Getting Close to the Chinese People
Nanjing, Jiangsu, China, July 16
On the way here, I found out how many Chinese you can cram into a railway car. The answer: a whole lot. You probably knew that already, and so did I, but it was different to see it demonstrated.
It's supposed to be six hours by train from Qufu to Nanjing (or actually from a town near Qufu, since Confucius's descendants were able to stop a railroad from actually going through town, since it would mess up the feng shui or something). Having spent longer periods than that in very close quarters during my military service, I thought a standing-room-only ticket would be no problem. I even considered going straight through to Shanghai (another four hours).
The train was pretty crowded when I first managed to fight my way aboard, and then more people got on at every stop. A few would get out, but it was obvious that almost everyone on the train had tickets through to Shanghai. For the first half hour or so, I could actually sit down in the space between two cars. After that, I was able to squat for an hour and a half or thereabouts. And then it really was standing room only, as in everybody standing because there was no room to do anything else. Eventually they stopped letting people on, so the railway apparently has some idea of the total sitting and standing capacity. I'd love to know what it was and how they calculated it.
All the Chinese passengers took it very well, and in fact seemed to become calmer and more subdued the more tightly packed they were. One of the perks of traveling by train in China is that every car has a water boiler so you can make tea or instant noodles. But when just about every square inch of floor space has a foot on it, it's not so easy to get to the water. No problem; people passed teakettles and noodle bowls the length of the car. Getting to the toilet (one per car only) was a bit more difficult, but people crammed themselves against the wall or climbed up on the backs of seats to let those in need get by. It was kind of inspiring, especially when everybody made heroic efforts to let a mother holding a screaming baby make a beeline for the toilet. Since the baby was wearing no diaper and had a hole cut in his pants to allow urination or defection (quite common in both rural and urban areas of China), we all had a really strong incentive to let him get by as fast as possible.
When we got to Nanjing two hours late, I was very glad not to be continuing to Shanghai. Nanjing's train station is right by the Yangtze, and the city seemed incredibly roomy and open, but then my senses recalibrated and it looked like other Chinese cities. I took the bus to Sun Yat-Sen's mausoleum, which like Ataturk's has a very nice hilltop location. The building with his statue has a big Nationalist Chinese star on the ceiling, just like on the Taiwan flag, which surprised me a bit. But I guess the PRC has retroactively converted Sun to communism (Mormon-fashion) and he can be allowed these little eccentricities.
It turns out there's a Nanjing recipe for duck, in addition to Peking duck. Maybe every Chinese capital gets a duck recipe, in which case I should have looked for Xian duck too. Nanjing duck is soaked in strong spicy brine and then sliced thinly by a knife that easily cuts through bone, gristle, and everything else. The slices on your plate look just like CAT-scan photos, and you have to spit out the bones. It's pretty good, but Peking duck is better. As an appetizer I had some very small birds on skewers. They cut off the beaks and feet, and you eat everything else. It tastes like very crunchy chicken.
For my next train trip (to Suzhou, where I will see some gardens and hopefully the Grand Canal) I was able to book a first-class seat. No more standing room for me, unless there's no other choice.
On the way here, I found out how many Chinese you can cram into a railway car. The answer: a whole lot. You probably knew that already, and so did I, but it was different to see it demonstrated.
It's supposed to be six hours by train from Qufu to Nanjing (or actually from a town near Qufu, since Confucius's descendants were able to stop a railroad from actually going through town, since it would mess up the feng shui or something). Having spent longer periods than that in very close quarters during my military service, I thought a standing-room-only ticket would be no problem. I even considered going straight through to Shanghai (another four hours).
The train was pretty crowded when I first managed to fight my way aboard, and then more people got on at every stop. A few would get out, but it was obvious that almost everyone on the train had tickets through to Shanghai. For the first half hour or so, I could actually sit down in the space between two cars. After that, I was able to squat for an hour and a half or thereabouts. And then it really was standing room only, as in everybody standing because there was no room to do anything else. Eventually they stopped letting people on, so the railway apparently has some idea of the total sitting and standing capacity. I'd love to know what it was and how they calculated it.
All the Chinese passengers took it very well, and in fact seemed to become calmer and more subdued the more tightly packed they were. One of the perks of traveling by train in China is that every car has a water boiler so you can make tea or instant noodles. But when just about every square inch of floor space has a foot on it, it's not so easy to get to the water. No problem; people passed teakettles and noodle bowls the length of the car. Getting to the toilet (one per car only) was a bit more difficult, but people crammed themselves against the wall or climbed up on the backs of seats to let those in need get by. It was kind of inspiring, especially when everybody made heroic efforts to let a mother holding a screaming baby make a beeline for the toilet. Since the baby was wearing no diaper and had a hole cut in his pants to allow urination or defection (quite common in both rural and urban areas of China), we all had a really strong incentive to let him get by as fast as possible.
When we got to Nanjing two hours late, I was very glad not to be continuing to Shanghai. Nanjing's train station is right by the Yangtze, and the city seemed incredibly roomy and open, but then my senses recalibrated and it looked like other Chinese cities. I took the bus to Sun Yat-Sen's mausoleum, which like Ataturk's has a very nice hilltop location. The building with his statue has a big Nationalist Chinese star on the ceiling, just like on the Taiwan flag, which surprised me a bit. But I guess the PRC has retroactively converted Sun to communism (Mormon-fashion) and he can be allowed these little eccentricities.
It turns out there's a Nanjing recipe for duck, in addition to Peking duck. Maybe every Chinese capital gets a duck recipe, in which case I should have looked for Xian duck too. Nanjing duck is soaked in strong spicy brine and then sliced thinly by a knife that easily cuts through bone, gristle, and everything else. The slices on your plate look just like CAT-scan photos, and you have to spit out the bones. It's pretty good, but Peking duck is better. As an appetizer I had some very small birds on skewers. They cut off the beaks and feet, and you eat everything else. It tastes like very crunchy chicken.
For my next train trip (to Suzhou, where I will see some gardens and hopefully the Grand Canal) I was able to book a first-class seat. No more standing room for me, unless there's no other choice.
posted by jeros | 1:08 PM
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