Huangshan

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.