Jinan
by Lori Ann White Shaolin Instructor

My introduction to China was a day-long train trip from Beijing to Jinan, in Shandong Province, during the fall of 1991. That train ride, and the subsequent days spent in Jinan, form a foundation of images on which I can still depend; though only last year I finally managed to visit China again, when memories come, like as not they're of the Chinese countryside as seen from the train, with farmers driving donkey-drawn carts and corn drying on the roofs of red brick buildings; the Yellow River, flowing broad and slow beneath our train; the flower-bedecked streets of Jinan, spruced up for the coming celebration of National Day; an afternoon walk up Thousand Buddha Mountain to see my first Buddhist temple and smell the incense I had heretofore only smelled at our kwoon; the gymnasium where I and my teammates competed on a wide, lonely stretch of green carpet; the plentiful moon cakes in the dining room of the Nanjiao Hotel, left over from the recent Autumn Festival; and the gardens behind the hotel, where, granted a rest during a Praying Mantis seminar, we found--a praying mantis. He was big and bright green, and we watched him for a time and practiced fashioning our hands after his claws. An auspicious omen indeed, we thought.

I treasure those memories and more, yet when I first learned of the proposed itinerary, I was most excited by the Beijing and Hong Kong portions of the trip. I had heard of Beijing--the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, and other sights that were synonymous in my mind with China. And Hong Kong--I felt I already knew the city after watching Jackie Chan and Chow Yun Fat blast their way through its streets. What was in Jinan?

To begin, the ostensible reason for our journey was in Jinan: the Jinan International Traditional Wushu Competition. I and several others from the Wing Lam Kung Fu School were to compete. Though organizers were hoping to establish the tournament as an annual or biannual event, it was the first such competition in Jinan, and we had no inkling how well-attended it might be, or what level of competition we could expect.

Next, some trips and sight-seeing were planned. Jinan is not far from Mount Tai, one of the five holy mountains of China, where in days past the Emperor would ascend to the summit where gods lived and make sacrifices to the earth and sky, and Qufu, the birthplace of Confucius. There were also some sites within the city, such as Daming Lake and Thousand Buddha Mountain.

As it turned out, we had little time for sightseeing and exploring, because the most important thing Jinan had to offer us was kung fu. The area that now makes up Shandong Province is old in martial history. The marsh made famous in Outlaws of the Marsh is in Shandong Province. Mount Song and the Shaolin Temple are in neighboring Henan Province.

The tournament was a four-day affair, beginning with opening ceremonies the first evening, followed by two days of competition, then finished with an excursion to Mount Tai and an awards banquet. During those two days of competition, when we were not actually competing we had the opportunity to take seminars from and watch demonstrations by masters who had been invited to the tournament. These were not Beijing-trained wushu experts. These were men and women who had learned the old, hard way. They'd studied and practiced with their whole lives, going underground during the Cultural Revolution, practicing in secret, not letting their styles die.

I and several others from my group took a grueling Praying Mantis seminar from a tall, slender master with long, whip-like arms and legs. Others of our group learned two-handed straight sword and an esoteric Long Sleeve style--all styles not easily found in the US.

The competition itself was also an excellent experience. It was, indeed, truly international in scope, with teams from the US, China, Canada, Venezuela, Spain, Estonia, and Latvia, and since then it has increased in scope. We met some wonderful fellow martial artists, all with the common language of kung fu. My only complaint was that the competition for the women was a bit sparse, but I trust that's changed in the intervening eight years.
Actually, we'd all been reaping the benefits of our decision to compete long before we went to Jinan. There is nothing like the thought of performing kung fu in its birthplace to motivate practice.

Though all this would have guaranteed the trip of a lifetime, the opportunities we had to do some sightseeing also remain treasured memories. Thousand Buddha Mountain, with its street performers and temples, monks and odd exhibits (a mummified woman in a room full of money), was my real introduction to the conflicts, concessions and compromises that make up China--the state gets tourist dollars, and the people can still worship. Whether or not everyone is happy, I don't know.

The excursion to Taishan, or Mount Tai, also remains with me. Unfortunately we didn't have time to climb its fabled seven thousand steps--we took a bus most of the way up the mountain, a beautiful drive that reminded us Californians of the Sierras, then took a tram to the summit. It was a bright, cool, autumn day, windy at the top, and we wandered through the holy places and looked out across the eternal landscape. Next time, I hope to climb the steps.

Jinan is not Beijing, with its walls and palaces, temples and tombs. It is not Xian, with its terra cotta soldiers. It is not bustling Shanghai, or cold Harbin, or Hangzhou with its silk and gardens. It is not turbulent Hong Kong, or camel rides in Urumqi. But it is, no less than the others, China, and perhaps more valuable in its very lack of appeal as a tourist haven. After travelling there I felt I'd met the people, not merely seen the sights. I don't think I'd trade my experiences in Jinan for all the terra cotta soldiers in China.