But wait, where are the leaping tigers?

Ben October 24, 2009

A whistle from above brings us to a halt. We turn to see the old man waving us back, the road we are on isn't right and we must descend the steep zigzag track to the brown, fast flowing river below. Carefully negotiating each corner so as not to loose our bikes down the steep slope, we reach the sandy river bank below. The old man calmly sweeps the area around a small room carved out of the cliff while a small baby in a sling on his back follows us with his eyes. He indicates for us to wait for the ferry to come. Meanwhile on the far bank, a horse is loaded on the rusty boat before pushing off from a safe landing place. The current carries the boat swiftly downstream until the roar of the engine brings it around and back up the where we wait. We load ourselves and the bikes and pull out into the current. The thump thump of the engine is all familiar sound of the standard Chinese engine.
With a scrape and crunch we arrive at the far side, our bike are unloaded onto a rock ledge with a near impossible access way leading to the washed out road above. We portage the bags and bikes in several goes across the boulders before pushing the 2 km up to the road above. Tiny lizards dart here and there as we disturb their peace. The rock strewn track indicates the infrequency with which this crossing is used.
We are now entering the Tiger Leaping Gorge with an incredible 2500 m or more between the peaks of the surrounding mountains and the raging torrents of the river below. After years of work, a road has successfully been blasted into the shear cliffs making for a great days ride along the length of the gorge.
The mountains ease back to rolling hills as terraced farmland takes over. Harvest time is in full swing as we loose altitude, fields are filled with workers harvesting, threshing and winnowing rice to feed the nation. Men run with huge bags to catch the abundant crickets between the fields, women replantthe next crops while men carry huge bundles of rice stalks to the roadside. It is like watching an ant colony from the outside, everyone is highly skilled at the task at hand and teamwork brings the food to the table. It's an incredible sight which stretches for hundreds of kilometers of the ride. I fell small and insignificant as my mind projects this incredible amount of activity to the entire nation where some 800 million farmers feed the soaring population of 1.3 billion in the same way.
After all this I had a relaxing week with old Chinese colleagues that I worked with in Sweden at their research lab at a military hospital in Chongqing. I was treated like royalty during a wonderful week of good food, good company tough table tennis matches.

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A Room with a View

Ben October 15, 2009

Hands waving and pointing in the picture book gives us little more than that we should follow the man on the motorbike who will show us a place to camp which is near the ferry, or so we understand it. We struggle to maintain pace with him as we pass cows pulling heavy trailers of corn stalks, ladies tending their herds, paddies laden with ready to be harvested rice and school kids yelling the all to familiar "Hello" which, along with "bye bye" are the only English words any countrysiders speaks in China. The road turns to a dirt track then road again as we take numerous short cuts, where are we going? All will work out I tell myself. We pull down a small lane and pass under a persimmon tree, I notice a small sign saying Guesthouse in English. We are shown a simple but beautiful room with a balcony looking out over the famous Tiger Leaping Gorge in the distance, incredible! Before we know it tea is poured and fresh, juicy pomegranates are placed in front of us. Available everywhere, this unusual fruit has quickly become a favourite snack here. We ask the price and are told 1 and 5, ok, 150 then? The man draws with one finger on his open palm, 15 yuan each, just US $2 or so. The previous night we spent 200 yuan for an incredibly noisy room in the crowded tourist city of Lijang.The advice we had been given on the roads was great but did not take into account the magnitude and frequency of the hills along the way. With limited time, we again flagged down a passing pickup and caught the last rays of sun hitting the fields through the dusty windows the
ever of the vehicle as it raced towards Ninglang. One less than happy, but not dead pig and several close calls with dogs later, we were again on two wheels in total darkness at an intersection somewhere. Speculating as always, we tried to predict where we'd be in an hour as we rolled through dark streets past card playing shop keepers and
barking dogs. Our speculation, for once, was correct as we tucked up into bed after another unknown but delicious meal. The landscape became lush and green as water cascaded down mountains sides to huge, brown rivers in the valleys below. Teeth rattling as we descended again on cobbled roads made it seem possible that we'd reach
our destination, but that was only a dream. As the light faded and the barking dogs didn't, we searched for a place to camp, cliffs and drops left little flat land for anything, only that which had been manipulated into terraced rice paddies, but these were far and and cultivated. At last a rocky outcrop appeared close to the road, we gingerly sett up camp trying not to put too many holes in anything on the endless sharp rocks. A man and his goats observed and left us in peace. Lijang hit us in the face with hundreds of thousands of camera happy tourists wandering the picturesque streets of this ancient city amongst unhappy looking locals who appear less than pleased with having to dress up in traditional costumes each day to create a Disneyland like atmosphere where everything is exactly how it 'should' be. For sure a beautiful place, it's hard to, in the famous words of the Lonely Planet, 'soak up the atmosphere' of this place when meter long camera lenses (mine included) clutter each scene and crowds gather in such volumes that you must pick your way through, careful not to stand on any toes. As with any such place, head one street east or west from the main drag and you find a quiet empty street to
yourself, but this is short respite from the madness. Pedaling north out of there offered quick relief until we reached the toll gate where we were obliged to pay not only a fee for passing through 'a natural area' but, would you believe and 8 euros just for visiting Lijang! Now we know that it is Disneyland. In China nature is canned and sold as a consumer product. It is not possible to experience it first without paying someone something. This creates an expectation of perfection, natural wonders are even modified to make them 'more beautiful'. Visitors centers in the natural areas are packed with bus loads of domestic tourists all vying to have their photos taken next to the man made rocks and water
features while the real nature is left more or less unnoticed. Walkways, viewing platforms and obtrusive signs naming individual features all make for the perfect picture while creating a tangible gap between what really is nature and the people. Luckily there are hundreds of authentic villages and beautiful forests and mountains to make up for the Chinese way of seeing nature which differs so greatly from my own. As the road descends towards. The Tiger Leaping Gorge we are treated to unforgettable views with
incredible interactions between sunlight, clouds and a multi coloured landscape, real nature.

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Chicken Feet and Chopsticks

Ben October 11, 2009

Drowned in mouth numbing Sichuan pepper, you must close your eyes and forget that you are eating chickens feet, somehow black in colour and chopped up in such a way so as to guarantee an annoying piece of bone in every mouthful of fatty skin. But, believe it or not, it tastes quite ok. Each meal is ordered by pointing at pictures of mushrooms, eggs, cow (or pig or chicken if met with a frantic negative head movement) and a general finger motion over the page with vegetables. Of all the meals so far, we have not eaten the same thing twice, but we have eaten amazingly well.
This is day 3 of cycling in China, and what a roller coaster it's been. Due to limited time we spent the first 12 hours on a packed train, scrounging for every centimeter of space we needed for any sort of comfort. Meanwhile a young boy slept under our seat and 20 others crammed into the space designed for 10. Among the hustle and bustle by some miracle, a wagon of hot food is ushered down the isle, over a foot here and a child there, but all without stopping the constant cry of, who knows, "food coming" maybe? If only I knew. Soon after the merchandise begins to circulate through the throng, first UV lights for helping with the Chinese obsession of checking for counter fit money, then flashing toys, cigarettes (even though it says No Smoking in the carriage, wishful thinking), tiger balm, tacky holograms and finally my favourite, a torch with a built in electric shaver! Just what everyone needs packed like sardines in a sauna-like train.
The bikes had to be shipped as goods separately, pay the money and hand them over to be collected at the other end the following morning. Works well if you use an elbow or two to hassle your way to the desk where dozens of locals "assist" the clerk by putting all their papers in place for her. In due course my papers make their way to the right place and two bikes are produced as shipped.
Chinese road builders are far less patient than their Indian colleagues, opting for steeper, shorter routes over the incredible topography of the Himalayan foothills. Sweat pours as I work for each turn of the pedal in the tropical heat. The weather cools, but the hills don't as we pass deep, rugged ravines, wide, lush valleys and numerous rivers stained brown from the over active erosion in this ever changing landscape.
It's not long before we are invited for walnuts, roast potatoes, apples, mandarins, pomegranates, cucumbers and Chinese moon cakes. Communication goes little beyond a smile and a hello in most cases, often we are met with just total silence. A curious stare or total indifference. It's not long before be arrive at a Chinese tourist attraction, an answer to why we are passed by hundreds of fancy Japanese and European cars everyday. It is the 60th anniversary of the Peoples Republic of China and the wealthy city dwellers are on holiday. After another gruelling climb our first glimpse of Lugu lake is a line of 200 cars waiting to pay a rather expensive fee to enter the national park. We fork out and head into the park where we are quickly invited to join a group of young people for dinner before cycling to the lakeside in the dark to pitch my tent on a deck out over the lake with at least 100 others. Here manyholiday makers speak English, a total contrast from the previous days.

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