Funny place, China.
Ok the Lawrence Clan didn’t see much of the country, it is huge after all, although with the crowds of people everywhere we went it did feel like we had met most of the population. Certainly many Chinese people now have a new treasured possession: a photo of Trixie. Whenever we were out and about and walking in Duck and Ducklings formation, Lexi leading with descending order of Lawrence offspring following and me at the back, Chinese smart phones were pulled out and people got snapping and filming. The one-child policy appears to be rigidly enforced so the sight of first foreigners, then add to that foreigners with children, three of them, and two of them being blond was just too much to resist.
There is a genuine liking or love for children among the Chinese, evident not just from the number of times we were stopped and asked for photos, in varying degrees of English proficiency, but it is also clear from doting parents and grand-parents taking their little ones out and about that children are extremely important in Chinese society. This is admirable particularly with the rise of the demonisation of youth in the UK media. However my memory of children and China is a bit more concerning. There appears to be more boys than girls. My comments are only based on 12 days in Beijing and Xian and are not particularly scientific but I made sure that several times during my trip I stopped and counted all the children I could see, noting the numbers of boys and girls. Every time I did it there were more boys than girls. Not much can be read into my small attempt into sociological research but if it is in any way indicative of a larger issue in China then this has the potential to be very worrying indeed.
To make sure that we behaved ourselves at all times police officers, customs officers and traffic wardens abounded. Generally the police went around in pairs and occasionally wore uniforms that fitted. The more senior the officer the more likely they were to be wearing the right size and the bag checking officers all looked just right in their uniform. The officers who were the most comfortable were the ones who sat in heavily armoured, black, hummer-like vehicles positioned around Tianamen Square. The beady-eyed occupants had their ultimate patrol cars’ engines running at all times and were clearly primed to pounce on any possible miscreants. I would imagine that the lower rank blokes, because they mainly were blokes, who drove around in mid 1980s Volkswagons could only dream of being put on hummer duty. While the lowly street police simply wanted a pair of trousers that fitted.
While stamping out public protest or the dreaded democracy was high on the list of key police duties stamping out touts was not. On a visit to the Olympic Village we decided that we should take the children for a swim in the aquatics centre. I was feeling rough that day so opted to help get everyone there and then go back to the hotel for a sleep. However I did hang around long enough to make sure that everyone got in ok. About 50m from the main entrance we were approached by our first tout who, in confident English, offered us tickets at less than half the official price. Employing the “If it appears too good to be true, then it probably is too good to be true approach” we ignored his persistence and went to the main entrance. Four blokes in suits that fitted turned us away. Between them managed to say “counter five” and pointed. Passing two more touts we found counter five, apparently the only ticket counter around, and set about trying to buy official tickets. As usual the lady selling tickets spoke no English at and appeared to be flummoxed. What on earth did we want? Eventually, thanks to lots of miming and pointing at children and Lexi we managed to communicate that we wanted to buy tickets and money was exchanged. The ticket price was double what the touts wanted, but at least the tickets did work and the suited fellows let our tribe in. It was yet another bizarre moment that the legitimate ticket sellers could not communicate with us but the dodgy ones were very skilled indeed. Lexi had a similar experience in a so-called “Tourist Centre” in Xian. She went and asked to buy a map. Her request was met with total lack of comprehension. No amount of pointing, shouting or miming met with any success at all. If you never seen a grown woman miming “map” then please ask Lexi to demonstrate sometime. It really is a splendid sight and would make Lionel Blair and Una Stubbs jealous. It clearly works as she was able to buy a map from a street seller close to the inaccurately titled tourist centre, all thanks to the power of mime. Who said Drama was no use?
Fortunately not everything we got up to in Xian, near-ish to the home of the Terracotta Warriors, was quite so confusing. There was one guy who worked in our hotel who spoke a few words of English and prided himself on his pronunciation, which was indeed very good. He very kindly wrote down the names of the places that we wanted to go to so that all we had to do was show the piece of paper to any taxi driver and off we went. We it was almost that simple. Xian did appear to have thousands of taxis, but they appeared to be in use all the time. Then there was the too many children problem. Each taxi was only licensed to carry four, a bit of problem for us lot. We got round it eventually by hiding Rupert behind some suitable object or parent and then, when a vacant taxi finally appeared, he would dash into the back and sit on the floor behind the driver’s seat. The whole foreigner with children and pieces of paper thing then created enough of a diversion in the taxi drivers’ minds that they all failed to do a head count and we travelled to where we wanted to go. Rupert was then permitted to sit on the back seat when we judged that the meter had ticked over to a sufficient enough price to ensure that the driver was not about to kick us out.
The Terracotta Warriors themselves were rather impressive, and as with the other tourist attractions we visited were packed with people. We were perhaps more taken with the idea of Xian’s other advertised tourist attraction, on the road to the Terracotta Warriors. This sign gave directions to “The Terracotta Worriers.” This attraction was infinitely more appealing than their braver and all-round more confident cousins. Equally confusing were the translations of signs at Beijing Zoo and the Ming Tombs. The sign that the children and I found next to a set of stairs was probably the most inspiring as it read “Those with heart problems, elderly or disabled should throw caution to the forward slope.” I had hopeful visions of retired angina sufferers in wheelchairs arriving at the obstacle in question and declaring “Well I got this far so I might as well go for it!” and letting their brakes go for one last, glorious dash into adrenaline fuelled and care-free oblivion. Language errors can be extremely funny, including the dish advertised as “black fungus good for the cleaning of the lungs” but they can also create confusion as well as make the thing they are trying to describe look silly. Dual language signage costs lots, but inaccurate signage can back fire (I dread to think how that might be translated!)
Overall our China adventure was certainly an eye-opening experience. Although I am not planning to rush back I did enjoy it. The extremes are visible everywhere: the Audis and VWs and then just round the corner the people take food out of bins and eating it. Could some of the many millions spent on internal security be diverted into social security? Then there was the continual development. Every city that the express train stopped in on our 1200km to Xian appeared to have been knocked down and rebuilt as a clone of the previous one with towering condos replacing historic courtyards. And finally there was the small issue of freedom. I have found writing my rambling blog quite therapeutic but the soon to be closed www.posterous.com was clearly on the list of banned sites in China, so publishing my ramblings was out of the question. The Chinese economic miracle, post Tianamen, has been to make its population as wealthy as possible so that they become too accustomed to materialistic trappings and tummies full of KFC to stop them wanting freedom. What harm can writing your thoughts cause?