A day in the life: a Xi’an tour guide

西安 Xi’an, 27ºC, sunny

“Your tour guide’s English name is Helen. Helen will take you on a tour of Xi’an today.” I had never met anyone who constantly referred to themselves in the third person. Nor did I ever expect to meet a Chinese tour guide who did exactly that. “Helen will take you biking along the city walls.” She did. It was, in fact, only my eleventh time riding a bike, so I was a little 担心 nervous. But I managed not to fall off in the 45 minutes we had cycling along Xian’s stunning city walls under the sizzling overhead sun.

“Helen will take you to eat the lunch now.” And just as Helen said, we were whisked away in our coach to a restaurant. Helen’s English is far better than my Chinese, but I couldn’t help but laugh to myself every time she referred to herself in the third person. After a dumpling infused lunch of local cuisine, Helen took us to see the Terracotta Army, Xian’s most treasured site.

The Terracotta army was built under Emperor Qin’s instruction to protect his tomb in the afterlife. It took more than 700,000 people almost four decades to build these terracotta figures, their horses and their chariots. Every single figure is different, with clothing and moustaches indicating rank. They were all intricately painted one by one before being enclosed by their imposing mausoleum. Yet as the Qin dynasty fell, uprisings brought soldiers to the site of the terracotta army. They razed everything, with not a single figure escaping their ruthless devastation. The terracotta army was lost and forgotten for nearly two thousand years.

Then one day a farmer was building a well. As he dug deep into the ground, he came across the remnants of a terracotta soldier. He had made one of the biggest archaeological discoveries of the century. This farmer has received great acclaim, and Helen shared a funny anecdote of the time he met then President Bill Clinton. Unable to speak English, the farmer had been given a quick crash course so he could say a couple of basic phrases when he met the President.

“Who are you?” The farmer was so nervous, he said “who” instead of “how”.

“I am Hilary’s wife,” was the President’s reply, humoured.

“Me too.”

Helen had booked dinner at the Flourishing International Hotel. When we arrived, it was dead. When we left, it was also dead. But it was nice to have a huge banquet hall to ourselves, I suppose.

What does tomorrow have in store? Only Helen knows.

Helen, our delightful Xi'an tour guide