Things you can buy in China for...
...less than $2 USD (13.6 RMB):
- One rice burger in Wuxi (無錫) (12 RMB)
- 60 minute full body massage or 45 minute foot massage in Chengdu (成都) (12 RMB)
- A night's stay at Maoxian (茂縣) (10 RMB)
- A bowl of delicious rabbit noodle soup in Wenchuan (汶川) (7 RMB)
...less than $1 USD (6.8 RMB):
- One winter hat at Jiuzhaigou (九寨溝) (5 RMB)
- A pair of gloves at Jiuzhaigou (5 RMB)
- Bowl of Lanzhou noodles (蘭州拉面) (5 RMB)
- A huge "loaf" of bread (饃) (5 RMB)
- Huge plate of sliced & stir fried potatoes (土豆丝) (5 RMB)
- A ride around town (4.5 RMB + tip) and a story to tell
...less than half a US dollar (3.4 RMB):
- One bootleg DVD in Chengdu (3 RMB)
- 1 km taxi ride in Maoxian (3 RMB)
- An hour bus ride from Dujiangyan (都江厭) to Mt. Qingcheng (青成山) (2 RMB)
- Huge bowl of egg drop soup in Beijing (北京) (2 RMB)
- One glove at Jiuzhaigou (2.5 RMB)
...less than a US quarter (1.7 RMB):
- Tailor service to get your bag sewn and fixed (1 RMB)
- Key replication service for additional keys (1 RMB)
- An hour bus ride in Xiamen (夏門) to the airport (1 RMB)
- Plastic Bag (0.1 RMB)
...for nothing (priceless):
- 143km ride from Ruoergai (若爾蓋) to ChuanZhuShi (川主市) in a nice SUV with pleasant people
- 17km ride from ChuanZhuShi to Songpan (松潘) and free travel recommendations
- Guided Tour thru Maoxian village ruined by the Sichuan Earthquake
- Guided Tour of Yemen Guan village ruined by Sichuan Earthquake
- Temple Masters on Mt. QingCheng to unlock their doors in the middle of the night to allow us safe passage
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Chongqing
After resting in Chengdu (成都) for a day, Baba and I continued on to way in Chongqing (重慶), which, while cheaper then Chengdu in many ways, was definitely a much faster pace, but much grimier city. In some ways, it resembles Hong Kong, with a lot of tall skyscrapers going up next to the waterways amongst the mountainous terrain.
We took a cab to the Hilton:
Hilton Chongqing was a Category 1 hotel, the lowest on the Hilton HHonors program. That meant a stay there went for an unbelievable bargain of 10K points! If the same hotel was in the US, it would no doubt be a Category 4 or 5 hotel.
View of Chongqing from the hotel room:
After checking in, we went out for a walk, and found a local restaurant to eat. We had some chicken in chicken soup, very spicy rabbit meat (but too many small bones), "ants crawling up a tree" (螞蟻上樹, a dish made of bits of pork mixed with vermicelli, the dish name is somewhat poetic), and some vegetables.
Afterwards, headed to the Yangtze River port, where there were cruises operating on the river to take tourists around for a view of Chongqing. We got in one of the mid-sized cruise ships:
The view back at the city:
Unfortunately, we also noticed the air was a quite smoggy and smelled very bad. Looking out, there was some visibility problems by some of the skyscrapers because of the heavy smog:
Chongqing was probably the most polluted city in China I had visited. It seemed even worse than Beijing or Tianjin. However, the skyline was nice at other areas:
Baba befriended a couple who was sitting next to us:
They were from Beijing. The husband is a writer, and the wife is a culture and travel channel producer. They had a son who studied in Chongqing, and were in town to visit him.
We had an interesting discussion about how one should really live life to the fullest. It's a question that's always worth pondering some more.
We took a cab to the Hilton:
Hilton Chongqing was a Category 1 hotel, the lowest on the Hilton HHonors program. That meant a stay there went for an unbelievable bargain of 10K points! If the same hotel was in the US, it would no doubt be a Category 4 or 5 hotel.
View of Chongqing from the hotel room:
After checking in, we went out for a walk, and found a local restaurant to eat. We had some chicken in chicken soup, very spicy rabbit meat (but too many small bones), "ants crawling up a tree" (螞蟻上樹, a dish made of bits of pork mixed with vermicelli, the dish name is somewhat poetic), and some vegetables.
Afterwards, headed to the Yangtze River port, where there were cruises operating on the river to take tourists around for a view of Chongqing. We got in one of the mid-sized cruise ships:
The view back at the city:
Unfortunately, we also noticed the air was a quite smoggy and smelled very bad. Looking out, there was some visibility problems by some of the skyscrapers because of the heavy smog:
Chongqing was probably the most polluted city in China I had visited. It seemed even worse than Beijing or Tianjin. However, the skyline was nice at other areas:
Baba befriended a couple who was sitting next to us:
They were from Beijing. The husband is a writer, and the wife is a culture and travel channel producer. They had a son who studied in Chongqing, and were in town to visit him.
We had an interesting discussion about how one should really live life to the fullest. It's a question that's always worth pondering some more.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Good Old Chengdu
Dead tired from our journey the night before, we finally got up close to noon. I headed for one of the neighborhood vegetable markets in Chengdu to pick up some mantous (饅頭) and onions:
The market had a very quaint and friendly atmosphere.
Later, I dropped by the supermarket, where I noticed some very interesting flavors:
Lime, cucumber, and blueberry flavored potato chips, anyone?
It was good to be back in the city.
The market had a very quaint and friendly atmosphere.
Later, I dropped by the supermarket, where I noticed some very interesting flavors:
Lime, cucumber, and blueberry flavored potato chips, anyone?
It was good to be back in the city.
Mt. Qingcheng: Passing Four Temple Gates, Part IV
The tale of my Sichuan travels is written as a continuous story and starts on the entry "In Chengdu" on Nov. 5th, 2008. For context and continuity, feel free to start back at that point and read on forward first if you have not already done so.
And so I dropped straight down on the steps, going with the fall instead of trying harder to regain my balance. My ankle was twisted, though only mildly, not bad at all. Larry rushed over to check on me.
“Jerry! Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I just tripped on the stairs slightly.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t think the light was strong enough from the candle. I’m okay, it’s not bad. Let me rest here a bit.”
As we took a break, as Baba also comes by to see what the matter was. “Heh, looks like no one leaves this mountain unscathed,” joked Baba.
We continued on gingerly after a few minutes, switching to flashlights again, as Baba agreed he didn’t find the light of the candle to be enough. Soon, we arrived at the 4th temple, which had its gates open, though no one was there. After passing through the deserted temple, we headed into the final stretch. Finally, at 9pm, we reached the main entrance at the foot of the mountain.
“We made it!” We were so excited to be alive, but there was no one else around. All the buses and taxis had obviously returned to Dujiangyan for the day. However, before we had more than a few seconds to contemplate what other options we had besides walking 10km to Dujiangyan, light from car headlights shone in the distance. It was heading towards us. We’re saved! As happy as shipwrecked sailors on a deserted island, we waved down the car as it came toward us.
The driver was a Mr. Zhao (趙), a bus driver who was off-duty, but just decided to go “cruising around” at night for fun. We were delighted at our incredible fortune.
“Can you take us to Dujiangyan?” we ask.
“Sure, but it’ll cost you 50 RMB,” he replied.
“Thank you so much!” we cried, agreeing at his offer without even bothering to negotiate. We dumped our packs in the trunk and hopped into the back. As we drove towards Dujiangyan, a thought crossed our mind.
“Actually, can you take us to Chengdu?” Larry asked.
“Hmm… maybe. How is 300 RMB?”
“Sure, that works. Saves us the hassle of finding another ride to Chengdu in Dujiangyan.”
Just then, the driver's wife called, checking up on him. After he finished speaking with her, he turned to us and said, “Sorry guys, I can’t take you to Chengdu. My wife won’t let me.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Well… she’s afraid of me being out too long…”
It was hilarious. Apparently his wife suspects he's having an affair. “Alright that’s no problem. Just drop us off at Dujiangyan.”
“I’m really sorry about that. Let me try to help though. I have a friend who is a taxi drive who might go there.” He dials up a friend. “Alright, I got you guys a ride for 200 RMB. We’ll wait for him by the bridge.”
After waiting by the highway bridge for a few minutes, a taxicab stops alongside. We get out and transfer our stuff to the other car. After thanking and paying Mr. Zhao, we hopped into the cab, driven by Mr. Yang, our new driver.
Weary from our adventures (we had spent 45 minutes climbing up, and about 150 minutes coming down), no one said another word in the car. We were too busy resting our sore bodies and relishing over our latest adventure. An hour later (52 km), we arrived back at Chengdu, safe and sound.
We decided to go eat a lamb hot pot.
It was a glorious meal.
And so I dropped straight down on the steps, going with the fall instead of trying harder to regain my balance. My ankle was twisted, though only mildly, not bad at all. Larry rushed over to check on me.
“Jerry! Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I just tripped on the stairs slightly.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t think the light was strong enough from the candle. I’m okay, it’s not bad. Let me rest here a bit.”
As we took a break, as Baba also comes by to see what the matter was. “Heh, looks like no one leaves this mountain unscathed,” joked Baba.
We continued on gingerly after a few minutes, switching to flashlights again, as Baba agreed he didn’t find the light of the candle to be enough. Soon, we arrived at the 4th temple, which had its gates open, though no one was there. After passing through the deserted temple, we headed into the final stretch. Finally, at 9pm, we reached the main entrance at the foot of the mountain.
“We made it!” We were so excited to be alive, but there was no one else around. All the buses and taxis had obviously returned to Dujiangyan for the day. However, before we had more than a few seconds to contemplate what other options we had besides walking 10km to Dujiangyan, light from car headlights shone in the distance. It was heading towards us. We’re saved! As happy as shipwrecked sailors on a deserted island, we waved down the car as it came toward us.
The driver was a Mr. Zhao (趙), a bus driver who was off-duty, but just decided to go “cruising around” at night for fun. We were delighted at our incredible fortune.
“Can you take us to Dujiangyan?” we ask.
“Sure, but it’ll cost you 50 RMB,” he replied.
“Thank you so much!” we cried, agreeing at his offer without even bothering to negotiate. We dumped our packs in the trunk and hopped into the back. As we drove towards Dujiangyan, a thought crossed our mind.
“Actually, can you take us to Chengdu?” Larry asked.
“Hmm… maybe. How is 300 RMB?”
“Sure, that works. Saves us the hassle of finding another ride to Chengdu in Dujiangyan.”
Just then, the driver's wife called, checking up on him. After he finished speaking with her, he turned to us and said, “Sorry guys, I can’t take you to Chengdu. My wife won’t let me.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Well… she’s afraid of me being out too long…”
It was hilarious. Apparently his wife suspects he's having an affair. “Alright that’s no problem. Just drop us off at Dujiangyan.”
“I’m really sorry about that. Let me try to help though. I have a friend who is a taxi drive who might go there.” He dials up a friend. “Alright, I got you guys a ride for 200 RMB. We’ll wait for him by the bridge.”
After waiting by the highway bridge for a few minutes, a taxicab stops alongside. We get out and transfer our stuff to the other car. After thanking and paying Mr. Zhao, we hopped into the cab, driven by Mr. Yang, our new driver.
Weary from our adventures (we had spent 45 minutes climbing up, and about 150 minutes coming down), no one said another word in the car. We were too busy resting our sore bodies and relishing over our latest adventure. An hour later (52 km), we arrived back at Chengdu, safe and sound.
We decided to go eat a lamb hot pot.
It was a glorious meal.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Mt. Qingcheng: Passing Four Temple Gates, Part III
The tale of my Sichuan travels is written as a continuous story and starts on the entry "In Chengdu" on Nov. 5th, 2008. For context and continuity, feel free to start back at that point and read on forward first if you have not already done so.
As Larry fell off the edge, he flipped onto his back and landed into a half-full dumpster. “Larry!” I rushed over to Larry as he lay there, immobile. Is he okay?
Larry groaned. “I’m alright, I’m alright.”
Baba had turned back and saw what the commotion was all about. “Lucky guy! If that dumpster wasn’t there to break your fall, you might be in real pain right now! Worse yet, you could’ve rolled down the ravine!”
“It's also a good thing he landed on his back - the pack cushioned the fall.”
Larry looked a little shell-shocked. I gave him a hand and helped him up, lifting him out of the dumpster, which had contained wooden planks and other discarded construction materials. It was rather fortunate he had his pack on; otherwise it may have really hurt.
By then, the monks in the 3rd temple had rushed out as well, hearing all the commotion. “Are you okay?” they asked.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Larry coughed out. We follow the monks through the 3rd temple, where they gave us candles to help us on the journey. New item! I felt like I was Link in the video game series Zelda, where you solve puzzles, find and pick up useful items in different rooms, and work to pass successive dungeons.
And so we continued on, though slightly subdued. Larry’s spirit seemed a bit broken, feeling a little less than invincible, and was nowhere as gung-ho as before.
The path had pretty much become a staircase going down the mountain, surrounded by a forest of very tall, upright trees. We turned off our flashlights to conserve the battery – we had no idea still how much further we had to go. Instead, we used the candles the temple keepers gave us, and though they were bright, they did not do a good job of providing directional lighting. As we neared the 4th temple, I tripped slightly on the repetitive stairs. Normally, it would be easy to regain balance on such a slight misstep, but my loss of stability was amplified by the weight of my bag. The next thing I knew, I was going down!
As Larry fell off the edge, he flipped onto his back and landed into a half-full dumpster. “Larry!” I rushed over to Larry as he lay there, immobile. Is he okay?
Larry groaned. “I’m alright, I’m alright.”
Baba had turned back and saw what the commotion was all about. “Lucky guy! If that dumpster wasn’t there to break your fall, you might be in real pain right now! Worse yet, you could’ve rolled down the ravine!”
“It's also a good thing he landed on his back - the pack cushioned the fall.”
Larry looked a little shell-shocked. I gave him a hand and helped him up, lifting him out of the dumpster, which had contained wooden planks and other discarded construction materials. It was rather fortunate he had his pack on; otherwise it may have really hurt.
By then, the monks in the 3rd temple had rushed out as well, hearing all the commotion. “Are you okay?” they asked.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Larry coughed out. We follow the monks through the 3rd temple, where they gave us candles to help us on the journey. New item! I felt like I was Link in the video game series Zelda, where you solve puzzles, find and pick up useful items in different rooms, and work to pass successive dungeons.
And so we continued on, though slightly subdued. Larry’s spirit seemed a bit broken, feeling a little less than invincible, and was nowhere as gung-ho as before.
The path had pretty much become a staircase going down the mountain, surrounded by a forest of very tall, upright trees. We turned off our flashlights to conserve the battery – we had no idea still how much further we had to go. Instead, we used the candles the temple keepers gave us, and though they were bright, they did not do a good job of providing directional lighting. As we neared the 4th temple, I tripped slightly on the repetitive stairs. Normally, it would be easy to regain balance on such a slight misstep, but my loss of stability was amplified by the weight of my bag. The next thing I knew, I was going down!
Mt. Qingcheng: Passing Four Temple Gates, Part II
The tale of my Sichuan travels is written as a continuous story and starts on the entry "In Chengdu" on Nov. 5th, 2008. For context and continuity, feel free to start back at that point and read on forward first if you have not already done so.
But Larry wouldn’t give up. He continued using the large tree branch as a cudgel to beat the door while calling for help. “Someone! Help! Please come open the door! We are lost in the mountains and need to get down!”
After about 10 minutes, His persistence finally paid off, and someone called back, “Alright! Stop yelling! We’re coming!”
“Alright, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Larry put down the stick and we waited for a few minutes.
The door cracked open; a woman with a candle asked, “Who are you people?”
“We are hikers on the mountain; we were on the mountain for too long and we had gotten lost. Sorry for disturbing you, but we are trying to get down – please let us through!”
“Alright.” She opens the door, and leads us through, along with another man. The second temple is quite large as well – it was definitely no simple matter to simply try to “go around,” as it occupied not just a good deal of surface area, but also a couple floors as well.
As we walk down the open staircase, she instructed, “Continue down through the gate below. Whenever there is a fork in the road, take a right. If you run into a pavilion, turn around.”
“Thank you so much!” We had just been saved, but still quite far from the bottom. So I asked, “Are there any more locked temples on the path further down below?”
“No, you should be fine going the rest of the way. Good luck!”
After crossing the second temple, the going go even more straightforward. The stairs were well polished stones, and much more uniform, making the steps predictable, if not repetitive. We continued the same formation as before, with Baba walking in front.
Larry had an idea. “When we get down there to the main gate, or even to the next temple, let’s all talk in English so they'll think we're foreigners from America.”
“Why?”
“Because they treat foreigners better than Chinese, and we’re not really supposed to be here. We can feign ignorance and get off without much trouble.”
“Okay…”
“So your dad and I will just shut up, and we’ll let you do all the talking, since you don’t have an accent.”
I agreed, though personally I didn't think it was such a big deal.
After another 10-15 minutes, we near the gate of the third temple. Baba walked on a few steps in front of us, while I tried to walk in line with Larry in order to help shine some light in front of his step. “Be especially careful during this stretch,” Larry cautioned, “since as we get closer to the end, that’s when we all tend to make mistakes.”
“I will.”
“So many times, when we’re almost there, we get careless and there’s an accident waiting right around the corn—”
Suddenly, Larry’s walking stick snaps in half. His hands scrambled frantically in midair, flailing wildly as he sought to grasp something to help regain his balance. As he cried out in vain and lost control, he stepped on the corner of a step, causing him to careen towards the edge. The additional 30kg weight of the pack was too much, and before I could react, Larry had flipped over, his body tumbling over the side of the mountain path...
But Larry wouldn’t give up. He continued using the large tree branch as a cudgel to beat the door while calling for help. “Someone! Help! Please come open the door! We are lost in the mountains and need to get down!”
After about 10 minutes, His persistence finally paid off, and someone called back, “Alright! Stop yelling! We’re coming!”
“Alright, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Larry put down the stick and we waited for a few minutes.
The door cracked open; a woman with a candle asked, “Who are you people?”
“We are hikers on the mountain; we were on the mountain for too long and we had gotten lost. Sorry for disturbing you, but we are trying to get down – please let us through!”
“Alright.” She opens the door, and leads us through, along with another man. The second temple is quite large as well – it was definitely no simple matter to simply try to “go around,” as it occupied not just a good deal of surface area, but also a couple floors as well.
As we walk down the open staircase, she instructed, “Continue down through the gate below. Whenever there is a fork in the road, take a right. If you run into a pavilion, turn around.”
“Thank you so much!” We had just been saved, but still quite far from the bottom. So I asked, “Are there any more locked temples on the path further down below?”
“No, you should be fine going the rest of the way. Good luck!”
After crossing the second temple, the going go even more straightforward. The stairs were well polished stones, and much more uniform, making the steps predictable, if not repetitive. We continued the same formation as before, with Baba walking in front.
Larry had an idea. “When we get down there to the main gate, or even to the next temple, let’s all talk in English so they'll think we're foreigners from America.”
“Why?”
“Because they treat foreigners better than Chinese, and we’re not really supposed to be here. We can feign ignorance and get off without much trouble.”
“Okay…”
“So your dad and I will just shut up, and we’ll let you do all the talking, since you don’t have an accent.”
I agreed, though personally I didn't think it was such a big deal.
After another 10-15 minutes, we near the gate of the third temple. Baba walked on a few steps in front of us, while I tried to walk in line with Larry in order to help shine some light in front of his step. “Be especially careful during this stretch,” Larry cautioned, “since as we get closer to the end, that’s when we all tend to make mistakes.”
“I will.”
“So many times, when we’re almost there, we get careless and there’s an accident waiting right around the corn—”
Suddenly, Larry’s walking stick snaps in half. His hands scrambled frantically in midair, flailing wildly as he sought to grasp something to help regain his balance. As he cried out in vain and lost control, he stepped on the corner of a step, causing him to careen towards the edge. The additional 30kg weight of the pack was too much, and before I could react, Larry had flipped over, his body tumbling over the side of the mountain path...
Mt. Qingcheng: Passing Four Temple Gates, Part I
The tale of my Sichuan travels is written as a continuous story and starts on the entry "In Chengdu" on Nov. 5th, 2008. For context and continuity, feel free to start back at that point and read on forward first if you have not already done so.
With Larry’s headlight, we could see that the road had made a sudden turn to the left, with a gaping concavity where Baba must have thought the road was.
“Baba!! John! Are you okay?” We called to him.
There was no response at first, just the sound of more breaking branches. Baba was scrambling to get back up, but the earth was soft and he was unable to hold on. He fell back down.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m only about 2 meters below you guys.”
“Don’t move!” Larry cautioned. “Give your hand to Jerry. He’ll pull you back up.”
He grabbed my hand, and Larry and I manage to lift him back up. It was a close call. Larry couldn't help but chastise Baba. “You were going way too fast! I can’t believe that happened! Safety first!”
Baba bristled with mild annoyance. “My pace was fine. The problem was my light was too faint, and I just didn’t see the road bend in time. Plus, what’s that hole doing here, right where the road bends? This is really dangerous!”
“It doesn’t matter anymore! I’m taking the front and controlling our tempo from now on! Give me my bag!”
Larry switched bags back with Baba, and assumed the lead with his more powerful flashlight. However, his pace was excruciating slow, with understandable, but nonetheless, overblown caution.
After walking for another 10-20 minutes, we came upon some lights – it was the first temple, which was just below us, with its gates open and inviting. However, we had trouble finding the path down to it. The trail seemed to curl away from it and head into darkness. On the other hand, the slope down to the temple didn’t seem too precipitous; after all, there were many trees there to hold onto. Larry, however, stopped us from going any further. "Stop! Let me find a safe way down.” While he was looking, Baba grew impatient, and muttered, "There's no need to be so careful." He soon decided to lean over and grab a strong sapling, using it as an anchor to transfer his weight to the next tree. Going from tree to tree, he quickly made it down the slope in a safe and controlled manner. I followed after him using the same method, though my momentum carried me too far and I almost continued going down the mountain.
Larry was slightly annoyed at our perceived recklessness. "Stop guys!" He found a branch to use as a walking stick, then slowly makes his way down the slope, holding onto trees along the way. “You have to be more careful. Follow my lead!”
“You’re being way too slow and cautious. There was no danger with that slope,” Baba countered.
By now, some of the people inside the temple had heard the commotion, and came over to us. Larry greeted them. “Hi, sorry to bother you, but we are hikers who got a little lost. We’re trying to get to the bottom.”
“I see. It’s rather late. Perhaps you should try to make it down tomorrow,” the monk suggested.
“No, we need to get to Chengdu today. Please let us know how to get down.”
“We will get the Shifu/Master (師傅). He will open the temple gate entrance for you.”
“Alright, thank you.”
The local monks led us inside the temple, before heading off to get the Shifu. The temple area was somewhat large, and we wandered down a few sets of steps, trying to find our way down to the temple entrance at the bottom. It was a relief that we could see our way again, courtesy of the lights at the temple.
The Shifu came out soon afterwards, and unlocked the gate for us. He instructed us on how to continue forward: “Remember, after you cross the bridge on your way down, take a right at the fork immediately afterwards.” We continued on our way, and now the trail was much easier to walk on. Instead of the dirt path filled with rocky stairs (or no stairs at all), it was paved with clear cut steps, made for tourists.
Soon, we came to a fork in the road. We picked the right side, but it didn’t look right, as the road soon turned back into a dirt path. “You know, this is like the Shaolin route,” Larry joked.
“Haha yes, made for Shaolin monks, definitely not tourists,” Baba agreed.
“But I don't think it looks like the right path,” Larry said. We heard a voice from above and looked up. Someone from the temple, which was above us, had spotted us and was yelling, “Turn back! This is the wrong way!” And so we did so. I checked my watch – it was already 7:45pm! Our prior estimates were way off. I let out a sigh, “We’ll be lucky if we get back to Chengdu by 9pm."
“More like 10pm.” Larry countered.
We retraced our steps back to the fork, and followed the “tourist route” downwards. After a bit further, we crossed a bridge, and took a right. It eventually led us to a path that steadily got rockier and more rugged. Rocks hanging overhead closed in on us, and a railing was put in place. Below us, we could hear the rushing of water – it was a waterfall or some sort of drop on the other side of the railing. There were no steps; just a semi-steep rock-lain ramp. We held the railing and leaned back, stepping through gingerly, trying to maximize the traction of our shoes to grip the decline.
“Is this the right way?,” Larry questioned.
“But we were on the tourist path, and it led us right here,” I countered.
“I don’t know. This doesn't feel right. I think we should go back to the fork and explore the other route." Even though the Shifu had given us clear directions on how to proceed, we doubted ourselves and headed back uphill to the bridge to take the other fork. However, soon it was clear it was the wrong direction. That road was heading back up towards the top of the mountain.
And so we headed back to where we were only about half an hour ago. The trail was somewhat steep yes, and a little out of character, but there was a railing. After crossing that stretch, the touristy route path returned.
“You see! It’s the right way after all!” I exclaimed.
“All we lack is confidence,” Baba says.
“Okay, while that was not Shaolin level, that was definitely a Wudang route,” joked Larry.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Wudang is one level below Shaolin. While this road was not as difficult as the "Shaolin-class" dirt roads, it's still cut to challenge those Wudang monks who couldn’t hack it in Shaolin!”
We continued on, occasionally singing our songs, often in a call and response format, into the deep night.
"Wei..."
"The breeze caresses my sailboat..."
"Moving with the rhythm of the breeze..."
"Taking me to the land of memories..."
"Wei..."
"The breeze caresses my sailboat..."
"Sweetheart, I long to meet you again..."
"And tell you of my heart's emptiness..."
“喂…”
“微風吹動我的船帆…”
“船儿呀隨着微風蕩漾…”
“送我到日夜思念的地方…”
“喂…”
“微風吹動我的船帆…”
“姑娘呀我要和你見面”
“向你訴說心里的思念. ”
The time seemed to pass more quickly and soon we arrived at the second temple, but unlike the first, the gate here was closed and locked. Furthermore, there was no lights inside, and when we knocked, there was no answer.
We looked around for another path, but found that the temple gate had completely blocked off everything. There was no way around – one side of the temple is built into the mountain, and the other side is a steep drop-off to the bottom. We looked at each other despairingly.
At that moment, Larry picked up a tree branch and started using it to bang against the gate entrance. "Is anyone home?" He cried. "Please come and open the door! We are just a few weary travelers lost on the mountain!" No one answered, but he continued desperately.
If we could not get through the temple, we would only have two options: to retrace our steps and brave the steep slopes to try to get down the way we came, or spend the night camped out in front of the temple. Neither option was attractive, as we neither had any camping gear nor the heart to attempt an uphill ascent that would cover our 1.5 hours worth of downhill progress only to face a dangerously steep descent...
With Larry’s headlight, we could see that the road had made a sudden turn to the left, with a gaping concavity where Baba must have thought the road was.
“Baba!! John! Are you okay?” We called to him.
There was no response at first, just the sound of more breaking branches. Baba was scrambling to get back up, but the earth was soft and he was unable to hold on. He fell back down.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m only about 2 meters below you guys.”
“Don’t move!” Larry cautioned. “Give your hand to Jerry. He’ll pull you back up.”
He grabbed my hand, and Larry and I manage to lift him back up. It was a close call. Larry couldn't help but chastise Baba. “You were going way too fast! I can’t believe that happened! Safety first!”
Baba bristled with mild annoyance. “My pace was fine. The problem was my light was too faint, and I just didn’t see the road bend in time. Plus, what’s that hole doing here, right where the road bends? This is really dangerous!”
“It doesn’t matter anymore! I’m taking the front and controlling our tempo from now on! Give me my bag!”
Larry switched bags back with Baba, and assumed the lead with his more powerful flashlight. However, his pace was excruciating slow, with understandable, but nonetheless, overblown caution.
After walking for another 10-20 minutes, we came upon some lights – it was the first temple, which was just below us, with its gates open and inviting. However, we had trouble finding the path down to it. The trail seemed to curl away from it and head into darkness. On the other hand, the slope down to the temple didn’t seem too precipitous; after all, there were many trees there to hold onto. Larry, however, stopped us from going any further. "Stop! Let me find a safe way down.” While he was looking, Baba grew impatient, and muttered, "There's no need to be so careful." He soon decided to lean over and grab a strong sapling, using it as an anchor to transfer his weight to the next tree. Going from tree to tree, he quickly made it down the slope in a safe and controlled manner. I followed after him using the same method, though my momentum carried me too far and I almost continued going down the mountain.
Larry was slightly annoyed at our perceived recklessness. "Stop guys!" He found a branch to use as a walking stick, then slowly makes his way down the slope, holding onto trees along the way. “You have to be more careful. Follow my lead!”
“You’re being way too slow and cautious. There was no danger with that slope,” Baba countered.
By now, some of the people inside the temple had heard the commotion, and came over to us. Larry greeted them. “Hi, sorry to bother you, but we are hikers who got a little lost. We’re trying to get to the bottom.”
“I see. It’s rather late. Perhaps you should try to make it down tomorrow,” the monk suggested.
“No, we need to get to Chengdu today. Please let us know how to get down.”
“We will get the Shifu/Master (師傅). He will open the temple gate entrance for you.”
“Alright, thank you.”
The local monks led us inside the temple, before heading off to get the Shifu. The temple area was somewhat large, and we wandered down a few sets of steps, trying to find our way down to the temple entrance at the bottom. It was a relief that we could see our way again, courtesy of the lights at the temple.
The Shifu came out soon afterwards, and unlocked the gate for us. He instructed us on how to continue forward: “Remember, after you cross the bridge on your way down, take a right at the fork immediately afterwards.” We continued on our way, and now the trail was much easier to walk on. Instead of the dirt path filled with rocky stairs (or no stairs at all), it was paved with clear cut steps, made for tourists.
Soon, we came to a fork in the road. We picked the right side, but it didn’t look right, as the road soon turned back into a dirt path. “You know, this is like the Shaolin route,” Larry joked.
“Haha yes, made for Shaolin monks, definitely not tourists,” Baba agreed.
“But I don't think it looks like the right path,” Larry said. We heard a voice from above and looked up. Someone from the temple, which was above us, had spotted us and was yelling, “Turn back! This is the wrong way!” And so we did so. I checked my watch – it was already 7:45pm! Our prior estimates were way off. I let out a sigh, “We’ll be lucky if we get back to Chengdu by 9pm."
“More like 10pm.” Larry countered.
We retraced our steps back to the fork, and followed the “tourist route” downwards. After a bit further, we crossed a bridge, and took a right. It eventually led us to a path that steadily got rockier and more rugged. Rocks hanging overhead closed in on us, and a railing was put in place. Below us, we could hear the rushing of water – it was a waterfall or some sort of drop on the other side of the railing. There were no steps; just a semi-steep rock-lain ramp. We held the railing and leaned back, stepping through gingerly, trying to maximize the traction of our shoes to grip the decline.
“Is this the right way?,” Larry questioned.
“But we were on the tourist path, and it led us right here,” I countered.
“I don’t know. This doesn't feel right. I think we should go back to the fork and explore the other route." Even though the Shifu had given us clear directions on how to proceed, we doubted ourselves and headed back uphill to the bridge to take the other fork. However, soon it was clear it was the wrong direction. That road was heading back up towards the top of the mountain.
And so we headed back to where we were only about half an hour ago. The trail was somewhat steep yes, and a little out of character, but there was a railing. After crossing that stretch, the touristy route path returned.
“You see! It’s the right way after all!” I exclaimed.
“All we lack is confidence,” Baba says.
“Okay, while that was not Shaolin level, that was definitely a Wudang route,” joked Larry.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Wudang is one level below Shaolin. While this road was not as difficult as the "Shaolin-class" dirt roads, it's still cut to challenge those Wudang monks who couldn’t hack it in Shaolin!”
We continued on, occasionally singing our songs, often in a call and response format, into the deep night.
"Wei..."
"The breeze caresses my sailboat..."
"Moving with the rhythm of the breeze..."
"Taking me to the land of memories..."
"Wei..."
"The breeze caresses my sailboat..."
"Sweetheart, I long to meet you again..."
"And tell you of my heart's emptiness..."
“喂…”
“微風吹動我的船帆…”
“船儿呀隨着微風蕩漾…”
“送我到日夜思念的地方…”
“喂…”
“微風吹動我的船帆…”
“姑娘呀我要和你見面”
“向你訴說心里的思念. ”
The time seemed to pass more quickly and soon we arrived at the second temple, but unlike the first, the gate here was closed and locked. Furthermore, there was no lights inside, and when we knocked, there was no answer.
We looked around for another path, but found that the temple gate had completely blocked off everything. There was no way around – one side of the temple is built into the mountain, and the other side is a steep drop-off to the bottom. We looked at each other despairingly.
At that moment, Larry picked up a tree branch and started using it to bang against the gate entrance. "Is anyone home?" He cried. "Please come and open the door! We are just a few weary travelers lost on the mountain!" No one answered, but he continued desperately.
If we could not get through the temple, we would only have two options: to retrace our steps and brave the steep slopes to try to get down the way we came, or spend the night camped out in front of the temple. Neither option was attractive, as we neither had any camping gear nor the heart to attempt an uphill ascent that would cover our 1.5 hours worth of downhill progress only to face a dangerously steep descent...
Mt. Qingcheng: The Ascent
The tale of my Sichuan travels is written as a continuous story and starts on the entry "In Chengdu" on Nov. 5th, 2008. For context and continuity, feel free to start back at that point and read on forward first if you have not already done so.
3:45pm
After we unnecessarily purchased bags and bags of tea, we debated our next move.
"We should probably head back to Chengdu - it's getting a bit late," Larry said.
"But what about Mt. QingCheng? We came all this way and it would be a shame to skip it when it's only about 10 km away," Baba countered.
"It's actually not that late," I intejected. "If we get there fast, spend an hour looking around, we’ll have plenty of time to get back down before dark."
"Alright," Larry agreed. With great conviction, he proclaimed, “Let’s do it! Let's go to Mt Qingcheng!"
5:15pm
After packing up our stuff, we had headed to the nearby bus station to take the bus to Mt. QingCheng, which was the last stop. The bus fare was 2 RMB each, but because it was the first stop, we had to wait around for a little bit before it would get moving. It ended up taking about an hour and a half to get there, including all of the waiting. We all got off, ready to head up the mountain through the main entrance, but Larry had a better idea.
"Let's not go up the route here - that's for tourists and visitors. I know of a back route that is free of charge."
"Oh? How will we get there?"
"Let's try to get a ride."
5:45pm
We had found a private car that was willing to take us to the back for 50 RMB. Howver, the driver Mr. Yang first went up a road that was stuck – there were parked cars on one of the sides, but traffic from both directions was attempting to pass through on what essentially was a one lane road. A traffic offical had to come by and direct traffic. By the time we finally got to the spot and disembarked with our large packs, it was half an hour later.
We past a house near the foot of the mountain, but the dogs there had spotted us long before and barked fiercely at us. Their owner came out to restrain them.
"Let me go confirm directions with the man," Larry said.
"I thought you knew where you were going!"
"I do, but it's been awhile since I was last here."
We approached the local to ascertain our route. "Good sir! We are trying to get to the top of the mountain. I know there is a path to the top from here. Can you give me directions?"
"Go on up the trail, continue past the big house." The man instructed. "There will be a section where there is a ladder that you will need to climb, and then you will be up at the top. From there, we can spot a path which will go down the mountain."
So we finally started out climb up. It took just several minutes before we reached the house. Baba and I waited there for a bit, until Larry made it up there (around 6pm) as well. We continued upwards. The steps, which were made of irregularly placed rocks, were getting rather steep – some of them were up to my knee. The climb was difficult, especially with my 20+ kg bag.
6:09pm
Baba and I looked back, and there was no sign of Larry. We had gone up too fast. I dropped my pack down and went back down to find him. He was a few stretches down below, laboring upwards, but still in good spirits. "Why don't you guys go on ahead, but wait for me at the ladder," he suggested. So I ran back up and continued forward with Baba, who was in excellent shape from all the hiking he did in Taiwan.
6:20pm
The steps were getting quite large. At some points, I almost had to jump to get up the steps – a misstep would mean a long tumble down. We decided to rest for a bit and wait for Larry, who managed his way up a few minutes behind us.
"You look beat. Let's trade bags," Baba suggested.
"No, I can lug my own pack," Larry pushed back.
"Come on, I've done a lot more hiking recently than you. Give me your loaded bag of rocks." Larry was fatigued, and so they traded bags. Larry's "bag of rocks" was about 30kg, while Baba had a light sling bag that was no more than 5kg.
6:25pm
It was almost dark by the time I got to a slight plateau in the climb, and I waited for Baba. Ahead was the ladder that leads to the top. It was standing vertically, and since it was almost dark, I was not sure whether the ladder was secured to climb upward, especially since I was carrying such a heavy bag. Baba offered to go up first, and he found the ladder to be sturdy. It must have been somehow anchored to the mud wall. I went up as well, and then we waited a few minutes for Larry to arrive and get up as well.
6:30pm
We had walked a few more minutes of uphill, before finally making it to the summit. We got a good view from the top of Mt. QingCheng:
"Looks like we made it just in time," I noted.
"Yeah, the sky just went completely black," Larry said.
"We actually made pretty good time too - 45 minutes," Baba observed.
"Yeah, not bad eh?" I agreed.
"Though if we hadn't stopped and waited around here and there, it would have been about half an hour."
"Hey you guys weren't carrying my pack most of the way up," Larry countered.
"Serves you right for packing a bag of rocks!"
"Alright, anyhow... let's try to figure out how to get down."
"We can't go the way we came - it's way too steep, especially in the dark with these heavy packs."
"Besides, there's no one there will be around to give us a ride."
"So let's just do what the old man suggested and take the tourist route down to the main entrance."
So we followed the directions according to the villager we talked to before climbing up, and started the path down. Larry had a headlight on his helmet, which he took off, while Baba had a small, solar-powered light that shined faintly. I didn’t have any lights except for my phone, which is way too dim to illuminate anything. And so we started down, with Baba in front, holding his small, dim flashlight. I followed behind, trying the group together, while Larry held the end with his headlight. It was difficult to keep up, as Baba walked a little fast, and sometimes he would not shine the light all the way back so I could see where I was going. Larry kept calling for him to slow down.
6:39pm
We had only been hiking downwards a few minutes when we spotted lights in the distance.
“It’s not all that far, I see lights! We'll be there in about 5 minutes!” Larry exclaimed.
“More like 15 minutes, probably,” I guessed. They were definitely not 5 minutes away.
We were in high spirits as we walked down, humming and singing mountain songs, even though we were, I suppose, essentially trespassing on the UNESCO World Heritage site, wandering half-blind on a mountain dirt trail in the black night. We start heading down the trail faster, as Baba was spearheading our descent with confidence. However, Larry was less than comfortable. He cautioned Baba again, “Don't go to fast, you'll --"
Larry's words were interrupted by the sudden sound of breaking tree branches and sliding stones. He shined his flashlight ahead, catching a glimpse of Baba and then no more. Baba had fallen off the side of the mountain.
3:45pm
After we unnecessarily purchased bags and bags of tea, we debated our next move.
"We should probably head back to Chengdu - it's getting a bit late," Larry said.
"But what about Mt. QingCheng? We came all this way and it would be a shame to skip it when it's only about 10 km away," Baba countered.
"It's actually not that late," I intejected. "If we get there fast, spend an hour looking around, we’ll have plenty of time to get back down before dark."
"Alright," Larry agreed. With great conviction, he proclaimed, “Let’s do it! Let's go to Mt Qingcheng!"
5:15pm
After packing up our stuff, we had headed to the nearby bus station to take the bus to Mt. QingCheng, which was the last stop. The bus fare was 2 RMB each, but because it was the first stop, we had to wait around for a little bit before it would get moving. It ended up taking about an hour and a half to get there, including all of the waiting. We all got off, ready to head up the mountain through the main entrance, but Larry had a better idea.
"Let's not go up the route here - that's for tourists and visitors. I know of a back route that is free of charge."
"Oh? How will we get there?"
"Let's try to get a ride."
5:45pm
We had found a private car that was willing to take us to the back for 50 RMB. Howver, the driver Mr. Yang first went up a road that was stuck – there were parked cars on one of the sides, but traffic from both directions was attempting to pass through on what essentially was a one lane road. A traffic offical had to come by and direct traffic. By the time we finally got to the spot and disembarked with our large packs, it was half an hour later.
We past a house near the foot of the mountain, but the dogs there had spotted us long before and barked fiercely at us. Their owner came out to restrain them.
"Let me go confirm directions with the man," Larry said.
"I thought you knew where you were going!"
"I do, but it's been awhile since I was last here."
We approached the local to ascertain our route. "Good sir! We are trying to get to the top of the mountain. I know there is a path to the top from here. Can you give me directions?"
"Go on up the trail, continue past the big house." The man instructed. "There will be a section where there is a ladder that you will need to climb, and then you will be up at the top. From there, we can spot a path which will go down the mountain."
So we finally started out climb up. It took just several minutes before we reached the house. Baba and I waited there for a bit, until Larry made it up there (around 6pm) as well. We continued upwards. The steps, which were made of irregularly placed rocks, were getting rather steep – some of them were up to my knee. The climb was difficult, especially with my 20+ kg bag.
6:09pm
Baba and I looked back, and there was no sign of Larry. We had gone up too fast. I dropped my pack down and went back down to find him. He was a few stretches down below, laboring upwards, but still in good spirits. "Why don't you guys go on ahead, but wait for me at the ladder," he suggested. So I ran back up and continued forward with Baba, who was in excellent shape from all the hiking he did in Taiwan.
6:20pm
The steps were getting quite large. At some points, I almost had to jump to get up the steps – a misstep would mean a long tumble down. We decided to rest for a bit and wait for Larry, who managed his way up a few minutes behind us.
"You look beat. Let's trade bags," Baba suggested.
"No, I can lug my own pack," Larry pushed back.
"Come on, I've done a lot more hiking recently than you. Give me your loaded bag of rocks." Larry was fatigued, and so they traded bags. Larry's "bag of rocks" was about 30kg, while Baba had a light sling bag that was no more than 5kg.
6:25pm
It was almost dark by the time I got to a slight plateau in the climb, and I waited for Baba. Ahead was the ladder that leads to the top. It was standing vertically, and since it was almost dark, I was not sure whether the ladder was secured to climb upward, especially since I was carrying such a heavy bag. Baba offered to go up first, and he found the ladder to be sturdy. It must have been somehow anchored to the mud wall. I went up as well, and then we waited a few minutes for Larry to arrive and get up as well.
6:30pm
We had walked a few more minutes of uphill, before finally making it to the summit. We got a good view from the top of Mt. QingCheng:
"Looks like we made it just in time," I noted.
"Yeah, the sky just went completely black," Larry said.
"We actually made pretty good time too - 45 minutes," Baba observed.
"Yeah, not bad eh?" I agreed.
"Though if we hadn't stopped and waited around here and there, it would have been about half an hour."
"Hey you guys weren't carrying my pack most of the way up," Larry countered.
"Serves you right for packing a bag of rocks!"
"Alright, anyhow... let's try to figure out how to get down."
"We can't go the way we came - it's way too steep, especially in the dark with these heavy packs."
"Besides, there's no one there will be around to give us a ride."
"So let's just do what the old man suggested and take the tourist route down to the main entrance."
So we followed the directions according to the villager we talked to before climbing up, and started the path down. Larry had a headlight on his helmet, which he took off, while Baba had a small, solar-powered light that shined faintly. I didn’t have any lights except for my phone, which is way too dim to illuminate anything. And so we started down, with Baba in front, holding his small, dim flashlight. I followed behind, trying the group together, while Larry held the end with his headlight. It was difficult to keep up, as Baba walked a little fast, and sometimes he would not shine the light all the way back so I could see where I was going. Larry kept calling for him to slow down.
6:39pm
We had only been hiking downwards a few minutes when we spotted lights in the distance.
“It’s not all that far, I see lights! We'll be there in about 5 minutes!” Larry exclaimed.
“More like 15 minutes, probably,” I guessed. They were definitely not 5 minutes away.
We were in high spirits as we walked down, humming and singing mountain songs, even though we were, I suppose, essentially trespassing on the UNESCO World Heritage site, wandering half-blind on a mountain dirt trail in the black night. We start heading down the trail faster, as Baba was spearheading our descent with confidence. However, Larry was less than comfortable. He cautioned Baba again, “Don't go to fast, you'll --"
Larry's words were interrupted by the sudden sound of breaking tree branches and sliding stones. He shined his flashlight ahead, catching a glimpse of Baba and then no more. Baba had fallen off the side of the mountain.
Dujiangyan Irrigation System
The tale of my Sichuan travels is written as a continuous story and starts on the entry "In Chengdu" on Nov. 5th, 2008. For context and continuity, feel free to start back at that point and read on forward first if you have not already done so.
After lunch, we discussed our plan for the remaining day.
"Why don't you guys go tour Dujiangyan Park (都江堰)?" Larry suggested.
"What about you?" we asked
"I would go with you guys except that I forgot my senior citizen card. It let's me get in for free."
"Just pay then. It's only 60 RMB."
"I'm not paying 60 RMB. I come here free so often that there's no way I'm paying to see the same sights. It's not a big deal; take your time, I'll just hang out here by the river until you guys are done."
"What about Mt. Qingcheng (青城山)?"
"Just come back here afterwards. We'll go together then."
And so Baba and I headed off to the entrance of Dujiangyan:
Chinese Chess Pieces in the square outside the entrance:
One question that had bothered us was we didn’t understand how Dujiangyan really worked. How could a static construction project help control floods and provide adequate irrigation under dynamic conditions? We tried to look for information on the pamphlets, but couldn’t find any. So instead, we headed into the park first.
"Wow, this park looks fantastic," Baba remarked.
"They must have cleaned up pretty well after the earthquake."
"It has been six months. "Why don't you take a picture of that building over there?"
We continued down the middle road towards the fountain:
The gardens on either side:
Fountain:
Continuing on down, the road was lined with statues. I only recognized the first one, which was a statue of Zhuge Liang (諸葛亮):
All the statues were of people who had helped improve and maintain Dujiangyan, originally designed and built by Li Bing (李冰). Baba was not familiar with most of them either, but there was one that stood out:
"It's Ding Bao Zhen (丁寶楨)!" Baba exclaimed.
"Who is he?"
"He was the governor of Sichuan. However, at one point, he was the head of Shandong Province (山東) during the Qing Dynasty (清朝). The story goes that there was once a powerful but corrupt eunuch serving in the court. Using his power, the eunuch would solicit bribes from the highest bidder to help make policy decisions. Unfortunately, it was common (though perhaps unspoken) knowledge that he was Empress Cixu's (慈禧太后) favorite, no one would dare touch him. One time, on Empress Cixu's orders, the eunuch entered Shandong Province, despite the fact that eunuchs weren't allowed to travel outside the palace grounds. However, upon entry, Ding Bao Zhen had him arrested immediately and executed! He then sent a memorandum to the royal court, proclaiming, 'Your servant has captured and disposed of the evil eunuch who violated Your Highness’s laws by leaving the palace grounds.' The Empress was upset but was unable to do anything about it since he only followed the laws set forth, and so she even had to thank him and issue a memorandum in his honor."
Afterwards, Ding Bao Zhen apparently became governor of Sichuan. The famous (and frequently Americanized) Sichuanese dish Kung Pao Chicken (宮保雞丁) is named after him.
We continued on, walking all around the park, and then to the actual irrigation system. Unfortunately, much of the paths to the temples on higher grounds were closed off since repair and reconstruction operations are going on to get the park back to where it was before the earthquake. However, these pictures from my trip in 2004 better shows what the irrigation system looks like from a more aerial view:
The centerpiece in the Dujiangyan system is the very first part, known as the "fish mouth" (魚嘴). It was slightly cracked from the earthquake, but still functional:
The fishmouth somehow divides up the river into the correct proportions, inviting the right amount of water to go to one side for irrigation purposes, and the rest to allow excess water to continue on.
Two other important components of Dujiangyan are the Feishayan (飛沙堰) and the Baopingkou (宝瓶口), and the latter is shown below:
Because Dujiangyan splits up the river into different streams, there were a considerable number of bridges to cross when going from one part to another. There was at least one concrete bridge:
And a couple rope bridges:
Things were a little different than I remembered it, but my memory was a bit hazy. The most noticeable difference is the inaccesssibility of all the temples in the park. One of the most prominent temples that had collapsed was ErWang Temple (二王廟), dedicated the Li Bing and his son:
Closer up:
Compare it to 2004:
Near ErWang Temple were signs illustrating the damage to Dujiangyan:
Huge progress must have been made in the last six months.
Afterwards, we headed back to the park, taking another route out to exit:
There we saw a lake, where people were feeding lots of orange fish. The number of fish crowding around the feeding area was frightening.
We then went through a garden, where there were miniature trees and small streams & waterfalls, well framed by the Chinese garden architecture pieces.
After we finished, we left the park, but Baba and I still wasn’t sure how Dujiangyan worked.
"Why don't we go hire a tour guide," I suggested.
"But we already left the park!"
"It doesn't matter. Let's find out how much they cost, and just have them explain it to us."
And so instead of leaving clueless, we went to the counter and got a tour guide for 60 RMB, even though we weren't heading back into the park. First, she showed us a model:
She started to explain: "There are three main parts to the Dujiangyan system: 1) the Fish Mouth at the front which separates the waters and the silt correctly, 2) Feishayan (Flying Sand Weir), which allows excess water to drain out via a dam, and 3) Baopingkou, which is the channel that distributes water to the farmlands, but has a narrow entrance that creates a whirlpool which carries excess water over to Feishayan."
"So why is it that the Fish Mouth can separate water at the right proportions regardless of whether the water level is high or low?"
"It’s because one stream was narrower and deeper, while the other is wider and shallower. During normal times, most of the water would flow into the narrow and deep stream (the inner stream), and irrigate the fields. However, when it floods, the majority of the excess water would go to the wide stream since the narrow one would be saturated. Also, the wider stream would carry 80% of the silt away."
We were enlightened. The design was genius.
"You mentioned that Feishayan was essentially a dam that could allow excess water to drain out. How did they dam it before modern dams?"
"It was with the stones tied up in the bamboo sacks that you must've have seen in the park," she replied.
"Oh those things!"
"Yes, they simply cut the rope holding the sacks and let the river carry them away when the dam needed to be opened. They can close it again by reattaching new sacks."
Though unorthodox in our use of tour guides, we got our money's worth. It's probably easier to explain how it all works via the model rather than walking around all over the park anyhow.
When we got back to discuss our next step with Larry, we saw he was talking with a lady who was selling tea. They had been talking about all sorts of topics for over an hour!
"Did Larry buy any tea from you," I asked.
"No... I tried to negotiate with him, but my lowest price was 100 RMB for 4 斤 (2 kg), but he would only pay 80 RMB, so it didn't happen."
"Oh really! Larry! I'm ashamed of you!" Baba exclaimed. "You've been talking this woman's ear off for an hour and you still won't give her any business!"
"Come on, John, you know I can't compromise on my principles," Larry joked.
"I'll tell you what - why don't I pay the 20 RMB difference?" Baba suggested. "Larry can pay the 80 RMB he thinks the tea is worth, and you will get your 100 RMB!"
It was a brilliant idea, and Larry, caught by surprise, bursted into spontaneous laughter. It was obvious he really didn’t want the tea, but could not say so after he had already named his price. We all cracked up, including the sales lady.
"You know we just talked to a tour guide about Dujiangyan - it was 60 RMB for 15 minutes!" wheezed Baba through the laughter, trying to catch his breath. "You got yourself a great deal - you're only paying 80 RMB but you got to talk to her for over an hour!"
Larry couldn't respond as he couldn't stop laughing. We paid 100 RMB in total, and were left with 2 kg of tea that we didn't know what to do with. After all, we could drink this tea for 3 years.
After lunch, we discussed our plan for the remaining day.
"Why don't you guys go tour Dujiangyan Park (都江堰)?" Larry suggested.
"What about you?" we asked
"I would go with you guys except that I forgot my senior citizen card. It let's me get in for free."
"Just pay then. It's only 60 RMB."
"I'm not paying 60 RMB. I come here free so often that there's no way I'm paying to see the same sights. It's not a big deal; take your time, I'll just hang out here by the river until you guys are done."
"What about Mt. Qingcheng (青城山)?"
"Just come back here afterwards. We'll go together then."
And so Baba and I headed off to the entrance of Dujiangyan:
Chinese Chess Pieces in the square outside the entrance:
One question that had bothered us was we didn’t understand how Dujiangyan really worked. How could a static construction project help control floods and provide adequate irrigation under dynamic conditions? We tried to look for information on the pamphlets, but couldn’t find any. So instead, we headed into the park first.
"Wow, this park looks fantastic," Baba remarked.
"They must have cleaned up pretty well after the earthquake."
"It has been six months. "Why don't you take a picture of that building over there?"
We continued down the middle road towards the fountain:
The gardens on either side:
Fountain:
Continuing on down, the road was lined with statues. I only recognized the first one, which was a statue of Zhuge Liang (諸葛亮):
All the statues were of people who had helped improve and maintain Dujiangyan, originally designed and built by Li Bing (李冰). Baba was not familiar with most of them either, but there was one that stood out:
"It's Ding Bao Zhen (丁寶楨)!" Baba exclaimed.
"Who is he?"
"He was the governor of Sichuan. However, at one point, he was the head of Shandong Province (山東) during the Qing Dynasty (清朝). The story goes that there was once a powerful but corrupt eunuch serving in the court. Using his power, the eunuch would solicit bribes from the highest bidder to help make policy decisions. Unfortunately, it was common (though perhaps unspoken) knowledge that he was Empress Cixu's (慈禧太后) favorite, no one would dare touch him. One time, on Empress Cixu's orders, the eunuch entered Shandong Province, despite the fact that eunuchs weren't allowed to travel outside the palace grounds. However, upon entry, Ding Bao Zhen had him arrested immediately and executed! He then sent a memorandum to the royal court, proclaiming, 'Your servant has captured and disposed of the evil eunuch who violated Your Highness’s laws by leaving the palace grounds.' The Empress was upset but was unable to do anything about it since he only followed the laws set forth, and so she even had to thank him and issue a memorandum in his honor."
Afterwards, Ding Bao Zhen apparently became governor of Sichuan. The famous (and frequently Americanized) Sichuanese dish Kung Pao Chicken (宮保雞丁) is named after him.
We continued on, walking all around the park, and then to the actual irrigation system. Unfortunately, much of the paths to the temples on higher grounds were closed off since repair and reconstruction operations are going on to get the park back to where it was before the earthquake. However, these pictures from my trip in 2004 better shows what the irrigation system looks like from a more aerial view:
The centerpiece in the Dujiangyan system is the very first part, known as the "fish mouth" (魚嘴). It was slightly cracked from the earthquake, but still functional:
The fishmouth somehow divides up the river into the correct proportions, inviting the right amount of water to go to one side for irrigation purposes, and the rest to allow excess water to continue on.
Two other important components of Dujiangyan are the Feishayan (飛沙堰) and the Baopingkou (宝瓶口), and the latter is shown below:
Because Dujiangyan splits up the river into different streams, there were a considerable number of bridges to cross when going from one part to another. There was at least one concrete bridge:
And a couple rope bridges:
Things were a little different than I remembered it, but my memory was a bit hazy. The most noticeable difference is the inaccesssibility of all the temples in the park. One of the most prominent temples that had collapsed was ErWang Temple (二王廟), dedicated the Li Bing and his son:
Closer up:
Compare it to 2004:
Near ErWang Temple were signs illustrating the damage to Dujiangyan:
Huge progress must have been made in the last six months.
Afterwards, we headed back to the park, taking another route out to exit:
There we saw a lake, where people were feeding lots of orange fish. The number of fish crowding around the feeding area was frightening.
We then went through a garden, where there were miniature trees and small streams & waterfalls, well framed by the Chinese garden architecture pieces.
After we finished, we left the park, but Baba and I still wasn’t sure how Dujiangyan worked.
"Why don't we go hire a tour guide," I suggested.
"But we already left the park!"
"It doesn't matter. Let's find out how much they cost, and just have them explain it to us."
And so instead of leaving clueless, we went to the counter and got a tour guide for 60 RMB, even though we weren't heading back into the park. First, she showed us a model:
She started to explain: "There are three main parts to the Dujiangyan system: 1) the Fish Mouth at the front which separates the waters and the silt correctly, 2) Feishayan (Flying Sand Weir), which allows excess water to drain out via a dam, and 3) Baopingkou, which is the channel that distributes water to the farmlands, but has a narrow entrance that creates a whirlpool which carries excess water over to Feishayan."
"So why is it that the Fish Mouth can separate water at the right proportions regardless of whether the water level is high or low?"
"It’s because one stream was narrower and deeper, while the other is wider and shallower. During normal times, most of the water would flow into the narrow and deep stream (the inner stream), and irrigate the fields. However, when it floods, the majority of the excess water would go to the wide stream since the narrow one would be saturated. Also, the wider stream would carry 80% of the silt away."
We were enlightened. The design was genius.
"You mentioned that Feishayan was essentially a dam that could allow excess water to drain out. How did they dam it before modern dams?"
"It was with the stones tied up in the bamboo sacks that you must've have seen in the park," she replied.
"Oh those things!"
"Yes, they simply cut the rope holding the sacks and let the river carry them away when the dam needed to be opened. They can close it again by reattaching new sacks."
Though unorthodox in our use of tour guides, we got our money's worth. It's probably easier to explain how it all works via the model rather than walking around all over the park anyhow.
When we got back to discuss our next step with Larry, we saw he was talking with a lady who was selling tea. They had been talking about all sorts of topics for over an hour!
"Did Larry buy any tea from you," I asked.
"No... I tried to negotiate with him, but my lowest price was 100 RMB for 4 斤 (2 kg), but he would only pay 80 RMB, so it didn't happen."
"Oh really! Larry! I'm ashamed of you!" Baba exclaimed. "You've been talking this woman's ear off for an hour and you still won't give her any business!"
"Come on, John, you know I can't compromise on my principles," Larry joked.
"I'll tell you what - why don't I pay the 20 RMB difference?" Baba suggested. "Larry can pay the 80 RMB he thinks the tea is worth, and you will get your 100 RMB!"
It was a brilliant idea, and Larry, caught by surprise, bursted into spontaneous laughter. It was obvious he really didn’t want the tea, but could not say so after he had already named his price. We all cracked up, including the sales lady.
"You know we just talked to a tour guide about Dujiangyan - it was 60 RMB for 15 minutes!" wheezed Baba through the laughter, trying to catch his breath. "You got yourself a great deal - you're only paying 80 RMB but you got to talk to her for over an hour!"
Larry couldn't respond as he couldn't stop laughing. We paid 100 RMB in total, and were left with 2 kg of tea that we didn't know what to do with. After all, we could drink this tea for 3 years.
Sorrow in Dujiangyan
The tale of my Sichuan travels is written as a continuous story and starts on the entry "In Chengdu" on Nov. 5th, 2008. For context and continuity, feel free to start back at that point and read on forward first if you have not already done so.
The driver drops everyone else off, and agrees to give us a small tour of the damaged areas. Dujiangyan, is a much bigger city than Maoxian or Wenchuan, but it looks like it was much more affected by the earthquake. There were many more damaged and unusable buildings:
But by no means a dead town – there were plenty of lively places as well:
There were also rebuilding efforts are also underway:
After the tour, the driver drops us off near Dujiangyan Park, the park that contains the world famous UNESCO World Heritage Site: The Dujiangyan Irrigation Project. Near the entrance, people were trying to sell all sorts of things – maps, food (corn on the cob, tofu, black rice, etc), toys, and newspapers. There was even someone trying to sell DVDs of the day of the earthquake. At first, I was repulsed by the fact someone was trying to make money off of the disaster, but then realized that it is precisely because of the disaster that people are trying to make money with whatever they can. And selling DVDs of the disaster not only brings immediately financial benefits, but also spreads awareness of the incident and allows people to better remember what happened here. And so I bought a DVD before we headed over to the riverside to have lunch at a restaurant.
However, our lunch was not a peaceful one. Every few minutes, someone would come by asking if we wanted to buy stuff. An old lady tried to get me to buy a map for the longest time. I felt bad, but I didn’t want to buy the map, and if I started buying even things I didn't want, I was sure I would be swarmed with more vendors pushing me to buy more things. We ignored her and kept eating, but she would not leave. Next came a newspaper vendor who was selling newspapers for many times the value printed on the newspaper. We declined this one as well. After that, other vendors also dropped by trying to sell Larry toys or tea leaves. None of this was around in 2004 when I visited Dujiangyan, when it was a much more prosperous city. Recent hardships have forced people to try to aggressively sell to tourists, which have made Dujiangyan somewhat more unpleasant.
The driver drops everyone else off, and agrees to give us a small tour of the damaged areas. Dujiangyan, is a much bigger city than Maoxian or Wenchuan, but it looks like it was much more affected by the earthquake. There were many more damaged and unusable buildings:
But by no means a dead town – there were plenty of lively places as well:
There were also rebuilding efforts are also underway:
After the tour, the driver drops us off near Dujiangyan Park, the park that contains the world famous UNESCO World Heritage Site: The Dujiangyan Irrigation Project. Near the entrance, people were trying to sell all sorts of things – maps, food (corn on the cob, tofu, black rice, etc), toys, and newspapers. There was even someone trying to sell DVDs of the day of the earthquake. At first, I was repulsed by the fact someone was trying to make money off of the disaster, but then realized that it is precisely because of the disaster that people are trying to make money with whatever they can. And selling DVDs of the disaster not only brings immediately financial benefits, but also spreads awareness of the incident and allows people to better remember what happened here. And so I bought a DVD before we headed over to the riverside to have lunch at a restaurant.
However, our lunch was not a peaceful one. Every few minutes, someone would come by asking if we wanted to buy stuff. An old lady tried to get me to buy a map for the longest time. I felt bad, but I didn’t want to buy the map, and if I started buying even things I didn't want, I was sure I would be swarmed with more vendors pushing me to buy more things. We ignored her and kept eating, but she would not leave. Next came a newspaper vendor who was selling newspapers for many times the value printed on the newspaper. We declined this one as well. After that, other vendors also dropped by trying to sell Larry toys or tea leaves. None of this was around in 2004 when I visited Dujiangyan, when it was a much more prosperous city. Recent hardships have forced people to try to aggressively sell to tourists, which have made Dujiangyan somewhat more unpleasant.
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