“The most dreadful thing about celebrating a New Year is the certainty that you did the same thing not two months ago. Time has no right speeding along as it does.” – Old Sean
New Year Blues
That’s the show, the end of another decade.
Thanks 2019, it’s been real swell. Good times.
To celebrate the oncoming bracing of a new decade, I joined a bunch of foreigners for some last minute celebrations as time entered that weird state of ethereal that exists between the end of Christmas and the beginning of New Year.
My school did a children’s play, where I coaxed kids to sing about ducks and was given cat ears and a tail to help out with the show. The cat ears managed to stick around for a bit, thanks to my height being greater than your average kindergartner. The tail was immediately pulled off my belt by passing children immediately, which seemed about right.
Other nights were spent playing DnD and, in an interesting throwback, a series of card-oriented board games based on the website The Oatmeal. Back when I was in middle school, The Oatmeal was a… well, I guess comedy is a close word. A comedy website.
Anyway, turns out they’ve produced certain card and board games involving exploding kittens and demented bear heads.
Steady Moveout
The rest of my time was spent slowly whittling down everything I own in my apartment. I’ve accumulated some odd and ends and gradually sold all of it off to friends and other locals. A singer at the Bulldog BBQ invited me to dinner while dropping off a rice cooker on Christmas Eve.
I’m not actually moving out of Hohhot yet, but I’ve learned that things often shift after Chinese New Year. I’m setting myself up for a hasty exit if there are Visa problems or my company makes things difficult for me.
For New Year’s itself, I joined some folks on a frigid bar crawl, forcibly skipping three pubs as they were so packed.
Hohhot is not what I call a busy city. I was amazed there were enough people around to actually pack a bar. But regardless, when we did have a place to sit, there was beer, sparklers and a chili dog.
Heading to Datong
The following day, I found joined my friend Emily for a trip to Datong. I’d heard there are famous Buddhist grottos located here. They’re supposedly amazing, ancient caverns artfully restored with carved, weathered and painted figures. I wanted to see them, so we booked a couple of tickets and rode the three hour train to the city.
First of all, the train was… gah. No.
Salesmen sponsored by the railway constantly shouted, selling goods that I wouldn’t buy on my drunkest night. The seats were jammed packed, the trains overbooked (so legions were standing) and even in the event of an empty seat, my body didn’t fit. My shoulders spilled out the sides and the headrest lodged itself vengefully between my shoulder blades.
I’m not an especially large man, but I don’t fit well in Chinese transportation.
A Day in Datong
In Datong, we grabbed a quick meal at McDonalds before rushing to see the grottos. According to my friend Aleks in Hohhot, the grottos would be slammed with tourists.
But a powerful chill had joined us. Our every breath was a cloud obscuring vision and the air was so cold it popped with static from our clothes. Even my three layers couldn’t fend off the chill.
But it was very much worth it. We had the entire Buddhist Grottos of Datong nearly to ourselves.
The grottos are fantastic. They’re ancient caves hollowed into the side of a dull brown mountain, weathered stone harsh on a setting sun.
The Buddha statues, of which there are thousands, are in various states of erosion. Those closest to the elements are faded to the point of skeletal, looking like peaceful, craggy mummies gazing off into the distance.
The statues deeper in are enormous, great monolith creatures seated in their vigil and meditations. Some statues are life sized, others are miniature and numerous. And some tower so large, it’s astounding even a mountain can contain them. All statues, great and small are bulleted with odd, round holes, which are actually wooden pegs, expertly chiseled into the statues façade in order to hold rotting stones together.
The coolest of the caverns are laced with ancient paint.
Supposedly, in the ancient past, many of the statues were gilded with painted gold, but opportunists stripped these icons to bare stone. Most of the smaller, hand-sized Buddha statues were not commissioned by the monasteries, but rather, donated by exceptionally wealthy locals in a show of piety.
The truly grand caverns with baffling complexity, carvings and shadows of paint are off-limits to photography, as flashes may damage the delicate preservations. However, the stonework near cave entrances, already strafed by sunlight and the elements are great photo opportunities.
Greatest and oddest of all are the caves that people can walk in. Hordes of pigeons are guests in the caverns, and though most are shooed out periodically, the intrepid vermin always flutter back in. Their coos echo in every tunnel, making a strange, high-pitched rumble I’ve not heard before.
Elsewhere in Datong
Aside from the grottos, there was also a nice little museum, which unfortunately didn’t have enough English for me to enjoy and a large temple roosting on a frozen lake.
Slim snow graced the ice and the occasional pagoda speared up across the temple grounds. There were also frozen waterways, large empty grounds and a metal tree surrounded by statues, with red wishes strung in the branches professing the usual good luck and other platitudes.
The train ride back home was far more welcome, as the car was empty and I was allowed to snooze on the way back.
Now, I’m just counting down the days until Spring Festival. (Only nine days remain).
I need to finish moving out of my apartment within the next two days, at which point I’ll be moving into a hotel for the week. I’ve passed along most of my stuff to friends to better handle the move. I’m hoping to find a far nicer apartment when I return to Hohhot.
Until the next trip,
Best regards and excellent trails,
Old Sean
Written January 2nd, 2020
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Ten years ago, I abandoned my military surplus store backpack for a Farpoint 40 Osprey Travel Pack. I’ve never replaced my bag since. The backpack has been with me around the world, through my departing Beijing and onwards through trips across Europe and South America. I have nothing but praise for Osprey Products.
