Why do you want to go to Zibo?

I had the bright idea of going to 淄博, Zibo, yesterday. Zibo is a city in Shandong province and people who don't live there are happy because of it. We decided to go because mid-size industrial Chinese cities which are famous for petrochemicals show a different side to the country.

Zibo is also the birthplace of football.

It genuinely is, according to FIFA. Odd, I always thought it was England.

Zibo has apparently earnt this accolade through having evidence that a ball was kicked for competitive fun in the 3rd century BC. The aim was to get it through a silk hoop. I personally believe that there is far more to football than kicking a ball and with the addition of the silk hoop, this isn't really football. Zibo has a football museum adorned in footballs, but the actual ball used was more like an American football.

It's other claim to fame is as an ancient capital of some minor state. Funny to think Zibo was once a capital.

The day did not start well. I was woken up at 5am with painful stomach cramps that seemed to have no cause. And wouldn't go away. Then, after I'd finally dragged myself out of bed, I slipped on some water on the kithen floor and hurt my foot. Then in the taxi to the station, with me whimpering occasionally, Laura realised she'd fogotten her tickets and leapt out to catch a taxi back home. She didn't make it the station in time and had to buy a new one and catch the later train. Daisy, Julian and I had breakfast at McDonalds but again there was disappointment as they had run out of pancakes... I had a sausage cheese thing. Not good.

However this was a good thing for Laura as she missed Daisy, Julian and I making complete obnoxious twats of ourselves. While on the train we were talking loudly about topics that were rather crude and coarse. Actually really bad. So bad I can't repeat them here. While we were at full steam a girl in front of us turned around and said, in perfect English "I hear you are going to Zibo. My home town is Zibo". Julian went as red as his shirt, which he tried to hide his face in. Daisy paled and I collapsed into silent laughter. I don't think I have ever been so embarrassed in my life. It got worse when the person next to Daisy got up to get off at her stop and said "excuse me", also in perfect English.

Typical. When you need someone to help you, it's all 听不懂 but when you really don't want to be understood you end up surrounded by English Language experts...

So embarrassed.

Zibo is hotter than Qingdao, being inland, and was rather smoggy. I think it was smog but wherever I go in Shandong there is always this heavy haze so maybe it's just dust. Zibo has no McDonalds-can you believe it- and few foreigners. There may be the odd teacher. The buildings are short and old and ramshackle and dirty. Except for the government hall which is grander than Edinburgh's. After wandering around for a bit we caught a bus to 临淄, Linzi, a nearby district, and waited for Laura to catch up.

My tummy still hurt. It didn't seem to be 拉肚子, but I blame the raw beef mixed with raw egg I ate the day before at the God Teppanyaki place.

"I want to eat at a 博山 restaurant. Let's find the nearest one"
"I think the one right in front of us is nearest"
"Oh yeah"

We ate lunch at a 博山 Mount Bo, restaurant which is a cuisine unique to the area. It was a cheap place but bizarrely had a wstern loo. Although the water was brown. And it didn't flush. Which was unfortunate for whoever came after me. The food was ok and we had 豆腐箱 which are boxes made out of tofu stuffed with stuff. We ordered too much however and didn't finish it. While we were eating, the staff ate their lunch and it was interesting to see what they ate. While we had varied food with meat they had a couple of pots of chopped bean and lots of rice.

Then we went and looked at the football museum. I finally took some of Daisy's ibuprofen, smuggled from Britain.

Then we caught a taxi to what we had really come to see. While building the high speed Jinan/Qingdao motorway they discovered some buried chariots and horses all lined in a row. These date from the Spring and Autumn Period (770-400 BC roughly). In order to preserve well the find they built a musuem around them. But didn't move the highway, which runs through the middle of the museum and directly over the chariots. The room in which the chariots are, is not kept at a constant temperature of humidity. So this, combined with the vibrations caused by the several ton trucks rumbling overhead, will ensure this valuable find will be gone in a few decades.

It was a very interesting museum and had quite a lot about chariots and chariot-making. While in Europe chariots were used to approach the battlefield looking swish, normally the soldiers got off to fight. In China they would fight chariot to chariot. Their carriages were also slightly different as you would sit crosslegged inside-meaning that the roof was very low. They must have been smaller in those days as I don't think I could fit even crosslegged-unless I bent my head. Similar designs were still in use 2000 years later.

After our history lesson we went to a nearby reservoir and hired a paddle boat. We paddled around for a bit. I played the Pirates of the Caribbean theme music on my ipod. A dead fish floated past. Zibo is rather industrial.

Then we caught a random bus- after I got chatted up by two Ziboans on a motorbike who wanted to be my friend. I pretended not to understand when they asked for my phone number.

Catching random buses is always fun and we had a tour of Linzi's suburbs. Still mostly two storey, there was the occasional building site with walls covered in artist's impressions of what swanky futuristic skyscraper set in lush greenery is coming to Zibo. The roads were quite leafy and Daisy said she could live in Zibo. I think I'd get bored.

Driving between Zibo and Linzi was scary. Chinese motorways are fairly empty which leaves just massive trucks used to having the road to themselves. They veer all over the place and are genuinely huge. Our bus ended up nearly getting sandwiched by two. It takes a lot for a bus to feel small.

Then we hopped on a bus back to the train station before eating at a 鲁菜, Lucai, Shandong cuisine restaurant. Zibo is supposed to have real authentic Lucai food. The owner refused to understand us and this rather annoyed Daisy. He wrote down on paper "Excuse me can I ask where you're from?" which Daisy read aloud. The group next to us laughed uproariously. I said we were from Norway.

(We tend to pick random countries now when people ask where we're from. Just gives us something else to say. Daisy once chose Russia and the guy started speaking fluent Russian at her.)

Our restaurant was on a street containing 4 sex shops. There was a chicken pecking outside.

And then we left for home. While walking up out of Qingdao station I helped an old man with his luggage. When I first grabbed it I nearly made him fall over and a Chinese girl gave me a "what on earth are you doing" look but we made it up the stairs in the end. He said thank you in English and shook my hand. I fled, red faced.

When Daisy bought the tickets the ticket seller said, "why do you want 4 tickets to Zibo?""Because there are 4 of us""no I mean why do you want to go to Zibo?".

It's not going to rank as a tourist destination and it's sad how so many people live their entire lives in such pollution but Ziboans seemed a pretty happy bunch. And Zibo was rather nice. But I wouldn't want to live there.