Samar in China | The Colour of Blur

Tag Archives: Samar in China

Yangshuo: Silk Ribbon of rivers, jade hairpins of hills

Posted on April 29, 2020 by Samar One comment

Unending series of karst mountains stood tall, seemingly rising straight out of the river. Wispy-bearded cormorant fishermen set their birds off to get the catch in a while. The boy from Babhnan was on a bamboo raft, cruising in the Yulong river in Yangshuo.

A short Google ‘research’ before setting out to the sleepy and beautiful, almost mystical city had thrown up Bill Clinton’s famous statement after visiting the region in 1998. Visibly flabbergasted by the beauty, he had then said: “I heard of the name of Li River long ago. Today I visit Li River. It is more vivid and genuine than what I thought before. Nowhere is like Guilin. It makes me think of the traditional Chinese paintings.”

He had got it partly right. Had he drove a little further down or had talked to the locals, he would have known of the local wisdom embodied in a saying. “Guilin has the best scenery under the heaven, but Yangshuo is even more beautiful.” He missed it by a whisker. Understandable though, world leaders do not often have that much time with them.

Yellow Cloth Shoal- the picture behind 20 Yuan notes — Yellow *Cloth Shoal*– the picture behind 20 Yuan notes

The boy had much more time on him, though. One doesn’t get to escape Hong Kong, a maddening city in its centre, everyday. Particularly not in China, getting even more urbanised with crowds that can put even Saigon traffic to shame! Yet, there is a city with no malls. Even Xiapu had one- a humongous WallMart! Yeah, the Tourists have started taking over this hitherto muse of the Chinese poets and painters for centuries, and the travellers, especially backpackers’ hideout after the country finally opened up.

All set for day's cycling, hiking and rafting — All set for day’s cycling, hiking and rafting

The sun has risen on the city that lies at the confluence of the Li and Yulong rivers, forming part of a waterway system that connects the Yangtze with the Pearl River Delta.

So what if 20 Yuan note has Chairman Mao on the front, I can also pretend!

The boy was in the West Street sipping his coffee and munching on the sandwitch- the really scenic centre of the town with small canals crisscrossing beautiful houses, most converted in cafes and shops now. And it is noisy, busy and crowded any time of the day- the exact opposite of the scenic beauty outside the city- rustic, rural and laid back. Yet, it is worth a visit every evening till you are in the town. Best thing? The legend has it that more English is spoken in the West street than in the rest of China taken together.

XingPing Village- near the Yellow Cloth Shoal (RMB 20 note scene)

It was time to head to Yulong Bridge for Bamboo rafting in the Yulong River, equally scenic but far less touristy than the Li river. It was to be a lovely day. West Street, out of the town, cycling through the paddy fields to the Moon Hill. Then leave the cycle and go for the short hike to the hill so named because of a natural, crescent shaped arch with beautiful views of the town below. Get back, move on to the Big Banyan Tree, believed to be 1400 years old. Go further and explore some caves if you wish. And then to the Yulong Bridge for the best steal- bamboo rafting on the river so serene and clean that you can see the all the way down to its base! All this as the Karst Mountains look on smilingly. Get back to the West Street and unwind with dinner and wash it down with Liquan, the famous local beer brewed in Guilin.

Get up the next day for the famous RMB 20 exploration. The boy was so confused in the beginning with every second person selling him that tour- then he got it. This was to the place which is so famous for its beauty that China prints it on the back of 20 Yuan notes! The traveller in the boy never liked these tours. So he got the maps and the basics- went to the local bus stand. He was in XingPing, an ancient looking village some 45 minutes after. Lost in the rusty charm of the village he had almost forgotten what he came there for. He thanked the aunty when she showed him the Note with Yellow Cloth Shoal on the back and asked- no go? Yes Go, Now go- he almost screamed, thanked her profusely, paid the bill and ran! It indeed was a majestic view.

Next in line was Fuli, the birthplace of the traditional painted Chinese fan, just about 8km out of town. The boy had time on him- so he then went to the village’s pier and set off to Dutou, another village, aboard yet another bamboo raft! Aah, the beauty! Back on the land, an ancient village, 800 years old Liugong right on the banks of Li river was calling. One of the least touristy in the whole area and rather well preserved historical buildings like the Moon Pavilion and Home of Senators, what else could one ask for. Or one could, Near the village were the famous three-color ponds, evidently with three different colours of water supernatural tales. The locals believe that water levels in the ponds remain the same throughout the year, no matter what season it is or how much is the level of the Li River.

It was time to head back to the town. To come here again and again. Being in Hong Kong, just 4 hours away allows this, the boy thought and smiled. He had found his paddy fields yet again!

He had read about Han Yu’s description of the area 1200 years ago- “The river winds like a green silk ribbon, while the hills are like jade hairpins.”

Xi’an: A return to where Xuanzang came from

Posted on April 28, 2020 by Samar One comment

Happy birthday, Mr. Paanadey- the girl at reception said extending him a glass of fireball cocktail. She was clearly struggling with the last name of the boy from Babhnan. The twinkle in her eyes and happiness on her face was absolutely real though. The boy though was mighty surprised. How did you know, and realised! Oh, she would. She was checking him in with his passport. So that was why he was made to wait- she had some way to tell her colleagues and get him the drink! Xi’an had had begun on a high- both metaphorically and really!

Welcome drink for the birthday boy in the hostel. — Welcome drink for the birthday boy

The boy had first known about the city in his history books documenting the travels of Chinese monk’s travels in India centuries ago. Hsüan-tsang was the name he knew him by. How could someone walk thousands of kilometers on feet, he wondered. That too for going to a country he knew nothing about, not even its language. And he lived in India for 17 years. The boy was fascinated. He started dreaming of making the journey back, to the place Hsüan-tsang, known as Xuanzang in his own city.

Giant Wild Goose Pagoda, where Xuanzang returned to

He was there, finally. He knew, now, much more about the city though. Its rich history, the famous Terracotta Warriors, Pagodas, palaces, and monasteries. Chang’an (Perpetual Peace), as Xi’an was earlier known, was the capital of China for 13 dynasties and 73 emperors- for over 1200 years. Think, if you can, of any other city. Wait, did the boy tell you that the city is home to the biggest ever palace built anywhere in the world! The Weiyang Palace, the main imperial palace of the Han and many of the later dynasties. It was built in 200 BC, just a few years after The Terracotta Army, depicting the armies of Qin Shi Huang, the first Emperor of China buried with him for protecting him in his afterlife.

Back to the palace, it covered 4.8 km² (1,200 acres), about 11 times the size of the Vatican City for comparison. Sad that little, if anything, remains of that.

Of course, he first ran to the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda, the last home of Xuanzang to pay his respects. He went in, paid his homage, chatted with him, and came out. Then he noticed that the pagoda visibly leaned to the west. He was surprised at the same not having gotten the name “Pisa of the East” as every such similarity gets!

The boy from Babhnan with Xuanzang and his pagoda

The evening had started descending, in the city and that birthday of the boy. It was time to head towards the City Wall- first built in 190 BC and built and rebuilt ever since till 15th. The legend is that if you do not do three things before you die, you are not a real Chinese. The three are- climbing on the Great Wall (The boy did), walking/cycling on the Xian City Wall (the boy did), and finally- bamboo rafting on the Li River (the boy did). Gosh, has the boy from the Ganga basin become Chinese or what!!

The setting sun had turned the wall golden, a lovely golden rarely seen. The city looked beautiful. The boy cycled. Till he could. Soaking in the view, the history, the happiness. Cycling away to glory, and history! Just like he would, decades ago on the muddy roads of his small villages thousands of kilometers away. This city was to stay with him, within him, forever. And yeah- temperature was Minus 7 degrees. The first time the boy from the plains had experienced subzero temperatures. He was to have many more.

The Bell Tower with the Drum Tower in the background

The sun had set. The city below was glowing below, like a river of colorful lights. It was the time to return for that night- not knowing that yet another surprise was waiting for him in the hostel. The rather warm staff had prepared vegetarian dumplings for him- for the final birthday celebration. How warm their hearts were- just like the dumplings!

Aah Xian, my love! Those lovely days. Though never enough to live the city to the fullest. The Terracotta Army alone can keep one engaged for a full day.

Oh, how did the boy forgot the Muslim Quarters! So bubbly and vibrant that one could just fail to notice that this was the starting point of the Silk Road! Yeah, Xian is the city from where started the Silk Road, and the Muslim Quarter its exact location! The boy had seldom seen such a medley of cultures! And spices, of course!

Interestingly, the Muslim Quarter begins just after the Bell Tower and ends with the Drum Tower- both so Chinese! Aah, the amalgamation of the cultures!

The Grand Mask of Xi'an: the first mosque of China — The Grand Mask of Xi’an: the first mosque of China

And the Grand Mosque- the first-ever of China. The mosque has an entry fee for tourists- they refused to take from the boy, thinking that the boy was a Muslim. He thought of telling them that he wasn’t. Then he decided not to. Ultimately they all are the same. He put the money in the donation box instead.

Naans, Sheermals... Food — Naans, Sheermals…

Uncategorized

Ningde: Where the sea became farms

Posted on April 16, 2020 by Samar 2 comments

It was so surreal. Bamboos rose out of the sea, all the way till eyes could sea. The boy from Babhnan was in utter disbelief a second time in China. Yet to come out of rice farming on the mountain terraces in Longji, and here the sea had become farmlands growing Bamboo… Like how come, he asked Lin, his driver and the guide in Ningde, the coastal prefecture in China famed for perhaps the most beautiful mudflats in the world!

In Xiapu's Most famous sea farm — In Xiapu’s Most famous sea farm

Lin had a hearty laugh. They are farming seaweed, not bamboos, bamboos are there merely for drying weeds. It makes the autumn harvest easier.

Mudflats, also called tidal flats are many things. Found in coastal wetlands, they are a very important part of the ecology, a refuge for many species both of flora and fauna. The last thing one could imagine about them, though, was beauty, breathtaking beauty to be precise! What can be so beautiful about long expanses of mud, just mud, the boy had thought before undertaking this journey. He had nonetheless as he was intrigued by the pictures scattered across the internet. Pictures screaming that these were perhaps the most beautiful mudflats indeed.

They proved to be. They were a delight for photographers, even for the amateurish ones like the boy who would often keep the DSLR aside, daunted by its hundred controls and take recourse to his phone. Comes the sun, and the rays turn them into paintings capable of putting even the best of the abstract painters to shame! Former Sea Gypsies, the human ones, start their work walking on the mudflats, and they start looking magical! Whole villages, of course floating ones, on the sea. And the miraculous Kelp, a type of seaweed, that grows over half a meter a day and is sort of the hinge on which mudflats lives hinge upon.

And of course, they were a refuge for escaping the maddening chaos called metropolitan cities, a gateway to the times gone by.

Mudflats are also an opportunity for a mere human to emulate Jesus, and all others known for the legends like walking on the water! Comes the high tide and they disappear despite being firmly there- walk on them and those looking at you from far away can take you to be the next prophet. Not a bad thing, no?

A such a convincing fakery of village life in Rural China, it was all staged!

Mudflats are also a celebration of sheer human endeavor that can move the mountains as cliche would have it. They can also farm the sea, the boy was to know in Ningde. Yeah, all kinds of seaweed along with fishing and crabs and what not. All of this in beautiful gear in super vibrant colors, all of which are locally innovated. They could also build whole villages on the sea, a properly functioning ecosystem.

Receding tides, leaving day's catch behind — Receding tides, leaving day’s catch behind

Why did they choose to live on the sea, it is not easy, the boy suddenly realized. Lin came handy. His English was very rudimentary, my Putonghua did not even exist. But we were both armed with the magic called smartphones with Baidu App though- you speak into it in English and it translates that into Putonghua and vice versa. As expected, the gut feeling of the boy proved to be true.

They did not choose to live on the sea. No one does, knowing the vagaries of nature. They were rather forced to as they were Tanka people. The Outcasts of China, with many theories of their evolution. The most plausible one of them identifies as the descendents of one of the ethnic minorities, meaning non-Han Chinese people, from the first millenium BC and condemned to fend for themselves ever since. That they did, and did with elan. Exiled from the lands, they converted the seas into farmlands. They were denied a life, they built another.

Village on the sea… These huts you see are real homes

Tanka people are not treated badly anymore, Lin volunteered. They were brought back in the mainstream after the Peoples’ Republic of China came into existence, he added. You support the party, I asked Lin. A boisterous laughter was the reply- we do not talk about politics here in China.

I am definitely coming back here, the boy from Babhnan thought, six days were just not enough for a place this enchanting. There was so much left to know, like that colourful parade he came across. Lin had made him tick them all. Dong Bi, Xia Qing Shan, Ba Chi Men, Xiao Hao, Beiqi, Nan Wan, Yangjiaxi, Sha Wan, Yantian, the ancient town whose name he forgot. Yet he got to come back. To celebrate human endeavour. To salute the Boat People!

Lucknow to Longji Rice Terraces

Posted on April 14, 2020 by Samar 8 comments

Rice fields on hills? In small serpentine terraces cut over centuries? Small boy from Babhnan was in the Longji Rice Terraces in the Longsheng County of Guangxi, surprised to his wits end. Coiling terraces rising up from the foothills and going up all the way to top of the mountains is fine! Where do they get water though, he was thinking, perplexed. Growing rice needs a lot of water, after all.

Longji Rice Terraces: The Dragon's Back section in Ping'an. See the people? — Longji Rice Terraces: The Dragon’s Back section in Ping’an. See the people?

Surprise slowly gave in to nostalgia. He had grown up by the rice fields, a food grain central to the civilisation feeding over half of the world’s population. But the rice fields he has known, and has a few of his own, are all in the Gangetic plains. One which could be easily mistaken for giant ponds from preparation to planting! He remembered the days he would run to them and jump in the muddy rice fields, filled with ankle deep water. He would then have to run away from mom, hiding behind grandpa to escape beating. Layers of rice shoots had led him to layers of memories, longings and losses.

The terraces would soon become small rivers... then rice fields — The terraces would soon become small rivers… then rice fields

He was missing his own rice fields back home some 3,000 kilometres away from Longsheng. Rice, along with other crops, was the currency his ancestors had. Cultivating rice would get them their livelihood, their luxuries, howsoever scant, their travels, everything. Rice would get the small village boy education and set him on this journey.

Rice would take him to Lucknow, the first big city he got to know. A city known for its Tehzeeb, culture, and the monuments, both built by the surplus its rulers, the formidable Nawabs, got from rice cultivators. A smile had made its way to boy’s lips. Monuments built from rice surplus to rice terraces built by sheer human endeavour… Journeys!

His ancestors had fought among themselves to get the most low lying lands, preferably closest to the water bodies. That they were also the farthest from the roads and they repent now for that is another story for another time!

Longji too had become home. And its people, Zhuang and Yao from two minority communities in China, his own people. The Zhuangs are native to the area. The Yaos originated in Hunan and came here fighting persecution and became native. Oh the journeys! The boy from Babhnan to Lucknow to Delhi to Hong Kong to Longji, Yaos from Hunan to same place!

With a Yao aunty, look how long they wear their hair

Then, they started constructing the terraces- the Zhuangs in Ping’an and the Yaos in Dazhai and Tiantou in the Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368). Turning hills after hills into rice fields big and small, they continued until the early Qing Dynasty (1644-1911), when the hills had all become fields! Rising from the river bed that sits at 380 meters above the sea level and rises, with the coiling terraces up to whopping 1180 meters!

The boy from Babhnan in Longji Rice Terraces

Where do you people get the water for the rice from, the boy from Babhnan asked Qin,his friendly hostel owner (basically a traditional 3-story stilted woodhouse converted into a hostel)? He smiled and asked the boy to come behind. The boy did, going all the way up to the one of the most scenic terraces, me again, tired, yet excited with his running commentary which I would otherwise never had known- that’s my aunt’s house, built 200 years ago, that is the home of a friend who migrated to US and so on. The boy was getting to know even the people now.

See that round, white mountain top: people have made that a pond!

See that huge flat thing on the top of the hill, Qin asked! The boy, ever the son of the farmers, did not need a single word more. He has got it, with eyes wide open with surprise! The people had cut the top of the hills into flat bodies first, and then dug them into huge ponds to store water during rains! They then dug winding irrigation channels accompanying rice terraces! How did they do it? He wanted to ask, but did not. He was in awe of these people who rose to mighty mountains some 800 years ago, armed with primitive axes and shovels at the most and made fields out of them! Humans can indeed move the mountains, he smiled.

The boy from Babhnan had fallen in love. He has been coming to the fields year after year, season after season. To see the hills become rivers in the spring with terraces filled with water in preparation for sowing paddy. In summers, to see them turn into a sea of green shoots, neatly arranged. Then to see them turn into gold mines in the autumn, with ripe paddy ready for the harvest. He is yet to make it there in winters though, when the mountains turn into a frozen mystery with white snow all over! Soon, he would.

A village nestled in the terraces. — See the village nestled in the rice terraces?

He is sad, though, seeing the terraces falling to tourist trap since he first visited them in 2015 and hiked his way to Tiantou. There was no road to the village then, the reason he chose to stay there and not in Ping’an or Dazhai that had already fallen. He had then hiked his way up to the hostel enjoying the beauty and paying respects to the elders who created it. He saw a road being constructed to Taintou too, when he was there at last- in 2018.

Go, before it is too late. The boy from Babhnan would be happy to help with suggestions and inside secrets.

Tag Archives: Samar in China

Yangshuo: Silk Ribbon of rivers, jade hairpins of hills

Share this:

Xi’an: A return to where Xuanzang came from

Share this:

Ningde: Where the sea became farms

Share this:

Lucknow to Longji Rice Terraces

Share this: