Hua Shan

There's somthing about Taoism that intuitively appeals to me. Mean beards, holy mountains and bad 80s kung-fu movie special effects. Being thoroughly tired of Xi'an, I decided to climb a Taoist holy mountain. Finding a bus wasn't hard, and the friendly conductor wasn't trying to rip me off. In fact, he was too busy defending himself from his wet-towel slinging friend to care. In the end the bus took 2 hours to fill up and leave.

Got there at 4 pm. Heat around 40 celcius. Humidity around 80. Found a restaurant with friendly people who decided to recommend what I should eat. It was good. Wrote a post card. Sent it. Ended up procrastinating at the Taoist temple at the foot of the mountain. Great place. Peaceful carp pond. Waft of fresh timber (the gate is being built). Bearded monks playing music inside the small shrines. The park entrance gate brought a change to the atmosphere: one-hundred-fucking-yuan! Wedged into a narrow canyon there was no escaping it.

The reason for this obscene fee soon became apparent : there's a stone road that leads most of the way up the mountain, then becomes transformed into a series of steps. Everywhere, small stores selling everything from People's Liberation Army overcoats, to Red Bull. Occasionally, a Taoist shrine, or a house.

I took my time, trying not to sweat too much. Didn't help. Soon, I was like the Chinese guys : topless and sweating more than before. Once the sun set, it didn't get much cooler : the path just got steeper. Never climbed up a mountain a) half-naked b) in the middle of the night. Sounds like a good start for an ero-goth movie... but alas, the Hairy Woman Cave Hostel was a disappointment. A surly owner with a surly daughter. I decided to move on.

Ended up at the North Peak hostel. A clean new dorm. 35 Yuan.

Woke up at 6 am, and headed up for a circular visit of the mountain's 4 other peaks. Clouds everywhere, and a heavy drizzle... my luck with mountains and sunrises hadn't changed. Still, the clouds occasionally blew apart, revealing cliffs and pines.

The Japanese school of landscape painting is largely a rip off of the Chinese and so it involves heavy stylisation of what's there. The Chinese on the other hand were only slightly distorting reality. These mountains truly are surreal.

The morning also brought hordes from the cable-car : chain-smoking middle aged men with their families. The other staple : university-age couples. I felt slightly out of place, in my crazy Taoist running up mountain drag. Still, had a chat with a few nice people.

Once it came to coming down the mountain, the clouds cleared... well, until I descended to the sweltering valley below. Made it back to my favourite restaurant for lunch, hopped on the first best bus (which had a DVD of a kick-arse Jet Li film), got to Xi'an's suburban bus station, not knowing where I was. Taking a bus wasn't hard (they have maps pasted on the windows). Got to the station, wrote what I wanted on a piece of paper. Got what I wanted : 21:30 train to Pingyao. Bye bye Xi'an.