Along Nu Jiang (I)

Fatigue had already begun to weigh heavily on me as I had spent New Year’s Eve in the company of two dear friends and beer. Setting off from the hostel at 3 a.m., I arrived at Zhuhai Airport by 4 a.m., only to discover that it wouldn’t open until 5 a.m. The first day of my trip followed a tiring itinerary that included a two-hour flight from Zhuhai to Kunming and a four-hour train ride from Kunming to Baoshan. Despite my initial concern that exhaustion would hinder my exploration of the city, a shift occurred within me upon arriving in Yunnan. All traces of weariness seemed to dissipate, replaced by an invigorating sense of curiosity and anticipation.

A Dignified Craftsman

Baoshan is often a brief stopover for travelers, a place to catch your breath before moving on to the next destination. I spent a single night there and decided to explore an old street nestled in a town called Qinglong Street.

Initially, I was somewhat disappointed by what I saw – a street bustling with commercial activity, lined with countless carts and stalls selling food that are ubiquitous throughout China. However, as I ventured further, I stumbled upon a few shops that caught my attention. These stores showcased a variety of items such as creatively designed cups, paintings brimming with cultural significance, and other crafts that symbolized the rich local heritage. I also discovered some ancient tea houses that had stood the test of time, where elderly locals would gather with friends and bring along desserts purchased from nearby vendors, relishing the leisurely ambiance throughout the entire day (with a nominal tea fee of 5-10 yuan per person).

Intrigued by the local art scene, I stepped into a small establishment specializing in a unique art form known as Jiama Painting. It encompasses a range of engraved prints that are meticulously crafted and used for various cultural activities in Chinese folklore, including rituals, blessings, and disaster avoidance.

Li introducing the painting to me.

The store was owned by a remarkable elderly gentleman named Li Youhua, who had drawn attention from numerous media outlets and institutions for his expertise in this art form. Despite the lack of foot traffic into his store, Li remained steadfast in his commitment to preserving this tradition. He took time out of his morning to teach students the craft at a local school, skipping lunch to ensure he returned promptly at 2 p.m. to open his store.

Li was a man of strong convictions, unafraid to challenge those in authority if they deviated from the true essence of Jiama. He recalled an incident where he managed to irk an official by boldly proclaiming, “You know nothing about Jiama! You’ve mixed up the representations!”

In a daring move, Li packed a bag full of Jiama prints and presented them before a gathering of government officers, laying them out like a deck of cards, explaining the representation of each painting. His efforts were recognized, and he received several certificates acknowledging him as a custodian of intangible cultural heritage.

Yet, he confided in me, with a hint of secrecy, that one certificate was still being withheld by an unknown individual, as if someone was wagering that he would pass away before receiving it. Li’s voice grew resolute as he declared:

“We’ll see – who dies first!”

The cool man, Li Youhua.

Another significant aspect of Li’s life was his relentless search for a successor who would be willing to learn and carry forward the cultural promotion. As I walked along the street, I noticed numerous stores adorned with posters, all seeking potential inheritors. It became increasingly apparent that the lack of interest from younger generations in preserving cultural heritage had become a pressing issue. The reluctance stemmed from the realization that it wasn’t a lucrative business venture and required a significant investment of time and effort.

By immersing myself in the captivating streets of Baoshan and uncovering the stories of individuals like Li Youhua, I realized that there was often more than meet the eye in seemingly ordinary places.

A Hidden Gem Beyond “Shangri-La”

The following day, I embarked on a journey to Gongshan, a small and remote town located in Nu Jiang Prefecture. Yunnan is home to several areas known as “ethnic minority autonomous prefectures,” where various minority groups reside and possess a certain degree of regulatory power. And one autonomous prefecture could be composed of several autonomous counties. Nu Jiang Lisu Autonomous Prefecture, for instance, are living communities of Lisu, Nu, Bai, Dulong, and other minority groups, while Gongshan’s full name is Gongshan Derung(Dulong) and Nu Autonomous County. To reach my destination, my only option was to board a small seven-seat bus. Interestingly, there was only one daily bus departing at 10 a.m. from Baoshan to Gongshan.

It became apparent that Gongshan served primarily as another transfer point on my journey. But it wasn’t until I boarded the bus and noticed that the bus route seemed to cater more towards the local population, and I was the only tourist among the passengers. The driver exhibited a familiarity with each passenger, recognizing them by face and calling their nicknames like “Teacher Zhu” or “Little Sis”. Along the way, the driver made stops to assist residents in need, such as helping a bakery deliver a birthday cake to a family in another town or offering an elderly woman a free ride. It was heartening to witness such community spirit.

Upon my arrival in Gongshan, I quickly realized that the town was rather small, and it took me just an hour to explore its entirety. Eager to try the local cuisine, I approached one of the passengers and asked for a recommendation. She mentioned a chicken dish called “漆油鸡”, which featured a special oil derived from the seeds of the Qi Tree. But she warned me that this oil could cause allergic reactions in some foreigners. Mindful of the potential risk to my trip, I decided to err on the side of caution and opted instead for some barbecue with Dai Minority features.

As I ventured towards my true destination of Bingzhongluo 丙中洛, referring to “a heaven of humans and gods living together,” seen as another “Shangri-La.” “洛” in their dialect meant village. I enlisted the aid of a knowledgeable local guide named Mr. Yang.

“Bingzhongluo has a perfect location, surrounded by Biluo Snow Mountain and Gaoligong Mountain. Different minorities with different languages and religions live here together.” Mr. Yang drove along the riverside of Nu Jiang and slowly introduced some history here to me, “This place should’ve been the true ‘Shangri-La’.” There was pity and grievance faintly fluctuating in his voice. But the debate about this divine title had never been settled, just like the dispute over the holy land Jerusalem.

Clouds enveloping the mountaintops, hazy in the mist, Peach Blossom Island came into our sight, a locale also known as “Leprosy Island” due to its historical role as a quarantine for lepers. After being abandoned on this island to fend for themselves, the afflicted individuals found solace when a nearby hospital was established to provide them with the care they desperately needed. Eventually, despite the opportunity to leave, they chose to stay, firmly rooted in the soil that had become their home for generations.

桃花岛, Peach Blossom Island.

Continuing our journey, we arrived at the breathtaking “Nu Jiang Best Bay.” To fully appreciate its splendor, we made an unexpected detour to a nearby chicken farm. While seemingly unconventional, this vantage point offered an unparalleled view of the bay, attracting visitors who sought to capture its beauty from this unique perspective.

怒江第一湾, Nu Jiang Best Bay.

But what truly captivated me was the farm’s charismatic owner, Lao Zhao. Embracing the Chinese tradition of using “Lao” (meaning “old”) followed by one's surname to convey friendliness, Lao Zhao, a middle-aged man with a delightful sense of humor, had transformed his courtyard into a small oasis. With tents scattered amidst carefully crafted artificial landscapes, he welcomed visitors with his culinary prowess, particularly renowned for some delectable chicken cuisines. Arrested by his warm hospitality, we were invited to have some tea. This was not an ordinary tea experience, as he treated us to the skillful art of brewing pu-erh tea. Each step, from washing the tea utensils with boiling water to infusing the leaves in the teapot, was executed with precision. The brewed tea, transferred to serving cups, ensured that every guest savored the same exquisite flavor.

Lao Zhao’s sitting under his tent.

In the midst of sipping tea and enjoying delightful conversations, Lao Zhao shared stories about his farm that also served as a camping spot for adventurous souls. He recounted a funny incident when a woman was planning to spend a night at the farm but abruptly changed her mind upon seeing him in person.

“She called me after returning home,” Lao Zhao raised his hand with a gesture of phone call, mimicking the woman’s tone, “Sir, I’m sorry, but your face looked too scary.”

While understanding her initial apprehension as a woman, it was evident that Lao Zhao’s amiable demeanor belied any villainous intentions.

On our way to the next spot, Mr. Yang told me something about the ownership dynamics of this place. The farm was not Lao Zhao’s property, in fact. He had entered into a 60-year rental agreement with the estate owner, while local regulations prohibited individuals from renovating housing in the area. That was why he put up tents in the center of the farm instead of repairing the rundown houses.

In the afternoon, I went hiking along the Ancient Tea House Road, known as 茶马古道. However, the portion of the trail I traversed was just a small fragment of this arduous and lengthy journey.

One section of Tea House Road.

Along the way, I passed through an ancient village called 雾里村, Village Amidst Frost. These villages appeared seemingly isolated from the outside world, transporting me back in time to an era where the melodies of livestock, children’s laughter, rustling leaves, and grass, accompanied by the distant roar of the Nu Jiang, filled the air.

Wuli Village.

Suddenly, amidst this serene ambiance, a discordant note emerged. The village was undergoing construction as the government aimed to transform the houses of craftsmen, musicians, and painters into attractions. Like any development project, there were pros and cons, but if these developments ensured a better livelihood for the residents, then it was a worthwhile endeavor.

One young woman with an elderly one walking to the outside.

Transportation posed a significant challenge for the villagers, as the only access point to the nearest road was a bridge. Even after crossing the bridge, a stone path with staircases awaited, further complicating their journeys. The construction had been ongoing for quite some time, yet only a few signs and decorations had been put in place.

A duck couple lying in leisure.

After a whole day’s adventure, for the night, I found accommodation at a lovely hostel with its own café and bar, offering a taste of local cuisine. Yunnan, renowned for its diverse array of mushrooms and truffles, commanded high prices in other regions. I ordered a steamed egg dish with truffle spread across the bottom of the plate, along with another dish of fried beef. It was a delightful and affordable indulgence costing not more than 200 yuan.

Kids in the village with one girl seemingly their leader.

During my stay, I had the pleasure of meeting two Lisu girls, high school students who worked part-time at the hostel. Their shy yet endearing personalities added to the charm of the place. As a special treat, every guest received a complimentary dessert, which the Lisu girls were responsible for delivering to the rooms by 8 p.m.

At first, they couldn’t locate me as I was spending some time writing at the rooftop bar. They patiently waited until 10 p.m., surprising me with the sweet delight. That night, I received two gifts—one in the form of a dessert and the other a complimentary cocktail thoughtfully crafted by the enthusiastic bartender, always exploring new concoctions.

As I reflect upon these encounters, I am reminded that true travel extends beyond the mere exploration of physical landscapes. It is an opportunity to connect intimately with a destination’s culture, its people, and the stories that shape their lives. My journey to Bingzhongluo 丙中洛 has certainly been an extraordinary chapter, one that has left an indelible impression on my mind and ignited a profound appreciation for the hidden treasures that lie beyond the realm of Shangri-La.