The hotel probably had the smelliest hotel toilet we had encountered so far, so we were quite happy to be checking out first thing and bypassing the delicious traditional breakfast. First port of call today was the hanging monastery. Unfortunately, because I had been blown away by the sky bridge at Mian Shan it seemed to pale in comparison. But when you consider the age of the monastery, built in 491 and built so high into the cliff edge 50meters above ground, with a viable water line along the rock face, the construction is impressive. I've also realised that, with age, I'm getting less comfortable with heights. Furthermore, Chinese people are definitely shorter because the ‘safety barriers’ were knee height on me. I'm probably being dramatic with that estimation but it makes me feel better about my new found fear.
Visible from the car park were long queues of traffic, waiting behind two crashed coal trucks. The queue started to come back into the car park so it was decided that we would have lunch at the makeshift noodle stalls alongside the car park. Shaved noodles, chilli oil, fried tofu, soy sauce and spring onion. By the time the trucks had been moved on, we were ready to continue towards Datong.
The hotel in Datong, on the surface, was quite flash! If you didn't acknowledge the damp smell in hallways. The smell was actually because the carpets had just been cleaned and left to dry naturally and they squelched under your feet. We also saw the cleaning staff smoking in the non-smoking bedrooms while they cleaned. Hamish and Bex found ash on their bed! But it reminded of an Ibis hotel from the UK.
We had a free afternoon so Annlee decided to go walk inside the city walls of the old city. Datong is the China I expected to see. All the grid work streets were uneven with pot holes. Groups of old ladies sat on walls talking, waving and smiling at us as we meandered through their home turf. Homes were terraced and cube shaped with traditional, red, good luck bunting adorning the cracked wood door frames. Scattered in between the homes were cubes that had open doorways and people aggressively played pai gow, on tables in groups of four, men and women alike, drinking rice wine or Tsingtao. The odd window had a small exterior shelf and were actually what I think were convenience stores. On the corners of the blocks of houses were putrid smelling communal toilets. We didn't venture inside them. The hoards of flies surrounding the door ways told us enough. I'm assuming that meant that the homes didn't have toilets in them. All of the wider main roads lead to a central, massive, gold coloured roofed, temple. It looked like this temple was the only maintained building within the original walls.
On the outside of the walls was a massive shopping centre and market place, with people hollering their deals over gramophones, trying to out-yell their neighbours. We stopped at this smaller stall. Manned by an elderly, toothless, wrinkled, little lady, who encouraged us to sit at her table and stared at us in amazement while we drank beer, smiling and nodding every time we looked at her.
Jason had a arranged that we all go try a local speciality for dinner. It's a large piece of lamb, that is cooked over hot coals, slotted into a hole in the table. You carve the meat yourself off the mounted skewer in the table. If I'm honest, the process was better than the food. I was still so hungry when we finished. (Tobes, you'd have hated it).
Annlee, Hamish, Bex and I went to the supermarket on the way home, grabbed some snacks and beers, and chilled in their room for a while. Bex also showed us this video of ‘binocular football’ which is now firmly in my ‘when I need to laugh’ list on YouTube.