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Lijiang Today

Lijiang Today

When the Lijiang Express (a far cry from the old rust bucket that hauled us there from Panzhihua in 1991)- large leather armchairs, seatbelts, hostesses and blaring TV – pulled into modern Lijiang we feared the worst: we had arrived in what seemed to be a vast expanse of empty roads, half-finished concrete buildings, monstrous new hotels and souvenir shops… Was this going to be the Dali nightmare all over again? Adam most eloquently expresses his feelings on the over-exploitation of that once lovely village on our blog Holachina.blog » The Death of Dali / Shangri-La Tourism What happens when all of China and the world want to visit a small town? .

A friendly Naxi taxi driver drove us to the area near the waterwheels, which marks the entrance to the Old City. Immediately, we were shocked by the mayhem: we saw scores of Chinese girls dressed in fake Naxi costumes, tourist ponies, photographers, touts and, of course, hundreds of tourists milling about, or trailing after their megaphone-toting, flag-waving guides!

We quickly turned into one of the narrow, cobbled streets, these days lined with souvenir shops, and went in search of affordable accommodation, which we eventually found at the fairly atmospheric Old Town Inn.

When we emerged again in the evening, [Read more →]

JingJing 警警 ChaCha 察察

Jing Jing and Cha Cha. Sounds kind of cute doesn’t it? They certainly look it. However, behind these innocent looking images lies a more sinister message.
“We’re watching what you’re looking at, and we don’t like it”.
This is the warning that Chinese authorities want to convey to internet users who might be tempted to stray on to “unhealthy Websites”. Unhealthy might be anything that has the word “Tibet” followed by any other references such as “freedom”. Or “Taiwan” and words like “independence”. As you navigate so called “unhealthy” sites these cuddly images appear to let you that while you’re looking at the site someone is watching you looking at it.

The Jing in Jingjing is the Chinese character 警and the Cha in Cha Cha is the character 察. Together they make Jingcha 警察 the Chinese word for police. I must admit. It’s simple and clever and definitely sinister. Here is a review of Jingjing and ChaCha on the China Digital Times

“The main function of Jingjing and Chacha is to intimidate, not to answer questions,” our reporter was told by officials in charge of The Internet Security and Surveillance Division of Shenzhen Public Security Bureau. The Internet has been always monitored by police, the significance of Jingjing and Chacha’s appearance is to publicly remind all netizens to be conscious of safe and healthy use of the Internet, self-regulate their online behaviour, and maintain harmonious Internet order together.”

Source: China Digital Times » Image of Internet police: JingJing and Chacha online – Hong Yan

Baishuitai 白水台

Baishuitai ( A day trip from Zhongdian Yunnan Province)


Here is how we wrote about it in our Diary that day (Sept 3 – 2007): … It is a stunning, largely uphill ride, through dense forests and undulating meadows crossed by rushing rivers. On our way we pass the occasional nomads’ tent and several small minority and Tibetan villages.
The first is a rickety, wooden Yi settlement that is virtually deserted. According to our driver, a taciturn Tibetan, the Yi are probably out gathering mushrooms. Curiously, the subject of the Yi is the very first to loosen his tongue: he claims that the Tibetans dislike the Yi because they practise slash and burn agriculture and are responsible for the cutting down of the forests…. Moreover, in general, they are not to be trusted (his words, not ours).  His outburst leaves us a bit baffled because, as far as we know, not all Tibetans are equally ecologically-minded. What to think e.g. of the extended use many Tibetans make of rare furs?


Fortunately, our driver is much more positive about the Hui village we pass later. [Read more →]

The Garlic Ballads /天堂蒜薹之歌 by Mo Yan莫言 (A Book Review)

The Garlic Ballads/天堂蒜薹之歌

Mo Yan/莫言

1988


Shit!’, I thought and my heart sank as the Chinese border police picked up the book and looked at it. Having just rigorously gone through all the photos on my digital camera, he was now holding a book that was still banned in China, as far as I knew. In normal times I wouldn’t have cared too much; the book would have been confiscated, the officers would have smiled apologetically, and we would have been allowed to continue… But these were not normal times: it was July 2008 and the Beijing Olympics were still in full swing.  Immigration Officers were under strict orders to give any stray foreigner entering China during that time a real grilling, looking out for undercover journalists, or just anybody who might disturb those perfectly orchestrated Games. We were neither, but we were the only foreigners on the boat from Thailand to Jinghong.

The young but diligent border guard stared at the book’s black cover: the picture of the garlic bulb seemed to be throbbing and Mo Yan’s name to be glowing. I waited. Was our trip to China about to end right here in the docks of Guanlei, without even setting foot on dry land?

The Garlic Ballads is a Hobbesian tale of rural China, where life does indeed seem short, violent and brutal. Set in the 1980s in Northern China, in the aftermath of Deng Xiaoping’s famous statement, ‘Getting Rich is glorious’, the Garlic Ballads highlights the breakdown in the relationship between the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and the peasants. The latter, still clinging to the ideals of the revolution and age- old Chinese concepts of fair and honest leadership from officials, find themselves cheated, betrayed and even murdered by a new class of CCP leaders who scandalously grab every opportunity available to enrich themselves. Mo Yan spares no niceties in his [Read more →]