Today has been both memorable and poignant for me, for today would have been my Mum’s 84th birthday. I never planned today, it rather ambushed me unawares. I was off to see even older artifacts. Two millennia older to be more precise.
However, intrepid as always, we set out in the pouring rain (me still sans any kind of brolly or waterproofs) and of course in the rain there were no empty taxis. Apparently the concierge suggested to Alice that we might be better taking the 103 bus to the train station, where we would get the terracotta bus. “Very close” to me these days means less than a hundred yards but of course everyone lies to me. It was more like half a mile in the pissing rain.
But yes, we got a bus and I even got a seat but only by virtue of many seats being soaking wet, everyone else eschewed them and were standing. Thankful to have had the foresight to bring a plentiful supply of tissues, I dried and cleaned a seat and gratefully rested for the journey. Then of course my local guide Alice managed to get lost trying to find where the damned bus for the terracotta warriors left so when we finally found a bus I was decidedly damp. But hey, 7y each for a 25 mile ride?
It was only when we got to the attraction over an hour later that the scale of the walking involved started to hit home. Certainly I paid for an electric bus ride to get from the bus stop to there (or as close as you can) but there was still a hike and the rest of the visit involved a lot of stairs and shoe leather. My hips can only tolerate so much these days .
The three halls of the terracotta warrior exhibition are probably quite enthralling for most people. But I am not most people. I had rather hoped that with the shitty weather it would be sparsely populated but no such luck. Despite signs everywhere prohibiting flash photography people flashed away regardless and worse, whilst I tried to follow the rules, nudging me so that my “no flash” photos came out too blurred for me to use.
Halls two and three I found boring. I had after all come to see the main attraction, the clay army in hall one, a colossal structure that would probably be half the size of the old Wembley stadium. Now that was indeed worth the trip to see. Yes, I know many of those reading would dearly love to have been in my rather damp shoes but I have to say that although it was wonderful, it was not as some people would have, the 8th wonder of the world. Great yes, breathtaking, a little less so. Maybe it was a combination of being kept at more than arms length from the exhibits, the lack of lighting and the pushing and shoving even by what surely were sparse crowds in comparison to sunny days? I simply had a sense of being glad I had done it, seen it, taken photos of it and just wanted to go somewhere to rest before we headed back.
If I tell the truth, the hairs on the back of my neck did not stand on end as they did in the Nanking massacre museum or at the rainbow mountains. It was a great experience but not in my top ten life experiences if you can understand? Certainly though, something ticked off the bucket list (God I hate that term) if I had one but I don’t and never will have one. I have always had a wish list and always will but I have no intention of transforming it into my life’s remaining ambitions. I find experiences present themselves and I have a blast, whereas if I chase them they invariably disappoint.
So being less than enthused than many (and now having people muttering “ungrateful bastard”) with the experience, we headed back to the hotel. Things to do first and then dinner to be had.
Later we went out to the Cyclist restaurant as planned, the number one in Xi’an. “Don’t expect too much” said Alice. After last night probably sage advice but I said sorry, but for the number one, I DO expect a lot.
Definitely a quirky place. Stupidly I ordered two courses each. Starters were smoked salmon (served the strangest way I have ever encountered but nonetheless tasty), pate and bread (haven’t had good pate for ages) and then Alice had spaghetti and sirloin while I ordered pork ribs. No chance at all of finishing that lot as well as cold Guinness (and for Alice a cherry beer - what??). I did make comment to the owner before he ordered us a car to take us home and before I paid so as to ensure that he could include the cost of the ride home, that his food wasn’t the best I had ever had. It wasn’t. It was good to be sure but the reason his place is number one is not down to the fare, it is the friendly service. I also said I wished we had gone there last night because we would have gone again tonight and had something different.
It wasn’t cheap but then it wasn’t as expensive as expected. Terrific beer and wine selection along with spirits and I spotted that there was Sandeman port on sale to take away. I silently ummed and aahed for an hour over splashing out 190y for a bottle until finally Mum shouted in my ear to just bloody buy it. I did. Well it WAS her birthday!
Most of it is gone now and none will survive until morning. Alice is asleep but the young can remain comatose for far longer than the old. She did though like the small glass I gave her earlier. Maybe that’s why she conked out so quickly!!
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