Zhangjiajie 2003.10

It rained in the morning. People hawked umbrellas, ponchos, maps, everything else to the thousands of visitors already gathered at the park entrance. We donned our garbage bags, I my purple polka dotted wonder. I didn't think these would sustain damage gracefully. The dampness brought with it a chilliness we did not anticipate. Great, after standing tickets on the six hour train ride over.
Still, happy and excited to be on our first trip in China. I haven't even started teaching classes yet! Maybe our mood was elevated by the knowledge that all of us tourists were encountering the same difficulties: the wetness, the crowds, the ridiculous prices. Travelling during the national holiday is masochistic, no doubt.
My head, front and center. Squeezed in the cable cars by 18's, it felt like. Luckily I was able to secure a space by the window, and "received the benefits of me." Er, of the ventilation. Human hamburger.
Since more 2 Ma., Huangshi village was formed after intermittently raising of the crust, the running water eroding the close level quartz sandstone along the vertical joints of the difference dimensions and gravity collapsing. The village, at an elevation of 1,080 meters, relative height of 450 meters approximately, is a square platform with its crest area 16.4 hectares.
From our lookout point we could see a tourist mosh pit further off, beyond the hazy abyss. Would we hazard to join them in their triumphant disappointment? The waves of water vapor slid like wedding veils over, across, through each other in a mesmerizing dance, tempting us with fleeting views and obscuring the danger of the heights.

"The trick, Mr. Potter, is not minding that it hurts." No, actually, the trick is to down sample the blurry images you take so that they look a little better. And squeezing to the front for the best view, waiting for the opportune clearance in the moving mists to click and steal a memory. Next up, what I see directly behind me ...
Yes, the trick is to play on the momentary apathy of the masses when there's no view to be had. Push through. And when you look back, this is what you see.
Well, it's better than a pattern of thick, alternating purple stripes, I guess. Or tiny purple hearts. Smile!
This den of thieves reminded me of one of the temples in Secret of Mana where you hear the freaky crazy circus merry-go-round music, and all of the denizens are mute and under the cursed enchantment of some sorcerer. Can one really consider this place a temple? Watching the performance is FREE. Want to take part in the mock marriage ceremony? Well, you can try to refuse after the costumed sweethearts dash into the audience, drape a ring of plastic flowers around your neck, and pull you to stage front. Otherwise, pay 30 yuan. Do not pass GO, do not collect $200.
The Chinese way of having fun on the rope bridge was to rattle its chains, stomping on it to the tune of its harmonic movement, causing giant waves to undulate across the wooden planks. Squeals of joy commenced. If that's the high way, I'll take the low one, thanks.
A little crowded on this bridge, wouldn't you say. It bridges the path across the deepest part of Jinbian Stream (金鞭溪). The water is beautiful and emerald clear; we saw fish darting about in its depths. When we came the second time in July, there was a clever man casting a magnet tied to a string into the water. He was fishing for coins others had contributed for luck. Don't know how much money he's able to make by doing this, but I know that if Link did this at the Mysterious Fountain, a lightning bolt would surely issue forth from heaven and put an abrupt end to his bumbling days. The Chinese have an interesting way of putting it: writing the full stop on his life. 给他的生命画上句号。

Despite the rain, a lone girl sat on a manmade dam, sketching. Weary tourists ambled by, including us, lugging our backpacks.

Finally, to the majestic secondary park entrance. We walked up the winding road a bit to our hotel, nestled in the trees along the path. I found the view quite amazing from this perspective, walking backwards.
Warming ourselves over a coal stove with some hotel employees. Warm conversation helped drive off the dampness that had infiltrated our epithelial protections.
Apparently mere humans are allowed to cross the Heavenly Bridge (天下第一桥). And how.
Standing room only. Got a pair of wings I can borrow?

The Heavenly Bridge is doing a brisk business selling Sweetheart Locks (同心锁). Lovers get their names engraved on the locks, and leave them clipped to the chains and railings holding visitors crossing the bridge back from the void. There must be thousands of locks all told, and real estate is precious. But I bet they are cut off after a certain period of time, to make room for the new, wishful customers; there's no way the place could survive even a few waves of tourists otherwise. So much for symbols of everlasting love. But if I were with my lover, I'd buy one.
As long as we're clear on that.
"Check out the sublime scenery, or you'll regret it for the rest of your life!" Man, looks like regret's coming our way, big time.
General He Long (贺龙) seemed to be influential enough to get the stadium in Changsha named after himself, and also have his likeness placed prominently on Tianzi Mountain (天子山). Though tourists abounded here as everywhere, I was able to successfully capture a feeling of remoteness and isolation with this frame.

If this isn't a 国画, I don't know what is.

Our guide Chen Tingting gave some kind of indication that we were interesting in hiring a ride, and was immediately surrounded by interested parties. The dialects flew fast and furious. Finally, they settled on 10 yuan to take us to our place for the night, a cute and clean little hostel within walking distance to a small convenience store where we secured Oreos and towels, and streetside barbeque (烧烤). After we indulged in this, we settled in for the evening's entertainment: some comfortable 粉红女郎 viewing!
The Hideout of the Yellow Dragon (黄龙洞). The immensity of the caverns inside the bowels of the earth here was amazing, and impossible to capture on my camera with its puny, quickly attenuating flash. Multicolored lights illuminated much of the rock face, but was done rather tastefully, in our opinion; the management did not succumb to the temptation of in-your-face gaudiness. This particular scene has a Final Fantasy 7-esque quality to it. Originally rather dark, Photoshop brighted it a lot, exposing the colors much more vividly than I remember them to be. It's an interesting take on the reality. Glide down still waters.
As if the land had been shrivelled by salt, pools of water with fungal irregularities lay in wait. Venus fly traps. Something malicious lies beneath their shallow pretenses.

Is it upside down or rightside up? A veritable forest of stalagmite structures greeted us after an ascent of dimly lit stairs. Not beautiful, but fascinating nonetheless.
Tu Minority (土家族) dancing at Baofeng lake (宝峰湖), which remained limpid and still as we glided across and the guide spouted nonsense about rock formations which apparently looked like: peacocks, turtles, Zhu Bajie (猪八戒), and the profile of a mistress wearing an elaborate headpiece. You get to see the dancing on your way down. I pitied these guys; they seemed none too excited about showcasing a bastardized version of their traditional dance forms to a mostly apathetic crowd.