Leaving Lanzhou by train is a lot like leaving New York (except that a mixed-voice quartet is singing Brahms’ lullaby in Chinese over the PA). The train ambles along and the city persists for miles. Lanzhou, Lanzhou, Lanzhou, the massive apartment blocks that look alike in every quarter of the city – then railyards, military trains on sidings, bald tan mountains in the near distance, a glimpse of the gleaming northwest city from afar. Factories, then Lanzhou turns low-rise, with squat and shabby apartment blocks that give way to miles of big truck and heavy equipment dealers. Fuel tanks, more factories, the Yellow River now visible and mountains looming closer. Strange, I can’t recall riding a train in the U.S. that didn’t run on straight tracks; I’m in the fourteenth car, and I can see the locomotive snaking ahead. We cross the Yellow River, and are instantly in the countryside. Every little farmstead has its own enclosed compound, a wall as high as the buildings themselves. There is a satellite dish on almost every rooftop. The fields are ready for spring planting; I marvel that anything will grow in soil that looks like pale cocoa powder.

I am on my way to Zhangye, about 500 miles northwest of Lanzhou. This is my first exploration of Gansu Province. Two friends, Amity teachers Gary and Andrew, teach there at Hexi Teachers’ College. Zhangye is a small town, so small that Gary and Andrew can walk anywhere they need to go. On my first morning, I was sitting in a noodle shop enjoying breakfast, looking out the open door at the sunlit street and thinking how bucolic it all was – when a man walked by leading a cow.

Later that morning I was strolling on Marco Polo St., the town’s pretentious new commercial development, when a young man greeted me and we began to walk along together and talk. He identified himself as a middle school teacher of Chinese who loves English and who would like me to be his “American friend” and teach him better English. I explained that I was on a brief visit, so it wouldn’t be possible for me to be his tutor. When we reached my hotel, I shook his hand and said good bye. Little did I know that when I emerged later, he would be waiting for me. My Amity friends were busy teaching, and my plan was to explore the town on foot. This I did in the relentless company of my new friend. He had exhausted his fund of English and I my Chinese during our first meeting, so the next hours were spent walking in silence or revisiting old topics. I gently declined tea, a meal, and even an invitation to take a nap in his room. Finally I accepted his invitation to have our portrait taken together in a photo studio. The photographer adjusted a brilliant green backdrop depicting grass, trees, and a country cottage, western style, with a white picket fence. We stepped together into this idyllic two-dimensional world and the camera’s flash captured our curious friendship. A day later, the hotel desk clerk handed me an envelope containing a crisply laminated print. Looking at it now makes me feel conflicted and sad. Du Hei Qi is beaming; I tower over him looking harassed, the neckline of my blouse askew, hands clasped nervously before me. My strained smile shows how confusing such situations are for me. I hope I made a loving response, despite all of my fumbling ambivalence, to his overbearing offer of friendship.

It rained lightly for half a day while I was in Zhangye. We all marveled; it seldom rains in Gansu in the spring. The whole town smelled the way my university office smells when I wet mop the cement floor – damp dust, not a fragrance Estee will ever decide to bottle. When the rain let up, Gary took me to see the Sleeping Buddha, Zhangye’s claim to fame. The Buddha and his entire temple are propped up and filled with scaffolding. A 2003 earthquake damaged the shrine, and restoration is still in process. All the same, we could easily see his lovely toes and his massive chest blazoned with the swastika. I didn’t know until I came to China that Hitler had co-opted that Buddhist symbol of peace; it still startles me to see it in a sacred setting. Buddha’s eyes are half closed as he drifts toward Nirvana; his full lips tilt in a gentle, dreamy smile. In my mind’s ear, a Chinese quartet was singing Brahms’ lullaby in perfect harmony.

FYI, I’ll append the description from the Gansu provincial government website; forgive them for their English, since they probably have the facts straight. They also get credit for the photo of the Buddha, since photography is not allowed in the temple:

The Temple was initially built in 1098. Historic Literature records that Wei Mie, a Great Master in West Xia State, unearthed a gold statue of sleeping Buddha covered by jade tile, and then built this temple there. The existing structures include the Grand Buddha Hall, Scripture Tower and the Earth Tower. Inside the Grand Buddha Hall lies the sleeping statue of Nirvana Buddha, it is 34.5m long in length with the shoulder of 7.5m wide , foot of 4m and ear of 2m long. Decorated with the golden and colored patterns, it is vivid in lifestyle, looking awake but sleeping in fact. The 10 disciples are sculptured behind the sleeping Buddha, and the 18 arhats standing at the both sides of the porch. On the wall of inside Hall painted the murals about the“Pilgrimage to the West” and the“Classics of Mountains and Rivers”More than 6000 volumes of sutra bestowed by Emperor Ying Zong of Ming Dynasty are kept well, among which the collections written with the gold and silver powder are invaluable. It is said that the Mongolian Emperor Shizu(Kublai) of Yuan Dynasty was born in this Temple. At the end of Southern Song Dynasty, Zhao Xian, i.e Gong Zong, became a monk here to avoid the misfortune after his captivity.

The Sleeping Buddha, Zhangye














Marco Polo Street, Zhangye















Small town life, Zhangye. (The black cargo is coal dust/brick dust pellets used for heating and cooking -- cheap but heavy on the air pollution.)