Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Crouching Mother, Hungry Tiger

Here are the latest images from my mother who is tripping the life fantastic in China.
*See the comment to this post to see her letter.

posted by miked @ 8:54 PM   1 Comments

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At 9:08 PM , Blogger miked said...

Guilin
After seeing “The Painted Veil”, a British movie, I found I was completely mesmerized by the mountain scenery in this film. High peaks with cloud cover and tropical, green vegetation was the backdrop for the movie. It was based on the horrific events which devastated China during a Cholera epidemic during the early 20th century. The disease killed millions. The plot was intricately linked to the landscapes. The people of these villages were in Guilin and the surrounding areas of the Li River in Yangzhou. I had to go and see this place for myself. My dean arranged for a private trip during which I could travel where and when I wanted for six days. The small, Southern city of Guilin, in Guangzhou Province, is surrounded by magnificent tall, thin mountains that rise above a clear lake and the swiftly flowing Li Jiang (river), one of the largest in China. The town is quiet, clean and lush with flowers, green trees, unusual bamboo and tropical trees that line the lakes and
river. There are five major minority groups clearly visible in the area. They are the Dong (or Tong), Miao, Yao (whose women never cut their hair) and the Zhuang. Along the Li River, the people fish on long, thin bamboo rafts and use cormorants that perch on the stern of the rafts to help them spear their catch for the day or even into the night. The birds do not leave the raft because the fish that are too small are fed to them. Women washed laundry on stone platforms with the clean water, and people harvested river rock and sand from the shores. Water buffalo roamed freely, seeming to know just where they lived and not venturing far from their owner’s plots. Where there are stone mountains, there is water, and where there is water there is food, and where there is food there are villagers who are content.
People live in simple comfort here and enjoy a quiet and industrious life. They love to sing. The songs are performed in such a way that they can be heard from one mountain to another. The women call to the men, and the young men respond, with hopes of love and marriage. There is not much time for romance here, so marriages take place soon after two young people meet. They sing questions and answers to one another. The replies are, it seems, crucial to the selection of their mates. Each minority group has its own language that is not understood by the ordinary Han (Chinese). The Dong people were most evident. I visited their village, heard their music, saw their art, watched them dance, and they even let me join in. The women were in their traditional dress of black with embroidered trim. They, also, never cut their hair. They wear it in a wonderful twist and bun on top of their heads with a few, long, decorated pins holding the mass in place. The hair is not pulled tig
ht, and appears to be soft and natural. They are known for their embroidery and each woman takes to the task with determination and expertise. Their work was many-colored and perfectly executed. The patterns were geometric rather than floral. One elderly man was weaving a pink cloth. His loom was hand made and so was his shuttle and anything else he happened to need for the job. He was fast and totally accurate. The women and I discussed warp and woof through the interpretations of my guide. The Chinese are always gracious when someone shows an interest in their work as craft or art. I saw a Dong woman making a fish net of knots from plant material. It was a net that would be used from the shore while standing. The nets used from the bamboo rafts were larger and braced with tall, thin bamboo poles. At night these rafts are lit with tiny oil lamps, and appear like stars on a black, midnight sky. The lack of electricity at night makes the surroundings very dark, indeed.

The Zhuang, who live on an island in the river, wore no shirts (the men, that is) and skins for clothing. Their clothes were mixed with modern cloth. The men’s hair was long. Chinese men who wear long hair are blessed with dark, thick, shining, straight hair that is to be envied. The Zhuang are, evidentially, immune to the cold, as I had on three shirts, two sweaters, thick pants, double socks, a scarf, gloves and a jacket. They danced and moved a lot, but through my guide I told one of the young men to get a coat on. He smiled and shook his head, “No”. They did have small fires burning all around and they were seated by them when not waving dutifully to the tourists. They were all young, mind you. The elderly must have more sense, or they have already expired from the cold.
The wooded mountains along the river are most unusual. They are not as pointed or tall as those in Western Hunan Province, but they are not as old. They seem to stand apart, and each has its own particular beauty. At one time, millions of years ago, this area was under the sea. The peaks were worn by water and the river. Caves could be seen dotting the sides of some mountains. Springs were abundant, testifying to the presence of underground rivers. The boat on which we traveled was inundated for a time by small, bamboo fishing vessels pulling aside; selling anything from jade to fruit. There were men, young boys and women in the cold water yelling for us to throw money into the river. They retrieved the bills with small nets. The first man in the river appeared to be partially blind. His family was poor and needy in appearance and was on the shore watching his progress. He was the recipient of most of the thrown money. The others who appeared to be able-bodied and rea
lly having fun, received less. The Chinese, no matter where, are true business men and women. They do not take “No” for an answer until you are hoarse. No one, Chinese or otherwise, is ever rude to the vendors. I have seen businessmen from Beijing, a very particular lot, surrounded by ragged vendors selling items that are of little significance, but even these hardened city men do not become agitated with the sellers. Jokes are made and soon the selling stops, but not without much talk and bargaining. Weather a sale is made or not, there is always bargaining. I am constitutionally unable to bargain. The prices are so ridiculously low in China that there are times I feel like a thief. I made the mistake, again, of giving money without a purchase to two very old, stooped women who met the boat as we came ashore. They, in true Chinese fashion, wanted to share the wealth. They told every vendor within a mile that this American had given them money for nothing and that the
re was still a sizable amount of stash in her wallet. Well, I was furiously looking for my guide while the lot of sellers left their stands and chased me around a water buffalo. I was soon accompanied by my guide, but just in time. I was actually running sideways toward the river to escape while saying, “Boo, shay-shay!” (No, thank you!). There was one very old woman with a back deformity that must cause her extreme pain. I would have gladly given her all my money, but I knew things would get out of hand. The Chinese tourists do not, I guess, understand the concept of a tithe, and can become rather annoyed at my giving. I do not let it bother me any more. I’m getting braver and bolder after 6 months. In Guilin I gave a lone beggar, who could not possibly work due to a deformity, money. My guide was perturbed, but I said I will always give to someone who cannot work. I was rather terse, so she left it alone. Anyone and everyone who can work in China does. I have ne
ver seen a non-working, homeless person. I have never seen a drunk. I have never seen a beggar who appeared to be a “bum”, nor have I seen anyone do any job in a slovenly manner. Even if it is packaging a small clay mug, they will wrap it and box it as if it were gold. It is admirable, and I am amazed by their sense of duty to work and their untiring service to others. I often experience women crashing ahead of me in a line backed up 30 deep, commencing to interrupt my sale while barking loud, nasal, high-pitched orders to my harried, young clerk. The clerks just look at them patiently and speak something quietly in Chinese. This never takes the first time, but after the screeching women are ignored politely, they get the hint and step aside, not out of line, mind you, but aside, waiting. It is a joke among foreigners here about how the Chinese push, elbow and run to get in a line, or board a train, or get on a plane, or a bus. Everything, even the movie theaters, has
assigned seats. Why does anyone need to push and run if you have an assigned seat? It beats me. The only reasoning I can come up with is that with two billion people in this nation, they are used to NO personal space, and are threatened by “missing out” due to past want. So they run feverishly for anything, assigned or not.

There was a night show in Guilin that was performed in the largest outdoor theater in the world. It also had a cast of 1000 people. It is owned and operated by the National Chinese government. A tourist company tried to purchase it, but their is “no sale” for this production. The reason is that it is fully performed by the locals and they are paid. The community and the tourists benefit and they all want to keep it that way. Warm, Chinese army jackets and small silk sitting pillows were dolled out to us as we entered. We gave them back at a stand when we left. It was the most wonderful show I have ever seen. The backdrop was the Guilin Mountains lit by huge lights. The show was performed on the Li River, and there were platforms that rose out of the water or receded to accommodate the performers when needed. The theme was based on the customs of the minority groups surrounding the river. At one time there were 600 long, bamboo rafts lit with tiny oil lamps running i
n a pattern on the river, women dancing in their minority dress, songs and instruments indigenous to the river people…costumes and lighting to knock your eyes out. The production took ten years to plan. It was designed by a Chinese movie director and a staff of hundreds who choreographed and wrote the music and dances. People were on the mountains singing, on the river dancing and on a “moon” floating down the river. I have never experienced anything like it, and I doubt if I ever will. I was left with tears in my eyes.

I was sightseeing and shopping on West Street in Guilin when I happened to pass a small shop/stall where an elderly man was painting a porcelain vase. The vase had been fired and glazed with clear glaze. He was “china painting”. This is a skill I attempted several times at home and at which I failed miserably. The pigments are slippery, oily, grainy and runny. I gave up. This gentleman started with original drawings from a sketchbook of his own work and was first applying black outlines to the vase. He used a very thin oriental brush. The finest Chinese brushes are made from baby hair that has never been cut, as these hairs are soft and pointed. Cut hair is blunt. He then painted the colors in. His favorite design, his son said, (the son spoke English) was to leave the figures and painted drawings black and gray. They were intricate and perfect. His son told me that his father is nationally recognized (as evidenced by the numerous newspaper articles framed in the sh
op), and that he has received many awards for his work. The present Chairman of China has one of his pieces. His shop looked like a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon’s office with all the framed, official awards. The shop was also decorated with his magnificent vases. His daughter was there painting as an apprentice. Only his own work is signed. I was extremely interested, so we had a very long talk. The gentleman was not sure how the porcelain vases, which came to him already glazed, were formed. They are featherweight and most delicate. I explained the mold method to him, and he was delighted. We became acquaintances, and he said he would not sell me a vase that day. A very special one was in the kiln that very moment, and I was to come back the next afternoon. I did and was rewarded with a masterpiece depicting one hundred of “The Emperor’s Wives” delicately intertwined with hundreds of small designs which each stand for longevity, wealth, etc… I was asked to si
gn a book in which hand-written comments by buyers from all over the world are kept. I have my vase in a beautiful box, and if I go home with nothing else, this piece will be protected and with me.

While in Guilin I stayed in an “Inn”. My guide said that there was a convention of coal miners in town and only $80 rooms were left. That was not so terrible to me, but in China’s countryside it is horrific. The miners were everywhere. They spent their money and had a good time in a lovely place. The Inn was run by a great lady who bent over backwards to see that we were comfortable and gave us directions whenever needed. The Inn was on West Street, and the view was great…the mountains, my small balcony and quiet, no-cars-allowed West Street. Some Westerners live in Guilin. I saw a few, which is more than I see in Changsha.
When we were shopping I came upon a shop with embroidered table linens. They were beautiful. The province, evidentially, is known for its embroidery. These items were things that we only see in high-end antique shops in America. The work was magnificent. I bought two huge table cloths and two sets of 12 matching napkins for about $70. I could not believe the prices. These are items to be left to my daughter and her daughters.
We took busses to and from the Li River. When we were returning, a Chinese man jumped on board at one of the stops. He looked around and spotted an American couple in the back. He had seen my Western face with my Chinese guide, so he left me alone. As if in a rush, he asked the Americans if they wanted to go to the bus station. We were all going to the bus station…this was a scam. No one on the bus said a word. This always amazes me. A band of thieves could board a packed train unimpeded, and pickpocket all unsuspecting victims. The rest of the passengers would know exactly what was happening, but nobody would speak out. It is just the Chinese way. I haven’t figured this out. Is it fear, unconcern, admiration for a job well done, or just that they mind their own business no matter what? We all knew the Americans were in for a big snow job and an expensive one, at that. I was the only one to tell them not to go with the guy. The couple asked me if we were going
to the bus station and I repeated that we were. They hesitated, but were ultimately persuaded by the insistence of the Chinese man. I told the couple that they were making a mistake, and to be careful. They left with the guy anyway. I’ll bet that little ride to the station, if they made it there, cost them their cameras, their money and a lot more. What rookies. Some people should never travel.

The meals in Guilin were sumptuous. I could get desert! Most Chinese spoke English. Evidentially, during vacation times many Westerners come to Guilin. I was there at off-season time so… no crowds. We visited a park called Utopia Park. It had a zoo. I saw a magnificent young tiger that was in a large, rickety cage that looked less than secure. He was huge, clean and most regal. His paws were as large as my head. Now there’s a scary comparison. Naturally, I had to get a closer look and take pictures of him. He was alert, but quite content. I noticed photos around the door to the cage that were of people with the tiger. I assumed they were trainers, and envied them their proximity to such a magnificent cat. I soon realized that the photos were of tourists sitting on the tiger. Like so many other tourist attractions, you could pay to have your picture taken with the tiger…or whatever the attraction happens to be. Now, this I could not resist. Fleetingly, I thou
ght of the lack of security, insurance and liability, but only fleetingly. I love cats. Large or small, I love cats. I agreed to the photo, and the “photographer” opened the cage. He told me to sit on the tiger’s back. I was a little hesitant, but thought the quicker the better. Just as I sat on him he lifted that kingly head and let out a growl. Was I scared? YOU BET! After the picture I fled the cage. This gave some onlookers a laugh, but I didn’t see them mount that tiger. I then had a camel ride, which was not as exciting, but the camel was terrific looking. He had very long hair, two large humps and was quite tall. I also saw a baby panda. He was napping, so I missed out on any panda antics. The peacocks were out and sitting on swings decorated with flowers. They were very obliging for photos. A talking bird said “Nee-Haw” to me and I said, “Hello”, back. He then repeated the “Hello”. A multilingual bird.
We took another bus to the “Seven Star’s Cave”. It was a huge cave that took three hours through which to walk. It was lit with the favorite Chinese colors…pink, blue, yellow and bile green. It sort of detracted from the huge stalagmites and stalactites, but it was worth the three hours. I took a million pictures until the temperature rose to about 80 F and my camera fogged. We had left 34F temps outside the cave.


Now, this little story would not be complete without a description of my train “experience” to and from Guilin. I took the sleeper, “hard seat” to Guilin. It took 10 hours. There were 6 people in a stall/room. We were stacked three to a wall. The “bed” was a plastic pad on a hard surface. The bathroom was way down the “hall”. The train was not heated, and a window was permanently stuck open about two inches. The door leading outside was left open. Maybe that was a Godsend, because men were smoking like chimneys throughout the daylight hours. When it is dark, China sleeps, and the smoking ceases until daybreak. It had snowed three inches that evening. Needless to say, it was frigid. I met a young man (John Zhu) who spoke English fluently and was in business in Shanghai. He was very intelligent, and we had a good ‘ole talk about politics, because as he said, “No one speaks English here, anyway”. That means no one could report on us for negative com
ments made about the government, or its officials, or its management. When it was “lights out” we were commanded to go to sleep. John found an extra blanket and gave it to me. It saved my limbs, and I actually slept. Everyone had to keep all their clothes on, and there was no dining car, but I was fine. Jean had provided me with a “Hot Pot” dinner before leaving. She and her husband brought me to the train station, as no one speaks English there, you may just get flattened on the way to your car with assigned seating, the signs are all in Chinese and the gates may change at any given time with no notice; not in English, anyway. I arrived in Guilin and the guide met me. She is a graduated English major from our university and had been a student of Jean’s. Guilin is her hometown. She was great. She even brought me to her apartment for dumplings, soup, fruit and vegetables. She also secretly bought me a new pair of gloves, as mine were filthy. I was supplied wit
h “local” treats for the train ride home. She is a very kind and generous young woman who has lived on her own since she was 15 years old. She was abandoned by her mother, and when her father re-married she was asked to leave. Jean was a good friend to her and that friendship will ever be appreciated.
The trip home was also 10 hours, but on a sleeper “soft seat”. We had heat, a soft bed, curtains, embroidered linens, enough blankets, hangers for our clothes, a trash can, a clean toilet down a real hall, and a dining car, if needed. Four people were to a room, and the door closed. There was ample staff to help with any need. I do not really care weather I take a hard or soft berth train. At any time I am sure to have another experience of my life, because I am, after all, in China.

Mom

 

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