Jia Jia and the Warriors, a short story from China.

Jia Jia and the Warriors, a short story from China.

After a prolonged period of stability, I finally bid farewell to Belgium in the summer of 2009. Uninspired by life in grey, uneventful Brussels, I headed off to China for an unforgettable year of teaching and traveling.

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The slow train from Beijing to Pingyao was a long, plodding, twelve-hour slog. We could have paid a bit more and cut that time in half. But hey, it was the start of our grand farewell trip and we figured there was plenty of time. Having gone for the overnight train, we also reckoned seven to eight hours of bunk bed sleep would wipe out most of the journey. And so it proved.

I was feeling reflective as we chugged out of the capital towards the final chapter of our Chinese adventure. Despite her disappointment that I was leaving, Trudy had been really gracious during my final weeks. In fact, she helped us sort out our train tickets and even threw a school party to ensure I departed to great fanfare.

A number of parents came to see me off too. Hence Trudy asked me to make a speech and formally introduce my replacement, Joanna from London. One of my students, Nina, burst into tears and hugged me so tightly I thought she might self-combust.

Jia Jia and the Warriors, a short story from China.

And then there was my teaching assistant Nini and her boyfriend Kevin. On my final day they presented me with a farewell present, a beautiful piece of framed Chinese dragon art. I felt touched by this, especially as Nini and I had a rough time working together in the beginning.

Putting all those cultural conflicts and miscommunications to one side, I had grown really fond of Nini. Now, I could’t help but feel guilty about all the times I’d gotten snappy with her. “Keep in touch Leighton!” gushed Trudy. “Maybe one day we will meet again”.

No chance, I remember thinking.

I slept well on the train. When I eventually awoke to the sound of rhythmic wheels my pensive mood had morphed into one of pure excitement. After all, we were back on the road again and about to explore one of China’s most fascinating cities. Indeed with its ancient city walls, brown tiled rooftops and cypress trees, Pingyao was a delightful place to spend a few days.

Designated a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1997, Pingyao positively drips with historic sites. And yet, its slow pace of life ensured that we never really found ourselves slipping out of first gear.

I adored it all, from the narrow market streets of the old quarter and the sculptures atop the city walls, to the local food scene and the multi-armed buddhas of Shuanglin Temple. One of these years I will definitely have to write up Pingyao in full for the travel report library.

Pingyao, China.

The night train from Pingyao to Xian took eleven hours. That aforementioned peace and relaxation was conspicuous in its absence as we arrived at Xian’s crazy train station. Consequently, I felt relieved when we spotted the girl from Shu Yuan Youth Hostel and she promptly whisked us away.  Unfortunately though, the jarring, smoky, honking minibus ride through Xian’s urban sprawl failed to provide any relief.

Even the hostel itself was bustling, with people of just about every nationality crammed into the communal lounge. The walls were rattling with the sound of animated chatter, colliding pool balls and clinking beer bottles. So we opted just to head straight out into the city.  

We kicked things off with a visit to Xian’s fascinating Muslim Quarter, home to the city’s ethnic Hui community. A network of interlocking lanes and streets, the neighbourhood was awash with eateries. There were noodle carts and stir-fry hole-in-the-wall joints. Moreover, we passed a string of open-air butchers, rickety juice stalls and endless dumpling houses. 

But it was the smell of freshly baked flatbread that made me stop in my tracks for a purchase. A trio of brothers ran the joint from a tiny cupboard of a kitchen where there was barely room enough for their hulking old oven and a cutting table. The bread was delicious. 

Jia Jia and the Warriors, a short story from China.

Amid all these culinary delights stood The Great Mosque, China’s largest grounds of Muslim prayer. Happily, it was open to visitors and free to enter (the only such mosque in China). While we couldn’t actually step inside the main hall, it was great to stroll around the gardens, admiring the carved stonework, wooden arches, Qing dynasty furniture and Islamic art.

The main reason we’d come to Xian was to see its world famous Terracotta Army, a collection of excavated ancient sculptures dating back to 210–209 BC. That evening we booked a tour through the hostel, which left early the next morning at a bright and breezy 8:00am. Our guide was a bubbly Chinese girl who introduced herself as Jia Jia. “Welcome to my tour! Mmm” she told us as we filed inside the minivan. 

“You peoples is very lucky, mmm. You know, today we will see some of China’s best treasures”. 

There were ten of us crammed into the van. En route, we stopped at The Tomb of Emperor Jingdi, an excavation site where twenty one narrow pits display a range of ancient relics. The Tomb sits within a stone museum, where an introductory hologram gives visitors a playful character profile on Emperor Jingdi (Jing of Han). 

Jingdi was a Han Dynasty emperor between 157 to 141 BC. According to historians, he was a decent chap who lowered taxes, cut down on frivolous military expenditure and was generally less murderous than other emperors of the era. 

Next came a somewhat dreary exhibition featuring various pots and pans discovered onsite. And then it was time to descend into the excavation pits for a look at the emperor’s tomb and the treasures that lay buried with him for so many centuries.

Funerary art was a common practice among China’s emperors. For the most part Jingdi chose to surround himself with figurines depicting everyday life. These naked terracotta figurines, for example, represented his many servants and eunuchs. The rough idea was that these dudes would protect him in the afterlife.

Tomb of Emperor Jingdi.

I should probably point out that these figures weren’t originally naked. Back when Jingidi died they would have been dressed in the finest silk before being added to his tomb. Furthermore, they came complete with movable wooden arms. Wood and silk rots of course, unlike terracotta. Thus archaeologists discovered these fascinating relics in an undignified state of armlessness.  

We were zooming down the motorway again, our eccentric tour guide keeping her subjects highly entertained. “Emperor Qin Shi Huang came before Jingdi. He rule from 221 to 210 BC, so we talking 53 years earlier. This man was very different to Jingdi… mmm. He was bad man, CRAZY some might say! He make many people slaves… mmm. The emperor hate Confucianism so much he ban it… mmm. Anyone who speak out against him, he bury alive… mmm”.

“But he did some good stuff too, right?” interjected a stiff-looking German man from the back of the van. “Mmm yes!” grinned Jia Jia, swinging her microphone playfully. “Qin Shi Huang evil but not stupid, mmm. He create first central government, mmm. Standardise currency… build many roads… mmm. He also give green light for Great Wall construction, mmm. So… as you say in English… he put in a good shift! Ha ha!!! Mmm”. 

Jia Jia and the Warriors, a short story from China.

When it came to preparing for his tomb, Emperor Qin Shi Huang made Jingdi’s afterlife protection plan look like mere child’s play. Plagued by an intense paranoia, he believed that evil spirits would come to claim his soul after his death.

As a result, he began drawing up plans to have his body protected by a vast mob of fearsome stone warriors. “The emperor also think that with this army he can continue to rule from grave! He fucking crazy! Mmm”.

At long last we arrived at the Mausoleum of the First Qin Emperor, home to Qin Shi Huang’s tomb and his incredible terracotta warriors. Jia Jia personally took us around the three underground pits containing the remains of the emperor’s insane project.

First up was Pit 2, a dimly lit warehouse divided into four sections by a raised, crucifix-shaped wall. Here, most of the stone soldiers on display were cracked and shattered, if not completely destroyed.

Jia Jia and the Warriors, a short story from China.

Nevertheless, the level of detail was impressive, with Jia Jia explaining that no two warriors were exactly alike. And right enough there were subtle differences among them, from their hairstyles and expressions to the type of footwear worn. “This one is an archer!” cried Jia Jia, leading us to a larger statue.

“In ancient China big belly and moustache considered very handsome!”

This was the cue for Kentucky Derek, a former U.S. soldier, to chip in. “Well… one out of two ain’t bad”, he laughed, patting his stomach. “Mmmm” replied Jia Jia and we all had a good laugh.

Next up was the u-shaped Pit 3, which contained seventy two warriors and horses. “Many warriors not finished!” revealed Jia Jia, with a knowing smile. “When the emperor die, project was abandon and the pits closed, mmm. The workers so relieved! Because the emperor killed many of them in order to protect his secret project, mmm”.

Saving the best for last, Jia Jia led us into the spectacular Pit 1. This, she explained, was the site’s largest space, home to around two thousand statues! It was an awesome sight, a vast expanse of east-facing figurines seemingly poised for battle.

“The warriors were discovered in 1974 by a farmer named Yang Xinman”, explained Jia Jia, as we all gazed out across the pit. “You know, Chinese government paid him only 10RMB for his discovery, mmm”.  “But I think he had interesting life because of this…mmm. He met many people from all over the world. Kings… queens… The Clintons, mmm”.

Pit 3.

“If you want meet him he is here today! He usually come to sign books and answer questions, mmm”. We exited Pit 1 into the adjoining gift shop and there he was, stationed at a desk. He must have been in his mid seventies at the time, a studious looking man dressed in a smart black shirt.

He had a pen in his hand, ever-ready to scribble down his signature for anyone who cared to have it. As someone who had been in poverty prior to finding the warriors, I supposed his life had improved immensely after his great find. And yet, I still found myself angry at the shameful amount (around $1.40) he’d been awarded. 

Jia Jia’s incredible enthusiasm and energy ensured the drive back to the hostel flew by. She cracked jokes and, with much gusto, sang us a traditional Chinese song. She asked us all where we were from and about our upcoming travel plans. Upon hearing that S was Dutch, Jia Jia got particularly animated.

Jia Jia and the Warriors, a short story from China.

“Oooh! I love Dutch people, mmm!” she exclaimed, digging around in her bag. “A few weeks ago Dutch girl give me these!” she beamed, producing two pairs of model clogs. “So cool! I also love windmill, mmm. And the orange football shirt, mmm. People always on the bicycles, mmm. Those crazy city rivers very narrow. The buildings look like might fall over, mmm”.

‘Jia Jia and the Warriors’ is the sixteenth tale from my short story series Challenged in China.

I’ve also written hundreds of travel reports from all across China.

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