WALLS

Xi’An’s downtown is a walled city. It is the old section of the city that is surrounded like the fortress it once was. Outside the walls is a moat with beautiful parks to stroll through. I love it.

Tuesday 10/10, my Brazilian Angle surprised me with the command that we were going to go downtown and check out the wall. So, I went and collected my paycheck (which they hand out in CASH by the way; never felt so much like a crazy bag lady) and told my Brazilian Angel I was taking her out for dinner.

We had dinner at Dicos because we were craving freedom fries (love you Frenchoise). Dicos is like a cross between KFC and McD’s (as that’s all the fast food that’s here in Xi’An) with a little egg drop soup for good measure. Their fries rock almost as much as McD’s and they serve pulled pork sandwiches with buns made out of sticky rice. It’s not like faux bread made out of sticky rice, it’s actual sticky rice squished into patty form and slapped on either side of the pulled pork.

We ate quickly and headed up to Maky Bakery (it’s a THE chain of bakeries around here; very chic). At Maky’s, we got two little tarts a piece and then strolled up to the North gate. We walked along the Northwest side of the outside of the gate in the dark. It was amazing to be so serene and think about all the history the walls have seen. Xi’An is a buzzing, modern metropolis but at the wall, time has stopped. And, unlike the museums I’m so accustom to, the Chinese in Xi’An live with their history. I went up to the wall, touched it and no one cared. As I stood there, I thought about all the people who headed to Xi’An and came to this wall, wondering if it had all been in vain. The wall is impressive and built to keep things out (or in, depending on where you’re standing) so if they decide at the last minute that in the few years you’ve been traveling that relations have deteriorated too much, you’re shit out of luck. You’re not getting in. I thought about that moment where their breath must have gotten caught in their throat as they waited for the final answer.

Finally, we turned around, deciding that 17 kilometers was a bit more “constitutional” than we were interested in.

When we reached the North Gate, we found a fleet of musicians playing in the dark to a crowd of about 30 people. Singers were lined up behind the musicians, one at a time taking turns to sing traditional Chinese songs.

One of the musicians offered me a seat and then told me to bring my Brazilian Angel along. (Being heads taller than everyone here and infinitely more pale, I’m easily spotted as a foreigner, even in the dark.) We sat there in the makeshift orchestra pit, listening to the traditional Chinese songs.

It must have been the fever I’ve been battling coupled with the exhaustion of being out way too late but I slid into the best headspace. Between the thought of Silk Route traders seeking entrance to Xi’An and sitting there among the traditional Chinese pastime of song, it just felt timeless. Sitting there in the dark, illuminated only by the lights at the tiptop of the wall, I watched the traditional instruments being played by people contented simply to spend time in the company of others. There was no sense anyone was pressed to be anywhere. There were no cell phones ringing. No horns were blaring. People were just sitting and indulging in a moment that could last forever. It simply was.