Qingchengshan: To The Holy Mountain

The sage on the holy mountain is a pervasive image of Chinese culture, expressed most familiarly through paintings of rocky peaks, twisted pines, rushing mountain torrents and a small human figure beside a rustic pavilion. These pictures reflect a religious sensibility of retreat from the day to day affairs of society and busy-ness, to commune with a greater reality.

Mountain Forest in the Mist

This way of contemplation was the path of Lao Tzu and the Buddha and countless other sages and holy men throughout China’s centuries. The greatest of the sages attracted disciples, and over time the crags and caves of their mountain refuges became sites of temples to remember them and honor the gods, and these in turn became destinations for pilgrims, ordinary people unable to free themselves entirely from the cares of the world: spouses, children, homes, the entire catastrophe as Kazanzakis called it, before the additional calamity of email. So the common people made pilgrimages to the holy mountains in great numbers, perhaps to earn merit, to beseech a favor of the fates, or to refresh their own spirits. There are many holy mountains throughout China, some Buddhist, some Taoist.

Closest to Chengdu is the Taoist holy mountain of Qingchengshan. It is not so far. It is easy enough to hire a taxi for the day, drive out through the great sprawl of the city into the countryside, and soon arrive at the foot of the mountain. In this modern world holy mountains require upkeep and must be self financing so one first buys an entrance ticket to the mountain.

Mystic Barge Approaqches

A paved path ascends through misty woods up the way of a mountain brook, past rough log pavilions, while haunting Chinese music comes from hidden speakers. Then a still lake appears and all is soundless, muffled in the mist. Beyond the lake are ranges of forested mountains, ever higher, shrouded in the fog. A silent barge approaches out of the mist from across the lake, with the characteristic Chinese upturned corners of the roof. Even mystic barges must be self financing, so one buys a ticket to board.

The quiet crossing of the lake takes one to the base of a cable lift. In the old days the pilgrims would have made their way up the mountain entirely foot, no doubt having to spend some nights on the mountain in the process, but in this world of day trippers, we all line up to buy another ticket, then are swept up the mountain, flying through the tree tops in ski lift chairs. It is a holiday mood, many are taking photos, a few coming down in the lift as I go up, notice me and wave a friendly “Hello.” 

Cable Lift at Qingchengshan

Fast step off the cable lift into a foggy and chill complex of restaurants and tea houses.  Fortifying myself with a doughy bun left over from breakfast, from here begins the climb up steep stone stairs, some so ancient the water running down the mountain has shaped grooves into the stone. Going up the mountain are porters with great baskets of supplies for the monks, reminiscent of  the Himalayas of Nepal.

Mountain Porters at Qingshengshan

Throughout the mountains of ancient China porters or pack animals were the only means of transport and beyond the top of the cable lift that remains the case at Qingchengshan to this day.

Trudging up at a measured pace in my mountain boots, note a Chinese lady in dainty brocade slippers coming down. Reach a great gateway, decorated with an array of colorful statues of gods and demi-gods. Here the bearers of the sedan chairs notice me and offer to carry me up the mountain, but am not yet so far gone as all that.

Up the steep mountain, the entire way stone stairs, eventually reaching a temple hall that enshrines Lao Tzu, the sage whose Tao Te Ching sketches out the elusive mystic thought we call Taoism. Here there is an explanatory sign in two forms of Chinese script, English and unusually, German. Must have been a volunteer German on a project here once.

The sign explains that the sage Zhang Ling, strangely called here the founder of Taoism, settled in Tianshi cave on this mountain, and developed Taoism. Latter I find that he founded the first systematic order of Taoist monk-priests, around the 140s AD,  presumably in imitation of the Buddhist monks. Zhang Ling’s sect became the order of the Celestial Masters.  Initially leadership was hereditary, passing on first to Zhang Ling’s son, then his grandson. The movement attracted a great following among the common people, particularly among the minority Ba but also among many ordinary Chinese, the Han. It became known as the Five Peck movement, for the annual tribute of rice each member paid to the organization. In a couple of generations it gave rise to a theocratic state, centered in Sichuan, that rebelled against the authority of the Emperor.

Like the current Falun Gong religious movement, which the Chinese state so fears today, the Celestial Masters were not in their origin a political movement but instead had a strong spiritual message. They ended the blood sacrifice of animals, until then a part of the Taoist ritual. Repentance for one’s sins and faults was a crucal practice, perhaps not so dissimilar from Maoist self-criticism. They believed there is an energy source, qi (pronounced “chee”), that pervades the universe. Humans have a limited amount of qi, and while it can be restored through meditation,  it can be lost through sin or other activities that deplere body fluids, the latter belief leading to an entire Taoist theory and set of esoteric practices.

Shrine of Lao Tzu at Qingchengshan

Continue the climb up the steep stone stairs to the shrine of Lao Tzu. A sign states “Lao Tzu has always existed in the great infinite, yet is constantly immersed in the world of change so as to save humanity. He descended to produce the Dao Te Ching in the time of the Xie dynasty.”

One more push takes me to the summit, 1220 meters. Here another sign indicates that the concentration of negative oxygen ions is 18,000/cm³.  This is the cradle of of eco-civilization as well as the birthplace of Taoism.

Sleeping Monk

Here I suddenly find myself alone, a rare event in China. Solititude is broken only by a Taoist monk who has fallen asleep listening to his holy radio. After some minutes here, I begin my descent, quickly running into hordes of tour groups of Chinese tourists who have just finished lunch and begun coming up the mountain.

To escape this bedlam, I find a little used side path. It leads me through a set of large terraces where the monks’ vegetable garden is planted.

Pavillion of Troubled Monk

Ahead lies a beautiful yellow pavillion. Approaching it, I am dissuaded and intimidated by a loud striking noise coming from the pavillion. Circling lower down the slippery path, can look up from the vegetable garden to the pavillion where a solitary monk paces around like a caged lion, as if in a rage or distess, striking the pillars violently each time he completes a circuit. Leaving the troubled monk to his thoughts, I return to the main stairway, make my way through the mass of tourists coming up, until I reach the cable lift and retrace the route down the mountain, across the lake, and into the parking lot to the waiting taxi, and back into the traffic of the 10 millions of Chengdu.

Obama Goes to the Great Wall

November 19th

A Lot to Talk About

No doubt avidly following this blog, Obama too has become intrigued by China and followed our footsteps here, though he stayed on the eastern coast without venturing inland. He did the usual novice tourist trip to the Great Wall, and while one would have thought that the president has better uses for his time, a visit to the great wall is practically forced upon foreign dignitaries by Chinese hosts, who I can attest can be very insistent on an agenda related to the glories of China. Kissinger, paranoid as he was, believed that the visit to the Great Wall was a ploy to wear him down and wring out more concessions.

Barry is a thoughtful lad, though. Stuffing his hands in his pockets against the cold, he got away from his entourage and did part of the walk along the Great Wall alone, presumably contemplating Ozymandius, wondering which side of the Pacific he lives on. Afterwards he said reflectively, “It reminds you of the sweep of history. It gives you a good perspective on a lot of the day to day things. They don’t amount to much in the scope of history. Our time here on earth is not that long, and we better make the best of it.” A serious young man. Impressive.

However, there is the report that the solitary walk was in fact choreographed for photographers, and that White House aides were exultant at the snaps, even though it is thirty years since Nixon used this hackneyed photo op and symbol of China’s fear of the outside world to make polite statements about the great history of China. These Americans seem to manipulate views of reality; can they really be trusted in what they say?

Part of the matter is that there are two broad views of China in America. Basically Americans agree that China is an oppressive dictatorship as well as an economic and therefore ultimately political and military super power in the making. The difference is what to do about: Liberals vs. Cold Warriors

Thoughtful liberals, like Barry, use the broad historical analogy of the inability of the international system to absorb the rise of Germany leading up to WWI and then its even more unsatisfactory sequel, WWII. Better than go through that sort of catastrophe is to accommodate, be friendly and polite; welcome the Chinese to the world market place, making a buck while you are at it; give them a feeling of respect as if they had a say in world affairs; and gradually let materialism and internet porn corrupt their willingness to work so hard. The Chinese will end up all driving Buicks and listening to Britney Spears on their i-pods, not realizing that they have been fobbed off with outdated brands, and we all live happily ever after in a multi-polar world.

Thoughtful Cold Warriors use the broad historical analogy of the breakup of the Soviet Union. Through the pressures of ongoing containment and full spectrum military dominance by the USA, eventually the internal contradictions of an oppressive regime will tear it apart, and a Chinese Gorbachov will give up the game, let Tibet go, let Taiwan go, let Xinjiang go (if you can keep a lid on Islamic extremism there), maybe even, more psychedelically,  give Hong Kong back to the British and split China into southern Cantonese and northern Mandarin states. America remains the sole super  power guaranteeing world peace and justice, and we all live happily ever after. One small detail, the Chinese call this hegemony and they really don’t like it at all.

Reality being always cruel, there are chinks in the plausibility of both the happy tales, Liberal and Cold Warrior. However, Barry is in the driver’s seat right now, so it is the accomodationist view that prevails. The Chinese do not gloat publicly, its always better to keep your thoughts as secret as possible. Moreover, with their own long history of bureaucracies the Chinese realize that the Pentagon and the cowboys in Langley still carry on. Presidents come and go, but the pros stay on the job. Likewise the Chinese know that in a few years the Americans might vote in a sequel to the Cheney-Rumsfield show, even if it can not be re-run for a third time.

The joint US-China communique issued in the names of Hu and Obama through all its boiler plate, trivia and bland details, deserves more analysis than can be given in this post. But listen to Obama accepting language for which the Chinese were no doubt desperate; Obama walking the talk of Brookings liberal think-tank building strategic trust, soothing words for those fearful of outside enemies who once vainly sought shelter behind a great wall:

“The two countries reiterated that the fundamental principle of respect for each other’s sovereignty and territorial integrity is at the core of the three U.S.-China joint communiqués which guide U.S.-China relations.  Neither side supports any attempts by any force to undermine this principle.”

If this seems like it hardly needs saying and sounds more paranoid than even Kissinger at the Great Wall, the Chinese do not easily forget that the Americans supported guerillas in southern Yunnan as well as Tibet through much of the 1950s while its military commander in chief in Asia publicly urged nuking them. Further back, America opposed the rise of the current ruling regime in the 1940’s  and to this day provides high tech weaponry to the breakaway province of Taiwan. Strange how some folks just won’t let go of their pain.

The mantra of building strategic thrust is now being chanted throughout Washington. As for its prospects, listen, a China Daily reporter presents the views of the man in the Chinese street, “Those I spoke with are not in awe of Obama and fully know that China is once again one of the leading world powers. Many said that they doubt the US will cooperate with China. Some asked if he really wants peace with their nation. Or as Fu put it: “China’s power is rising. Obama showed that the US is worried about the rise.”

High Stakes Mah Jong

A Long History

Bicycling in Chengdu

November 5

Cycle Scrum in Chengdu

Chengdu is an immense New York or London sized city with a population of over 10 million. Outside rush hour it takes over an hour to drive from the heart of Chengdu to the countryside beyond. Even to get around the major historic sites around the traditional center of Chengdu, the distances are too far to be conveniently walked. Fortunately one advantage of the backpacker mansion hotel is that they rent bicycles, affordable at $2 a day. Bikes are a very practical way of getting around huge and flat Chengdu. Of course there are vast numbers of cars, over 10 million new cars were sold last year in China, and the city’s spread makes bicycles impractical for getting between the inner center and the outer suburbs. But bicycles may well transport as much or more traffic as cars for people who only need to travel around one quadrant of the megalopolis.

Set off unsteadily, but the traffic is light on the Ming fantasy Qin Tai street and there is a bicycle lane, as there is on most major avenues. Sometimes the bike lanes are on the street separated from the cars and buses by a line of steel barriers. However, passing out under the northern gateway to Qin Tai onto a major boulevard, the bike lane turns right up a wide sidewalk, sharing a clearly marked space with pedestrians.

With landmarks from the map in my mind, trundle along nicely, after a while cross a major avenue and enter a street level bike lane protected by intrusion from cars. Along with the bikes are an equal number of scooters or light motorcycles. These are all electric, silent and smokeless. Very impressive and a clear technological lead, in a modest sub-sector, but real nonetheless. Another interesting innovation is an umbrella pole on some bikes so you can cycle in the rain and stay dry.

Cycle Monitor Waves Her Flag

At major heavily trafficked intersections there are bike monitors, armed with red flags and whistles to insure that the cycles all obey the red lights. Crowds of thirty or more cycles accumulate at a stop light, and it feels like a bit of a scrum taking off with the starters’ whistle, but despite accelerating off at different speeds, everyone seems very traffic aware with wide peripheral vision, and with only very occasional ringing of cycle bells, the traffic sorts itself out in a business like way, when such a process would surely lead to gunfire and deaths if tried in Latin America.

Get to the key landmark of a bridge over the Jin Jiang river which tells me I have gone far enough to reach my destination, the cottage of Du Fu, the Tang dynasty poet.  I begin to iterate around the neighborhood to the right of the bridge where it should be. It is an area of much new construction of high rise apartments, with large lots where whatever was there has been leveled for new building. Find a promising looking cluster of ancient style buildings, but this turns out to be another Ming fantasy tourist trap for Chinese tourists, all shop fronts and restaurants, not the poet’s cottage.

Stop for directions at the ticket window to what turns out to be some ancient monastery. With the aid of the map, I am able to ask the wizened ticket seller and a well dressed woman where the poet’s cottage is. No where near here. Missed a landmark and after much gesticulation with the map, figure out that the route has gone south rather than northeast. Nothing for it but to set off again, checking the map more frequently against landmarks and the street signs which most considerately are usually given in Roman letters as well as Chinese characters. Though it’s a bit of a trek, make it to the poet’s cottage in reasonable time.

Bird Seller with Cages on Bike

 

Qingyang Temple Devotions

Central Courtyard at Qingyang Temple, Chengdu

November 3rd

Still waking with jet lag at 4 a.m., so it is easy to follow the cliché of going to bed early at night in China, to better see temples during the day. Dawn comes late in Chengdu since it is on the same time zone as Beijing, nearly a thousand miles to the east. Once the sky is light – there being no visible sun rising, so thick is the haze – breakfast is delicious cooked vegetables, fried noodles, steamed buns and Sichuan pickles. Then walk through the park towards the Qingyang Temple. The park is busy early, some solitaries doing their tai chi, others reading a book or a newspaper, various groups exercising to music from portable speakers.

At the gateway to the temple, legless beggars scuttle their stumps about on the ground with their hands, strapped to pieces of old tire rubber, clamoring their ancient cry for pity. Hard to say that the return of this relic of the old China has been an achievement for the reform. With averted eyes, enter through the gatehouse into the first courtyard, where all is crowd and bustle. Before the red colored wooden hall on a raised foundation at the end of the courtyard, is a great bronze vessel on legs where burning incense sticks are stuck upright in the ash by the devout. There is also a large multi-layered candle rack where again the devout place burning red candles.

Devotions at Qingyang Temple

Many old women, but also trendy young ladies and well dressed men are folding their hands in prayer, grasping burning incense sticks, and bowing repeatedly with eyes closed towards the holy statues in the hall. Then one after another they kneel on cushions inside the hall before the giant seated golden deities, prostrating themselves in prayer.  This is repeated at each of several halls containing different sacred statues with similar courtyards each with its incense vessel and candle rack. In a quarter of an hour a hundred devotees repeat this ritual in front of each of four or five halls, thousands of devotees passing through in the morning.

Marxism has been no great friend of religion, long seeing it as superstition oppressing and exploiting the people, the opium of the people. But Mao wrote “We cannot abolish religion by administrative order or force people not to believe in it….The only way to settle questions of an ideological nature or controversial issues among the people is by the democratic method, the method of discussion, criticism, persuasion and education.”

Never mind whether this quote understates full official discouragement of superstitions in the past, the evidence is clear. Despite the risks, despite decrees from imperial Beijing, mothers passed on the ancient beliefs in secret so that their daughters, now aged women themselves would, after all the struggles and thought campaigns of decades ago, remember to follow the rites today. More striking still are the devotions of the men in business suits and the young ladies in short pants, leggings and high boots. Perhaps seeking luck on the next deal or perhaps they are just larking? Perhaps not.

Chinese Tourist at Qingyang

Half the crowd is indeed camera ready boisterous tourists, joking loudly with their companions,  taking snaps of a family outing or of a sweetheart,  while a few bespeckled men intensely concentrate on artful architectural studies with long lensed cameras. Not being myself here to make an outward display of reverence to the gods, it is timely to turn to the engraved wooden guide posts explaining the site to visitors in three varieties of Chinese characters and English, seeking grasp a bit the  of this temple.

Drinking Tea in Chengdu

November 2nd

Mah jong in Chengdu Tea Garden

Wander aimlessly down Qin Tai Lu to find, through a circular door of a flounce roofed gateway, a covered foot bridge across the Jin Jiang, the Brocade River. Under the willows by the river is a tea garden. Walk over the foot bridge to the Bei Hua Tan park and once in the tea garden, an unscrupulous sharp young man seats me on a wicker chair. He brings a tall glass with tea leaves in the bottom, and a large thermos full of scalding hot water, enough to make several glasses of tea. Although he overcharges me, it is pleasing enough just to understand in Mandarin how much he bilks me, and to be taking first steps into street China. Brushing off a lady who offers a neck message and ear cleaning, am then left in peace with my green tea. The tea leaves all float to the top of the glass when the water is poured in, but slowly each one sinks to the bottom. The flavor tastes strong and slightly bitter.

The tables around are mostly full of foursomes playing mah jong, though a few play cards. Many are clearly playing for money. Larger groups of friends or sometimes extended families with a child, pull together a few tables to picnic on fruit and nuts. Some couples chat. A few men read newspapers. One man plays a haunting flute. Chengdu has numerous tea gardens in parks, along the rivers, in temple compounds and on quiet streets. Like English pubs, the tea houses are a better place to meet with friends than a cramped city flat, more private, and for many a more gracious setting. Now in November it is pleasant to soak in the pale afternoon sun seeping through the haze, but in the summer heat, evenings in the tea gardens must be refreshing.

Music in Chengdu Tea Garden

Nothing would be better than to have a newspaper to read in a tea garden, but despite scouring the city for several days, failed to find any English language newspaper on sale. In Chengdu, a city of 10 million, the presence of foreigners is infinitesimally insignificant. News, though, is available through the guesthouse lobby wireless internet connection. The government China Daily reports today on the 60th anniversary of Chinese Air Force. Its commander says that the modernization of the air force is needed to safeguard regional stability and world peace.

“Regardless of the extent of its development, the People’s Liberation Army Air Force will never pose a military threat to any country.” Another China Daily story reminisces, “27 year old pilot Li Han in his MIG-15 shot down the Air Force’s first enemy jet in the Korean War in the 1950s. Pilots of the People’s Chinese Volunteers in the Korean airspace stunned many American veteran pilots with thousands of dog fight hours in WWII, just like the new born calf does not fear the tiger.” There is only one comment posted, later removed. “Now, the hegemonist will think twice before trying to challenge China’s awesome defense.”

Taking tea over several days in different gardens, a favorite, until the noise of the subway construction drove me away, was one in the Culture Park with a small lake and a landscaped island with a Chinese pavilion. Two young couples were paddling about in a swan shaped pleasure boat on a Sunday afternoon, when a girl in the boat with the blue coat saw me sitting here and waved a laughing “Hello”, just having a silly time.

Swanning About in Chengdu Park

First Glimpse of Chengdu

November 1st

A Chengdu Avenue

Swiftly through immigration at Chengdu airport to enter the formerly closed China that once could only be seen at a distance, blurry in the haze across the valley from a hill view point in the Hong Kong New Territories. Now uniformed officials in surgical face masks crisply take health forms, input passport details into the computer, and x-ray baggage in a bored routine. The foreign exchange bureau counts out Mao faced red 100 yuan notes with a rapid counting machine.

A thin young driver with spiked hair is waiting outside with my name on a sign. Boarding a new grey sedan in a large full parking lot, we exit past a group of Tibetan monks circled around an ancient sage, and speed on to the airport expressway towards the city.

Soon the car takes an off ramp onto six lane wide tree lined avenues through miles of new buildings, mostly about five or six stories, but many thickets of tall apartment towers, twenty stories or more, and some office towers- China Mobil, hotels. Construction cranes are erecting new buildings in some tower clusters, but though nothing is old, not all has been built in just the last couple of years. The avenues are planned with no cross streets and center barriers block any left turns, so now outside the rush hour, the traffic dashes along a mile at a go between intersecting boulevards. Bicycles and motor scooters trundle along in the inner-most lane. Groups of long haired girls in preppy dress stroll the sidewalks, completely Western in appearance, if perhaps too neat. Little shops all along the boulevard, trendier and more up-market as we go toward the center. All these little businesses, thousands of new capitalists striving.

The driver gives a text book answer to the question of his name, but the conversation flounders on not grasping his reply to where he is from, and he has little interest, as his cell phone repeatedly chimes some not quite recognizable bar of pop music.

A Fantasy Street: Qin Tai Lu, Chengdu

After several miles down these boulevards, blue signs in Chinese and in Roman script indicate the inner first ring road, and soon, crossing the tree lined Jin Jiang river, the car turns up into a fantasy-land street of faux Ming buildings: dragon roofed, red columned, with yellow tiled eaves, Chinese character signs all in red and yellow, and white Asian lions guarding the doorways of the grander businesses. The street is paved in dark stone with carved relief sidewalks. Trees line the center, bronze statues are at both ends and a Chinese gateway auspiciously stands at the north end. All much more charming for the traveler, architecturally more classical, neater, newer, cleaner and more harmonious than shambling old Grant Street China-town in San Francisco. Disney could not better it, though it just received license to try by building a theme park in Shanghai.

The hotel has the mock Ming style, and as is traditional, is built around a courtyard. This is a budget hotel though, so we go through the backpacker drill. Pert Vicky reports that my room is not available. She shows me a gloomy dorm room on the ground floor without obvious plumbing. No, that will not do. Perhaps you would like to go to another hotel. No, I have a reservation here. Please sit and I will see what we can do. In two minutes they show me to a bright third floor room with hardwood floors, a rosewood desk, a rattan settee, firm beds, functional plumbing and a sunny window looking out onto a leafy tree. A base to operate from. China.

“To Know China”: Beginning of a Journey

October 31st

Waiting in the Dragon Air airport balcony lounge, watching the morning bustle of small boats, ferries and a stream of loaded container ships leaving Hong Kong’s always exciting harbor. Slept overnight from San Francisco, across the Pacific, an insurmountable barrier for thousands of years, China’s coast to an infinite ocean. Spanish galleons began sailing the dangerous Pacific crossing from conquered Acapulco to meet Chinese merchants in Manila, the mainland not yet open to foreigners. Some storm tossed returning galleons wrecked, scattering porcelain shards on the stone age California coast. But now, after a thorough security check, I answer email in the global office, then have a breakfast bowl of rice porridge and a first cup of tea. The lounge is still a Western traders’ outpost, heavy boned executives thumbing their blackberries while unseen oriental servants silently clear dirty dishes.

The plane takes off for Chengdu mid-morning. The pilot is British and the wine French, just as in the 1860’s Yangtze steam boats, though now the vegetables have the living flavor of China, a miracle for airplane food. The plane climbs over the immense skyscraper forest of Hong Kong and its hinterland. The newspapers report a new stock market opened yesterday, there below us in Shenzen: ChiNext, the Chinese Nasdaq. Targeted at small to medium companies, it rallied wildly, with a single day 80% rise in Chengdu based digital TV equipment maker Geeya Technology Company. Trading in Geeya was suspended three times during the day. The market raised $2 billion in initial public offerings in the session, and by the end of trading, the value of the newly listed companies was over $20 billion, creating fortunes for founders and investors. Flush with capital, China is the world’s biggest market for initial public offerings, and its resurgent economy is flush with capital and investors with a big appetite for risk.

Cruise away from Hong Kong into the haze that always seems to hide China from the air, brown at the horizon, blue below. Later, shadows of a few crags, a wandering brown line of a river, then a blanket of clouds. Descending towards Chengdu, snowy peaks of Tibet stand far in the west, the Gonga Shan. Below, dry brown hills with villages tucked in the mountain folds, then the green Sichuan plain of famously abundant harvests, a wide slow river, then suburban sprawl of new housing estates, something like the approach to Dallas, and we land. China.

Wang Chen, minister of information, is visiting Israel, and after a thorough discussion of China’s strategy for the information age, near the conclusion he notes,

“To know China, it is necessary to take its history and culture into account. In history, the Chinese people used to be bullied and humiliated by Western powers. Sixty years ago, Chinese led a life of poverty and hardship, and had no access to the least human rights. After the founding of New China, the Chinese people have become masters of their country. Their life has improved tremendously, in particular, over the 30 years since China’s inauguration of the policy of reform and opening-up.”

What is spoken of, is not really it.

This is the first in a series of posts about a three-week trip to China! Be sure to keep checking for further updates!