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Published: January 28th 2011
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Dufu's Thatched Cottage Museum.
I took a lot of pictures with Shaoling, because, at the time, I thought that was his house! That's exactly what I'm thinking right now as I write this. The oh so "knowledgable" local who told me Du Fu, the most famous poet in Chinese history, lived in
that little kabozo was wrong. I doubted her at first, but went along with what she said, making sure I displayed an engaging disposition to be polite. But deep down, I
knew that wasn't
the famous thatched cottage of Du Fu. The problem was, the entire outdoor museum was so large, and every map was in Chinese...so it was really hard to find. Okay, so I didn't see the place where he actually lived, but I did get to see the places where he wrote many of his poems.
The place was gorgeous; there was green bamboo stalks everywhere--they were the tallest stalks of bamboo I have ever seen since I've been here in Chengdu. It was also very peaceful; waterfalls and rivers simply luminated nature's beauty. It's no wonder that Du Fu had so much to say about nature in his writings...now that I've actually
been there, I understand completely.
The outdoor museum also had famous plinths from the Qing Dynasty; one of the pagodas I went through
Dufu's Thatched Cottage Museum.
Me with an...interesting creature. A toad-snake-bird-dragon??? had a see-through floor, so people could walk over the plinths and really admire their beauty.
So, I explored the area for a couple of hours and learned a little more about Du Fu, one of my favorite poets of all time. I especially love his poem "Reply to a Friend's Advice:"
Leaving the Audience by the quiet corridors,
Stately and beautiful, we pass through the Palace gates,
Turning in different directions: you go to the West
With the Ministers of State. I, otherwise.
On my side, the willow-twigs are fragile, greening.
You are struck by scarlet flowers over there.
Our separate ways! You write so well, so kindly,
To caution, in vain, a garrulous old man.
But...I'm not sure if he can be compared to Li Po's "Drinking Alone by Moonlight:"
A cup of wine, under the flowering trees;
I drink alone, for no friend is near.
Raising my cup I beckon the bright moon,
For he, with my shadow, will make three men.
The moon, alas, is no drinker of wine;
Listless, my shadow creeps about at my side.
Yet with the moon as friend and the shadow as slave
I must make merry before the
Dufu's Thatched Cottage Museum.
Me on top of the Pagoda of Buddhas! It was about six stories high. Spring is spent.
To the songs I sing the moon flickers her beams;
In the dance I weave my shadow tangles and breaks.
While we were sober, three shared the fun;
Now we are drunk, each goes his way.
May we long share our odd, inanimate feast,
And meet at last on the Cloudy River of the sky.
Sorry if this is too nerdy for some of you. But, well,
that must be the anthropologist in me. And I know for a fact other anthropologists understand this. Us and our weird kicks of enthusiasm...can make us lonely people. Haha.
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