Black Lungs in Central China

Escaping the cold weather in central China is just about impossible. Even the temperature inside restaurants, shops and other establishments usually ranges from ridiculously freezing (-10 Celsius with doors open wide to the snowy streets outside) to a temperature that is just cold enough to be uncomfortable. The only place I have actually been able to get warm is in bed under several, usually dirty, blankets. Everything here is dirty. The toilets are easily the filthiest I've ever come in all my travels.

The sound of people digging deep in their throats for phlegm is ubiquitous – as is the ultimate result of their efforts which is spattered over all the sidewalks. When it isn't a fresh gob of spit still sticky on the cement, you’re slipping on it because it has already frozen. Spit is on the floors of trains, busses, restaurants and just about everywhere else. Sometimes while sleeping on the night trains I’m awakened by the sound of someone coughing up a big loogie – I’m left lying in the pitch black wondering where the final product will end up. Cultural differences with regard to oral discharge don’t end with the simple fact that Westerners regard it as a pretty gross thing to do in public. In fact, one of the most interesting things about it is that the spitting gender bias doesn’t exist here. Indeed, while walking down the street you might pass by a simply stunning and graceful young woman only to hear her a few seconds later proudly liberating a mouthful of the salty stuff into a sewer grate.

The other inescapable filth is in the air. The vast majority of heat in this part of China – what there is of it – is produced by coal. Men piloting three-wheeled bicycles in clothes covered in coal-dust pedal the alleys and streets delivering uniform sized units of coal. The pieces resemble a small stack of oversized hockey pucks with a series of holes drilled through the centre to let the air pass through the cylindrical stove chamber. While most homes here in Xi’an and back in Beijing have one of these coal stoves, this wasn’t the case in the small town of Pingyao in Shanxi province (not to be confused with the neighbouring province we're in now which is called Shaanxi!), where we spent several days. There, many people are too poor to even afford standard coal and resort to burning very low grade coal in large chunks – they look like they came right from the mine – or any biomass they can find (e.g., dried stalks of corn, leaves, etc.). This gives the charming and extremely cool historic town a hint of London, England…circa 1795. A blanket of thick smog covers the small town and with every breath you take you can taste burning coal and other pungent things being combusted. This is not hyperbole!

Yesterday, Jill and I climbed the steps to the top of the city wall to walk the perimeter of the old town. Pingyao is the last remaining Chinese city with a Ming Dynasty (1368-1664) city wall that is still fully intact. We quietly walked along the stone structure and took time to inspect the snow that had recently fallen upon the stone wall facing away from town. As we looked closely we could see that the snow is speckled with black grains. It looks as though someone has taken a pepper shaker and given it a good dousing. The black stuff gets everywhere. If you run your finger along any outdoor surface anywhere in town you will find it has become covered in soot. I can practically feel my pink lungs turning black!

Even without the coal to contend with, the indoor air quality isn't much better. Chinese smoke just about everywhere at all waking hours – some even push this limitation by lighting up while falling asleep on their bunks in the train. Once I return home I'll have to take a canoe trip to Algonquin just to remember what it is like to really breathe...right now I'd even take a hot August day in Toronto under a smog alert!

Now, after all that complaining would it be weird to say that I’m having a good time? Then weird it is. In fact, we’re having a truly wonderful cultural experience. China in the winter is like nowhere else I’ve been. There are hardly any tourists compared to pictures I’ve seen from the summer time. I think the fact that our small group of eight only stumbled across two other tourists – and they were together – on our four hour hike along the Great Wall stands as a testament to the positives of travelling here in the winter. We've seen some awesome things and the adversity we face seems to add to the feeling of reward once you’ve accomplished what you’ve set out to do.

We’re still settling into Xi'an. Tomorrow we’re heading a bit out of town on a day trip to check out the 2000 year old Terracotta Warriors who stand guard over the Qin (pronounced "Chin") emperor's tomb. He's the despotic ruler who first unified China in 221 BC, standardized Chinese text, weights and measures, and is reportedly where the Western world gets the word "China" from (Zhong Guo, the Chinese name for their nation state, literally translates as “Middle Kingdom”). After we spend some time here we’re heading south to Chengdu in Sichuan province where it will hopefully be a little bit warmer – I'm not holding my breath though. Gotta stop typing, it’s so cold in here my fingers are actually turning blue...

A.