For about a month, our conversations went something like this:
“How about Thailand? If we fly in to Phuket, we could catch a ferry to X and go diving for 3 days…”
“No, no- what about the decompression time after and before the flight? I’m not keen on getting the bends. And my passport only has two free pages left. The lady at the airport in Bangkok yelled at me about that back in August. ”
“Well, how about the Philippines?”
“I’m not in the mood for a week of lethal public transport. And they’re flooding.”
“Japan?”
“Too expensive. Am unemployed, remember?”
“India?”
“I don’t have enough passport pages for a visa, remember?”
“Lijiang? Dali? Shangri La?”
“Too crowded.”
“Kashgar?”
“Flights are over $1000. Not really worth it for a 5 day holiday.”
“How about…Datong?”
“Datong? Where the hell is Datong?”
“It’s up near Inner Mongolia, in Shanxi Province. It’s the most heavily polluted coal mining town in China. Part of the Great Wall is there. They have the least holy mountain in Taoism. And a hanging monastery. And they are famous for noodles and dumplings.”
“Well, sure, let’s go!”
And so we booked our flight to Datong. I felt a frisson of excitement whenever I thought about it. 5 days in Datong!
I practised saying it with all the wrong tones, drawling out a gleefully languid Texan Dah Tawng rather than the accurately abrupt Dàtóng. I’m going to Daaah Taaawng, I’d drawl to anyone who’d listen. I’m going to Daaaaaaaaaah Tawwwwnnng an’ am gonna clamb thayut Big Wall o’ China an’ I’m gonna eat me some noodles! Yeeehaw!
Chinese colleagues scratched their heads in absolute incomprehension. Where? Where are you going? Sorry?
Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Taaaaaaawg!
Yes, I am that big of an unsocialized dork.
Look at what Datong has to offer and you can see why I was getting disproportionately giddy over it.
The Hanging Monastery. Photo courtesy of bigguyoz
The Yungang Grotto, by Theodora
And so on. (more…)
