Back to Hohot, Back to Xinxiang, Back to Reality

Back to Hohot, Back to Xinxiang, Back to Reality

The trip from Datong back to Hohot was uneventful though it was a nice day of clean air once we got out of the city. From that point of view, I should probably not call it uneventful at all. Clean air is indeed an event. Another uneventful—i.e. typical—situation was the traffic snarl we encountered trying to go the last block into the bus terminal. I clocked us at taking 20 minutes to go the last hundred yards and make a left turn across the lane of oncoming traffic. Needless to say there was no traffic light, no one to direct traffic and no one in the oncoming lanes willing to stop a moment to let anyone make a left turn. To quote the Analects of Confucius, “And so it goes...”

At the evening meal across the street from the hotel I was spoken to in English for the only time on this trip. The speakers were two 15 or 16-year old waitresses who were almost surely just junior high school graduates or drop outs who took this job near the hotel for the occasional break from drudgery that I apparently represented to them. They were paying a Chinese person to teach them some English occasionally, but when they found out I was a native speaker and a teacher they immediately asked if I would take them on as students. For a second I was afraid that they were going to get down to do a traditional kowtow and call me master. I hastily explained that I was just passing through and it wasn't possible. They reminded me so much of my early attempts to learn Cantonese on the street in Chinatown in Chicago, a far cry from the privileged in both China and the US who could shell out big cash to send their bright aspiring youth to study abroad. Stubbornness and a willingness to work my way overseas and learn on the street eventually took me a long way, but only in miles, not career. Indeed, it ultimately dead ended me into permanent “comp slave” status on both sides of the Pacific. I wish these two young ladies well, but it's a very safe bet that if I were to live long enough to go back there in 20 years, I'd find them. My young university students are yearning to go to the west of China to give educational opportunities to the poor children in the villages of Xinjiang and Gansu but haven't figured out that they could save a lot of bus fare by just looking under their noses.

While looking for an internet bar afterward we stumbled onto a small old Daoist temple just blocks from the hotel. The priest we talked to said he was one of five who look after the place and interest in Daoism is growing. He told us he was 75, so he was born in 1932 and has seen a lot of history. For example, he recalled that the Japanese military had come to Hohot. I really did not know the Japanese had gone so far into Mongolia until I came across it for the first time reading Haruki Murakami's The Windup Bird Chronicles. The priest also said that he got lots of trouble during the Cultural Revolution and was chased to this place from his original temple, which got shut down. He told me what sect he belonged to and that Daoists still revere Laozi and pay attention to diet and do not eat meat. His parents were Daoists and that was how he got his start. He smiled when I was able to quote a few lines from the Dao De Jing (道德经), and that earned me some "free" books on Daoism though I had to follow with the customary "offering." (Life in the Daoist world is all about balance, don't you know.) We got a complete guided tour of the temple and it was interesting to see a whole separate room for a very large statue of the God of Wealth (财神) complete with smaller statues of Kuanyin and the Buddha thrown in for good measure. As a passerby told me in one of Buddhist temples in Datong regarding the Book of Changes zodiac on the temple floor, well, these traditional philosophies have lots in common. This is certainly true enough, but these believers might just be covering all their bases in a kind of Chinese version of Pascal's wager. This point was reinforced to me later in the evening when we passed a good sized Christian church, and just down the block a bit there was a store with "Soul Bookstore" in English over the door. It sold religious books and crosses, etc., but they were covering their bases too because they also sold drapes and curtains on the side!

Most of the last day in Hohot was spent at the Inner Mongolia Provincial Museum. It is a new huge building with very original architecture. An interesting aside first: We went there by #3 bus, which in fact is run and driven by the military. There was a statement behind the driver's seat that this service was set up to serve some military offices in the area and the public as well. In fact, there were no military personnel on the bus that I could see and I'm thinking it was mostly a public relations thing. The bus driver was a rather austere looking woman in her 20s wearing her army uniform, but she was quite helpful when I asked about where to get off for the museum. I only felt bad that I hurried to the back of the bus so as not to miss the stop and didn't properly thank her.

The museum itself is very impressive—four floors with exhibits on two themes, natural history and Mongolian culture. As for the former, there was an excellent dinosaur and early mammal exhibit with findings from the many rich dinosaur bone fields in the Gobi desert (another parallel with the Dakotas). The exhibits were accompanied by video displays rivaling those of Jurassic Park. The other natural history exhibits were on the geology and geography of Inner Mongolia and how the exploitation of these resources is of great benefit to the nation, etc., etc. I had not been aware of the great diversity of Inner Mongolia's geography including wetlands and forests mostly in the northern and northeastern regions. Much of it looked like northern Minnesota. Everywhere too were statements about the importance of protecting the environment.

Most of the rest of the museum was devoted to the history, culture and society of the Mongol peoples, who are many and varied. The main theme was how these peoples were/are an integral part of the Chinese nation and Chinese history. There was nothing at all that I could see about the country of Mongolia just down the pike to the north. The Wei and Liao dynasties, both of Mongol origin are especially fascinating in that they had a very high level of culture and indeed four or five of the Mongol peoples, including the Manchus, had their own writing system totally distinct from Chinese characters. One small group, the Dauer, number only about 130,000 today and still don't have a written form of their language. Well, as noted in an earlier blog, when your culture turns into a museum exhibit, you'd better be looking over your shoulder because the handwriting is on the wall.

One last exhibit was about Inner Mongolia at the time of the anti-Japanese war. There were many pictures and stories of young “heroes” in their 20s and 30s who were killed by the Japanese for their communist party/nationalist activities. No doubt that their anti-imperialist sacrifices and struggles were inspirational. The exhibits were used, however, to lead into rather typical statements about Chinese Communist Party (CCP) history and how due to that history the CCP is uniquely suited to continue leading China today and into the future.

Before going to sleep I headed across the street for some bottled water. Looking to stretch a bit, I took the stairs instead of the elevator and saw some interesting stuff on employee bulletin boards. All of this stuff probably came out of some undergrad personnel management course in the US. There were pictures and awards for the employees of the month, just like the nonsense I used to see at the University of Wisconsin in Superior (except there the big prize was a special parking place!). There were complimentary messages about particular employees from guests (I presume) to make the workers feel good in lieu of decent pay. Sound familiar, oh ye workers of the world? Workers of course are decent human beings and for the most part are kind to their fellow human being hotel guests just as I have busted my chops to teach decently for little pay, no permanent job status and expensive insurance policies (or none at all). There were even English phrases pasted up on the board like “Corporate Culture” without any Chinese translation. Give me a break. I doubt that even one of these sheet changers and mop pushers ever had a chance to go far enough in school to learn such English vocabulary if any English at all. Another interesting notice had to do with an insurance policy option for drivers. They could choose to buy medical insurance for things that might happen to them on the job—accidents, injury, etc.—for 100 yuan per year, maybe about 10 or 15% of one month’s salary. It was not really much, but I could see people blowing it off. What the hell, pocket the money and take your chances. What are the odds that they would pay up on your whiplash anyway?

The last thing of interest I noted was at the Hohot airport on the way out.　　Clearly catering to the air traveling Chinese business crowd, there were translations of two of Thomas Friedman's feel good books about the global economy—a great thing for everyone, especially Tom Friedman. It just needs a little tweaking in some places once in a while and then we will all benefit. In Deng Xiaoping's immortal words, some of us (us?) just have to get rich first. (His children happened to be among the very first.) There was also a book by a young Chinese CEO, which contained the following advice on politics. As a business person, you have to stay on top of what's going on in politics, but don't try to influence it. This guy will definitely go far.

Well, I can't say the trip to Inner Mongolia was a waste. I got 80 papers and journals read on the road a whole day before getting back to Xinxiang in time to get a fresh batch. Workers of the world...