So, let’s just say it—we “conquered” the western end of the Great Wall after traveling 26 hours from Stamford, CT. There were no dragons, and no Mongols, just diarrhea and expensive hats. We climbed, we sweated, we smoked herbal cigarettes given to us by random strangers, and at the end we waved at a Chinese flag like we were wannabe conquerors. Good enough, mission completed? Well, yes, the end. The mess it took to get there? That’s the other story.
Bargains That Weren’t Bargains
At some point, picture me arguing over a price for a retched hat with Cyrillic letters, and a skull (wait, what??), and the Star of David. None of that made sense. She was asking for $30, I tried to get it down to $10 and I ended up losing the negotiation anyways. My buddy tried to save my dignity, and it just made me look worse. Final price: dignity plus one ugly hat.
The SIM Card Drama
Don’t bother with Google Maps. Don’t even think of using WeChat. Without a SIM card from China, you are half a caveman. Foreigners? Nope. We pleaded, we explained, we showed our passports, and all we received were shrugs from the store. I don’t know if this is some twisted version of Chinese humor, but the government thought it was a great idea to keep tourists off the internet, and that means you can’t purchase anything, like a snack or the cheap Rolex that someone just shoved in front of you. Seriously standing in front of a gentleman exchanging my money for fake watch, only to say, “Sorry bro, I can’t pay you for that watch because the state doesn’t allow me to.”
When We Saw Toilets Before The Great Wall
Toilets. Grim toilets. Toilets that make one question civilization. No paper. No soap. All the flies. I learned the hard way when I was foolish enough to think I could wash off the sprinkle spray from my foot in their sink. I was so embarrassed when an older man saw me. That turned into our awkward opening line to talk about Dallas, Japan, and women. Painfully awkward, but sometimes you start friendships in strange bathrooms.
Communist Poetry on Concrete
As I walked through the province of Gansu, I felt like I was walking through a huge, open-air classroom. Billboards shouted words like “Harmony” and “Civilization.” Posters showed smiling people smiling as they saluted their red flag. For a moment, it looked like a Disney ride, except instead of Mickey Mouse, it was Marx with neon lights.
From the Desert to Windmills
What surprised me the most? Not the wall. Not the police. But the endless rows of windmills spinning in the desert like some futuristic sci-fi movie. You can say whatever you want about China: dirty air, too much surveillance, no freedom—but they are putting a lot of money into renewable energy. There were hundreds of windmills as far as my eyes could see. That didn’t jive with the image I had of a “polluted wasteland.”
Coffee and Other Disasters
And while I am at it, let me get this off my chest: the coffee on that train tasted as if they brewed it from engine oil. I took a sip and promised myself to never drink coffee again. Combine that with smokers who were no longer allowed to smoke on Chinese trains, and you have some restless chain-smokers walking by the aisles like caged animals in a zoo.
The Climb That Almost Killed Me
The western end of the wall was not a romantic stroll, but a steep, narrow road that was definitely not made for Western waistlines, and the ancient bricks? Please—it was a modern rebuild of sorts. Disney faming. Nevertheless, after a night of toilet woes, I plodded on—each step a punishment from the hands of Confucius himself. Somewhere between the perspiration, nausea, and random locals encouraging me on, I dragged myself to the vantage point.
Conversations on the Wall
But there were some cute moments—like a Chinese student practicing her first English cuss words, thanks to us. Or the grandpa with fake watches when no one was able to afford. Or a taxi driver who was a woman (which was surprising, apparently). Or locals asking if America was the “oldest country in the world.” There, of course, I nodded.
Our journey began, not at the Great Wall, but with paranoia. Leaving Xinjiang meant fewer checkpoints, fewer surveillance cameras, fewer soldiers lurking in the dark. Or at least that was what we imagined. Then came the experience of toilets, all the flies, the foot bath experience, the lukewarm coffee, the SIM card fiasco, the propaganda posters, failing to bargain, and the killer hike. We really did stand at the west end of the Great Wall—pretending for a moment that we were guests with explorer status.
If you are looking for the “authentic” Great Wall experience, skip Beijing. Skip the postcard views. Instead, go west to Gansu. Get sick. Argue over the hats. Attempt to buy a fake Rolex, and fail. Then, after the toilets and shitty coffee experience, hike up the wall. Because misery makes great stories sometimes.
