Stories About Xi'an

Stories About Xi’an

The inspiration to write about Xi’an came from the song Fly Me to the Moon playing in the youth hostel:

Fly me to the moon
And let me play among the stars

The first time I heard this song was in Triumph in the Skies II. When “Cool魔” (Mo) hummed these lines casually while flying a plane, he seemed so relaxed—what a carefree moment.

Today, Beijing is heavily polluted, and Xi’an is no different. I flew from one place to another, and these two ancient capitals share the same “height” in air quality.

This is my first trip to Shaanxi, and choosing Xi’an felt like the only option. As the capital of thirteen dynasties and the cradle of Chinese culture, its grand landmarks need no introduction. What left the deepest impression on me is that in the late 20th century, when U.S. President Bill Clinton and his family visited China, their first stop was Xi’an, not Beijing—and they made a point to see the Terracotta Warriors. This speaks volumes about Xi’an’s global influence.

Before arriving, my impressions of Xi’an (or Shaanxi) were limited to the Shaanxi dialect and the Terracotta Warriors. I’d barely tried Yangrou Paomo (mutton stew with flatbread) or Biangbiang noodles, so my first meal here was a trip to Muslim Quarter for Yangrou Paomo. I have to admit, this dish—crumbled flatbread mixed with vermicelli, mutton, and a porridge-like broth—is truly delicious. But it loses a lot of its appeal without sweet garlic to complement it. To show my love for it, I had Paomo for both my main meals today: one beef, one mutton. Even now, I’m savoring the memory of sweet garlic and bread crumbs chewed together.

Let me share some memorable moments from today. At lunch, besides Paomo, I ordered a cold dish platter—here, you pick three kinds of cold dishes to combine into one plate. Since I ordered it later, the young girl forgot to charge me. I couldn’t let that slide, so I waited until I finished eating, sat at the table, and asked her, “Did you bring me this cold dish?” She didn’t understand at first, looking confused. After I repeated it, she finally got it but looked even more stunned, wondering why I was asking. I added, “Did you forget to charge me for it? I could’ve run off without paying, and you’d never know.” She suddenly realized and said, “I knew you wouldn’t run.” “Why?” I asked. “Because I look friendly?” She smiled and said, “Yes.” In that moment, I thought: a sincere smile truly makes a person beautiful.

Another incident was near the Muslim Quarter at the Qingzhen West Mosque. I happened to pass by and saw a huge crowd pouring out of the mosque, like students leaving school at noon—it was quite a spectacle. Everyone wore white hats, and from their features, I guessed they were Hui people. Curious, I stayed at the intersection to watch. The crowd was so large it took six or seven minutes to thin out. Later, I saw several people carrying a stretcher-like object covered with cloth, with a few women crying and walking behind. Clearly, it was a funeral. A bystander told me it was for a respected person in the Hui community, which is why so many people attended the prayer service at the mosque. Given it’s a Hui neighborhood, a crowd of over a thousand wasn’t surprising. I learned that Hui people bury their dead the day after passing, unlike Han people, who often wait days and hold various religious ceremonies before burial. I also heard that married Hui women must wear headscarves—it’s a tradition.

As for beautiful women, I think Xi’an has many, with a unique ethnic charm that’s quite appealing. Combined with their rich northwest accent, they’re my type—similar to how I feel about girls from Chengdu, who have distinct regional traits I admire.

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