Most tourists are still in bed and the souvenir shops are tightly shuttered; at 6am you can immerse yourself in seven centuries of history with few distractions. This is Pingyao, said to be the only city in China with its ancient walls still intact and low-rise buildings undiluted by modern structures. But this is no sterile theme park; Pingyao is very much a living entity, a real city inhabited by real people. Authentic local life, with characteristic sights, sounds and smells, flows around the visitor.
The light is pearly, hiding Pingyao's wrinkles better than any coat of paint. The coal seller and his briquette-laden pony cart is a familiar sight. Pingyao is at the heart of Shanxi, the nation's coal-mining province. This fuel is cheap and readily available for cooking (and heating in winter). At times the wind blows a thin film of black dust over everything. Hold your breath as you hurry past the 'honey cart', where the man with the city's worst job is ladling the overnight accumulation of human excrement into his pony-drawn tanker. The city has running water and electricity, and there's talk of main drainage, but for the moment at least, the unmistakable smells provide a reality check.
Walk along two sides of the six-kilometre square formed by the city's walls for a bird's-eye view of the roofs of Pingyao's single-storey yellow mud-brick houses, which blend into the surrounding loess plateau of central Shanxi. The tops of the walls are closed until 8am, so the morning is the time for exploration at ground level. Early light is best for viewing the fine carvings of wood and stone and the ceramic decorations on the shopfronts, mute testimony to the prosperity of local silk merchants and bankers in former times. These days their descendants still live in the interlocking courtyards behind the shop, but they run small museums, guest houses and souvenir shops.
An open-sided electric vehicle hums to a stop beside me and the driver convinces me that 20 yuan (HK$23) is a fair price for an hour's ride. Some of Pingyao's streets are no more than a metre wide - even the main thoroughfares barely have space for two pony carts - but my driver is a native and zooms nonchalantly from one historic landmark to another, including Pingyao's best well, the Town God's Temple, the Taoist temple and the Catholic church (all firmly bolted and barred at this hour of the day). He stops at every photogenic spot.
Pingyao noodles are famous. They come in many colours according to the grain from which the flour is made and which vegetables are mixed into the dough. Early risers queue at the shop selling bowls of what locals call 'cat's ears', tiny lumps of pasta boiled with portions of the famous Pingyao beef that is stewed for days to concentrate its flavour. A pavement vegetable market is doing good business but by mid-morning the cabbages and tomatoes make way for antiques and knick knacks. Outside the South Gate, neighbours catch up on the day's news while they practise tai chi under the shadow of the city walls. One woman calls out to the driver that he should demonstrate his prowess in the martial arts: he does not take much encouragement to strike a few graceful poses.
Here it's easy to see how the crenellated walls were constructed. From a base about 10 metres thick they taper inwards as they rise to a height of 10 metres. As earth was dug out for the core of the wall, a moat was formed around the perimeter to provide further protection for the inhabitants. Historians tell us that Pingyao already had walls of tamped earth long before the start of the Ming dynasty (AD1368) when reinforcements and fired brick facings were added. Watch towers, battlements and gatehouses sprouted over the years, some of them to honour the visit of a high official.
