Fuddland

In the west of China for a cold ten days in January 2007.

This category is a subcategory of Travelling in China.

One of the lesser-known gems in Chēngdu (成都) is Wang’s Tiny Museum of Mao Memorabilia. The name says it all: down a side street that I had to ask three people how to find despite having the address and a map, it’s a small, dark, cluttered room, brimming over with posters and photographs, badges and plaques, statues and busts, books and hats, and all manner of other representations of Máo Zédōng (毛泽东), amassed over the last fifty-six years by one man: the eponymous Mr Wang.

Read the rest of “Wang’s Tiny Museum of Mao Memorabilia”…

Right next door to the hostel I was staying at in Chēngdu (成都) was the Buddhist temple of Wénshū Yuàn (文殊院); it is a Chán (禅) temple, Chán being the Chinese for what is more popularly known as Zen Buddhism. Although initial visual impressions resemble any of the numerous restored dynastic palaces you might find in China, one key difference here [aside from being a temple not a palace of course] is that the temple is still in use, so mingling with tourists like myself are Buddhists monks and Buddhist Buddhists, paying their respects to the many statues housed within the temple walls, lighting incense, or chanting in procession.

Read the rest of “Wenshu Yuan”…

Foolishly, I’d mentioned earlier to one of the other passengers on the bus how good the driver was: up in the mountains of Jiǔzhàigōu (九寨沟) park the winding roads were still covered in snow, yet he managed to keep a steady pace without skidding at all. I was feeling quite safe as we headed back down the [clear] mountain highway, despite it having a large number of hairpin bends and the driver deciding that his tea was almost ready and he needed to step on the gas — until he chose to overtake a wide lorry on one of the bendier bends. Overtaking means pulling out into the cliff-side lane. Wide lorry. Cliff-side lane. Bend in the road. Brown-trousers time, to say the least.

The lorry was as far over to the right as it could manage without veering into the drainage ditch, but it wasn’t quite far enough, and — luckily — our driver didn’t fancy careering over the edge of the cliff, so instead the side of our bus scraped along the lorry, ripping off its wing mirror and front bumper.

When vehicles collide in China — and they everso-frequently do — even with relatively minor damage, they simply stop dead in their tracks. None of this polite pulling over to the side of the road to allow other vehicles to pass by [with an obligatory rubber-necking, of course] — the vehicles involved won’t budge until the shouty-shouty is over with and all the blame has been assigned [and, especially if somebody is a driver by trade and doesn’t want to lose his job, an appropriate wad of cash has been handed over to keep schtum].

Thus, we sat waiting in the bus, blocking oncoming traffic, whilst our driver, the lorry driver and several thousand other drivers from the other vehicles, inspected the damage to the lorry [blocking the other lane]. Whilst the lorry driver was ranting and, seemingly, saying the same things over and over [“I couldn’t pull over any further! Look at my mirror! Look at my bumper! I was as far over as I could go! My mirror! My bumper!” etc.], our own driver had adopted the other stance that seems to be popular amongst Chinese drivers: the impassive-faced, silent, I-know-it-was-my-fault-but-I’m-saying-nothing look.

[I’ve seen a moped crash into the back of another stopped at traffic lights, and the driver at fault simply stared at his victim without even a single word of apology, as if to say, “Look, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” Likewise, the crashee looked back and intimated, “Actually this happens all the time, I’m used to it. Still quite annoying though.”]

Eventually some rope was found, the bumper was secured, our driver doled out a couple of hundred yuan, and we were on our way, but not before the coolest man I have even seen crept through the gap between our bus and the lorry on his motorbike-cum-trailer, clearly not caring one jot about the drama he was passing by — or perhaps he knew his companion would fill him in later.

Those enormous gloves attached to the handlebars are fantastic. I want some, even if I don’t have actually a bike to put them on.

Aside from the dominant Hàn Chinese (汉人) nationality, there are 55 other officially-recognised minorities in modern China; the province of Sìchuān (四川) is home to four of them, and the village of Táopīng (桃坪) has been occupied by the Qiāngzú (羌族) people for around two thousand years.

The houses are all hand-built from rock, wood and mud, with running water provided by diverted streams coming down from the mountains. At least one of the still-habitable homes is claimed to have been built a thousand years ago, and they all display a large lump of quartz on their flat roofs — if I understood correctly, this is to ward of evil spirits, although I could be wrong and pehaps it’s because everyone used the same architect with a penchant for lump-of-quartz-topped roofs.

Still a largely agricultural region, the townspeople — or, thinking about, probably the local government — are slowly wising-up to the fact that this historic town could be a hot tourist attraction, but when I visited it was still relatively unspoilt, leaving me free to wander the streets and get a good feel for life in this small, peaceful, unpolluted village, where I didn’t feel harrassed or hurried despite being the one and only remotely foreign face there at the time.

[More photos tagged with Táopīng form part of my Chēngdu (成都) and Sìchuān photoset.]

In typical in-at-the-deep-end style, I’ve been rather busy for my first couple of weeks with my new language centre, teaching children every morning and afternoon, and adults a couple of evenings a week — but thankfully it all comes to a dead stop on Thursday, when I get a lovely two-week holiday over Chinese New Year.

I’ll resume my Tales from Sìchuān (四川) series once I’m on my break, but I have found time to upload three of my favourite photos from the trip, all taken at various stops en route from Jiǔzhàigōu (九寨沟) back to Chēngdu (成都). I especially like them because I almost never take photos of people — I feel incredibly self-conscious and, also, not owning a super-duper telephoto lens, it’s hard for me to take candid snaps of people acting naturally, which is what I’m really after most of the time. Having said that, I do love the cabbie’s cheeky eyes and standard Chinese pose as he leans out of his Sōngzhōu (松州) bicycle taxi.

The woman attending the toilet at a mountain-road rest-stop was momentarily distracted by something out of shot and only turned her head in my direction at the very moment my finger pressed the shutter. I’m not sure what animals have been skinned and stretched out on the frame behind her — they looked like some sort of hyena, but I forget what someone told me the Chinese name was, so I can’t look it up for a translation. The little girl was simply oblivious to anything that wasn’t her notepad, and lay there singing to herself as she doodled in the sun.

In the mountains of northern Sìchuān (四川) is the 720 square kilometre reserve of Jiǔzhàigōu (九寨沟). The name means “Valley of the Nine Villages”, after the nine high-fenced Tibetan settlements that originally populated the area. The 1000-or-so permanent residents of the villages within the park’s perimeter are forbidden from agricultural activities, and must rely on subsidies and tourism to survive.

Designated a national park in 1982 — after ten years of heavy logging the government realised the value of the area’s natural beauty and banned further destruction of the environment — several of the villages are maintained to “tourist-friendly” levels of attractiveness and traditionally-dressed employees [not all of Tibetan nationality] occupy them during the park’s opening hours, showing people around the various rooms, all of which seem to magically lead to the gift shop.

Political and sociological ramifications of the region’s government-controlled status notwithstanding, the park houses some undeniably beautiful natural sights — even in the sub-freezing temperatures and baren foliage of mid-January, the landscape was impressive, and I was treated to frozen waterfalls and crystal-clear lakes of stunning cyan colours, refusing to freeze due to their mineral content.

A collection of my photos can be viewed via those of my Flickr images tagged with Jiǔzhàigōu [the slideshow option displays them at their best, against a black background], or alternatively as part of the still-growing Chēngdu (成都) and Sìchuān photoset.

[Before anyone asks: yes, there’s been a certain — small — degree of photo-editing, but I promise that the water really was that colour. Anyone who doubts me can ask to see the originals!]

I made a few videos at the Panda Breeding Research Centre in Chēngdu (成都), the first of which shows two three-year-old giant pandas play-fighting in the cold morning air.

Read the rest of “Panda-ing”…

After spending a few days there at either end of my trip, I really warmed to Chēngdu (成都). The guidebooks and information I had read about the city all mentioned the laid-back approach that its citizens have to life, and it was a joy to see.

Wandering the streets and central park of the city, no matter what time of day — morning, afternoon, evening — everywhere I saw people, of all ages, hanging out at teahouses or on benches [in some cases, they had brought their own seats], chatting, playing cards or dominoes, dancing, singing, to such an extent that I have to wonder: does anyone in Chēngdu actually have a job?

Read the rest of “Chengdu”…

Signs dotted around one of the restored, protected areas in Chēngdu (成都) describe the following “Rules Pertaining to Civilized Tour”:

In order to build a civilized and harmonious tour environment and to improve the moral standards of both tourists and citizens, please abide the following rules.

1. Please keep the environment clean. Don’t spit. Don’t spit the chewing gum. No littering. No smoking except in the designated area.
2. Please follow the public order. Keep silent. Don’t jump the queue. Please keep gateways clear. Please don not talk loudly in public places.
3. Please protect the egological environment. Don’t step on the grassland. Don’t pick flowers or fruit. Don’t chase or beat animal. Don’t give animal any food without permit when you are in the zoo.
4. Protect the historical relics and sites. Don’t paint or carve on the historical relics. Don’t climb up the historical relics. No photos without permit.
5. Value the public facilities. Don’t dirty or destroy any installment in the hotel. Don’t destroy the public facilities. Do not be out for small advantages. Save water and electricity. Don’t waste food.
6. Respect other people’s rights. Don’t force foreign tourists to take photos. Don’t force other people to buy or sell something. Do not occupy public facilities for a long time. Respect people in the service sector. Respect religious customs of other nationalities.
7. To be polite. Wear clean and proper clothes. Do not wear clothes exposing the neck or shoulders in public places. Take care of the elderly, children, the sick and the handicapped. Do not utter dirty words.
8. Advocate a happy and healthy way of life. Resist superstition. Avoid pornography, gambling and drug.

My personal favourite is, “Don’t be out for small advantages.” If you’re out for an advantage, you might as well make sure it’s a big one.

Am back. I made it through Nánjīng (南京) all the way to Chēngdu (成都) without any problems, and did a whirlwind tour of the city and the north of the province of Sìchuān (四川), which were both excellent although rather cold.

Right now I need to wash off two days of train travel before I start sorting through the 350-plus photos I took over ten or so days [and have my first cup of proper tea since I left Sūzhōu (苏州)]. Then I’ll be asking you all to sit comfortably whilst I begin…

Let me outta here! Sorry about that, just had to yell to some extent. I’m over it now. I’d like to go to Chengdu. I’ve heard and read that it’s lovely, and I’ve been planning a two-week holiday there ever…

Read the rest of “Chengdon’t”…