Pingdingshan (平頂山), China

2024-03-19

A friend invited me to his hometown of Pingdingshan, Henan Province, China, to attend his child's "full month party" (celebrating a child's one month birthday, essentially). Because I got the invitation, I decided to go. Flew into Wuhan Airport, took a five hour high-speed rail to get to Pingdingshan West station, and then finally arrived. The entire journey took about 8 hours.

I am writing this after COVID-19, and I can understand why authorities were quick to lockdown Wuhan. It's essentially the center station for the country, with many trains and plans passing through it. When I arrived at the high speed rail station, it was packed. The kind of packed where there are no seats, and people standing everywhere. When there are that many people, everyone feels anonymous, and so do I. I blend into the crowd, shuffle into my queue, and board my train.

The train ride spans miles. Across these miles, I see small settlements nested in the ridges of mountains, and out in plains. Despite the development story that is China, I still see many small communities tucked into the mountains. Much to the contrast of Wuhan station, the density also gets less, and less. By the time I arrive at Pingdingshan West Station, only a handful of passengers (a handful in China is about 400?) get off to an empty station. It feels like a new station, or a route that was overplanned for. But, like many of these rural stations, they are far out from other city centers. And, they have a massive veranda as you walk out, that spans maybe 300 meters, before you reach the actual road. Pretty typical of Chinese infrastructure.

My friend picks me up and takes me around town. We stop by several shops, eating some local delicacies (I forget to take pictures), and he checks me into the hotel. On first impression, the town's center is noticeably smaller in population and lower in height than the megacities. The center is also mostly situated around a "cross" of two streets, and not much more. It feels like a small town in the Chinese sense, which means most of the infrastructure is there, but the smallness of the town still "breathes through" the infrastructure. Everyone is speaking in Henan dialect, and I barely hear Putonghua. Many of the shopfronts are small and dimly lit, but there are people sitting and eating inside. Without a doubt, people are smoking inside, and there is a small trash bin at each table. Most of the tables are not clean. There are a lot of puddles outside, mostly with dirty water, and some pushcarts of food. You can park essentially anywhere off the road that are not marked with double lines (and, there are few places marked with them). There are many cars -- many of them electric -- but the roads are not maintained in a clean state; however, they are of good quality. It's cold outside, so there's not much going on outdoors. I can't really describe it much more than that. It just feels like your standard tier 2 city. Feels a bit more natural, less contrived than any city you would go to.

The next day, my friend invited me to his house. He's from a family of farmers, so he wants to show me where he grew up. He says "I want to show you just how poor people can be," as a joke, but presumably because he thinks I come from a place very different than this. Indeed, there are small, shanty houses which people still live in, but it does not look nearly as run down as some smaller American city houses or shantytowns in the developing world. When we arrive to the front of his house, his dog greets us with a wagging tail, and his dad is standing outside, welcoming me. He lives in a two storey house, both of equal size, with several rooms attached. It looks newly built and clearly more developed than some smaller houses in the village. It's very comfortable and tidy. When we walk outside, he tells me that one plot of land is left for him to build on, and so his family owns the land as well.

They are also great cooks. Both his mother and father spend time preparing a meal for us. It feels like I'm back with my family with a home cooked meal. His family exudes that Chinese hospitality, letting me eat first, and also that modesty, saying their "cooking skills are limited so this is it". It's a buffet of about 10 dishes. Since both of his parents are speaking in Hunan dialect, I try my hand at having a conversation with them, only to find ourselves having our own conversations; my friend laughs on the side while translating.

In his city, there's not much to see in terms of famous sites. It reminds me of the suburbs in California. There's a park, a lake, or some dam, and we go visit them. When we leave his house, he randomly picks up two of his friends along the way in the village. They are all chatting away in Henan dialect, and I can maybe understand 20% of it. We end up stopping by a lake and a dam of some sorts. There's not much going on there, nor are there many people. The ones there are engaged in some sort of mundane activity -- fishing, just sitting eating a sandwich. It's very quiet, and I enjoy the solace. In this corner of the world, it seems like one could just hide.

However, if you drive further out, there are a lot of gems. Asia's largest gold Buddha statue is located in Henan province, so we drive there to take a look. The drive is quiet, with few cars on the roads. The roads are in great condition, suggesting either that they're new or underutilised. Whatever the reason, it's nice and sunny, and the feeling of driving down an open road feels free.

Instead of hiking up to the Buddha, we decide to hike another mountain nearby caled Mount Yao. Since my friend is from the province, he knows the people working at the ticket booth, and gets us free gondola tickets to begin the hike. The gondola ride is about 10 minutes, and it's very quiet. It's beautiful up here. The mountain and the path is frosted over, and the further in we walk, the less people we see. There's a nice chill in the air, but the sun keeps us warm. By the time we reach the end (only 2 kilometers), it feels like a small accomplishment atop this massive mountain. I look around. Mountains on all sides; a grandiose beauty I haven't seen for a long time. I'm glad I came.

I take the same high speed rail back. When I go to Pingdingshan station, it's nearly empty. And, as I get to my transit stop before heading to Wuhan, I walk up to a beautiful sunset. It's still quiet. The silence is only broken after I re-enter Wuhan high speed rail -- the center of China.

Oh. Turns out, he got the baby full month party date wrong. I did see the baby, though. And, I also had an opportunity to see my friend as a father. He is still the same.