Nanjing
We took another train trip this weekend to Nanjing, which has been the capital of China several times during the country's history. Quite interesting. Saturday we visited the Sun Yat Sen Mausoleum--the only place in China that displays the Taiwanese (Kuomintang) flag. It's actually a mural on the ceiling of two of the rooms in the mausoleum. Sun is a very important figure in Chinese history. A Google search will give you a lot more information, but basically Sun fought for the downfall of the Qing dynasty, was China's first president for a short time in 1911, founded the organization that would become the Kuomintang Party (KMT), and is generally revered by both the mainlanders and the Taiwanese, as odd as this seems. Probably his most important contribution to politics was his "Three People's Principles": nationalism, democracy, and people's livelihood. Apparently the Chinese see no irony in posting this all over Sun's memorial.
Sunday we went first to the Nanjing Massacre Memorial. In late 1937, during the early stages of WWII in Asia--what is called the Japanese War of Aggression around here--the KMT government fled their capital in Nanjing for Chunking in the middle-western part of the country. The city fell to the Japanese in December, and Japanese army launched a massacre intended to shock all of China into submission. For the next six weeks, Japanese troops carried out systematic burning, rape, and killing of civilians as well as disarmed soldiers. Needless to say, I wasn't expecting a cheerful scene at the memorial; nonetheless, I left feeling uneasy. Not because several of the exhibits were so graphic, although they were--in one place they actually dug up a mass grave and left it exposed, with close-ups and descriptions of particularly gruesome pathology reports--it was more the general tone of the place. Dr. Wilson asked me as we were leaving what I thought, and I told him I was fighting my (instinctive?) reaction; the memorial just didn't seem very respectful. I couldn't really explain it very well, but I have since decided I was fighting cynicism. I liked the way Dr. Wilson put it (characteristically understated): "Well, it's less than subtle." Then, "and highly politicized.” Yes, I guess that’s it. It’s obvious that there is a battle going on over how history is interpreted in Asia. One of us asked Dr. Wilson what he thought about the History book controversy; he replied that one Japanese official told him that the Japanese were willing to apologize for their country’s militant past, but that Beijing was unwilling to accept the apology. Japan does not want to give China another opportunity to rub their faces in the dirt and demand more reparations. This sounds plausible to me. Despite the claims all over the memorial that its purpose was to “promote peace,” Beijing seems to be using, and possibly encouraging, anti-Japanese sentiment as a political tool. Just my $0.002 yuan.
After the memorial, we went to a Confucian temple. Or I should say, we thought we were going to a Confucian temple. Just like in Suzhou, we thought we were going to a Daoist temple. In both cases, the temples had been turned into shopping centers, resplendent with soo-vih-neers, neon, and concession stands. Lovely. Although to be absolutely truthful, I can’t say that I was disappointed, personally. I went to a Buddhist temple in Beijing, and I was not looking forward to repeating that very hot, incense-filled, and consequently lightheaded experience. I can, however, understand why these experiences were a little troubling to those in our group who were expecting a religious experience. The comparison is too easy, but I have to say it—money can indeed be a god.
After a very interesting day, we went back to the hotel to grab our backpacks and a quick drink before heading to the train station. It was pretty hot (Nanjing is considered one of China’s “Four Ovens” apparently), so we didn’t want to get to the train station too early and have to wait in the sun. Well, we cut it a little close. When we got in the taxi, Christina told our driver where we were going; he asked what time our train left, and when we told him he just started laughing. “5:31?! Impossible! Teehehehee! You won’t make it. You should have left yourself at least an hour—this is rush hour! Hahahaheehehe! Of course I’ll drive fast! I’ll do my best for you!!” Then periodically, “Teehehehee! 5:31!” or “you only have 13 minutes….tahaheehee!” and “I’m hurrying! We have to be safe, you know. 5:31!!” We made it to the train station with about 7 minutes to go, and rushed to the platform as per our helpful driver’s suggestions, hoping the whole time that the rest of our group had managed to get a taxi—preferably one whose driver was not afraid to step on it. We made it, and a couple of minutes later the rest of our group joined us. Apparently, their driver had been more concerned about the cat sleeping in his lap as he drove than getting them to the station in time, but they made it nonetheless. Thankfully.
Sunday we went first to the Nanjing Massacre Memorial. In late 1937, during the early stages of WWII in Asia--what is called the Japanese War of Aggression around here--the KMT government fled their capital in Nanjing for Chunking in the middle-western part of the country. The city fell to the Japanese in December, and Japanese army launched a massacre intended to shock all of China into submission. For the next six weeks, Japanese troops carried out systematic burning, rape, and killing of civilians as well as disarmed soldiers. Needless to say, I wasn't expecting a cheerful scene at the memorial; nonetheless, I left feeling uneasy. Not because several of the exhibits were so graphic, although they were--in one place they actually dug up a mass grave and left it exposed, with close-ups and descriptions of particularly gruesome pathology reports--it was more the general tone of the place. Dr. Wilson asked me as we were leaving what I thought, and I told him I was fighting my (instinctive?) reaction; the memorial just didn't seem very respectful. I couldn't really explain it very well, but I have since decided I was fighting cynicism. I liked the way Dr. Wilson put it (characteristically understated): "Well, it's less than subtle." Then, "and highly politicized.” Yes, I guess that’s it. It’s obvious that there is a battle going on over how history is interpreted in Asia. One of us asked Dr. Wilson what he thought about the History book controversy; he replied that one Japanese official told him that the Japanese were willing to apologize for their country’s militant past, but that Beijing was unwilling to accept the apology. Japan does not want to give China another opportunity to rub their faces in the dirt and demand more reparations. This sounds plausible to me. Despite the claims all over the memorial that its purpose was to “promote peace,” Beijing seems to be using, and possibly encouraging, anti-Japanese sentiment as a political tool. Just my $0.002 yuan.
After the memorial, we went to a Confucian temple. Or I should say, we thought we were going to a Confucian temple. Just like in Suzhou, we thought we were going to a Daoist temple. In both cases, the temples had been turned into shopping centers, resplendent with soo-vih-neers, neon, and concession stands. Lovely. Although to be absolutely truthful, I can’t say that I was disappointed, personally. I went to a Buddhist temple in Beijing, and I was not looking forward to repeating that very hot, incense-filled, and consequently lightheaded experience. I can, however, understand why these experiences were a little troubling to those in our group who were expecting a religious experience. The comparison is too easy, but I have to say it—money can indeed be a god.
After a very interesting day, we went back to the hotel to grab our backpacks and a quick drink before heading to the train station. It was pretty hot (Nanjing is considered one of China’s “Four Ovens” apparently), so we didn’t want to get to the train station too early and have to wait in the sun. Well, we cut it a little close. When we got in the taxi, Christina told our driver where we were going; he asked what time our train left, and when we told him he just started laughing. “5:31?! Impossible! Teehehehee! You won’t make it. You should have left yourself at least an hour—this is rush hour! Hahahaheehehe! Of course I’ll drive fast! I’ll do my best for you!!” Then periodically, “Teehehehee! 5:31!” or “you only have 13 minutes….tahaheehee!” and “I’m hurrying! We have to be safe, you know. 5:31!!” We made it to the train station with about 7 minutes to go, and rushed to the platform as per our helpful driver’s suggestions, hoping the whole time that the rest of our group had managed to get a taxi—preferably one whose driver was not afraid to step on it. We made it, and a couple of minutes later the rest of our group joined us. Apparently, their driver had been more concerned about the cat sleeping in his lap as he drove than getting them to the station in time, but they made it nonetheless. Thankfully.
posted by Mike and Jean Anne at 7:58 AM
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