Ostragon found his way to the station, through a big purpose built hole in the sacred wall surrounding Xi'an.  There was the parking lot, with a huge number of large busses serving all parts of the province.  He found the Workers Concert Party Group bus which runs to the Tomb of the first Emperor, also known as the site of the Terra-Cottage-Cheese Warriors.

This tomb was build around two thousand years ago, at vast expense to the Nation which the First Emperor ran with and iron fist.  No one imagines that he was much liked.  He was ruthless and has left behind a sight which awes most visitors, the vanity of which is not lost on anyone, least of which the Chinese children, who were overheard wondering what on earth this idiocy was all about.

The parts of the Tomb open to the public comprise three pits, A, B and C, using official technical archaeological nomenclature.  The pits run from the largest most famous A pit to the smallest C pit. There is also a pit where two reduced size bronze horse-drawn chariot models were found:  very life like, these are rather beautiful and are where our friend started his tour.  He then proceeded to the smallest C pit, migrating up the pit-chain to the largest pit, where most of the excavated Army is to be found.  B pit is in fact possibly larger than the A pit, but is yet to be properly excavated and reconstructed, so is less impressive than A pit.

The care and attention to detail are astonishing and one reall stops to wonder why so much effort was put into this crazy venture rather than building schools, bridges and roads.

After this exhausting tour, Ostragon walked back to his bus, through the exit route back to the car park, which took him and every other tourist through an unsophisticated and unimaginative maze of shop fronts and eateries (no doubt all owned by well connected local Party officials) to be heckled and shouted at by idiots, hustlers, trying to push rubbish, cheap warrior replicas, trinkets of plastic and fake jade, yacking, hacking old women spilling their bile on him as he walked past the gut wrenching smell of putrid pig's flesh being cooked on an open fire...and all along the obedient Chinese people stopping to bargain and be ripped off.

As he fell asleep on the bus back to Xi'an, Ostragon was transported back in time to a place where virgin beauties draped in mail armor spread their legs wide for the lust of the Warrior King's Sword, being buried alive right after their first moment of ecstasy, with all the chattels and belongings of their extended family – the men being sacrificed to the glory of the God-King... he realised that under this hallowed ground, in the province of Xi'an, lay the tales of a thousand ruins, sacrifices and unhealed wounds too numerous to count of a People abused by their self-appointed masters since the dawn of time.

He returned to his hovel of a hostel, wondering at the total madness;  Princes of Darkness, one and all.

He played pool with a new bunch buddies, mostly youngsters traveling through or teaching English.







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