tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75465942146139732402024-02-20T07:48:18.411+08:00Cultural Impacts on InfrastructureAn Investigation into the Water System of Ancient and Modern LijiangLizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-18949139208272976592008-08-23T21:10:00.018+08:002008-08-27T11:31:46.958+08:00Great Endings<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjFz-krPCQHlmPzOo36PhYqlsZc980roNZXhPGCegBSbmpH2nDDpdajKAM8_VavhnwYMrOJF_l0sXAy-STfzEFOIG1rZVss4iXozZONdbJPDuNvFHo1mBd4eCnnnPaw2YqomCBFSizjafJ/s1600-h/P1050346.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239034390241610242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjFz-krPCQHlmPzOo36PhYqlsZc980roNZXhPGCegBSbmpH2nDDpdajKAM8_VavhnwYMrOJF_l0sXAy-STfzEFOIG1rZVss4iXozZONdbJPDuNvFHo1mBd4eCnnnPaw2YqomCBFSizjafJ/s200/P1050346.JPG" border="0" /></a>My final day was awash in new goodbyes. In the morning I said farewell to my two older gentlemen friends, to Lily my helpful friend and interpreter, to my calligraphy teacher and classmates. I had a final meeting at The Nature Conservancy, further saying goodbye to the friends I had made there. There was dinner and visiting with Sunny, and gift-giving and address-swapping with my Meimeis. And finally: relaxing and joking with the hardworking girls & Mama & Papa at my hostel. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1qhyTX01-Vzkcio08sev58gPwwFZlFxJQieonItYhSD9dvxEK9I4JddKgoa4ON3tceC_aXQt9TmKn77Job4q9XeeIh2CWHpqT1mxEBgxg-6wQJW5r2aZc7RKIcRfodpWmIpyKhjg-5pP/s1600-h/DSC07610.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239034397094327346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1qhyTX01-Vzkcio08sev58gPwwFZlFxJQieonItYhSD9dvxEK9I4JddKgoa4ON3tceC_aXQt9TmKn77Job4q9XeeIh2CWHpqT1mxEBgxg-6wQJW5r2aZc7RKIcRfodpWmIpyKhjg-5pP/s200/DSC07610.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFiHIaRaOAdUphCP1CubovknC9sGzVhrodAe-0DQ8toCr4_6DRNBQdYZKFEIj4DxVg0F6XZ6sPFl4a39_xtkU6PSd48kMgyG2W8BiBROJETKL_iqWz-UitRExys9NqI-xJOPJrHswfJzud/s1600-h/DSC07604.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />At my final meeting, TNC left me with words of wisdom:<br /><em></em><br /><em>Lijiang is a World Heritage Site because it has a history of accepting China's many cultures. The people of Lijiang learn from others, accept other cultures...they are very open minded</em>. The new cultures coming in, whether "mainstream" or not, have been coming in for centuries. Lijiang is Master of Assimilation. <em>And so, in this way, you cannot say change is bad. It's a process for the future.</em><br /><br />This is so important to remember, especially as I reflect on this hub of change, preservation, and development. If you cannot prevent, you can at least effectively and efficiently adapt. Lijiang's been doing it for centuries, so why shouldn't it continue today?<br /><br /><strong>...<br /></strong><br /><strong>As my time in Lijiang comes to a close--</strong>perhaps one of my most memorable summers ever<strong>-- I wanted to end with a favorite story from my time here.<br /></strong><br />After developing a second batch of photos for my new gentlemen friends, I headed back to their home to thank them for all their hospitality. My favorite Navy Blue Wonder greeted me at the door, immediately inviting me to sit in his chair, drink promptly-provided tea, and munch on locally praised sunflower seeds. Children filed in from upstairs, nodding to me in friendly <em>there's-a-foreigner-in-my-courtyard! </em>surprise.<br /><br />As we chatted, I expressed my hesitancy to go back home; the elder gentleman agreed that yes, indeed, it was sad. Then, lightning quick, the kind sir went into a back room, returning with a small box. The box was a hazy clear, laying peek to a small figure inside. "<em><strong>Shangdi, Shangdi</strong>"</em> he said, motioning at the box. He wrote it out for me so I could look it up in my dictionary:<br /><br />"<strong>God</strong>."<br /><br /><em>Everyone has their God</em>, he explained to me. <em>Even in America, there is God</em>.<br /><br />I carefully opened the box as he handed it to me, delicately revealing the ivory figurine inside. It looked worn from touch, its cream color roughed around the edges with a brown musty dirt. The figure was Man, with arms outstretched, standing in confident omnipotence. His long hair reached his shoulders with dignity, and a long fur cloak stretched down to his feet; the coat's long sleeves draping his thin wrists in scholarly significance. Finally, an outstretched finger pointed to a worshipping audience. With mouth agape, this little figure, this little God, seemed to be <strong>teaching</strong>.<br /><br />I began to wonder how old this figure was-- how long my gentleman friend had owned it, where he had gotten it, and how it figured into his Naxi ethnicity's belief in Dongba. Who was this <em>God</em>? There are so many Gods in this world, his world, which one was this? And, why was I priviledged to be the new owner of such a treasured item?<br /><br />As I continued to behold my beloved gift, I turned the little God in my hand, inspecting every corner. There, at its foot, I finally understood. There, hidden at the bottom of this sacred symbolism, was my answer.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:0;"></span><br />DISNEY. MADE IN CHINA.<br /><br /><br />A plastic toy?!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />There is so much you cannot know in one glance, so much that can be clouded with a little assumption.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Two days after owning my treasured gift, I now know a little more. This little revered God...<br />is wearing <em>heels</em>.<br /><br />And has...<br /><em>breasts</em>.<br /><br /><br />This little God... is <em>Cruella Deville!</em><br /><br />I guess it just shows: experiences need time to set in before you really can learn from them, huh?<br /><br />xiexie & byebye!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-40337667855227791362008-08-22T08:51:00.006+08:002008-08-22T09:23:51.728+08:00T minus 2Rather than schedule those last possible meetings (difficult now that my cell phone is out of minutes!), I resolved to spend my last 2 days in Lijiang calm and relaxed. And I’m so glad I did, because the morning rightfully started out with a <span style="font-weight: bold;">bang</span>.<br /><br />This past Monday, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbkkNsezYW5WFX_x6pG9GbzfFQaQnEg6b5agMTHOSnBOYT3pQxmjFWAex9wBZ5b96yQsKOI1Wjw5tz7J7SQPZH-FmKcFOWCcisNy92Y16y3mQApLuio8QDSOKUJ51j5J53Vz6u-HT28sbk/s1600-h/DSC07277.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbkkNsezYW5WFX_x6pG9GbzfFQaQnEg6b5agMTHOSnBOYT3pQxmjFWAex9wBZ5b96yQsKOI1Wjw5tz7J7SQPZH-FmKcFOWCcisNy92Y16y3mQApLuio8QDSOKUJ51j5J53Vz6u-HT28sbk/s200/DSC07277.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237138919609019330" border="0" /></a>I was supposed to meet two older men for a “picture hand-off” in the main square. I had interviewed them with Lily over the weekend, and had promised them printed pictures. However, because of Monday’s morning rain, the two men personally made their way to my hostel instead, so I did not have to walk through the downpour. So wonderful of them! Sadly, though, the pictures had not yet been printed, and they had to leave with only umbrella in hand.<br /><br />For two more mornings, they trekked to my hostel. And, for each of those mornings, they were without luck; the pictures were not yet ready.<br /><br />But finally, today they were.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeYsUWnf-sSn_KwoOZkQbrIlqOBm9l08GRY4jwBVjAlb63Hr8ri83BlH8wCv6UmMNX7qWcoCoSKEViG9AUsYwb7Nq92eqp3ciik4V6jqqe1U1_8xW7gfHMpwvgPzjmTsKN74E3WfezSiE7/s1600-h/DSC07494+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeYsUWnf-sSn_KwoOZkQbrIlqOBm9l08GRY4jwBVjAlb63Hr8ri83BlH8wCv6UmMNX7qWcoCoSKEViG9AUsYwb7Nq92eqp3ciik4V6jqqe1U1_8xW7gfHMpwvgPzjmTsKN74E3WfezSiE7/s200/DSC07494+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237145933256663458" border="0" /></a>Mama Naxi helped me call one of my picture-questing friends with the news. Thirty minutes later, there he was, all navy blue of him, umbrella-turned-cane in hand. I gave him the pictures, he smiled thankfully… then invited me to their home. How could I resist? I dropped everything I was doing and accompanied him on the 20-minute walk to their house.<br /><br />As I followed the cute navy-blue 81-year-old, I was thrilled for the invitation. We left touristy Old Town, and went to where the residents actually lived. Calmer, greener, with pretty views of the rolling green hillside. I’m so lucky I got to see this part of Old Town before I left.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpgrQEaj2L2BbvtZg8tNT3OHSdBqwLcE3kVl6ns1xcpIWO5prDUr_S9Q7QUZpyaDJKNlLmSpTTMq8t3S7cylbc-RWH80T7V6HJJounerdYZLG5TNeQM1Ybv8oQC5K3wmKCs0ryV0ELvjO8/s1600-h/DSC07466.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpgrQEaj2L2BbvtZg8tNT3OHSdBqwLcE3kVl6ns1xcpIWO5prDUr_S9Q7QUZpyaDJKNlLmSpTTMq8t3S7cylbc-RWH80T7V6HJJounerdYZLG5TNeQM1Ybv8oQC5K3wmKCs0ryV0ELvjO8/s200/DSC07466.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237144440882744402" border="0" /></a>We arrived at a courtyard-style home—the most squeaky-clean abode I’ve been to in all of Lijiang. The floors were sparkling white, the flowers huge, the birds calm. I sat with Kind Navy Blue Man and his cousin, Smiley Beard Man, for perhaps an hour, chatting lusciously about little things now and then, but mostly sitting in comfortable silence while sipping Puer tea. I have a hard time just sitting when visiting with people. I feel like I should be talking, doing, inquiring. But, sometimes just sitting is the best way to visit; the company is all that matters. Especially to these men.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg968U-hNKD9CBhGfhywPC8xG6xo7RzTVCNneSWt973oKnI7VFVHmwvjiBWhGlY-N76EAY-_o3M3d2jI1CGIfX8UzKmo7Uii_vqoPyqHb5G40hO0ERfITtQPjQhjKbgcQo_bIvM6fD0dcxh/s1600-h/DSC07473.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg968U-hNKD9CBhGfhywPC8xG6xo7RzTVCNneSWt973oKnI7VFVHmwvjiBWhGlY-N76EAY-_o3M3d2jI1CGIfX8UzKmo7Uii_vqoPyqHb5G40hO0ERfITtQPjQhjKbgcQo_bIvM6fD0dcxh/s200/DSC07473.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237141468360161506" border="0" /></a>After picture-taking and walnut-munching (and of course, water pipe and well system-inspecting), they walked me over to another water source: a large 3-pit-well in southern Old Town. The men told me that in the past, when Black Dragon Pool ran low, they would often fetch their water here. In the background, in the third pool, women washed mountains of chives to be eaten later that day. (As it was morning, perhaps no one had yet done laundry, and vegetables were still OK to wash in the third pool). The women were loud, and green, green, green.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhcV0UQXfsQ1E4M0F__KBYZUC43IrhDK6At7hDp2ncwmA_mp6Qr7eqxShLDH55nnTeUfFq3n8f5bM-ak5E2zOC_UxOofsB-6z71DUgUJdvjcjhl9oBcnwc1gYO523g2osH2Gsr9RFM_nZQ/s1600-h/DSC07492.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhcV0UQXfsQ1E4M0F__KBYZUC43IrhDK6At7hDp2ncwmA_mp6Qr7eqxShLDH55nnTeUfFq3n8f5bM-ak5E2zOC_UxOofsB-6z71DUgUJdvjcjhl9oBcnwc1gYO523g2osH2Gsr9RFM_nZQ/s200/DSC07492.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237144439025790242" border="0" /></a>This really was old Lijiang, life away from all the tourism. I feel lucky to have been a part of it—if even for a few minutes.<br /><br /><br />…<br /><br /><br /><br />I had my second-to-last calligraphy class today; I’m going to miss this place. While my normal little friends were not there this time (school starts soon—September 1), I really do enjoy sitting against the sunlight, with a teacher-offered pear in one hand, and an ink-sopped brush in the other, trying to avoid the stares of the passerby tourists (Chinese & Western alike). For me, this is stress relieving—I can sit in concentration for two hours (2 hours = 100 characters) and not even realize it. Definitely will be continuing this routine back at home, for my own sanity.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNhaWMFGjA-9Q2QK9c4_DAfEFW-qyZdxU61BPbDptB-IXxYilFh1FJYZ-cSwhSCNzAP0Hez46N0tU6mO5Wv0HpVtMcu97BaN9iz7EBx1EwWSDQ-PhA3rwhA8RY3WNzFBU2fMewmjV5co0t/s1600-h/DSC07550.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNhaWMFGjA-9Q2QK9c4_DAfEFW-qyZdxU61BPbDptB-IXxYilFh1FJYZ-cSwhSCNzAP0Hez46N0tU6mO5Wv0HpVtMcu97BaN9iz7EBx1EwWSDQ-PhA3rwhA8RY3WNzFBU2fMewmjV5co0t/s200/DSC07550.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237141472318161890" border="0" /></a><br /><br />As I finished my characters, Mama Naxi (my hostel owner) popped her head in, her loud voice booming. She saw that I was getting ready to leave, and quickly invited me to go with her to buy plants for her hotel. I agreed right away—but when found out it would be a two-hour endeavor—politely declined. “OK, Fine,” she conceded. “But, I will take you to eat.”<br /><br />Without really agreeing, I was whisked away, Mama Naxi holding my hand, laughing at me as she took me through the streets. We pranced through my favorite Zhongyi Market, then out to a Muslim Halal Restaurant. As we sat there, just the two of us, she ordered her favorite beef dish—Mama knows best. While delicious, Mama Naxi made sure that I ate my whole share of the tender beef in soup, fat and bones and all. (Thank goodness I had not eaten lunch! Though, I do believe that my next two weeks of meat-income is now taken care of.) This sort of hospitality just is Mama Naxi. Treating you to lunch at a restaurant that’s not her own, paying for a meal more expensive than at her place, laughing and shoving food in your face until you threaten to explode (through hand motions & facial expressions, but not words, of course.)<br /><br />And so, I waddled home.<br /><br />Hospitality at its best <span style="font-style: italic;">hurts</span>.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-29669856752435833412008-08-21T12:33:00.004+08:002008-08-22T09:26:59.393+08:00OTHERings<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilhi8koSrpQQG2Eg_w2q1lHloTXS9X3BelhJ0SwHXguYq3oSxQcOKv-F7IM3771vSu3OpX_TLolhrm8_PbFU1OQsygYPlmESCjJ3Fdr3rAebGFft9CbHK07BBtEHXGnq7bz5WWM-8dDlIs/s1600-h/DSC07487.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilhi8koSrpQQG2Eg_w2q1lHloTXS9X3BelhJ0SwHXguYq3oSxQcOKv-F7IM3771vSu3OpX_TLolhrm8_PbFU1OQsygYPlmESCjJ3Fdr3rAebGFft9CbHK07BBtEHXGnq7bz5WWM-8dDlIs/s200/DSC07487.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237147372323640786" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">A Naxi insult I learned</span><br /><br />A Naxi grandma comes up to her friend.<br />--"Do you have the cards you promised you'd bring me today?"<br />--"Euuhh, I forgot."<br />--"Ah! <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">3 generations of your mommy</span>!"<br /><br />I have NO idea what it means, but it is quite the insult! Resulted in some hearty laughs.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">Some Dongba Poetry</span><br /></span>Sayings provided by the Dongba Research Institute.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Plow the fields before you are hungry,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Dig the well before you are thirsty.<br /><br /></span>>><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Yulong Mountain towers into the sky,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Jinsha River winds round the earth</span><br /><br />>><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">There are lofty pines on the mountain</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Because there is nurturing water and soil.<br /><br /></span>And my personal favorite:<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">Trees in deep soil will not fall,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">Wells in fertile valleys will not dry.</span><br /></span><br />The Naxi have a history of bountiful resources. It really is reflected in their overwhelming trust that Nature will Provide.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-85898277593223105132008-08-20T22:27:00.009+08:002008-08-22T09:34:47.048+08:00Weaseling my Way into the Water Company<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqeFNWiSoSLYRMTvUBwP7Ypo6C8DbxP4T61IQtZ9vhlgkvAwx0KPAtJ8ECCV_kOefwgPNd-Ls7pfOTqrzCjMMrERKzTAszroHbmoeT0IBtpUWaopPI9Tvqeg0ve8iJspp_2nRGO3QVTWmQ/s1600-h/DSC07329.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqeFNWiSoSLYRMTvUBwP7Ypo6C8DbxP4T61IQtZ9vhlgkvAwx0KPAtJ8ECCV_kOefwgPNd-Ls7pfOTqrzCjMMrERKzTAszroHbmoeT0IBtpUWaopPI9Tvqeg0ve8iJspp_2nRGO3QVTWmQ/s200/DSC07329.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237148042361419618" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAlZPB_Qmwir8LSj0_5TpT_gCvB5YluxDyyL_Yz4jofpQdayJiPYxPxNk6xH1Go0D0qZgTCMfNqdogCGsjOiWdfnWIEuzwCg1Ut0xpzGBPJXPMrMgGuPLFcDz__UmBS0477q4XWeYnB-0Z/s1600-h/DSC07301+copy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAlZPB_Qmwir8LSj0_5TpT_gCvB5YluxDyyL_Yz4jofpQdayJiPYxPxNk6xH1Go0D0qZgTCMfNqdogCGsjOiWdfnWIEuzwCg1Ut0xpzGBPJXPMrMgGuPLFcDz__UmBS0477q4XWeYnB-0Z/s200/DSC07301+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237148034163980962" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTbkzX_C6fWaEr9k-nKXuhM8fX4dfywN7AVtrDseKy5-3M2t3ITaQSKph5EwvaLlwokZ2C6IZjWFlgqO5sC5YBbjG6iHvPGIK6BbZlbLxGZGGtk6GHdjuWfU9H-ePCz8GdxtkNEkShWb-/s1600-h/DSC07315.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTbkzX_C6fWaEr9k-nKXuhM8fX4dfywN7AVtrDseKy5-3M2t3ITaQSKph5EwvaLlwokZ2C6IZjWFlgqO5sC5YBbjG6iHvPGIK6BbZlbLxGZGGtk6GHdjuWfU9H-ePCz8GdxtkNEkShWb-/s200/DSC07315.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237148039039310018" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />OK, it really wasn't weaseling.<br /><br />It was more of asking my friend Yana who graciously asked her mom to graciously call her friend who graciously drove us to the water-supply company, sat around, then graciously drove us to the wastewater treatment company, sat around, then graciously drove us back home.<br /><br />Thanks, new pal!<br /><br />I wracked my brain to remember everything I could about water supply & sanitation systems... settling chambers, filtration & sterilization units, activated sludge processes, blah, blah, blah... and battled with the language constraints preventing my questions to reach our personal tour guide.<br /><br />It's amazing how much diagrams & pictures can communicate things, even across language barriers.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I--</span> with no water supply-related language skill,<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Yana-- </span>with just a handy cell phone dictionary but no background in water supply, and<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A Water Company Employee--</span> with no previous experience in answering science-related questions (<span style="font-style: italic;">Now what chemical do you add in this process? What are your standards for turbidity?</span>) from two chatty young girls in their twenties.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">And yet</span>, diagrams & pictures helped the ideas make their way across all these extremes. Pipe drawings, schematic systems, percentages... diagrams & pictures not only help explain ideas in mere English, but across so many language and background barriers. They certainly worked today to get the ideas across--across experience, nationality, language, background, age, & gender borders-- sans even words. I am a continued fan. And my notebook, full of informative arrows, boxes, and markings, proves it.<br /><br />Company does not have a specific target number for supply they have to meet. And, the water that they do source is paid for. So,A couple things come to mind from our visit: the Water Company deals with water from Qingxi Reservoir and Yulong Snow Mountain. (Qingxi Reservoir has its own springs, Yulong's water comes from the melting glacier.) Since people access their water in Lijiang either through wells, through the public springs, through heated rainwater, or through the pipes--the Water when I asked what typical water demand was per capita... I got some confused looks. Likewise, when I asked if they were worried about the Yulong Glacier significantly depleting (global warming)... again some frowns & lowered voices. I didn't really get a straight answer from Yana--language barrier I think--but from the tone of the voice, and the look on the face (facial expressions shows all avoidance)... this seemed to be a touchy subject.<br /><br />Nonetheless, it was quite a "normal" day at the Water Co hydrological data I would have likedmpany. Still, despite this normalcy, I felt quite proud to have gotten myself there! (Thanks, Yana!) Perhaps I'll never get access to the historical records & (NO WAY would they have allowed that!)... but I got in the door--and for me, that is enough!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-5175649751353082722008-08-18T20:51:00.007+08:002008-08-18T21:25:45.724+08:00A Wedding CelebrationI wish I had pictures to accompany this post, but alas, I just enjoyed and didn't worry about picture-snapping this time.<br /><br />For all of its local culture and heritage, Lijiang is also the perfect host to the ephemeral traveler, a network of tourism. And, for all the booming development that it brings, tourism brings a wealth of hospitality, outgoingness, and fun, as well.<br /><br />Recently, I made friends with Sunny, a cute nine-year-old in my Calligraphy class. Her parents, kind people, invited me to dinner last week--they spend every summer in Lijiang (for the past ~10 years). Lijiang really is their second home.<br /><br />Tonight, we had something special to celebrate. Sunny's English teacher, a young Australian-Chinese guy, was getting married! Here was the ultimate expression of traveling romance. Two months ago, on a planned year of traveling abroad, he met a girl from Xian, also vacationing in Lijiang. They both extended their stay, and are now getting married. Sunny's parents, in wonderful Chinese hospitality, threw a huge traditional wedding bash for them tonight. Horse riding through the streets, anklets with bells on both bride and groom, thousands of red roses decorating the courtyard. Table full of food (all made by Sunny's dad), bountiful wine, a colorful cake, and many, many friends--mostly travelers themselves.<br /><br />The evening involved a small ceremony for bride & groom (the bride wears a red cloth over her face for the first bit--much like a veil), then the banging of a gong, the kiss, the popping of balloons, the throw of the flowers, the hoots and hollers of the crowd, then eating, drinking, watching Olympics (girls gymnastics), playing with babies, & teasing & laughing.<br /><br />As we munched away on the glorious banquet, just my luck: I took a bite into my <span style="font-style: italic;">jiaozi</span> (dumpling) and crunched on something hard... a silver coin! As per custom, my good fortune meant I was supposed to perform a talent. In front of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Everyone</span>. Woweee. Chanting began, <span style="font-style: italic;">Jia you Jia you... Common Common</span>! I couldn't get out of it.<br /><br />And so I took a deep breath, and performed.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Peppers</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A Peck of Pickled Peppers Peter Piper Picked...</span><br /><br />Obviously-- they didn't really understand my tongue twister; I guess my talents weren't really on par tonight. Nonetheless, being the pretty American, I got a round of applause all the same(& a boyfriend proposal). It might be superficial, but at least I have that<span style="font-style: italic;"> lao wai</span> (foreigner) thing going for me!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-2563694239947559922008-08-18T11:02:00.008+08:002008-08-18T21:23:16.718+08:00Black Dragon Pool RevisitedInterviews are still going well--though we have to compete with the rain for the Lijiang Elders' time.<br /><br />I visited Black Dragon Pool again, this time more knowledgeable about its water source. There are several springs where the water pools up out from the mountain. Bowls relax along the rocks, for thirsty passerby to quench their thirst. People come to fill their bottles with the free water.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMET9S1Ow_qvSabzxA8TY94nhBrmgLfPsiAP5xcSRoIIIhoqCYyMSJcIsCRTllLPtMfRCyewIkjl3SS1SLJaALUUX1NovSQaUR3M7Ol1hmB6vn673VhjYymiRp4jK1hlRv9V1fpdvcq0X/s1600-h/DSC07252.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMET9S1Ow_qvSabzxA8TY94nhBrmgLfPsiAP5xcSRoIIIhoqCYyMSJcIsCRTllLPtMfRCyewIkjl3SS1SLJaALUUX1NovSQaUR3M7Ol1hmB6vn673VhjYymiRp4jK1hlRv9V1fpdvcq0X/s200/DSC07252.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235689015389234386" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDPrb8KywOQd1mNNkNZYofw1aQJfUSVeRUb3DiWEPBEhDlgJsEyjgjZGTC3bwcpuj3Pj24O0SU9sEWlFieIyJd_Rh4Yx9K2BzSpGO7Yjc3pU_4TvpkTmI3tzp8QEAcK78cwd4J_C1wVuF0/s1600-h/DSC07254.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDPrb8KywOQd1mNNkNZYofw1aQJfUSVeRUb3DiWEPBEhDlgJsEyjgjZGTC3bwcpuj3Pj24O0SU9sEWlFieIyJd_Rh4Yx9K2BzSpGO7Yjc3pU_4TvpkTmI3tzp8QEAcK78cwd4J_C1wVuF0/s200/DSC07254.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235689019535971282" border="0" /></a><br />I drank some of the water... very delicious! And I don't <span style="font-style: italic;">think</span> I've gotten sick from it, yet...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig9HL17lFc-7GGDQ2hELZoAHZavYGtGvOQ5nhLuxLz0VM80xNTlnkJeYkQnXf-ifUotbXAp6tjHkzwngf94djA5lXM5dxglBtPaLCfDdWb9b8JSunAPfMZlCKBdgwZQXnRgarQafMd6jiE/s1600-h/DSC07297.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig9HL17lFc-7GGDQ2hELZoAHZavYGtGvOQ5nhLuxLz0VM80xNTlnkJeYkQnXf-ifUotbXAp6tjHkzwngf94djA5lXM5dxglBtPaLCfDdWb9b8JSunAPfMZlCKBdgwZQXnRgarQafMd6jiE/s200/DSC07297.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235689024680744754" border="0" /></a>And--here is another picture from our daily interviews. These women were willing to talk to us. There are songs about the water that Naxi people sing... though they were reluctant to sing them for me. I don't blame them-- I'd be embarrassed too!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-4008666244312694632008-08-16T18:12:00.009+08:002008-08-18T09:14:05.537+08:00Little WhirlwindThings are going well... especially because I finally started to interview Naxi Elders!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhhTXY_COFgN_VQeVuvAd6pbIYUAuUtNI9Khk8ApFaaaLQ7RQAq9xNDz3unMGdiZqbp8fX3KDi0EaxOzGA5muRf9E7Xs8SmgSFCv7a2tR42rbWIG2W-e4CUzMhGvcotm7067CbxjtLpLn/s1600-h/DSC07277.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhhTXY_COFgN_VQeVuvAd6pbIYUAuUtNI9Khk8ApFaaaLQ7RQAq9xNDz3unMGdiZqbp8fX3KDi0EaxOzGA5muRf9E7Xs8SmgSFCv7a2tR42rbWIG2W-e4CUzMhGvcotm7067CbxjtLpLn/s200/DSC07277.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235486302167983074" border="0" /></a><br /><br />My friend Lily (Naxi ethnicity and Lijiang area native) is helping me as an interpreter... and it’s a win-win combination. As she runs tours in this area, it's important for her to know local culture and history, so that she may tell accurate information to her tour-guides and guests. On my side, I could do nothing without her, her Naxi+Mandarin+English abilities, and her comforting personality. As she chats it up with the Grandmas and the Grandpas, I feel like I’m not doing any work!<br /><br />As I haven’t had enough time to really reflect on the 2-days worth of interviewing we have done... here are just a few things I've noticed so far.<br /><br />In some ways, this interviewing is easy. Most elder Naxi women wear the traditional blue hat, blue shirt, maroon vest, and black and blue apron over black pants. A melding of mostly blue and black, they then layer this look with the sheepskin cape that protects their back from heavy loads, and that keeps them warm in the cooler temperatures. All in all—very easy to recognize. The elder Naxi men, too, are quite easy to spot. Lounging back on benches, cane in hand, & often with long beards a-pipe a-suckin’, these men are waiting targets for our questioning goals. Most elder people in the old town delight in a relaxing life nowadays. As they love to congregate together to relax and have fun—it’s easy to know where we can find people to interview. In the morning, they stroll around Black Dragon Pool for exercise, and in the afternoon, they dance in Sifang Square… or play cards or sing songs or chat amongst themselves or laugh at the little kids or—as of now—entertain us in stories of their childhoods & water, as we all perch on benches among a big shady tree.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlHGH6289EE7w8n35ETYxnhs_xKhgOBt2YkKG_N_aqke0av4w-afwin62qDVwDP3obRbjwcaWszWxRGcjqQ9KTTCaoU7eLS2HTYRxGVQJYRuUqrX4Lb-asqbgbDGMPBbDduaWaS-VgTYWZ/s1600-h/DSC07279.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlHGH6289EE7w8n35ETYxnhs_xKhgOBt2YkKG_N_aqke0av4w-afwin62qDVwDP3obRbjwcaWszWxRGcjqQ9KTTCaoU7eLS2HTYRxGVQJYRuUqrX4Lb-asqbgbDGMPBbDduaWaS-VgTYWZ/s200/DSC07279.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235486300499021122" border="0" /></a>Oddly enough, the men are much more eager to talk to us, while the women are rather timid about answering questions. While I at first assumed that the boisterousness of Naxi women in society would lead them to giving all the answers—this doesn’t seem to be the case. While just speculation, there seem to be some reasons for this. First, these Naxi women are very modest; many say that they do not know anything worthy of such structured questions. Second, because they spent so much of their lives working hard for their families, they maybe did not spend much time thinking critically about where there water came from, about the history of water in the town, etc. Third, they might be less educated than the men are, and so perhaps less critical or opinionated about the ongoings in this city. (Please remember though, these are just speculation.)<br /><br />This oddity has led to some barriers in interviewing. While I believe Naxi women hold a wealth of knowledge in how they accessed water for their families in the past compared to now… their hesitancy to answer questions permits this information from reaching my ears. Through easy-going liao tianr (chatting), they have no problem divulging these sorts of clues…yet when we politely wonder if we can ask specific questions, or have their permission to record their voices (oh, IRB!), this fluid conservation shuts down, and an ending nod of the head and a referral takes its place.<br /><br />Still, despite barriers, there is one thing in particular that I find stunningly interesting. Through our conservations, we’ve learned that very few of the Elders (aged 60-80+) believe in the Naxi Dongba religion. In the past, Dongba priests taught people to protect their environment through ritual, but after the Cultural Revolution, the number of Dongba priests SEVERELY dropped. Many Elders said that when growing up, their home villages had maybe two or one or none Dongba priests, and this number is continuing to decrease today. More specifically, according to the Dongba Research Institute, there are only 9 true Dongba priests alive today (though I need to fully confirm that number). As true Dongba-ism is passed down father to son—a veritable religious inheritance—the disappearance of the Dongba religion is all too present.<br /><br />So, instead of religion and ritual teaching these current Elders as it had past generations, environmental & water protection was bestowed to them "from generation to generation." And, since today even this “generation to generation” tradition is not being passed down, without religion to back them up, the younger generation no longer has a comparable "code" to live by. All in all: a gradual loss of environmental protection among the Naxi people, (though I'm taking it to extremes here to make my point, of course.)<br /><br />Now, it’s time for me to be a little lame. Ideally, I wanted to draw a diagram to illustrate this idea... but that just doesn't work on Blogger. So, an <span style="font-style: italic;">equation</span> will have to do---<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">If</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A = Passing down Tradition from Generation to Generation</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">B = Dongba Religious Beliefs</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Then</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A + B = Why Past Generations took care of their water</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(-B)</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A = Why Elder Generation takes care of their water</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(-A)</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">ZERO = Why the Younger Generation is not taking care of their water (+ impacts of tourism and immigration of course!)</span><br /><br />TA DA! Problem Solved! …Yeah right. But you can see how without the buttress of religion or tradition, the younger Naxi generation does not easily protect their environment as they had in the past.<br /><br />This makes me wonder though: what do the Elders think they can still teach the younger generation? And, why aren’t they doing it—have they lost hope? Each Grandma/Grandpa we interviewed said, “The older people always told us that…” and to them they listened. And So, my question is:<br /><br />Are they being those same wise older people to their younger inheritors of beautiful Lijiang?Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-65439310744195762182008-08-12T21:42:00.007+08:002008-08-21T12:52:59.091+08:00About TownIn addition to my meetings, other wanderings include continued Calligraphy class, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvaisvMr6qQ77g1xpHs-K36tmoSLPUtqU6_U7IZYWdVyGGIXi64PNKN7dN0r2YlN8KwcnEOD4sGUc1I1lFj0eq7oojQ2zKnKAAI2paYZDISfMwYnYRwkYsoCGVokCXSWFSkmUQMJ1HEuM/s1600-h/DSC07151.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvaisvMr6qQ77g1xpHs-K36tmoSLPUtqU6_U7IZYWdVyGGIXi64PNKN7dN0r2YlN8KwcnEOD4sGUc1I1lFj0eq7oojQ2zKnKAAI2paYZDISfMwYnYRwkYsoCGVokCXSWFSkmUQMJ1HEuM/s200/DSC07151.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233628628564055874" border="0" /></a>hanging out with 11-year-olds on Sundays, being asked to be an English teacher for a girl named Sunny, hanging out with my <span style="font-style: italic;">Meimeis</span> (sisters) at my old guesthouse, conversing in Chinglish with the girls that smoothly run my hostel (...You know, it doesn't seem so odd to me, in this seemingly women-run society, that most of my friends are girls!), and watching…hearing…reading about the Olympics.<br /><br />Calligraphy class—four lessons later—is a great routine to my day. Always at 2pm, I greet the same kids, sit in the same seat, and practice the same characters. I still don’t know what I write, but I’m excited as my hand becomes more composed, the lines less wobbly, the strokes more defined. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoHgw2Kvyq2AhC5J4sBHFY9eA9-x5d0pzzGP3HSXjlRWS17xArkH1lKHWKy2VCZCLY37C442c3Qjb6HPH7NoUU__rlCp33XeRUcgp8n3zajqwcqtfswNDOm2wPk8dr_4GU2PFgHir_eort/s1600-h/DSC07135.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoHgw2Kvyq2AhC5J4sBHFY9eA9-x5d0pzzGP3HSXjlRWS17xArkH1lKHWKy2VCZCLY37C442c3Qjb6HPH7NoUU__rlCp33XeRUcgp8n3zajqwcqtfswNDOm2wPk8dr_4GU2PFgHir_eort/s200/DSC07135.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233628619704642642" border="0" /></a>Always at 4pm, I wonder what we’ll eat in the market—perhaps <span style="font-style: italic;">er quai,</span> a ricey dough fried with spice, or maybe <span style="font-style: italic;">liang fen</span>, fried greyness made from chickpeas and soaked in soy sauce. All are delicious, save perhaps the pig’s-stomach-rice-blood-sausage I weaseled my way out of eating the other day.<br /><br />On Sunday, after my intellectually-stimulating morning at the NGO Green Watershed, I spent the afternoon in a rather lessened “smarty-pants” environment…taking silly pictures and buying pretty stationary with my 11-year-old friend YunYu. Younger people have so much more patience and delight in the simpler things I can communicate; it’s relaxing to hang out with her. Although, I cannot remember the last time I was invited to play with Barbies.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FjC7KjmyhFjgnWJx1Vxedm-Nx56dcwFp2dNtCwY0swdEBTS5E75og_kWIuHru0gOo1hQ3Xx2rgf0fKyWvFCb01IzOpzHirmFpxdZM4_cLWjsDqjEFALMSWsgDAcZTXybIsDFG0rjuCsT/s1600-h/DSC07195.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FjC7KjmyhFjgnWJx1Vxedm-Nx56dcwFp2dNtCwY0swdEBTS5E75og_kWIuHru0gOo1hQ3Xx2rgf0fKyWvFCb01IzOpzHirmFpxdZM4_cLWjsDqjEFALMSWsgDAcZTXybIsDFG0rjuCsT/s200/DSC07195.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233628633520413826" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I politely declined.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0lantazUZTu6oHoDY3mWPOP4xVgX5d2MgE8aGLarOedSmlthCjN8UnK_A-izyWFSrXtfFm7kpCEzrGHLesPZPlE0_BaHYZfspnqRfOwtL7xUf38dcJXgyFgO28SIj288Abj2Y7IA00FW/s1600-h/DSC07176.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0lantazUZTu6oHoDY3mWPOP4xVgX5d2MgE8aGLarOedSmlthCjN8UnK_A-izyWFSrXtfFm7kpCEzrGHLesPZPlE0_BaHYZfspnqRfOwtL7xUf38dcJXgyFgO28SIj288Abj2Y7IA00FW/s200/DSC07176.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233628632024922930" border="0" /></a>When I have time, I stop by my old guesthouse to play with my Meimeis there (the lovely models of the photos you see). Every now and then another little <span style="font-style: italic;">pengyou</span> (friend) is there to play—and so picture-time is of the essence. Often they invite me to a delicious dinner as well: Yunnan potatoes sumptuously covered in chili-sauce, fried chicken, similarly-chilied cold cucumbers, stir-fried mushrooms, tomatoes and eggs… I can hardly resist.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho32xMmuuNHZpl4vXl7xcktzFJiF6dzEq21WECFuCcLkdFIz9cXS4au4uUkc-xDyuAUZb_DxPXowqpyu5tBCiTnF_PxcDl6A7XL2UxiN60Ic0HfBw01yfO36QtYc7z7hMq6EW3FGFSgZD6/s1600-h/DSC07126.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho32xMmuuNHZpl4vXl7xcktzFJiF6dzEq21WECFuCcLkdFIz9cXS4au4uUkc-xDyuAUZb_DxPXowqpyu5tBCiTnF_PxcDl6A7XL2UxiN60Ic0HfBw01yfO36QtYc7z7hMq6EW3FGFSgZD6/s200/DSC07126.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233628622665469938" border="0" /></a>My hostel, Mama Naxi’s, runs like clockwork. (And, it’s the perfect example of tourism mixed with Naxi heritage.) The three girls that work there work HARD; it never seems like they get any rest. 6:30am wake up, make breakfast for the picky foreign guests, explain to them the tourist options of the area, book plane and bus tickets for them, make their beds, do the laundry, clean the toilets, serve the tea, feed the cats, shop at the market, throw out the trash, deal with the foreigners again, prepare dinner, clean dinner, serve the tea, balance the books, tell the foreigners to get to bed, 12:30pm go to sleep themselves. Day in and day out. I asked one such girl—who I believe will soon take over this business, her knowledge of the ins and outs of this place is impeccable—when she gets to <span style="font-style: italic;">xiuxi</span>, or rest. It doesn’t seem like ever, really. And for their sacrifice, they reap in the benefits. Backpackers from all parts of the world flock to their abode… helping Mama Naxi make a wonderful killing.<br /><br />In true Naxi form, it’s the <span style="font-weight: bold;">women</span> that have the brains and stakes in this business. Last night, I sat with aforementioned next-in-line girl and Mama Naxi, as they balanced their account books near midnight. Pens to the paper, fingers to the calculator—both thinking intently. Papa Naxi, on the other hand, was walking back and forth around the common room, sometimes stopping to watch the current Olympic match, sometimes filling up guests’ teacups, sometimes kicking a cat out of the way. At one point, he asked Mama a seemingly inconsequential question, and she <span style="font-weight: bold;">snapped</span> at him—definitely putting him in his place! Naxi women may work hard, but they really do have the money-making glory to call the shots around here.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkbwaqYnfHPbBRpRfzZqmcX7Y5NZXohaowERiSQdJHKYlvse8UjvyZBrxo00CY7IS5gifd5GDuFyfsA06AucLOzHWWP9oWYUQfWFCbSrIlLehH6Jo2RTxLl7oX2sxB2PaoTYBmCNkIUbAA/s1600-h/DSC07070.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkbwaqYnfHPbBRpRfzZqmcX7Y5NZXohaowERiSQdJHKYlvse8UjvyZBrxo00CY7IS5gifd5GDuFyfsA06AucLOzHWWP9oWYUQfWFCbSrIlLehH6Jo2RTxLl7oX2sxB2PaoTYBmCNkIUbAA/s200/DSC07070.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233634195839464962" border="0" /></a>I like it!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrWBO1dSn10RnX0JjnKAS-zGpLIeHPbSDOCmcCFHxDA8iSh1Sw1Bho7ePJVV2Xo_yhGczo9HE9ki9luG_kjA5F3ncKB0xgevtscKPvuTlRzI_NN7JdMqKnp4YOHlQ1_1EqXzYw57-pmGYj/s1600-h/DSC07060.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrWBO1dSn10RnX0JjnKAS-zGpLIeHPbSDOCmcCFHxDA8iSh1Sw1Bho7ePJVV2Xo_yhGczo9HE9ki9luG_kjA5F3ncKB0xgevtscKPvuTlRzI_NN7JdMqKnp4YOHlQ1_1EqXzYw57-pmGYj/s200/DSC07060.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233634139704770594" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimarHXqyj7d2aenNxCusdw2_6IdemHx2zyqZdWeCfKQq7-jhwUGAQhp_Fne9bjy9qiQ3UuYrE7e2kIO8i5Zow6XSXOni48-rVx59nIPejZwyLhmv1npmLR97bN3tuq-g3OisgmXwyyunhF/s1600-h/DSC07062.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimarHXqyj7d2aenNxCusdw2_6IdemHx2zyqZdWeCfKQq7-jhwUGAQhp_Fne9bjy9qiQ3UuYrE7e2kIO8i5Zow6XSXOni48-rVx59nIPejZwyLhmv1npmLR97bN3tuq-g3OisgmXwyyunhF/s200/DSC07062.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233634146795168706" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3U0R59TZTmGydF1li80RPdalglOA6L4UUXD_MIxqPNM9RWyRZa9dZNhne6n1zki3qadahbWvwZ_Hp-drpptEbndBgiR1PBPeL7McPuiQwLQy4DM76W1JWt0-sKTsfqOUZh8inOZBbaVJ3/s1600-h/DSC07065.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3U0R59TZTmGydF1li80RPdalglOA6L4UUXD_MIxqPNM9RWyRZa9dZNhne6n1zki3qadahbWvwZ_Hp-drpptEbndBgiR1PBPeL7McPuiQwLQy4DM76W1JWt0-sKTsfqOUZh8inOZBbaVJ3/s200/DSC07065.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233634166646123906" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />And here... are pictures of making paper with Yana & Dongba store priests (are they real if they sell goods?), LONG overdue:Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-60542001214587615002008-08-11T22:59:00.006+08:002008-08-11T23:13:57.613+08:00A New PlanFYI--<br /><br />In light of my 11 days left in Lijiang (<span style="font-style: italic;">gasp!</span>), and my most recent interviews and meetings, I have slightly warped my research aims & goals while in the <span style="font-style: italic;">Gu Cheng</span>.<br /><br />Basically, I want to better align my research, so that it is different from what has already been done.<br /><br />I will TRY (keyword!) to harness:<br /><ul><li>The STORIES of Naxi Elders (the Significance, History, Use, & Access of their Water)</li><li>The STATUS (the Good and the Bad) of Lijiang's Water Infrastructure (Governmental Department & Water Company implemented)<br /></li><li>The ALARM of upcoming Water Depletion, Glacial Melting, and Water Contamination</li></ul>Wish me luck! The days are ticking way. It's my own Olympic Countdown...Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-27285322329864382242008-08-11T22:10:00.007+08:002008-08-12T22:11:06.346+08:00Visit to the NGO: Green Watershed<span style="font-style: italic;">The weekend was busy. The day after my meeting with the professor, I met with Green Watershed—a non-governmental organization that helped me as a liaison to Lijiang during my grant-proposal-writing-process. Once again, I learned a great deal even though my time at their office was short. I detail my learnings here…</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9R63HXrVubsh-0tnlLP0jooDFkOc9hEDealXx9jU3GoAQUNHmepco7N45gCII9HPhoqlPRjsHoWWPOv_jfsqayvVWvkbf78bJQ3virnyClo-7h29E3GmTC8aZ70LeybhQz5p4wC-qvg_h/s1600-h/DSC07215.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9R63HXrVubsh-0tnlLP0jooDFkOc9hEDealXx9jU3GoAQUNHmepco7N45gCII9HPhoqlPRjsHoWWPOv_jfsqayvVWvkbf78bJQ3virnyClo-7h29E3GmTC8aZ70LeybhQz5p4wC-qvg_h/s200/DSC07215.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233633086196043746" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=zh-CN&u=http://www.greenwatershed.org/&sa=X&oi=translate&resnum=3&ct=result&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dgreen%2Bwatershed%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26hs%3DIqD%26pwst%3D1">Green Watershed</a>, founded by rockstar <a href="http://www.goldmanprize.org/node/443">Yu Xiaogang</a> (a winner of the Goldman Environmental Prize), is located in <a href="http://www.conservation.org/FMG/Articles/Pages/010708.aspx">Lashi Lake</a>, a water source to Lijiang. One of their staff members—a young Social Worker who is just hands-down awesome—accompanied me to their office. After a bumpy one-hour ride, picking up villagers as we made our way (<span style="font-style: italic;">geez</span>, with 70-year old grandpas in the back gripping to the edges of the minibus-turned-pickup-truck), we arrived at the home-converted-office, just on the edges of beautiful Lashi Lake—a watershed on the <a href="http://www.ramsar.org/key_sitelist.htm">Wetlands of International Importance</a> list.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RY1Tu9p9pBHJp64jRuUyfSSYGMPvgcLQOopI8ySlS2iBp3fvzdhHz_EQjkHK3laKIOk_OWpn4C9vTO1Pl2e9RNc1rC4iBge62HXpSfpCFrUBlAfJpR6dRt4W8lfmXxDimS_C7Rmb9XIG/s1600-h/DSC07227.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RY1Tu9p9pBHJp64jRuUyfSSYGMPvgcLQOopI8ySlS2iBp3fvzdhHz_EQjkHK3laKIOk_OWpn4C9vTO1Pl2e9RNc1rC4iBge62HXpSfpCFrUBlAfJpR6dRt4W8lfmXxDimS_C7Rmb9XIG/s200/DSC07227.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233633090642697378" border="0" /></a>Talking with the staff (shown here) was stimulating. All were young, mostly in their twenties, perhaps one in his early thirties. And, most were students or graduates of Social Work. I think it's wonderful how interwoven social work seems to be with environmental issues here. It makes sense—being invested in the needs of communities goes hand and hand with environmental protection, even here in <a href="http://www.wilsoncenter.org/index.cfm?topic_id=1421&fuseaction=topics.links&group_id=150196">China</a>.<br /><br />In a 1998 drought, over 300 cities in China found themselves without water. This alarming situation elevated the water issue in the country, kick-starting a heightened need for watershed management. In 2000, Green Watershed, also known as <span style="font-style: italic;">the Participatory Watershed Management Research and Promotion Center</span>, <a href="http://www.cfr.org/publication/7770/">stepped up to the plate</a>. Eight years later, they continue to <a href="http://www.oxfamamerica.org/partners/green_partner">do</a> amazing capacity-building work, which is utterly community-based.<br /><br />Recently, much of Lashi Lake has been <a href="http://www.grist.org/news/maindish/2006/04/25/nijhuis-yu/">dammed</a>, disrupting the local people’s way of life. To combat this, Green Watershed <a href="http://english.peopledaily.com.cn/200604/25/eng20060425_260982.html">works</a> to restore the residents’ livelihoods in a sustainable manner, and educates them to know their water rights. As the context of Lashi Lake represents a multitude of problems to be learned from, Green Watershed implements a diverse array of pilot projects in the area. They hope to learn from their experimental capacity-building projects, to then replicate them in similar situations across the area and country. Start small, grow bigger, smarter—a wonderful idea.<br /><br />Green Watershed’s programs are multifaceted. They involve Watershed Management Programs, including a Water Resources Protection committee and Fishers’ Association, Microcredit Programs for the women of the area, and Education Programs also for women and children. <a href="http://www.grist.org/news/maindish/2006/04/25/nijhuis-yu/">The programs are participatory and community-based</a>. Over and over again, the staff mentioned the words capacity, capacity, capacity, the local peoples’ voice, voice, voice, the local people making their own decisions, decisions, decisions. They do not assume that each village surrounding the lake is the same; each has their own priorities on what they want to protect. And so, Green Watershed makes sure the local people decide for themselves what they want to do. By increasing the people’s capacity for decision-making, increasing their awareness for local environment protection, and increasing their strength to SPEAK OUT for their personal and environmental rights—Green Watershed comprehensively works at capacity building.<br /><br />One such fabulous example is a pilot program in <a href="http://www.agepp.net/showart.php?lang=en&aid=409&genre=7">Xihu Village</a>. The dam on Lashi Lake flooded their land, forcing them to move uphill for living and cultivation. This uphill land was not as fertile, not as rich as their previous soil. Likewise, by cutting down trees to make way for their new environmental-refugee'd home, their deforestation prompted landslides, disrupting the ecosystem and destroying their new homes.<br /><br />All in all, a lose-lose situation.<br /><br />In response, Green Watershed helped them plant fruit trees along their hills (though the people themselves could decide what fruit trees they wanted to harvest), so that they could make a healthy income while protecting their area from landslides. In doing so, the NGO hopes the local people understand the grand intersection between livelihoods, protection, and development—showing them that they can protect their environment while still making money. It seems to be working pretty well.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">So… where does Lijiang come in?</span><br /><br />In 1994, Lijiang found itself without water—in a big, fat drought. To prevent such a situation from occurring again (<span style="font-style: italic;">common</span>, tourist money depended on it!), they dammed Lashi Lake and diverted water through newly built aqueducts to Lijiang’s Old Town. <span style="font-weight: bold;">THAT</span> was why the people of Lashi Lake had their lake dammed, their homes flooded, their livelihoods changed. <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Because of the tourists</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">.</span> The dam flooded the local Naxi and Yi peoples’ land, forcing them to move uphill and disrupting their way of life. The damming changed the environment, so much so that it changed the people’s interactions with their environment—it changed their livelihoods, their tradition, their <span style="font-style: italic;">culture</span>.<br /><br />So—my tourist self, and the millions of other fellow tourists that frolic here, destroyed the people of Lashi Lake’s way of life. Great.<br /><br />Now that their homes have been flooded, as a result of this booming tourism in Lijiang, people have adjusted their livelihoods—but they are not as productive as they once were. Further, many villagers move to the Old Town, trying to make a living off the booming tourism industry. Young girls come to work in this Disneyland, perhaps relinquishing their education to make money. Life just isn’t the same; Lijiang has profoundly impacted the Lashi Lake Watershed, and all the people living in the surrounding area. Lijiang’s water problems, thus, are <span style="font-weight: bold;">not isolated</span>—they are <span style="font-weight: bold;">wide-reaching</span>, and thus all the more alarming. Once again, the unknown scale of impact due to Lijiang’s actions is frightening. No scientific studies, according to a staff member at Green Watershed, have been done of the Lashi Lake Watershed. How long will the ecosystem continue to survive against these changes? We don’t know. And that is scary.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Tradition and New Livelihoods</span><br /><br />I asked a staff member about the significance of water to the Naxi people. Did Green Watershed take into account this traditional importance of water within their projects? Yes, and no, was the answer. There have been attempts in collecting the stories of the villages’ Elders—most specifically in a really great Children’s Book (that they gave me a copy of!) entitled “<span style="font-style: italic;">I Love Lashi Lake</span>.” The illustrated storybook was written by local elders, detailing traditions and stories for the younger generation. The hope is that children in schools will read the book, and learn about their great inheritance. But, unfortunately, this is really not the case. These stories of elders are not getting passed on very well; the keeping of tradition is very weak. “Isn’t that SAD?” I asked. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Sad</span>, the staff member replied, but <span style="font-weight: bold;">REALISTIC</span>. Despite attempts to preserve traditional culture, it is not remembering the past that will put food on the table, that will prevent their land from continuing to be flooded as Lijiang needs more water. Time must be spent on supporting livelihoods, not revering what once was. Again, the same idea as from Helpful Professor #1: an acknowledgment of culture’s importance, a try at preserving it, and an eventual relinquishment to focus on more strategic ways of moving forward. <span style="font-style: italic;">Sigh</span>. It’s realistic, but still depressing.<br /><br />So, while Helpful Professor #1 said that “<span style="font-style: italic;">perhaps tradition still works in the villages, but not in Lijiang</span>”… I don’t really see this to be the case. Even here in the villages, tradition is getting lost. Even here.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-67486551841108996042008-08-10T20:41:00.007+08:002008-08-11T22:10:25.646+08:00HP#1 continued...Collected and Reflected!<br /><br />I've had some time now to go over my notes and reflect on my meeting with Helpful Professor #1. Here goes...<br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"></span><br />I again lucked out. I had been meaning to call HP1 for a week now, and yet always found some excuse to not do so. However, exactly when I finally did call... he was going to be in Lijiang the next day! What are the odds! On Saturday I met with Mr. 1 to ask questions, investigate his vast knowledge in Naxi culture, and implore him for more contacts & suggestions. We had a lovely chat, and I left scared of how little I know and how much I have to do in order to do something "different". So much has been done to study Lijiang already. It's a hotbed for research, really. Where am I different?<br /><br />A couple of initial cultural things. Perhaps I never mentioned it, but Lijiang and the Naxi culture are famous for their “3-pit well” system. At natural springs throughout the Old City, the Naxi people constructed 3-welled water systems, with strict rules for their use. In the first well, people could drink the water, without fear of contamination (in the past, that is). This water then flowed to the second well, where people washed their vegetables. In the third and final-linked well, people could wash their laundry. Keeping these rules preserved the quality of the Naxi people’s water and was—at one point—respected by all. (Today, those that use the system still respect it… but these people are few in number, and the wells themselves are not very well maintained.) In addition to the 3-pit well system, in the past the day’s drinking water was to be fetched from the canals before 10AM every morning. Only after this regionally-known time, the daily cleanings of vegetables, laundry, etc etc etc could take place. It was taboo to go against such a rule.<br /><br />In the past, rules were imposed by the village committee, usually a collection of “in-the-know” Elders. Education came through Ritual. Through ritual, people learned what to do, what not to do. Unfortunately, today this no longer happens. A lesser spiritual connection among the younger generations, a diminishing number of Dongba priests, and the constant flow of mainstream and outside cultures accounts for this disappearance.<br /><br />The overall idea I got from our meeting: culture is utterly important, but that does not mean much in the reality of things. In Lijiang, the retracing of traditional footsteps will not work alone. The reason? Lijiang has developed too fast, too unchecked. Its population of the Old Town has changed. Out with the Naxi to the New Town, in with the immigrant businessmen to the Old. Traditions are lost in this simple migration—the historic significance of water & its regulations walked out the door. Immigrants are not careful in their new, unfamiliar home. Additionally, the steady flock of tourists makes restaurants and hotels construct innumerable wells, lowering the water table. Increased water demand leads to increased water waste. You can see that there are many reasons why tradition just wont work any more.<br /><br />Last year Black Dragon Pool dried up. (This is supposed to happen about once every 10 years; now it happens about once every 3 years.) The shock was oddly a good thing. It shook the people into realizing what they were doing (if only for a little bit). Remember those prayer flags & incense sticks I saw at the Black Dragon Pool—confused as to why there were there? They were from the earlier drought—people had realized the significance of their water, and had gone to pray for it to return. So, despite everything, religion still has a minor presence, though it might be the type that only happens if something kicks you square in the seat of your pants.<br /><br />All in all, Lijiang is too “past its time” to just rely on returning to traditional ways of doing things. That is naïve & idealistic to think. Rather, you need a mixture of traditional with spiritual with governmental with education with awareness. Government regulations need to restrict the amount of building that happens right against the water source. Scientific studies are needed to figure out what exactly can be allowed for water quality and quantity to be maintained, how many wells Lijiang can build, how far their buildings should be away from the source pool, how <span style="font-weight: bold;">scalable</span> the impact is of even the <span style="font-weight: bold;">most minute actions</span>. This unknown scale is, too me, the most <span style="font-style: italic;">alarming</span>.<br /><br />What is needed, really, is a new ethic. You cannot just tell people to believe the religious side, and you also cannot just impose harsh government (or even economic)-imposed rules. People have to follow more of a moral code for this to really have effect. And yet, that moral ethic cannot be imposed either. So what do you do?<br /><br />I don’t know.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-64489026720442354692008-08-09T21:40:00.008+08:002008-08-09T22:17:48.152+08:00HP #1As I begin my more in-depth interviews, I think I should maybe stop revealing personal names and resort to more "professional" allocations--<br /><br />such as Helpful Professor #1, Cute Grandma #2, Government Official #3.<br /><br />Today-- I had an amazing meeting with Helpful Professor #1. I'll sort out the details of what I learned for you later (though I do know now that <a href="http://travel.nytimes.com/2006/11/19/travel/tmagazine/19timeless.html"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Edward Norton</span></a>'s father does consultation work here, and the famed actor himself has made many a trip to enjoy Lijiang's beauty.) Prime info first, huh?<br /><br />HP#1's experience & wealth of knowledge made my head spin... making me realize how little I know, and how much more time I want to put towards this "investigation." I'm one small little thought in the sea of this indigenous knowledge & water rights concept-- and I'm trying to figure out how my own research (or what I'll make of it) will even mater.<br /><br />More, much more, later.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-58857479349011638962008-08-09T17:20:00.013+08:002008-08-12T22:25:04.899+08:0008.08.08I wasn't even in Beijing, but the excitement was huge. On 08.08.08 morning, as I sat drinking my Nescafe & writing some professorial emails, I got bumped out of my seat to a fellow hostel guest with a huge TV in his hands. "Will you move please? I want to watch the <span style="font-style: italic;">Au Yun Hui</span> (Olympic Games)!" It wasn't even 10AM... over 12 hours to go.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2aVfNUcfKsu_ajnjGFubvMtBpKK-QF3qErtfWKMdp9xCDemJj6DtPAkC2n5olw6U688uF-f2jAG9v67XEsubYrQn8B2UsbyZs_V4f6p3kpIf2VKbNCR1dRzYbXaiunnLxM6F8Gg-Yjh9B/s1600-h/DSC07203.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2aVfNUcfKsu_ajnjGFubvMtBpKK-QF3qErtfWKMdp9xCDemJj6DtPAkC2n5olw6U688uF-f2jAG9v67XEsubYrQn8B2UsbyZs_V4f6p3kpIf2VKbNCR1dRzYbXaiunnLxM6F8Gg-Yjh9B/s200/DSC07203.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233636918718041394" border="0" /></a>As the sky grew darker, TV channels changed, faces looked hurried, & transient tourists slowly migrated to Lijiang Old Town's main screen in the central square. Red flags flew back and forth as people chanted a Chinese wallop of excitement. And of course, in the background, Naxi grammies were still enjoying their evening circle dance--their stereo-blasted local music competing with the main screen's Olympiad tunes.<br /><br />The Oohs and Ahhs were typical of any brilliant light-display event (who knows how much energy went into those spectacular Opening Ceremony light shows, holy cow!) but the fervor & excitement was very particular that night. <span style="font-style: italic;">Their</span> country was hosting the Olympic Games. The pride was wonderfully pervading.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2LAaC-wZLyJkj0c357ConlP5ItuUUIubCoxjefaP9QNlvQpzvkmqEIVIPEusU4uVh5z5YcGpqrDOAfOZtAGu3F3rNlq8cZ0YYJ8U4eZsVJ-yKxWrNY9F0Hdp8y4FVyutV2TJbfui2mdLJ/s1600-h/DSC07210.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2LAaC-wZLyJkj0c357ConlP5ItuUUIubCoxjefaP9QNlvQpzvkmqEIVIPEusU4uVh5z5YcGpqrDOAfOZtAGu3F3rNlq8cZ0YYJ8U4eZsVJ-yKxWrNY9F0Hdp8y4FVyutV2TJbfui2mdLJ/s200/DSC07210.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233636922300814274" border="0" /></a>After about thirty minutes of the extravaganza, I walked away from the bright lights & cheering to meet up with my friend Marie, who I had run into by accident on Lijiang's busy streets. An old friend from a student leaders conference I attended in Taiwan last October-- thanks NU's <a href="http://www.mycge.org/">Center for Global Engagement</a> & <a href="http://osa.nccu.edu.tw/%7Eactivity/ICSL/agenda.php">National Chengchi University</a>!-- Marie and I agreed that it really was a small world. Since she had Olympics-protesting leanings, we ignored about an hour's worth of the 4-hour ceremony to drink some <a href="http://www.dalibeer.com/">Dali beer</a> in a non-<span style="font-style: italic;">lao wai</span> (foreigner) restaurant.<br /><br />After saying goodbye to my friend, I walked down the empty streets to my Mama Naxi's hostel. It was evident that the Games were finally in full swing--everyone was tuned in to watch. As I skirted over the smooth cobblestones of my little Lijiang Gu Cheng, utterly in China, China, China... the sound of bagpipes wafted through the air, trailing me no matter which way I turned. How very odd and un-China-like this music was, despite my very China-like setting! I slowly found myself wondering a very scholarly & globalization-reflecting question: <span style="font-style: italic;">Why on Earth did the Beijing Olympic procession of athletes have constant <span style="font-weight: bold;">Scottish bagpipes</span> playing? </span><br /><br />Just kidding, really. About the question.<br /><br />As I walked home, the multitude of Chinese TV-sets broadcasting Western tunes showed that on this night, without a doubt, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Olympic pride was on high.</span>Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-80715523927526117442008-08-07T21:22:00.004+08:002008-08-08T10:51:29.828+08:00Today is Chinese Valentine's DayAnd Today, a failed meeting started my morning.<br /><br />I was summoned to The Nature Center to meet with two people this morning, only to have the meeting canceled upon my arrival! No problems though, I reorganized myself with a morning snack of Naxi baba.<br /><br />This afternoon, I once again trekked over to my <span style="font-style: italic;">Mao Bi Xie XueXiao</span> (Calligraphy School) to join the kids in daily practice. I sat with my 2 new friends, and was utterly doted upon. The teacher calligraphed me the most beautiful rendition of a postal address I've ever seen, a little girl gave me a sign with "Beijing 2008 Olympics" in her hand-drawn Chinese & Dongba characters, and police officers, taking a break from the long work day, came in to sit and stare at my scribble-scrabble. The <span style="font-style: italic;">lao shi</span> watched while take puffs out of his long pipe every now and then (PS: this tobacco pipe is as big as a 5-year-old kid.)<br /><br />As I sat near the window of the school, I myself became a spectacle. Just as I, as a tourist, would look at these kids doing calligraphy and "oohh and ahhh" at the Chinese-y ness of it all-- I get the same treatment. Intrepid Chinese tourists, venturing from the shopping streets to this lesser populated part of town, poke their heads in to stare at my hand. All ask-- does she even know what she's writing? Answer is mostly a big NO. (Though I do have a reaffirmed interest in learning to write Chinese characters now.) It's a little nerve-racking to get stared at, but it makes you focus all the more.<br /><br />After class, two new young classmates--a Naxi and Tibetan girl--took me into the market to treat me to all the wonders of Lijiang food. They are THRILLED to take me to eat (again, the Chinese hospitality) and bounced out of their chairs when I said I'd still be here for 2 weeks. "Just think of all the things you can eat!" they oozed. The girls are wonderful. So, I guess, in addition to my old Naxi grandma friends in their 80s, I have friends in their 10s and 11s and 12s. They speak in rapid motion, never really slowing down to make sure I understand. Nonetheless, their patience is dumbfounding; they don't mind repeating things maybe once, twice, thrice. I'm lucky they're so outgoing and kind. And, I wonder what we'll eat tomorrow.<br /><br />Dinner was spent with friends I had made at my old hotel. I chatted with my Meimei and tried to console her in her love turmoil. Today is Lover's Day--Chinese Valentine's Day--and a suitor of 2 years tried ONCE AGAIN to woo her. Oh, the agony! She moaned (in the typical girly Chinese melodramatic way), asking me to tell her what to do. Red roses, a day at the park where he showered her with gifts... what's a girl to do?<br /><br />Back at my own hostel, I asked the owner--Mama Naxi--about water here in Lijiang. She shed new light on my current knowledge... apparently, even 5 years ago, the water in the canals was warm. You could bathe in the canals even on a winter morning and not get cold. However, now this is not the case. Why? Today, Lijiang's water comes from Black Dragon Pool AND Baisha village. Half and Half. The water from Baisha village comes from the Snow Mountain, the water from <span style="font-style: italic;">Heilongtan</span> (Black Dragon Pool) is from its own primary spring. This mixing dilutes the warmth of the spring.<br /><br />30 years ago, you could drink the canal water, Mama Naxi says. (And this is from experience--she's lived in the Old Town for over thirty years.) The throws of tourism have dirtied Lijiang's water; it is no longer the same. Now, no one drinks the canal water. Rather, it comes to them through pipes... though still from Black Dragon Pool (or at least, that's what I think she said). [But, I still want to know, how is the Black Dragon Pool water cleaned?! It was so dirty when I saw it! Oh my, my gums & teeth are depending on it!]<br /><br />Another clue from Mama Naxi: in 1983, all the water in the canals dried up--even from the Black Dragon Pool source. Some smart & indignant <span style="font-style: italic;">Lao Mama Naxi</span> (Old Naxi Mamas) went to "complain" & "plead" (though these are my words) with the source... and just like that, the water started to flow again. I will have to find these Old Naxi Mamas and ask what they did: who did they talk to & what did they say to warrant the spring to provide water again? Unfortunately, my Mama Naxi, the hostel owner, doesn't know what they said. Most Naxi people, she tells me, don't know about Dongba culture. It's separated, not common knowledge. I wonder, then, how a seemingly "elitist" belief--of water protection, love in the Shu Spirits--translates into common practice.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-35896531585905059002008-08-06T20:10:00.011+08:002008-08-07T14:30:07.515+08:00Slow but ComfortablePhewwwww. Another exhaustive 2 days!<br /><br />Yesterday I again tried to meet up with my Naxi lunchdate friends... to no success. I slurped my noodles alone, chatting on and off with a man who wanted to show me "around town."<br /><br />On my walk back, I poked my head into the Calligraphy School once again. The Lao Shi ushered me in, plopped me down at my own desk, gave me a <span style="font-style: italic;">mao bi</span> (brush), a piece of paper, and put me to work. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53JJKYMdXRc5AqJkCM7AAIK-hQFjjspOXlkjMzLZP_CGnwZinsPsElhQtGgADIDXchgdiDS7OeGxrrv2_bCcCb-U_q_nnGCvTyDbTcyYHY-KY-aEN4xOVV27QzEYGWWexmrQ3v-W3eoF0/s1600-h/DSC07056.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53JJKYMdXRc5AqJkCM7AAIK-hQFjjspOXlkjMzLZP_CGnwZinsPsElhQtGgADIDXchgdiDS7OeGxrrv2_bCcCb-U_q_nnGCvTyDbTcyYHY-KY-aEN4xOVV27QzEYGWWexmrQ3v-W3eoF0/s200/DSC07056.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231642673525567138" border="0" /></a> While my strokes against the paper looked as perfect and at home as a dog's muddy pawprints on white carpet, it was exciting to sit in the classroom, with my new 10-, 11-, & 12-year-old classmates. As I tried my best to copy my teacher's red instructive marks, his top <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioBDxwWzA-VfErWMPEnRK8vZXQNapD9Qo-0BKiDtkofj-YoYNj_2_6MWpS23iLDW2ubbrcCsBOYV7ZkAtqQ28XSblL54_XzOJkZyLBAZwpX9NeH2OHwfVqtHEUJa_NUnTbnCYf50SKWBHJ/s1600-h/DSC07057.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioBDxwWzA-VfErWMPEnRK8vZXQNapD9Qo-0BKiDtkofj-YoYNj_2_6MWpS23iLDW2ubbrcCsBOYV7ZkAtqQ28XSblL54_XzOJkZyLBAZwpX9NeH2OHwfVqtHEUJa_NUnTbnCYf50SKWBHJ/s200/DSC07057.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231642678933242306" border="0" /></a>2 students (talkative & helpful girls of course!) always made sure to get me back on track when my hand fell astray. By the end of the lesson, my teacher was teaching me the characters for "water canal," and explained that in addition to calligraphy, his profession was <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surveying">surveying</a> in Lijiang's Old Town. Perfect! Perhaps, in addition to his <span style="font-style: italic;">Shu Fa</span> (Calligraphy) talent he knows more about the rough geographical ups and downs of this little city.<br /><br />Today, I spent the day with my new friend Yana, volunteer at The Nature Conservancy's Nature Center, sophomore student in Environmental Science, and Lijiang resident of Naxi descent. I am so lucky to have met Yana. Not only is she kind, patient, (& speaks good English!), but she studies environmental science because she wants to come back to Lijiang and help make their environment more sustainable, healthier, better. She also wants to study the Naxi Dongba culture that she claims heritage to. (Perhaps the perfect solution for an interpreter? I asked her to help me, and she's excited!)<br /><br />Interestingly, Yana is only half Naxi. Her father is Naxi, her mother is not. And yet, because it is her FATHER who is Naxi---she calls herself Naxi. (Unlike Louis, the student at the Dongba Cultural Center, who is not Naxi because his mother is Naxi.) In typical Chinese style, Yana fed me until I EXPLODED. We ate rice cakes <span style="font-style: italic;">in preparation of</span> another breakfast feast: fire-baked baba (like a big fat pita), chickpea jelly (a spicy grey goop--pretty delicious actually), and stir-fried potatoes with pickled cabbage. Let's just say that it hurt to walk... especially since we were walking to our next food destination! This Chinese hospitality always seems to be the same, whether in Taiwan, Hong Kong, & the Mainland, or with my aunts in Canada & with my mom at Home... it's always eat! eat! eat! These are my kind of people.<br /><br />In addition to popping our heads into Lijiang's famous stores, we made paper with Dongba priests (in a tourist shop of course), and asked the meaning of the Dongba wheel of life, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGRKnJvNWonnmqh0ygA-4kdec2qbshLWagAu-MdWTkLhsQ2br37XFKOqhRUGRfH-YqYU6sGdVX2ODlKekLNKnXTNcV3B3kvZ6BFNnlnTfJX42JGY_bi2_KRbPD7OA3uQkG8R2CdV1oEuKC/s1600-h/P7223856.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGRKnJvNWonnmqh0ygA-4kdec2qbshLWagAu-MdWTkLhsQ2br37XFKOqhRUGRfH-YqYU6sGdVX2ODlKekLNKnXTNcV3B3kvZ6BFNnlnTfJX42JGY_bi2_KRbPD7OA3uQkG8R2CdV1oEuKC/s200/P7223856.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231659194628705938" border="0" /></a>which is centered around a frog. In Dongba legend, the frog (<span style="font-style: italic;">qing wa</span>) was the first being to "jump" into life, and since then represents good luck and harmony. To be honest, Yana did not even know the meaning--despite being Naxi herself! You can see how much is being lost as generations evolve, though this has sadly been true in history since... well... forever. As Yana does not look Naxi, many people even mistake her for a tourist, completely sidestepping the fact that she is from Lijiang. Additionally, because she cannot speak the Naxi language, people make fun of her for not taking advantage of her special cultural heritage (my own dis-knowledge of Cantonese feels for her). She wants to learn though, hoping to study Dongba scripture after university.<br /><br />After paper making, we took a cab to Shu He town, about 10 minutes away. Naxi people lived here before they made their way to Lijiang... the buildings and outline of Shu He's Old Town looks the same, similarly crisscrossed with gorgeous canals. However, the water here, unlike Lijiang, is crystal clear. It does not hold the trash, mud, and other crusty pipes that Lijiang's canals do. Yana says that Lijiang's canals used to looked like this--refreshingly clean--before the tourists came.<br /><br />You can see why the canals system worked so well: Water right to your doorstep. Hassle-free, always clean, in with the good and out with the bad. If you live here, you appreciate it--you keep it clean. Tourists don't feel such things. As their transient hands throw food remnants, cigarette butts, and toilet paper into the seeping flow: Goodbye clean water.<br /><br />I was mistaken-- people do not drink the water from Lijiang's canals anymore. Instead, drinking water comes from water company-provided pipes (or from small wells) and goes on to treatment plants. The canal water, however, still gets diverted from the Jade River, provides a flow where people can wash themselves, their vegetables, their clothes, & their streets in, and then shoots its now contaminated-self back to the river. I wonder if any cleaning happens before the canals' muddy muck rejoins the river. Yana also pointed out the cleaning system in Sifang Square, the main meeting space of the Old Town (and home to the old Marketplace years past). In the morning--though not during the rainy season--wooden planks are placed in the square's main canal, blocking the flow and forcing water through a byway into the square, cleaning the streets. The diligence locals have in keeping their streets clean is amazing; Lijiang really is a tidy place.<br /><br />As you can see: my learning is slow, but comfortable. Tomorrow restarts the chatting, making friends, & feeling my way through who knows what--so that I can learn more of what I set out to! (And now, I can make friends with the hope of returning with Yana, my new <span style="font-style: italic;">guanxi</span>.)Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-24044193868005890742008-08-04T19:42:00.006+08:002008-12-10T23:36:59.207+08:0055, 63, 71, 82... the ages of my new Naxi friendsThe past couple days have been a wonderful reintroduction into Lijiang after my 4 day hiatus. Returning to my slowly familiar town, I was more chatty, talkative, inquisitive.<br /><br />It’s interesting.<br /><br />Hanging out with foreigners for four days actually made my Chinese better. I became the translator for the gang, and they oddly trusted me… maybe because I pretended to understand every time people spoke to me, maybe because my Chinese really is progressing-- I think the former: my Chinese really is atrocious. Nevertheless, by traveling around with others relying on me, I had to talk more, be more boisterous, more confident. And it worked.<br /><br />On Sunday, with Shani, my friend from Israel, I went into a Calligraphy school in Lijiang's painting square. The <span style="font-style: italic;">lao shi </span>(teacher) was so kind, rushing around his studio showing me pictures of the other foreigners he has taught, patiently yet excitedly showing us how to paint characters. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6Bf4cyvSKWIC4Mp2n4L3mbm16XKNZTmXTkriQrbvU5a5mTIjoZgbmTxRH1jgEYVm2GqY1HIKEoUsIXMvIv2pj4cyUEMuM5yCVX_faZVlEkFMsVc3o5QBnNBQSHZFQh2NA_tSSOtgJGyP/s1600-h/paint2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6Bf4cyvSKWIC4Mp2n4L3mbm16XKNZTmXTkriQrbvU5a5mTIjoZgbmTxRH1jgEYVm2GqY1HIKEoUsIXMvIv2pj4cyUEMuM5yCVX_faZVlEkFMsVc3o5QBnNBQSHZFQh2NA_tSSOtgJGyP/s200/paint2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230634523309424482" border="0" /></a>Despite my multiple tries at “calligraphy” as a kid in Chinese class (this involved writing one & two & three over and over again, interspersed with drawing disease-struck bamboo & ladybugs), I had no idea that the starting element to calligraphy are the eight quadrants. Eight blank and lonely quadrants. A thin paper sheet with squares is used to practice on—each square is divided into four more squares, and each quarter square becomes two triangles… voila! 8 triangular quadrants. The goal is to imitate a given character, “<span style="font-style: italic;">cong yi dao wu</span>” (from the first to the fifth quadrant), “<span style="font-style: italic;">cong ba dao er</span>” (from the eighth to the second) and so on, following an already-painted character’s strokes. (Sound confusing? I'm even skipping the hardest part—learning how to hold the brush perfectly vertical and only move your wrist!) I asked to take lessons from him each morning.<br /><br />After our visit to the painting school, Shani and I went to the Zhouyi Market, oddly untouched by other tourists, and sat down to an intriguing lunch in a little darkened hole across from the market's fish area. As we slurped our sour & oily noodles, I made friends with the Naxi women sitting there. They taught me to say things in Naxi language, such as:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Do zey </span>= Hello<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Bu ga muo </span>= Goodbye<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Gyei </span>= Water<br /></div><br />That is, if I heard them correctly. I learned the most important words, huh?<br /><br />The women were sweet, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX3q6DqYeEnJDuVkvhI-xAyKYaOWHXi7FfEJCR12AYtTOFqB5BesjRaT8WgR7SDJ6vCL42JBzTobqLT1a_QOkfLQv4kv9JrPw9teG9H8eRYCGQ1_DB42b3XSXiZM_LG_lI3hrYPuxER7Si/s1600-h/naxilunch1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX3q6DqYeEnJDuVkvhI-xAyKYaOWHXi7FfEJCR12AYtTOFqB5BesjRaT8WgR7SDJ6vCL42JBzTobqLT1a_QOkfLQv4kv9JrPw9teG9H8eRYCGQ1_DB42b3XSXiZM_LG_lI3hrYPuxER7Si/s200/naxilunch1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230634528601504466" border="0" /></a>laughing at us, chatting us up, continuing their banter to my nodding but un-understanding head. One woman (was her name <span style="font-style: italic;">Hou si hua</span>?) lived in Lashi Lake, a gorgeous lake just outside of the city; she offered to take me there. And the other woman (maybe her name was <span style="font-style: italic;">Heuh Chueh Xiao</span>?) and I made a lunch date for the next day. When she saw us again in the market, she wrapped my hand around her shoulder as we took this picture:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4VHSv0mi_6vSMaRWV6oK1DVjPHvnqSD0YHjYnbI2Jar5eq4lEwURtAfucuqoes0I0fECUzKE7DVZbkon06mulMcEqMo37nHW5ssUNpLShDiC5STn6KSLsLtyAZwQrvHOWo_LoqVMPHpU/s1600-h/naxilunch2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4VHSv0mi_6vSMaRWV6oK1DVjPHvnqSD0YHjYnbI2Jar5eq4lEwURtAfucuqoes0I0fECUzKE7DVZbkon06mulMcEqMo37nHW5ssUNpLShDiC5STn6KSLsLtyAZwQrvHOWo_LoqVMPHpU/s200/naxilunch2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230634522806462722" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Ahhh, I finally made Naxi friends! It was invigorating.<br /><br />On Tuesday, I went back to meet my friends for Lunch. Unfortunately, when I arrived, the cook told me they had just left, so I left plans for a later meeting. As I was leaving the market, buying some lychees and plums, I struck up conservation with the women selling fruit. I’ve made fun of my half-Asianness before, but I really think it helps people get comfortable with me (and maybe because I don’t walk around with a huge pointed camera!) Their questions about where I am from, bets if I am Chinese, response when I answer that “Yes, <span style="font-style: italic;">wo mama shi Xianggang ren</span>” (my mother is from Hong Kong), all seem to show a general interest in me. They are just as curious about my background and what it represents, as I am curious about theirs. It’s mutual, and I like it.<br /><br />As I was buying my lychees and plums, a smiley woman came up to me—friends of the fruit seller. Naxi women are very comfortable, even proud, of their age. Without even me asking, the fruit seller proudly stated, “I am 55, she is 71” with smiles and slaps to the knee. The 71-year-old, elegant in her stripey-green Converse sneakers and blue felt vest, with the traditional Naxi sheepskin cape & navy blue hat, patted me on the shoulder, saying “I am going to Si Fang Square to Dance. Come, I’ll take you.” Without waiting to see my response, she walked off, expecting me to follow. And follow I did… why miss this invitation! She sped through the streets, all maybe 85 pounds of her, taking me through back alleys and over bridges so much my head spun. I pummeled her with questions, and she just laughed at me, offering choice answers. She said she danced everyday, both at 9 in the morning, and at 2 in the afternoon. She also said she was from the Mu family (which I’m assuming is the same ancient ruling family of Lijiang). When we passed the Mu Family Palace on our walk, I asked if her Mu was the same Mu… she nodded, laughed, and pounded on a pillar. Perhaps that means yes?<br /><br />When we entered the main square, she deposited me on an umbrella-ed bench, next to another elder Naxi woman. My dancer friend took her place across from us, along with her other sun-capped fellow dancers. Other Naxi elders were slowly flocking in, also coming to sit on the benches, or on stools in little circles. And of course, as always, other tourists—Chinese, Western, young, and old—waddled through the square. My bench partner was a sweet 82-year-old woman (I do believe that was the first thing she told me, and defiantly so). Her ears were droopy with the traditional silver hoop earrings of Naxi women, but with a green jade stone also linked around each hoop. (I later found out that this decoration marks that a woman is over 80-years-old, another symbol of pride in a woman’s age.) Through her two cute teeth she mumbled in Chinese to me; while I believe she spoke Mandarin, there was no way I could understand her accent. Still, we bonded over my non-pierced ears and her pierced ones, her Naxi-style crinkled skirt and my dirty blue jeans, and my offered lychees & sweet plums. I thought about my own Chinese grandmother—similar in age—and compared their similar yet utterly different crudely-structured life stories in my head.<br /><br />Something else interesting I saw? Rather than just throwing the bits of lychee skin and seeds onto the ground, my new two-tooth-full friend held them in her hand. Only when the woman sweeping the streets came around, did she throw the trash away—into the woman’s mobile dustbin. How I wanted to ask her why she did this: why did she not litter, why did she try to keep her city clean? What were her thoughts about the water canal just 5 feet away, and how had it provided for her family for her 80 plus years? What did she think about these tourists when they started to filter into her hometown? And—did she even think about these sorts of things, or take them for granted?<br /><br />These questions, this hesitancy, this barrier… this is where I reach the lower limit of my Chinese skills, and the maximum limit of my frustrations. I have been able to get comfortable with so many people here… becoming friendly with them, getting to know them, feeling trusted by them and vice versa (or at least I hope), sharing and receiving with them as they do with me… but then my language skills falter and I cannot find out what I hope to. How easy it would be if this was in English! Or, even in French! I’m not asking for much, just slightly deeper comprehension—but that seems months, even a year away. I am stuck with the skills that I have (and yet thankful that I have at least some).<br /><br />The problem is, though: having an interpreter would not be the same. The otherwise-helpful sidekick companion would make things too structured, uncomfortable, artificial. With an interpreter, someone unfamiliar beside me, I feel people would not tell me things. A couple I met, students from Beijing’s best university: Tsinghua University, told me how lucky I was to do a student project abroad. They say that this sort of thing never happens in China, the idea is not known; no wonder people are confused when I say I’m doing a project here. While I could easily find an interpreter through my many connections, I feel that their aid would be ultimately futile. I’ve learned from my mistakes, too. In Cameroon, when I did this sort of project, I went from meeting to meeting, overwhelmed with formalities but in the end not getting anything worthwhile. I didn’t learn, just copied, and what is the use of that? What is the use of formalities and methodology when you don’t have the friendly connection & sharing first?<br /><br />My proposed plan of visiting and interviewing the city’s Water Authority, and methodologically interviewing local Naxi people—farmers, shop keepers, restaurant workers, hotel owners alike—now seems a farce, almost insignificant. Such a proposed project would be for a later date, after my Chinese comprehension has gotten better, after my own familiarity with the people and the city had reached a comfortable plateau… perhaps after two months or more. And there is not enough time for that. So I have to decide—what is better? Methodological yet shallow data, or fuller yet more spontaneous and haphazard learning? As this is a student project—prone to obstacles, new pursuits, and limited knowledge, yet filled with a wealth of new learning and excitement—I am hopeful that my professors and grant-givers will forgive me! The scale of the project that I proposed, while I once felt doable, is seeming more and more like a long-term undertaking. So--I’ll just do the best I can now, to meet everyone and learn everything I can, in my own way… and while I have the time. Maybe this week I'll just meet people. Next week, I'll ask the questions.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-62399643108994318462008-08-04T12:19:00.013+08:002008-12-10T23:37:02.153+08:00Tiger Leaping Gorge & Shangri-LaI've just returned back to Lijiang from my trek to Tiger Leaping Gorge, home of the Jinsha River (tributary to the Yangtze river), the "mother" of Naxi culture. What an amazing couple of days.<br /><br />I've wanted to see Tiger Leaping Gorge for a long time, both for the amazing views, significance of water to the area, and the threat of a dam being constructed in a few years. I have always been mystified by the famous brush paintings of historic China. The deep black ink against the thin rice paper, of rough, rugged, yet still delicate mountains. Further, my childhood fascination with the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sun_Wukong">Monkey King</a> story (of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Journey_to_the_West"><span style="font-style: italic;">Journey to the West</span></a>, and ancient Chinese favorite) resonated with this exciting climb through the hills. In fact, Journey to the West itself is a reflection of the transfer of Buddhism between India and China: the transmission of ideas flowing through these very mountains... just like Lijiang's own history. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDydeR-_zKYGAku5YZDW9jRsdhej77slqGHGxzSH_KoC2KmPTacMlFZt9nN7bHGGRYY9GyJxy87mxRLk2xmaBKVTbMk-zzLTnY7vnIOjUJA1s_y-K2LiVvsW8sjBErqTl-9Uv3H3N2q8gV/s1600-h/14bz.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDydeR-_zKYGAku5YZDW9jRsdhej77slqGHGxzSH_KoC2KmPTacMlFZt9nN7bHGGRYY9GyJxy87mxRLk2xmaBKVTbMk-zzLTnY7vnIOjUJA1s_y-K2LiVvsW8sjBErqTl-9Uv3H3N2q8gV/s200/14bz.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230640869120305842" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I met Nafsika, Nancy from Greece, at a cafe I typically frequent (quiet, delicious tea, great place to work; in fact, people know I come here so often they leave me messages at the counter, knowing that the note will get to me). Nancy was heading out to Tiger Leaping Gorge alone, and I seized the opportunity to go with her. I really am so lucky so have met her-- she even invited me to her birthday celebration the following day. Little did I know that meeting Nancy introduced me to the world of the "Lonely Planet Backpacker," the clump of friendly yet diverse travelers that make the Chinese landscape their romping playground. At first I was skeptical of hanging out with "foreigners"--but I'm so glad I made the decision to go.<br /><br />Shani, Liat, and Yarden from Israel, Nancy from Greece, Lincoln from Australia, and Moira, Martin, Guillame, Charline, and Gwennole from France became instant friends. What I love about being abroad is all the different people you meet, who are also out of their own context. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkqsvAGyrUww5cBbFKWTh81cnNS2r79QNA3PW2HsYq2MoKNsKhSSr9L6mPC2N7ySxL7mEDQJFysC-qF3-usLqP9Uv0ejV-RiAZo1lhfSuP4DuudWsjUFcoxk3aLzi1t6z3wiSKHzHBjLM/s1600-h/3bz.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkqsvAGyrUww5cBbFKWTh81cnNS2r79QNA3PW2HsYq2MoKNsKhSSr9L6mPC2N7ySxL7mEDQJFysC-qF3-usLqP9Uv0ejV-RiAZo1lhfSuP4DuudWsjUFcoxk3aLzi1t6z3wiSKHzHBjLM/s200/3bz.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230637063365989474" border="0" /></a>All are eager to laugh, share, and learn. We took a minibus from Lijiang to Qiaotou, the entrance to the gorge. Early in the afternoon, we started our hike in the sun, up hills, along fields, across rocky surfaces, to the top of a mountain. 3 hours later, we were looking down: the entrance of the green gorge. The next 5 hours were blissful. Careening rocky surfaces, little waterfalls, beautiful flowers, villages & crickets here and there.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhovdNmvQmHVJEWAacvlP9ZU3OCHhACmE7jqIPIZH6C7O1S_SnnZSA2uK04lLfZ-yCNtQFg69sOknNHQ-K_cIsuhSFaT7BeJtHxz8HYb314utBSAbdx8T9nc9oWGc1w5FWyhW4kCS2ve7cs/s1600-h/14az.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhovdNmvQmHVJEWAacvlP9ZU3OCHhACmE7jqIPIZH6C7O1S_SnnZSA2uK04lLfZ-yCNtQFg69sOknNHQ-K_cIsuhSFaT7BeJtHxz8HYb314utBSAbdx8T9nc9oWGc1w5FWyhW4kCS2ve7cs/s200/14az.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230640867770720978" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizHf9VIoOdlotOp1x8Job6R0UMEGq8eXh1w_YqJga4KUkXA7WnPQQCfp2z_P4ljpMDhrOncVVRCt-v6qvLK7WAWKgvfOUlX_rsGIuLBIhmpGBDg8enZiqLrEAufmR9qhwfNcgSblTWStwP/s1600-h/7gz.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizHf9VIoOdlotOp1x8Job6R0UMEGq8eXh1w_YqJga4KUkXA7WnPQQCfp2z_P4ljpMDhrOncVVRCt-v6qvLK7WAWKgvfOUlX_rsGIuLBIhmpGBDg8enZiqLrEAufmR9qhwfNcgSblTWStwP/s200/7gz.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230637101503488978" border="0" /></a>Along the rocky cliffs, I could even catch a glimpse of their water system here. Look, canals!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2MjS-mmoCS0VKZJv48AFIcsfl55A1gwnUUtDGfa2fasEUWnhofAoXi_eTwCp-GZq-cVNR7Z_hdByDdLUuoQZzYWfBTDPrGO4elRft-pWSUyJJi3aDKKRLBhK9coJcfaaRAzNBq4X5xnRL/s1600-h/7fz.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2MjS-mmoCS0VKZJv48AFIcsfl55A1gwnUUtDGfa2fasEUWnhofAoXi_eTwCp-GZq-cVNR7Z_hdByDdLUuoQZzYWfBTDPrGO4elRft-pWSUyJJi3aDKKRLBhK9coJcfaaRAzNBq4X5xnRL/s200/7fz.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230637094865474578" border="0" /></a> We stayed at Halfway House, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJnrBzcOYmkg4xoXQV12Jis0CxnPcgGgrqBxpbdqrNPIW2tJAKlU45SPoL3y1CMTeOEKkzMyJnmIbJ9aMx9sqn8Vs7IZn91MboC4YHTt2t-rmnZiU_pAvT7f5PT1tbDP5Sy-PW8ixCCeP/s1600-h/13az.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJnrBzcOYmkg4xoXQV12Jis0CxnPcgGgrqBxpbdqrNPIW2tJAKlU45SPoL3y1CMTeOEKkzMyJnmIbJ9aMx9sqn8Vs7IZn91MboC4YHTt2t-rmnZiU_pAvT7f5PT1tbDP5Sy-PW8ixCCeP/s200/13az.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230640861522244354" border="0" /></a>a lovely guesthouse along the gorge (and famous for the best views of a toilet anywhere in the world-- I'm serious. You see this picture of the mountains? You could see this from the stall!) <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh500MEKEfU4hI1MUqVW9qn0bBBOIv8iNb1w9eYq08o0Af38ireDr1Zta0iWibhMUTnHqT26tRp5Otet_GnXjF24PwAScvXRaxhPmOiHecTAY4WWonlEG58c1_5qD0-jkL6ZbfzTtD4AQUA/s1600-h/10fz.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh500MEKEfU4hI1MUqVW9qn0bBBOIv8iNb1w9eYq08o0Af38ireDr1Zta0iWibhMUTnHqT26tRp5Otet_GnXjF24PwAScvXRaxhPmOiHecTAY4WWonlEG58c1_5qD0-jkL6ZbfzTtD4AQUA/s200/10fz.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230637101569699970" border="0" /></a>After waking up to the sun peaking behind the jagged snow mountains, we enjoyed another day of hiking. In the afternoon, we commemorated the end of our trip by gorging ourselves on infamous Yunnan potatoes, local mushrooms, and a mixture of tomatoes & egg.<br /><br />After the trek, I followed the crowd and took a chance quick trip to Shangri-la, a Tibetan town made famous by James Hilton's "Lost Horizon." (Its real name is Zhongdian; it changed its name to Shangri-la for the tourist appeal.) Everything looked different here. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAj-w9wapxbYdGB35Mg-2OeKe0hnN_NQPCZMTRtdzM8SlmveU5WWHNxWRMG9IyPKfqvgH71bvr_Uoq7fWCouUjzt_7okMOufWqvYTcycZc4vzTI-ZhFTyEm5RnOHgLhHvpFje7GceE2su9/s1600-h/18hz.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAj-w9wapxbYdGB35Mg-2OeKe0hnN_NQPCZMTRtdzM8SlmveU5WWHNxWRMG9IyPKfqvgH71bvr_Uoq7fWCouUjzt_7okMOufWqvYTcycZc4vzTI-ZhFTyEm5RnOHgLhHvpFje7GceE2su9/s200/18hz.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230645892195864466" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjXU_sy6qaYN7K8psvDgjvTkuY_oteev_3wJED2ZSemf3A3z2F2_SY_va50NwTxryLcW6eHftNXL_74L5oVN2wQhy3QeMrYy3vEPIypY_8AjvLaD_Vo8eBl5VyUkxTM5Tbz_iJ_jQrHfy/s1600-h/18az.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjXU_sy6qaYN7K8psvDgjvTkuY_oteev_3wJED2ZSemf3A3z2F2_SY_va50NwTxryLcW6eHftNXL_74L5oVN2wQhy3QeMrYy3vEPIypY_8AjvLaD_Vo8eBl5VyUkxTM5Tbz_iJ_jQrHfy/s200/18az.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230644961857004418" border="0" /></a>The higher elevation changed the landscape, turning cows into yak, Naxi-designed houses into Tibetan-designed buildings, illustrative Dongba characters to fluid Tibetan script. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZmExfAIMdbgjY5GBOFO3LhjmEC3vMwMrXJI1EM2QC1zQEgT49cDUGEcv4q8p7yDMjbw3RnUCX_tHBEJDCmzYMDoqx1QdoUBJHvi1-GfFeTfWqL0m6Am7TSOZAB2x_5YDYx0hjhHYT65lF/s1600-h/18c.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZmExfAIMdbgjY5GBOFO3LhjmEC3vMwMrXJI1EM2QC1zQEgT49cDUGEcv4q8p7yDMjbw3RnUCX_tHBEJDCmzYMDoqx1QdoUBJHvi1-GfFeTfWqL0m6Am7TSOZAB2x_5YDYx0hjhHYT65lF/s200/18c.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230644977064334770" border="0" /></a>Shangri-la is similar to Lijiang, in that it had an old city with cobblestoned streets, surrounded by a larger, newer Town.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmJNIiRkg220jwkCyqO4NXaqNf25k8utzRFGPeN4kOJBVOOBWznj5Slbdxb4m6UVBXEpesQxqUrHpfM45Fw0Arr1xer-IXMHiwGl_XWnURag0KGfy7Ib1O4rwisuB1KnqBKTxmLZ95MD8/s1600-h/18dz.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmJNIiRkg220jwkCyqO4NXaqNf25k8utzRFGPeN4kOJBVOOBWznj5Slbdxb4m6UVBXEpesQxqUrHpfM45Fw0Arr1xer-IXMHiwGl_XWnURag0KGfy7Ib1O4rwisuB1KnqBKTxmLZ95MD8/s200/18dz.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230644969260965458" border="0" /></a> A monastery overlooks the town from is perch along the mountain side. It's interesting to be so close to Tibetan culture, while still being so far--so far that is because of the current tourist ban. It was great, too, to see the mix of other ethnicities that reside together in this little (though definitely still touristy) town. And of note, as well: Yak meat is yummy.<br /><br />Despite getting to explore this new distinct yet similar town to Lijiang, my favorite part about the trip was the people I met. In the course of 4 days, I had made 10 wonderful new friends, from all over the world. More specifically, I had an amazing experience with my new friends from Israel, on their own long adventures through Asia. Imagine that. Here I am on my engineering research adventure in China, and I'm learning about Shabbat, the kibbutz, what it's like to be in the Israeli army, and the inspiring Jewish views on life. On Friday, we celebrated Shabbat dinner with Liat & Yarden (from Israel, on a 10-month excursion through Southeast Asia after leaving the army), Shani (on a relaxing yet exploratory vacation from her art therapy work in Tel Aviv), and Nancy (on a long adventure though Asia before she moves home to cozy Crete from busy Athens). I was overwhelmed by the takes on life I learned from these people. The giving, sense of humility, love of life, love of people, love of calm and enjoyment. It was overwhelming, fascinating, comforting. For our special dinner, after a day at the Tibetan Buddhist Monastery, we bargained for vegetables at the market, used broken Mandarin to buy our bread at a local bakery, sang Hebrew songs to the background of a Chinese war movie, and gleefully ate our food together with chopsticks, just us in an empty Chinese restaurant. All in celebration of Shabbat, the day of rest. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrgK6vk9QHRcB_UynLApueErOtlKltbt2RX687xHvdIDYWPXJIPLcLbtUsyl4t9d49MxPNKJqEl6G4xNEQEhr3nP7iI2gNpfHL72MD_EiiDWeQXtT5r892SGEjt6cN_nZBH5aHihu174hs/s1600-h/21a.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrgK6vk9QHRcB_UynLApueErOtlKltbt2RX687xHvdIDYWPXJIPLcLbtUsyl4t9d49MxPNKJqEl6G4xNEQEhr3nP7iI2gNpfHL72MD_EiiDWeQXtT5r892SGEjt6cN_nZBH5aHihu174hs/s200/21a.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230639723984491106" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Sababa</span>! (Cool!) <span style="font-style: italic;">L'chayim</span>! (To life!)<br /><br />Now, it's time to get back to work... more relaxed, refreshed, and eager to learn & meet new people!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-60388960067066176662008-07-29T21:30:00.008+08:002008-07-29T22:39:37.464+08:00Guanxi Guanxi GuanxiLuck was on my side today.<br /><br />For starters, every time I entered a building... it started to rain. And every time I stepped outside again--it stopped. (I know, aren't I special. The gods must be on my side-- it is the final day of the good luck <a href="http://www.cultural-china.com/chinaWH/html/en/14Traditions979.html">Torch Festival</a> right now, after all.)<br /><br />But more importantly: today was the day I made use of my <span style="font-style: italic;">guanxi</span> (<span style="font-weight: bold;">connections, connections, connections</span>)-- and met with the head of <a href="http://www.nature.org/wherewework/asiapacific/china/">The Nature Conservancy</a> here in Lijiang. They have programs in alternative energy, national park preservation, animal-life conservation, etc. To be honest, my "meeting" was really just a random "dropping-in," and I totally lucked out. Despite my email to the office's head last week, I had heard no word or invitation for a meeting. Luckily, though, I had made friends with the student volunteers who work there; Yana, Sue, and Andy assured me he'd be in the office and I could just stop by. (They also all study environmental science/engineering. As Lijiang residents, they volunteer at TNC's Nature Center over the summer.)<br /><br />Despite my unannounced arrival, however, the TNC staff was overwhelmingly helpful. Part of me thinks it was my 1/2 Asianness that got me in the door. The head's first words to me were, "Are you part Chinese?" To my nod, he tipped his head back in affirmative laughter: "I knew it." Perhaps this broke the ice? (Or, maybe it was because I came bearing gifts from the <span style="font-style: italic;">guanxi</span> who recommended me in the first place.)<br /><br />[OTHER GUANXI SIDENOTE SHOUT OUTS: Prof. Fitzpatrick, thank you for writing me that introduction letter, and Mom, thanks for translating it. C. Hayden, merci for the suggestion of namecards, and Xiao, thanks for making the call!]<br /><br />Out of utter generosity, the head recommended I speak to a friend of his... a Naxi woman who designs water systems in Lijiang. Perfection! Furthermore, he spent perhaps 30 minutes searching for the number of Yang Fuquan, a professor of Yunnan Academy of Social Sciences & eloquent spokesman of Naxi Culture. 20 phone calls later--I'm serious--he found it! I am humbly grateful for the veritable "in the door-ness" this <span style="font-style: italic;">guanxi</span> now gives me.<br /><br />Other news of note... I was invited to a project presentation meeting at <a href="http://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=zh-CN&u=http://www.greenwatershed.org/zhongwenziye/zhuye.htm&sa=X&oi=translate&resnum=4&ct=result&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dgreen%2Bwatershed%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26hs%3DFYV%26pwst%3D1">Green Watershed</a>, an organization that works in the Lijiang area to promote water rights among local communities. UNFORTUNATELY (or perhaps fortunately?) I had already made plans to trek the Tiger Leaping Gorge-- one of the deepest gorges in the world (or so says my quick, sneaky reference of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiger_Leaping_Gorge">Wikipedia</a>.) Naxi live throughout this gorge, which acts as the Tupperware container (freeze it, melt it, step on it... it endures all seasons) of Lijiang's Jinsha River, tributary to the Yangtze. I hear it's gorgeous (<a href="http://images.google.com/images?q=tiger%20leaping%20gorge&ie=UTF-8&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&sa=N&tab=wi">see google images for yourself</a>), and I'm excited to see the other forms of gushing water that call this area home. (And perfect place to learn about the significance of water to the Naxi people.) Sadly, though, the Chinese government is trying to build 8 dams in this area, so who knows what will happen to it in the upcoming years. The need for water always seems to come joined at the hip with damming, relocating, flooding...<br /><br />Living in Lijiang has certainly been an eye-opening experience. I've experienced so many "worlds" in this tiny little place. Life of my "host" sister who left her family's farm this summer to work at my inn. Life of my Chinese friends vacationing in Lijiang while Beijing's construction ban is in effect. Life of my Chinese student friends volunteering while on vacation from university. Life of the various foreign travelers who clump together in backpacker inns and enjoy in the traveling lifestyle. It is really interesting to be here. In fact, it's strange too; weird to become familiar with both the Chinese culture of tourism and the Naxi culture of, well, indigenous awesome-ness. I really do want to become friends with the sweet old Naxi women that walk through these streets everyday, but the whole idea of tourism prevents that somehow (and also possibly because many of them don't even speak Mandarin.) Comparing it to my time in Cameroon, for example, there was none of this tourism business. I was seen more in a "Development/ Peace Corps" context, where people were more eager to welcome me in & help me out. I think people feel it's weird that I would even want to get to know them & their culture. Some of the Chinese tourists here are so sassy to the people that work here, yelling at them for being slow, incompetent. Not everyone is like this, of course, but I certainly witness such a scene everyday. So, why would these people that travel around and hike and drink and buy wares care about a super old, intoxicating <span style="font-weight: bold;">culture</span>? It just adds to the dynamic that is Lijiang, I guess.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-88757161475663002912008-07-25T23:27:00.005+08:002008-07-28T09:48:22.923+08:00If only I understood more Chinese!On Lijiang TV, the words "<span style="font-style: italic;">Yu long shui</span>" or Jade Dragon Snow Mountain Water (whose glaciers supply Lijiang) caught my attention. Faces of worried men (and one woman)--maybe Lijiang's Water Authority?--surveyed a severely low-looking lake. The word <span style="font-style: italic;">wenti</span> (problem) popped up over and over again. Looks like the water problem of Lijiang is becoming a reality. If only my Chinese was good enough to actually fully understand the report! That's been my biggest complaint these days.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-74035708826225468312008-07-25T23:11:00.004+08:002008-07-25T23:23:42.468+08:00As the Olympics get closer...Check out these 2 links to see what's going on in Beijing as they get ready:<br /><br />1. <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/thereporters/jamesreynolds/">Blog of BBC's Beijing Reporter, James Reynolds</a><br /><br />2. <a href="http://www.foreignaffairs.org/20080701faessay87403/elizabeth-c-economy-adam-segal/china-s-olympic-nightmare.html">"China's Olympic Nightmare"</a> by Elizabeth Economy & Adam Segal (<span style="font-style: italic;">Foreign Affairs </span>July/Aug 08)Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-84142526327052063832008-07-25T18:04:00.004+08:002008-07-26T00:28:29.363+08:00Lijiang Rains & ReadsToday, the rains of Lijiang began. Despite my 6 years living in Seattle, I am unaccustomed to it—and so spent most of the day inside, reading. Here is an excerpt from my latest read on Lijiang--<br /><br />In 1955, Peter Goullart of Russia wrote his book <span style="font-style: italic;">Forgotten Kingdom</span> reflecting his experiences while living in Lijiang. Highlighting a time over 50 years ago, this book serves as an English account (through a foreigner's eyes of course) of what Lijiang was like before the effects of the Great Leap Forward, Cultural Revolution, and everything else we see today. He noted this:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">It was probably the only marketplace in the whole of China which was thoroughly washed every day, but this was done with the help of nature. Early in the morning the sluices of the canal which flanked the hill and was, therefore, slightly higher than other streams flowing through the city, were opened and about a foot of water was allowed to rush through the place for an hour or so. All rubbish was swept away by the water into a lower stream of the Likiang River at the other end of the market.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Likiang was covered by a network of these swiftly running streams which flowed at the backs of houses and, with the bridges, created an illusion of a miniature Venice. They were shallow and too swift for any navigation and, anyway, there were no boats in Likiang, but they served the town well, providing fresh water for all purposes. The streets of Likiang were paved with stone slabs or stone bricks and were scrupulously clean. Sweeping was frequent and thorough and the refuse was swept into the streams, which also received the rubbish from the houses. One might think that these streams and canals would get clogged and polluted in no time, but the water rushed unceasingly, crystal clear, and nothing but pebbles were seen on the bottom. The force of the current was so great that all and everything was immediately swept down the stream out of the town. It was only further down the valley, where the current became slow and opaque, that one noticed how unclean the river was. Whilst the people were indifferent to the dumping of rubbish into the water in the city, they were careful about upper reaches of the river and tried to prevent pollution by all available means. This was not difficult as the river originated in a beautiful park, a quarter of a mile away, at the foot of the Elephant Mountain — a name derived from its resemblance to a sleeping elephant. Here, out of the mouths of subterranean caverns, rushed sweet, ice-cold water from the glaciers of the Snow Range.</span><br /><br />If only I could get myself to wake up early enough to see if they still do this!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-51206126210625198312008-07-24T15:01:00.005+08:002008-07-24T15:11:34.138+08:00A Small Success!This afternoon, I met up with Lily, who runs the ecotourism company <a href="http://www.northwestyunnan.com/index1.htm">Northwest Yunnan Ecotourism Association.</a> When my family came here last year, when I first discovered Lijiang, Lily helped arrange our stay. (The pictures you see of a homestay were from last year—we stayed with Lily’s wonderful Naxi family.) With Lily was Laure, a French student interning at her company. Another foreigner staying for several months, instead of the 3 days most people spend! Laure gave me ideas of where to stay for cheap at Naxi-owned Guesthouses just on the skirts of Old Town, and provided offerings to practice my French (ahhh, in addition to my Chinese!)<br /><br />Lily and I discussed what I was trying to do, so she could ask around trying to make connections for me. She added that while she herself was Naxi, she did not know too much about water's signficance to Dongba (Naxi religion). Still, even without this understanding, she knew how important it was to the Naxi in protecting their water's source. (I'm curious--How much does <span style="font-style: italic;">holding</span> significance and actually <span style="font-style: italic;">working</span> to preserve it--like I <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">didn’t</span> see at Black Dragon Pool, overlap?) So nice, Lily explained to me where Qingxi Reservoir was (remember my earlier wonderings?) Apparently, most of the snow to Lijiang comes from the Snow Mountain (Yulong Mountain’s Glaciers) to the Reservoir, then to Black Dragon Pool, then finally to the canals and pipes of Lijiang. “It’s a very bad thing," Lily said. "If the snow melts, Lijiang will be in danger." Again, I’ll have to make clear in my mind how much of Lijiang's water comes from an aquifer along Elephant Mountain (as my reading has told me), and how much is snowmelt from Yulong Mountain’s 18,000-ft high peaks. Oh how the difference in the hydrologic balance matters! (And as it were, the engineer in me shines forth.)Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-25590233174034981222008-07-24T14:51:00.017+08:002008-12-10T23:37:06.643+08:00Black Dragon Pool-- THIS is Lijiang's life force?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZ7xnRjehJd4mqgywXAJbCFJC9f5MLk82aWhE0iVZghZPFbfu3VV3dmENWmHttM5lyA8M7By57EpwmdJX9J78KXHmx62koIgGUv-u61Azl3nltBXPabnSvRZc493BsTeVe16zMHIhtn_P/s1600-h/P7223670.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZ7xnRjehJd4mqgywXAJbCFJC9f5MLk82aWhE0iVZghZPFbfu3VV3dmENWmHttM5lyA8M7By57EpwmdJX9J78KXHmx62koIgGUv-u61Azl3nltBXPabnSvRZc493BsTeVe16zMHIhtn_P/s200/P7223670.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226568446471137170" border="0" /></a>My visit to Black Dragon Pool, about a mile north of Lijiang Gu Cheng, was quite eye-opening, and befuddling. In my <span style="font-style: italic;">Lijiang, Hello!</span> tourbook (written for an English audience then translated to Chinese, so that it serves as a language “textbook”—and apparently the proceeds goes to the local Naxi school) it states, “<span style="font-style: italic;">In many areas of</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> this tranquil park, the water is so clear that it provokes the</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> question, 'Wow was this just created?</span>'” <span style="font-weight: bold;">What?</span> Definitely not as serene as it was made out to be. Trash, algae, pipes instead of majestic springs… where was the beautiful source of flowing Lijiang life I had pictured?<br /><br />I entered through the southern gate, and traced my way upstream. The pond was now a park, for Lijiang Ren & Tourists to relax and frolic. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-42EZ1vrz4Dq-Igu0crW_36lev7yW4UMUuIMKOqCcfEvVz85F_x-82vhV1CfdTQeN1CgJf_GFVQLtZLm_g7qv4FM__iAzbiLh3mKxyH_QT8hwMfJVnBORwGQRdrLLZyvYW74qeNXE1lUp/s1600-h/P7223748.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-42EZ1vrz4Dq-Igu0crW_36lev7yW4UMUuIMKOqCcfEvVz85F_x-82vhV1CfdTQeN1CgJf_GFVQLtZLm_g7qv4FM__iAzbiLh3mKxyH_QT8hwMfJVnBORwGQRdrLLZyvYW74qeNXE1lUp/s200/P7223748.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226568457449718498" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTQamRDvsqa5UCjpogUEl8lR4gzhyphenhyphenpj_vtupIa43Xs_-zciQUPZY5a0lpvBnNfsjSeHJcYfZmbGr5P8-gziOzBrEd0be65uPZLBFvyUR38x0lWuh0Cze9J3lHI98JC-2j9_Gf34XMXWsgi/s1600-h/P7223729.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTQamRDvsqa5UCjpogUEl8lR4gzhyphenhyphenpj_vtupIa43Xs_-zciQUPZY5a0lpvBnNfsjSeHJcYfZmbGr5P8-gziOzBrEd0be65uPZLBFvyUR38x0lWuh0Cze9J3lHI98JC-2j9_Gf34XMXWsgi/s200/P7223729.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226566423146270098" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7lzRDjfLW2JrHcrNgrRHfCotC2rjA62oi_lqHS2voHEXJGFeWk_WqdhB07zlRxnOiCXZ_7mvNib0Zbapk0h4xQzzbJ3eEi0gdgC42QWJXEvzF1H2oUVvYWu9rCakcvyCmgFHAgn1pybVj/s1600-h/P7223742.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7lzRDjfLW2JrHcrNgrRHfCotC2rjA62oi_lqHS2voHEXJGFeWk_WqdhB07zlRxnOiCXZ_7mvNib0Zbapk0h4xQzzbJ3eEi0gdgC42QWJXEvzF1H2oUVvYWu9rCakcvyCmgFHAgn1pybVj/s200/P7223742.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226566430947001458" border="0" /></a>I am in no way experienced to determine what is “allowed” in a lake providing water to a municipality—but I was confused as to how this was OK. There was trash littering the banks, though luckily the little bits thrown in were strained out by workers. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXeZfwB4CDxxSlJi_oGoKTNsVlEsqbrl104hLEZ9nhL0fP0a54eMNMabCFlrE8vcYcDjZmKsoRFTyMQSQtN_DqlQm1nvdgK3DpHZq3QGfQS1OlgJ4syIWyPrjAP-Au3Q8aKQUE1lsxBP7J/s1600-h/P7223755.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXeZfwB4CDxxSlJi_oGoKTNsVlEsqbrl104hLEZ9nhL0fP0a54eMNMabCFlrE8vcYcDjZmKsoRFTyMQSQtN_DqlQm1nvdgK3DpHZq3QGfQS1OlgJ4syIWyPrjAP-Au3Q8aKQUE1lsxBP7J/s200/P7223755.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226566418344530146" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Srj4II-B7P5WXZ6Ax6MzVq_kQ47aj_WQZkJc_C1K-EuRhL4tr7vmBoWXF0J0YF1YyB9uGjCtJ24WBerRhX1lZXZE93-GLhM-s-tHA7xAbUbWeBr1tdsNI7UyMA8vN6SWNZ32RTNxZRV4/s1600-h/P7223744.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Srj4II-B7P5WXZ6Ax6MzVq_kQ47aj_WQZkJc_C1K-EuRhL4tr7vmBoWXF0J0YF1YyB9uGjCtJ24WBerRhX1lZXZE93-GLhM-s-tHA7xAbUbWeBr1tdsNI7UyMA8vN6SWNZ32RTNxZRV4/s200/P7223744.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226566434715647986" border="0" /></a>Weeds proliferated the bottom, creating swarms of brown mesh. Soapy suds layered some sections of the lake. And, finally, black, chunky, algae-like fixtures coated various entrances. On the other hand, grits and strainers can be sporadically found filtering larger particles, and I think that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weir">weir-like</a> structures, in addition to managing the flow, do some sort of cleansing of their own. I am interested to learn how all these factors affect the actual water supply.<br /><br />Past the main Black Dragon Pool is the “Northern Expansion,” a man-made addition (unlike the historic Naxi revered pond) to compensate for the additional tourists. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTTlQePiydQp-5GvIjzOTeu4lEs_aNZXHK-P0SepA3A1F4MyD0J44WC_OL4_zJtgIx7XDItg8OM7HiWruHNdH5zrA5cUgQSWSrliWdxGxfRxI4ZiBBqcpw_t9Sru5w1VJooyFZ-KAWzNW/s1600-h/P7223745.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTTlQePiydQp-5GvIjzOTeu4lEs_aNZXHK-P0SepA3A1F4MyD0J44WC_OL4_zJtgIx7XDItg8OM7HiWruHNdH5zrA5cUgQSWSrliWdxGxfRxI4ZiBBqcpw_t9Sru5w1VJooyFZ-KAWzNW/s200/P7223745.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226566440769478098" border="0" /></a>(There is also, I believe, the Qingxi Reservoir to cope with tourist demands… I must find out where this is, and how it fits in. Likewise, I know that Rockwell Automation helped implement a water supply addition a couple years ago. Where is this?) Instead of the pool emanating from a bubbling primary springs, however... it flowed into the Northern Expansion from, you guessed it, a large <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">pipe</span>. Hopefully I’ll make friends who can show me where this pipe—in my eyes a phony “Creator” of Lijiang—actually draws its water.<br /><br />Utterly intrigued, I tried to follow signs to the “Sacrifice Area of Dongba.” What did this mean?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSiGjVbn8IJS-yCbTe4vOcvab4miRWgL6elyOd0ESkN3hCrzcDhOpodxrMVUfyQNQ9nEzdWEoWS4jnkHw16HHgAART7xff2zeUtEWMti_qIfJR70vdXP9Tz4rassaixkptwEK9qWY2Bot/s1600-h/P7223777.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSiGjVbn8IJS-yCbTe4vOcvab4miRWgL6elyOd0ESkN3hCrzcDhOpodxrMVUfyQNQ9nEzdWEoWS4jnkHw16HHgAART7xff2zeUtEWMti_qIfJR70vdXP9Tz4rassaixkptwEK9qWY2Bot/s200/P7223777.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226568455376427906" border="0" /></a> And, more importantly, where was it? I could find no such place. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG61gD3mJztwXPQj6QUqdRK5_3aMjs-wZQmmLjJB-3SfXD1RG5X_D2ddMSpp8o-rz9gaGFSIr4FtkhlqlQQWqwSrElEGGMNMpxTqryg0cZq_BD3gCA0MHNyJPzP3zPXdSWDuhiNPLxE6U9/s1600-h/P7223722.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG61gD3mJztwXPQj6QUqdRK5_3aMjs-wZQmmLjJB-3SfXD1RG5X_D2ddMSpp8o-rz9gaGFSIr4FtkhlqlQQWqwSrElEGGMNMpxTqryg0cZq_BD3gCA0MHNyJPzP3zPXdSWDuhiNPLxE6U9/s200/P7223722.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226563595153972818" border="0" /></a>Instead of one commemorative Area, however, I found little pockets of worship. Along the lake, in blips here and there concealed by willow trees, lay burned incense, charred red bits of paper, and prayer flags. A statue of Buddha every now and then tells me these are mostly Buddhism-related—but why so close to the lake, in the “area” specified as Dongba Sacrifice Ground? Another thing to find out.<br /><br />Returning from my Sacrifice Area hunt, I made my way up Elephant<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTq9D4oVPqOdU9TpCtX_1miP67twqx87Qp-zVYMnsTrViPGQ2XXXwThQkWhkSn0991oDUfhuBHQohavHU_RvrEJFCauBNkd1PEP0T6hApCItp_EEpSXRXcA1xTGQ3IJxhoUhhtpUYSvDml/s1600-h/P7223789.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTq9D4oVPqOdU9TpCtX_1miP67twqx87Qp-zVYMnsTrViPGQ2XXXwThQkWhkSn0991oDUfhuBHQohavHU_RvrEJFCauBNkd1PEP0T6hApCItp_EEpSXRXcA1xTGQ3IJxhoUhhtpUYSvDml/s200/P7223789.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226572190617535410" border="0" /></a> Hill<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivhkMrxefy_ls0PZHPeZyaJaDK2HoiouQi7ISpXZuRC7-G4ZwcWH0a3vK79fxLQUC-OABekIdm8KI1CfT-wlIDrDGZ3GhpRtJRTMepasulwGWg3BfKkSveWsnIXZkmTPCSukVG9uD_zJku/s1600-h/P7223793.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivhkMrxefy_ls0PZHPeZyaJaDK2HoiouQi7ISpXZuRC7-G4ZwcWH0a3vK79fxLQUC-OABekIdm8KI1CfT-wlIDrDGZ3GhpRtJRTMepasulwGWg3BfKkSveWsnIXZkmTPCSukVG9uD_zJku/s200/P7223793.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226572196439324178" border="0" /></a> to see the view of Lijiang Old & New Town. It’s amazing how big this New Town is (see upper picture)—and to think: none of this was here until 1950, and it has since then multiplied over and over. For reference, the Old Town is in the dip to the left of the small Lion Hill (the short one with the temple on it, see lower picture).<br /><br />My last (and best!) stop in the Park was the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Dongba Cultural Center</span>, which houses a collection of Dongba artifacts, shrines, temples, and living-breathing Dongba culture. A Dongba Lao Shi (Teacher, Master) lives here, fluent in Dongba language & writing, knower of all-things Dongba religion and culture. After he finished writing some “blessings” for a group of Danish tourists, I asked him (well with Louis’s help, his wonderfully helpful student who acted as a translator) about the meaning of water in Dongba <span style="font-style: italic;">wen-hua</span> (culture). <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJnTPD92jo4MImUV3BDAPBCx5i-MInm_T0Qw0Ae2yOUpMoDrs8p-3WyJgkrlaYTCMJdcYtGYMNaf_gxB_Tsbraizm7-B10ebV3j5GtcNrpN0DgSLWid1tB-WuUC3JlMVc_dwM6I4mpuqPP/s1600-h/P7223851.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJnTPD92jo4MImUV3BDAPBCx5i-MInm_T0Qw0Ae2yOUpMoDrs8p-3WyJgkrlaYTCMJdcYtGYMNaf_gxB_Tsbraizm7-B10ebV3j5GtcNrpN0DgSLWid1tB-WuUC3JlMVc_dwM6I4mpuqPP/s200/P7223851.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226576600067784578" border="0" /></a>Success! My first little bit of Naxi cultural info. According to the Lao Shi (and, well, Louis) 30% of China’s Naxi population lives in Sichuan Province, near Tibet. The other 70% lives in Lijiang. According to the Naxi people, the Jinsha River (tributary to the Yangtze River) is the Naxi’s Mother. The River in Lao Shi’s village in Sichuan is the Naxi’s Father. The Water Spirit is named Shu—<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhND6-7dOHcg__V68XA8IIzrh_RLM0TKrrkSWbtJHVc0IiHJbIxiHXvIbjYCZzV_W8S3wCAbWPIhJ0PLRNiXm3RUvT9bfh3wNkR_OPETMu9z2_fjzcDTGtRPzOJ1dNuJ0WvKr4mLuFMo92x/s1600-h/P7223869.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhND6-7dOHcg__V68XA8IIzrh_RLM0TKrrkSWbtJHVc0IiHJbIxiHXvIbjYCZzV_W8S3wCAbWPIhJ0PLRNiXm3RUvT9bfh3wNkR_OPETMu9z2_fjzcDTGtRPzOJ1dNuJ0WvKr4mLuFMo92x/s200/P7223869.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226576604419353938" border="0" /></a>which <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScEmBaq-ihh9CGWQeSJl_4A3S1tEMcYvIYpEZUsdoPio0L3yLQD66NsPvcWib5vUmauysVM2SgxFoUcYozuLYyX3gr8GCLOtiVoS5UzXAl6AxG8FsPIKekHS0FrzDDUhQ7NPDbx2BgqTG/s1600-h/P7223870.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScEmBaq-ihh9CGWQeSJl_4A3S1tEMcYvIYpEZUsdoPio0L3yLQD66NsPvcWib5vUmauysVM2SgxFoUcYozuLYyX3gr8GCLOtiVoS5UzXAl6AxG8FsPIKekHS0FrzDDUhQ7NPDbx2BgqTG/s200/P7223870.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226576605346216338" border="0" /></a>I <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHdnPHZ0Z9u3Q1KUIub6npusYKr6z5qODlh4ZUsyyqDXWP1n8RL62_AIf7FGSMzcXskdo4FHyzt0UZO5mYK_6wEprK5TJDnYMxInUJFc_cgzp8DlRa8J65e6a5BEewdkvIrMNrHl1R7Y5/s1600-h/P7223871.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHdnPHZ0Z9u3Q1KUIub6npusYKr6z5qODlh4ZUsyyqDXWP1n8RL62_AIf7FGSMzcXskdo4FHyzt0UZO5mYK_6wEprK5TJDnYMxInUJFc_cgzp8DlRa8J65e6a5BEewdkvIrMNrHl1R7Y5/s200/P7223871.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226576614538148130" border="0" /></a>thought was the general God of Nature. I asked Louis: “so the same God of the Water is the same God of the Wind?” He laughed at me—apparently they are different Shus. I’ll need to learn more! In February, March, and April, the Naxi worship the Water Spirit. Likewise, in times of Flood or Drought, they also ask the Water Spirit to protect them. Furthermore, the Dongba Lao Shi made a huge effort to add, the Naxi ritually use water to wash away their bad spirits. (Hmmm, much like in Islam? How much of Islam came over through Central Asia to the Naxi through the southern Silk Road and other trade routes?)<br /><br />After today, I now fundamentally realize how well the Naxi are at <span style="font-weight: bold;">adapting.</span> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRekdUzrsAMwN0Q5l7wCw7Bb8p_CUjBQoxp9ZItKGALeba546z24QdbdYWk4pn33z9GAMasUPHFvwHSsr2l10v8kwBsSVprIwU3WUHKFM5shaj11IqXYdy59j-bIh0Q-3ta0Tnox0eRKBi/s1600-h/P7223930.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRekdUzrsAMwN0Q5l7wCw7Bb8p_CUjBQoxp9ZItKGALeba546z24QdbdYWk4pn33z9GAMasUPHFvwHSsr2l10v8kwBsSVprIwU3WUHKFM5shaj11IqXYdy59j-bIh0Q-3ta0Tnox0eRKBi/s200/P7223930.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226578871855785570" border="0" /></a>Within the Dongba Cultural Center, signs of Taosim and Tibetan Buddhism abound. The entrance itself has various images of Buddhist Bodhisattvas, prayer flags and Tibetan writing accompany shrines to the Wind God, and Taoist yin and yang signs adorn cloths covering the walls of various structures. My favorite find was a large, metal dragon. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUufcktkf4HlfsO76S6Sa6SNv3e7hyphenhyphengekJGEM2PIGC5lJwikmSJnGtVZvtzrlCHdkxY5UZ9awGtRSInjRNTjAs9fD1bIwp1klQ__RCeLBq6JPu53vSseqdHQXUzDdANoEQJNc4MEteRSWH/s1600-h/P7223895.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUufcktkf4HlfsO76S6Sa6SNv3e7hyphenhyphengekJGEM2PIGC5lJwikmSJnGtVZvtzrlCHdkxY5UZ9awGtRSInjRNTjAs9fD1bIwp1klQ__RCeLBq6JPu53vSseqdHQXUzDdANoEQJNc4MEteRSWH/s200/P7223895.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226576624214933922" border="0" /></a>Both the curious and knowledgeable enter its steadfastly-opened mouth to find a Tibetan Buddhist wonderland: shrines, symbols, statues, burning incense—all Buddhist, and all in the Dongba Center. Knowing now how <span style="font-weight: bold;">malleable</span> the Naxi culture is, I wonder how much of their built landscape (my beautiful canals) are a product of a <span style="font-weight: bold;">historic interchange</span> of knowledge, materials, ideas, and ingenuity. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_QAHcWtdlupQcK9wRnAZWCfyTwQu1o3BK9S_OlrFZbP-2Kl5eilMT2t_bf0uUB1O6t3BtaeS2nnoe4e3A_k0KDn3DhUKdrTAMXKeiB42KperPNsBjTuJQjKHEeUJNqFmZUsPLPdeE4ghD/s1600-h/P7223903.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_QAHcWtdlupQcK9wRnAZWCfyTwQu1o3BK9S_OlrFZbP-2Kl5eilMT2t_bf0uUB1O6t3BtaeS2nnoe4e3A_k0KDn3DhUKdrTAMXKeiB42KperPNsBjTuJQjKHEeUJNqFmZUsPLPdeE4ghD/s200/P7223903.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226578859950878050" border="0" /></a>Is the water system <span style="font-weight: bold;">really</span> Naxi? Or, were the Naxi just a <span style="font-weight: bold;">medium</span> for multiple historical traditions converging into one?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPwO_c0_lJKG4-8nZwNUtZsGeAVpMutietvK81JIRd69ByIWWqrdZoH88Z-e99ADQifJmzCUTmLg0wgA92q4NJlTA_StnIXdbDuPyk73Uwh88ZRypPunmR3-9oAMltUqT_HP9KaUra_-pZ/s1600-h/P7223904.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPwO_c0_lJKG4-8nZwNUtZsGeAVpMutietvK81JIRd69ByIWWqrdZoH88Z-e99ADQifJmzCUTmLg0wgA92q4NJlTA_StnIXdbDuPyk73Uwh88ZRypPunmR3-9oAMltUqT_HP9KaUra_-pZ/s200/P7223904.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226578864127824738" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Finally, I have to add, I’m a walking contradiction: my interests are currently not 100% in tune with my actions. In the spirit of a true collegiate American, I can only work in a café—my laptop as my aid. (I need an electrical outlet and a caffeine boost—this is my excuse.) I’ve made two separate Lijiang cafés home (each with one of my favorite Yunnan teas), and while I once prided myself on the fact that not only foreigners frequented their tables but many Chinese tourists did as well (it’s true!)—I have since realized that they’re all Han (not Naxi) owned. My money (though to be honest, I think their stuff is reasonably priced) is going to the Han entrepreneurs--entrepreneurs who have moved in, forcing many Naxi out… Naxi who have rented out their homes or sold their property as this tourism balloons. I guess there’s no way around it—the selling-out system is the way it is, and the way it will continue to be as Lijiang tries to sustain the tourism that brought me here in the first place. Nonetheless, I still feel kind of guilty about it. It’s settled then—a compromise! I am going start looking for some Naxi-owed cafes. And a homestay must happen, soon.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-57499954580220179952008-07-22T22:44:00.003+08:002008-07-23T00:02:27.832+08:00CorrectionI take that back-- I spy with my little eye <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >30 </span>White-dudes-with-Chinese-women (in just 4 days)! Don't get me wrong, I'm kind of thrilled. Way back when, when my parents were doing this sort of thing (vacationing as young interracial lovebirds), the tally would have been 1 couple in several months!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546594214613973240.post-41355608445678032682008-07-22T18:24:00.007+08:002008-07-23T00:18:27.312+08:00Progress Made?Well. When I last wrote—I was “master planning” my way through the first couple days—getting comfortable, etc etc etc. To be honest, much has been the same. I’m trying to make sense of my time here, and that includes time “alone”—I’ve never been this much on my own with my own schedule and without friends or family to back me up. It’s both daunting and liberating at the same time.<br /><br />The past two days have been <span style="font-weight: bold;">plotting, plotting, plotting</span>. I reorganized my “Plan of Attack” (for those of you who know me well—could I do anything else??) and: A) identified what I want to ask of my contacts, B) scheduled meetings, C) continued to read my resources (check out the huge list to the right!), and D) brainstormed ways I can most creatively gather information. In addition to this scheming, I’ve been discovering more of the Old Town as well. Remember how I said that the Gu Cheng (Old Town) was just an ancient, Disney-like mall? How wrong I was! Winding through the streets, I stumbled across the Naxi market, full of veggies, pig heads (see to the right!), seafood, bamboo maggots, laughing, shouting, grunting. I even walked past a fight between two older Naxi women, where one of the cute little ladies—with the meanest glare I’ve ever seen coming from such a small, tiny thing—threw her cabbage at the other! Oh the onlookers roared in excitement! So too, did I stumble across a "3-pit well" where people are still using it in the 'first drink, then wash vegetables, then do laundry' fashion they've been doing for hundreds of years (see pictures). Despite this excitement though, after the first couple days I started to feel overwhelmed and suffocated by the tourist groups galore. So, stepping into the New Town, I tried to find a new place that I could call “home.” No such luck. New Town is quite gaudy—large signs, even more tourist groups, little character. After an hour or two I retreated to my cobblestoned paradise, and signed up for another 7 days at my hotel!<br /><br />That’s another thing—my hotel room. While I’m technically living at an inn with my own room, I’ve definitely started to call the family that runs this courtyard-styled inn my own. Well—that might be idealistic thinking. I hope to soon at least. I’ve become friends with the 20 year-old girl working here: my Meimei (little sister) is very sweet. We chat, teach other Chinese/English, and watch Chinese soap operas! I have yet to really know why she’s working in Lijiang during the summer, and what it’s like, but I hope I will learn this as I get to know her better over time.<br /><br />In addition to Meimei, I made another Chinese friend: Xiaodong. He helped me find a taxi on my first day, and treated me to drinks on the raucous bar street the other night. The bar was quite the experience. Huge, loud, with green and red lights sizzling against the black interior. Here was where all the tourists had come to play--and not for cheap. A bottle of Budweiser cost (gasp!) $7 US Dollars! Dancing, smoking, shouting, karaoke-ing…this “rocking” scene seemed so different from the peaceful, historical setting it chose to call home. (You can see why the tourism designation is such a paradox, huh?) And man, has Lijiang made a paradoxical name for itself. When I asked my new friend Xiaodong why he chose to vacation in Lijiang, he said ‘because of the nightlife and girls.’ Interesting. Who would have thought that here, in the beauty of Yunnan, so touted for its rich "biodiversity and indigenous cultures," that would be the drawing factor?<br /><br />Something else I found out: Xiaodong works construction in Beijing—and with the Olympics, his work is too “dirty” and “loud” (his words) that its been postponed until after. So, this summer during the Au yun hui (Olympics), he gets a 10-week vacation! Pretty sweet if you ask me, though there is no compensation for this long time without pay. I asked if that made him angry. His answer: ‘Why? The Olympics are doing good things for our country, and I love my country.’ (Please keep in mind that this was all strictly in Chinese, using the aid of my dictionary for every other word!) I’ll be interested to see if even more tourists populate the area as the Olympics strike and people flee the soon-to-be-chaotic Beijing.<br /><br />Sooo that was a lot of personal life. In terms of water supply, I’ve started my first traces of the infrastructure. I plan to do a personal map (both a traditional one and then one thru pictures) of how the ancient system works. I’ll trace each of the 3 branches individually—seeing how it cuts through the town, and how the town itself accesses each lifeline. Once I have this personal understanding, hopefully I can compare it with the Lijiang Water Authorities’ Docs (oh I do hope I get a hold of them!). Stay tuned for that info coming soon!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01276446875907623319noreply@blogger.com0