On the road to Xi'an, we stop for our one and only break. The WC is out of order, but luckily the staff had the foresight to arrange for a temporary facility: five buckets lined up in a row, each containing a generous amount of frothy, golden liquid.
Day 9
Laura's feeling sick, so I spend the morning wandering around Xi'an's Muslim Quarter. Despite my efforts to locate it, the Great Mosque remains elusive for the longest time, tucked away as it is behind a series of narrow alleys packed with souvenir stalls. I'm stopped by two college girls excited to practice their English with a full-blooded foreigner. I'm reminded of the potential calamities of speaking Mandarin when, much to the amusement of my newly-acquainted Chinese friends, my mispronunciation of 'Pingyao' roughly translates to 'penis.'
The Great Mosque
Xi'an City Wall
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