Nanjing is one of the 'ancient capitals' of China: it was the capital during the short-lived Republic (Post Qing Dynasty/1912- CCP's success in the Civil War/1949). It's also the site of one of Japan's war crimes in WWII, the massacre of Nanjing, in which 300,000 Chinese were raped, tortured and slaughtered within the space of a few weeks.
It was reading Iris Chang's 'The Rape of Nanking' that prompted me (E) to want to visit.
It's about an hour and a half north of Shanghai by high-speed train.
It was reading Iris Chang's 'The Rape of Nanking' that prompted me (E) to want to visit.
It's about an hour and a half north of Shanghai by high-speed train.
Purple Mountain (J)
On the map, it looks hard to get lost on Purple Mountain. Touristy things and ‘scenic spots’ (a favourite Chinese-English term for almost anything touristy) are scattered everywhere. A cable car and apparently shuttle buses run right up to the summit all day.
Naturally it didn’t work like that in practise. After a tense taxi drive that dropped us in what looked a little like the middle of nowhere, we finally found the western base of the mountain and a comforting car park full of tour buses. Beyond this was the cable car.
Which was broken.
Purple Mountain is, to be fair, really more like Purple Large Hill. At only 450m to the summit, it can’t pose much of a challenge for real trekkers. But we aren’t real trekkers. We aren’t even trekkers. And we didn’t have any snacks with us, which for us is obviously another big challenge. So without quite knowing how or why, we committed to ascending the western shoulder of the mountain all the way to the summit. At first the road was relatively shallow, if winding; and every now and again a comfortable-looking taxi would zip past you, beeping its horn to get other walkers out the way. After an hour like this the path began to steepen, and there was snow on the trees. It was hard going by this point, but we called on all our reserves of determination and strength, and finally made it to the summit. We conquered Purple Mountain!
So it’s not really that much of an achievement, but still. Since this region of China is so flat there were still some great views from the top (despite the mist), and the snow made you feel like you were in a different country altogether. Then there was the silence – above all, no sound of cars or car horns, which is a rare thing in China!
Purple Mountain has two major ‘sides’: the touristy side, which is mostly in the Southern foothills and contains the main tourist attractions; and the ‘other’ side ascending from the west using the theoretically operational cable car. We’d naively chosen the ‘other side’, but in the end it worked out really well. It was peaceful, relatively empty, and we could sidle along at our own pace. And it felt great to come down the mountain into the tourist spots, already having that accomplishment for the morning behind us.
Sun-Yat Sen’s memorial was also stunning, particularly the view from the highest staircase. But Chinese tourist spots have a bit of a thing for sameness, and this was no exception. Everywhere you go, there’s overpriced food (an obligatory KFC and a Starbucks too) and tat that’s so tatty it makes English tat look quality. And the tat isn’t even location-specific: there's the same pastel-coloured barking dog toys everywhere. With all that said, we saw Sun-Yat Sen’s Memorial Hall and the Ming tomb in the foothills, and both were interesting enough. But it was also nice to have experienced the peace and quiet of the mountain, tat-free, for a while first.
On the map, it looks hard to get lost on Purple Mountain. Touristy things and ‘scenic spots’ (a favourite Chinese-English term for almost anything touristy) are scattered everywhere. A cable car and apparently shuttle buses run right up to the summit all day.
Naturally it didn’t work like that in practise. After a tense taxi drive that dropped us in what looked a little like the middle of nowhere, we finally found the western base of the mountain and a comforting car park full of tour buses. Beyond this was the cable car.
Which was broken.
Purple Mountain is, to be fair, really more like Purple Large Hill. At only 450m to the summit, it can’t pose much of a challenge for real trekkers. But we aren’t real trekkers. We aren’t even trekkers. And we didn’t have any snacks with us, which for us is obviously another big challenge. So without quite knowing how or why, we committed to ascending the western shoulder of the mountain all the way to the summit. At first the road was relatively shallow, if winding; and every now and again a comfortable-looking taxi would zip past you, beeping its horn to get other walkers out the way. After an hour like this the path began to steepen, and there was snow on the trees. It was hard going by this point, but we called on all our reserves of determination and strength, and finally made it to the summit. We conquered Purple Mountain!
So it’s not really that much of an achievement, but still. Since this region of China is so flat there were still some great views from the top (despite the mist), and the snow made you feel like you were in a different country altogether. Then there was the silence – above all, no sound of cars or car horns, which is a rare thing in China!
Purple Mountain has two major ‘sides’: the touristy side, which is mostly in the Southern foothills and contains the main tourist attractions; and the ‘other’ side ascending from the west using the theoretically operational cable car. We’d naively chosen the ‘other side’, but in the end it worked out really well. It was peaceful, relatively empty, and we could sidle along at our own pace. And it felt great to come down the mountain into the tourist spots, already having that accomplishment for the morning behind us.
Sun-Yat Sen’s memorial was also stunning, particularly the view from the highest staircase. But Chinese tourist spots have a bit of a thing for sameness, and this was no exception. Everywhere you go, there’s overpriced food (an obligatory KFC and a Starbucks too) and tat that’s so tatty it makes English tat look quality. And the tat isn’t even location-specific: there's the same pastel-coloured barking dog toys everywhere. With all that said, we saw Sun-Yat Sen’s Memorial Hall and the Ming tomb in the foothills, and both were interesting enough. But it was also nice to have experienced the peace and quiet of the mountain, tat-free, for a while first.
Hot Springs (E)
Tangshan is a mountaneous area on the eastern outskirts of Nanjing. It's famous for it's natural hot springs: Chiang Kai-shek (the leader of the short-lived Republic) built a private villa for himself and his wife to relax here. Hot springs are a 'traditional' Chinese lesiure activity, and one that's usually associated with luxury.
James was underwhelmed by the hot springs in Iceland, and was pretty sceptical as to whether it was worth the detour. The £18 entry fee made it the most expensive day-trip we'd had in China (edged above the World Financial Tower by the sheer fact that we did that on J's birthday, so he got in free)... But we both enjoyed it immensely. Relaxing in the 40-degree water, surrounded by trees and mountains, was exactly what we needed after Purple Mountain.
The springs we went to is aimed at business men and their clients -- a bit cheaper than the ones aimed at polo-shirts-and-pearls Americans. China is still very much a wine-and-dine society: there are far more social rules and superstitions tied to gift-giving, drinking alcohol, paying bills, etc, than there are at home. In the west, you may read a bit about Xi Jinping's 'crackdown' on corruption, but it's hard to really appreciate how different (and how deep) these cultural habits go. Whilst my firm at home, as all of them do, takes clients to sporting events and fancy dinners once in a while, there's hefty regulation around this sort of thing. Here, despite Xi's 'crackdown', there's far more glamour (and superstition) in business. In China, looking successful, and living as a sucessful person would, has more value and meaning than in the UK. This all links, somewhat tangentially, to the nebulous concepts of 'face' and guanxi.
...It was very strange for us to see groups of middle aged men hanging out in tight bright swim shorts, jade pendants and gold rings still on, squinting through their steamed-up glasses at their iphone 6+s. It was a sight that you'd just never see in England.
Tangshan is a mountaneous area on the eastern outskirts of Nanjing. It's famous for it's natural hot springs: Chiang Kai-shek (the leader of the short-lived Republic) built a private villa for himself and his wife to relax here. Hot springs are a 'traditional' Chinese lesiure activity, and one that's usually associated with luxury.
James was underwhelmed by the hot springs in Iceland, and was pretty sceptical as to whether it was worth the detour. The £18 entry fee made it the most expensive day-trip we'd had in China (edged above the World Financial Tower by the sheer fact that we did that on J's birthday, so he got in free)... But we both enjoyed it immensely. Relaxing in the 40-degree water, surrounded by trees and mountains, was exactly what we needed after Purple Mountain.
The springs we went to is aimed at business men and their clients -- a bit cheaper than the ones aimed at polo-shirts-and-pearls Americans. China is still very much a wine-and-dine society: there are far more social rules and superstitions tied to gift-giving, drinking alcohol, paying bills, etc, than there are at home. In the west, you may read a bit about Xi Jinping's 'crackdown' on corruption, but it's hard to really appreciate how different (and how deep) these cultural habits go. Whilst my firm at home, as all of them do, takes clients to sporting events and fancy dinners once in a while, there's hefty regulation around this sort of thing. Here, despite Xi's 'crackdown', there's far more glamour (and superstition) in business. In China, looking successful, and living as a sucessful person would, has more value and meaning than in the UK. This all links, somewhat tangentially, to the nebulous concepts of 'face' and guanxi.
...It was very strange for us to see groups of middle aged men hanging out in tight bright swim shorts, jade pendants and gold rings still on, squinting through their steamed-up glasses at their iphone 6+s. It was a sight that you'd just never see in England.
We bathed in coconut milk, green tea, coffee, various herbs and flowers, and just 'regular' hot spring water. We napped and read on hot Roman-style slates. We drank lots of free tea. We watched the sun set and the sky go purple, and relished the novelty of being totally completely warm (there's no heating in Southern China).
There were over 50 different pools, most of which we had to ourselves -- the waiguoren factor contributed. Young guests and single-sex groups tended to spot us, mutter 'laowai', giggle awkwardly, and walk to another pool. The elderly were less fazed at sitting in the same water as us.
The site had beautiful showers, pyjama-type things, slippers, hair-dryers, with a range of lotions and potions to use. Getting dressed to head back to the city was luxurious (hindered a bit by how neither of us know what the characters on the bottles meant - who knows what I washed my hair with). I feel a bit guilty for using so many towels.
James reports that there was only one other man in the men's facilities -- the ladies were (predictably) busier. The showers had gold gauze-type stuff in the place of a shower curtain, which was fine - communal showers don't bother me. I'm way, way more concerned about washing my hair than what strangers think of my bum (and I mean that in a literal, i'm-obsessive-about-washing-my-hair way). But a couple of women did just walk over to gawp at my naked self. It's amusing. I wonder what they went home to tell their families/friends. 'White girls have two bum-cheeks'?
At the same time: it is interesting to see just how different beauty standards are. Body hair is infinitely more prevalent in China - even the selfie-taking winged-eyeliner-clad giggling girls exposed their thick armpit hair without any self-consciousness.
There were over 50 different pools, most of which we had to ourselves -- the waiguoren factor contributed. Young guests and single-sex groups tended to spot us, mutter 'laowai', giggle awkwardly, and walk to another pool. The elderly were less fazed at sitting in the same water as us.
The site had beautiful showers, pyjama-type things, slippers, hair-dryers, with a range of lotions and potions to use. Getting dressed to head back to the city was luxurious (hindered a bit by how neither of us know what the characters on the bottles meant - who knows what I washed my hair with). I feel a bit guilty for using so many towels.
James reports that there was only one other man in the men's facilities -- the ladies were (predictably) busier. The showers had gold gauze-type stuff in the place of a shower curtain, which was fine - communal showers don't bother me. I'm way, way more concerned about washing my hair than what strangers think of my bum (and I mean that in a literal, i'm-obsessive-about-washing-my-hair way). But a couple of women did just walk over to gawp at my naked self. It's amusing. I wonder what they went home to tell their families/friends. 'White girls have two bum-cheeks'?
At the same time: it is interesting to see just how different beauty standards are. Body hair is infinitely more prevalent in China - even the selfie-taking winged-eyeliner-clad giggling girls exposed their thick armpit hair without any self-consciousness.
The Nanjing Massacre Memorial Hall (J)
The history of Nanjing, and specifically the massacre there by the Japanese in 1937, was always one of our main reasons for seeing Nanjing. Especially since Emma read The Rape of Nanjing, by Iris Chang. But since she’s handed it over to me to read now, I’ll say a little about the massacre, the exhibition, and the book.
China and Japan had been at war, on and off, for many years pre-1937. At the beginning of that year Japan invaded Shanghai and, after a drawn out battle, captured the city and rolled on towards Nanjing, the then capital city of China. There was a lengthy and completely indiscriminate aerial bombardment (The Chinese army in Nanjing hadn’t a single plane of their own for defence), followed by an invasion. Amazingly, the Chinese army, which outnumbered the Japanese by two to one, collapsed in only four days. What followed was an appalling six-week massacre in which hundreds of thousands of people were murdered, and tens of thousands of women raped. Japanese troops looted the city, raped at will, and gunned down, bayonetted, and set fire to civilians without provocation. Any able-bodied man was assumed to be an ex-soldier; all these were rounded up, taken to the outskirts of the city and machine-gunned.
If you want to know more about just how barbaric this massacre was, Iris Chang’s book is informative but depressing. Almost every aspect of the events presents a spectacle of the worst traits of institutions, and humanity itself. The atrocities committed by Japanese troops – in which the whole army, the whole chain of command, was complicit – must be some of the worst in history. But on top of that, almost everyone failed the people of Nanjing. The Chinese generals and government put up a hack-job defence that often made things worse (for example, by employing a scorched-earth policy around the city, forcing tens of thousands more civilians to flee within the walls as their own government burned their homes). Later, Chang Kai-Shek ordered a senseless withdrawal from the city which caused even more chaos. Almost everyone in positions of authority fled as soon as they could, and when opportunity presented itself Chinese officers similarly abandoned their troops without hesitation. Moments of heroism or resistance by the captured Chinese, or of remorse by Japanese troops, are spectacularly few. Whole regiments who were unable to flee the city simply waited to be captured.
At the same time, the behaviour of the Japanese simply defies belief. Unlike other executions, there seems to be no explanation at all for the scale of the suffering they caused. Wholesale rape and massacre seemed to be a result of nothing more than sadism, or even boredom.
The Memorial Museum presented all this information and more in an engaging and horrifying way. For once, English captions were excellent. The grounds were also very tastefully and solemnly arranged. It felt like a fitting way to think about the massacre, whilst also acknowledging its closeness in history and the horror it must still incite for some. Indeed some of the Chinese tourists seemed genuinely shocked and sickened, even to the point of tears, by the information they were receiving. Clearly the massacre is still an open wound on the city, not yet consigned to history.
The history of Nanjing, and specifically the massacre there by the Japanese in 1937, was always one of our main reasons for seeing Nanjing. Especially since Emma read The Rape of Nanjing, by Iris Chang. But since she’s handed it over to me to read now, I’ll say a little about the massacre, the exhibition, and the book.
China and Japan had been at war, on and off, for many years pre-1937. At the beginning of that year Japan invaded Shanghai and, after a drawn out battle, captured the city and rolled on towards Nanjing, the then capital city of China. There was a lengthy and completely indiscriminate aerial bombardment (The Chinese army in Nanjing hadn’t a single plane of their own for defence), followed by an invasion. Amazingly, the Chinese army, which outnumbered the Japanese by two to one, collapsed in only four days. What followed was an appalling six-week massacre in which hundreds of thousands of people were murdered, and tens of thousands of women raped. Japanese troops looted the city, raped at will, and gunned down, bayonetted, and set fire to civilians without provocation. Any able-bodied man was assumed to be an ex-soldier; all these were rounded up, taken to the outskirts of the city and machine-gunned.
If you want to know more about just how barbaric this massacre was, Iris Chang’s book is informative but depressing. Almost every aspect of the events presents a spectacle of the worst traits of institutions, and humanity itself. The atrocities committed by Japanese troops – in which the whole army, the whole chain of command, was complicit – must be some of the worst in history. But on top of that, almost everyone failed the people of Nanjing. The Chinese generals and government put up a hack-job defence that often made things worse (for example, by employing a scorched-earth policy around the city, forcing tens of thousands more civilians to flee within the walls as their own government burned their homes). Later, Chang Kai-Shek ordered a senseless withdrawal from the city which caused even more chaos. Almost everyone in positions of authority fled as soon as they could, and when opportunity presented itself Chinese officers similarly abandoned their troops without hesitation. Moments of heroism or resistance by the captured Chinese, or of remorse by Japanese troops, are spectacularly few. Whole regiments who were unable to flee the city simply waited to be captured.
At the same time, the behaviour of the Japanese simply defies belief. Unlike other executions, there seems to be no explanation at all for the scale of the suffering they caused. Wholesale rape and massacre seemed to be a result of nothing more than sadism, or even boredom.
The Memorial Museum presented all this information and more in an engaging and horrifying way. For once, English captions were excellent. The grounds were also very tastefully and solemnly arranged. It felt like a fitting way to think about the massacre, whilst also acknowledging its closeness in history and the horror it must still incite for some. Indeed some of the Chinese tourists seemed genuinely shocked and sickened, even to the point of tears, by the information they were receiving. Clearly the massacre is still an open wound on the city, not yet consigned to history.
Food (E)
Some people have noted that we/Emma speaks about food in China a lot -- this is in part because we are total gluttons and Emma likes cooking, but it is more because food here is so varied and different that something as mundane as 'finding breakfast' is an adventure in it's own right.
The Chinese strongly believe that when you are somewhere, you should eat the local food. But in China, this doesn't mean "we're in Spain, we shouldn't go to an Italian restaurant", it means "we're in City X, in Province Y, this area produces a lot of Z, so we should eat Z in a manner unique to this city". Food is still immensely regional, due, I think, to how internal immigration and inter-city travel is still a relatively new phenomenon. You have to remember that this country has only been speaking the same language for half a century, it covers ranges of climates, has a range of ethnicities, and takes over 5 hours to fly across by plane. Every city has different ways of cooking the same ingredients - and whilst we're hardly culinary experts, there are pronounced differences in what foods you can buy, and what restaurants serve, in each city.
The food culture is also different in that chains, especially foreign-owned (KFC is everywhere) ones, are trusted substantially more than individual eateries. Food, health and safety laws are still pretty minimial here -- chains have reliable quality and hygenine standards, with their government ratings obviously displayed and their staff in clean uniforms.
Generally, 'foreign food' is just bumped together into a mass of slightly odd combinations: they like to eat tiny portions of herb-less spaghetti bolognaise with fried eggs, fruit salad pizza is a staple offering, and dairy products are always a bit confused. Tiramisu is made with cream, not mascapone. Coffee is still a luxury item, and is priced as such...even though Starbucks is as ubiquitious as it is at home.
In Shanghai, the food is sweet and sticky. Local specialties include youtiao (fried dough sticks, a bit doughnut like in texture, that you eat for breakfast), xiaolongbao (more specifically, these are from Nanxiang a north-west suburb), and various jaozi (dumplings). In Beijing, it's salty, there's Beijing bbq-ed duck, soybean noodles, and mutton hot pot.
Nanjing is famous for duck, and all parts of duck: roasted duck, salted duck, duck's blood (cubes of it, in soup), duck's feet.. The food isn't spicy. We also found that there was a lot of fish versus Shanghai, which is odd given Shanghai is technically on the sea (the name 'Shanghai' literally means 'on the sea'...).
Our hotel served breakfast for 15y (£1.50), and we went for this on our first morning. There was hot red tea, egg fried rice (literally like you'd get from a takeaway at home, the first time we've seen that..), youtiao, various baozi (bread-like steamed buns, generally with a meat/veg filling), steamed dumplings filled with sticky, glutinous rice, and corn-on-the-cob. It was fair enough.
Two notable meals include 'Nanjing Impressions' and 'Neolithic BBQ'.
Neolithic BBQ is a bit gimicky. We suspect it's linked with that 'caveman diet' trend, but it was a great meal. You order a selection of thin strips of raw meat, veg, tofu and potato - as you would for a hot pot -- and then season them, and plop them on the little bbq on your table until they're done. The range of mini-bqqs gave the place a fantastic smell, and there was a range of spices and sauces to try out. You're supposed to then wrap your goodies in lettuce leaves, like a carb-free fajita, but we didn't really bother with this...
We had potato smileys. It was great. James is a bit suspect of (in his words) 'paying to cook our own dinner', but it was relatively cheap (about £15 for both of us), given the amount of meat we had.
Nanjing Impressions is a tourist-driven mid-market chain, with the staff all clad in traditional costume and the restaurant decked out in dark wooden old-style tables and benches, red lanterns, etc. Our meal here was great. We had roasted duck, duck dumplings, a big dome of steamed glutinous rice spiked with wedges of pork, seasonal greens, local-style soup noodles, and locally-grown green tea. It managed to avoid being even slightly tacky, and was great. We dabao-ed our leftovers (distinctly common, given that it's rude to finish your meal here, and the style of ordering - getting a range of dishes and sharing - means that there's generally more food than people..), which James turned into a great fried-rice when we got home.
Some people have noted that we/Emma speaks about food in China a lot -- this is in part because we are total gluttons and Emma likes cooking, but it is more because food here is so varied and different that something as mundane as 'finding breakfast' is an adventure in it's own right.
The Chinese strongly believe that when you are somewhere, you should eat the local food. But in China, this doesn't mean "we're in Spain, we shouldn't go to an Italian restaurant", it means "we're in City X, in Province Y, this area produces a lot of Z, so we should eat Z in a manner unique to this city". Food is still immensely regional, due, I think, to how internal immigration and inter-city travel is still a relatively new phenomenon. You have to remember that this country has only been speaking the same language for half a century, it covers ranges of climates, has a range of ethnicities, and takes over 5 hours to fly across by plane. Every city has different ways of cooking the same ingredients - and whilst we're hardly culinary experts, there are pronounced differences in what foods you can buy, and what restaurants serve, in each city.
The food culture is also different in that chains, especially foreign-owned (KFC is everywhere) ones, are trusted substantially more than individual eateries. Food, health and safety laws are still pretty minimial here -- chains have reliable quality and hygenine standards, with their government ratings obviously displayed and their staff in clean uniforms.
Generally, 'foreign food' is just bumped together into a mass of slightly odd combinations: they like to eat tiny portions of herb-less spaghetti bolognaise with fried eggs, fruit salad pizza is a staple offering, and dairy products are always a bit confused. Tiramisu is made with cream, not mascapone. Coffee is still a luxury item, and is priced as such...even though Starbucks is as ubiquitious as it is at home.
In Shanghai, the food is sweet and sticky. Local specialties include youtiao (fried dough sticks, a bit doughnut like in texture, that you eat for breakfast), xiaolongbao (more specifically, these are from Nanxiang a north-west suburb), and various jaozi (dumplings). In Beijing, it's salty, there's Beijing bbq-ed duck, soybean noodles, and mutton hot pot.
Nanjing is famous for duck, and all parts of duck: roasted duck, salted duck, duck's blood (cubes of it, in soup), duck's feet.. The food isn't spicy. We also found that there was a lot of fish versus Shanghai, which is odd given Shanghai is technically on the sea (the name 'Shanghai' literally means 'on the sea'...).
Our hotel served breakfast for 15y (£1.50), and we went for this on our first morning. There was hot red tea, egg fried rice (literally like you'd get from a takeaway at home, the first time we've seen that..), youtiao, various baozi (bread-like steamed buns, generally with a meat/veg filling), steamed dumplings filled with sticky, glutinous rice, and corn-on-the-cob. It was fair enough.
Two notable meals include 'Nanjing Impressions' and 'Neolithic BBQ'.
Neolithic BBQ is a bit gimicky. We suspect it's linked with that 'caveman diet' trend, but it was a great meal. You order a selection of thin strips of raw meat, veg, tofu and potato - as you would for a hot pot -- and then season them, and plop them on the little bbq on your table until they're done. The range of mini-bqqs gave the place a fantastic smell, and there was a range of spices and sauces to try out. You're supposed to then wrap your goodies in lettuce leaves, like a carb-free fajita, but we didn't really bother with this...
We had potato smileys. It was great. James is a bit suspect of (in his words) 'paying to cook our own dinner', but it was relatively cheap (about £15 for both of us), given the amount of meat we had.
Nanjing Impressions is a tourist-driven mid-market chain, with the staff all clad in traditional costume and the restaurant decked out in dark wooden old-style tables and benches, red lanterns, etc. Our meal here was great. We had roasted duck, duck dumplings, a big dome of steamed glutinous rice spiked with wedges of pork, seasonal greens, local-style soup noodles, and locally-grown green tea. It managed to avoid being even slightly tacky, and was great. We dabao-ed our leftovers (distinctly common, given that it's rude to finish your meal here, and the style of ordering - getting a range of dishes and sharing - means that there's generally more food than people..), which James turned into a great fried-rice when we got home.