At 12:42pm on the February 1st, this waiguoren (foreigner) went wandering. At the train station, still mired within the excesses of the previous Lunar New Year evening, my train sidled out of Shanghai thus bringing to a close my three-month sojourn in the city.
After China's most diverse city - Shanghai, the chosen destination was an obvious one - Yunnan - China's most diverse province. The variety on offer to the traveler in Yunnan is really quite astonishing ranging from the barren highlands of the Tibetan plateau in the north through to the lush tropical rainforests of the south. And the wide range of landscapes is more than equally matched by the province's plethora of ethnic minorities of which there are 25 officially registered including Tibetans, Naxi and Dai.
With only two weeks at my disposal, in an area roughly the size of France, a decision had to be made - where to go and what to see? With Southeast Asia ahead of me, what most appealed was the steady trip northwards to the isolated Tibetan outpost of Deqin, the Chinese Tourist Board's self-proclaimed Shangri-La, named after the fabled setting of James Hilton's classic book, "Lost Horizon".
And so it was after my 44-hour recuperation in transit, I arrived in Kunming and with that a hop, skip and a jump took me from dilly-dallying in Dali, to loitering in Lijiang and juddering in the cold of Zhongdian. The good news was that, at Zhongdian, I had reached the fringes of Shangri-La. The bad news was I had developed a horrific cold, so alas, I ultimately opted not to continue on to frozen Deqin.
During these two weeks however, it was invariably the wooden houses in the alleyways of the traditional old towns, just as it had been with Shanghai's, that held my attention the most. Lijiang's old town - Dayan, the principal home to the Naxi - in particular was one maze you were more than happy to get lost in.
The combination of winding lanes, weeping willows, rushing streams, arching stone bridges and Naxi architecture of the predominately wooden houses were a joy to behold. No wonder that UNESCO declared the town a world heritage site a few years ago.
There is something about these old towns and wooden houses that appeal to me. Be it in Shanghai or Lijiang, you invariably find the owners of these houses and their playful children with a perpetual smile on their faces as they go about their daily activities. There is always, I think, a real sense of community to be found in these places.
Of course, the laowai cynic may say, "Yes, these wooden houses may be quaint and pretty to look at - but you wouldn't want to live in one, would you?"
Yet in the Western world, people do - albeit perhaps in more salubrious dwellings. Be it the seaside beaches of New Zealand, the alpine chalets of the European Alps through to the wood-paneled Irish bars throughout the world (believe me, by the amount of time that some people spend in these places, they do effectively live there!), the communities you find there all seem to be infused with a sense of spirit and belonging.
Simplistic the sentiment may be, but an element of truth is perhaps contained therein. So I've got to thinking of finding myself a log cabin in the mountains somewhere, preferably with an Irish Bar nearby - perhaps, my own potential vision of Shangri-La!
(Shanghai Star February 27, 2003)
|
