Josh Feola

now available in web 2.0 
Filed under

buddha

 

Hong Kong - Hong Kong


















I've had two simultaneous overnight flights, multiple delays, and previous and prior moving engagements, so I haven't slept much in the past 48 hours. In another 48 I start class. The day after will mark one year from the date I first stepped foot in Asia at HKIA before connecting to Kunming last fall. I've made some unexpected circles since. Weird concentricities and tangents.

The next four months will be intense. On top of a bunch of last-semester requisites, I'll be writing my thesis on research I did in Guatemala this spring (and will keep up the travel theme here with ex post facto posts). I'm presenting a redacted version of this at the AAA's annual meeting this November. Also working on fellowships and trying to find a job.



Good summer. I have to sleep now.

josh

Loading mentions Retweet
Filed under  //   buddha   Hong Kong  

Comments [0]

Bangkok slang



Five clouded days in Bangkok, with occasional rays of light. I arrived at my hostel around 3 am and met my old travel friend Marianna. Spent the first day mostly just wandering around, recovering from mini-marathon traveling. Hung out with a few Thai dogs and wily strangers.





The next day was dedicated to exploring the snaking riverine routes connecting my area to Bangkok proper. Crazy fish scene. We wound up at a temple that had some kind of strange New Age Buddhism exhibit. I walked around snapping flicks while my friend chatted it up with an old monk. Chill day otherwise, picked up a c0 and some sketchy street food, these rice balls with surprise octopus filling. Headed to Siam Center (the site of the previous night's failed attempt to meet international pal Jeff Dobereiner, sorry buddy) to end the day with Batman in Imax.







Spent Tuesday dutifully sight-seeing. Actually just went to the Grand Palace, premier Bangkok tourist attraction. This was a crazy place, filled with about a dozen of the most elaborately decorated temples I've ever seen. There seemed to be no aesthetic theme aside from ostentatiousness. Every facet of every building covered with faux-gems, metallic paint and glass. The golden stupa is the most famous, but my favorite was a gaudy pillared green mirror building (above). Others looked like wedding cakes and a few were guarded by bizarre chicken men. Marianna said it best when she described the scene as a giant playground, each building designed by the whims of children. Not to sound insensitive. I think the buildings were all quite beautiful in their unabashed flamboyance, definitely a different feel from the simple stone and wood Buddhism I'm been accustomed to in my Asian forays. We also happened to be here on the Queen's birthday, so there was a total party vibe. Not really, but it makes it seem cooler.







The rest of the time was pretty uneventful, not necessarily in a bad way. I felt a bit uneasy about being in a new place with little previous knowledge and no language skills to speak of (with), and hanging out with a friend equally amenable to sleeping in, lazing around, and only venturing out for a few hours each day led to a very laid back time. No ambitious treks or trips. Mostly wandered around the city, checking out cool sites. Went to a crazy temple near the hostel covered with many-headed Ganeshas (above). Wandered by the riverside and jumped the fence to a dock housing a bunch of fancy boats. Wound up at one of the less-depressing zoos I've visited, scoped a giant anteater and spent some time in meditation with this Hermetic crocodile. "As above, so below."







On the last day we went to the Royal Art Museum, which was really cool, despite the fact that most of the royal objects were made within the last few years. More Thai opulence on display. Photos were prohibited but I snuck a few (no flash). Top: A tapestry woven from iridescent green beetle wings. The weavers have to wait until the beetles die naturally so their wings won't lose their sheen. And because Thailand is over 90% Buddhist, I suppose. Bottom: Silk embroidery. A huge deal here. A lot of the pieces were very "painterly" but they had an absorbing sense of texture. I especially liked the dark, colorless ones. Night creatures.


ODDS AND ENDS:



Street juice: some concoction of grape, dragonfruit, beet, carrot, and other unknown ingredients. Copped on two separate occasions. "where's the purple stuff again?/I can't get enough of it"



MANGOSTEEN: King of Fruits. Too fragile/FDA-unapproved to be sold anywhere outside of SE Asia. Ate a grip of these. "where's that purple stuff again?/I'm on some same color shit"



Streetcakes shaped like anime dudes. Did not cop but I appreciate this man's street food design skills.



Airport sculpture on the way out of town. Marianna, somewhat of a Hindu expert, explained the myth to me but I already forgot it. I'll ask her and edit this before you read it and realize my ignorance. Special shoot outs to Vishnu/Krishna, Gucci and Chanel.


ENDS AND MEANS:



Cool street sign. Street signs point directions. Tell you how to go from one place to another even if they don't tell you why. I am now in China. It seems like home. Kunming is one place where I somehow don't feel like a visitor. I've been reading books and signs to try to plan my next few weeks in China. I have some direction and some space to be aimless. Still a bit cloudy here so I'll keep going north...

-Josh

Loading mentions Retweet
Filed under  //   bad memories   Bangkok   buddha   Grand Palace   Lil' Wayne   street food   Thailand   the Batman  

Comments [0]

Ubud it

My last day in Indonesia. It feels strange to be leaving. Especially now, when I feel I've really found my niche. About that:





I've been in Ubud, Bali for the last four days. Ubud is in the hilly central part of Bali, on the way to the mountainous interior of the island. It is definitely much quieter than Kuta. The landscape is dotted primarily with Balinese Hindu temples and rice paddies (above), and a long chain of hostels and restaurants in the center of town. It is the cheapest place I've been in Indonesia. I was stressed about not having a reservation when I arrived in town at 8 pm, but immediately upon stepping out of the shuttle I got hooked up with a clean, spacious single bedroom with hot shower and free breakfast for $6 USD/night (expensive by Ubud standards; there are more novelties than you might expect in that string of amenities).





Spent my first morning wandering around the "Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary." Chilled with the troupes and hung with these komodo guys carved out of tree roots.







Inside the park I checked this out, Pura Dalem Agung, "Temple of the Dead." Total Temple of Doom style. I guess it is called that because of the demon art and numerous statues of some bitter old woman eating babies. Also peeped this ill jaggertooth on the side of the building. Kind of a creepy place, but good hang spot.



Lunch pickup: nasi campur, Bali special rice with tempe, veggies, and some kind of salty paste thing. Also pictured: lemongrass ginger lemonade. Ubud has been the best food spot by far.








That night I went to a nearby temple to check out kecak, a Balinese traditional dance. The performance involved about 50 dudes sitting in a circle, rhythmically chanting and shaking their hands, while various elaborately bejeweled dancers went into some kind of fire trance. At the end this horse dude came out and started kicking around the embers, basically just getting in a fight with the fire. Weird. Think it had something to do with the Ramayana. I didn't have my audio recorder on me, my bad.







The next day I hit up some more requisite archaeological sites. If you know me you know I'm a sucker for creepy cave art, so Goa Gajah, or elephant cave (above) was highest on my list. I rented a bike from some sketchy dude outside my hostel and made the 2 mile trip, sweat about 15 lbs off. Once there I had to adopt a Hindu sarong and Buddha dot. The cave itself was sick, the whole entrance is carved to appear as the mouth of a demon. Inside is a lil Ganesha and some linga.





Then a hike through some more rice paddies and arty villages brought me here, Yeh Puluh, a cliffside with 13th-century Hindu narrative imagery carved into its face. Sick of ancient bas relief stone carving? I'm not (almost am).

I was thoroughly thrashed from the bike ride so I napped out hard when I got home. Then I woke up and wandered down the street from my hostel to a hippy macro/vegan spot with wifi and decent coffee. Creature comforts. Had to endure a fair number of spacey conversations in my periphery, New Age wonks and washed up salty dogs are the water jocks to Ubud's Gili. I hung out with an ancient Australian man who was working on his daily bottle of red wine, he was chill, that special type of ex-pat who ends up in SE Asia after Latin America becomes too expensive. We talked about the Inca for a bit, then I said goodbye and told him to enjoy the rest of his trip. He replied, "And you enjoy the rest of your life."







Later that night I rambled into a gamelan shop to catch some wayang kulit, a traditional Balinese shadow puppet show. At first it was cool, the music was really frantic and harsh and the singing was shrill and dense. Then after about an hour the puppeteers switched to wacky English dialogue in a vague attempt at humor, and I left. Videos to come if I can figure that out.


Small things:









Balinese offerings. I'm way into these little things. I think they have something to do with Hinduism, or represent some vestige of indigenous religion. They usually feature cooked rice, incense, banana leaf, a ritz cracker or two, sometimes some money. They are all over the streets, in front of every shop. Sometimes they are hung from power lines. Sometimes they are eaten by monkeys. A small, colorful part of Bali that will stick in my memory.







Caught Olympics opening ceremonies at a local bar, or what I could between annoying Indonesian commercials. Pretty standard "Chinese culture" fare but I thought it was pretty good, actually gave me chills at some points, at the risk of sounding ridiculous. And I'm quite impressed by China's ability to control weather.



"schemin with this keenen/aimin with this damon/i'm puttin that major pain in/my little man is on ya/marlon and shawn ya"



Now I'm in the Dewa Lounge of Denpasar International, waiting for a flight to Jakarta then connecting on to Bangkok. Spent my last rupiah to hang with some wifi, all you can eat nasi and an open bar (sorry dad, no Bali shirts; don't worry M, I'll sleep it off before I arrive). Ending my stay in Indonesia on the highest possible note. Sorry for the book, Ubud was that good. I hope to come back sometime. For now I'm headed north. I'm a bit anxious at the prospect of subsisting in a country in which I have absolutely NO language skills. I have to look up Thai for "thank you" and "excuse me." My plans are still thankfully unformed. I'll let you know what I'm up to when I do.


Josh

Loading mentions Retweet
Filed under  //   Bali   buddha   Fabolous   Goa Gajah   Indonesia   kecak   New Age wonks   Olympics   Pura Dalem Agung   Ubud   wayang kulit   Yeh Puluh  

Comments [0]

505 Buddhas

Packed weekend. On Friday, after wrapping up my first week of classes by teaching my students the components of Classical tragedy (for an assignment my student Pandu wrote a brief drama entitled "Kung Fu Pandu"), I napped, packed, and jumped to my friend Amelia's house to board an overnight bus to Yogyakarta, cultural capital of Java.



After a cramped 11-hour bus ride we arrived at Prambanan, a 9th-century Hindu temple complex just outside of Yogya. Since we got there at 7 am, there weren't many tourists, just a few locals and kids. Of course we had arranged a guided tour but my archaeologist's pride was diverting my attention so I struck off on my own about 5 seconds after our guide stomped on the stone stairs to demonstrate the site's "ancient sounds." Each of the over 200 temples of Prambanan were originally adorned with niches framing a panoply of Hindu mythological imagery, running the full gamut from sacred to profane (but mostly focusing on these two). At the perimeter of the site core there are also smaller groups of Buddhist temples featuring mostly headless seated Siddharthas and some gnarly armed guards. Overall I was quite impressed with Prambanan, and especially by the reconstruction efforts that have resulted in what I saw. Like parts of the Maya area, Central Java is a region plagued by earthquakes and volcanism; the site was discovered in (and in large part remains in) ruins.



Borobudur. This is one of the main reasons I decided to come to Indonesia, and one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. Borobudur is the largest Buddhist monument in the world, one gigantic stupa composed of nine platforms supporting an original count of 504 statues of the bodhi man (my jade Maitreya makes 505). Just a massive stone cosmogram. EVERY PANEL on EVERY SIDE of EVERY LEVEL of Borobudur is decorated with relief carving, depicting mytho/historical scenes from the life of the Buddha and a wide range of gods, demons, sinners, saints, and of course holy critters. Borobudur dramatically affected Ad Reinhardt's conception of human art-making, and though I've been preoccupied with the deep connection between images, religion, and stone for a while now, I was similarly overwhelmed. After circumambulating each level several times and pressing my hand to the Buddha's in one of the stupas on the top level for luck, I slowed down and sat stunned for a while. Just me and this guy, staring at space, letting a million thoughts and memories sift through my head and not letting myself attach to any of them.

I'm getting a little esoteric. It was not just me and him. It was we two and about a million more tourists, mostly domestic, mostly loud. I felt like part of the attraction as I got asked to pose for photos at least a dozen times by virtue of the exoticism of my skin and height. Or maybe they thought I was Nicholas Cage (one Indonesian woman said I looked like him, kind of a longshot IMO). Still, Borobudur is possibly the most amazing piece of art I've seen, and though there isn't much legitimate data on why it was made or how it was used, it nevertheless remains an ancient and timeless testament to the centrality of art in human culture. Truly a man-made mountain among mountains.



After an hour's drive back to Yogya, we checked into our hotel, exhausted. After a power nap and some vacillation I decided to join my group in heading back to Prambanan for a light dinner and some opera. That is, traditional Indonesian opera, a balletic performance of the Vedic epic the Ramayana, accompanied a gamelan orchestra. I'd heard of but never heard gamelan, it is beautiful, basically 15 people playing differently pitched bells and one lead percussionist on several variously sized drums. A lot of minor chords, minimal but powerful. And you can't beat the setting (above, yes those are the Prambanan temples).








Sunday was a half day in Yogya itself. Historically, Yogyakarta has been a bastion of Javanese culture, maintaining its traditional hereditary sultanate even in the midst of Dutch occupation and revolution, and today you can visit the sultan's palace, which we did. But what caught my eye was the graffiti, which Yogya is equally noted for, as it is the center of Java's contemporary art scene (see the gallery above, click any pic for a larger view). While my fellow volunteers were busy batik bargaining, I spent a good three hours hoofing it miles downtown, taking in the varied styles and sophisticated design of Yogya's street art and only stopping to rest my feet for a while with some gods at a small Buddhist temple I passed along the way.



That wraps Sunday up. I could write more, but I've already spent most of today uploading 150 photos (of the over 700 I took over the weekend) and formatting this post, and it's almost dark. Next time I'll talk about marriage and birth. Until then, let the sun hit ya, I'll hit you back soon.


Josh

Loading mentions Retweet
Filed under  //   Borobudur   buddha   graffiti   Indonesia   Prambanan   Yogyakarta  

Comments [0]

"This person, these people, I can not know where they have been"

I think it's been a month since my last post. You all have had at least one daylight savings shift, not me. I spent a few days in the town of Dali recently and it feels like the clock is melting.

I've been in northwestern Yunnan for two weeks. It's a very old place. In fact I've been in at least four "old towns" which here means architectonically traditional places designed to sell tourist hordes virtually identical symbols of polyglot culture. I truly mean polyglot as I've heard and seen a slew of languages used in the region, both living and dead. Yesterday I witnessed a ritual performed by Dongba priests, Naxi minority shamans with an ancient tradition stretching from time immemorial to the precise date of Communist presence in the region. At this time Dongba was officially decreed a superstition and all but eradicated to the ideologically immune Naxi villages of the extreme rural hillside. Dongba religion was reconstituted as "culture" and moved from the realm of elite masculine pedagogy to the realm of still masculine urban intellectual tradition with the foundation of the Dongba Culture Research Institute at the end of the Cultural Revolution. The performance I witnessed was by an ancient man with a picture-perfect white wisp beard who blew into hollowed cow horns and danced around sculptures that looked to be made out of some sort of pastry with a large blade in his mouth. Our lecturer, a polite apologist from the Institute, informed us that since he is old he may have "forgotten" some of the traditional ways. In fact our Dongba was a forgery, one of the many similarly dressed and bearded men who pose for photographs with tourists in front of clothing shops in Old Town Lijiang (a UNESCO World Heritage Site and tourism megahaven). Still Dongba is fascinating to me, and the Naxi Dongbas have the only living pictogrpahic script in this whole panorama of human experience. The script was traditionally only read and written by the shamans (often the only literate members of Naxi society) but is now the province of scholarly research not only at the Institute but also at Harvard and European universities. I'm not in a position to question authenticity as I'm not sure if I believe in the authenticity of the very ideological construct of "authenticity". I've taken all of my experiences in Old Town Yunnan with a large grain of salt. Often this grain of salt comes with crystallized ginger and a healthy dose of "numbing pepper", a local herbal favorite which as the name may suggest has lead to a number of half-tasted meals.

I've met three "living buddhas" in the past 5 days. Living Buddha (Ch.= "huo fo") is a bad translation (from Tibetan to Chinese) as none of them believe themselves to be actual buddhas. Maybe bodhisattvas. In practice reincarnated Lamas chosen from the tender age of five years old to enter monastery in Lhasa and embark on the 28-year process of attaining a Tibetan Buddhist "PhD" (bad translation, from Chinese to Latin abbreviation). The most famous Living Buddha is of course the Dalai Lama, believed by Yellow Hat Vajrayanists to be a walking avatar of the peoples' favorite bodhisattva, Guanyin (Skrt.=Avalokitesvara , Japanese=Kanon, Tibetan=Chenresig). I've met less famous provincial LB's, who were keen to instruct us on the metaphysical ramifications of electricity and the finer details of how to achieve and be liberated from future incarnations as a plant. Two of the Buddhas were monks living in Tibetan Buddhist monasteries in the towns of Zhongdian (name now officially changed to "Shangri-La" by the Ch. government, no doubt another tourist ploy) and Lijiang. The third was the mother of a friend I've made at Minzu Daxue in Kunming. She was chosen as a Living Buddha at the age of 5 and entered the monastery, only to have her monastic life revoked during the Cultural Revolution. Now she works as government official and gracefully sipped at her glass of beer over dinner. Practicing Lama or not, she did exude a kind of spiritual knowingness I could never emulate and I felt true warmth from her as she embraced me before taking me out to dinner last night. All this hospitality from someone who merely knew I knew her son.

Hospitality. I must have gained at least five pounds in the last month. My Kunming host mother was an excellent cook and felt personally slighted if I didn't eat three persons' worth at every meal. She is an English teacher so while our conversations didn't do much to improve my Mandarin, she was eager to learn (as was I) of the cultural differences between Chinese and Americans. Our conversations often revolved around food. She was shocked to learn that Americans love bread so much that we even eat lunches that consist of nothing but bread with things placed in between. She seemed particularly repulsed by the idea of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and chided me when I attempted to drink coffee with my morning noodles since "sweet and salty do not mix well in the stomach." I had a short 3-day homestay in the rural Bai minority village of Sideng. My homestay mother there spoke no English and really not much Chinese either. She graciously accepted that I was vegetarian when I declined to eat a piece of the unidentifiable slab of "salt meat" (bad translation, Bai to Chinese to English) that was hanging on the kitchen wall for the duration of my homestay. She proceeded to feed me a succession of noodle bowls that only ceased when I had to grab my bags and catch the bus to Zhongdian. The food is predominately starch, carbohydrate, and grease, but the people are healthy. In Sideng I experienced why when I assisted my homestay family in the harvest. After a few hours of baling and hauling rice my body was aching, my arms cut and sore, my excess caloric intake sufficiently burnt away.

Sideng is an interesting place. It boasts an old Market Square that was a lively center of cultural and commerical exchange during the heyday of the Tea and Horse Caravan that connected China to India and the West via Tibet in ancient times. Sideng is downhill from Shibaoshan, an ancient Buddhist mountain with numerous temples and grottoes. These grottoes contain spectacular sculptures (carved into the mountain itself) of ancient regional kings, Buddhist deities carved in the style of Indian art, and an enigmatic vagina statue whose significance scholars and locals have conflicting ideas about. The grottoes encapsulate in a visually comprehensible form the syncretic and shifting construct that is Chinese antiquity, where kings turn to gods, gods turn to beasts, and raw stone is transformed (either by humans or Mother Nature's own entropic agency) into a symbol of sexual fecundity.

Now I'm writing from Lijiang, about to take a fantastically inauthentic "Western" meal and spend the evening visiting many of the not-so-cultural attractions of the old town's "Bar Street" (good translation). I don't know what my tone is in writing this, probably a mixture of disenchantment, enchantment, philosophical confusion, linguistic profusion, visual oversaturation, core intercultural appreciation. Please know that I've loved every second of this trip and as I work to sort through this bewildering morasse in my mind I will express my emerging thoughts more articulately and cogently at some unspecified future date. I return to Kunming tomorrow, where I'll begin researching cultural heritage preservation efforts in Sideng and Shibaoshan and have a quick week to decompress. Time to reorganize my life and if and when I do I will keep you POSTED.


Toasted,
Josh

Loading mentions Retweet
Filed under  //   buddha   China   Dali   Kunming   Lijiang   linguistic confusion   Shaxi   Zhongdian  

Comments [0]

Never sleep

Major update planned right now, let's see how far I can get.

Wednesday before last after class I met a BU student named Chris Rosenkrans with whom I've been emailing and who also happens to be studying in and around Kunming for the semester. He's a fellow undergraduate but he is currently undertaking a 5-year BA/MA thesis project that has had him researching in East Asia, C. and South America, Africa, and the Middle East; I'm envious of the clarity of vision that has allowed him to form such an ambitious project at this early age and I hope to take a page out of his book in the future. I met him at the anthropology museum of Yunnan University (the megalithic structure across the street from my more unassuming institution, Yunnan National Minorities University, aka MingDa), where he and a grad. student at Yunnan U (YunDa) were in turn meeting with a Professor Chen of the visual anthropology department. Chris interviewed Chen Laoshi about the Chinese Hui minority of Muslim traders as this is the topic of his research here. I also spoke with the Professor, asking him more general questions about the anthropological field work conducted by YunDa. I was intrigued by pictures of various ethnic minorities on the walls surrounding his office, particularly by images of the Wa minority, a transnational Burmese/Chinese group who in the past have been infamous for head-hunting, drug smuggling, and performing elaborate dance rituals involving gigantic drums made of hollowed-out tree trunks. My personal research interest at the moment is SW China's drum culture, including the ancient bronze drums (oldest in China) of the Dian culture that inhabited Kunming and surrounding area at the turn of the first millenium AD as well as the contemporary cultural significance attached to drums by the Wa, Dai, and Jinuo ethnic minority groups. This topic will likely comprise the independent study project I'll undertake in November. The Wa are rumored to have the world's largest drum in a village in Southwestern Yunnan, so I'm already planning a pilgrimage there. But more on this (way) later.

Chen Laoshi told me of a weekly film screening at YunDa on Wednesday nights, so that evening at 7:30 I went with some of my American classmates to check it out. We saw two short films made by Yunnan Arts University students. The first was a very "modern" stop-motion clay animation short dealing with the pressures that academic institutions place on young people; the youth were represented by amorphous clay androgynes who, fed up with school, run away to the city and encounter a Buddhist-looking statue bearing two kinds of fruit (a moment of comic relief came when the first intrepid sexless being ate both types of fruit, grew female and male genitalia simultaneously, then bid goodbye to his/her friends, following a sign pointing the way to Thailand; the four remaining clay blobs became one or the other sex and thus a suitable harmony was achieved). The second film was an amateur but charming and very touching documentary about a vivacious grandmother. I didn't understand much of the dialogue (in the films or subsequent short talks given by the filmmakers) but I enjoyed watching, and was grateful for my first real taste of a contemporary artistic community in Kunming.

On Thursday (9/27) morning we visited a drug clinic located in the Western Hills about 45 minutes outside of Kunming. This trip was of great interest to me as I've had several friends in similar institutions at home and one who recently died of an overdose. Overall the facility and treatment methods didn't seem too different from those in the U.S. People charged with drug possession and abuse in China must serve a mandatory interrment in the center, and many choose afterwards to live on-site, where they work and learn professional skills. The most interesting aspect of the clinic was that it incorporates a scientific research laboratory where alternatives to heavy narcotics are developed. Several years ago the lab came out with a pill they call the "June 26th Capsule"--the formula consists entirely of specially treated Chinese Traditional Medicinal (TCM) herbs. The capsule is non-addictive and has proven so effective in combatting remission cravings that the clinic has ceased to use Methadone or any other dependence-forming substances in their treatment. The doctor who gave us our lecture said that the June 26th Capsule is now being used in many drug rehabilitation centers nation-wide. I wonder how much of this is scientific fact and how much is propaganda; I'm very intrigued by the prospect, however, of an herbal treatment for hard-drug addiction, and would be curious to track its success in China over the next few years. Such a solution would be a huge breakthrough in the States, where heroin addiction often merely gives way to an equally nefarious dependence on Methadone and painkillers...

On Sunday (9/30) my new friend Marianna and I took a plane to Jinghong, the primary (basically the only) urban center in the southern Yunnan prefecture of Xishuangbanna. We had a week off, as did the majority of the nation, to celebrate the anniversary of the founding of the People's Republic of China by Mao Zedong on Oct. 1, 1949. We didn't do much celebrating: on the 1st we found ourselves in a dusty village called Mandian, where we stayed in a local Dai minority guesthouse and trekked through the jungle to an unpolluted and thankfully uninhabited waterfall. Banna is densely tropical, a completely different ecological and cultural environment from the more cosmopolitan Kunming. We experienced the immense ecological diversity in Mandian and at Sanchahe Nature Reserve, a nationally protected park famous for housing about 150 wild elephants. We didn't see any of these, but we did "experience" the tropics here, hiked around the bush bordering a small tributary of the Mekong river, picked small leeches off ourselves (no socks, bad idea) and declined to have ourselves photographed with muzzled bears and lizards. In busing around the region throughout the week I noted that most of the environment has been transformed by China's recent economic boom: in most places the giant, broad-leafed arborescent flora has been displaced by the far more profitable rubber tree, now a major force in the Banna economy. We also visited a tea plantation in a small village called Nanluoshan, about 20 km west of Jinghong. Yunnan is the only region in the world that produces Pu'er, an earthy black tea that is very popular (and given its rarity, expensive) in China.

For me, the highlight of the trip was an excursion we made to the town of Damenglong. To get there we rode a bus on an extremely worn-out, decrepit dirt road 4 hours south. Damenglong is only a few kilometers away from the Burmese border so that added an extra dimension to the already ethnically diverse character of Southwestern Chinese village culture. In Damenglong and the neighboring hamlet of Man Fei Long (a 2km hike away) we visited several Buddhist pagodas, complete with statues of the reclining Sakyamuni and overlarge footprints left from a mythohistorical visit the Buddha himself made to Xishuangbanna somewhere around 500 B.C. It was interesting to note the differences in Buddhist practice here: in Banna, Dai and Bulang peoples practice Theravada Buddhism, a form of the faith that predates the Mahayana school that predominates in China. Indeed, Damenglong had the cultural feel of Southeast asia: almost every sign in the town was in Dai characters, closely related to the Thai language, and some of the people we encountered didn't even speak Mandarin Chinese (virtually no one spoke English). I valued this short visit not only because it allowed me to grasp party of Yunnan's diversity, but also because I came at a time when Damenglong and the surrounding region are in transition. The atrocious road in and out of town is currently being converted into a modern superhighway that will connect China, Burma, and Thailand, an infrastructural development that will undoubtedly precipitate irrevocable socioeconomic changes in the town and the region as a whole. I wouldn't be surprised if the next time I'm in Damenglong I encounter, rather than a refreshing void of English-speakers, a battery of backpackers freshly arrived from Bangkok, taking a brief respite before seeking the greener pastures of Northwestern Yunnan.

Marianna and I arrived back in Kunming at around 1:00 am on Monday (10/9) morning, and as we were U-locked out of our dorm until 6, we killed the early morning hours at a (speaking of irrevocable socioeconomic changes) 24-hour McDonald's. Caught a few hours of shuteye then jumped back into the day, writing my paper on Banna (dwelling mostly on my disenchantment at the ecological degradation wrought by economic expansion and the gross commoditization of "ethnic" culture I witnessed at Sanchahe and a Sunday morning market in the town of Menghun) and packing in preparation for leaving the dorm. Yesterday afternoon I met Mrs. Shen, an English teacher at Kunming College of Science and Engineering and the homestay mother with whom I'll be living and sharing all my meals for the next two weeks. I grabbed my bags, the small Han drum I picked up on a semi-drunken mission to a local music store, and my SIT-loaned bicycle and headed for my new home, already slightly nostalgic for the freedom of MingDa dorm life.

On to the next chapter: badminton with my new Chinese little bro, increased isolation from the comforting retinue of American English-speakers I've enjoyed thus far, a tighter curfew, and the anticipated charms and pitfalls of receiving hospitality CHINESE STYLE.


Zaijian (later),
Jsh

Loading mentions Retweet
Filed under  //   anthropology   buddha   China   Damenglong   Jinghong   Kunming   Xishuangbanna   Yunnan University  

Comments [0]

"And I ate It Cause I'm so at It"

One day last year at Brighton Center's notorious Dragon Chef I received a fortune that read "Write the events of your life in a journal." I've never kept a regular journal in my life and I didn't take this to heart at the time but for some reason I've been compelled to write daily while I've been in China. It feels like a good thing to do and I think in retrospect I was just being lazy. Paradoxically, the daily dose of writing I get has made me less disposed to additionally sweat out a blog post in one of these packed, tea soaked internet cafes. But here I am and I'm just going to pop off some recent events and impressions kicking around my mind. (Also I apologize for any repetition as I can't read my previous posts, China has banned blog READING but evidently not blog writing.)

The day after I flew into Kunming we took a 2-day field trip to the smaller southern city of Tonghai. On our first full day there we visited a small village where old women with traditional bound feet performed a dance for us. I've seen pictures and read about foot-binding but to see these women in person--and to see them move so gracefully--was an intriguing and slightly repuslive experience. To think that these women endured such pain for the pleasure of their future husbands made me wonder if it hurt them still to dance in old age. But they seemed happy and represent the last vestiges of a culture where having 3-inch "golden lotus blossoms" (the traditional euphemism for expressing ideal foot size) is still a matter of great pride.

It was also in Tonghai that I climbed my first temple-filled mountain (see above). China is packed full of these. Being an fan of mountains, Buddhism, and exercise I'm very into these excursions. I went to a site in Kunming called "Golden Temple Scenic Spot" that was heavily touristed and so less appealing, but most of the temples are sparsely populated, serene, and mist-shrouded like exoticized accounts would lead you to believe. I've never been a practicing Buddhist so I wouldn't say I've been properly meditating but certainly walking around in such places has put me into a meditative state. Also the healthy amount of walking and fresh air (Yunnan is extremely underpolluted as China goes) I've been getting has facilitated a lot of introspection that spills over into writing and of course meandering blog posts.

Anyway another random highlight: we had dinner with some state officials in Tonghai and they encouraged (rather, enforced) us to drink with them, handing us shots of baijiu (rice liquor) and yelling "Gan bei!" which literally means "empty the glass" but in practice means "We're going to keep this up til you pass out." After a few gan beis I steeled myself up sufficiently to eat one of the sauteed wasps that had been passed around on a barely touched plate all night. Of course I'm vegan and wasp doesn't exactly meet the criteria for what I usually choose to eat but in the heat of the moment I decided that since I've been stung by one wasp I can eat one wasp. Kind of a selfish rule but now I think if I come across any fried scorpions four of them will go too. Otherwise I've found it very easy to avoid meat, dairy, and eggs. I've learned how to say "I don't eat meat, I eat vegetables" in Mandarin but I've yet to finesse "does this suspicious broth by chance come from mutton"? The food is great and very inexpensive (as are the 23 cent fake Nike socks with reverse swoops I'm wearing as I write this, incidentally), lots of fresh vegetables, leafy greens, tofu and bean-paste cakes. I haven't yet entered my homestay so I've been moderate my own food intake; I may need to stretch my stomach in preparation for the stubborn hospitality I've been told to expect.

The other day we received a lecture from Mr. Huang Cheng, an 88-year-old man from Kunming. This actually isn't the first lecture we've received from an octagenarian and like the venerable Professor Guo who lectured on Taiji, Mr. Cheng's English was perfect and his anecdotes confusing. He was to give us an oral history of his life, an interesting one as he was born the son of a powerful general and came of age at the beginning of the Mao era. He served as a translator for G.I.s in Japan during WWII and so valued the opportunity to "practice my English with young Americans once again." He was a jovial and humorous man, and he spent most of his lecture telling us stories that seemed only tangentially related to his own life. It was only after some direct questioning that we found out he was imprisoned for 19 years during the cultural revolution. This was because of his American affiliations and because he suggested openly that China should "pay more attention to technology." Some of our questions about his time in prison didn't translate well. He answered us by saying that we're too young to understand the desparation of China at this time. Perhaps this is true; I'm not in a position to question a man who was in prison for nearly as long as I've been alive on this point. But Mr. Cheng's talk reinforced the impression I've been getting of the incredible resilience of the Chinese spirit. I'm almost desensitized to the atrocities committed during the last 50 years in this country after reading and hearing about them so much but still the people seem indomitable, industrious, and content. How much of this is an inherent cultural characteristic and how much is the result of a seasoned state propaganda machine I have yet to discern. (Not likely to any time soon.)

That was all over the place, I'll try to make my next post more organized and interesting. I don't have the patience to put pictures here but I've managed to upload some onto my Flickr account, username is End Times. Hope you're all well and enjoying the Fall... I've been good about responding to email so don't hesitate to write if you have a minute.


-Josh

Loading mentions Retweet
Filed under  //   buddha   China   Kunming   Lil' Wayne   Tonghai   weird food  

Comments [0]