Robjstaples's travel blogs:
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Life above the clouds
Entry 12 of 43 | show all | print this entry |
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This is a very special place. Sometimes on this earth you are lucky enough to see a vista before you that first takes your breath away and then perpetually enchants you at each turn as it continually changes with every play of the light across the landscape. You want to take picture after picture, but actually the camera is useless to capture the majesty of your surroundings and words aren't much better. The inspired words that came from my mouth as I opened the curtains to see fronds of cloud drifting up the valley beneath me, were, "Bloody hell!" That was not to blaspheme or offend, but simply to find myself absolutely stunned by the unexpected beauty of it all.
There is a stunning contrast in the scale of the steeply climbing hillsides and the fine lines of their contours in all colours of green picked out by the rice terraces. The only thing that I've seen that compares in visual impact is the Grand Canyon. This place, however, is unmistakably China. The seemingly endless terracing is a unique image created by the hand of man over about 800 years, yet so natural and peaceful are the valleys, it's hard to reconcile what you're seeing with something man-made. Yet lest this seem too idyllic and impossibly good, modern civil engineers have provided a reminder that this is the 21st century, and unfortunately for them, that they are also very stupid. Slashing through the valley are the yellow stripes of tracks created for vehicle use using modern machinery, and above these tracks are huge yellow screens where the hillside has collapsed in recent rains. This modern subsidence of the hillsides is in marked contrast to the carefully engineered 800 year old hillsides where there's no sign of the hill slipping away. I wonder if they figured out the lesson in this yet?
The place I'm saying is quite new but in a traditional style. Like all the other hostel/hotels, it's basically a barn with wooden rooms upstairs and huge ground floor communal area where there is a collie bitch nursing and guarding a litter of newborn pups. The footpath passing the front door sees a constant flow of Yao ladies dressed in colourful shawls and headwear. They're always stopping to chat or to sew and to gently and cheerfully persuade me to buy some of their handiwork. It's notable that most of the local people I see working here are women, with the men either enjoying sitting at home or more likely seeking work elsewhere and rarely coming back. Strangely amidst the rice terraces there are potato plots behind the building and at the side the chicken who will doubtless shortly appear on a plate.
The lady who runs the hostel with her husband is a star. She's always cheerful and trying to help with this or that. Between us, we have had long conversations about China, England, France, visitors she's had and the Yao people and their life up here. She speaks 10 words of English at most and I've got my 300 words of Chinese and between us and paper and pictures we can communicate for ages. It's a nice reminder not to get hung up on language. It's also set into contrast by one of the other guests who's come here to rent a room and study English for a couple of months. I can't help but admire his determination, but it says something about the approach to language learning that he expects to learn the language on his own without speaking it. He's delighted to try talking to me, but has never listened to spoken English and the communication just isn't there between us. I'm also not sure if he can't or refuses to try and understand any Chinese I speak, but at least the landlady understands!
I can stand for hours just gazing at this landscape. Above all I'm struck by the peace and stillness of this isolated farmland. It's obvious from the number of hostels that many visitors come to see it, but it is still inaccessible and it feels like my own private valley and the climb to the hostel feels worth every step now. I climbed further up to the top of the valley and over the other side. It was tricky going on wet paving slabs, but I was joined by a local dog who first followed warily at a distance but who was eventually trotting by my side. It was nice to have the canine company, and also reminded me how unusual it is to see house dogs. Here, they are at every property and happily trot around, proper, big dogs, not ratty little chihuahua things either!
Much as I'm enjoying my time here, I'll have to tear myself away soon and head down and down and down and out of the valley. I would have gone sooner but a tremendous thunderstorm closed in which seemed to last for hours. I'm not brave enough or dumb enough to head out in that and it was entertainment in itself although one or two visitors were not impressed when the electricity and consequently the television was knocked out. Now, the mountain is dripping and steaming and the walk down will be through pockets of fine swirling mist. I wonder if there will be a road left at the bottom after the storm or will I be coming back later...? I wouldn't be too upset if I was stuck up here, that's for sure.
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