Datong--From the Sublime to the Earthy

Datong—From the Sublime to the Earthy

We got a cab first thing the next morning to head out to the Yungang Grottoes (云冈石窟) just outside of town. This is the main attraction of Datong, dating back to the early years of the Northern Wei dynasty in the 5th century A.D. The grottoes are carved into a one-km long sandstone mountain ridge and hold some 50,000 statues of all kinds and sizes from the minute up to the 17-meter high seated Buddha. For those into such things, it's easy to see the strong Indian artistic influence on these carvings reflecting the recent arrival of the Buddhism from India at the time. The cost, energy and craftsmanship required to build such structures at a time when there was little to spare in a subsistence economy never ceases to amaze one.

It was somewhat surprising that there were very few foreign tourists there, though indeed it was past the international tourist season. However, since it was the week of the National Holiday the place was swarming with tourists from all over China. Thus, the austerity of the place was pretty much lost, not only from the crowds but also from the huge coal complex that you knew was just across the valley. By late morning a steady rain was falling and umbrellas suddenly sprang up to 150 yuan from just 15 a few hours earlier. I put a plastic bag on my head and made do. One woman was trying to sell me a picture book of the grottoes for 265 yuan that I had seen on the street for 90 the day before. Indeed, as one so often hears back in the US, things can change fast in China!

On the way out to the grottoes, the cab driver and I were exchanging stories about drunk passengers and other risks and challenges of my former profession. He was also quite interested in US alcoholic beverages and taxes. He seemed pleased that in China when something is listed as 10 yuan, that's what you actually pay. He also said that, unlike the rich in America, the rich in China do indeed pay taxes but nothing in comparison to what they rake in. Then he said what I've heard so often here in the same joking manner—about how the big guys in every country always get the cream and the rest of us have to do real work. Of course, that's true enough but I almost think many average Chinese almost feel good about how they have now joined this “family of nations” and can claim solidarity with the rest of the world. Now that China has fat cats, China has arrived. Another topic was race relations. He seemed very pleased with China's record. One does certainly see many slogans about all people's unity (团起来) as though sloganeering makes it so. Nevertheless, for sure there is more recognition here of the need actively to stress and promote the need for racial harmony, bilingual education, etc. whereas in the US all of this is swept under the rug or papered over on the assumption that all individuals are equal before the law. None of this takes away from the fact that in both countries the real divide is socio-economic class status, the elephant in the room that no one wants to notice.

What's just as impressive as Datong's huge coal complex itself is the many, many blocks of apartments stacked on the low mountain right below the mine entrance to accommodate the workers, certainly many thousands of them. In response to my question, the cab driver said that this particular mine has been safe because it's overseen directly by the state. He said that it's in the small independent mines where the fatalities happen. Even if true, the stats are that about a dozen or so coal miners die in China every day. I've seen several times in international news reports that a new coal burning power facility comes on line in China about once a week. Both the US and China are burning more coal than ever. I just hope that there's no coal under the Yungang grottoes or their fate will certainly be sealed.

Datong is certainly a kind of backward city, not only for its older housing stock but just little things like the fact that the bus station where you buy tickets is in one place and depending on where you are going you might have to trudge for blocks with your luggage to some unmarked parking lot where the bus actually departs from. Unlike in Hohot where a computer spits out your ticket with all the details of cost, seat and departure time, in Datong the handwritten ticket doesn't say anything about which bus you're on, not to mention a seat; it merely confirms your right to fight your way on to one of the busses leaving that day. You also have to pay one yuan for insurance—from Datong to Hohot but not the other way. What do the Datong drivers know that the Hohot drivers don't?

In a bookstore in the highly commercialized temple complex area, we met a young woman who went to a computer school after high school in another city but came back to work in this city and felt positive about recent improvements, modest though they seemed to me. She gave up on computers and got the bookstore job because she loves to read and suggested a couple of popular contemporary novelists. It seems that lots of people I've met are loyal to their home area, even a kind of run down place like Datong. Of course, this is more true of working class people everywhere—place and family are more important than mobility and career—who you are with rather than what you do.

My last experience in Datong was to shed a tear before boarding the bus for the 3 1/2 hour ride back to Hohot. I saw what I took to be a public toilet across the square in a small building run by an old man who sold small snacks and daily use items on the left and oversaw the very odiferous toilets on the right, which more than overwhelmed any pleasant smells that might have been coming from the snacks not 10 feet away. I told him I needed to use the facilities, so he promptly asked me “a shit or a piss? (literally a “big comfort” or a “small comfort,” 大便 or 小便). I wasn't expecting to pay or answer such a question and hesitated for just a moment, so he continued, “Shits are a dollar and pisses 50 cents.” So I said, “A piss” and promptly handed him my coin. “Door number three!” he said, and for just a split second I was reminded of some US quiz show game, but I quickly realized I was in a different realm as I followed my nose down the corridor, held my breath, did what I came for, and headed back to the bus.

I really want to come back to Datong someday. Its combination of ancient cultural treasures and earthiness—China in a nutshell—appeals to me.