Culture

Naxi Old Town-Lijiang

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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Lijiang has been designated a World Cultural Heritage Site by the United Nations. There are two kinds of Naxi dwellings built with wood, clay tiles, earth bricks and hard work…one is a courtyard enclosed by three dwellings and a wall and the other a courtyard enclosed by four buildings with a courtyard on each corner. If one story there will be three rooms….if two story there will be six rooms. The center room is used as a living room and the two side rooms are reserved as bedrooms for the elderly of the family. We watched the construction of one of these houses on a side street…after the pieces were laid out on the ground the villagers all came together for the house raising with ropes and manpower…the pieces being fitted together without the use of nails. We understand that after this the workers throw down candy and money and firecrackers are set off…then all work stops and the villagers share a meal together.

Just as the blood circulates through the human body, says the text on the back of the Lijiang map, so does the water, that originates just north of Lijiang from the springs at Black Dragon Pool, that runs through the Old Town. There are three main arteries of water that divide into succeding other arteries and veins that have been channeled by vertical concrete banks….the pebbled bottom visible through the crystal clear water. Restaurants, cafes and shops charmingly line these canals and the bridges over them.

On each trip to the center of town, the Square Market, we passed one of the many three-pit wells of the town. Granite walls separate the spring water into three separate picture perfect pits…the first used strictly for drinking water, the second for washing vegetables…the third for washing clothes. When the night falls, the local Naxi residents spontaneously gather for a circle dance around a bonfire…the Alili Dance that a woman pulled me into but was never able to master.

The town’s reconstruction after the earthquake coupled with the construction of a new airport has brought in an influx of Han Chinese entrepreneurs running tourist shops and restaurants for Han tourists that are pushing out the Naxi stalls. What used to be the preserve of hardy backpackers, Lonely Planet says, is now a major tourist destination for Han Chinese who only since the end of the Cultural Revolution have had an opportunity to travel the far reaches of their own country.

Lijiang & The Naxi People

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Once in Lijiang, we dumped our luggage at the Shangira Hotel (Y80 or about $10 for a double) that was recommended by Echo. I suspect she was getting a kickback for sending tourists there because it wasn’t anything special. Old Town Lijiang is charming and geared for Western tourists, which, after roughing it for a week was pretty OK with us…in fact I could have spent several weeks here…easy.

The Old Town of Lijiang, which an UNESCO World Heritage Site, is perfectly adapted to the uneven topography of this key commercial and strategic site, has retained a historic townscape of high quality and authenticity. Its architecture is noteworthy for the blending of elements from several cultures that have come together over many centuries. Lijiang also possesses an ancient water-supply system of great complexity and ingenuity that still functions effectively today.
We ate dinner at the Blue Papaya Italian Restaurant. There were two girls at the table next to us that were deep in conversation all through dinner; we wondered how they knew each other and what they were talking about…still sitting there when we left…

Sunday Dec 8
While eating breakfast on the street, I bartered with a Naxi woman for a bracelet…she asked Y250 I responded with 50 and we ended up at Y150. She recognized my earrings from Sapa Vietnam and gave me a thumbs up.

The internet terminals seemed to be divided up into one per cafe so I used the internet at Sakuras while Jana went to another cafe. I drank a 16 ounce Dali beer for Y6 or less than a dollar and emailed Jana at the next cafe that I was higher than a kite. She said she laughed out loud when she read it.

A guy from Canada and a guy from Texas were working at Sakura �s to help out the Chinese waitresses with the English speaking clientele…I said, hey you are from Canada…you’re supposed to be saying…and he finished my sentence…”aboot” and we laughed. And we said the guy from Texas was supposed to be talking in a drawl like a Texan…and he laughed too.

In the town square, Jana sat down to visit with a girl from Denmark while I listened to Naxi people chanting and singing under the trees.

We ate dinner at comfortable and cozy Sakuras that is owned by a Chinese/Korean couple…I had Hot Pot Naxi Noodles and Jana had Curry Beef Fried Rice. Later in the evening we met with Echo at our hotel…she shared her information about the matriarcal minority group that lives on Luku Lake east of Lijian and urged us to join her the next morning for the six hour bus ride there. We were still tired from our travels the week before so we declined. It is usually the guys who like going there as there is no such thing as marriage in the group and at the evening dances the girl invites her chosen man to come home with her by gently scratching the inside of his palm as she holds his hand. Children seldom know who their fathers are.

When I am back home and think about China, instead of remembering the Cultural Revolution and Tianenman Square I hope I remember the wonderful Naxi people I met here.

Zhondian to Baishuitai

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Friday Dec 6 2002
There were no street lights so we walked the equivalent of several blocks to the Zhongdian bus station in the dark to catch the 7:50am bus for Baishuitai. While waiting for the bus, we ate a steamed bun with chili and garlic purchased from a girl at her little stand.

I sat with the luggage while Jana finally figured out which bus was ours. We boarded the local “delivery and distribution” vehicle; aisles and roof full of sacks of unknown contents…but no chickens.

Many colorful ethnic minority folks, some of them the big-hatted Yi, got onto the bus as it climbed higher and higher across the mountain passes above 3200 meter Zhuandian. As families got on the bus everyone already on would greet them and smile.

One man and his family got on in the middle of a very small village…he sat in front of me and turned around from time to time to look at me. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he suddenly turned and yelled “hello” right at me! I laughed and he laughed. He opened a small round tin of yellow powder and sniffed it up his nose…what do you think it is I whispered to Jana…dunno…might be some kind of stimulant she said under her breath. He was fascinated with my face and kept looking at my writing. Two Chinese women so far have told me I look Chinese but I don’t know if that is why he was looking at me. Jana and I showed him pictures of our families. It was so cold on the bus you could see whirls of everyone’s breath condensing into the air.

The family got off the bus in a desolate place with the woman carrying the heavy sleeping blankets on her back and disappeared into the mountains….to visit relatives or going home we wondered?

Going over another pass we looked down to see some small buildings and some sheep roaming deep in a canyon. It reminded me of one of my father�s summer sheep camps in Oregon with a cook’s wagon and the sheep dogs hanging around the campfire…warm and comforting…deep within a small solitary place with the mountains looming all around.

A colorfully dressed Yi minority woman with a huge rhomboid head piece got on the bus with her husband two small children. A man and his little boy with shaved head and tuft of hair in front got on…I wanted to stick his dirt encrusted feet and body into a nice warm bathtub. The father sang/chanted a wonderful ethnic song the entire time he was on the bus….completely unselfconscious…seemingly oblivious of everyone around him…lost in reverie.

Jana remembered that it was almost Pearl Harbor Day. The bombs fell on the Philippines on December 8, the same day as they fell on December 7 in Hawaii on the other side of the dateline. We talked about the War that seemed so close to us now on this side of the world. Jana described what she knew about the war in the Philippines…the country where she spent two years in the peace corps after college. The topography of the countryside in and near Baishuitai where the local Naxi cultural people live reminded her of the sub cultural group-the Kankanai-in the mountains where she taught English.

When we got off the bus in Sanba, at the foot of the Baishuitai Plateau, a Chinese tourist from Taiwan that had been sitting on the bus in front of Jana paid Y10 or $1 of our entrance fee into the limestone terraces because the clerk had no change. “No, No,” I yelled as he disappeared up the hill on his day trip from Zhongdian to see the stone terraces.

Saturday Dec 7
We hiked up the hill and behind the Stone Terraces. The gorgeous pools of blue/white water is full of calcium phosphate and forms crystals as it runs over the edge of the beautiful stone �terraces� that are resplendent in the sunlight. The area is considered very sacred by the Naxi (pronounced Nashi) people who live in the town. Jana was blessed by incense as an old man showed her how to throw rice into a hole in one of the terraces as an offering-the privilege for doing so, 1 yuan.

We had lunch with Audrey, a young Naxi woman. Then Jana walked with her to another village and down a ravine to a waterfall. On the way back, the two of them walking together seemed to catch the imagination of a farmer they were following who was switching his cows up the deep ravine to the village. The farmer turned and wanted to know what time it was in America. Jana thought it was about 4am there since it was about 4pm where she was in China. Then the farmer and Audry talked…she gestured to Jana that China and America were just opposite each other. Jana was touched by the old man’s interest in the idea of the time difference and the fact that they were on opposite sides of the world with light on one side and dark on the other.

The electricity was out that night in the village so Audry cooked us a small dinner of vegetables rice and meat with charcoal and we ate by candlelight in her little one room cafe that also served as her home/bedroom. We admired her entrepreneurial spirit and desire to be independent but I suspect that it has also caused her grief because as we were leaving the next morning I asked her how she got the scars on her nose and face. She answered “fighting” as she raked her fingernails through the air.

We stayed the night a few feet up the street in a little unheated guesthouse that we never did find out the name of but was owned by Audry’s sister-in- law. We were in the middle of three rooms and became concerned about the knotholes and spaces between the slats that counted for walls when the other two rooms eventually became occupied by several young Chinese men later in the evening. In the middle of the night I chose not to walk up the hill at the back of the guesthouse to a smelly outhouse with squat toilet but instead used a small red pail with a lid provided for such use in the room.

We were told the bus to Lijiang would leave in the dark at 7:30am (all of China is one time zone) but at 9am we were still sitting by the stove in a cafe where the bus was to pick up it’s local travelers to Lijiang. The cowboy driver-complete with cowboy hat-leaned on the horn to let us know we should get on the bus…then he turned off the motor and we sat for another half hour before taking off with no breakfast.

On the way we visited with a small well-dressed young woman from Beijing whose English name was Echo who had gotten on the bus just outside Baishuitai. Later we found out that the reason the bus was so late leaving was that she and her fellow travelers had asked the bus to wait for them in the morning so they would have time to climb up to the limestone terraces!

We passed through a small village with children lined up by the sides of the road with musicians playing some music and waving some flags. Echo told us that young men spend two or three years in the army and they are welcomed back home this way because their army service is considered very important to the country.

Adoptions Of Chinese Children

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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In Guangshou we moved to Shamian Dao Island and stayed in the Shamian Hotel…right across the street from the White Swan Hotel where Communist dignitaries used to stay.

Of course we had to scope out the hotel and found about 20 American couples in the lobby all holding darling little Chinese girls they were adopting. China has a one-child policy and parents are fined heavily for any additional children. Consequently, since all Chinese families want boys, the little girls are often dropped off on the steps of government buildings and other public places. We have read that in the past they were often drowned and that is probably still going on in the countryside where there are few options.

One family told us it was about a two-year process which usually takes more than one trip to China and ends up costing about $20,000 per adoption.

I told Bob I wanted a little girl but he just gave me a cross look.

Westerners Go In The Back

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Thursday November 21 2002
Reading “The Coming Collapse of China,” a book written by a Chinese American economist…a dissenting opinion…he gives China five years to get their banking system in order…which he doubts will happen.

At breakfast at small noodle shop up the street in Hong Kong, seated at back table again. Waited for the waiter to clean off all the surrounding tables and then he finally came to take our order…hmmmm.

Arranged for Chinese Visa; Bob told the ladies that he picked Jana and I up off the street; another lady who heard this stuck her head out a door to see who it was that was picked up! Bob’s sense of humor will get us into trouble yet.

Took the Star Ferry from Kowloon across the bay to Hong Kong Island and took a cable car to the top of Victoria Peak for an incredible view of the city. Rode a double decker bus on it’s route through the city center; got off and tried to find a dim sum restaurant…but Bob was steered to a Japanese sushi restaurant instead so we figured he must be pronouncing dim sum wrong. Finally found dim sum (pronounced din sin in China) restaurant. Managed to order a few dishes from the waitress but never did get the rice.

By the time we boarded the ferry back to Kowloon it was dark and the buildings were lit…Christmas lights beginning to go up…rivals New York & San Francisco.

Repression & The People

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Next door to the restaurant in Taunggyi I struck up a conversation with a young university student who was tending a a small bookstore. “Can everyone speak (out) in America,” he asked. “Yes, we can,” I said, thinking I will not tell him about “politically correct” speech that I consider just as fascist as the rules perpetrated by his government.

A few people, forbidden to talk about politics with foreigners, tried oblique approaches to the subject. One man with delicious donuts on a platter came up to me at the market and said to me in perfect English that he used to be a teacher. Then he disappeared and returned a few minutes later with his wife who wanted to meet me. “She wants to go to America-so bad,” he said. I made several attempts to ask him to have tea and then dinner with us but was disappointed when he looked furtively around him and told me he couldn’t do that. The government has forbidden the people to talk to foreigners about politics but they are afraid to be seen talking to you at all as it could mean trouble for them.

However, in Bagan our hired tour guide for a day to view the pagodas, told me that some Americans once told him that that there was a lot of fighting in Burma but that he reassured them there was no fighting in his country. I bit my tongue thinking of the BBC special the night before that described the fighting between the ethnic minorities and the military near the Thai border where camps harbored thousands of refugees. American and European doctors regularly cross the border under cover of fire to care for the Karen tribal people who are suffering from a government policy of ethnic cleansing by burning their villages and killing the people outright or overworking them to death in forced labor groups. “I’ll bet he is a government informer,” I said to Bob. “I think so too,” Bob said.

The next morning as I am waiting for my breakfast in the top floor restaurant I watch as two monks enter the alley below on their early morning rounds. They stand outside the gate of a house and wait for the owner to come out. After a few minutes a woman does and immediately drops to her knees and bows with her head down to the ground. The older monk appears to give her a blessing and a few words. She stays on her knees as they walk to the next house where a man comes out with some food but he doesn’t get on his knees.

The People
Everyone assumes you are well intentioned. If you give them a smile you will immediately get one back-without guile or expectation. Waiters in restaurants wait on you with respect like altar boys at mass-putting the plate down slowly and respectfully in front of you.

Expatriates

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There are many expats in Bangkok who love this city and it’s people for many reasons. One day I struck up a conversation with a Brit woman sitting next to me on the SkyTrain who worked for an international finance company. When I told her we had been traveling for several months she noted that Thailand is addictive…people don’t go back to Singapore or Hong Kong she said…but they always come back to Thailand. “Write a book,” she says to me and then disappears out an exit.

After pleasuring sorrowfully to Mozart’s Requiem on September 11 at 8:46 am at St. Joseph’s Convent, we were invited to join a couple of retired expats from New York City to a breakfast of pastry and a huge bowl of caffe latte at La Boulange across the street. “What brought you to Thailand?” I asked one. “I came for a two week vacation and have been here 20 years now,” he says with a smile. How much longer do you think you’ll stay? They both quickly exclaim: “this is it!” “Do you have many Thai friends?” we ask. “No,” they say, “being retired we have no status. Regardless of how much money we have or what we have done with our lives or how much education we have, we have no status among the Thais… and status is everything here. “But so what?” they said.

A Bit Of Thai Culture

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Thai people are usually friendly, warm, charming and hospitable. Sanuk, the Thai word for fun or enjoyment is paramount to the Thai�s way oflife. For something to be worthwhile it must be sanuk. If it is not sanuk it will become boring. Thais can be seen laughing and enjoying themselves in whatever they are doing and if the enjoyment wanes the activity will probably stop. This also is true for the workplace.

If you are visiting someone’s house, take your shoes off at the door. And always bring a gift– fruit or candies as a nice gesture to the hosts. When someone asked you if you have eaten, it is often the way someone asks how you are doing. Try at least a bit if food is offered to you.

In most Middle Eastern and Asian countries it is very rude to put your feet up in presence of other people, especially if the soles of your feet are showing. This is a very common American gesture when we are tired but frowned upon in many countries.

Thais love their country and are happy to be here; they are simply disinterested in going anywhere else unless they have to. They are also very proud, especially of the fact that they have never been colonized, and even though they know their country has many faults and you will hear Thais complaining about the Bangkok traffic etc, foreigners should be careful not to criticize Thailand or the Thai people or especially the monarchy. To do so is a huge insult; the culture is extremely complex and even expats who have lived here many years will still make cultural mistakes. But to the credit of the Thais they will more often than not overlook these mistakes and continue to smile and be happy. This happy attitude and the level of tolerance makes Thailand a very easy and pleasant place to live.� Even though you never know what they are really thinking!

The phrase no problem (mai pen rai in Thai), is a national/cultural phenomenon (not only in Thailand but in Africa, India and in other countries) that is used to solve many predicaments and to avoid many confrontrations. Expression of anger is a cultural no-no and causes the angry person to lose much �face.� It is good to remember �no problem� when business vendors act like they are doing you a favor by waiting on you. The entire concept of customer service is largely either unknown or undervalued outside the U.S. and to be honest with you that is the source of most frustration for US travelers. Traveling requires a great deal of tolerance and adaptability.

Thais are very fond of His Majesty The King and he is loved by virtually all Thai people. The world�s longest reigning monarch and his wife the Queen have done much for Thailand and the Thai people; they have not set foot outside of Thailand for more than 35 years. One should never make any negative comments about the King or the royal family. To do so would insult any Thai. Similarly, Buddhism is the dominant religion and negative comments about the religion are not tolerated unlike in the West where it is common to discuss and debate religion and ideas.

In Thailand there is a “rule” or a way of doing something for just about everything that is the Thai way of doing things. An individual is not encouraged to think outside the box because to do so is to question others and that is not done because it will cause someone �to lose face.� For example Bob and I decided to go to a movie in Bangkok and as we were in the theater about 15 minutes before it started we went up to the ticket taker to give him our tickets. He looked at the ticket and said 9:12 pm you can go in! We asked if we could go in and sit and wait for the movie to start and he looked at us like we were challenging him with a gun and repeated “9:12 pm! 9:12 pm! Then you can go in!” The implications of not being able to question a rule must have huge implications in the international business environment!

Also in Thailand, two plus two often equals three! When we checked into our hotel the receptionist told us that the restaurant at the front of the building would provide room service. One day, I assumed that we could just sign for service in the restaurant. So when I tried to buy a coffee and was told that I couldn’t sign for it I went to the hotel receptionist and asked whether the restaurant could provide room service. She said yes it does. When I told her I tried to use the service she said “Oh, the connection isn’t made yet…and when I asked her when the “connection” would be made she answered that it wouldn’t be made until the end of the month! But it is at times like these that we grit our teeth and remember that this is not our country and we are here as (usually uninvited) guests.

Thai Food!

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Our favorite in all the world! In Thailand a fork in the left hand is held upside down and used to push food onto a large spoon that is held in the right hand (reverse for left handers of course). The food is then eaten with the spoon. Chopsticks are reserved for eating Chinese-style food eg. noodles from bowls of soup. There is no end to the variety of dishes.

Suffice it to say that the best food is freshly made and is purchased for just a few baht from the ubiquitous street stalls or carts where you can see the food and point to what you want. Then you sit at a small table on the sidewalk, usually on very small child size stools with your knees around your ears or you just stand and eat.

Walking past the carts, especially at night, can be rather daunting if you don�t want to stop and sample food from each of the hundreds of vendors! Our favorites are the soups in almost infinitevariations…each according the whim of the cook…noodles, bits of grilled chicken and pork cut from larger pieces hanging in the little window on the cart…bean sprouts…a variety green vegetables of unknown kind…various spices and herbs each of which get added to the bowl and maybe some coconut milk. The heat from the burning coals as you walk past adds to the heat and humidity of the weather and you feel sorry for the sweating woman (usually it is a woman) vendor. However, one day I wanted a stickfull of marinated and deliciously grilled �pope�s noses� or chicken tails. The lady tending the cart had fallen asleep on the steps where she was sitting and as I woke her to buy my selection we both laughed heartily…it�s ok, it�s ok I reassured her sweet apologies.

Bob has become addicted to Thai iced coffee…coffee yen…at least two or three a day. The vendor pours a little plastic sack full of ice. Then in goes the hot filtered coffee that has had sweet condensed milk melted into it. Then you are given the plastic bag with a straw and you are on your way!

Rickshaw Driving Lesson

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After dinner, Bob entertains the nearby date sellers by dickering with another rickshaw driver who makes the mistake of saying to Bob “You are rich man-why can’t you give me few extra rupees?” Bob shot back that “I have traveled all the way to India and now you guys have all my rupees!” He laughs. They think you are stupid if you don’t bargain hard.

They settle on a price and on the way home Bob is full of questions about the auto-rickshaw which is a three-wheeled device powered by a two-stroke motorcycle engine with a driver up front and seats for two or more behind. There are no doors and it has just a canvas top. They are generally about half the price of a taxi and because of their size they are often faster for short trips. And if you are a thrillseeker you will love it because their drivers are nutty–heading straight through the mass of cars and pedestrians wielding hair-raising near-misses! When stopped at traffic lights, the height you are sitting is the same as most bus and truck exhaust pipes so many riders wear kerchiefs over nose and mouth looking ridiculously like movie-western cowboys. Bob wheedles a chance to drive our rickshaw a short distance. Bob and the driver end up friends and the guy gets a tip for the driving lesson.

At 5am the next morning an auto-rickshaw driver offers to drive us 3 blocks to the train station for 20 rupees. After we are seated he says “20 rupees each!” Should have seen how fast Bob jumped out of the rickshaw! We don’t feel like cheapskates anymore as this style of bargaining is the norm in India and many other countries-the locals see you as ridiculous or naive if you do not bargain.

The internal struggle is over for me. The guilt is gone. I don’t even notice the beggar lady pulling on my arm. We are finally getting the hang of India and learning how to play their game. And I think we’re entering the last stages of culture shock. But haven’t had the courage to taste a “bhang lassi” yet! (A bhang lassi is a yogurt drink spiked with marijuana…)