#58 Teaching at Taizhou Teachers College, China ( Autumn Gold Harvest near Guilin)

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The day's drive toward the West from the beautiful garden city of Guilin in Guangxi Province, turned into the next unforgettable journey, through a part of South-China, where little has changed for a thousand years. Only recently has a better road opened the way for "voyeur-tourists" like me to visit one of Nature's Great Paintings. The Longji Titian (or aptly named Dragon Backbone Terraces of Longsheng) have always been a travel-destination wish, and I was fortunate to visit them just before the rice-harvest, as the sheath of each kernel turns gold.

We had rented a car, and were ready to explore the high ridges of the Rongshui River Valley and the surrounding countryside, dotted with Zhuang and Yao villages. All have remained quite virgin until the region opened to visitors only recently.

The passing and unforgettable panorama hypnotizes a traveller, with century old cultures, customs, and sights, that have only "worn" more beautiful with time. Along a steep range of high hills, one of mankind's great work-projects has been fuzed to the mountain sides, and kept productive for a millenium.

The "Long Ji Terraced Rice-Fields" have been constructed, maintained, and harvested by clans of the colorful Zhuang Miniority for countless generations. Few of them have ever ventured beyond the steep surroundings of their tight-knit communities and their "Ping An Zhuang Village".

First excavated from the surrounding mountains before the Yuan Dynasty of the great Kublai Khan, multitudes of artistically shaped terraces have been created, and their harmonious "Rings" define and surround each of the steep hills, nestling a few small villages of traditional-wooden houses. These "balcony-fields" of rice change color and texture with every season, as they seemingly cascade in abundance to the valleys below.

Water flows naturally into the intricately layered rice terraces from clear water springs above, water so clean, that it can be used as a refreshing, cool drink by the hardworking peasants, and now the visitors and hikers.

The water level in the terraces is monitored and controlled individually, to successfully nurture each year's new and abundant rice-crop. It has been done this way by all the ancestors, long before a few visitors had the opportunity to admire a unique marriage of man and nature.

The thrifty local Yao's, some of whom still depend on hunting rather than farming, have adjusted quickly to the tourist busses and a few private cars, which daily wind their way carefully and slowly up a greatly improved road, that offers vistas equalled in few parts of the world.

Though the rice terraces are beautifully and artfully maintained, and are a marvel to behold, the additional revenue brought by adventurous visitors has modified the behavior of the small Yao-Tribe community. They are keenly aware, what lurks in the pockets of these outsiders, and they quickly overwhelm every new arrival with their minimal but necessary English terms, as if going into battle for each visitor's pocket-change.

What must have been a cohesive Yao-Clan before the morning of the tourist- invasion, becomes a free for all the moment the engines of busses and cars are turned off. The small parking lot, at the end of the precarious road, some 4,000 feet into the hills, becomes a dust-cloud of intensely determined women and children, many quite impressive in their native costumes.

Even the rather large "domesticated" dogs seek cover, when they hear and feel the pounding shoes, believing their moment for the dinner-table has arrived a little early, (... and to the dinner table it is for each canine, sooner or later)!! :-( It is difficult for a Western mind to understand the cruelty of life, when embraced by one of nature's unique experiences.

Only foot-paths and hundreds of stone steps lead toward the top. While the woman and children concern themselves with the fleecing of exhausted tourists, the men eagerly offer to carry the "out-of-shape visitors" in a kind of sedan chair to the dizzy hights, for a negotiated fee. I walked and climbed every step of the way, thank you, and often to the amazement of the encouraging villagers.

The women dress in traditional clothing. Their long and shiny black hair is carefully bound, often concealing additional bundles of hair from their "dearly-departed" ancestors. My encounter with a whole "herd" of them is documented in the photos below, as they are ready to unravel kilograms of hair, in hope of a marriage proposal or a few Yuan (money) from my pockets.

It was no use to struggle with them, I was overwhelmed. Our path was too narrow for my escape, and though I admired their volumes of black "Lady Godiva Hair", it was either marriage or some money. I opted to pay a toll to each, for the privilege of finally being allowed to pass and some photos. It was an encounter, that was to repeat itself several times during hours of hiking, along the miles of steep and narrow trails.

My wonderful friends from Guilin, Ms. Liz Lee, her husband, and her son shared the 2 day journey with me, and unlocked parts of an amazing China. I will forever be grateful for their efforts and an experience, that will remain with me for the rest of my life.

Few of the "group-tourists" made it as far to the top as the four of us did, and we soon found ourselves walking for hours up and along narrow, winding paths. We were alone and embraced by the joyful sounds and amazing sights of nature and the friendly greetings of the occasional peasant, working the golden gardens of rice, the "Dragon Bone Terraces" of Longsheng, China.

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