Cloudy in Beijing Blogging about my time in China

Anyang

Like Xi'an, Anyang is another ancient capital in China. The Shang dynasty kings settled the city more than 3,000 years ago, and archaeologists continue to excavate ancient artifacts from area. With no school this week, I decided to go and visit the place.

I have to say, lately I've felt a bit insulated in where I live in Beijing. The city and its comforts are modern, the restaurant menus all display English, and an unshaven foreigner always seems to be in my field of view.

But in boarding the train to Anyang, I felt I was away from that. We waited in line, a long mass of people holding out their pink tickets. Carrying nothing that resembled a suitcase, old men shouldered large burlap sacks over their backs as they ambled up to the gate. And around me the speech began to change; the firm and steady Mandarin I was used to going silent, and morphing into the almost whimsical dialects of China's different provinces.

During part of the train ride, a young couple sat across from me. They talked and talked, but I have no idea what they were talking about it.  Something, something, Shanxi province, and something, something, cell phone was all that I heard through their thick accents.

I arrived in Anyang (population 5 million) this afternoon, and I've already wandered through the streets a bit. The city feels a bit older and noticeably dirtier. Buildings look faded; the government painted letters on the train station are now but a pinkish white. At the Lanzhou restaurant I ate today, a cockroach creeped past my foot.

I see more stray dogs on the streets, scavenging through trash or looking lost. Buses still display an ad for a Chinese movie that was shown more than a year ago. If you wander too far, you'll know by smelling a faint whiff of manure some of these nearby farms possess.

I've seen no foreigners here. But I have seen quite a few poor people. While eating dinner, a speechless old man asked for spare change, going from table to table at a large outdoor dining area. Later, a blind man, carrying a Chinese fiddle, somehow managed to cross a busy intersection, only to then play for money on a bustling sidewalk street. Just a small walk away, a young teacher knelt in front of a shop and begged for cash mutely. A sign written on the ground in front of her said she needed the money to pay for her husband's surgery.

I was almost shocked to see this, since in Beijing I've rarely encountered it so far. But in my days walking the streets of Xi'an, this was quite common. I had just briefly forgotten about it.

I did give out some of my money, only to then quibble with myself that I had given out too much. That made me feel guiltier. In total, I must have only handed out less than one American dollar worth of cash.