So the first thing to admit is that I was wrong. Last year, in the post concerning the last half of our time in Beijing, I confidently declared that this would almost certainly be the only time in my life I'd get to go to China, and that if I did return, it would be a long time and a lot of resources spent to get there. So of course I found myself back less than a year later.
We were back because Sheldon, who had orchestrated our visit last year, liked us so much that he insisted we come as a feature group for the Xi'an Choral Festival, and put up a not inconsiderable amount of money to facilitate our travel. I won't say the amount, but I'll put it the way they did in the Godfather: it was A Proposal Not For Refusal.
Since the offer had come so late, and we had already spent our main trip elsewhere that summer, many Cardinals were sadly unable to travel with us, but we still had just enough to be a choir.
Also, Dr. Hatteberg was already in the area (as were a couple of our Korean members), so the bulk of us had to get ourselves from America to China without his help. Well, without his actively being there. Don't kid yourselves: he set up all the transportation himself.
We took a bus from Louisville to Chicago, then flew Chicago to Beijing, arriving around 8:00 at night and thoroughly turned around time-wise. It was good to get there at night, though, as it meant immediate sleep and re-orientation.
As with the previous year, the hotels we found ourselves in were uncommonly nice - all a function of the well-connected people that wanted us there. I mean, this was just the place we stayed for a brief night before getting to Xi'an:
So fancy!
One great thing about this trip is that we got to travel on the high-speed train, which we had missed out on the previous year due to last minute schedule changes. This time there was no question: our only option for going Beijing to Xi'an was by train! I was excited about this, because it meant seeing, for once, the Chinese country side, something other than the sweltering, oppressive megalopolises that made up the bulk of these trips.
On the train I found I could swivel my pair of seats around 180 degrees to make a 4-person compartment with the people behind me, so I did, and had a lovely 5-or-so-hour ride. Some shots:
Got to our very Embassy Suites-esque hotel:
And zoomed right off to the University for a rehearsal of that night's concert set, a 3-piece selection as part of the opening ceremony.
Got a copy of the program and noticed an apparent omission in what would be our main concert a day later:
Which is to say, my piece. Dr. Hatteberg had submitted On Goes the River alongside the rest of the list, but it was not in the program. I figured it was just a misprint, nothing to worry about, and carried on.
The next morning, we were taken up to the city wall of old Xi'an for some guided Tai Chi:
This was great fun, as we were lead in what I can only assume is their most basic and pedestrian of routines and then did it for a handful of rounds to a recording of some kinda music. Then, as a way of saying thanks, we sang something for them, a little My Old Kentucky Home, which I got to conduct, being that Dr. Hatteberg was elsewhere, busy with festival duties.
We then had about 45 minutes to roam the wall for a bit before returning to the bus. Some people rented tandem bikes, but I figured with the short time, it wasn't worth it, so I just walked:
As with Suzhou from the previous year, it was boilingly hot, both that morning and pretty much the entire time in Xi'an. You kind of got used to being drenched in sweat at all times.
For lunch, they took us to this fancy dinner theater place, where we didn't ever see a show but patronized each afternoon for a lunch buffet.
Then a rehearsal at the main stage again, this time for our big concert. This is where it was announced that indeed there had been a misprint in the program, and that this meant dropping my piece from the lineup. This was incredibly disappointing to me, though I don't like to complain about these sorts of things, as I had specifically asked in advance of the trip for OGTR to be included, and had been looking forward to presenting it to this audience. The fact of a simple misprint destroying all of that put me in a sour mood for almost the rest of the trip.
The concert itself, though, later that night, was a hit, and got much in the way of praise and compliments from people we saw on our way out.
The next morning, we had a demo session - the first of many - combined with the choir that was there from Utah, which was essentially a mock rehearsal going through the process of teaching and refining a work, one of which - the Battle of Jericho - we had firmly in our rep already, so a happy coincidence. All the demo sessions were held in this smaller hall:
We then had lunch and headed right back for our afternoon session, where Dr. Hatteberg elected to use a section of OGTR to demonstrate something with the sopranos; this, after the previous night, was a much appreciated conciliatory gesture.
We I think were originally going to have just free time after that, but on the bus, Dr. Hatteberg proposed we go somewhere called the Muslim Market, which turned out to be a kind of outdoor Silk Street/Pearl Market type place, with shops upon shops where haggling was the norm. The heat made me wary of the suggestion, but the fun made me excited, and soon we were hitting those market streets:
One fun thing about this trip was that one of Dr. Hatteberg's daughters, Lindsey, was along for the ride, and we got to enjoy seeing her dive into the haggling world, and let's just say this: she is indeed her father's daughter.
Happily managed to get myself a neato shirt for 50 chollars right there at the end before the group headed to dinner, then back to the concert hall to watch the only night of concerts in which we weren't participating. The highlight of the night was this Mongolian choir that did some crazy stuff, including a like chamber group with throat singer and traditional instruments:
A few people went to a party at the hotel which the choir had been invited to, but most people were too completely run down to go somewhere at 11:00, knowing we had an early demo session the next morning.
The next morning's session was more about conducting, and Dr. Hatteberg allowed volunteers from the Chinese audience to come up and conduct the Cardinal Singers a bit, something I can say from personal experience is incredibly fun. After the session, we went to this place that specializes in ancient Chinese calligraphy, which is to say, writing the symbols the way they used to look back when the language was first standardized, something like 3000 years ago.
He wrote something like "Welcome to Xi'an, Cardinal Singers" in ancient Chinese script.
Then lunch, then a quick break at the hotel, then another rehearsal for the closing concert, where we did another short set. Then a dumpling dinner!
After our closing set that night, we met Sheldon at last out in the lobby and presented him with a gift for putting together the trip and funding so much of it. Then it was back to the hotel and to bed.
Our formal concerts were essentially done at that point, despite having three full days left in the trip - for now, it was just tourism, baby! I kind of like having things formatted that way, with the business all packed in to one part of the trip, and the fun into another. With things spread out evenly, you never get to change those mental gears, which hinders the enjoyment somewhat. Maybe that's just me though.
The next day was what I'd been most looking forward to at last: the Terra Cotta Warriors!
That's how they all looked!
So there's a factory where they make new warriors, and customize them with your face if you pay em enough, but there's also the excavation site where the warriors of the more ancient variety are found. We went to the factory first.
Which sold far more than just the warriors:
We then made our way to the site where the old warriors were dug up:
That was the main building, but there were three total, so some of us ventured off to see them next:
Then, we went to a lunch place on-site, followed by a tea tasting:
And then, at last, we met the farmer:
This is the guy that stumbled upon the buried archaeological site in 1974, while digging a well. The government employs him to sit there and greet tourists. He smiled and waved, then went back to reading his paper.
Next, we headed to a pagoda to take a tour:
We had a guide show us around:
And then: more calligraphy! This time, modern. She taught us a few basic phrases, what they mean, and how to write them. The only two I remember are that "China" is written with two symbols that mean "Central Country", and America is two symbols that mean "Beautiful Country". That's literally their name for us. You guys!
Then we got a chance at writing our names on rice paper. Mine was pretty janky but luckily we got to keep her copy as well as ours.
We then ended the say with a dinner show. I didn't know quite what to expect, but it ended up being really cool.
They had this musician as a warm up act:
Then this full on band with traditional Chinese instruments:
Then the sleeve dancers, which was way more mesmerizing than I could have anticipated:
Then this dude, who went mad crazy on his hooty little instrument:
Which I believe was a Sheng.
And that was that for Xi'an! With the festival over and the sights seen, we set out on the bus to the train station the next morning, seeing bits of the city one last time:
And arrived at the very massive train station:
Took another 5-or-so hour ride back to Beijing and once in the city made our first stop at - you guessed it - Silk Street.
The hagglers are baaaack, baby!
Having had my fun with trinkets and knick-knacks last year, it was only appropriate that this year I would go for a big ticket item: a suit. About nine people got together determined to find the best deal on custom tailored, made-from-scratch suits, and we spent almost all of the 2 hours there on our little gambit. The lowest we got was ¥600 each, with free delivery to the hotel the next day, which equates to about 89 bucks. Kind of a stunning deal. So we picked our fabrics and had our measurements taken. I had seen this perfect pattern in another store, grey patterned with a subtle pink stripe, but it was nowhere to be seen in the store that offered us the best price, so I went with grey.
With that done, we got dinner and then hit the hotel for the night. The next day was the watershed moment: the return to the Great Wall.
I'd been mentally preparing for this for months. Ever since it was announced that we'd return to China, I knew it meant a second go at the Great Wall. An opportunity for redemption. A chance to fix what was broken.
Mental preparation is one thing, but I think I should have been physically preparing as well.
We went right back to the exact same spot as last year, too. First, though, we sang an abbreviated, informal concert in our Cardinal polo shirts for whoever happened to pass by. Not just anyone can do this, either, you have to jump through some hoops to get special permission, and Sheldon had set the whole thing up. We mostly did our more rousing numbers, but Dr. Hatteberg also had me conduct On Goes the River, so while I may not have gotten my concert hall performance, I can now say my music's been performed on the Great Wall of China, and that's not something most people can say.
We then quickly got into our tuxes and dresses for a picture - thankfully at the bottom this time, rather than the top.
Then it was time. I changed my shirt and grabbed some water. I was ready.
This year, since we did the photo already, we had a choice of going up the "hard way" - last year's path - or the "easy way" - a path to the left that we had ignored the year before. About 75% of people went the "easy way", but I was determined to go hard. A couple people joined me, and off we went:
At about halfway up the first flight, right about here, I collapsed in agony and exhaustion:
Something about the sweltering heat and humidity, the unevenness of the steps, and maybe having just done about a 45 minute concert, was hitting me hard. My vision narrowed alarmingly. I couldn't get a solid breath of air. My heart was threatening to explode forth from my chest. I genuinely started to lose my hearing. The wall was killing me once again. Here I thought I was returning to conquer the beast, when in fact I was returning so it could finish me off!
I sat there on that step for several minutes, trying to recover. And I thought: what is the point? If I push myself to ascend all twelve flights ahead of me, I might make it, probably not, and either way my friends will be tasked with carrying me back down on a stretcher. There certainly wasn't the time to make my way up slowly. So what were my options? Hobble back down, in shame once again, and try the easy way? Or shuffle all the way back to the bus and await the rest of my friends?
I wanted to win. But I wasn't even to where I'd gotten the year before and I felt far, far worse already. I physically could not do it.
There is no great victory story here. After a few minutes of consideration, I made my way back down. I tried the easy way too, but barely making it down to the river, I was right back to tunnel vision and precarious balance. It took all I had to go back up from that, too, back to the entrance area where I found a couple others who had declined to scale the wall and bought a desperately needed water.
A little while later, a couple more came down from the wall (one having lost his glasses over the side from a combination of sweat and gravity), and we all commiserated until it was time to return to the bus. Only one who had tried the "hard way" had made it up, but only because of time, not inability. Plenty of people had known I was attempting to even my score from the previous year, and I hated having to tell them it was all for naught.
For lunch, we went - I think - back to the same post-Wall restaurant as last year, with a jade shop attached:
Then, off to a place with a real chance of cheering me up: that's right, the Pearl Market.
I went in thinking, you know, I've bought my suit, spent enough of my money, no need to get anything else. But it's amazing how you start to want stuff once it's there in front of your face for a tantalizingly great deal. I got two watches, a wallet, and some pearl cufflinks, none of which I needed at all! I don't even wear watches!!
Dinner followed, then hotel, as it always does. Then a large group got washed and changed for one last outing: you know it - Hou Hai.
This year, however, we weren't able to get the bus to take us and pick us up, and we'd gotten a later start than last year, so by the time we'd taken the metro/subway/underground/whatever you call it in China, there was only a good half hour to spend there before you risked the subway closing for the night and being unable to get back. Unable, that is, unless you elected to take a cab.
Twenty minutes in and realizing we'd barely seen any of the place at all, that is precisely what Matt, Sam, and I elected to do. With no more barriers to how long we could be out, we made our calm, cool way around the lake, taking in the scenery, and of course, having a few beers.
Got our cab back no problem, picked up our suits which had indeed been delivered, and went to bed. Not realizing the blackout curtains in my room were pulled, I slept all the way til about 11:30 the next morning, completely missing breakfast and barely having time to pack.
On the bus to the airport, we were given sandwiches from Subway, which had been arranged to save us a bit of time that morning. Having missed breakfast, I scarfed mine down pretty quick.
Linda, who had been our guide in Beijing once again this year, told us how much she'd enjoyed being with us again, and at our request, sang a quick song for us, just like last year. And of course, once at the airport, we sang Irish Blessing for her before parting ways.
Security took a long time to get through, so there was only enough time to get a quick snack at the coffee stand right by our gate before boarding. No engine emergencies this time, and we were all thankfully on the same flight (save those heading for different destinations, like Dr. Hatteberg and the Koreans).
I made the mistake of not sleeping on the flight to Dallas, our stopover before continuing to Chicago, minus the two people who are from Texas. Had dinner at the Dallas airport - mercifully large-portioned American food - and called our bus driver to arrange the meeting spot once we flew into Chicago. As the plane landed at around 11:00 PM, we were set to drive through the night and arrive back in Louisville around 5:00 AM. This is what the University campus looks like at 5 in the morning:
I was, predictably, discombobulated after that. Having only gotten a cursory amount of sleep on the bus ride, I had gone roughly 30 hours without much sleep. I slept until 5:00 PM that day and somehow did not contract any debilitating illness.
So that's the end. It was pretty difficult writing this post, as it was humiliating to fail on the Great Wall twice. I'm not happy about it. I also don't know why it happened. Almost everyone else was able to do it no problem, both times. I begin to wonder whether there might be something medically wrong with me, or if perhaps I merely want there to be so that I have some excuse.
I wanted there to be a victory story. I wanted redemption. But I don't get to have something just because it would be thematically satisfying. Life isn't structured that way. I made a grand prediction last year about my chances of returning to China, was dead-out wrong, then had my piece cut from the program and failed to climb even one staircase at the Wall. A lot of things went totally wrong. And it makes me sort of ask: what the hell was the point of the second chance? I didn't fare any better.
And yet; what a trip. What an opportunity. To see China, again, in the same year that I had toured across Europe, lived with a family in Staudt, made my debut at Carnegie Hall, sang on the National stage of ACDA in Minneapolis, and got a piece commissioned and premiered in lovely Asheville, NC. There's never been a year like 2017 for my travels, and I know that, and I'm happy to have gone where I've gone and seen what I've seen. The memories play back like a movie montage in my mind, and I not only see the sights, but relive how it felt to be everywhere.
And what was that oh so persistently recurring theme of this blog again? The one from Paris, Indianapolis, Newport News, and now Xi'an? Ah yes: it's always worth it, even when it goes wrong. That's right. I remember.
Not long after my return, I moved to a new apartment, adjacent to a few beautiful places in the city, and now, every morning, I go for a run - something I've never done before - a little echo of my efforts on the wall, now building up slowly, rather than all at once.
And if, one last summer in a row, Sheldon were to put together another trip, a China Part Three, well - I'll be ready.
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