(Emily)
The last stops on our journey were a bit surreal, and made our final destination all the more welcoming. In Luoyang, China's ongoing and uneven transition into the present was obvious; while other cities we've seen have been shining and modern, and surpass those of America and Europe, Luoyang semed in some ways to be stuck in the previous century. ( Not the eighteen hundreds. No horses or telegraph lines.) We passed block after block of raw, dusty earth masked by temporary walls, and unfinished, wounded-looking buildings whose metal supports arched into the air like exposed bone. At first, we thought the weather as just overcast, but it turned out that the sky in Luoyang is permanently smoggy. The entire effect was rather dystopic. It is at times like these--well, all the time, but especially times like these--that I wish I spoke more Chinese. Luoyang, while not a prime vacation spot, is still home to millions of people who must have some affection for it. The language barrier bars me from the human interactions that I'm sure would round out my impression of the city.
