words
chapter twelve.2 @
2002 May
life in suzhou:
A Tale of Two Villages
(or "Get Thee to a Nunnery")
Part 2
To go back to part 1, click
here
Brent's partner, Mr. Xiao's village sits near the foot of some small
mountains. It seems that a little while back, grandpa (83 years old) had
shown Brent and his partner where there was an old path on the back side of
the mountain that no one knew about. They had found it and with machetes had
cut through the over growth and cleared the 3 foot wide path up the
mountain. So Brent and I decided to go check it out. Mr. Xiao arranged for
one of those small, red, enclosed "golf cart" deals that pass for taxis in
the villages outside the cities.
Mr. Xiao and I and
the little red "taxi".
We hopped in and started on our way around to the backside of the
mountains. We were soon lurching along rut-filled, dirt roads through other
villages with no more than a one foot clearance between ancient rice-straw
thatch-roofed huts. As we came around the bend at the end of the mountain we
encountered a HUGE construction rig blocking the road. Worse than that, it
was in the process of widening a huge 4 foot deep 20 foot wide trench that
spanned the whole road. They looked at us and we looked at them. We jumped
out of the "taxi" and after asking, then pleading, and finally yelling at
the guy up in the cab, we convinced him to fill in and tamp down a 4 foot
wide rocky, muddy path across the trench.
Brent and I jumped out and pushed the "taxi" across (or rather through)
this mess. As we hopped back in, the construction guy flipped us the Chinese
"bird" (the little finger extended). We flipped him the western "bird"
(middle finger extended) and continued on our way. The taxi driver loved it.
He couldn't believe two foreigners with nothing more than backpacks had gone
toe-to-toe with a construction crew in a ten-ton Caterpillar Claw and won.
A little ways down the road, the "taxi" suddenly stopped. I looked around.
Nothing there but Tai Hu (Lake Tai) to the right with the beautiful mountain
islands off in the distance, and a sprawling orange grove spreading up the
lower part of the mountain that stood to our left. I followed Brent out of
the taxi and we entered the orange grove on nothing more than a two foot
wide path of pressed-down grass. If you blinked, you'd have missed this
"path". After a few dozen meters thru the grove, we reached the foot of the
mountain. Between two large bushes there was an opening about 4 feet wide.
There, a path started. It was a stone path, but the stones were overgrown
with grass and mud. It was obvious that this path had been here for
centuries. It was equally obvious that no one used it often.
The path up the mountain
It took me about 30 seconds to realize "This is the China that I had been
waiting for." Not only were there no tourists - there was nobody! Trash?
Yeah, of course; this is China. But there was only a little. I saw one
cigarette butt on the whole two hundred meter climb up the path. But every
20 or so yards I saw orange peels. Obviously, the last guy who had been up
this path had grabbed a few oranges from the trees for his climb up the
mountain. Other than that, nothing. Not a single other piece of garbage did
I see the whole way up. As the path rose higher, the bushes and trees gave
way to bamboo groves. About 2/3rds of the way up, we came to a small ancient
stone pavilion that must have been built there as a rest stop. Amazingly,
even here, there was not a single piece of trash. The inscriptions in the
stone benches were so worn, they could barely be made out. Brent told me
that when they had found it, the roof tiles had all fallen off. He said he
took a crew of woodworkers up there one day and spent half a day retrieving
the tiles and re-tiling the roof.
Brent at the hillside stone pavilion
After having a smoke, we took off again. At last, emerging through a dense
thicket of bamboo we found ourselves at the crest of the mountain. The view
was incredible. To our right was a still higher mountain in the shape of a
perfectly formed breast (complete with nipple). To our left was a deep
valley on the other side of which rose a slightly higher ridge of mountains.
And in between, the valley ran away from us directly to Lake Tai Hu. The
view was breathtaking. Lake Tai Hu with a few island-mountains a few miles
offshore, framed by mountains sloping lakeward from the left and right. And
from our bird's-eye view at the top of this mountain, I saw far below, the
unmistakable saffron and crimson walls of a small temple complex lying at
the foot of the valley.
The view towards Tai Hu from the mountain top.
(Note the new paved road under construction along the coast.)
The temple complex in the village below.
Brent told me this was a basically unknown temple complex that the
grandfather had told them about. It was a Buddhist temple.
Indeed, upon descending the mountain and entering the tiny village (maybe
12 houses in all) that lay next to the temple, I was torn by the
impoverished-looking conditions in which these people were living versus the
absolute pristineness of the villagers lives.
Descending from the mountain,
this was my first few of the village.
Click on the pictures to
see the big version.
(Suitable for desktop wallpaper)
As we walked through, the people smiled and were friendly. Not the
stupid-gawking and cries of hallooo!! you hear when you walk through most
places. Just warm, friendly nods and waves. They obviously had seen Brent
before, but not many (if any) other foreigners before.
No shops. No one rushing over to try to sell you bottles of water or
statues of Buddha peeing or anything commercial at all. No, of the 10 or so
people we saw, no one was trying to sell us anything. This was a "first"
(and probably "last" in China).
Two guys washing their clothes in a small pond along the road smiled, and
when I took their picture, simply asked me how much I had paid for my
camera. (Of course! This Is China! That's the first question anybody asks
here.
Yi Qie Xiang Qian Kan.)
Hey foreigner, how much did that camera cost?
An old lady smiled and waved and then went back to cleaning her fish.
Cleaned Fish
Drying out
A couple of old ladies were busy weeding their small soy bean gardens and
couple of guys were fixing a small motorized tiller that looked like it was
circa 1935.
Then we reached the temple and as we approached the gate, that large door
slowly opened and ....
... it was like a Chinese version of The
Wizard of Oz.
A short, squat (maybe 4'6") women in strange
clothing come shuffling out.
But this was not the Lollipop Brigade.
She beamed when she saw us and Brent introduced us. She was the head nun of
this temple.
Yes, this was a Buddhist Nunnery . It was a very small nunnery - a temple
with 4 or 5 small pavilions alongside, and a couple of living quarter
buildings.
The temple courtyard (under repair)
Brent and Mr. Xiao are now working with the nuns to restore some of
their woodworking and other pieces in the hopes of renovating the place and
bringing a small bit of prosperity to the place by attracting a few
visitors.
We were warmly welcomed by the nuns and the few
boys who were around the place doing renovation work. No one pressed us to
buy stuff or do anything other than wander around appreciating the wonder of
this place. Nevertheless, we bought a few packs of incense and burned it in
honor of the gods that dwelt here and in honor of our ancestors. We left a
donation in an empty bowl near the incense burner.
I traveled back there a few more times with my good friends. A new road is
being built along the coast of Taihu (Lake Tai) which may be finished by
now. If so, it may bring more people to my secret village.
I'm torn; on the one hand, the people there live such a simple, peaceful
life. On the other hand, why shouldn't they share in the prosperity that has
gripped China over the last 20 years? It's a conundrum that haunts me all
the days of my life in China. We foreigners often complain about the tourism
over-development of nearly every place in China. Ancient
hutongs
are torn down in Suzhou, Hangzhou and Beijing to make way for new
construction. Sure, it's quaint for us foreigners to see how life in China
existed hundreds of years ago. At the same time, there are real people
living in real conditions in these ancient homes and villages. Don't they
deserve, too, to have running water and indoor plumbing? Or should they be
relegated to bit players in a Kodak Moments™ for foreigners?
I'm pretty sure of the answer. But until the place is ready to handle the
waves of tourists and tour buses, I'm keeping it a secret.
Wo de Mi Mi!
Here's some more
pictures from my various trips to the Secret Village.
| 
