scenic spots

Nov 22, 2014

To the top of Fangshan Mountain

Luzhou’s own scenic spot

A scene at the top of Fangshan Mountain, outside of Luzhou city
Peter on the bus, behind a man and his basket of produceEmily on the busBeside a row of teahouses at the top of the mountainMany teahouses had hammocks for restingA monk and a worker have a chatThe temple, from afarThis chicken is delicious and completely fakeA kitchen full of vegetablesAt the base of the mountain, a monk gets a haircut

The bus out to Fangshan is a small, green, rickety affair, bringing the phrase “bucket of bolts” to life. Our companions on the ride out were a small group of tourists, and farmers with their big woven baskets full of produce and rice. Also, some packages that were making the trip independently. This was a multi-purpose bus. The route to the mountain wends through narrow country roads along the Yangtze River. We passed farms and small villages, and a granny-type who handed the driver a lunch box through his window. The journey isn’t that far — only about 45 minutes — but it felt like traveling worlds away from our city life.

At our destination, the way opened out into your typical tourist structures: noodle huts, incense sellers and ticket booths. The “bus station” here is an informal group of benches across from a couple of reserved parking spaces. Immediately off the bus, some people asked to take a picture with us, the foreigners at the base of Luzhou’s prized attraction.

Fangshan — shan, or 山, meaning mountain — bills itself as a mini-Emei and one of the eight wondrous Buddhist mountains of Sichuan Province. Personally, I think it’s lovelier than Emei; the surroundings feel more lived-in and intimate, and on the day we were there, there were far fewer tourists. (Although a student of mine warned that it can get busy during the holidays.) Active temples and monasteries climb the mountainside, and the natural mixes freely with the man-made. I had a little chat with one of the staff members who was delighted to find that I could speak Chinese. “And so am I,” I said to Peter, relating the encounter.

At the top of the mountain, there is a hotel. Catching the sunrise is a major attraction at Sichuan’s Buddhist mountains, and the best way to do that is to sleep over, I guess. There are also a bunch of scrappy little restaurants and teahouses; most of them with hammocks strung between their own little cluster of trees. Hanging out, of course, being all of Sichuan’s favorite pastime. We opted, instead, for the walking path through the forest out to Knife’s Edge Ridge.

The day was quite overcast, like many autumn days in Luzhou. Our walk through the woods was serene and felt almost otherworldly. At the ridge, the trees fell away and the path became two shallow parabolas, hammocked between a pair of short pagodas. It was a misty, beautiful view, like you see in movies about China. We sat and contemplated our surroundings, marveling that this was in our own backyard.

Mid-mountain, there is Yunfeng Temple — this was the main reason we were there. After three years of making and breaking plans to visit Fangshan, we recently learned from our friend Andrea that the temple restaurant makes amazing fake meat dishes out of tofu (a Buddhist tradition). And if there’s anything that motivates us, it’s food.

It was a late lunch for us. We ordered “chicken” in a scallion and mushroom broth, a side of intensely spicy cucumbers, and the house special — which turned out to be more tofu. Our vegetarian chicken wouldn’t fool anyone (and our server made sure we understood that nothing was made with meat), but it was delicious. Savory and chicken-y with a real fleshy texture. It hit the spot after our morning’s ramble. If the restaurant wasn’t halfway up a mountain, we might go more often.

As it stands, we’d already like to return to Fangshan. There’s really no excuse not to. It’s such a short, easy — if bumpy — bus trip, and there are many more paths to explore. Not to mention the caves and waterfalls that we missed. At the very least, we’d like to try the “fish.”

Knife's Edge Ridge unfurls into the mist
Knife’s Edge Ridge affords a striking view.

Aug 30, 2014

Inside the city walls of Songpan

We don’t do things right, we do them fun

Songpan city is in a beautiful valley.
The center of old Songpan city is a hive of activity contrasting with peaceful landscape that surrounds it.
These are horses.
The horses hang out, waiting for riders.
A covered bridgeMainstreet of the old city
All types milled about the city’s main street.

Songpan is a horse town, and riding is what most people are there for. From easy-peasy day trips to two-week, hard-riding slogs into the mountains, the horses of Songpan are at your service. According to a book we found at Emma’s Kitchen — the restaurant associated with the hostel we stayed at — the area was established as a Destination by a British-Israeli businessman who a few decades ago started a horse trekking company catering to western adventurers. (Nyíri, Pál. Scenic Spots: Chinese Tourism, the State, and Cultural Authority. U of Washington Press. 2011.) These days, there are a few companies that will facilitate your horsey adventure, and both foreign and domestic travelers are drawn in. Horses share the road with giant tour buses as everyone flows in and out of the city.

But we don’t horse trek. Both Peter and I feel that horses are best admired with two feet firmly on the ground. Fortunately, Songpan city itself is a charmingly weird little nabe. It’s obviously a vacation town, but the local sector isn’t hidden away like it is in other places we’ve visited. The “real” and the “just-visiting” exist side-by-side throughout Songpan. And let me tell you, it doesn’t get more authentic than laborers gathering beneath your window at 6am getting ready for the workday.

There is an actual ancient town, bounded on three sides by a replica wall with original gates. The west side is bounded by a giant mountain that erupts skyward. Up there, the West Gate is reconstructed, but the wall is real. Let’s call the whole thing off!

Along the main drag are the inevitable tourist shops, hawking horse blankets, knives, wolfskins, traditional Tibetan handcrafts (including iPad and cell phone covers) and yak meat. If you don’t need any of that, there’s plenty of panda gear. Slip down the side streets, however, and there are residential neighborhoods. Young kids hang out on the streets, excited to practice their English with the foreigners. There’s a yak abbatoir just next to the meat market on Muslim Street, and neither are just for show.

You can tell the locals from the visitors by their gear. Tourist families sport their matching North Face-style jackets, and young ladies saunter around high heels, short skirts and newly purchased Tibetan blankets (you wanna look good, but it’s cold up there). The locals are the ones in the traditional Muslim kufi or Qiang embroidered dresses, etc. Everyone not in heels, however, wears comfortable name brand sneakers.

We spent our time in town hanging out, bouncing between Emma’s Kitchen and Amdo Coffee Inn. Early morning coffee, mid-morning snack, afternoon tea, pre-dinner drinks, late-night nightcap … they had us covered. We were basically like hobbits.

But, like Bilbo Baggins before us, we also itched to get out into the wider world …

Sitting at Amdo's The route up to the West GateIn the streets
Amdo Coffee, left, was a great place to sit and watch the world go by.
In the residential part of the citySome child's graffiti
Down Songpan’s sidestreets, real living — and real children’s graffiti — goes on.
The meat market
The meat market was just next to the very active slaughterhouse. We didn’t take pictures of the slaughterhouse.
A small bridge over the Min RiverHaving a nightcao at Amdo's
Left: A bridge over the Min River; Right: A nightcap at Amdo
To the mountains
Enough city talk, let’s get up into the mountains…