Cities & Memory

"When a man rides a long time through wild regions he feels the desire for a city."
-Invisible Cities, Italo Calvino

Nanjing is cool and it has been for a really long time. Intermittently the site of the capitol during the last seven hundred years, Nanjing exists today as a cultural and historical epicenter for all of China. One of the few cities around where a visitor can tour ancient tombs; wander aimlessly through luscious natural parks and botanic gardens; gain knowledge at state-of-the-art museums; see bands perform in all languages in the lively nightclub district; drop by some of the best universities in China and mingle with the students who are eager to sharpen their English skills, not to mention peruse the foreign book stores and many coffee shops; spend money at high-end stores or the local trinket shops. It's all happening in Nanjing.

In older times Nanjing established itself as a magnet for intellectuals. They would flock to this city to pass tests of higher learning. It remains the terminus for academic pilgrims (of Chinese background) due to the prestigious national exams that are still administered in Nanjing. The purposes of my visit were solely aimed towards escaping the academic world.

I chose Nanjing as the destination for my self-appointed vacation. Little did I know that a legitimate holiday period was declared for the whole faculty shortly after I left my university. Nonetheless, after exams were over and all my paperwork was turned in I felt that I was owed some personal time. So personal time I took!

Nanjing, as mentioned before, is really cool. And conveniently enough, it's located just four hours south of my city. This made the preparation significantly easier and I already felt familiar with this city, to some degree, because all the students, insofar as they're able, remark about their trips to Nanjing in either praising or depressing tones (mind you they wind up there more for exams than holiday). But no self-respecting person in Nanjing—no matter how brief their stay—will neglect a visit to at least one of the many attractive lights in this chandelier city.

I rented a bicycle on my second day to allow for flexibility and freedom of movement. I had become wary of the public transportation system after the first twenty-four hours (constantly waiting for buses, trains and taxis is no fun). After politely asking one of the staff members at the hostel, “where might I rent a bicycle?” they gestured towards a bike that was nestled in the cobwebs underneath the stairwell. For a small fee, I'd have the privilege of dusting off this master of the road, this rickety and rusty cruiser, and pedaling off into the crisp January air. I hesitated at first. Then I began to wonder how easy it would be to find another bicycle rental business open in January. Needless to say, I didn't waste time pursuing alternative means of bike rental, for I had much to see.

After planning a route that would take me to some irresistible destinations, I set off. About two minutes into my ride, I quickly became savvy to the challenges inherent to traversing this bustling capitol city via bicycle. Crossing the modest city of LianYunGang by bike seems like a tricycle ride up and down your driveway in comparison with Nanjing. It was a white-knuckle thrill ride; it was hair-raising; it could be called eyeball-peeling; at times it was throw-your-head-back-and-laugh-like-a-madman fun!

So that was the ebb and flow of it. Ride around; walk around; get lost; take photos. That was the story, for the first forty-eight hours anyway.

Weather Report

There have been some mildly interesting weather phenomena while I've been living here in China. I've already expounded upon the mildness of the winter (a conclusion that I admit now was a bit premature), but there is something else interesting about the air over (t)here. Photographic evidence has been accruing steadily. There is a pattern emerging. It seems each time I travel throughout China, I'm accompanied by a heavy layer of fog. Whether the fog and I are along for the same ride or merely crossing paths is still undetermined. But there is a noticeable trend of my arrival in any new city here in China (and this includes my first setting foot in this country, in Shanghai) coinciding with the arrival of a dense fog. And what's more remarkable is that each time I leave a city, I'm chased out of town by blue skies. Such was the case in Nanjing.

When I arrived it was in the pissings of rain; not an ideal atmosphere for bitter-cold January. The next three days passed with little sunshine and even less visibility. For all I knew, Nanjing's skyline could have been as modest and underwhelming as the profile of my home base, LianYunGang. But sure enough, when I left town on Saturday morning, I could see for miles in each direction the winking faces of the steel and glass monoliths that populate Nanjing. Nanjing is as modern and high-tech as they come, but you're still able to find the pleasant touch of nature.

I spent a whole day getting lost around the hillocks and valleys of the Purple Mountain. And this natural preserve is a mere twenty minutes out of town by bike. Along with the city's friendly and green-thumbed neighbor, the streets of Nanjing are amiable and open. I've made brief mention of the diversity that can be found throughout the city, but that list didn't account for the hidden treasures. Nanjing is home to the only authentic Mexican restaurant I've seen in China. Now I haven't been everywhere, but I'm pretty comfortable in saying that a real Mexican place, complete with live guitar, plucking out the cascading and racing notes of latin music, is in very short supply in China. Yes, the excellent guitar can play a game of pick-up soccer with your ears, and in the meantime you can enjoy the most pleasant un-invited dinner guest, the plucky chocolate lab that comes by to collect the leftovers.

Not in the mood for a margarita with your burrito? Then why not catch a taxi over to Finnegan's Wake, an authentic Irish pub and also the best place for good craic in Nanjing. Choose one of the forty different blends of Scotch or go with the standard Guinness. Either way, you can't lose.

300,000

300,000. The estimated total number of casualties from the Japanese invasion of Nanjing. Among that number not only the soldiers are counted, but the innocent as well. The invaders took depravity to a whole new level; they invented new kinds of wickedness. The Nanjing Massacre Museum was one of my first stops in the city. In tandem with the overcast weather, the visit cast a pall over the trip. As much as anyone could linger on the astonishing and agonizing past of Nanjing, circa the winter of 1937-38, the winter of Nan-King's discontent, I found instead a new feeling. After the overwhelming story of the massacre, I was inspired by how the city of Nanjing is very much alive today. The city has taken great measures to preserve the memory of the crime that befell it, and rightly it should. But you needn't go far beyond the gray slate walls of the memorial to see a city bathed in ethereal glow; a place resonating with life.