Who’s your googleganger?

Googleganger!

Isn’t that an awesome word? Okay, I admit it; I’m a word nerd, but you’ve just got to love the sound of that one!

As part of getting back on track, I’ve walked 8.5 miles (almost 14 km) on the treadmill over the past nine days. In addition to enjoying scenic pathways in Hawaii, Egypt and along Italy’s Amalfi coast via virtual walk DVDs, I’ve also gone back to watching my video course, The Secret Life of Words: English Words and Their Origins. That’s where I came across the word, googleganger.

Voted the 2007 Most Creative Word of the Year by the American Dialect Society, (yes, there are organizations for word nerds like me!) a googleganger is a person with your name who shows up when you Google yourself. It’s an adaptation of the word, doppelganger, meaning a ghostly double of a living person or someone who looks eerily like you but isn’t a twin.

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Believe it or not, I don’t have a googleganger. There are no other Elaine DeBocks to be found on the internet! The closest is Lisa Elaine Debock, a lawyer in New York state.

Most of the DeBocks in North America are descendants of Joseph Leopold DeBock who left his homeland, Belgium, as a young man of 25 and settled in the United States in 1870. Some branches of the family have since dropped the capital B so it’s possible that Lisa Elaine is a distant relative.

If I really want a googleganger, however, I can find plenty of them by searching my maiden name which is much more common. The best known among those is a 1950s film star!

So, who is your googleganger? You have Googled your name haven’t you?

Dinosaur adventure

At the beginning of June, when we were still in China, Richard received an email from our then three-year-old grandson, Sam, transcribed by his Dad.

“I want to take you to the dinosaur museum with us when we go to your house.”

Sam and his family, who live in Vancouver, are here to spend Christmas with us and today we made the long awaited trip to the dinosaur museum. Located a few kilometres from Drumheller in the heart of the Canadian badlands, the Royal Tyrrell Museum of Palaeontology is one of Alberta’s primary tourist attractions as well as a world class centre of palaeontological research.

The boys were wildly excited about today’s adventure. When our daughter-in-law, Robin, woke them early this morning, two-year-old Nate jumped out of bed and announced loudly, “We’re going to the dinosaur museum! I need my shoes on!”

It was -29ºC (-20ºF) and dark when we piled into the vehicles and began the almost three hour drive.

Though we’ve visited many times, the museum never ceases to impress us. There are amazing dioramas

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and faces that only a mother could love

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but it’s the bones that I find the most astounding, especially the towering skeletons.

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Sharing another of our province’s highlights with Sheila was fun. There she is, knee high to a dinosaur!

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Keeping up with an exited two-year-old was challenging though. There he goes!

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The boys were done by noon so after lunch in the museum cafeteria, Matt and Robin headed homeward with them while Richard, Sheila and I spent a while longer at the museum and then drove through the valley to the hoodoos, sandstone towers that formed when softer rock eroded away. By this time, the temperature had climbed to -18ºC (0ºF) so we ventured out of the warm car for a quick walk amongst the stately pillars.

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Our last stop before leaving the valley was Bernie & the Boys Bistro in the town of Drumheller. Sheila wasn’t sure if she’d ever had a milkshake and Bernie’s has 71 flavours to choose from! She chose blueberry, a flavour that’s become a favourite of hers since arriving in Canada, and I had chocolate raspberry truffle! Definitely a delicious way to end to a great adventure!

Remembrance

Imagine looking out the window of the family farmhouse at Seba Beach, Alberta and seeing the military vehicle pull into the yard. Pearl’s heart must have pounded as the men in uniform came up the walk with a telegram in hand. It was 1944 and three of her sons were in the midst of battle in Europe. Which one was it? Had she lost one of them?

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Glen was my father-in-law. He enrolled in the army in October of 1943 and was deployed in early January of the following year. He was just 18 years old.

We don’t know a lot about his wartime experiences. Like many who saw the gruesome face of war firsthand, he didn’t talk much about what he went through over there. We’ve only been able to piece together bits and pieces from the few things he did say and more recently, from his military record which our son requested from the Canadian Archives in Ottawa. We do know that he once spent several days in a foxhole behind enemy lines waiting to be rescued and we know that he probably suffered from what is now known as post traumatic stress disorder. According to Mother, for the rest of his life he would occasionally wake up cowering on the floor beside the bed. He was back in that foxhole terrified that, at any moment, an enemy soldier would find him and his life would be over.

Father had been in Europe for only nine months when he was seriously wounded and unable to return to action. A second telegram dated October 19, 1944 brought the incorrect news that the nature of his injury was “bomb fragment wounds to face and head.” A letter dated November 27, 1944 contained more accurate information.

“I am directed to inform you that official information has now been received from Canadian Military Headquarters Overseas advising that when your son, M-8247 Pte. Glen Marion DeBock, was wounded in action on the 6th October 1944, he suffered a bullet wound to the right orbit into the sphenoid sinus resulting in the loss of the right eye.”

He was lucky to be alive. Imagine taking a bullet to the head and surviving! He spent the remainder of 1944 in hospitals in the UK followed by another three months in Shaughnessy Hospital in Vancouver before finally being discharged with a prosthetic eye.  Life would never be the same for this young farm boy, however. He often suffered excruciating headaches and like many of his compatriots, he took to drowning his vivid memories in alcohol. It wasn’t until the final years of his life that he gave up drinking and found peace in a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

On November 11, as we pause to remember, we give thanks for so many young boys who went off to war with high ideals and ended up paying for our freedoms with their lives; many making the ultimate sacrifice and others, like Father, surviving with shattered dreams and broken bodies. In reality, these are the men who gave us freedom of religion, freedom of speech, and all the other freedoms that we take for granted in this great land.

Let us never glorify war but let us remember those who were willing to go and fight on our behalf and those who continue to do so.

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Letters from the past, final installment

As I continue to read through the letters from my father’s university classmates, I feel as though I’m getting to know some of “the boys” personally. They’re becoming real to me through the words they wrote more than 60 years ago!

I especially love John’s wacky sense of humour. Like many of “the boys”, he obviously enjoyed teasing my Dad about his height. Shortly after my oldest brother’s birth, he wrote “Congratulations Old Man! (Dad was all of 27 at the time.) Please share these best wishes with your wife. The few minutes of thought I have had time for since receiving your announcement have made me realize what a brave girl your wife is – why the chance that she might be the mother of an almost infinite length of child – I can almost see her wondering if when he leaves her for his first day of school if the roles will not be in the somewhat reversed position of CHILD looking lovingly down on her and patting her on the head. Ah! Well! since I was not able to get to your wedding and warn her of these things I suppose I must carry my guilt with me these long years.”

A few months later, Oz, who was by that time living on the island of Curacao in what was then known as the Netherlands West Indies, wrote “Our congratulations on your recent expansion from partnership to company. I know without asking that Don Jr. is the best six-month old baby that you have ever seen. When he gets to the walking stage, may I suggest a small weight on his head lest he have any notions of growing taller than his ‘old man.'”

As time went by, wives, children and family vacations began to crop up more and more often in the letters. In August 1951, Gordon wrote “The only ‘big’ news, at least from my point of view, is that I am going to be married at Christmas to a girl I met at Oxford. From your letter, I see that you and most of our classmates are miles ahead of me in this sort of activity but better late than never.”

In 1955, shortly after the birth of my younger sister, we moved into a waterfront house in Powell River. The beach became our playground and I could hear the sound of the surf from my bedroom window at night. My father must have shared this news with his classmates as John comments “The new house sounds most intriguing – view, beach, swimming in April – even if it is salt water. When we visit you I will join you in a dip as long as you can provide a good garden sprinkler to wash away the crystals of NaCl.” (They were chemical engineers, after all!) John and his family did make that promised visit but not until the summer of 1959. A letter written in April of that year fills my father in on their holiday plans. I vaguely remember a family with two children visiting us but I was only six and I didn’t recall who they were until I read this letter.

I’ve learned more about my father through these letters too. In September 1950, John congratulated him on achieving “the status of professional engineer – the first of Chem ’46 and the second of Science ’46, I believe – very good.” Dad didn’t talk much about his work while we were growing up so I was completely unaware of the fact that he published research papers but in August 1951, Gordon wrote “Congratulations on your publication. I can see that you are thriving in this Engineering business.” and a short note from Norm in 1958 says “Many thanks for your gift of a copy of your paper on groundwood from sawdust.” That shows how little I really know about my father’s work; I had to look up the meaning of the word, groundwood!

The final letter in the packet was written in January 1963, almost 17 years after my father and “the boys” graduated from UBC. Though letters became fewer and further between as years went by, I’m sure that some of them continued to correspond for many more years but those letters have been forever lost. How thankful I am that, as I sorted through everything in my parents’ apartment, this little pile of correspondence caught my eye and I decided to set it aside for a closer look when the job was done!

More letters from the past

Though I’m not sure if I ever met him, I remember the unusual name Oz from my childhood days. His Italian surname had a musical ring to it. His early letters to my Dad were fascinating. On July 20, 1947, he wrote “I’m just writing a short note to tell you that I’m on the move again, this time to jolly old England. The okay to hire me came over last week and before I knew it, they had reservations for me on the Empress of Canada, sailing this Saturday. In case Dorothy didn’t mention it in her letter, its Shell Oil that I’m to work for. I’ll train for a year in England and then go out to various refineries in the far corners of the world. I think that I’ll enjoy the work because the more I learn about oil, the better I like it. We certainly have not enjoyed our brief stay in the ‘fair’ city of Toronto. In fact, our opinion of it is quite unprintable. Vancouver has grown in our estimation by leaps and bounds. We have decided to retire in Sechelt as there is obviously nowhere on earth half as nice. Dorothy is returning there now, because Shell has a nasty rule that says wives cannot accompany newly-hired husbands for approximately 3 months. Therefore we must part till about October. However, we decided that the job was worth a little inconvenience, so Dorothy leaves for home on Thursday.”

A second letter written from London two months later told of an upcoming move to a refinery near Liverpool and gave a fascinating glimpse into life in post war England. “One of the poor features was that Dorothy couldn’t come with me when I came over, but the company will bring her to me as soon as I get settled at the refinery, i.e. about the end of November if all goes smoothly. Actually, it’s just as well because it will give us a chance to get fully prepared for what will probably be a very tough winter. I keep Dorothy posted on all shortages here so that when she comes, she can bring along whatever can’t be obtained here, and believe me it makes a good-sized list. The clothing ration is pitifully small, and what one can get is poor quality and high priced. No doubt you’ve been reading about our crisis. It’s been going on for some time now without any noticeable improvement and from what I can see, the people here are in for a hell of a tough time for years to come.” All was not woe, however. He went on to say “In the meantime, I’m enjoying myself and making full use of my opportunity to be in a huge place like London, although so far its the country around L that has impressed me most. You just can’t imagine the orderly beauty of it.”

Comments about my father’s love life continued to crop up in the letters from his classmates. In December 1947, Gordon wrote “You probably also know that the Dowdings now have a son. This sort of thing will probably become more frequent now.” and a little later in the letter, “Furthermore, how deep are your roots in Powell River now? Nobody is supposed to be able to stay single there that long you know.”

The letters provide other glimpses into my father’s life before I knew him. In February 1948, Rhys wrote “You really seem to be enjoying things. I can just see Skip Stewart at the helm putting up and down the coast – god it sounds interesting.” Some of my earliest memories are of being out on my father’s boat. In the early days of their marriage, my parents spent lots of time touring the coast on it but they sold it when I was about six. By that time, the family had grown to include four children and there wasn’t time or money to keep it up.

I laughed out loud when I read the opening of John’s letter to my father written on October 25, 1948, less than a month before my parents’ wedding. You may remember that it was John who threatened to sue my father if he left his bachelor state behind. “Goodbye forever! Donald Stewart, Bachelor of Applied Science. Welcome! Donald Stewart, married and in Enforced Silence. Seriously – Congratulations old man. I am very happy for you.” He went on to express his regret that he would not be able to get time off work to attend the wedding and act as my father’s best man. Another classmate, who was also working in Powell River at the time, took his place.

Over a year went by before the next letter arrived. “The boys” were obviously settling into their careers. Some were marrying and starting families. Regular contact with their university buddies began to dwindle but I do know that Dad kept in touch with a few of them for many, many years and that he attended a reunion of his few remaining classmates last year.

This seems like a good place to take a break as there are other things I must attend to around here but there are still more than a dozen letters to be read so you can expect a final installment sometime soon!

Letters from the past

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Among the many interesting and strange things that we found as we cleaned out my parents’ apartment in Vancouver was a little pile of handwritten letters addressed to my father. The earliest ones dated back to 1946, the year he graduated from the University of British Columbia as a chemical engineer and moved to Powell River to begin his career working in the research lab at the local pulp and paper mill.

stampI first decided to keep the letters because I knew that the postage stamps would interest my brother, an avid stamp collector. Many of them are 4 cent stamps bearing the image of King George VI. Later letters, written in the 1950s, bear 5 cent stamps with the picture of a very young Queen Elizabeth II on them. A few, written on thin air mail paper, have foreign stamps.stamp 2

After looking at the stamps and the postmarked dates, I began to wonder about the letters themselves. Who wrote them? What did they say and what glimpses might they give of life in a different time? Some people might not approve of me reading my father’s mail but I couldn’t help myself!

This evening, I opened the first letter. “Dear Lofty,” it began. I hadn’t heard my father’s university nickname for years! As a six foot six inch bean pole, it suited him well. The letters started shortly after his college graduation and came from his classmates who had scattered across the country in search of employment. They were obviously a close knit group who referred to one another as “the boys”. They contain lots of job talk that only a fellow engineer would understand but in between there are fascinating glimpses into life in the late 1940s. Come along and snoop with me!

On June 2, 1946, George, who went to work at B.C. Plywoods in Vancouver, wrote “My salary will be $175 to start. ” On August 20, he wrote that the men in the plant were receiving raises as the result of a strike and his monthly salary was going up to $190. Others reported similar incomes. Of course, the cost of living was similarly low compared to today’s prices. On July 3, Rhys wrote from Hamilton, Ontario saying that he hoped to move to a cheaper boarding house soon. “At present I am paying $1.50 per day for room alone,” he complained.

In early August of that same year, Steve described the butyl (synthetic rubber) plant in Sarnia, Ontario where he landed a job doing research. “The plant is the real McCoy. It’s a 50 million dollar, 185 acre affair. It turns out about 1 000 000 pounds a month of various types of G.R.S. and is one of the 3 butyl plants in existence. It’s design and construction is the best, and you can get any equipment you want for research. The boys taking their Masters would be green with envy if they could see some of it. Control of temperature to 1/50 of a degree is commonplace, and absolutely essential in this field.”

John, who went to Trail, BC wrote, “I am in the Zinc Plant research lab on steady day shift with Saturday afternoon and Sundays off – the hours are 8 to 4:30 with lunch from 12 to 1.” In a later letter, he complained about “some guy from the Central Research who got his job by marrying the right person’s daughter.”

I chuckled when Rhys asked in his second letter, “How is your love life progressing? I hear Powell River is quite the place for an old wolf like you.” My father was 23 years old at the time and if I’m not mistaken, the letter was written the week he met my mother as it was dated October 30 and they met at a Halloween party!

Less than three months later another letter from John said, “Your statement about finding PR not so entirely devoid of young women as at first you thought has me worried – steady old man – who will be left in our bachelor league if you fail me now? You can’t do this to me, Stewart! I’ll sue you for breach of promise – that’s what I’ll do.” I wish John’s letters included his last name. I wonder if this is the same John who later built a cabin on the shore just north of Powell River; a cabin where we stayed several times and made many wonderful memories.

Not all of “the boys” wrote as intimately as John did. Though Norm wrote three pages all about his job at the Development Lab of the Paint and Varnish Division of CIL in Toronto, he slipped in just one sentence of a more personal nature. “About myself, I suppose you know that I was married on June 1st.” No details; not even her name!

Jim wrote a long and interesting letter shortly after the New Year. He was at the University of Toronto “instructing in Chemistry, first year general and second year organic.” He was working 19 hours a week for $180 a month and though he didn’t plan to stay there permanently, he clearly enjoyed what he was doing. “The organic lab is Home Ec – 60 girls!” he reported. I was surprised to learn that there were that many girls studying science in the 1940s.

In the same letter, writing about a visit to Princeton University, Jim says, “I also had the great pleasure of seeing (at very close quarters) our good friend Albert Einstein of Relativity fame. He looks just like his pictures. I recognized him first about two blocks away by the terrific halo of white hair.”

Jim clearly got around as he also wrote about a visit to New York, a city that obviously didn’t impress him. “What a complete nuthouse,” he wrote. “There’s no real life there, just pure existence if the taxis don’t hit you, and just pure existentialism if they do hit you. The civil engineers certainly had a heyday in putting New York together. What a city! Nothing but city! It cost me $1.20 to go to the top of the Empire State Building. Reminded me of being on Crown Mountain back home. The subways are an engineer’s nightmare, but still very efficient; you can disappear from sunlight all day for just 5 cents!”

There are 35 letters in all, carefully numbered in my father’s hand. Most of them were written in the late 1940s and early 1950s but the last one was postmarked January 4, 1963. It’s clearly going to take me more than one evening to sift through them all and more than one post to share their secrets. I hope you’ll come back for more!

Taking a break

After a mostly sleepless night worrying about how to deal with everything in my parents’ apartment, we decided to take a break today and go on an adventure with our grandsons, Sam and Nate.

Vancouver is enjoying a fabulous October so the drive up the Sea to Sky Highway to Britannia Beach was spectacular. The mine, which operated there from 1904 to 1974, was once the largest producer of copper in the British Empire and is now home to the fascinating Britannia Mine Museum. There the boys enjoyed panning for gold, riding a train into the depths of the mine and inspecting old machinery.

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Ready for the underground tour!

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After exploring the museum, we stopped for a picnic lunch at Porteau Cove on our way back to the city. The sunshine sparkling on the ocean and the smell of the sea were good for my soul and probably good for my blood pressure too!

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Feeling somewhat rejuvenated, we’ll head back over to the apartment this evening to continue the work that still needs to be done there. Hopefully, I’ll have a better sleep tonight!

O Canada

Prominent women in Canada are agitating to change the wording of our national anthem. Author, Margaret Atwood, and former prime minister, Kim Campbell, are amongst those who are lending their voices to the campaign to rid the song of what they consider sexist language. Apparently, they are offended by the line “in all thy sons command”.

Canada flagWe Canadians are constantly making changes to our national symbols. In fact, we seem to be a bit unsure of our real identity. The present flag isn’t the one that flew over my elementary school and this wouldn’t be the first time that our national anthem was altered. The offending line in the original anthem, written by Robert Stanley Weir in 1908, read “thou dost in us command” but in 1914, Weir himself changed it to its present wording. Considering that, at that time in our history, women were not yet legally considered persons, this could possibly be construed as a sexist sentiment, implying that only male loyalty was being invoked, but does anyone truly believe that it means that today?

Rather than reverting to the archaic language of the original line, “in all of us command” is being proposed as the new gender-neutral version. While I don’t really have a problem with this, I can’t help feeling that only a very insecure woman would actually feel excluded by the present wording. If women like Atwood and Campbell are truly concerned about the plight of women, I’d far rather see them take a global view and speak out against issues that really matter; issues like poverty, illiteracy, female genital mutilation, forced marriage and honour killing that continue to endanger the lives of girls and women in many parts of the world.

According to Atwood, “Restoring these lyrics to gender-neutral is not only an easy fix to make our anthem inclusive for all Canadians, but it’s also long overdue.” Really? That one little change would make it all-inclusive? What about the second line, “Our home and native land”? Does that include our 6.8 million foreign-born residents? More than 20% of our population is not native to Canada.

And then, I almost hate to mention “God keep our land” which was also not part of the original song. As a Christian, I certainly don’t want to see that part deleted but does it include the many Canadians who follow other gods or no god at all?

Regardless of how our national anthem is worded, I’m very thankful to be Canadian right now. In many countries, our life savings would be rapidly eaten up by the cost of my medical care and our retirement would be in jeopardy. Instead, when we meet with the doctors tomorrow to discuss treatment, we don’t have to worry about whether or not we can afford it. In Canada, we don’t pay a cent! Now, that’s really something to sing about!

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Shanghai, city of contrasts!

When we went to China, Shanghai wasn’t high on our list of places to visit. As you can probably guess by now, we’re fascinated by history and culture and I viewed Shanghai, with its population of 23.5 million people, as little more than a massive modern city. The only thing that actually drew us to Shanghai as a possible place to visit was the fact that we had friends living there. We got to know the Kawabatas when we attended the same church during our year in Japan and Itoshi was transferred to Shanghai not long after we left that country in 2009.

When we discovered that the tour that included everything we most wanted to see in China ended in Shanghai, we decided to go there after all. We timed it so that we’d finish our tour on a Friday afternoon and then spend the weekend with our friends before flying back to Canada from there.

As time went by, I became more excited about seeing Shanghai. I looked forward to seeing the contrast between the old and traditional in Beijing and the new and modern in Shanghai. Little did I know that I would see both in Shanghai. It is truly a city of contrasts!

Our Lonely Planet guidebook suggests that “Shanghai is best seen as an epilogue to your China experience” and I’m glad we saw it that way. It also refers to Shanghai as “the future that China has long been waiting for”.

Our tour began at the Shanghai Urban Planning Exhibition Hall which gave us a good overview of the city both past and present before we began to explore it. With its massive model of the city and its dizzying 3D wrap around virtual tour in which we seemed to float over the metropolis, we soon felt as if we were no longer strangers there. Historic photos, maps and dioramas gave us a picture of its colourful past. Our next stop was the 88 storey Jinmao Tower for an amazing bird’s eye view of the city.

After lunch, we were off to the most traditionally Chinese part of Shanghai where we toured the classical Yu Garden, founded by the Pan family, rich Ming dynasty officials in the 1500s. Afterward, we relaxed over coffee at Starbucks in the middle of the adjacent and very crowded bazaar area with its many tacky tourist shops and outdoor vendors.

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The building under construction in the background will be the world’s tallest when it’s finished.

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Our evening was free so we took the subway from our hotel to East Nanjing Road, one of the most famous and crowded shopping streets in China. The pedestrian street was a glowing forest of neon lights and crowded with people. It was a vibrant and noisy hub of activity with people strolling, singing, and dancing while others hawked their goods. We even joined one of the groups for an old time waltz!

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The next morning we were back on East Nanjing Road to see it in the daylight and do a bit of shopping. Look very closely and you’ll see the same KFC and McDonalds signs in both photos!

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From there, it was an easy walk to the Bund where we strolled along the riverfront in awe of the contrast between the two sides of the river. On our side stood stately very European looking buildings. Symbolic of the city’s colonial past, they once housed Shanghai’s most powerful banks and trading houses. Today, the Bund is a designer retail and dining area with some of the city’s most exclusive boutiques, restaurants and hotels. Across the river, is the futuristic skyline of the Pudong New Area looking like the set for a science fiction movie. Thirty years ago, that area was still farmland.

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Perhaps the most amazing building we saw in Shanghai was the one where our friend, Itoshi, works where we were dropped off at the end of our tour of China!

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Terracotta warriors

When we left home in February, there were only three items on my unwritten bucket list for China:

  1. Climb the Great Wall
  2. See a giant panda
  3. See the army of terracotta warriors at Xi’an

On March 29, 1974, a group of peasant farmers came upon something completely unexpected while digging a well about 1.6 km east of the burial mound containing the remains of China’s first emperor. What at first appeared to be an earthenware jar was actually the head of a life-sized terracotta warrior, one of thousands buried with Emperor Qin Shi Huang to protect him in the afterlife.

The discovery prompted Chinese archeologists to investigate and what they found was one of the greatest archeological discoveries of the 20th century shocking not only China but the entire world. The pits in which the army of an estimated 8000 soldiers, 130 chariots and 670 horses were buried more than 2000 years ago had been roofed with wood before being covered with a metre or more of earth. Over time, the wood decayed and collapsed leaving the underground army in pieces. Fragments of heads, torsos, legs and arms have been uncovered and entire statues meticulously restored, each one different from the others. Many remain beneath the ground.

I remember reading about this amazing discovery and thinking how great it would be to see it but I didn’t think that I ever would. As I approached the pit that houses the bulk of the terracotta army, I was overcome with emotion. It was hard to believe that I was really there!

As we gazed out over the vast army of statues we were amazed! Amazed at the incredible workmanship, amazed at the years of work and the number of craftsmen that must have been involved in creating such a vast array of statues, amazed that anyone would actually commission this work to be buried with him when he died! We also shared our tour guide’s concern about the future preservation of the statues. Though a building now protects them from wind and rain, there is no temperature or humidity control. The figures were originally painted and covered with a laquer finish but what remained quickly began to fade and flake off when they were exposed to the air and very little colour can now be seen.

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I was also amazed at the size of the site, noting how much land that was once farmed is no longer. On the other hand, thousands of tourists visit every year significantly boosting the local economy. And what happened to the farmers who made the original discovery? Their land was confiscated by the Chinese government and one of them spends his days in the gift shop signing autographs and having his picture taken with tourists (for a fee, of course). It was a thrill to meet him but I wonder if he might have been happier living out his life on the farm.

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Before leaving Xi’an, we also crossed another item off my bucket list. I’ve always wanted to ride a bicycle built for two. One of my Chinese students recommended that we ride bicycles on the Xi’an city wall so we promised her we’d do that. When I saw that we had the option of renting a tanden bike instead of two individual ones, I thought there’d be no better place to fulfill that dream so this one’s for Grace!

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