Exploring the wind and rain bridges around Chengyang

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As we left Da Zhai by bus (very cheap 5 yuan each) the views as we went down the mountain were still obscured by misty rain and heavy fog. An hour and half later we arrived in Longshen - the usual unattractive pile of white tile covered square buildings common in most secondary Chinese towns - where our bus lady directed us onto a bus (10 yuan each) just leaving the terminal. We've been really well looked after (except in Guilin!) by bus staff - they often personally guide us to the correct bus and make sure we get on ok. A couple of hours later we had arrived in Conjiang and were in yet another minibus (40 minutes) enroute to Chengyang. It was a pretty drive and we were really looking forward to spending some time there.

Chenyang is a group of eight Dong ethnic minority villages (approximately one hundred families live in each village) all joined with stone pathways and covered bridges which run along the bank of the Linxi River. The wind and rain bridges were built as meeting places, in all weather, for the local people so are edged with benches. Their houses are large wooden buildings, with drying racks outside, tiled roofs and they seem to be almost built on top of each other. Between the houses wind narrow stone flagged paths and steps - as you walk by you feel as if you are intruding on their privacy as they pass right beside the houses doors and windows. Surrounding the houses are dirty fish ponds, all communally owned, where fish is taken from using nets on poles as needed and eaten fresh.
The Dong and the Han Chinese have a long history of tension though today they generally get along. They have assimilated now with the Han population through intermarriage as many of the younger people were forced to leave their villages to seek work in the cities to survive. The Chinese Government now is financially helping all the minority groups within China to encourage them to remain in their villages and maintain at least some of their traditions. One way of improving their living conditions is to open the regions up to tourism - for many years these regions were closed and very difficult to visit. The Dong people speak their own language still today and it is actually a very different sound to Mandarin. We were left at the ticket office (entrance fee into the village was 60 yuan each) - the beautiful rain and wind bridge in Chengyang (also known as the Yongji Bridge) was very obvious as we had to cross it to get into the village. The Yongi Bridge , constructed from stone and wood - no nails were used - is only a century old but very photogenic with its five towers. It is 65 meters long, ten meters high and nearly four meters wide. We were to cross quite a few different rain bridges whilst we were there as they link the villages.

Chengyang would have been one of the first towns to really embrace tourism in this region because of it's relatively close proximity to Guilin. The bridge was lined with old ladies in dark clothes and headscarves selling embroideries but they showed little interest in us as we crossed. Despite my initial reservation of not being able to find accommodation there was plenty available though most rooms I saw I chose not to stay in. They were dirty and full of disinterested staff. Eventually I found a great room (Chengyang Bridge National Hostel) just outside the main village - it was actually left of the bridge as you crossed into the village, set alone over the river and with a fabulous view of the bridge. Perseverance does pay off! It was clean, though very basic, but heated which was a very unexpected and appreciated bonus for the 100 yuan we paid. With wifi and hot water what more could you want? The guide books said the Chengyang was a 'sanitised' village because of the tourists - it may well have been but it was still dirty. The mud everywhere certainly didn't help the situation. The houses were large dark wooden buildings, crammed virtually on top of each other, with narrow stone paths running between them. Most were hung with dried meats and a green vegetable which covered every available railing. I'm not sure what the vegetable was but it obviously needed to be dried - it may even have been tabacco. Hens and dogs were everywhere.

There were some Chinese tourists but the only western tourist we met was a Canadian man on holiday from his job in Shanghai. We spent the afternoon wandering the paths between the villages - basically getting lost - and suddenly turning a corner and recognising that we had been there before. Each village had a covered bridge, some in a bad state of repair, and they all had drum towers. Drum towers are tall octagonal multi eaved buildings and are a unique feature of Dong architecture. Inside they comprise of four pillars which connects bench seating around a fire pit. Large fires are kept burning in the pits all year round. Though they do hold drums which were used to summon elders to village meetings they are mainly used as meeting places for day to day gossip. Every drum tower we visited did indeed have a roaring fire with a group of elderly men sitting around it. Opposite the drum towers are theatres fronting a small square. Whilst we were there various drum tower theatres had performances of traditional dance, exercise routines, karaoke style singing - so I think they were aimed more at the locals than tourists. There were certainly plenty of local people perched on tiny little stools enjoying the performances. One of the performances we chanced to see was a group of dancers playing the lusheng. The lusheng is a bamboo wind instrument - they come in different lengths - which is swung backwards and forwards as it is blown. The dancers were dressed in red and blue simple tunics - but their jewellery - silver necklaces and head pieces with multi coloured poms poms attached - was beautiful.

Later on in one of the drum towers Jerry and one of the old men played each other tunes - lusheng versus tin whistle. Eating places with menus we understood were hard to find - I guess the lady at our guesthouse would have cooked for us but I don't actually think she lived there - an elderly couple with toothless smiles were the only people we saw after we checked in. We had that evening in Grandma's Place close to another of the bridges in one of the nearby villages (they are all linked together with the bridges) where we had a simple meal of fried rice. The Dong are known to eat some really odd food so we played it safe! And 'google translate' on their computer help led a bit too...

Next morning we went back to Grandma's for breakfast before setting off to explore again. As we were wandering we started to see women carrying small shoulder baskets which were full of rice. Each basket had a slip of red paper in it so we knew they were for something special. As we followed them through the narrow lanes and across a couple of bridges other women joined the Procession. Some of them were carrying rice sheaves hung over their shoulder poles. Men and boys carrying rolls of firecracker also joined the line. They were unconcerned about us being there as they greeted us with smiles so we kept following. We stopped nearby though when we realised they were going to a funeral. We could see the family members, all wearing turbans and sashes of white cotton outside their house. The women went inside with their baskets of rice - an offering to the family. Large pots of food were cooking outdoors. As the men got close to the house they lit the end of the string of fire crackers and unrolled it as they walked towards the house. The noise was deafening! Leaving the noise of the crackers behind we investigated a cement footpath which led from the village.

For the next two hours we walked through some stunning scenery - terraces in shades of yellow rape flower, green vegetables and empty brown. There were many terraces planted with tea bushes as it is grown in this region. We only saw three people whilst we walked - a couple in front of us, the man pushing a hand cart, his wife following behind and an elderly farmer carrying a scythe. It was very peaceful but eventually we retraced our steps back into the village. Lots of women were washing clothes in the river as we walked back over the bridges through Dazai town, one of the outer villages. We explored it further and I nearly fell over a coffin which was lying in the middle of the street. Once coffins were carved from large tree trunks at birth and are kept in readiness near their houses. Today though many are purchases as needed - though the solid tree trunk traditional shape is still used. The coffin was lying in the street in front of the drum tower where a large group of men, draped in white cloth, were meeting. Further down the street we could see the funeral meal being prepared on the footpath. A new coil of rope was lying beside the coffin - it is used to hoist the coffin up and help support it as it is taken up into the hills for burial.Further down the street we passed another large group of men congregated on the footpath - this time they were celebrating a wedding, cooking food for one hundred and eighty people. As there were few women present I guess they were at the brides house and would join the men later. Most celebrations here seem to be held largely with separate sex groups.

The village was a pretty typical of many we had visited - covered with litter (a half hearted attempt is made each morning by a street sweeper which does remove the worst of the rubbish), the street lined with rough wooden benches on which cuts of meat, plastic goods, cheap clothing and dusty grocery products were on sale. Trucks and cars drive carefully between them - there is never much room - and kids run around. Most young women have babies wrapped in thick blankets strapped to their backs and you often see groups of elderly people chatting or playing mahjong. Though all the old men in this group of villages seemed to congregate around the fires within the drum towers. All around the villages were signs in English and Chinese about being aware of fire - if one of these wooden houses did catch on fire it would spread very quickly as they were all very close together. The fire risk was definitely increased in my opinion though by all the young boys - they all seemed to flicking cigarette lighters to the total disinterest of their elders. We were told that most fires are started by people smoking meat inside their homes or by old men smoking their pipes in bed. There were fire hydrants everywhere though.

Late in the day we caught a bus to another village 5 kilometres away. It was much poorer, certainly much dirtier and we saw another funeral - this one was particularly large. The village had two drum towers though no elderly men were in them - I guess they were all at the funeral. These towers however had basketball hoops outside them which were keeping the boys of the village occupied. As we were leaving the village to walk back to Chengyang we couldn't cross the only bridge over the river which connected to the main road because of another funeral. We waited and watched the ceremony from a distance. When it was time to lift the coffin - a dirge played on a brass pipe is always played at Chinese funerals as the coffin is carried - and take it into the hills for burial we sheltered behind a parked tuktuk to escape the sparks from the strings of firecrackers which were lit in front of the coffin as it was carried down the narrow street. The noise was horrendous - everybody was used to it obviously as no children even got upset though a few of the elderly people put their fingers into their ears.

Later on as we walked back to Chengyang I happened to look up and we could see tiny figures on top of the hill - I took a photo of what was the funeral procession and it turned out reasonably well considering my small camera lens. We loved Chengyang and our few days there. I should imagine that it gets very busy in the summer season though with tourists. As there was no really big hotels there though most of the Chinese tourists would stay elsewhere so in the evenings it would be relatively quiet. After dark whilst we were there it was certainly extremely quiet. If you hadn't eaten by 7pm I doubt you would find anywhere prepared to serve you. For the next ten days we would be in Guizhou travelling through some more of the minority villages and if Chengyang was an example of what was ahead of us we were really looking forward to it.

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Photos

Chengyang Wind and Rain Bridge
From our guesthouse balcony

Comments

[GRACIELA]

Cute
I haven´t been to China yet. It is part of my plans. The picture of the lovely kid really called my attention. I love people in all the trips I take. Thank you for sharing. Hugs from Argentina. Graciela.