Terracotta Wonders

Although it is a true spectacle on its own, The Terracotta Army is just one part of what is possibly the world’s greatest mausoleum, built over a 20 sq km area and centred around a 300 metre high burial mound turned into an eternal pleasure palace built to protect and entertain emperor Qin Shi Huang in his eternal afterlife. We were already amazed by how unique each member of the huge army was at the time we visited it, but, having watched a documentary on the army recently, the distinct personality evident in each of the army’s men is truly brought home.

Hear here! The warriors’ unique ears.

Scientific studies using digitised 3D models of all of the warriors show that, so far as can be seen, no two are the same. No two heads, no two faces, even the ears are unique to the warrior. This makes what is already an amazing piece of work into a truly fascinating, almost unique, wonder of the ancient world. A vast undertaking, the scale and variety of which would be difficult to replicate even today. While all of the ancient world’s other wonder builders were focused on scale, ingenuity and distinction were important to Qin Shi Huang. All this and it was built in less than 37 years under the oversight of the greatest leader in Chinese History, the same man who first united China under his own rule and built the original great wall of China. A leader unequalled in his power.

Unfortunately there is a darker side: To making an army as huge as this Emperor Huang needed a workforce capable of inhuman levels of production. He used inhumane methods of motivation, torture and punishment to attain this.  Prisoners and conquered civilians were used as slave labour, working hours on end. Perfection was required and imperfection was met with savage punishment such as maiming, castration and even execution. If a worker failed to attain the high standards required, all of those in his work group would have to either inform on him or be tortured and possibly killed along with him.

The workers who survived this brutal regime were then slain to keep the location and structure of the mausoleum secret from those who may want to disturb Qin Shi Huang’s eternally pleasurable rest.

“MANTA RAY!!!”

Our first night at Manta Ray Resort and we’re woken up early by a sound like rumbling thunder. Fortunately there isn’t a cloud in the sky and no spot of rain to be seen. What there is to be seen is the manta rays drifting gracefully through the aquamarine blue waters of the pacific like. It seems we’re in luck as the coy little buggers haven’t been seen for six nights yet we barely have to wait any time.

Ten minutes later and we’re down at the dive shop, eyes barely rid of sleepy goop, preparing ourselves eagerly to jump in to the deep blue sea in search of manta rays. Another ten minutes and a cramped boat has taken us to the manta rays’ favourite channel. We strap kit on and are over the side into the deep water at least I thought WE were. I look around and Mahlah is nowhere to be seen. Neither, for that matter, are the rest of the boat’s occupants, or the boat itself. First thing I think is that I’m stranded. In retrospect it turns out that, because so many people wanted to go on the trip our savvy staff overloaded the boat and then threw the undesirables (men) overboard at the earliest stage possible, damn pirates.

So I’m swimming desperately against the current, hoping that Mahlah is okay (she was fine, finding it much easier than me actually) and trying to find a Manta. We’ve all been told to put our hands up in the air if we see one so people are desperately swimming toward anywhere where there looks to be such a sign. After a few false alarms I’m beginning to tire and give up hope of seeing a manta … but then the dive leader’s hand goes up nearby. I swim full stroke toward it and am rewarded with a beautiful site.

It starts out as a black shape moving against the blue. As I get closer to it, overtaking other swimmers in the hustle and bustle of the chase, it becomes more clear. Shaped a little like a Chinese kite but much smoother, with an otherworldly beauty. It makes sudden agile with the slightest flip of its broad, slick fins and swims, gaping mouthed, without any apparent effort. Up above me and my co-snorkelers are swimming full-stroke to keep up with what seems to be a casual swim for our manta buddy. After watching the dive leader dive under a couple of times for a closer view I get up the courage to do the same and am rewarded with a clearer view of the black, slick, flipper-like skin of the beast. Once, when the dive leader scares it, the manta turns suddenly in my direction and I see its huge white mouth with two antenae-like limbs on either side leading back into the gaping hole. Fortunately I’m on the surface with it a few feet below me at this point. I don’t know what happens if you get swallowed by a krill-eating manta ray, they have no teeth in its constantly gaping mouth but I’m sure it’s still not a pleasant experience.

Having not ben swallowed by the beast, it’s back to dry land after everyone, Mahlah included, has been registered. We’ve both had good sitings, Mahlah had two! and we don’t have to spend the rest of our holiday hoping that a manta pops his head up nearby. Happy days!

The Terracotta Army – Fighters for a dead emperor

I stand on a raised platform and stare, excitement raising the hairs on my arms. Below me the best part of a legion of six thousand warriors stare back, thousands of unique faces bear frowns of readiness,  grimaces of courage and stares of certainty. Every one of them stands ready to do battle for their ruler, every one of them seems prepared to risk life and limb at a command, but of course not one of them ever will. For this is the great Terracotta Army.

It stands in peace in the hills above Xi’an, hopefully having survived it’s greatest tribulations at the hands of a Communist regime obsessed with cultural vandalism. Yet the still, silent soldiers must have had some defence on their side because the cultural revolution that destroyed so much of China’s Imperial history left this Emperor’s warriors relatively in tact for the most part. Something for which I am extremely grateful after many dissapointing historical letdowns in the country.

It’s not so much the scale of the work that strikes me, though this has to be seen to be properly appreciated, it’s the artistic variety and finesse. So many wonders and monuments are great in their scale; from the Army’s fellow Chinese wonder, the Great Wall, to the Pyramids of Giza to the Colossus of Rhodes. What makes this wonder so interesting to me is the level of detail and craftsmanship exibited by the army. Each man is different to his neighbours, set apart from those in front, behind and to each side by his hairstyle, the fall of his cape or even just the set of his brow. Generals stand proud in their finery while cavalrymen control their horses and lowly soldiers look to their leaders for direction. Millenia ago  each man bore a weapon wih which to defend their dead emperor in the afterlife, but these have long since rotted.

As well as providing a breathtaking sight, or rather three breathtaking sites in three enclosed excavation pits, this army also provides an insight into the mind of Emperor Qin Chi Huang, the undeniably great leader whose soul they guard in eternity. This is the man who united China under his own rule, the man who built more of the Great Wall than any other and the man who China is still named after. He is a man of undeniably strong drive, but what kind of man is driven to build a wall along one entire border of his empire? What drives a man to bury himself in a fortified tomb with a fearful army to command in the afterlife?

Terror, that’s what. Emperor Qin was a man driven by fear, he lived his life behind walls or commanding armys of unprecedented size safely from the rear. Whateverone may say about this, it meant he died an old man, and when he did he was prepared. He had an entire city of death built, with our terracotta friends standing guard nearby. Here his body would be well defended, but even this didn’t quell his fear of his enemies. So scared was he of being discovered and exhumed by his enemies that every man who worked on his tomb and his army, as well as everone who saw it or planned it, were put to death to keep its whereabouts a secret. This obviously worked for the most part as the majority od the tomb and army stayed hidden and in tact until well into the twentieth century, when it was dug up, marvelled at, smashed up a bit for good measure (thanks Mao) and finally recognised as a wonder of the world.

Several decades later, enter us after a morning of queuing, finding the right bus and brushing off touts and we are back at the beggining of this post with me staring at the unmoving warriors as they stand guard over their deceased ruler. Pit 1 is by far the most impressive and recogniseable, having been displayed in countless textbooks and guides. Pit 2 is smaller but still impressive, full of bowmen and high ranking officials who bought up the rear of Qi’an armies. Pit 3 is very much a work in progress where many bits of partly dug up warrior litter the out-of-bounds central area.

There is also a museum where the army’s two famous bronze chariots are displayed along with a lot of incredibly self congratulatory stuff about the project. While you may expect the museum to convey the idea of “we discovered this, isn’t it great?” and give information on the army, rather it’s more “we discovered this, aren’t we great” with info on the political bigshots behind he project. We’ve noticed that many of China’s museums take on this self congratulatory tone, often at the expense of real insight into the subject. Anyway these are mere thorns in the side in comparison to the marvellous militaristic grandeur of the Army which makes it well worth a visit.

Entry tickets are 150 Yuan (£15 at time of writing), or half price for student card holders and OAPs. To get there tours from the lovely nearby city of Xian are an option, but  these can be expensive and it’s not a difficult journey to DIY:

Just head to Xian Bei (North) railway station near the old north gate and look for the bus park to the right of the main station. Look for tourist bus 5 (306), which will be grey in colour, costing 7 Yuan (70p*) each way. Ignore the blue and green buses which cost more and stop at various shops on the route. The various touts will say that the queue is long and their bus is quicker but the queue and the bus both move fast. Then just ride the bus to the end and return to the drop off point to come back.

Electrifying Agra and the Taj Mahal

It’s not everyday you can describe a place as electrifying in the literal sense. Nor is it everyday you have 230 volts jolting its way through your body as you unsuspectingly open the gate to the hostel to pop for breakfast, grabbing it tightly in both hands only to have the surge make its way quickly through your hands across your chest and then everything goes a bit hazy for a while whilst your heart starts to race and you become aware of things again and make sense of what just happened. Today however must be my (very un)lucky day. To say I was furious is to say the least, after the initial shock passes. Angered only more so when the hostel staff smirk (yes really) as I, and also a french girl complain after she experienced a similar encounter. It’s been pouring it down and the hostels light up sign, like everything else is a mass of open wires and broken panels quickly making the metal gate its attached to nice and dangerous. My hands still sting hours later. The sign has however now been unplugged you may be pleased to hear. What might surprise you is that said sign also didnt make its way up the back door of the goof on reception but theres still time yet.

Agra, like every other place is generally filthly, smelly and full of the typical pushy sales people, rickshaw drivers and people staring and making what seem to be unpleasant comments at our, and other tourists from round the world’s expense.

I consider myself accepting of all people however racism is something I understand maybe a bit more now having had some direct experience – though admittedly nothing compared to the lifetime of prejudice that some people still face.

Anyway, that aside it cannot go ignored how truly beautiful the Taj Mahal really is with its symmetry and intricate detail everywhere you look. Also a rainy day when we visit, a blessing in disguise as rather than being swarmed with people its actually pretty quiet and relaxed, save for the walk down towards the white structure which is unsurprisingly awash with people taking the typical infamous pictures of themselves, either looking like theyre touching the Taj roof, or mimicking the late Princess Diana. We were surprised by how many fellow hostellers were so down beat about it. It’s a wonder of the world! Still, theres no pleasing some people and I suspect not all who travel to india come for the culture and the heritage save for the elements that involve illicit substances which really isnt our scene hence why we perhaps don’t relate that well with some of our fellow backpacker’s views.

The Taj Mahal is in my opinion everything it is supposed to be. A living monument depicting eternal love from the Emperor Shah Jahan to his favourite wife (not only wife!) Mumtaz Mahal a title he bestowed upon her meaning “jewel of the palace”, after she had died giving birth to her 14th child (yes 14th!). The monument in all its beauty is a place of buriel for both her and later him, and its construction which took 22 years and 22000 workers To build was entirely in her memory.

An example of how the rich and the poor were, and continue to be worlds apart also rings true of such a grandiose structure, but nevertheless it is a magical and enchanting place and something I’m pleased we made the effort to see, in spite of the challenges both in Agra and indeed India at large.

A brief stop over and we’re facing another night train journey tonight for more adventures, and some of our last un India which we look forward to sharing soon.

Happy reading and please do keep sharing our blog.