At Wutai Mountain, we descended after dinner to take a look at the brightly lit town that reclined far below the holy temples. We found a large lake where the mist settled and the sound of the road disappeared. A mother and daughter sold handmade wooden ornaments of the Chinese zodiac and a friendly lady displayed beautiful porcelain tea tables in a back street. These quiet saleswomen were a world away from the street sellers loudly advertising their wares in major tourist spots.
I suggested visiting the walled town in Datong, but we didn’t realize how far away it was from the hotel, and it took what felt like hours to get there. The roads in Datong were wide and clean, and the two girls I asked for directions did their best to understand my Mandarin.
At the entrance to the old town, the air was smoky with barbecue, and someone shone a torch to guide us on our way. An elderly lady confidently walked home down an unlit street, which is unheard of where I come from. The atmosphere of the Datong old town was a mix of authentic charm and disrepair.
I feel that the relics of Shanxi province, the Hanging Monastery, ancient Pingyao and Buddhist temples, are precious, but nothing preserves ancient Shanxi culture like the people who live there and the traditions that they keep alive. This is Shanxi after sundown.
The author is a student from the United Kingdom studying at the Tsinghua University.
The author could be reached at Ghjackson206@outlook.com
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