quanzhou prt dos

Hindu spire at a Buddhist temple.

Wicked Muslim man hawking wares at the temple. Good as wares.

People long dead.

The shrine of the great man who started the cemetary.

Too lazy to bring flowers for your loved one's grave? Girl, all you gotta do is bring a cactus!

The second day in Quanzhou started off quite well. Our hotel rooms were fantastic, and the threat of dangerous “service” averted, I slept well on the large, plush mattress and the crisp white sheets. I looked over at Jon. He was still asleep, and he looked cuter when asleep than did Luke. Check below for a picture…just kidding.

We work up and went down stairs for breakfast. It was Chinese style: porridge, unknown meets, greasy bread and soy milk, but thank God they had coffee. I munched that down, and from there we headed out to what was supposed to be a museum… but we got lost en route, so our tour guide just randomly pulled over to the nearest tourist attraction: a cemetery. But to her credit, it wasn’t just any cemetery, but a Muslim one, and the grave stones and what not were particularly beautiful. The headstones had a mixture of Arabic and Chinese on them, and every once in a while there would be angels and other bits of religious paraphernalia. Moreover, a characteristic of cemeteries and graves in this area is that they are above ground, or at least there are a series of stone slabs that came up from the ground to denote that someone was below. The cemetery was nestled on a green hill after a series of stairs, and along the way we passed a rock that had been blown by the wind that it was precariously placed on the edge of a cliff. Who knows—a super-strong typhoon or a few more centuries and that rock will fall off and kill someone.

At the top of the cemetery was a worship alter for the Muslims there. Inside were stone tablets with inscriptions in Arabic and Chinese, but the must striking feature was the incense in the middle in front of a portrait of one of the most influential to the Islamic community during their years of exploration in the area. It was told to us that people, Christians and Muslims alike, would set up resident in wherever they landed after months at sea, and on that rock they would build a church so that the gates of Hell could not prevail against it. Or something of that nature. Either way, the incense is definitely not a Islamic ritual usually, but a Buddhist one, so seeing the two religions meld so nicely was good indeed.

After that, people started tripping the fuck out, so when we arrived at our next destination—a maritime museum—it turned out to be our last destination. I was really feeling the place—particularly the tombstones from the different religions that had settled in the area (including Hinduism), which had translations helpfully provided in English—but since people wanted to go home so badly, we left and went back after only an hour (I mean, really, an hour in a museum?!) and returned home.

A fact about China: convenience is not the top priority. When you’re on the interstate, and you have to use the bathroom, about how many gas stations, rest stops, convenience stores and exits do you pass that will allow you to stop? In China, this is not the case. If you’re going on a long ride, leave the fluids at home. One of us had to use the bathroom, and she gave full notice to the driver that she had to tinkle, and our driver, Zheng, looked for one. 20 minutes later and no bathroom, we pulled to the edge of the road, and our lady pulled down her trousers and did her business in the bushes. Gangsta, but a fact that people should know before coming to China. Always carry a packet of tissues or you’ll be screwed later on.