Author: Fred Hoyt

What I did this morning really summarized at least the China part of the month-long journey. I got up in the morning and stood in line (for an hour) waiting for the National Museum to open. The tickets are free, but limited, so getting there early was a priority. I think I was number 20 in line. I had time to see three exhibits (not necessarily in this order):

The first one was Ancient China to 1911. While I took some pictures of the artifacts, I was more fascinated by the explanations of the dynasties and what they brought to Chinese history. The coverage included descriptions of the Chinese periphery (the other than Han peoples) and some information on foreign relations. I paid special attention to the 80-year Yuan Dynasty (founded by Genghis Khan). Most museums have wondrous collections of Chinese materials; Scouts who went to New Hampshire last year with me saw one in the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. What was surprising to me was that the last time I was there (the museum seemed to be always closed), which was probably around 2000, the exhibits stopped at the Ming Dynasty, and the explanations could have been lifted directly from Marx, Engels, Lenin, and Mao—and probably were. Feudal was the most common word (or to put it one way, it was like the museums in Vietnam). I remember asking my colleague Dr. Jin why history stopped around 1400. Based on his experience as a mainlander whose family was persecuted during the Cultural Revolution, he suggested that any closer to the present incurred the risk of a revision in the party line—and dire consequences for the historian. 1400 was safe.

The new exhibit, much more spritely displayed, demonstrated why China’s cultural supremacy was so pronounced in Vietnam and East Asia.

The second exhibit I found quite by mistake. It had some weird title like, “the Rejuvenation of the Chinese People.” It was also in a difficult-to-get-to part of the immense building, which is a twin to the Great Hall of the People, where 1000 delegates meet in the Chinese Parliament. I suspected it was the party view of history since 1840, since I knew that the new Museum had merged with the Museum of the Revolution. When I got into the exhibit, I realized that yes, it was about the freeing of the Chinese people from the century of humiliation, and I was the only foreigner there. The captions were mostly in Chinese, but it’s the Chinese I could read (sort of) from learning my Chinese during the Cultural Revolution. There was the missing rhetoric on feudal society and the imperialists who made war on China and whose businessmen and missionaries drove a militarist policy that reduced China to poverty and oppression. This was the “remember history, save the nation” that I saw in several places, culminating with a party history of the period through the end of the 1990s and the wisdom of following Deng Xiaoping’s version of Communism—the creation of the New China.

The third exhibit was the one I knew I had to see more than I wanted to see. It was the “New New China,” the global player of global economic integration (and political influence), as emphasized by Louis Vuitton and some of the art he inspired. The first room was a room dominated by octagonal mirrors featuring a video of an explosion of a rock, called “the beginning.” One of the highlights was a variety of trunks that LV had created over the near-century of its existence. This was the “New New China” I’ve been talking about (and if there’d been a few copy-LV bags, it would have been perfect).

And then it was time to go home. Here’s what I’ll miss (and some of the items on it may surprise you).

1) Fresh pineapple in Thailand, and fresh fruit in Southeast Asia

2) Murtabak in Malaysia, and the ambience of Penang

3) Order in Singapore, but the chance to bicycle in a jungle

4) Crossing the street or walking on the sidewalks in Vietnam. Good exercise. Adrenaline rises.

5) Vietnamese food

6) Vietnamese prices

7) Old and new friends in all of Asia

8 ) Hong Kong scenery

9) Macau’s resemblance to Lisbon, and vice versa

10) Imperial sights in Beijing

11) Traveling with students, sharing experience and enthusiasm and knowledge. Hopefully, some will be infected.

12) Traveling alone, which I enjoy partly because of #11. Better restaurants as a result, and am responsible for one irresponsible person.

13) Crowds, because there must be something worthwhile at the end

14) Solitude, because crowds make you appreciate it when you can get it

15) Realizing nothing’s in English and no one speaks English and it’s obvious I’m from out of town

16) Learning new things, and remembering old. Putting things together to make sense.

17) Learning from guides. And sometimes teaching them.

18) Asian toilets. I like a challenge.

19) Long train rides. Did you ever find where I left those cobras on the train in Vietnam?

20) Beijing duck someplace atmospheric

21) Working on my Chinese to the point where Chinese answer back in Chinese—and I understand what they’re saying

22) Long flights are great if you can sleep—or if you read

23) Mindlessly wandering through markets or parks

24) Asia

25) Adventure. Give me a few days and I’ll be ready for my next one!

Mao proclaimed the “New China” in 1949 from the gate of Tiananmen, a China free of imperialism and one that would reclaim its role as a great power and a leader in promoting peace and stability. They’re still the themes of the current regime.

It occurred to me when I returned to Beijing that I’m witnessing, as well, the “New New China,” in the big cities anyway, a prosperous, modern, integrated into the world economy—and full of a middle class that understands consumerism!

I saw both in Dalian. As I identified yesterday, the city was born of the ambitions of the Russians and the Japanese, who fought a major war on Chinese territory for Chinese territory—without resistance from the Chinese, who’d lost the right when they lost the war against Japan in 1895. Japan wanted the resources Manchuria held; Russia wanted to compensate for a “mistake” it made when it reached the Pacific. Unlike the U.S., which found San Diego, L.A., San Francisco, and Seattle had harbors, Russia had Vladivostok, which froze in the winter. In addition, by its borders with China, Russian contact with its Far East had to go around the long Amur—I prefer the Chinese name, Black Dragon River—bend. Hence, Russia cut straight across with the trans Siberian/Chinese Eastern Railroad, then dropped a railroad to Dalian from Harbin, a city still with some marvelous Russian buildings. In fact, Stalin tried to get the Chinese to cede Russia the use and possession of Dalian into the 1950s (Sino Soviet friendship indeed!). The Japanese, who took the Liaodong Peninsula, which included Dalian, from the Russians, with the consent of the United States (Roosevelt won a Peace Prize!) made it the headquarters of the Kwantung Leased Territory, run by those generals who gave us World War II in the Pacific. It was the location of the railway headquarters too, that helped drain the resources—coal and iron—that helped make Japan one of the great powers. As I recall, Japan kept the Kwantung Leased Territory as a possession into World War II. I know I have Japanese stamps used in Dalian through at least the 1930s.

The “new new” China was also on display. June 1 is celebrated in China as International Children’s Day. Given the One Child Policy, there were a lot of “little emperors” yesterday, in their finest clothes, usually with their grandparents, everywhere. In the morning, my guide took me to Ocean Park, a seaside park/aquarium that features several shows. In line with the new Russian theme (the languages are Japanese, Russian, and Chinese—much less English than elsewhere; I was easy to spot as the guy from out of town in the park), during the busy months there are Russian dancers, “beautiful blonde ladies with long legs,” my female(!) guide intoned. There’s a Russian street which has some old Russian buildings (one, an “Arbat” restaurant, reminded me of a similar street in Moscow, where similar goods are sold—the matryoshka dolls, Soviet-military things, binoculars, etc. I had a guide once in Beijing who took us to the Russian market, where mafiosa-looking people came and loaded suitcases with goods to sell in Russia. “Is this a good place to shop, ” I asked her. “Not good enough for Chinese,” she sniffed. And there is a Japanese street too, and more Japanese buildings left (the police station is now a chemical engineering university), but the Japanese rule lasted from 1905 through 1945. And Dalian has a street I call Michigan Avenue, like so many of the big Chinese cities, with world-class brands (the real ones; the copies are a block away)

When I got back to Beijing, I headed for Dashalar, a street I remembered fondly for its small shops, in front of the Arrow Gate to the Forbidden City. It was close enough to walk. I remembered vaguely construction the last time I was there, and what had happened is that the area had gotten a complete makeover, made to look old and traditional—kind of forced, I thought. Next to the shops with the traditional brands (many of them from the vilified 19th century Qing Dynasty) from Beijing and elsewhere (a silk shop from the 1700s, sauces since 1871, etc.) in made-to-look traditional shops, were the Starbucks and the Armanis. The toilets were real (only the handicapped stalls or senior stalls have western sit-downers; and in any case bring your own papers), and so were the restaurants. The choice of a “last supper” was easy: Roast Duck at a place that had the fewest foreigners!

I walked down the back streets until I reached an area where the old shops were not “olde shoppes” to remind me that I was in China.

I leave the hotel in 7 hours, and I am hoping to get some last sightseeing in. My goal is the National Museum; I’ve not been there for years (it was often closed), and I understand a 2008 renovation tripled the size. The number of tickets is limited so I’ll probably stand in line after breakfast until the place opens in hopes of getting one. In line with the New New China, a special exhibit is on Louis Vitton! I like my irony delicious.

The first emperor, Qin Shi huang, came to the city I visited north of Beijing over two centuries ago in search of an elixir that would guarantee him immortality. Needless to say, the fountain of youth eluded him (as it did Ponce de Leon and others), but the grateful (or frightened—emperors could be quite capricious) citizens renamed the city in his honor, which is how Qinhuangdao (Emperor Qin’s Island) got its name—and two thousand years later, it’s still the only city named for him.

My goal was much more modest; I wanted to see somewhere I’d not been that might be interesting. That’s what I was doing there, a city of about 3 million containing the best harbor in North China.

Qinhuangdao is the hub for two nearby cities, Shanhaiguan and Beidahe, that it turned out were more interesting to me.

Shanhaiguan was located in what the Romans would have called the “limne.” Thus, it became a garrison town early, based on being where land and water meet—and where the great wall comes down to the sea. Beginning in the late 14th century, “old dragon head,” the encampment at the pass assumed importance in barring the Manchurians and Mongolians from invading China; in 1644, however, an officer opened the gates for the Manchu invaders, who proceeded to Beijing and swept the Ming Dynasty into history. In 1900, as part of the suppression of the Boxers, the 8 Allied armies ransacked old dragon head; it was not rebuilt until the 1980s, and has become a tourist attraction (5 stars, no less). It had a maze within the walls for training troops! Qianlong visited here (he was emperor for over 60 years) and inscribed a thought on a rock (he did that everywhere), which was defaced by the Allied armies and restored along with the fort. His statue is there, and for a fee you can have your picture taken with him.

Shanhaiguan is also a walled city, and we visited part of the encircling wall (and part of the Great Wall), the first pass under heaven. Within the rebuilt wall, the city has traditional buildings—one story, with eaves, a museum—the home of the wealthy Wang family, providing a stark contrast to the grim cinder-block high rises outside the city walls.

We then drove to Beidahe, a salubrious seaside resort for the rich to escape Beijing, both then and now. At one time, the area was the summer home of the foreign diplomats (there were barracks for the troops, and the German and Japanese maintained foreign post offices); then it was the summer home of the party elites—Mao and Lin Biao, his successor, had villas there.

Today, ironically, the area welcomes a lot of foreign visitors—from Russia! The three languages for most signs? Chinese, English, and Russian. My guide said during July/August she doesn’t know whether it’s a Chinese city or a Russian city.

Well, that was yesterday. Today I’m writing from Dalian, a city of 7 million that is important in the histories of Russia, Japan, and China. On a peninsula extending into the Yellow Sea, it had the warm water harbor that Russia craved in the Orient. So much so that the Russians bullied the Japanese (who had defeated the Chinese in 1894-1895) into surrendering the spoils of war (the Liaotung Peninsula)—to them. Dalian officially celebrates its birthday from 1899, when it became a Russian city called Port Arthur. Five years later, the Japanese fleet appeared before the harbor, sank the Russian navy, then declared war. The war here was brutal, with about 60,000 dead Japanese and 20,000 Russians, but the Russians lost another fleet (the one from the Baltic sailed half-way around the world to get defeated at Tsushima Straits). In a peace brokered by Theodore Roosevelt (who won a Nobel Prize for it), the Russians surrendered Liaotung to the Japanese. For the Russians, the defeat hastened the demise of the Romanovs (see the movie about the Battleship Potemkin). For the Japanese, the defeat was the first by an Asian over a Western power (at least since Genghis Khan), and hastened the end of empires that went on till the end of the century. Japan controlled Dalian until its defeat in World War II, and used the base to dominate Manchuria economically (the region has resources, such as coal and iron, that Japan did not) through special rights granted to the Japanese-owned South Manchurian Railroad Company, and eventually separate it from China under “The Last Emperor,” Puyi.

We went to the main battlefield, a hill overlooking the harbor which took 66 days for the Japanese to conquer. The Chinese have kept the battlefield, and the monument the Japanese crafted from bullets (to their arrogance and militarism, says the signs), but have turned the park into a reminder—roughly, don’t forget the past. If one needed another symbol of why China considered the 19th and early 20th centuries a century of shame, or humiliation, it certainly could be here. Russia and Japan fought on Chinese soil while a weak Qing government let it happen.

Quite a history lesson these past two days!

On the road again

The students left yesterday in a burst of OMG activities. Before leaving for the airport, we:

1) Visited the Confucian temple and the Imperial College, both founded in the Ming period to train and honor the scholars who successfully passed the exams and became the ruling elite of China. Until the exams were abolished in 1905, the system of learning the Analects of Confucius was one of the surest ways to wealth and power. The top three scholars were honored by the emperor at the Forbidden City, and were allowed to march through the same middle gate as the emperor. All the scholars who passed the exams had their names inscribed on the steles, and I said that anyone whose name was on them would get an A in the class. Unfortunately for them, only my name and Professor Sikora’s were on the stele. At least that’s what I told them. Though the complex is not usually on the tourist main route, I thought it would be useful to see the “mother church” of Confucian education since we’d see one of the “satellite” campuses in Hanoi, an indication of the power of Chinese civilization (I’d seen the equivalent in Seoul). As luck would have it, there was an International School graduation that day, so the college was set up to be a college that day. The Sage of Qufu (Confucius’ home town) would have been pleased.

Interestingly, the qualifying exams for universities today are just as competitive—and just as useful. When we went to Beijing University (the IWU of China), they boasted about the number of top student qualifiers the school had attracted from the Chinese provinces. And In Beijing several years ago, we had the president of Motorola speak to us. When she was done, she asked, “Any Questions?” She was Korean, and so I asked, “Did you graduate Seoul National or Yonsei University?” “Seoul National,” she replied, surprised. “But how did you know?” I knew because Confucius still lives in Asia.

2) The second must-do in that area, an area still marked by the dismount stones and other trappings of old Beijing, is the Yonghegang, the Lama Temple. Originally the home of Yongzheng (who will play a role later in this narrative), it was converted by Qianlong into a Lama temple to honor his mother (a stout Buddhist) as a place for his loyal subjects from Tibet and Mongolia who followed the Lama version of Buddhism. It is the largest Buddhist temple in Beijing today, with a crowning hall housing a 23-meter standing Buddha made of one piece of wood (everything is the largest, biggest, tallest, etc., but you do have to watch the qualifiers). What I love most about it is that it incorporates the Tibetan/Mongolian gods, too, that are terrifying in their demonic postures, especially the blue demon that I think should be the DePaul mascot.

3) The third item (yes, we were busy—this was all before noon, and probably seemed an eternity to those who sampled the nightlife as a personal farewell to the trip and to Beijing) was a tour of the hutong area around Houhai, one of the artificial lakes the imperials created for themselves north of the Forbidden City. The hutongs were the old-style homes with four square units surrounding a garden; it’s a Manchu word. Once the predominant housing in Beijing, they’ve been replaced by high rises, and maybe it’s not a bad thing. The units once had no electricity, water, or sanitary facilities, except what was common. Today, the area has gentrified and is now the playground of young Chinese, and the residence of older ones. We stopped at one for lunch, where a woman and her retired husband preside over an empty nest (children get married and want privacy) together with same-generation elders.

When I took the students to the airport and checked them to security—free at last, and convinced that the experience had been transforming—I returned to the city, where I’ve been busy ever since. Yesterday afternoon, I walked for about three hours. My main goal was to climb Coal Hill and take pictures overlooking the Forbidden City. At one time the highest location in the city, Coal Hill was constructed of dirt dug out of the moat to build the Palace. It offers the best view of the Palace, and I was delighted that it had been reopened since I was there two years ago. I realized I had not been there late in the day before (I like to get there early in the morning and watch the tai qi and line dancing and ballroom dancing, and calligraphy, etc., but couldn’t entice any night owls to join me). One note of history there—supposedly, the last Ming emperor went there when the Manchu armies seized the city in 1644 and hanged himself. Interestingly, the Manchus had him buried in the same valley with the other Ming tombs, and carried on the burial traditions themselves, becoming more Chinese than Manchu by the end of the dynasty (they came and were transformed). I went around the Forbidden City to Sun Yatsen Park, which had been part of the Palace when the Emperors lived there, when it housed an altar for earth and grain. Another stupendous architectural wonder—and proof that the Middle Kingdom, or its rulers at any rate, was wealthy beyond belief. I emerged just in time to witness the lowering of the flag over Tiananmen Square, which had a larger “crowd than in the morning (after all, 7:30 at night is preferable to most people over 4:50 a.m.), the same snappy military detail, but no inspiring anthem, or any music.

Today was my “OMG, I’m outnumbered by how many to one?” day. I left early this morning for the thing I’ve never had time to do—visit the Qing tombs. There are two sets, one in Eastern Hebei province, which were ravaged during the warlord period, partly because one of the graves is of Cixi, the wicked Empress Dowager who poisoned emperors to keep power, the other in Western Hebei; I went to the west, where we visited the tomb of Yongzheng, the 3rd Qing emperor, and supposedly the most resplendent. He set up the first tomb in the area (supposedly, he killed his brothers when he became emperor; it wasn’t always primogeniture, making succession one of the problems in any dictatorship, or even an entrepreneurial company. Consequently, he did not want to bury himself near his father). Yongzheng designed the sacred way after the model of the Mings (who copied earlier dynasties) with some differences; most notably, the scholar/officials had the “pigtail,” the Manchu hairstyle that the dynasty made every Han Chinese copy. The tomb was every bit as impressive as the more well-traveled Ming tombs, but being 70 miles or so from Beijing, much less visited by tour groups. They told me I was the only Westerner to have been there that day.

Fragrant Hill was similar. Another imperial park, it is on a hillside in another playground (my guide thought the problem with the Qing emperors was that they had too many playgrounds and did not spend enough time on government; after all, they permitted the century of humiliation!), this one built by Qianlong. With a charming man-made lake (and a natural mountain, of over 1,200 meters, which we did not have enough time to climb or to ride the cable car to the top), the site houses the Azure Cloud temple. It’s another lama temple Qianlong built (partly to honor his mother), with Tibetan stupas; Dr. Sun Yatsen’s body rested here while the Republic prepared the elegant tomb in the capital (between the late 20s and 1949). Again, it was a park full of local people (it was Sunday afternoon), and I was the only American around. Beijing abounds with imperial sights, just as impressive as those on the tour, but more enjoyable because they’re not.

Right now, I am the only Westerner on a train headed (for me anyway) to Shanhaiguan, the mountain-sea pass where the Great Wall comes down to the sea. I’m spending tonight there, and visiting the pass, Qinwangdao (the only city named for the first emperor in his lifetime) and Beidahe, playground along the ocean of old and new elites. The car is a second-class sleeper (6 people, 6 bunks; fortunately I’ve got a bottom bunk), and if I speak English, I talk only to myself. I am, after all, In China.

I hope you’re enjoying your holiday as much as I am mine.

They say you can’t do everything in 3 ½ days in Beijing, but I think we’ve come as close as possible to exploring this majestic center of the center of the Universe. We’ve joined 19 million residents (it’s China’s third largest city, behind Chongqing and Shanghai), who all seemed to be on the subway tonight, 5 million-plus cars (so many that certain license numbers—today those ending in 5 or 0—are banned, though it’s hard to tell what 20% less means), and hordes of tourists.

The capital of China since the Yongle emperor of the Ming Dynasty, worried about the barbarians from the north, moved it here in 1406 (from Nanking; it had also been the capital while Kublai Khan and the Mongols ruled for 80 years), Beijing was built to impress, and that it does. The phrase, “Oh My God,” overused (in my opinion, by some of our students) truly applies here. China has historically not only been the most populous country, but at times the richest. Certainly, the 24 Ming and Qing emperors who lived here spent as though they were rich, and they were successful in impressing foreign devils with the might of Chinese civilization—even today. Tourism is the biggest business, and China has both the history and the infrastructure to deliver it, aided by the “coming out party” called the Olympics. One benefit of that extravaganza (China reputedly spent more money on the opening ceremony than the country spent on education that year!) was the moving permanently of a major steel plant, which improved the air quality, noticeably for those of us who haven’t been here for a while.

The old Chinese saying, “come and be transformed,” is obvious from the sites we visited. This morning, we assayed the Forbidden City. Even though only a small part of it is open, it dazzles with length, breadth, and opulence. I can only imagine what it must have been like to be a foreign ambassador and walk through the city (the gates have three openings, one for the emperor, his empress or empresses, and the three top students on the annual imperial exams). If you haven’t seen The Last Emperor, you ought to—it’s a portrayal of the end of the Qing Dynasty. It’s filming in the Palace Museum (what the palace became after Puyi was thrown out in 1924) caused the sacking of the mayor of the city, who allowed foreign cameras to be placed on the buildings, etc. I had to point out the spot where Starbucks had been, evicted after an email campaign unusual for China in that it was bottom up. I’ve walked in the mornings, which is a great time to be up and about (the People’s Liberation Army unit housed in the Forbidden City hoists the flag at sunrise—4:51 this morning when a few of us got to watched it), and I’ve found parks that used to be part of the Imperial Court. On one side, what used to be the ancestral tablets and shrine is now a workers’ cultural palace, which has all the features of the palaces—centuries-old cypress trees in shapes meant to amuse (the Crown prince’s forest was planted by “naughty and playful” princes who planted them randomly), huge rocks in fantasy shapes, walls, buildings resplendent in red and gold—and no tourists. The other side is dedicated to Dr. Sun Yat-sen, but was also an imperial playground. I sought to explore more on the west side of the Palace when I rented a bicycle one evening, only to be warned by the army on guard that I was getting close to Zhongnanhai, the home of the chief party officials; the new emperors replaced the old.

Three other imperial sites reinforced the awesomeness of the middle kingdom and its all-powerful emperor. One was the tombs. Tourists usually go to the Ming tombs since they’re on the way to the Great Wall at Badaling. Here, the Mings buried 13 of their emperors in a valley whose entrance is guarded by the “sacred way”, animals and officials in pairs, one resting, one serving the needs of the emperor, to serve him in the afterlife. The tomb-type construction predates the Mings (at least as far back as the Qin Dynasty, 200 BC, whose emperor (the first emperor) unified China and gave his name to the country; his tombs have the terra cotta warriors etc. I’ve also been to Korea for a visit to King Sejong, who created the Korean language, and his tomb is a smaller version of the Chinese (but he was a king, not an emperor), and also to the tombs in Hue, which again reflect the notion of what it meant to be imperial in Asia—copy the model.

The second imperial site was the Temple of Heaven, which Beijing uses as its logo. With good reason. This imposing edifice also exists at the north end of a long walkway, where various preliminaries occurred before the emperor prayed for a good harvest (which provided job security!). If you think about a country based on agriculture, you realize that having a good harvest was important. Part of the wisdom the Jesuits brought to the Orient was their knowledge of Western science and astronomy, which intrigued the Chinese enough to allow the Jesuits to convert Chinese to Christianity.

The third “must see” is the Great Wall. The current version recreates the Qing great wall, although a wall protecting China from northern barbarians (and keeping Chinese in) predates the first emperor, one of whose accomplishments was to consolidate the existing walls. A business run by the City of Beijing, it has some of the most persistent hawkers in China. Steep, it never really kept out the barbarians or kept in the Chinese, but it’s a magnet for tourists.

We also learned a lot about doing business here at our visit to Caterpillar, a $40 billion company (doubled in the last five years). I thought it was interesting when our three speakers noted they’d been with the company no more than 3 years. From what they said, there is a lot of competition for skilled labor in China; they have 90 positions which have not been filled for a year. Competition is so stiff that 30% pay increases have to be offered as an inducement. “Talents are assets,” one said, “not people.” Cat has had a presence in China since the 1970s, and seeks to get more business from China, which is the world’s biggest market for certain of its products. What they said, though, was that China is a price market, and Cat is 20% more expensive than Japanese rival Komatsu, and 50% more expensive than Chinese products. Consequently, Cat gets only 10% if its sales from China. The company has introduced a GPS technology which tells where the equipment is located; it sounds like sometimes equipment in arrears has vanished. The other lesson was about doing business with State Owned Enterprises, which many of Caterpillar’s customers are. The company has hired someone with military experience who went to study public policy in the United States, and returned to head a program emphasizing corporate governance. In other words, someone who can navigate the bureaucracy. She noted that China is top down, where the United States is bottom up. Her point was that the rules of engagement are changing, from an export-driven economy to one that wants high tech and management skills, and stressed the idea of being a good corporate citizen.

China views its “modern history,” as the monument on Tienanmen square indicates, beginning in 1840 with the Opium War. It is the current administration’s goal to restore the glory that was China, and from what I’ve seen in the last 21 years, has come a long way toward meeting that goal.