Through the Gates

Late at night our train crossed under large gates welcoming us to China. As we pulled into the station, we were all awake, hanging out the open windows on the warm evening. And then we heard the loud speakers. At the perfectly kept and maintained station, with green shrubbery (welcome sight after days of brown dessert) speakers blared the Chinese national anthem, and then Beethoven's 5th, and then Gershwin, and then Mozart.  We all chuckled and then were beckoned back into our cabins for passport control and customs paperwork.

The train then proceeded backwards and into the bays where we changed bogies. Russian and Mongolian tracks are the same gauge, which differs from the rest of the world (think military strategy) so Chinese bound wagons are lifted from their chassis and engineers modify the separation of the train wheels.  The process took nearly 90 minutes for over a dozen cars. Precision was key for the hydraulic lifts, and military officers oversees us as we all hang out the windows snapping photos and video of the process.  And while there, fireworks erupted over the town and main station.

The next morning we awoke in the countryside with farmers squatting over fields, planting and weeding by hand. Their homes further away in an enclave of brick.  Each town/village entrance is marked with a bright gate, similar to the ones we see over Chinatown streets in urban centers in the US.

Townfolk do not decorate. I saw few latterns and few flags, and of the latter those were mainly Chinese pennants.  These pennants marked the few heavy earth moving equipment we saw. The was a large crew rerouting a river for irrigation.  Large gabions and diversions were set ever few hundred yards to pool water into nearby fields. Whereas some of the work was being done by equipment most was at the hands of laborers. For hours as we descended from the mountains into Beijing, we did not see a single piece of farming equipment over the vast fields of spring planting. 

Unlike Mongolia and Siberia, homes are made of brick, surrounded by brick fences and walls. Like Mongolia, street maintenance is not done by a mechanized street sweeper but a couple of men, some brooms, and a trash bin.  Trees line each road in uniform fashion, trees perfectly spaced apart.  Trash and rubble piles dot side roads used by bikes...which flow into the streams.  Large new apartment buildings are topped with solar panels but homes and buildings have water heaters on the roofs with houses extended down.

In our short time through the country side we saw a nuclear plant and several large power plants near rivers and railway coal terminals. Like Mongolia we saw a few wind turbines spinning in the distance.

Humidity and haze grew as we headed south, impeding upon our ability to take quality pictures of the mountainous landscape. I found the countryside very pretty and idyllic almost; but, those who know me know I am a mountain girl at heart.  The vast amount of concrete lined channels to direct storm fly down the mountains are flanked by those perfectly planted trees. Perhaps for erosion. Perhaps for beauty.  Perhaps to provide jobs.