We walked first to the Post Office to make yet another attempt – futile, as it turned out – to post the cassette we’d made to Val’s mum. This time the excuse was not that there was no customs official there, but that it wasn’t packed in a strong box. Still, at least the trip gave some purpose to our morning promenade. The other piece of business we had to perform was to buy a ticket for a bus across to Lejang, from where we could catch the train to Chongqing. This route is recommended in the guide book, being an attractive route in its own right, + cutting a big corner off the journey, which would otherwise mean going to Chengdu. However, events had rendered that part of the book obsolete – there was now a big notice in English at the bus station stating that bus tickets could now be bought only to 3 towns… + none of them were Lejang. We tried even so, but no go – everyone we asked gave us a “mayo” + said Chengdu. So in the end we bowed to public pressure + bought 2 tickets for tomorrow morning to Chengdu.
We continued our walk thro’ the market, which was much the same as usual. After a very short time, one becomes accustomed to the unusual: huge slabs of meat, strange animals, people pushing, pulling or carrying enormous bundles. Our notion of the exotic right now would be a visit to Sainsbury’s. We then turned + ambled thro’ some narrow lanes, with stone houses crowding in on us on both sides. Again, it was very similar to the sort of streets one sees everywhere in Asia, only there was an absence of the abject poverty of Indonesia, Thailand, etc.
Eventually we found ourselves down by the river at the ferry wharves, + discovered quite by chance that we were only just across the river from the Big Buddha, Leshan’s principal – indeed, only – scenic attraction. It is an enormous statue of a seated Buddha set into the cliff, the largest in China, one of the largest in the world, dating from (I think) the 8th century. We found the appropriate ferry to carry us across to it. For once, our timing was perfect – there was one just waiting to go. We even travelled first-class, for what it was worth: wicker chairs on the top deck. But it was only a 5 minute trip across, + we found ourselves on the wrong side of the boat to catch a glimpse – or take a photograph of – Big B from the water.
The walk around the temple complex that included the statue on the other side was really very pleasant, but we weren’t in a condition to enjoy it. It involved following a path with countless steps, up + down, up + down – obviously the monks who built the place did not have convenience or comfort in mind. And we were still stiff + aching from our exertions on the mountain – obviously we’d strained ourselves more than we’d realised. There were a couple of interesting temples to have a look around, but it was the Buddha itself, looked down on from above, that was a highlight.
We returned across the river on a different boat, + then headed off to find a meal. We stopped off at a small café serving a doughy fritter-like dish, like a rissole, + had a couple of them – we’re always willing to try something new. But while we were sitting there, there was suddenly a great commotion outside, with news of some impending event spreading like fire, + people rushing down the street. Even the woman in charge of the café barked out how much we owed to her assistant, + ran off. Great excitement somewhere, obviously, but we are British + phlegmatic, so we took our time to finish our food, paid up, then strolled down the street to see what all the fuss was about. Many of the shops were completely abandoned, so one could, if one had a mind, help oneself to any amount of goods.
We joined the milling throng at the junction with the main road, + once again our timing was excellent, for we discovered at once what all the fuss was about. The first truck appeared just then, the open back loaded with soldiers in combat uniform, standing rigidly at ease, holding modern-looking rifles across their chests. The next held a dozen civilians, each with their head bowed + hands tied behind their back, each guarded by 2 stern-faced policemen in white uniform. And this was the pattern for the rest of the procession, perhaps 20 more trucks, except that one was all female – women prisoners, women guards. They were obviously enemies of the state, tho’ whether internal – criminals – or external – foreign guerrillas, I couldn’t say for certain. Most likely the former. But was this exhibition, as a public degradation + deterrent to others, the extent of their punishment, or but the prelude, a la revolution francaise, to something more drastic. It made for an eerie spectacle, disturbing + frightening, like a carnival parade, only almost completely silent, except for the sound of the engines, +, at beginning + end, a recorded speech, blared thro’ loudspeakers. As I had the camera already slung around my neck, I risked a couple of pictures. The risk ranged from confiscation of the film, or possibly camera, thro’ a measure of harassment to, presumably, deportation, but I counted on the crowd providing me with sufficient cover, + I was not mistaken.
Dinner was adequate but uninspiring, but afterwards we went to a tea pavilion, for sponge cakes + green China tea. Potentially, it was very nice, with lily-pads, bamboo furniture, an ornately decorated roof. And one could not complain about the atmosphere, with lots of men sitting around, spitting + chatting. But as usual, + in spite of the attractive surroundings it was all rather squalid. So we had no more than 2 cups of tea – normally they would keep re-filling the cups until after the cows came home – then walked back. Highlight of the evening was a scaldingly hot shower – nothing like it for relaxing aching muscles. I met Ben down there – he too tried to buy a ticket to Lejang, failed, + will now be off to Chengdu in the morning.
Some unexpected encounters – with the huge statue of Buddha, with lorries full of prisoners – to enliven the day.
