Tag Archives: Mekong

Lament for a Town that No Longer Is

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Jinghong has changed. China changes quickly, so I knew to expect this when I went to visit friends in Jinghong earlier this month. But I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. The area is less Sipsongpanna and more Xishuangbanna with each passing minute.

The Jinghong landscape now looks like any other Chinese town, with high-rise apartment buildings stretching for miles. I’ve only been gone a little less than two years — how does this happen so fast? I moved into an apartment two blocks from the Mekong River in 2006, mainly because I loved the quiet of a garden right on the riverbank where I could run and look at the water and listen to the birds and frogs in the early morning. By the time I came back from a visit to the States in 2008, the garden was gone, replaced with a new sidewalk and the shell of plans for new construction. Now, on either side of the newest bridge across the river stretch shops, restaurants, bars, and apartments. All covered in neon lights at night. The friend traveling with me commented that it reminded her of Disneyland. I was thinking Las Vegas. Either way, it is not the quiet Mekong River area I used to enjoy each morning. For that you will need to go south to Laos or Cambodia, I suppose.

Areas further from the river are just as bad. Sections of land that were once wide open fields for rice and other crops, dotted with villages of Dai wooden stilt homes, are now filled with 5-star hotels, shops, and an expo center (that is used for an event approximately once a year, thus far). Two-story shop buildings sell for $1 million US dollars. In a town where I paid about $100 monthly rent for a 3-bedroom apartment just three years ago. So far most of the new high-rise apartments are empty, though many of the units have been sold to investors from northern and eastern provinces. People who have never been to Yunnan, never visited Jinghong, have no idea what they have purchased in the form of real estate in Jinghong, and no notion of the true cost of their real estate “investment.”

Don’t get me started on the traffic problems caused by hundreds of new drivers who are used to getting around town on motorbikes and electric scooters. Car ownership is not inherently a good step forward — not when you’re talking about a small town with small roads and hundreds of thousands of people.

The clean fresh air that Yunnan is famous for is now dusty with construction and smoggy with exhaust in Jinghong. It could be any other town in China with a population of a few hundred thousand people, except for the facade of Dai architecture that the Han hope to capitalize on. Capitalize. A market freer than ever, while speech is still held captive. I scribbled this out in the Beijing airport on my way home, but was unable to post until I returned to the US, where Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube aren’t blocked.

Though I was perturbed by the blocked websites out of principle, I enjoyed the forced vacation from social media (only because it was temporary and not a regular imposition in my life) and felt like I had a more in-the-moment kind of trip since I couldn’t post and interact with people not directly in front of me. Still, at times my mind forms status updates, even when I’m not able to post them:

* 41 hours after the start of our 3.5 hour layover in Beijing, we were finally able to take off for Yunnan. Hundreds of flights cancelled due to fog, thousands of passengers stranded at the airport. You always think “It will never happen to me” — but sometimes it does.

* In my pocket are a few small green coffee beans from the trees on B Mountain – the first-fruits of the seedlings planted after the truck flipped during their transport (with me and three co-workers in it). Many emotions involved.

* The coffee roaster has made it to the cafe at last!

* Today I held a 7-week-old baby with one arm while using chopsticks to eat potstickers with the other hand. A latent talent revealed.

* I lost count of the mosquito bites I got while I was asleep each night of this trip, but the grand total of spider bites (or, more accurately, unidentified-Mekong-River-jungle-area-creature bites) while sleeping is 1.

You can build as many high-rise apartments as you want, but the jungle creatures will still find their way indoors at night.

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Easter in North Carolina

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In the past few weeks leading up to Easter, I’ve been reading the book of John. I’ve always been partial to John’s book on Jesus’ life—Matthew, Mark, and Luke are great, too, but I love the imagery and spirituality of John. I want to make reading through John an Easter tradition, as a way of focusing on the wonders and the teachings of Jesus and preparing myself each year to be amazed anew that Christ led a sinless life, humbled himself to death on the cross, and rose from death in triumph. The words of John are quite brilliant in the way they capture the awe-inspiring events of Jesus’ life, and the last verse sums up that brilliance perfectly: “Now there are also many other things that Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.”

A favorite Easter for me was one spent in China, where I awoke early to be outside on the Mekong River at sunrise. The past several days I’ve been spending time with my niece in North Carolina for her spring break, and we’ll be camping at Lake James this Easter weekend. If there isn’t a sunrise service to be found in the area, what a perfect place to make our own!

I hope you and your loved ones have an Easter filled with remembrance and celebration.

 

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Recent Silence

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In the past few weeks my blog has taken the back burner, and without any explanations on my part. I don’t pretend to myself at all that there are great numbers of people anxiously awaiting my next entry—but I do want to acknowledge the four of you reading this right now, to thank you for checking in, and give a bit of an update on where I’ve been and where I’m going.

I didn’t make any posts in December because I spent most of the month away from my computer. A wonderful way to spend a month, I must say. After a few days of meetings (the best I’ve ever attended, I should point out), I traveled in Laos for a couple of weeks with a friend. It was one of those memorable trips in life with one experience after another that I will cherish for years to come—Taking a slow boat down the Mekong for two days and arriving by glorious sunset in Luang Prabang on Christmas Eve (see photo above). Having a Buddhist monk ask us on Christmas about the meaning of the day. Hiking in the jungle for three days, staying in an Akha village that doesn’t have electricity or running water, being given the best food our host family had on such short notice. Touring the countryside by motorbike on a sun-soaked afternoon.

I have these memories, along with some that I will think on and laugh about in years to come even though they weren’t exactly funny at the time. Being ripped off by a tour company with false information on visas and hidden hotel fees. Having our guesthouse owner unexpectedly pack up and go on vacation for a week—with my friend’s laptop locked in storage in the room behind her restaurant. Sitting on the roadside in numerous buses with broken gear shifts, flat tires, and other unexplainable ailments. Awaking in the night in the village because an old man pulled back the covers from my face, just to see what the white lady looks like.

I could easily write full blog entries about each of the memories. But time is short, and ideas for writing abound. One day I’ll flesh out these stories into a book, along with others from the past few years of living and traveling in Asia. One day, when I have the time and an advance check from my (imaginary) publisher.

But that won’t be the first book I write. The first one will be about Lydia, and she and I are working on the research for it now. Think the Little House series meets girl growing up in a village in Yunnan.

So, while we focus on this research, the time I can dedicate to writing for my blog will be limited. I don’t want to give it up completely, but I’m trying to be realistic about what is possible in the time I have.

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Burmese Days Conclusion: Why I Travel

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When I’m back in my own apartment after a trip like this one through Burma, when I’ve rinsed the dust out of my hair and the laundry is out of my backpack and in piles by the porch, ready to be washed, I begin sorting my thoughts and impressions into piles, too. Those that I will share with others through these stories, through online photo albums, through conversations in the days ahead. And those that I will keep and ponder and mull over on my own, letting them soak into the depths of me and become part of how I view and interact with and face the world.

My understanding of myself becomes much clearer when I’m away from my everyday surroundings. The nature of my job for the past few years has involved projects that require intense focus and discipline for a set period of time—usually in the form of compiling, writing, designing, revising, editing. A girl can only take so much sitting behind a computer before her thoughts begin to carry her away. Better to get away of my own accord than to be carried away. By spending time away from home (wherever home is at that moment) I regain clarity of thinking, refocus, and am refreshed to the very core of who Rebecca is.

In new surroundings I am more able to recognize what it is that I value in life, and I can point a finger more definitely to the places inside me that need to change or mature. Sometimes I can do this in a two hour bike ride out to some nearby villages; other times it takes two weeks of busing across Laos. It was by staring at a glacier for several days in Alaska that I was able to comprehend how truly joyful I am to be in my 30s now, something that had escaped me for the entire previous year in Yunnan. And it was sitting under a palm tree in Vietnam, watching a young boy drive a herd of cows across the beach, that I knew the focus of my job needed to change, to become more village-centered, more language-centered. Though I had fretted for months over making this decision, I left Vietnam and returned to work with a sense of both assurance and determination.

I know God hears my prayers from my own couch just as clearly as He does when I’m traveling along the Mekong or looking out a bus window at flooded rice fields. And He does speak to me in the mundanity of answering e-mails and cooking dinner and paying bills. Yet, in the interlude of being somewhere new, somewhere different, even somewhere difficult and unsettling, I have a deeper grasp of who I am and who God is and how it all works in this life that He gives.

In that way, this trip to Burma was no different from others. I had just finished up one major project and need to hunker down and get a couple more wrapped up in the next few months. Being in a new country, talking to folks along the way, helped me think through some ideas that have been on my mind and in my heart for quite some time, and though I didn’t make any life-changing decisions on this trip, the impressions I’ve brought back will simmer and stew and blend themselves into the rest of me in a way that is just as life-changing.

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Neighbors (Part 1)

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Three years back, when I was first moving to JH and told an American friend which neighborhood my new apartment is in, her response was, “Oh.”  Thoughtful pause.  “There’s a lot more spitting in that part of town.”

Translation:  it’s near the largest outdoor market and two bus stations, so the streets are more crowded with vendors and “less cultured” people coming in from and going out to villages.  But it’s also a short block away from the Mekong River—my main reason for choosing this part of town.

A block away in another direction is Burmese Street, where you can find the best touristy shopping in town.  The street is shop after shop of clothes imported from Thailand, shoes from Vietnam, jade from Burma, local minority handicrafts, carved wooden elephants.  The shop owners are about half Chinese and half Burmese Muslims, hence the name Burmese Street.

As far as I have observed, the only occupation of the Burmese in JH is selling jade.  Their shops can be found throughout town, but the number is substantially higher in this area.  They stand out in dress and appearance in stark contrast to the Chinese and the local minority groups:  the men wear longyi (a long, plaid cloth tucked around the waist like a wrap-around skirt), and the women are covered from head to toe in black robes, with only their face and hands showing.

Their interaction with me is also quite different from that of Chinese shop owners.  The Chinese often stare as I walk past, the pale foreign lady with light hair and hazel eyes so dissimilar to the black, black, black hair and eyes all around me.  And I often hear comments about my appearance passed from one to another, under the assumption that I don’t understand that they are talking about me—those comments could be the subject of another blog entirely.  But only very rarely has someone shouted at me, other than an embarrassed “helloooooo.”

Not so with the Burmese Muslim men.  At one point, every time I left my apartment, one or more of the jade dealers would yell something at me in English as I walked or scootered past.

“Hey!  Sister!  Come here!  Come in!  Come look!”

Sister.  That’s sweet.

After a while (and my repeatedly pointing out the fact), they figured out that I’m not a tourist.  I live here.  The chances of my buying jade from their shops is slim.

Then the daily shouting changed to, “Hey!  Sister!  I love you!”

The day one of them stopped my motorscooter by stepping in front of me in the road and holding the handlebars, I began taking an alternate route out of the apartment complex.  His words could most euphemistically be described as a marriage proposal.  I felt neither charmed nor flattered.


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Sandy and Mom in JH

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Once we finally made it to JH, after all the delays, Sandy and Mom had a good visit, though rather quick.  Barely one week in all, with most of our time spent at Mountain Café chatting with the waitresses.

I had been concerned that my apartment might be a bit rough for them.  Having lived here as long as I have, I find it quite comfortable (on most days), but when newbies come from the States I suddenly remember that it has its inconveniences.  I don’t have air-con (except one broken unit in my bedroom, which I haven’t attempted to turn on in two years), and of course it didn’t rain the entire week of their visit during rainy season, so the temperature stayed in the upper 90s.  But Mom and Sandy were troopers about the heat—I think I complained about it more than they did.

My bathroom was also a concern.  No Western toilet and no shower stall.  Just a shower head over a squat toilet.  But again, no complaints from my houseguests.  Nor did they complain about how half the apartment doesn’t have overhead lights because the wiring of the fixtures burned out long ago.  Maybe they were waiting until they got back to Texas to discuss all the ways they didn’t enjoy my place.

Part of the time they were in town, I had my language class with Adam as usual, and we spent quite a bit of time practicing English with Lydia and Jenna at the café and visiting with other friends.  On Sunday night we had about 30 people over to my stuffy, hot little apartment to eat taco salad and celebrate Lydia’s graduation.  That truly gave Mom and Sandy an idea of what my life is like here—it took a full day plus to buy all the ingredients, wash and cut the vegetables, bake tortilla chips, clean my floors, and do everything else necessary to have guests over for dinner.  Nothing pre-packaged available here.

The rest of the time we did the other things visitors in JH like to do—go to the market, see the new temple and massive Buddha on the hill, shop on Burmese Street, eat Dai food, walk along the Mekong.  And talk until all hours of the night.

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Dragon Boat Races

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In the town where I currently live, JH, Water Splashing is a bit more tightly controlled.  The city organizes three days of festivities, of which only one day includes the actual throwing of water, unlike other towns where the chaos may last for a few days.  Aside from being targeted by an occasional kid with a water gun before and after the holiday, it is relatively easy to stay dry in JH, if you so desire.

The splashing of water falls on the third day of the holiday in JH.  The second day includes a citywide parade and dance performances.  On the evening of the first day of the holiday, people go to the river to float candles downstream and set off lighted paper lanterns.  The masses also head to the banks of the Mekong during the daylight hours of that first day to watch the dragon boat races.

The year I moved to JH, the races were held just a few days after I got settled in my apartment across the street from the river.  A couple of friends and I braved the sweltering heat and the teeming crowds to see what these dragon boats were all about.

We couldn’t get very close at all, but we were able to see the races from the bank above the rocks along the wide stretch of the Mekong River.  Even though I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, the excitement of the crowd was contagious, and the sight of the men and women propelling the long, slender dragon boats with their oars was well worth the heat of the noonday sun beating down on us.  (I don’t know why they don’t get up any earlier to race these boats before the hottest part of the day, but it’s not my holiday to plan….)

Each boat holds upwards of 60 or 70 people, mostly rowers dressed in identical Dai outfits.  Drummers stand in the middle of the boat, and Dai dancers stand at the front.  Several standing rowers are placed at the back to help steer.  The dancers, drummers, and steerers are all men, but the rowers can be either all-male or all-female contingents.  Their uniformity of dress and movement is stunning.

I decided that day that the dragon boat races are my favorite Water Splashing Festival activity that I’ve experienced in any location so far.  This year I was at the river for a picnic with friends the day before the races and got to see the boats practicing up close, without the huge crowds.  After getting a closer view of what it takes to get the boats in and out of the water and to coordinate everyone involved in rowing the boat, I’m even more impressed with these racers.

Next in the series:  ”Village Water Splashing“

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Easter Morning

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Easter falls at the same time as Water Splashing Festival this year, and Easter is definitely getting short shrift as a holiday in this predominantly Buddhist town.  No matter—the faithful few will celebrate.

Early this morning, while it was still dark, I quietly left my apartment and walked one block to the Mekong.  It’s been too cloudy in the morning lately to see the sunrise, but while it grew lighter I sat and listened to the frogs and the birds and the absence of human voices or construction noises.  I read John 20 and sang a song.  When it was time for coffee, I headed home.

The only people awake and moving on the street under my house were the owners of a noodle shop, just opening their garage door for breakfast.  I greeted the man as I went past and asked him, “Did you know today is Easter?  Jesus died on the cross, but He came back from the dead on the third day.  Today we remember…Jesus is risen.”

He scowled as he poked the coals under the water for their soup.  “I don’t believe that.  But my wife does.”

I stuck my head further in the shop so I could see the wife where she was arranging stools around tables.  “Are you a Christian?” I asked.

“Yes,” she smiled.

“Me too!  Happy Easter!”

Her eyes lit up and her smile widened,  “Oh, God bless you!”

Jesus is risen.   We must remind each other.  May others know and experience the fullness of our joy!


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