The Great Wall of China

What an exciting adventure today has been. We got up a little earlier this morning to embark on a tour of the Great Wall of China. Our bus was to depart at 7:00 am, and when we stepped outside our alley, I noticed a brand new, shiny charter bus parked along the street. I joked to mom, “There’s our bus.” Then to our amazement, we were lead up to and then in it. “Wow. This is for real,” I chuckled.

Beijing is a massive, sprawling metropolis with around 17 million people and it was nearly two hours later until we finally left its last suburbs. The longer we drove, the scenery looked increasingly more like a third world country. The gleaming high rises shrunk to lower, squat buildings with living quarters in the upper stories and small, dirty shops below. More rickshaws, bicycles and pedestrians were common instead of late model sedans. As we passed into a more agricultural area, the countryside strikingly reminded me of farming villages in India. Small, stained homes opening up to courtyards with various domestic animals milling about were dotted throughout acres of corn. Women could be seen husking corn while small groups of old men squatted together in close circles, chatting or playing cards.

As I looked out the high bus windows, I pondered the lives of these people. What do they live for? What are their hopes and dreams for the future? Most imagine happiness and success can be found in an affluent western lifestyle. Chinese are moving to the cities by the droves, hoping to get an education, find a good job and buy a house, car and flat screen TV. If only they could know the emptiness and dissatisfaction that haunts such a life. My heart was heavy for them, wishing they could discover the source of real life, the abundant, ebullient joy within that is so much more than just happiness, and realize their purpose to live in a relationship with Jesus Christ.

As we drew nearer to our destination, we began to get faint glimpses of steep, verdant mountains emerging from the dense fog. Once closer to them, I was shocked at just how sheer the sides actually were. Walls of dense vegetation shot up almost perpendicularly, and then abruptly plunged down over the top of ridge. It was then I noticed the Great Wall, stretching on an on, undulating over the highest ridge as far as the eye could see. I could hardly believe my eyes, incredulously staring as the wall climbed impossibly steep ridges and then plummeted out of sight, only to rise again to the next apex along the ridge.

The Great Wall of China began as a series of smaller walls constructed along China’s northern border to protect against invaders. Some portions dating back to the 6th century B.C., it was expanded upon and later joined into a formidable wall throughout successive dynasties. At its peak during the Ming Dynasty, it spanned approximately 4,100 miles and was guarded by over one million men.

As I climbed along the wall, I was blown away by the tremendous amount of labor that must have been required to accomplish such a feat. It was pretty hard work just hiking along the top of the wall - I couldn’t imagine hauling load upon load of bricks, stone and mortar up the mountainside. The vistas were incredible, and we all immensely enjoyed the fresh mountain air and the exercise after the smog of Beijing.
After walking along the top for about 6 miles, we came to the trail to take down to our bus. As a shortcut, a “cable route” was provided. You are strapped into a harness, clipped onto a cable, and pushed off the edge, hanging 80 or so feet above the river below. Rachelle and I were clipped on together and after the first rush of adrenaline as I fell of the edge, it was a blast. Bethany and Sarah and then Dad and Mom followed, and then we took a small boat back to the bus. It was a terrific way to end an amazing day.

China

Photo courtesy Rachelle Grizzard

Photo courtesy Bethany Grizzard

Photo courtesy Bethany Grizzard

Wow. It’s hard to believe we are really in Beijing, China. The last three days blur in my memory, but I’ll try to relate some of our experiences thus far.

We left Denver for San Francisco Monday morning, laden down with 11 check in bags, just one shy of our total limit of two per person. The bulk of these are comprised of Christian literature, and nearly every one weighs within a few ounces of their weight limit of 50 pounds. But despite lugging around 500 pounds of baggage, we were able to navigate the airports relatively easily and we were soon in California awaiting our Air China 747 to take us to Beijing.

While in the San Francisco airport, we quickly noticed that we were already the minority. All throughout the terminals, among hundreds of passengers and even employees of the airport shops, Chinese was obviously the most commonly heard language. While in line to grab some lunch at a Burger King, I was trying to tell Dad one of the 4 Chinese phrases I know, “Nee hwua shaw yinwin ma?” (“Do you speak English?”). An ethnic Chinese man in front of us spun around, looking greatly amused and slightly disgusted. I’m sure never in his life had he heard his mother tongue so excruciatingly butchered.

Some 15 hours later we touched down on Chinese soil. To say the Beijing airport, newly renovated in time for the Olympics, was impressive would be an understatement. We walked down vast corridors of granite slabs and expansive ceilings swelling up in a similar design to the Bird’s Nest Olympic stadium, equipped with the latest in technology and aesthetic design. I looked around, noticing in every direction large, colorful posters sporting “Beijing 2008 - One World, One Dream.”

To say that the Chinese script is daunting to decipher would be an even greater understatement - impossible would be a more appropriate description - and we were inexpressibly grateful for the English subtitles to aid us in negotiating the airport.

It really is an exciting time in China’s history. The world is observing the country in the midst of an unfinished revolution. It is in drastic contrast to the Communist Cultural Revolution of the 70’s. Instead of clamming up and isolation, it is throwing the doors wide open to the global market. Instead of destroying the old and traditional, China is attempting to restore it, if for no other reason than tapping in to the prosperous tourist market. And with its enormous population and booming economy, China is undertaking an unprecedented transformation of the country, attempting to modernize and develop at breakneck speeds. In less than 15 years, China has nearly eradicated every trace of the 40 years of stagnant Maoist socialism. Beijing and Shanghai are teeming with new cars, neon lights, state-of-the-art skyscrapers and the latest mobile phones.

But behind the impressive economy and hype, a confusing picture lurks. The gap between rich and poor is better described as a chasm, the government resists any progression to democracy, and restrictions on free speech and access to information are intensifying. As Damian Harper describes it, “The government pays lip service to Marxist-Leninism while knowing that its grip on power may depend purely on embracing capitalism for economic growth.” In the midst of all this, Chinese society gagged by censorship and restrictions struggles for expression and real identity. I believe this is one reason for the incredible growth of Christianity in China. God is using this search for meaning and the spiritual bankruptcy at the heart of their society to cause the Chinese to find true purpose and life in Jesus Christ. Due to the necessity of secrecy for security, it is impossible to know just how many Christians are in China, but many estimate it to be around 100 million. This is equivalent to one third of the population of the United States, but with China’s population topping 1.3 billion, it is still only a thirteenth of the total amount of Chinese. Please pray that the church here would continue to grow and prosper, and that Christian materials so desperately needed could make it into the hands of Christians.

As we attempted to secure a taxi driver and haggle over the fare to bring us to our hostel, I became painfully aware of just how little I know of the language and culture. Since I was 12, I have only spent time in a country where the predominant language was either Spanish or Hindi. It was amazing to discover what a difference knowing just a few words and phrases in those languages makes in day to day travel.

Fortunately Dad had the phone number to the hostel we were to stay at, so the taxi driver, who knew no English, could call the manager and ask her for directions. When we finally stopped in front of a dark alley and were told this was the place, I couldn’t help but begin mental preparations for some dark, dank rundown operation. The manger came out to usher us down a series of alleys that would not have been too long a walk had it not been for our multitude of heavy bags. When we reached the gate, I was delightfully surprised to find my fears proven quite false. The hostel is designed to mimic classical Chinese architecture, with cozy rooms opening up around a lovely courtyard. We ate dinner in the courtyard, savoring wafts from the fragrant plants growing nearby and enjoying the cool summer breeze.

This morning’s adventures began when we decided to seek out breakfast in China. After ambling down several streets we came across a “dumpling” shop. When we came up to the counter to order, I glanced up at the menu - an intimidating series of columns of Chinese characters, almost menacing in their impossibility to be understood. Dad attempted to order with various sounds and gesticulations, but as the waitress was having considerable difficulty making sense of them, we were blessed to have a man who understood a little English help order. We received a steaming tray of these “dumplings” - flat strips of flour filled with vegetables or meat, rolled into a ball and then boiled. A few were quite tasty, depending upon their filling. This ranged from egg and mushroom to broccoli and spinach to pork to fish to shrimp, most of which my stomach was having difficulty mastering for breakfast.

After breakfast we hopped aboard a very crowed, albeit quite new bus and rode to Tien’amen Square. This large concrete expanse is the epitome of Maoist propaganda, with several monuments honoring various communist leaders called “Liberators of China” or “Heroes of the people”. Flanking these on either side are the building in which the communist legislature meets and a museum on the history of China, and on one end of the square one can go see the embalmed body of Mao himself, if so inclined. Surrounding this are remainders of the old Beijing wall built during the Ming dynasty, ironic remnants of a more beautiful and dignified age.

After this we entered the exquisite Forbidden City. Built in the 1400’s, 24 different emperors ruled China from this vast network of walls, palaces, moats, halls and gardens all ornately decorated with intricately carved wood, bronze and marble. Its name was earned because for nearly 600 years no one could enter it unless given express permission by the emperor himself. We had a very enjoyable time wandering through the vast halls and expanses in awe of the mighty empire that once governed this country.

Afterward we decided to stop in a local restaurant for some lunch. While we were there, we attempted to learn the discipline of eating with chopsticks. This, of course, had comical results, much to the amusement of our fellow diners. Finally a couple of them patiently tried to show us how, and when we could finally pick up one grain of rice, we felt like maybe we had started to get the hang of it. The eggplant and rice was good, but the meat seemed a little strange. Sarah was confident our shish-kabobs were comprised of dog meat, which actually, according to one of our guidebooks, “is eaten commonly in Beijing, especially in the winter months.” I can only hope Sarah was wrong...