Democracy's Tooth-Ache

Very strange emotions… Scant...
There is little I can do about it,
But wait for the passing of the arid cloud.

I am in disgrace today
Communications limited, or faulty
My silence misinterpreted…

The news is always bad
Bizarre feelings of doom and gloom rise
Along the rising cost of a favorite wine.

The mirror tells me I am getting old
My body’s fine in its modified role
Once it craved for sex, now I worry about my soul.

Me worry? I am not alone
The whole world is getting on
Young together only yesterday…

Then I cared and stood for peace
Now I think… what for?
Let us have it… if it’s war we need.

Need oil though it pollutes the air we breathe
Some lack food and suffer hunger
Others eat to feed obesity.

If doomsday heat is drawing near
There’s nothing we can I do about it,
To save the economy is the first commandment!

While some abhor a monarchy,
Many fear the words - communist regime -
Others go to war to enforce a democratic rule…

Democratic states today
Seem less realms of philosopher-kings
Than places where hypocrisy is well paid

I could divulge opinions on the World's Great Religions,
But let it pass
The spectacle they provide is bad enough…


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Bangkok's Chinatown

Goodbye Chengdu, hello Bangkok

The flight was late and half-past-sunset by the time I checked into the ‘Grand China Princess Hotel’. In the heart of Bangkok’s Chinatown the Grand China was a great choice for two remaining days of travel.


I found my room on the 20th floor so pleasant I had to force myself out of it… With a great view and a big TV, it included a generous buffet-breakfast in the hospitable 15th floor restaurant.


Once out on the streets however, I found it hard to get back in. I always get satisfaction from street-walking anywhere, but Asian cities are by far the most entertaining.


I was unexpectedly snatched into the beehive-frenzy of all day shopping… Shopping and browsing through the wholesale district of Bangkok’s Chinatown, walking through a thousand stalls crammed against walls, in nooks and crannies of narrow lanes. The merchandise as varied as a Sunday market, all of it brand new and - Made in Thailand. -


I explored entire areas designated to particular types of merchandise, rows of handbags and luggage, lanes with oodles of very attractive custom jewelry, striking hair and beauty supplies, beads, and ribbons. Rows of cloth, clocks, watches, sun glasses, toys, stationary, mobile phones, DVDs, TVs, car parts, and everything else…


Most wholesale merchandise displayed both, a wholesale price, and a retail price for buyers who don’t want six of everything… I was fascinated…


I didn’t see gardens or parks, only two or three trees and a splash of bougainvillea, but potted plants thrived on the edge of every sidewalk. Awesome greenery,” I thought, “decorative dust barriers, noise blockers, someone’s pillow at night, and pride and joy of those who care for them… “


I did not search for religion but I did see a temple, small shrines where people scattered flower petals or stopped to say a prayer, and a peaceful Buddha like an oasis in the market place…

When I looked up I was amazed, for my friend Garry in Maple Ridge B.C. I took a dozen pictures of the power cables that crisscrossed below the sky.

Back at the hotel I took a shower and after dark for my dinner I walked the streets again… After dark, traffic slows down a little, most shops are closed, restaurants are busy and under a hundred neon signs, tables and chairs appear.

I ate a small noodle soup in one place and in another I ordered grilled fish and a vegetables dish. Then I walked and walked until I found my man again, the young man with the crepe stall. The most delicious crepes, cooked on demand, sweet or savory, served hot, hot, hot… he filled mine with banana, shredded coconut, and a topping of honey. Order your favorite combination…

I woke the man sleeping in the rickshaw. For the remaining Bahts in my wallet he took me for a spin and back to the China Princess Hotel...

King Monkey and the Peach Blossom Festival

I return to Sim’s Cosy Garden Guest House in Chengdu with a noisy, irritating and embarrassing cough. I was glad there was no answer when I called Allen for all I wanted for the few remaining days was to indulge my sorry state in bed watching Sim’s DVDs.

It was before 9am when I finished my breakfast of a rare glass of hot milk and a swig of cough syrup when a three-way conversation struck between the girl at the reception desk, a Chinese lady guest, and me. The girls said we should not miss the Peach Festival that was taking place in the hills outside Chengdu. The trip to the hills would take well over an hour with a change of two or three local busses. “Too complicated for me”… I thought.

Before I borrowed the DVD’s and return to bed, the Chinese lady said she had the day to spare and no particular program in mind, could we join together for a trip to the blossoming hills. When she heard my cough she handed me a fresh package of lozenges. What luck… I couldn’t refuse, nor hope for a more perfect companion… She effortlessly led the way, and I can honestly say I would not have made it without her…

Born in Malaysia she spoke Mandarin, Cantonese, English and Malay. When still a child her parents immigrated to Australia, she was married to a tall, handsome Australian, at present both were working and living in Beijing.

Her slightly cynical, good-humored philosophy coincided flawlessly with the brightness of the day. We got along well. Like a couple of school girls we took pictures of each other, pictures of the blossoms, pictures of the hills, of the skyline, the people, the food stalls... and talked as we shared our lunch among the peach blossoms.

I wanted to know the Chinese word for peach, She said it was t’ao. T’ao in China is the symbol of spring, eternal renewal, and longevity. . According to Taoist legend, Hsi Wang Mu, Queen Mother of the West, guards the Peaches of Immortality that grow in her palace garden.

As a gift to newlyweds a peach is a wish for happiness, the written character for T’ao is also that of marriage. The Chinese carve the figures that guard doorways out of peach wood as it is believed T’ao wood can repel evil spirits.

A peach blossom can allude to an early death, and a fallen peach blossom symbolizes a prostitute.

The cheeky mythological King Monkey, was a mortal born with magical powers. After more than 300 years of life, he was at point of death visited by two messengers who carried him off to the underworld. Once there Monkey inspected the Register of the Dead and found his own name: ‘Monkey: Soul number 1,735; 342 years and a fateful death.’ He deleted his name from the Register and returned to life.

On hearing of his daring escape, Yama , god of the underworld, sent Monkey to heaven where he could be supervised. There, mischievous Monkey ascended the heavenly hierarchy from ‘Keeper of the Heavenly Horses’ to Great Sage Equal to Heaven,’ and then to ‘Guardian of the Garden of Heavenly Peaches’ that belonged to the Queen Mother.

When the peaches ripened, once every 6000 years, The Queen Mother held a great feast so the Immortals by eating the fruit could renew their immortality. But Monkey stole and ate all the peaches himself, while drinking from the gourds filled with the elixir of immortality belonging to the philosopher Lao Tzu.

It was so that Monkey stole his immortality, and it was so that the day stole away… a perfect ending for a magical journey…

LANGZHONG

Why Langzhong? I was told only 220km north east of Chengdu, Langzhong merited a stopover before the emerging local tourism industry would promote an onrush of visitors… and before the inevitable invasion of the ever expanding frontiers of modernity…

I was also told when in town I should check out The Du Family Inn. I checked it out and checked-in, so gracious were (owner / manager?) Paul, and his staff of pretty ladies. The Inn, located in the heart of the old town is the sort of place where even the key-holes conjure some mysterious attraction.

In this ancient part of town with flagstone narrow alleys and sloping tiled roofs is easy to relax. Lacking 4-wheel vehicles, the streets are clean and quiet; actually if you want to go there, take small luggage as the only way to get to-and-from the Inn besides using your own leg-power is by bicycle rickshaw.

On an exploratory walk I encountered a peculiar old lady, she scanned me up and down, she playfully placed her right hand on her own chest and then on mine loudly repeating, like a mantra, FRIENDS… FRIENDS… - Taking my hand she took me through a series of narrow passages into her home.

I was motioned to sit next to an older smiling man who I assumed was her husband. The room was long and narrow resembling a wide corridor with sofas and chairs, exquisite silk embroidery paintings covered the entire walls and the man was watching pre-Olympic sports on a wide-screen TV.

After a few minutes squeezing my hand, she led me towards the river bank, pointed to the ferry-boat approaching the jetty, and uttering the mantra - FRIENDS… FRIENDS - she waved goodbye and disappeared.

I took the ferry across the Jailing River. I hiked up a hill’s tortuous trail towards a landscape of temples and shrines. As I approached a wide open gate, I came upon a couple of snarling dogs. I am not a dog-friendly person and as I don’t expect them to be friendly with me, I turned back and walked across the bridge. I suspect I missed something there…

My room at the Du Family Inn

Back at the Du Family Inn I had an early dinner of rice, green leafy vegetables that could be described as Chinese spinach, a heap of sliced zăngféi niúròu, a local preserved beef I ate nowhere else, and some delicious vinegary pickles.

Indeed Langzhong may be the vinegar capital of China. Everything smells of vinegar, local soft drinks are made with vinegar, vinegar recipes are jealously guarded and I’ve heard there are even public vinegar-bathhouses…

At night Langzhong literally lit up, Shoe shops, dress shops, jeweler’s shops, silk shops and noodle houses busy until late gave the city an atmosphere of holiday, a particular feeling of well been and safety. For what turned out to be my last night in Langzhong I was taken on a two-minute motorcycle ride to a Shadow Puppet performance, and a stroll along the river bank…

The Bus Ride

I intended to take a direct bus back to Chengdu, but… I got sidetracked after sharing a bit of conversation and two Bing Tang with an English-speaking guest at the Ludao. That’s why I was on my way to Chengdu, but not before a stop in Langzhong.

Fortunately I purchased my bus ticket the night before; it can be a frightening experience trapped in a long line up advancing one slow step at a time towards a ticket window, not knowing how the person on the other side will respond to your foreign “Ni Hao, Langzhong please…”

If you ever get that far to begin with; Chinese folk are not shy, can actually be quite swift at bus stations, before you have time to say “Hey, don’t do that…” they take place between your alien soul and the ticket window, and you step forward but never get ahead…

Almost everywhere however, there seems to be some out-of-the-way office or secret wicket reserved for foreigners, all you have to do is find it…

It was a long ride from Xian to Guangyuan where I would change bus to Langzhong, The sleeping girl in the photo who introduced herself as the Conductor, would let me know when and where this would happen.

She kept busy for an hour or so providing passengers with bottles of water, soda-pop, and packages of sweet and salty cookies. Later, when she was not sleeping she would flirt with the tall, good looking bus driver, or play with a couple of tiny turtles in a clear plastic container…

The highway appeared brand new; the bus smoothly cruised between mountains, coasted along the steep banks of a river, passing towns, villages, and mile after mile of beautifully cultivated fields. Almost perpendicular on mountains-sides, every bit of land available seemed to flourish with yellow-flower crops…

It started to rain, The countryside trough plump raindrops streaming down the dusty window looked like watercolour paintings…

We pulled up at a road-side eatery. Following the other passengers I took a plate and chopsticks and helped myself, buffet-style, to the best Chinese food I have ever tasted. Methinks I would go back for a second helping …

Back on the bus I perceived the handsome bus driver and the playful conductor had more interest in each other than a working partnership…

On the wet bitumen a few hundred meters ahead of us, a truck with a heavy load slid sideways obstructing the way… There was a long delay. I detected no sign of highway police nor sounds of ambulance… nor could I tell how severe the accident had been. Everyone remained silently calm, no one got off the bus, there was nothing we could do but wait…

Xian City Walls

For the admission fee of less than 6 Australian Dollars I embarked on the fantasy journey of the 18m-thick, at the base, 14km-perimeter of Xi’an’s City Walls…

There are four gates to the rectangular walls. At the South Gate entrance, climbing the last stair onto the 12m high bastion, I had the bizarre feeling of being aboard Noah’s Ark.

I read the present walls were built in 1370 by the first Ming emperor Hongwu on the foundation of the Tang imperial palace. They were constructed using rammed earth, quicklime, and glutinous rice extract.

At the South Gate there was a bicycle rental. For tired walkers or time-conscious visitors, battery-operated carts ran between sectors or entire perimeter of the Walls. I counted more people walking…

The views were spectacular. For parents and grandparents walking with children, or for the young at heart, there was a lively Chinese fairyland every step of the way...

I could have easily walked another 4 hours and taken a second gigabyte of photos had it not been for extinguishing digital-camera batteries and imminent sun set…

Hard to find lithium batteries in China, other batteries are cheap but of short duration, I soon learnt to buy them in large quantity…