through the looking glass

only the 20 minute walk is actually 6km, something I didn’t find out until we were 3km into it. hu has strange notions about distance and seemed honestly surprised when I told him the walk from my school to town, that takes a leisurely half an hour, is 3km, only now we’re carrying really big bags through mud. but the countryside was beautiful and when a mototaxi passed we resisted the urge to take it and enjoyed the walk past two small towns and a brick firing oven built into the side of a hill, through farms, and over and around the hills. the sun set, but just when we were wondering if we’d ever get there we caught sight of lights in the distance. I was convinced at this point that it was impossible for us to see a town for the first time during the day.

we passed on the first hotel but stayed at the second, and it seems we weren’t the only ones who did so, as for the first time all trip we met other foreigners. a french student from beijing and her mother and an american student from nanjing all arrived earlier that day; during dinner a little later three brits sat at a nearby table (and did their best to pretend I wasn’t there ; ) for the first time as well there was not a single other chinese tourist. another night walk after the second best meal all trip (spicy pork with green onions, baicai with tofu), past more men weaving bamboo orange crates and I came to the realization that this place was a couple paved roads and a garbage collector away from being the next dali. later the hotel owner agreed, and he too wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

at the congjiang bus station we met a young chinese backpacker. we talked a bit and found out he was heading to huangxiao, also in search of the polyphonic singing of the dong minority that had drawn me to zhaoxing. zhaoxing is the largest dong town, huangxiao one of the smaller. hu had to use the little boys room so we stopped in a hotel, the backpacker asked where I came from, looked at me strangely when I said tianshui and dissapeared. hu found him bargaining a 3 wheeled mototaxi, but we hadn’t eaten since 9 and it was already after 6pm so he went his way. talking to another 3wheeler we found we’d have to take a 1 hour night walk to get to huangxiao, and I still wanted to see zhaoxing anyway. but another driver who’d been listening told us about another miao villiage, different sect than langde (there are piles of different sects, white, black, short skirt, long skirt, and on and on. I never did find out which the two we visited were), 5km away at the top of a 500m mountain, so we told him we’d go after dinner and walked off in search of food products.

10 minutes later, food along the main road passed over, the driver passes us with another passenger. turn right after the bridge, I’ll find you there. okay then. he did, we climbed in, and he took us down the road to a nice little hole in the wall, where we insisted he join us. turns out there are three foreign teachers in the city, and his daughter is an english major in kaili. we said we’d call tomorow to meet her if we had time, hopped in the ride and took off for piasha. (piasha is the miao name, but as mandarin doesn’t have that sound they call it basha.) there were times when I seriously doubted the 150cc bike’s ability to pull metal frame, rider, 2 passengers and 2 big packs up, and the man needed oil something fierce, but we made it. we pulled up in front of a building, dogs barked, he immediately went forward 40′ and stopped again in front of the Basha Inn. We were greeted by a party around the fire, good smells from the neighboring kitchen, and a 30 kuai room with two big beds, a bathroom (though it turned out there was no actual running water in the building), and a little balcony for 30 kuai. done. the door down the hall was open, and while someone fetched us hot water to wash off the road dirt we chatted with two of a group of dong musicians on the road to a concert in another villiage. there were some 20 of them staying in the hotel that night, meeting up there before heading off together. the two boys we talked to couldn’t have been more than 20 (one reminded me so much of young brian, down to the way he smoked his cigarettes, I had to blink repeatedly), but they’d recently travelled the area and did a marvelous job of convincing hu that I was not crazy to want to go to zhaoxing (he’d never heard of it and was a little wary).

a sign spotted on the night walk taught us that this villiage was a ‘museum villiage’, their way of life preserved for visitors and themselves. hmm. we also found that the surrounding area was a nature preserve of old growth forest, something unfortunately rare in china. somehow not tired I spent a few hours listening to the sounds of practicing musicians on traditional instruments while catching up on my journal.

hu and I began our walk the next day together, but a pack of dogs blocked a path he’d really wanted to take. they were guarding their home and I wasn’t gonna mess with that, so I opted to head down another path while he went back to try again. (he never made it, spending the morning with three little girls he’d met, visiting their home. amusingly, my other way eventually took me to the spot he’d wanted to get to.) wandering the top of the mountain I was struck by the hardness. a boy passed carrying a very long gun and a bucket, he wasn’t more than ten. every man in the villiage carries a knife, and unlike langde most of the people we saw here were men, the women seemed primarily to be wherever the female children were.

I wandered past homes, peeking in cracks and doorways until meeting a pair of little girls, one shy but curious, casting sly glances my way, the other outgoing, all smiles. I struck up a conversation about the pig in the shed nearby and we chatted a bit with a little mandarin (only one seemed to speak it, the other spoke her local language, or so I thought) and a lot of sign language. I asked if they could take their picture, they were hesitant until they saw the first one, then they couldn’t get enough. we played around for a while, climbing things and looking around corners, they showed me around the area, then the shy girl came out in tinted mandarin with ‘please give me a picture’. I had no idea how I’d manage that, as neither could tell me their address, but fortunately hu promised to send the pictures he took to the family he met, so I’ll put mine in with his and hopefully they’ll find their way home.

we met back up for a mediocre lunch that turned out to cost as much as the room, because apparently there is no water at all in town, it must be brought in from congjiang. we ate around the fire with the musicians, talking travel and music and life, and then hopped a ride with them down the hill into town where we hustled over to the bus station just in time to get the last two seats on the bus to zhaoxing. which doesn’t actually go to zhaoxing, it goes to Luoxiang where a 20 minute walk awaits.

Leishan is a sleeps two road town that thinks it’s a city. or city that thinks its a town, either way it’s having a bit of an identity crisis. the roads were paved but coated in a sheen of redbrown mud. the bus station is the side of the road, each way heading out to a bigger city. behind the two street mao faced buildings lay the remains of an old town, we crossed a bridge over a little river half a k away to get there, finding the nicest hotel in the city vacant and willing to let us in for a mere 80 kuai a night. the zealous central heating system warmed both our wet bones and my laundry. a late dinner at the only restaraunt in town yielded not only beautiful, delicious food but a welcoming, if a bit touchy feely, owner, who passed around the homemade mijiu (like baijiu but better tasting, with cranberries I believe) and cigarettes and gave us a discount on our meal as I was the first american he’d ever met and he loves america. on the way home we stopped in a bakery where they provided both tomorow’s breakfast and directions to the best place to catch the bus to rongjiang, which they believed ran about every hour.

refreshed we set off out of this strangely pleasant place and walked the road in search of our bus. after only 15 minutes, at almost exactly noon, it arrived and we flagged it down, only to find out packed to the brim, people spilling into aisles and sitting on luggage. the money lady (on every chinese bus there’s the driver and the person who collects the money, 99 out of 100 a woman) tried to give me her front row seat, I proceeded to try and give it to a tired looking girl student who wasn’t biting, and followed hu into the belly of the beast. sitting on a little stool in an aisle isn’t nearly as bad as you’d think, and it would have been almost pleasant if four of the people sitting around us didn’t keep getting motion sick. for reasons I have yet to understand chinese women are particular prone to this problem, and the twisty mountain roads (*stunning*, when I could see them over some guy’s left arm or, when standing for a while, past the mud and condensation on the windows) did nothing to help the matter. the movie they played was american, mousetrap. hu believed they put it on for me, as most busses show kung fu fliks or slapstick chinese comedy shows, which I found amusing as I would have much preferred kung fu. two hours in to our four we stopped for a meal, fifteen minutes later a half empty bus to congjiang pulled up behind ours. hmm. congjiang’s only an hour past rongjiang….inquiries made, refunds given, and though it cost a little more and we had to wait another fifteen for this bus to eat we had real seats. just before we bought the tickets we checked the map and realized that we had wanted this one to begin with, as we were headed to zhaoxing, a dong minority villiage 15km outside congjiang. we’d been on the wrong bus. whoops ; )

Langde is a small Miao minority village tucked in the hills along the scenic route from Kaili to Leishan. a rickety bus carried us to the bottom of the hill, and after purchasing a flashlight, batteries, cigs and breakfast crackers we headed up the dark road. 20 minutes later we see one or two lights, our destination. a motorcyclist waiting for his lady directed us to a house designated for visitors, we went and explored, and though the rooms were lovely the idea of the five boisterous children at sunrise made us push on. I’d spotted a warm and welcoming light near the top of the hill, and packs and hour (~10pm) notwithstanding we tried for it, and were greeted warmly at the door by a woman who spoke not a word of mandarin and did not appear to run any sort of an inn. we ended up in a cold but cozy dorm room for 10 kuai for hu, 12 for me. though it irked me, as I make chinese money just like everyone else, I swallowed my complaints. we’d have the whole place to ourselves and a balcony overlooking the town sqaure, even if the bathroom was a hole in the ground down a flight of stairs and across the cobbled street.

we stopped long enough to drop our packs and set out for a walk. a little wandering brought us to a small river; we tried to build a small fire, failed, settled for skipping stones, and played on the see-saw. for the first time since my arrival in china I touched natural flowing water. dancing around my fingertips, it was warm.

I followed the patterned pavers, walked counterclockwise circles around the lone tree in the square. later, the whole town would do the same.

my morning wash and brush in the outdoor sink delighted the few locals in the area. smoke wisped from holes in rooves as we clambored around on the smooth muddy stones, slippery from rain the night before. our sliding also greatly amused the locals, as did out breaking tequnique of sliding into each other. hu procured a long stick and this delighted them even more, but it kept us shiny side up. it was a small, impeccably clean villiage, and the view of the mist encased mountains surrounding lended a tranquil air. women carried crops or water in two buckets balanced on a stick, chopped wood or fed chickens in courtyards; the men were decidedly absent from view. we were drawn into the embroidery shop by a woman who told us of a special performance that afternoon. a group of beijing officials were stopping through (quite literally as it turned out) and they’d paid the 500 kuai price for traditional singing and dancing (which they essentially did not watch, chatting on cell phones or with each other throughout, but I digress).

I didn’t want to stay but hu wanted to photograph it, so I watched from the balcony, a nice out of the way vantage point, reasoning if it was different than I thought I could walk downstairs. it wasn’t. everyone in the villiage appeared to come out, whether to participate or stand around the fringes dressed in their traditional costumes with baskets of needlework or silver hoping for a sale. yet there was no air of celebration, the only smiles on the faces of children amused at the crash of tin when they wrestled and chased each other. the dancing was beautiful but out of context, I had no idea whether one celebrated a new year or the hope for a good crop or was part of a funeral procession. the singing had a decided mountain yodel flair, which I found enjoyable if not something to put on the ipod, yet it too felt heartless. and who can blame her, it’s not like any of the people watching were actually paying the girl any mind.

I’m glad I saw it, I am, but it saddened me. it’s something I’m struggling to come to terms with, on one hand it’s a way for them to make a lot of money, and money will build better schools or send their kids to the cities for college. yet it feels like they’re selling an idea, what we want to see, a departure from reality. for me their reality was on those slippery steps so easily walked under heavy burdens, their dancing a celebration of important events, not a show for bored beurocrats. but those bored bureocrats have the power to give them funding, to help make their town a better place to live. to give them indoor plumbing to match the single lightbulb illumination or the satellite dish if that’s what they want.

we admired the scenery on the way back to the road that we’d missed in the darkness the night before. we didn’t have to wait for a bus, a taxi stood at juncture with the main road waiting to fill, 4 kuai each bought us a trip with a woman and her rice sacks into Leishan. the countryside along this road overflowed with mountains, waterfalls and streams, the drizzle enhancing the green.

tucked aboard in hard sleeper class, letting a family use the lower berth to sit together, we met a travelling monk. he and hu discussed a great many things, I managed to catch about 60 percent of what they were saying, enough to follow the general gist, but chose to listen rather than join. intriguing. the scenery out the window was startlingly beautiful.

we arrived late morning to a small city built into the side of a hill. while munching on the most outstanding dumplings of my short life the chef told us to head up the hill, so off we went. after a few pictures of a roadside shrine to the mountain spirits and the view below we decided to hop the bus the rest of the way up. it took us, somewhat surprisingly, into a modern small city, complete with pointy shoes and lipstick. we found a bookstore, no maps, but a newspaper stand provided and we chose langde as our destination for the night.

took a side trip to a small town about an hour outside the city via two busses called (I think) longxi, dragon river. could have sworn I had taken pictures but they seem to have mysteriously dissapeared. strange.
anyway. wonderful little river town, too many hotels to not be a tourist attraction in better weather but some great side alleys if you looked for them. after walking across the river and through the plantations for a while took a rest at a riverside cafe where no one would leave us alone to drink our tea. I took out my journal to record some thoughts and ended up with two sellers over my shoulder. “what’s she doing?” “writing.” “can you read it?” “no, it’s in english. can you read english?” “nope”. hehehe. decided not to spend the night there but by the time we got the the bus area there was nothing. cabbies and hotel girls said there were no more busses but who knows. I spotted a big bus pulling up to the town gate and inquired where they were heading, tour bus to the chengdu airport. can we catch a ride? maybe, all three tour guys will have to agree. we get into a conversation with guy #1 about my flower, he’s a fan. while waiting for guys #2 and 3 I watch a small local girl whose right eye was covered with a patch but whose left eye was only outshone by her smile. I asked her name, she laughed at my chinese, I gave her the flower. turning around I noticed the name on the tour bus, dragon tours. we’ll get a ride.

we did. sitting in a bus full of chinese tourists just finishing their whirlwind tour I ended up in a conversation with an english speaker who’d asked if I’d lost track of time and laughed when I answered I’d never had track of it to begin with. hu meanwhile chatted with the youngest of the three guides. after dropping off the group they generously took us through some sort of vast dirt pit into the city proper, and told us to go to a certain 5 star hotel where, mentioning their name, we could spend the night for 100 kuai. luxury abounded, the coffee was welcome, but we were unfortunately unsuccessful in taking him out to lunch the next day as thanks.

a smidge over one year later I arrived back in chengdu after a crowded 17 hour train ride. though my initial intent had been to head to chongqing there is but one train, a slow one, and tickets could only be had if you proffered a signed letter from the head of the train station. so chengdu it was. found a fantastic little hostel in the middle of a small section of unbuiltup streets for a very, very reasonable price: Dragon Town. so reasonable, in fact, that I splurged on the suite simply because it had one of those old fashioned chinese beds that look like canopied wooden couches and I’ve always wanted to sleep in one. my first task in chengdu was to procure rain gear for guizhou, as it looked to be wet, and a reuben, because for some strange reason it’s the only american food I actually miss. not that I wouldn’t enjoy a good steak if offered, but I actively crave reubens. also enjoyed a welcome can of ginger ale to wash it down. aah, city life.

managed to miss the right bus stop one day and ended up at the long distance bus station, on the return trip however spotted an aircraft carrier museum. no way. even though it was not on any map and everyone I asked had no earthly idea what I was talking about, a few days later I hopped back on bus 61, got off at the dirt pile I’d spotted as a landmark and headed in for a glorious afternoon of plane watching and wandering through imitation training camps, past a cape cod style hotel and a go cart track (closed for the winter) and an aircraft carrier converted into restaraunts (I couldn’t bring myself to stop in). outstanding.

decided on the way to find bus 61 the second time that I’d like to take a bicycle taxi, simply because I’d never done it before. even though I was only going 4 big blocks south the first driver wanted 15. the next came down to 10 but I was only willing to pay 5, so oh well. to the bus stop (big blisters after walking the city with my big pack, was trying to save my feet for the trekking I expected in guizhou), realized 61 stopped there. while taking out my kuai for fare the second taxe driver came up to me. “this way goes north. you need to go to that stop across the street to go south.” (did I mention that the hotel I stayed at the previous night had a lousy map?) he walked away but I followed. you said 10, right. well, you didn’t have to help me but you did, so ten it is. we chatted about his work along the way, lousy but sometimes he gets to meet interesting people and that’s something. I had him drop me off outside an outdoor store where, after taking his picture, I promptly purchased a compass.

another highlight included wandering around a wonderful, quiet neighborhood. got lost on my way to find bus 61 (are you sensing a theme here?) and caught sight of a peaceful tree lined street so I followed. I spent the better part of a morning sampling street breads and getting let into neighborhood gardens and courtyards for a look around. was shown a giant outdoor palmlike plant, the kind used as houseplants in the us; I’d never seen one over 6′, let alone one with 6′ leaves. the owner was particularly proud and insisted I photograph it. an old gatekeeper chased the ducks.

another morning was spent visiting a tomb of someone whose name I can’t for the life of me remember right now. there was something different about it, special. I don’t know why, but I took copious, detailed notes.

two evenings spent walking and writing by the river, one evening found a few musicians under an arbor singing opera and dancing an almost tibetan dance in flavor. later spent a little time at the cozy and welcoming ‘little bar’. everywhere people played badmitton in the streets. it was miraculously sunny. hu talked me into buying a pair of slippers; I initially balked but eventually understood. I will never leave home without them again.

my memories of chengdu are, again, not linear.

spent a lot of time just sitting in the buddhist neighborhood. saffron robes abounded; I passed a woman in full tibetan gear talking on a cell phone with multiple glittering danglers. I bought a bird of paradise (the flower) and the sales girl kindly helped tie it to my backpack. I carried it for two days, pleased that I was not getting stared at just for being the white girl. ; )