Mt Emei, Sichuan province - part 5 of 5 by BASIL

CHAPTER FIVE: EVERYBODY WAIT YOUR TURN TO WALK, PLEASE…

When we wake up the next morning, we start hiking after a quick breakfast. Actually, it’s more like waiting than walking. There’s so many people trying to get to see the Summit that the trail’s so packed we literally have to wait in line. It’s awful and boring.
And the worst part is, it changes the experience completely.
Before, we were hiking up a beautiful mountain.

Now, I feel like I’m part of a tourist attraction. It’s basically just sort of trudging along in an army.

A weak army.  An army of tourists. 













When we reach the top in about an hour, Mom takes some pictures of me and Kayl next to the Golden Buddha, and we ate a Dove chocolate to celebrate.
I just thought about everything we had done.
We conquered Mount Emei on our own two feet, while so many others fell behind us, took the midway bus down, or simply gave up and walked back down.
But we continued.
While so many people took the chairlift and bus up, we walked the whole way.
And that is why we experienced so much more than these people.
Because we were the ones seeing the monkeys, we were the ones going into a cave in the side of the mountain. We were the ones that got to see everything that we did while everyone else missed out.

Because this hike’s not about the Golden Buddha.

It’s about being attacked by monkeys, arguing, getting hurt, being woken up by gongs at 5:00 am.

But if you make it through that hardship, this is what you get.

The experience of a lifetime.

Mount Emei

Mt. Emei, Sichuan province - Part 4 of 5 by BASIL

CHAPTER 4: THE PLACE WHERE THE BODIHISSATIVA PUCKION WASHED AN ELEPHANT’S FACE... OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT

After the twenty minute walk back to the surface of the earth and another twenty minute walk back to the monastery, we continue on. After a little while, we go up a few stairs and break.


There’s a Chinese family sitting next to us, and they open their backpack and start pulling out snacks and handing them to us.  They hand us so many snacks I start wondering if they’re poisoned or something, it’s just so out of the ordinary. but then, Dad pulls out a precious Snickers bar and hands it to them.




I feel like I’m part of the Ice Age movie where the elephant, Manny, is trying to find food for the baby and they steal a watermelon from the Dodo birds, who revere melons. Basically what happens in the movie is the scene freezes, then you see one of the Dodo birds in slo-mo, yelling with some blown-out speaker effect, “the last melon…”.  That’s what I feel when Dad hands them the Snickers.  I’m so upset for some reason.  Looking back, it was totally ridiculous, but I’m just so mad about that Snickers.  They sell them everywhere, but I felt like we hadn’t even wanted their stuff and so why should they want ours? 

We continue on, me kind of mad at Dad. Dad starts telling us this reallyyyyyyy long story about how the Bodhissattva Puxian stopped there to bathe his elephant, whom he rode through the sky on, and his elephant drank from the water, purifying it blah blah blah. Soon we reach a little place where a whole bunch of food places are kind of making a little aisle that you walk through, and at the end it looks like it stops because of all the trees in the way. There’s people crowding everywhere, so unfortunately we couldn’t see the trailhead. Dad’s uncertainly like, “Well... if we were going the wrong way, these people would tell us like they did last time. Right?” We all uncertainly agree. We walk for about half an hour, and then come to a monastery. It’s only like two or three in the afternoon, and so we think it’s a little weird that we’re at the Elephant Bathing Pool already. 

After the monastery, the trail goes down. We seem to be at some sort of peak. There are four peaks, the Golden Summit being the tallest, but the Bathing Pool is not one of them. Also, another weird part is how Zuantian Slope is before the Elephant Bathing Pool, and we haven’t seen any monkeys. Just then, a bunch of english-speaking people come up the trail. See, there are two ways up the mountain, but both end up here before the golden summit. We think that these people are just getting back from the summit, but in actuality they’re just ascending the mountain a different way. We, apparently, should have gone through the aisle of restaurants. Instead, we learn that we’ve been going the wrong way for thirty minutes now. We turn around, disappointed at having our dreams of reaching the summit today crushed. Now, we’re barely going to make it to the Elephant Bathing Pool. we start back down. It’s actually much faster going down, and we’re back at the place that we started off course in only ten minutes. 

We eat quickly, then go through the “aisle” and actually turn behind the shops and go down. We walk and talk for a few hours, and then reach the real Bathing Pool at about 5:00. 




I’m wiped and feel like we should stay here, but Dad thinks that we should push on to Lidongping bus station and find a monastery there.  After some reluctance, I agree on the condition that I get a whole Snickers to myself after we reach Lidongping. We walk, and then encounter some monkeys. Mom needs to use the bathroom, and goes into the brush. Me and Dad and Kayl wait for a minute, but then Mom speaks in this petrified yet calm voice. “Ryan (that’s my Dad’s name),” She says, “I think there’s a monkey right next to me.” Kayl and me kind of look at each other, unsure of whether to start laughing hysterically or get really scared. We hear a big snort, then a whinny. “And,” Mom says, “a horse.” This time I can’t stop myself, I start cracking up. The way she’s saying it is just too funny. 

She eventually comes out and shakily starts down the trail. We see a monkey just sitting on the path, but it doesn’t frighten me any more. It just looks at us as we pass and then jumps off the trail into the brush. We walk on, and then come to a bridge. We look over the side, and I, once again, am at a loss for how to describe it.

We’re so high up, and you can see through the two pieces of rock another peak in the distance, silhouetted against the sun, which has turned a bright shade of orange and is surrounded by clouds, but apart from the ring around the sun it’s a cloudless sky.
It’s just so amazing I can’t speak for a minute.

I learn twenty minutes later to hold onto these moments while you can.
We continue, and when we reach Lidongping this is what I see: there’s buses all over, hotels and people trying to get you to stay in their hotel, bus and car fumes filling the air, and tons of people in cars causing a traffic jam.  I suddenly feel sick to my stomach.
All I want to do is just leave.

We see, in the distance, a monastery, and all agree that we have to go there and get out of this place. But when we start walking, this is what I see. There’s a monkey up in a tree, and a person below holding a slingshot and shooting rocks at the monkey, who’s just innocently sitting in the tree. I’m seized by a sudden rage and don’t even know why, but suddenly I’m throwing all the swear words and cruel things I know at this person. He looks over at me, not understanding my words but getting the tone. Dad pulls me away, but looks more in agreement with me than angry. “I should knock him out with his own stupid slingshot,” I mutter. “That monkey’s totally innocent.” We continue, feeling so upset.
What a reverse this is from the magical feeling not more than twenty minutes ago! So much is happening, and I can’t make any sense of it most of the time.
We see monkeys sitting on a railing and having people yell at them and throw food at them and we walk by silently.

We reach a place to stay, and it sort of looks like some sort of a temple. There’s a completely unhelpful and rude guy who we try to book our rooms with, and the price he offers us for a room with four beds is 360 RMB. The last place was 200, so we think that it’s an unfair price. Four Chinese people walk by and we ask them if there’s another place to stay nearby. They say that they’re staying in a four-bed hotel room with a shower (we haven’t showered in days) and a heater for 400 RMB. We go in and a lady shows us a room. It’s warm, has a shower, and three beds. Then she holds up a calculator with the price on it for Mom and Dad. “Oh my god,” is all Mom says, and then she starts walking away. I catch a glimpse of the calculator as I walk by and my heart starts pounding fast. “What is it?” Kayl asks. “Why aren’t we staying here?” “900 RMB,” I say, but Kayl gets it. The lady runs outside after us and offers 400 RMB for a four person room. She leads us down a bunch of steps and we joke that we’re staying in the dungeon. She opens a door that I think is a closet, but she points to it. There’s one queen sized bed just filling up the room, with no space to even get up. We just leave without a word, hoping that the 360 RMB room isn’t taken yet. Luckily, it’s not. There’s only three beds, not four, and the door doesn’t lock, but I accept that it’s all we’re going to get. there’s actually even heated mattresses, so it’s not all bad. We go eat, but I’m not hungry. After, Dad suggests this thing called foot bathing. We get basins filled with hot water and soak our feet. It’s so relaxing that we could just keep refilling the basins with hot water and doing it all night, but we eventually go to bed. 

Mt. Emei, Sichuan province - Part 3 of 5 by BASIL

CHAPTER 3: THE MOST OFFBEAT MUSIC IN THE WORLD

I wake up with my ears resounding. I can hear, inside the monastery, somebody hitting an enormous gong as hard as they can. The worst part for me is that it’s totally offbeat. The gong keeps sounding, over and over, and all I hear is GONGGONGGONGGONGGONGGGGGGGGGONG. It’s awful! And the worst part is, we then learn that it’s not even 5:00 in the morning! Then, after ten minutes of rapid GONGing, it stops. I breathe a sigh of relief, but then guess what I hear.
Yeah, you guessed it
GONG.
I wait a few seconds, and then
GONG.
It just keeps going, like every seven seconds (which is totally offbeat). Then, it stops. I wait for several minutes, and then somebody starts hitting a really loud cymbal on a one-count. Also, every monk in the monastery is singing random Chinese things, like Ga Do Sa Ray Ra So A Do Mo Say.
I take a vow right then to never be annoyed again by the gong.
We get up (after all, the alternative is sitting in bed listening to the creepy chant), and go down to the Hard Wok Cafe for pancakes. If you ever climb Mount Emei, I recommend pushing yourself the first day just so you can eat at Hard Wok Cafe. You’ll live through the gongs.
Maybe.

Afterwards, we continue on, our goal being to get to the Elephant Bathing Pool. Mom pulls out a map to show Kayl how far we have to walk.

Then, Kayl makes a horrifying discovery.
On the map, there was the place filled with the worst creatures on earth, labeled the joking monkey zone (yeah, right), and there was a monkey face to show that there were monkeys there. What Kayl sees is that on Zuantian Slope, a slope that we’re ascending today, has a monkey face on it. We are all immediately scared of Zuantian Slope.
To reassure us, however, we meet english-speakers on the trail who tell us that the monkeys on the slope are actually even WORSE than the ones we’ve encountered. We all freak out and start realizing that since there’s no bus until Lidongping, and so we’re stuck between two armies of the worst creatures on earth.
We start walking with despair in our hearts.
After like half an hour, we start seeing garbage scattered all over. We wonder what could’ve done this. After all, the monkeys aren’t due to appear for over five more hours! We pass a guy picking up garbage. We point up the trail, then at the garbage, then say “Ho zu (monkey)?” He nods grimly. [Cue for dramatic, despairing music.]
Okay, maybe I’m starting to exaggerate a tiny bit.
But it’s really freaky.
We walk down a ridge, and then back up the other side. As we start ascending the other side, Mom’s shrill, terrified voice calls out.
“Monkeys!”
I’m seized by a sudden urge to turn and run back up the other side, but the monkeys are already starting to pour over the ridge.
I used to watch this Chinese movie called Mulan when I was little, and there was this one part where the tiny Chinese army of lame soldiers watched the colossal army of huns come sprinting over the ridge, and Mulan and the troops are in a gorge.
That’s sort of the feeling I’m getting now.
Before, I thought that the most monkeys I would ever see in one place would be ten or eleven.
And that was all I wanted to see, right?
There’s at least thirty monkeys, just sitting there, watching us.
We slowly, shakily, start whacking our sticks and moving forward.
The monkeys just watch us.
I keep my eyes down as to avoid eye contact, but a flicker of movement catches my eye and I look up.
The baby monkey is edging forward to grab Kayl’s staff.
I know that if the monkey gets a hold of it, then Kayl will jerk it away, and the Mama monkey, feeling that her baby is threatened, will attack.
I pray that the baby monkey will stop moving. Then, suddenly, he leaps forward and grabs onto Kayl’s staff.
Time seems to stop.
Okay, okay, rewind. I’m being too dramatic again. Sorry. Let’s go back a little...
I pray that the baby monkey will stop moving. Then, suddenly, he leaps forward and grabs onto Kayl’s staff.
Mom lets out a little muffled scream, but Kayl cautiously edges away. The Mama sort of just eyes him, but then decides that eating garbage is more important that protecting her

baby, and we pass safely. 

On the other side, we do a Humke handshake (which is where we make a circle and put our hands in the middle and then throw our hands in the air), but the thing is, I don’t feel the sense of terror I felt with the other monkeys. Dad explains that it’s probably because the other monkeys were annoyed because so many people violated their privacy every day, yet these monkeys weren’t as used to it so they were happier and less likely to have a grudge against humans and attack. They just sort of see us as other creatures passing through.

We keep walking for a little while, and then come to the bottom of a valley. There’s a waterfall, and Dad stops to take pictures. 

We get some food at the restaurant, and these random people come up and offer me a duck leg or something. I politely refuse, but Kayl takes one. Chinese people are always giving us random things we don’t want, like we’re their kings or something. A few people point ahead and say “Ho zu,” freaking Kayl out. I’m kind of getting annoyed because the monkeys aren’t that bad at this part of the trail and Kayl is making them sound evil. Okay, I know I’m being hypocritical, but I’m just writing my feelings from back then, not now. Up ahead, we see a few of the stairs just like totally destroyed and falling into the abyss. Dad and Kayl are making a big deal about how I have to stay super far away. When I slip a little, Kayl starts screaming at Dad about how he has to stay behind me so I don’t fall. The gesture is kind of nice, but ever since I fell off the path at the beginning, Kayl’s been super overprotective, which is somehow annoying because he’s three years younger.
A little while later, we get to another monastery. We break a little, and then the next thing I know Mom and Dad are paying some lady and then we’re walking down a path. 

I ask them if we’re on the trail going to the Golden Summit, and they say that no, we’ve gone on a little detour. No no no. No detours. But they’re just totally adamant. I just kind of go along with it, annoyed. We come to this tiny little building with a tiny altar and tiny incense sticks inside. There’s some music playing, and that’s it. Now I’m mad. “We detoured for this?” I yell. Mom and Dad aren’t really answering. I just am like, ‘yeah, whatever. This is so lame.’ I stand on the railing, and Dad starts yelling at me. Mom yanks me down, and I climb back up for some reason. Now Mom’s really mad because I disobeyed her. I didn’t even really register what I said. Mom takes away some privilege and they start walking away. I’m mad, so I stay behind to cool down. 

Eventually I start walking after them. They’re on some separate path winding down and down. I’m really mad now. They’re just extending the detour! I catch up and start talking to Dad. He says that we’re going to Jiulao Cave (cave of the immortal beings).




I ask how far away it is, and he says maybe twenty minutes. I start yelling about how we’re never going to make it to the elephant bathing pool if we keep detouring. Eventually I just stop talking and walk. We get to this building that’s locked, and two big rocks. We walk in between the two big rocks, and then the other side (which we reach in less than ten seconds) is covered with trash. Now I’m mad that we came this far for nothing, and I start talking sarcastically. “Oh, wonderful! This is so fun! Hahaha! I could just walk in between this two rocks for days on end without getting bored. It’s too awesome to describe! I’m so glad we came here! What a GREAT way to waste our time!” Nobody’s really listening, and when I finish, they’re all gone. “Hello?” I call out uncertainly. I look around and see it.
There’s a big gap that leads into some sort of cave. I walk in and see a staircase. There’s dim lamps everywhere. Mom and Dad are far ahead. I walk for like five minutes, and the stairs keep on going down. I notice some... well... signs that there are probably

bats down here. I uncertainly continue, hoping a bat doesn’t bite me. “Come on, guys! These stairs probably wind inside the mountain all the way to the bottom! We need to go! Now!” Then it hits me.
We’re inside a mountain.
I don’t even really realize it until I say it. I breathed, and in the lamplight I could see my breath. I call out again, but find Mom and Dad in a cavern with a giant Buddha statue. 

“This must be where the monks came to pray,” Dad says. “Wow” Is all I can say. We try to take pictures, it’s just too dark. I can’t even really put the feeling I have into words. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt yet on this trip.
I think it’s wonder.

reflections from Xiandai Dadao

...this wordworm is dedicated to my good friend Doug Milam. he is amused by this world and fascinated with its messages, clues, and inky witprints.  he inspires me to see this world in different wavelengths, write about it, and change myself in the process.  he's nothing short of a brilliant sand castle carver with miles of beach, buckets of laughter, and eons of sunshine...

Sitting on my bicycle pulled over out of harm's way - respect the speedy scooter or careless ebike.

i shed my down vest and shell to acknowledge how distant the near frozen morning has become.

the sun warms everything not blocked by the twenty-six story apartment buildings, making the shade feel like the afternoon has slipped away.

my front tire rests at an angle on the curb making its own shadows on the sidewalk.

my wool sweater and jeans retaining the warmth recently earned.

i reach for a vacuum bottle of coffee out of greed for the next level; beyond perfection - a fool's motion.

…and yet to trade a sliver of awareness for the bliss of steamy java seems an obvious transition.

warm, almost hot, liquid slithering to the back of the mouth and down the throat.

eyes open, then dart, half-smile asking for validation, sun slips below the roof line.

i enjoy the moment and it passes so quickly

leaving like a friend you love because they don't get attached, like you do, to the past.

one more sip of joe; time to go…

thoughts on the human experience

helping others, fulfilling needs, exploring, nesting, in/out, deprived when mediocrity present, highs/lows - good in theory from a distance, lows are intense and dreaded but are real and we desire real because we want the full experience, not half or two thirds but all there is available to us, which is limited due to society, money, awareness, and time. breathe it in, spit it out. smell the roses, scream at the thorns. touch the breast, sing melancholy memories. one more time. just one more time. why sweet tastes at the end of time? been there, done that - but yes, one more please - consume, live, re-live, and describe to another who can't taste, see, smell. ears perfect, packet received. smiles, joy - the result of hard work, perseverance - perhaps the purpose of it all - momentary satisfaction - or even better (?)…contributing to someone else's.

Mt. Emei, Sichuan province - part 2 of 5 by BASIL

CHAPTER 2: “THE WORST CREATURES ON EARTH”

So, we’ve seen the beautiful sound pavilion.
And, my ears are STILL ringing.
We continue (along with a crowd of two hundred tourists) to see the monkeys. Most people do the whole hike, but this is what the people here do: They take the bus to the bus station right next to the monkeys, see the monkeys, yell at the monkeys and throw food at them, and then take the bus back down.
So I’m sort of getting the “These people are unbelievably lame” feeling.
Pretty soon, we see a sign that says a bunch of stuff about how the wild monkeys often appear here and do not tease them blah blah blah.
Shockingly, we run into Jesse and Chris. This is really surprising because we totally didn’t plan it. It was cool, but then Jesse pulled up his sleeve and showed us a vicious puncture wound. He said a monkey had bitten him because he was too close to the baby. What had happened was the baby jumped on his shoulder and then the mama monkey lunged lighting fast and clamped down on his arm. He had to get a rabies shot, but was lucky that the bus station was so close. A guy had found him and helped him get the shot. This scares me and Kayl because it throws in a whole new possibility: The monkeys could be savage.
We continue on, not seeing any monkeys. We’re basically on a path right next to a cliff face and Kayl is terrified that a monkey is up on the face of the cliff, preparing to leap onto his head. About fifteen minutes later, we see another sign, once again saying that the monkeys often appear here. No monkeys appear. Twenty minutes later, we cross a stream, and then continue. Still no monkeys. We cross a bridge that honestly looks like it’s ready to just collapse. I cautiously cross first, springing back when a rung breaks under my weight.
We ALL cross very cautiously.
After surviving the bridge, we come across a sign. Can you guess what it says?
Yeah, another sign predicting the appearance of the monkeys.
Twenty-five minutes later, we see commotion on a bridge up ahead. As we approach, we see why. People are lined up with cameras, taking photographs of themselves with a

monkey on their shoulder. 

The bridge is littered with corn, the favorite food of all monkeys. We walk by quietly. There’s a huge male monkey just sitting on the stairs. We walk by him and he follows us. It’s a little creepy, but he doesn’t seem malicious until he bares his teeth. We start to walk faster. Kayl is sort of whimpering now, and I’m freaking out. 

We see a mama and a baby clinging onto the cliff face, fighting over a corn cob. I think this is pretty cool, so me and Dad get closer to check it out. Just then, the huge male we had seen on the steps lunges at Dad, who’s taking pictures. It misjudges its leap and whacks into my leg. Then the monkey turns around and bares its teeth again at me and snarls as if to saw, “Why are you in my way?” Then the baby jumps towards Dad, Mom screams, and it dissolves into pandemonium.

Mom starts yelling for everyone to stay calm, which is sort of hypocritical since she’s totally freaking out. She starts whacking her stick on the ground, and we walk by. Then, the whole monkey family climbs onto the handrail and starts following us. Dad starts taking pictures, but me and Kayl and Mom start running. The monkeys start moving faster, and Mom is screaming at Dad for him to come and stop taking pictures. Dad eventually comes, and the monkeys give up the chase. 

Kayl starts crying, and saying how the monkeys are the worst creatures on earth. We continue shakily on. But the monkeys are not over yet. We come up to these two girls. One is comforting the other, who has two giant puncture wounds in her neck and is barely supporting herself from loss of blood. Dad runs over, and asks her what’s wrong. She chokes out, “my heart,” which is a little vague. Dad wants to help her back, but Kayl starts crying again at the memory of the monkeys and refuses to let Dad go. The people get through that there are very bad monkeys ahead, throwing Kayl into hysterics. I’m sort of getting the feeling like, “we should just camp on the trail.” Just then, two porters come along. Porters are people who carry chairs on their shoulders and carry people up and down the mountain. I’m terrified at the thought of trusting my life to somebody else, but some people probably allow themselves to be carried, otherwise the porters couldn’t stay in business. But the two porters, hollering at the monkeys, help the two girls through. With one less thing on our minds, we continue on to face another round of “the worst creatures on earth.” On our way, we pass a woman and her husband, the woman crying, clutching her bruised head, and has her stocking ripped apart and covered in blood. She points the way we’re going and says that the monkeys are very bad. Then her and her husband leave.
So, we’re all just incredibly reassured.

The monkeys just sort of watch us as we pass by, hitting our sticks, averting our eyes, and shaking with terror. We make a pathetic sight. The monkeys seem to come to the conclusion that they should let us go through, because one of them hisses at us and they retreat. Then we look up, and a monkey is just sitting right in front of us, blocking the path. We start freaking out, and just then the monkeys change their mind again, and sort of come up behind us, trapping us. Just then, a porter comes down the trail and yells something. The monkeys seem to think that we are declaring war on them, because the lead monkey, the one sitting on the path, opens his mouth and makes this freakish sound.
Then, he starts kind of shuffling towards us. He stands in front of us, terrifying us, and then walks by. He halfheartedly attempts to grab my staff, but it’s a weak try. We start kind of speed walking, then it turns into a run. Soon we reach a bridge. I kind of have

this weird sense of security, like “once we cross this bridge, they can’t follow us.”

We cross the bridge, and then we break down and start shaking with relief. “We have to go down on the bus,” Kayl gets out. “We are,” Mom assures him. We shakily continue on, still sort of freaked out. After a couple stairs (meaning a hundred thousand, literally), we arrive at a place called the Hard Wok Cafe. The menu looks really good, but we really just want to reach our goal. After a short climb of two hundred steps, we reach the Venerable Trees Terrace Monastery. 

We get a room for only two hundred yuan ($35) and go put our stuff away in the room. 






Then we decide to walk the short distance back to the Hard Wok Cafe and eat.

After, we walk back up to the monastery to get some sleep. It’s freezing, and Dad has to go ask an Ayi for extra blankets. When she comes in with the blankets, she starts tugging Kayl’s socks off and yelling something in Chinese. Mom starts saying how she’s right, Kayl would be warmer without socks. When the Ayi starts heading in my direction (no doubt after my socks), I spring out of bed and race out the door, mumbling some lame excuse about “having to use the bathroom.” It starts raining really hard when I’m in the bathroom, and the distance from the bathroom to the inside of the monastery is outside. And, I’m wearing socks, not shoes. I basically edge my way along this ledge with a tiny overhang that keeps me dry-ish. When I reach the room, I fall right asleep. I’m just so tired. In the middle of the night, there’s this HUGE clap of thunder that wakes everybody up. Mom checks her watch and says that it’s 3:00 in the morning and we don’t need to wake up until 7:00, so we can get a good night’s sleep. Oh, how wrong she is.
We all drift back to sleep.

our room at Venerable Trees Terrace Monastery (hong chin ping)...

Mt. Emei, Sichuan province - part 1 of 5 by BASIL

about a month ago, at the beginning of october, we flew to chengdu in sichuan province (middle of china) to check out a city with so much history it doesn't even know itself all that well.  the highlight of chengdu for us was meeting a friendly, spirit guide who used to live in emeishan (2 hours from chengdu by bus).  this is nicholas who is a healer, numerologist, story teller, tai chi student, and taoist.  it's difficult to summarize our conversations with / impressions of nicholas other than to say that my family was immediately comforted by his presence and smitten by his charm.  i couldn't imagine our trip to chengdu reaching the same depth had we not crossed paths.

so our story starts as nicholas travels with us by taxi to the bus station to make sure we get on the right bus to emeishan where we are planning to climb 3000 meter high mount emei.  we fly in and out of chengdu, but the adventures in this post occur on mount emei.

lastly, before we begin, rather than retell this story from my point of view, my son basil has already recorded an account so i've decided to share his rendition.  it's a bit lengthy so i'm dividing it into 5 posts.

ENJOY!

******************************************************************

PREFACE
I’m writing about my vacation to Chengdu. I climbed up Mount Emei (pronounced like oo-may), and saw some things too amazing to describe.
But I’m going to try.

INTRO: LEAVING CHENGDU
So basically what I’ve done is skipped the boring part where we stayed in hotels in Chengdu. Later I may return to my experiences in Chengdu, but for now I’m skipping straight to out arrival.
On the bus, we meet these two nice college kids named Jesse and Chris. They’re American and are traveling China for a year because they study Chinese and want some real experience. Dad and Mom start chattering, and I lose interest.

When we arrive in Emei, this is what I see: basically a dump. There’s trash thrown on the sidewalk, people begging on the street, doors destroyed and stores closed down. Crates are upturned everywhere, and I’m instantly getting the vibe, “this is gonna suck.” I kind of try to stay upbeat, but I’m already sort of wishing we had stayed in Chengdu. We’re pretty much starving from the long bus ride, so we go to get dinner with Jesse and Chris. This part of our experience is so awful I don’t want to describe it in detail, instead I’ll use a few words: Emei is definitely not known for its food. We go to our hostel, all feeling like Emei is lame. We just crash, and the next day Dad is shaking me out of bed. “Come on, we already missed our goal!” Dad had planned to wake us up at 7:10, and it was 8:30. I kind of roll over and almost fall out of bed. I had slept in a top bunk with no railing. My eyes flash open and I sit up quick.
And whack my head on the low ceiling. Yeah, our big hiking day is off to a great start.

CHAPTER 1: THE BEAUTIFUL DETOUR PAVILION
Jesse and Chris left way earlier to get an early start on the mountain, so we walk alone to the base of the mountain. Chinese people start laughing at us like, “Haha, the Americans are trying to climb the holy mountain. Haha. Suckers.” I’m just going to tell you now that we passed all of them by day 2 and were some the only people at that base that reached the top.
Haha. Suckers.
So, feeling kind of annoyed, exhausted, and bored, we walk to the trail head. Mom and Dad start taking tons of pictures of a big stone wall.

Thanks, Mom and Dad. You guys couldn’t look more like tourists if you tried.
Wait, yes you could.
I turn around to see my Dad talking to a bunch of Chinese people. Well, not talking exactly. He’s trying to say something in Chinese and utterly failing. I think he’s just putting Chinese words he knows together in a random order. The Chinese people look confused. What a surprise. I guess I should be thankful that he’s not saying “Chugga chugga chugga chugga choo choo si nar?” He did that once. I’m serious. In a taxi. Trying to ask where the train station was. Now he’s pointing at me and saying “Wo ta erzu.” In Chinese, that means ‘my son’. Oh, no no no no no. That creep is not my father. I shake my head vigorously. Kayl’s yelling at Dad now, telling him that we have to go. I just kind of walk over into an open space and started breakdancing. A crowd of twenty people has gathered in two minutes. God, are these people desperate for entertainment. They’re cheering now. I feel kind of awkward. Even the people Dad was humiliating himself in front of are coming over. Now the crowd is yelling something random in Chinese over and over. O...k. Right. This is so weird. I sort of awkwardly get up and walk over to the trail head. We start hiking. About three minutes in, a crowd of twenty-year-old girls gathers and starts asking to take their picture with Dad. Sure, of course! Dad is always happy to oblige a group of random strangers.

After we pass the giggling girls, we basically get into a routine of just walking and walking. We take occasional breaks, and Dad talks to Chinese people. At one point we stop to get lunch and almost go the completely wrong way. a bunch of Chinese people luckily spot us and point us in the right direction. Of course, Dad has to practice his Chinese.
A little later, we notice something kind of strange. We’ve been walking up the whole way, but now we start walking down. See, the way that this mountain works is you go up one peak, down the other side, and the so on and so forth. But as we’re walking down, it strikes me how slippery it is and I turn to see how far we’ve come already, and my foot sweeps out from under me. I go crashing to the ground and fall off the path. Mom screams, and I see how bad it is. There’s a ledge, but thorn bushes below me. My foot slips into a thorn bush and I spin to see my situation. I’m falling.
I’m falling and if I don’t do something quick I’m going to keep falling. These are the only thoughts going through my head, but they’re enough. I shoot my hand up and reflexively catch onto the ledge, my foot buried in the thorn bush. Two Chinese guys reach down and pull me up, but I’m too shocked to even thank them. Dad says something, and I snap back to reality. Dad looks half mad and half scared. I don’t even notice my physical condition, but Mom does. She starts getting out the first aid kit, and I look over my body. I’m so shocked I can’t even feel any pain. but then I see. There’s a gash in my ankle and my hand is sliced open. Mom’s as white-faced as me. We have almost nothing to fix it with. Then the pain hits me. I wince and roll over as my hand starts aching. I bury it in my shirt, but all that’s doing is making my white shirt stained red. Blood is gushing out of my hand and I’m starting to get scared. Mom gets out a wipe, and I bite my lip to keep from screaming. It stings, but then Mom takes out tweezers and says that she has to get the dirt out. I’m terrified at the thought, and I protest. “No, Mom, please, no...” Kayl is screaming for her to stop, but I realize it has to be cleaned. I wipe my eyes and clench my other hand into a fist to hold in my pain. The tweezers penetrate the wound and the pain is almost too much. I see stars, but then it’s over. Kayl is so scared he’s almost crying, and I just hold out my hand so Mom can wrap it. Once it’s wrapped, I get up. I kind of wince as I grasp my walking stick, and I realize how close to death or a bad injury I came. I go from feeling like my luck is nonexistent to the luckiest person on earth. After we walk in silence for a while, we approach a monastery. A monk is in a field farming. He hails us and calls me over. I think this is kind of weird, but go over. He grabs my staff and slams it into the ground, and I think he’s going to break it. But instead he knocks it on the ground a few times and says “Ho zu.” Dad takes out his phone and learns that it means ‘monkey’. I guess he’s saying whacking our stick on the ground will scare off the monkeys. We thank the monk and continue. Somewhere along the way, Dad has this idea that we should totally detour off the trail to see the Beautiful Sound Pavilion. Me and Kayl argue with Dad for a while until he agrees that it’s silly to totally detour. I think we only win because Mom’s on our side.

We keep walking, and then I hear a loud roaring noise and suddenly can’t hear my own thoughts. I’m like, “where the heck are we?” It sounds like a construction site. Dad speaks up. Or yells up. Because of the noise. Whatever. “What a surprise!” Is his beginning line. “It’s the Beautiful Sound Pavilion! We totally just stumbled off course!” Of course we did, Dad. You have no clue how to lose an argument.
After Dad’s incredibly convincing excuses, we continue on. No point in wasting an hour without seeing the pavilion. As we approach, we can hear, among the roaring (which I now see is a waterfall, a crowd of about a hundred and fifty people yelling and taking pictures and running around.
Yeah, real beautiful.

just like van gogh in arles!

...not exactly - in fact i'm pretty sure van gogh didn't have a wife and kids living with him when he did some of his most amazing work.  i picture van gogh as a poor, struggling, bi-polar, misunderstood artist who lived a wild night life with single guy friends and repaired to the morning, outdoor air for his daily dose of painting therapy.  i think i've just inspired myself to read more about his life - realizing i know so little about him - how easily i've distilled these snippets of one man's life into an iconic character through which i might assume a vicarious existence.  lord knows i'm not living that life at present.

i have transportation - my bicycle.  i have my paints, canvases, brushes, easels, and i've even located an art supplies store that has all i need to replenish my inventory (at very reasonable prices too i might add).

finding the art supplies store was no small feat however.  i set out on the metro (subway) and thirty minutes later popped up in the middle of old town suzhou.  using the google translate app on my phone i was able to plead sweetly enough with a jewelry shop owner's daughter to take pity on me.  she listened patiently until something i said in mandarin made sense.  after that, she knew what to do and how to look up where the store was located.  she even wrote down the address in chinese characters so i could hand it to a taxi driver.  in my case, it was easier to hail a scooter and hop on behind the driver.   this had multiple unforeseen benefits: 1) scooters can fit in narrow alleyways which makes for a "video game" type of fun, 2) by scooting through the alleyways, i realized how safe these travel corridors were, and 3) carly told me that i'm not single and as carefree anymore (i'm paraphrasing for sure) as in the old days when i could jump on the back of a scooter in thailand to get from one town to the next.  it felt good to realize that i can have a family and enjoy the domestic pleasures that go with it AND also honor my independence and spirit of adventure.  along these lines, while i'm not putting on a flying squirrel suit any time soon and souring through the french alps, i'm not completely divided from the concept of risk.  being comfortable with an existence that is not 100% guaranteed is to accept the frailty of life - a practice i thoroughly endorse.

several days later i introduce carly and the kids to the narrow alleys...

as i headed out the door one beautiful august morning, little did i know that in addition to painting my first canvas on the street, i would also have the opportunity to try chicken feet.  i know what you're thinking: who doesn't love gnawing on a marinated chicken foot in the company of friends?  apparently not me, though not without trying them i assure you.

i order three feet and notice my appetite for the remaining two waning as i nibble the last toe on the first.

the following scene for my first painting was chosen since it included the chicken feet restaurant (they also had tofu and beer) and was across the canal from the heavy foot traffic of tourist lane / district pingjiang lu.  this helped keep the amount of onlookers to a minimum, though still failed to deter dozens of the more curious who would cross the bridge, pass the tables and steaming pots of chicken feet, and settle behind me to watch each and every brush stroke.  at times this was a distraction, if only inside my head.  other times, tourists (all chinese by the way) would seek interaction and tell me they liked my painting or wanted to take my picture with my painting or with them.  i learned however that my job as a street painter was to be mildly irritated with these tourists and not smile.  my image to them was enhanced if i took my job seriously and in this case it's all about the painting.  that said, i didn't do my job very well and very much enjoyed stopping to talk with people of all ages.

i liked the red lanterns on the building to the left immensely and was rather looking forward to putting them in the painting but didn't know when that moment would come.  and then what do ya know, a little boy comes up to look at the painting and he just stands there patient and eager to glimpse the entire scene - a mini celebration of beauty, reflection, a work in progress, and an excuse to gather and point.  he was cute and his energy youthful and vibrant - four strokes of the brush with unmixed cadmium red et voila!

there were two other memorable encounters that day.  at one point, it rained for about fifteen minutes.  i bought a large technicolor umbrella for this possibility and while waiting for the storm to pass, was approached by two college girls who offered to hold the umbrella while i paint.  i accepted and felt quite honored.  and then on separate occasion, after i finished my painting which i celebrated with a cold beer on a rather warm day, a man contemplated the painting while smoking his cigarette.  he told me he liked it and asked how much it would cost him to buy.  i was unprepared and said i didn't know. he said nothing more, nodded, and then wandered into the bustle.

i've had a few other experiences with street painting and it is always interesting.  when i look at any of those paintings, i am reminded of the many faces and expressions that neighbored the easel.  i recall the cormorant fisherman leaving the mahjong gathering, paddling his boat and birds east.  he passes the garbage boat (residents throw trash out their windows into the canals.  the trash that floats is picked up by these two men - one steers / propels the boat by pushing and pulling a long wooden oar back and forth while the other reaches into the water with a skimmer pole) and as he does, offers a friendly gesture of casual conversation.  his voice is deep and grounded like an oak tree, the tenor of his girth reflecting his ability to acquire more than rice for his evening meal.

or the women periodically washing their mops in the canal.  and then there's megan, who recently moved from japan to old suzhou with her husband, still unpacking boxes and settling in.  to share a few sentences every half hour with a new friend, to receive offers of refreshment and snacks, and lastly to simply putter about (for me, painting / for her, hanging the laundry and attempting broken mandarin with her ayi) in adjacent spaces - peaceful, purposeful enough, and social in a silent way.

here's a couple photographs of some of the places i've painted along with the paintings they inspired.  i hope you enjoy them.

the cormorant fisherman greets the garbagemen:

megan settles into old suzhou:

air quality - it's just a little smog right? no big deal...

wow, it's almost November, the weather's cooling off and the pollution is setting in - over 180 yesterday, in Suzhou, on the AQI (Air Quality Index). btw, the rating of 151-200 receives the label:"Everyone may begin to experience health effects; members of sensitive groups may experience more serious health effects."  

the AQI reached 493 in Harbin a few days ago and the city shut down (schools, airports, offices, etc.).  again, according to the AQI index, anything above 300 is deemed "hazardous."  the description further includes the interesting phrase: "premature death of ill and elderly persons may result."

(i remember in VT when it didn't get above 0 for a whole week straight - and i thought that was hard.  can you imagine the scenario above??  we're not talking cars that won't start, we're talking hacking, blackened nostrils, and more hacking - yuck...oh yeah, and if you're old or sick, you may be pushed over the railing into the long sleep - even if you thought you still had some years here)

the AQI legend has it that at levels under 100, "air quality is still acceptable" which is interesting terminology since L.A. is currently at 154.  are we, as citizens, supposed to protest?  is the government suppose to issue a public apology stating that "they realize air quality levels are unacceptable, are working on a solution, and will be personally troubled until levels reduce to acceptable levels?"  is that what "acceptable" means?"  because if it means that we, the people, will accept it, who's kidding who???

the chinese people accepted levels recently in Harbin almost 5 times the "acceptable"maximum.  and yet coal fired plants continue to operate.  this should be a warning signal to the U.S. - to YOU.  do we want a better economy?  a pez dispenser and new set of superman underoos for every kid?  and what if another country offered us bunches of money to make stuff for them with the only downside that it would pollute our air.  what then?  are the hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of newly created jobs worth damaging one of the very basic, fundamentally fertile conditions of human-friendly planet earth?  

humans need clean water, clean air, and food that nourishes them.  how can the same modern civilization that brings us iPhones, indoor amusement parks, space age yachts, 2700 foot high skyscrapers, and airplanes that can transplant a weary traveler halfway around the world in less than half a day...(pause / inhale)...ALSO bring down common resources like "the air we breathe."

this is what a "backwards global society" looks like.  where the poor helplessly give up seemingly communal natural resources like clean air to serve jobs that allow them to barely survive while the rich move somewhere more "agreeable" - only returning to check on productivity.  what must we exploit before the leaders of the world can agree on what the basics are and how to reverse the damage we've done??  ***btw, every time we buy something we don't really need, we make our leaders' tasks more complicated and difficult.

the "tragedy of the commons" is an old phrase that dates back to when Boston Commons was used as a pasture for livestock to graze.  everyone who lived nearby was allowed to have so many sheep happily munch the common resource of grass.  this was fine until greed separated the people from their neighbors and someone thought "I'll pasture a couple extra head of sheep" to get ahead a little; it's just a wee infraction - nothing that will add up to anything for sure.  however, what ended up happening is that people noticed when a neighbor was grazing more than his/her fair share - and then what did they do but add a few extra head also.  pretty soon the grass was all munched up and the animals starved.  rather than manage the resource they all depended on, they allowed their "human folly" to get in the way and spoil their attempt to separate from the animal ways of their distant (?) monkey cousins.  this is the "tragedy of the commons."

you don't have to be environmental, tree hugging democrat to want clean f***ing air to breathe.

as mindful as i am about how many "shoulds" i jettison into this complicated and boggling world, i try to simply be grateful for what is, not the "greener side of the fence."  however, i draw the line at pollution.  it is simply WRONG to encourage industry at the social expense of shared resources.  it's like if the catcher were to de-mask the ump at a Sox game and punch him out - (simply WRONG) game over, fans shuffle out of the stands mumbling, wondering WTF happened...

i miss the clean air, clean water, and local, healthy food of Vermont.

btw, White Plains, NY is in the 30s (AQI) whereas Texas is ranging from the 40s - 70s.  Bellevue, WA is 70 at present.

happy breathing all...