

That's when the woman at the head of their line, who started this fight, started to approach the area that I was squeezed into slanted ways. It was obvious that we were both not going to fit on the same step; that there just was no room for her to get around me. There really wasn't enough room for me, let alone her. A smaller Chinese man was one thing, me, that was totally another. I had no idea what to do. She did. She punched me, pushed my shoulder aside, and tried, with all her might, to squeeze by me. When we were standing on the same step, squished up against both rock walls, we got stuck.

That wasn't part of her plan, so, she started to yell at me. As if I could understand what she was saying. I decided that it was time to stop the American gentleman routine, and start the "don't f--- with the New Yorker" one. Now, even though I had been brought up in New York, I never partook of the concept that hitting a woman was a proper thing for a man to do, in fact, I abhorred the idea of touching a woman with the idea of causing harm. That was just a line, regardless of the situation, that I was just never going to cross. I just thought, that regardless of how much this woman smacked me, I was just not going to hit her back. It was out of the question.

Throwing her down the stairs however, was an option, especially if I could do it in such a way so that no one would notice. Thoughts of the masses of people behind me, all molded firmly into the staircase, ruled out that option. Picking her up over my head and tossing her over the side was going to be too obvious. I was at a loss. I just didn't know what to do about this crisis.

Hitting her, or throwing her down the stairs was just not going to be acceptable. Crushing her was. As she was squeezed next to me, I decided to turn so I was facing straight up the stairs. My width only allowed one, and I was bound to prove that point to my little tigress on the stairs. I had been beaten before by Chinese salesmen and prostitutes, but I was just not going to be beaten by this woman on the stairs.

As my shoulder squished her little face, and my chest crushed her body against the rocks, I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was sorry for yelling at me. All I could think of was "that's the last time she smacks an American". And then, somehow, I just moved forward, all due to the overwhelming forces behind me. Banging and squeezing and yelling, one Chinese after another, I squished and smooshed one unfortunate little body after another. And then, it was all over. I was out of the gap, and I rushed up the rest of the stairs.

There had been no one else there. No more groups coming down. For some reason, those last twenty people on the top just obstinately had to pass through. And then, all the masses of people below surged up the stairs. What a scene. Of course, many of my group from down below, including myself, stopped at the top, and sat down, overlooking the masses down below that we had so successfully conquered. I have no doubt, that they thought, as well as I did, about what bad asses we had been.

I hope that lady's face is alright.

Five hours later, without getting lost once, I made it to the Bai Hei Hotel. I had given up on the map, as there was just no way I could match those tiny little sweat soaked Chinese characters on the rapidly disintegrating map with the small unidentifiable Chinese characters on the signs. I did what every smart tourist does when they're in a situation that they can't figure out. You ask people. And if they ignore you, you give them money and then ask them.

As opposed to the Hot Springs Hotel, which really didn't look like a hotel, this facility, way up here on top of one of the many mountains, was pretty majestic. Well, at least by Chinese standards. How they built the damn thing I'll never know. Must have had hundreds of those poor guys carrying stuff up on their shoulders. And, they gave me a room. Didn't even have my name. Just gave me a room. Without looking at me funny.

The next morning.....

At 0530, for reasons which are still way beyond me, a knock came at my hotel door. As I had passed out rather early the night before, from all the outrageous stair climbing, 0530 was bad, but it wasn't "go out and kill" bad. I assumed, that since I was at the top of one of the more important Chinese mountains, that the hotel was awakening people for the typical "get up and watch the sunrise" bit. So, I got up.

As I looked out the window, I really couldn't see anything. The fog was so thick, that I could barely make out shadows outside in front of the hotel, draped in some funny looking cheap poncho things. There must have been well over fifty people outside waiting to watch the sunrise from Huangshan mountain. Despite the fact that I was in the usual Flexeril fog at the time, I, with whatever limited mental might I had at the time, could not fathom any reason why these people were standing in the rain to await a sunrise which no one was going to be able to see. I went back to bed. I wasn't going to start the hike back down until noon, and this was to be my "sleep in" morning.

Rude loud Chinese voices went up and down the hallway, again, for reasons that I still can't fathom. Didn't these people realize that some of us had wanted to sleep? I guess not, because at 0600, there came yet another barrage at my door. I decided to ignore it. Besides, I already missed the sunrise that no one could see.

And then, every half hour thereafter, someone, who I was never to identify, banged on my door with what I thought was a bat. I started to wonder what I was going to do with this individual and his bat if I ever found him. But I decided to again play the role of the understanding nice foreigner, so I ignored the assault on my sleep time, and just stayed in bed. Besides, there were a lot more of them on this mountain then there were of me.

But at 0730, I had had enough of it. As soon as the now routine barrage hit my door at 0730, I was up and out. I yanked open the door and stepped out into the hallway, looking for my aggressor. I had already decided that it was going to be bloody.

There was no one there, other than about eight of the cleaning girls who had been assigned to the third floor where my room was. And they were rather shocked. Aghast was more like it. I decided to add to the impression that I had already made. "What miserable bastard is knocking on my f-----g door at this god forsaken time in the f-----g morning!, knowing damn well that none of them spoke English, and that none of them had the slightest idea of what I had said. But it sounded good. They just stood there. Aghast. Completely aghast.

It had then occurred to me that there was no miserable bastard aggressor who I was going to smear across the hallway floor. The knocks had come from the cleaning girls, in an effort to get the room occupants out as early as possible. You see, the sooner they got their work done, the more time off they had had in the afternoon. I had experienced this before, but usually, at 0900. Getting the hotel clients up at 0530 so they could clean rooms was a little ridiculous, even in a country such as this. But from the shock on their faces, I had also immediately realized that I had made my point. I realized that they weren't going to bother me again.

I also realized that I was standing in the hall amidst all of these people wearing only my underwear. With holes in it. Drooped halfway down my ass.

Yes, I had made an impression. What a sight that must have been. I went back to bed to try to get some sleep. It was a rather unsuccessful attempt; the morning had been completely wasted.

But they never knocked on my door again.

At around 1000 I had decided that it was time to head off. It was still raining a little, but worse, was the dense fog which had settled in on the mountain top. I changed into my other tee shirt (the dry one), packed, and left. I really didn't make it far outside the front door of the hotel.

You see, I was wearing a tee shirt that, in Chinese characters, had said "Tsong Wen Shao Lin Tse", which means, China's Shaolin Temple. I really hadn't thought much of it when I threw it into my back pack the day before. I had proved to be one hell of a mistake.

As I walked outside the hotel, I had noticed that the fifty people from the 0530 sunrise watch had swelled into about three hundred. And, as opposed to yesterday, when people had just looked at me in a curious fashion, this morning, I was just assaulted. They started yelling tsong wen shao lin tse, and pointing. At me. People started crowding around me, touching me, patting me on the back, stopping me, preventing me from, well, basically getting the hell out of there. People stopped me to have their pictures taken with me; pictures with them, then with their children, with them and their children, with their wives, with their wives, children, and anyone that was in close vicinity, hell, I should have just opened a booth and charged them. It was absolutely ridiculous. Nothing but thumbs up everywhere (which in China means "number one", or hen hao, "very good"). All they could think about was getting their picture taken with the guy that trained at the Shaolin Temple. All I could think about was "which one of these bastards knocked on my door this morning"....

It literally must have taken an hour to take pictures with all of those people. I wasn't just a foreigner now, an American, which a good deal of these people may not have ever seen before. It occurred to me that I was now, inadvertently, a representative. And as I've noticed before, in my travels through China, regardless of the region, or the distance from Shaolin, that the Shaolin Temple holds one hell of a special place in all of these people's hearts. And I think that it's more than the fact that Chan Buddhism basically started at the Temple. I think that it is the Shaolin gong fu that really makes these people revere the place.

It took a couple of hours to walk down. I had found the trip actually kind of difficult, as my balance was pretty bad, and walking down narrow steps just seemed to be more of a challenge to me balance-wise than walking up. Especially with the human mules running down to get their next load. I tried to hide part of the front of my tee shirt with one arm, as the routine comments were just starting to get to me. If I were to say that more than one out of every five people I ran into on the way down had said "tsong wen shao lin tse", or "gong fu", I would be exaggerating. If I said that less than one out of every ten made a comment to me, or gave me a thumbs up, I'd be lying.

It was quite the experience. I never wore that tee shirt in China again.