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Seans Guest House
This was a nice spot, warm, stunningly beautiful and what a "backdrop"Day 31
It’s hard, in today’s China, not to ruminate on the rule of communism. My views are shaped by visits behind the Iron Curtain in the 1980’s. Oppression, iron fist rule, officious police checkpoints, travel restrictions, a cowering populace, no entrepreneurial drive, no merchandise and a host of other shadowy and dark adjectives continue to shape my views. Even China on a visit in 2002 seemed some of the above. Now this country has reshaped itself and it’s me that needs to reshape my expectations of communism. I have struggled to align the economy with the governing system here. Slowly I understand, it’s time to unfasten them in my head. There is no communism, as I knew it, here any more. Economically, this is a strongly capitalist and strongly commercial country. Since the day we arrived, we have seen almost no sign of the paralysis and inertia that I expected. The statues have almost all gone, the slogans long since whitewashed, the posters now mouldy confetti in the gutters, the “no photo” signs are ignored, Police presence is to gesture at jostling traffic; shuffling feet replaced by stiletto heels.
We leave Lijiang, having enjoyed its pleasant surrounds.
Typical Guest house
Just some detail on construction. Really very high asthetic value, and very permanent It’s onto a bus (a nice comfortable Chinese built Neoplan) and off towards Shangri-la. We alight at a dusty and dirty cross roads town, close to the “first bend of the Yangtze River”. This is an auspicious part of China, renowned for the headwaters of the mighty Yangtze River. Tiger Leaping Gorge is our destination. As always, gathering accurate information is a challenge worthy of MI 5 and we treat Lonely Planet as our Kim Philby. We are unsure what options exist on our arrival. The Chinese propensity to never say “I don’t know”, continuously leads to them to answer every question in the affirmative. We have learnt, the hard way, to cross examine all answers, and to seek second and third opinions often!
Tiger Leaping Gorge (TLG) is the worlds 4th deepest Canyon at around 12,400 feet from river to mountain top. Extraordinarily, this is 3 times deeper than Arizona’s Grand Canyon. We anticipate a spectacular location and beautiful environment. We are not disappointed, but as always in China, there runs a dark side. Sean runs an comparatively expensive and Western focused guest house, but its fantastically located, gorgeous and perfect for our needs. Along with Stephen, we
pile into a van, and head off the 25 kms to Sean’s. Around the first bend it starts. The Beijing brigade has its surveyors, explosive specialists, diggers, and labourers hard at work. For 25 kms, through a stunning gorge, with massive vertical faces above and below us, they are turning a small winding rural access road into a superhighway. Explosions bring down massive faces of marble, limestone and schist. What is not used in building the road, is simply allowed to spill down into the river. Gangs of workers toil with hammer and coal chisels to reshape individual marble blocks to use as retaining walls. Concrete is mixed, by shovel on site, moved by hand barrow, and used to hold the marble in place. It’s a mix of industrial might and cheap plentiful labour. The road will bring more tourists and more opportunities to trickle down all that money from the cities to the local vendors and touts. But there is a larger spectre hanging over the gorge. For a country desperate for more and cleaner energy, this sparsely populated V shaped gorge is too good to resist. The geologists have left tell tale signs with their sample drillings. The
Marble, marble, marble.
Theres gold in them there hills road might appear to be for tourists, but in reality, the construction of a massive damn is a no brainer for a government unconcerned about conservation. A couple of million tonnes of concrete, and voila, we have at least a 1,000 MW power station. This road is a precursor to bringing in the real industrial heavyweights.
The van is air conditioned, but as a fuel saving measure , it never gets used. The technology of the van has long ago submitted to the road, and dust pours in through every conceivable crevice. After 90 minutes, we are hot, covered in dust and ready for a beer.
Three gorgeous nights, interspersed with some pony treks, hikes down to the river, and for Bernard, a 25 km walk out on the last day, leave a lasting impression. Molly’s hiking boots get a work out for the first time and after 4 hours hard slog, she is pleased to have felt the achievement of a great walk. “Dad, this is better than sitting on my bed with the i-pod” is her concession that my dragging her out has been a good move. Lauren loves the horses. The crib board gets used
Entry to Tiger Leaping Gorge
Camera poked out the window, pointing to the sky more than once and we generally relax in a unique location. We meet a couple of Kiwis, one who suggests she is a High Commissioner of all things. Stephen takes to us, and we chat quite a bit. He is a real fan of Malaysia, and provides me with more inspiration to try and match Frances’s enthusiasm for our last Asian destination. Stephen works at different speed after 20 years travelling. It’s funny to hear his dialogue. Like a true Englishman he can quote Charles Dickens and Graham Greene, he reads widely and can regale us with insightful and considered observations. But he describes to me his routine in Malaysia. It involves Starbucks every day at 1100 hrs to get himself “moving”. On the last day, we agree to walk the gorge together, leaving at 7.00 am. He fronts at 6.55, not yet ready. He tells me he will need to stop down the road at Tina’s for coffee, if that’s OK. I no longer have the patience I might once have had. We part company, and for all I know, he might still be sitting at Tina’s, comparing the Yunnan and Starbucks virtues. The Guest House is at around
Do NOT look right
I was not scared, really.... 2,000 metres. The hike down to the river drops to maybe 1600 metres. On the last day I get up to 2600 m and the drops to the river appear almost sheer. Goat herders punctuate the way, guest houses appear in the middle of nowhere. Cactus, beech tree, pine forest, bamboo forest provide the bulk of the landscape. The buildings are substantive and ornate, assembled from the plethora of rock freely available. The farming intensive and focused, but hard in this Mexican like land.
Yak butter scores again at Sean’s. 2-3-4.
We have to start moving. Incredibly our visas expire in a few days. Lucy (Sean’s daughter) impresses Frances so much with her driving out of the gorge, that FJ appoints her the best driver encountered in China yet. The indicator gets used, the car stays on the correct side of the road, the horn is used sparingly, overtaking is thoughtful and considered, not an expression of karma, gears are synchronised with engine revs, and the girls are safely delivered back to the cross roads. We pay double the price for the return journey to Lijiang, and the driver will not negotiate down. We arrived in a nice
Neoplan coach, we depart in an 18 seat rural rust bucket. For hygiene reasons, we wait outside, on the footpath for 45 minutes while the driver vainly hopes more people might wish to gamble their lives in this contraption. Our departure is a false start, as we circle the town touting for more suspects. There are no takers, only Mexican stand-offs as car and bus meet in narrow roads, and it’s a game of patience to see who engages reverse first. Our singlet clad driver carries an ice pick on the engine cover. He never seems to need reverse. On board, a 40 litre steel water container commences the process of gently disgorging its harmless contents over the floor. A more experienced hand warns us before our bags get wet. Our fellow passengers are all men. They are all rural and dressed in dirty jeans, army jackets and obligatory canvas slip-ons. One chooses to light up, all the others follow in rapid succession, lest the foreigners start to object. I watch the driver with interest, his fag gets inserted into the side of his mouth and stays there. He clearly needs his hands free, as the bus has no 3rd
DOC would not cope
No billboards, just scawl on the nearest rock. At lest the locals can't turn the signs around the wrong way, as the Irish delight in doing. gear. These are mountainous trips, not freeway cruises. We labour up hill after hill, unable to get beyond 2nd gear. Speeding past are the Golden Dragons, King Longs, Neoplans and JACs I recognise. We suffer the indignity of being passed by a Dong Feng, even worse. The most basic of all Chinese trucks, the “blue thing” goes past in a blaze of glory. Fortunately we do not fall prey to the farm workers’ little pull-me tractors that clog up the roads at 15 kms per hour. The steering is two pulls to the left and one to the right to negotiate a left hand bend. He stops to inspect a live pheasant for sale. No deal is concluded. We pick up passengers at every chance; this is no express bus. A family of four joins us, squeezed into 2 seats to save money, then promptly entertain us as the kid uses a bucket in the aisle for a toilet. The aim is remarkably good. However the bucket soon goes sideways in a careless moment. No-one cares. No-one flinches when the little one leans into the aisle and vomits, sadly with no effort by mum to aim for the bucket. Meanwhile,
Look close
You will see the devastation of the blasting spilling into the river. the scenery is magnificent and unfolds around us as the pantomime takes centre stage. I ponder for a moment, and realise that this trip is far better and far more enjoyable than the last couple of bus trips in the luxury Neoplan and Volvo. Today, our TV and DVD system has long since been abandoned, or maybe never worked. We are spared the agonising 2 hours of Hong Kong or Thai Kung Fu, that we have previously suffered. Hours of gratuitous violence and slapstick fighting wear thin at mega volume. On this trip, we are spared the rigours of modern entertainment, and thrive on the eternal delights of real public transport in the developing world.
We head to Lijiang again, but stay in Shuhe, effectively a suburb now, but another old town. For the umpteenth time, we get rucked over by a lady taxi driver. With 2 kids, 5 bags and a stroller, it’s tough to negotiate. We accept her offer of 40 RMB for a ride. It was worth about 15. We land at a random guest house, and find ourselves as welcome guests in a place that sees few Westerners.
Free to make a dollar and
Pony trek for a day
Cost us $25 for the horse for the day, the minder came FOC. exploit the commercial opportunities, a Chinaman needs no longer to have Party doctrine foistered upon him. The Party is so focused on its goals of phenomenal economic growth and of dragging this country into a new chapter, that it has abandoned efforts to subvert the populace by propaganda. The macro change is amazing. The West has never had an economic transformation to contend with such as we see happening in China. But at a micro level, 58% of China’s population are still rural and still very poor. Here is the risk, here is the challenge; maybe the trickle down will work, but at present it’s clear the divide is widening. This is China’s ruling Party’s real challenge. At one end, the engine is running on aviation gas; at the other, it’s still puffing and smoking on agricultural diesel. Traditional values, in a country focused on the family structure, are being abandoned. The drive to the cities and the adoption of western culture will surely wreak havoc with the next generation.
Politics is always a complex and academic subject and always one with no end. We know as we write, we should stay well away from it. How poorly informed
am I, a Kiwi with only a small interest in world affairs? How can any one visitor to China understand the present, let alone consider the future? Talking to people provides little fulfilment as it comes with much ambiguity. Questions about land ownership and farming community structures will be met with answers that we can’t understand. Move into abstracts such as politics, and the discussion is fun, but almost fruitless. We have been assured that everyone has a vote in China, but what do they really vote for? Obviously the political pyramid changes from votes to appointments at a very low level. When there is only one party, what do the population really choose?
What I am certain of, beyond all doubt, is that the market reforms continue to buy time for the ruling elite. The reforms buy time, hope and greater prosperity for some, but for so many others (hundreds of millions of others), little changes. The ruling party here is on a roll, but as we know so well in the West, people like change. I can ruminate, cogitate, meditate, mull over, deliberate and contemplate communism as much as I like. However I can only come up
with a question - no answers.
The single Party state surely cannot survive?
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Julia Thorne
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GORGEOUS picture of the girls on horse!!
LOVE seeing the pictures of you all - such a cute one of the girls on the horse - I tried to drag it to my desktop to see if I could print it . :( no luck - copyright protected !!:) xoxoxojulia