Travelogue 2024

He Art Museum

[Authors note: This is a try at something different. I include pictures of travel and local living in China with my other articles, so I thought why not focus on that from time to time? China was mysterious to me in 1997 and I’ve been surprised continuously ever since. I believe it is still a mystery to many who haven’t had the chance to visit. I hope to pull the curtain back a bit. Let me know what you think, your input is appreciated and will be put to good use.]

I’ve only recently made the discovery that there are endless little side quests available for a person in China with time, resources, and a modicum of curiosity.

Grinding relentlessly after stats for years in a game, life, that actually (whisper) has no final boss (someone could have told me?), eventually one looks around for diversions.


So let’s go to Foshan! Only an hour by train from Shenzhen, Foshan is a newly minted Tier 1 city. I’d prefer you didn’t ask me what that means… Foshan is a place I’m familiar with, having visited many, many times over the last two decades. Always visiting furniture exhibitions, furniture manufacturers, and furniture retail stores. Never did I spare a moment to consider the cultural surroundings. So this was like being invited to the house after years working in the barn. 


The He Art Museum is a philanthopic development that is a small part of a larger industrial and cultural development supported by the Midea Group. Midea is a world-leading electrical appliance manufacturer that has ballooned into quite the little global conglomerate through expansion into many diverse, ostensibly disconnected businesses. It just so happens, Midea was founded in, and still remains headquartered, in Foshan.

The museum was designed by world-renowned Japanese architect Tadao Ando. Look him up, the guy is really amazing. he won the Pritzger Prize (that’s the Nobel for architects)!


The name, “He”, means harmony and balance, and also aligns with the surname (pronunciation, different character) of one of the Midea Group owners, He Jianfeng, son of the founder, He XiangJian.

As it ever was, so shall it ever be.


The building is worth a visit all by itself. We didn’t have high expectations for the art showcases, so we were not disappointed by the simple exhibitions. Gotta give these things time. The museum only opened two years ago. In a few years, there’s no doubt the He Art Museum will be a truly impressive landmark. Foshan as a city is really coming along. Signs of investment are everywhere, from the cavernous (largely empty) train station to the high rise apartment complexes in all stages of construction. 


Taking time to see and share the creative efforts of others is always worth it and good for the mind.

[Author’s Note: The plan is to drop in these short articles every so often, mid-week. These are in addition to the usual weekly series. Let me know what you think, your input is much appreciated.]

[Author’s Note: Thank you for taking the time to visit. All pictures were taken by the author or family member, unless otherwise noted.]


XiQiaoShan

The amount of investment and construction in Foshan is amazing. It feels like the heyday of China’s expansion. People are shifting from living and working in Guangzhou to using the Foshan-Guangzhou express train, only one hour, to live in Foshan and commute daily to Guangzhou. The population (as of 2023) is 7.5 million and certainly growing fast.

XiQiao Mountain is a 40–50 million year old extinct volcano, and today is a AAAAA-rated (as high as it gets) national forest and geological park. A person can walk all day amid gigantic granite boulders and formations, and gaze at picturesque waterfalls. That is, they could if the fog wasn’t so thick.


So we detoured into a revisit to the major Buddhist temple in Xiqiao, the Guanyin Temple. There is a giant (66m) statue at the top of a long series of smaller temples and stairs. Take my word for it. It is quite impressive if you can see it. 

These are the surprises that make travel exciting and challenging. Sometimes things break your way, sometimes not. Whatever happens, surprise inspires adventure and that’s the spice that makes existence interesting. We concentrated on the signs explaining the signifance of the various temples, noticed who donated, hit the little shops to get lucky gifts for friends and relatives, and just appreciated being together. I don’t remember being happier.  

Flower Fields of Wuyuan

The air was moist. As after a stormy night that threatens to hang over the day. Because, of course the weather has to make me worry. Soupy grey skies persisted all the way up into the hills to Huangling. The train is only 27 minutes from Jingdezhen at 200+ km/hr, less than half the time it takes the metro to traverse Shenzhen. 

Huangling Village has tourism potential aplenty. A 500 year history and architecture to prove it, and.surrounded by terraced fields filled with a crop that not only is commercial but also beautiful, the canola flower. All surrounding hillsides are entirely covered by terraces supporting canola flower production. 

Terraces make maximum use of the available land. Some are as large as a basketball court, while others are a few meters long. The most beautiful days of the year, when the flowers are in full bloom, is the last ten days of March and early April. Our visit was a few days past the peak, but still, there were plenty of influencers snapping away, and tour groups marching around following the flags of the guides. 

A business-minded eye may wonder why oil-seed is a good crop here. The canola flowers, also known as rapeseed, are sown in Fall and harvested in Summer, an odd growth season. The strain used is a recent innovation that can survive the mild-ish winters here. China is making a big push for self-sufficiency in food production. With this new crop technology, they might come close to full domestic production. 

The flower fields of Wuyuan county were our first sightseeing stop in a four day trip in and around Jingdezhen. China has countryside, culture, and a growing appetite to connect with a less hectic self. An hour or two walking these fields reset my mind and reminded me of growing up in Wisconsin. Feels good to refresh and associate with old memories and form new connections. 

Huangling Village

The rules of travel in China were impressed upon me quickly in the 90s: Best not to. Infrastructure was weak, flights often take off hours late, crooked taxi drivers, facilities and service were bad, and the crowds during peak times, difficult to describe. Who wants to shuffle shoulder-to-shoulder on the Great Wall?

This has all changed. Almost.


Airports and flights are more numerous and better. High speed trains are regular as clockwork and superior to flying. Apps, digital payment, and metro systems, have made getting from A to B simpler. Tourism is a growing industry with much improved, if still spotty, facilities and service levels.

The crowds are still the issue. But there is a solution to hand. Any travel “off peak” is much more comfortable. Holiday costs will be 2–3x normal. Arrive even one day earlier and avoid most of this, and crowds are noticeably lighter. That’s what we are doing this week ahead of the Qingming Festival, officially April 4 to 6. This series covers sights in and around Jingdezhen and Wuyuan County. This introduction is running long so more background in future chapters. This is the second episode. After Flower Fields of Wuyuan, we walk to Huangling Village.

To get there from the flower terraces, a bridge over the valley must be crossed. It’s not for the faint of heart.


Huangling Village was founded in the Ming Dynasty; that is 500 years of history, and it is only 27 min by train from Jingdezhen. The buildings hug the side of the hill in a horseshoe shape, one layer stacked on the next. You can hear streams bubbling down the sides of the streets all through the village. 

The Main Street before entering the village proper, and also exiting, is properly commercial for the dedicated tourist; snacks, drinks, and souvenirs of all sorts. We had a nice lunch of chicken, rice, and vegetables before going in. 

Winding walkways and alleys open onto viewing platforms and demonstrations of traditional farming and drying methods that are easy to find and made simple to get in and out of. 

Some visitors choose to stay the night in the many small hotels and see the village at night. I can really see the attraction. We planned the day, and I have to say we felt rushed at the end to make the return train. The attractions we didn’t see, the shopping we had to jog past, I felt we could have used another hour or two. 

Wuyuan County and Huangling Village are must-see. We scratched the surface, really, there are many other sites (Rainbow bridge of Shangrao, Wolong Canyon, Yu’a Ancestral House) in many nearby villages. Just too many. I found it difficult to grasp the scale of the place from online information. Influencers must Amazing-Race-It from one position to the next! A more relaxed pace for me, thank you very much. 

Her Porcelain Palace

Drive only twenty minutes out of Jingdezhen, and you may find an unassuming exit with modest signage. You could be fooled into thinking you’re entering a quarry parking lot, or a temporary arrangement of construction dormitories, but then you turn a corner and there it is, a monolithic cylindrical structure covered in mosaic tiles. You have found CiGong, the Porcelain Palace of Jingdezhen.

Tickets are 20 yuan, thank you, collected directly at the gate.


You can be forgiven for wondering, “who put a giant ceramic birthday cake in the middle of the Jiangxi hinterland?” There just has to be a story here…and it is equal parts mundane and amazing. Step inside, and let your senses be immediately overwhelmed. There are motifs, carvings, statues, and mosaics covering every inch of floor, walls, and ceiling. Each balcony is whimsically pierced to look down into the courtyard below, or up to the open sky. There are no windows looking out and vision is constrained to this limited world. The exterior sort of disappears… 


The Porcelain Palace of Jingdezhen is the personal project of a local scion of industry, a Ms. YuErmei, who at the age of 82, decided that Jingdezhen was missing a monument. Her story is well told on a youtube video that is definitely worth a watch: https://youtu.be/jukU3h-hY2c?si=8E-YY_UUsHWtaHg6

Ms. YuErmei, whose name literally translates to something like “second daughter of the Yu family”, had retired after a very successful and profitable career in ceramics. She had started low at age 12 and worked in every step of the process, started her own companies, exported around the world, and earned a fortune. Upon retirement, the story goes, she traveled around the country, as one is supposed to, and she made the fateful decision to enter Tianjin. As it happens, Tianjin has an attraction marketed as a Porcelain House(see it here). YuErmei was taken aback; how could Tianjin, a port city with no history in ceramics, have a monument to porcelain, and all while Jingdezhen with 1700 years had none! So, with renewed purpose, she set out to correct this oversight. But what shape should her “house” take? A stop in Fujian caught her eye and inspired her (see it here) to make her now iconic design. 


At age 79, she bought this property and invested five years, 80 tons of porcelain in decoration, and $880,000. A million dollar vanity project, an ode to the history and might of Jingdezhen’s millenia of global porcelain dominance. Anyway, that’s the story. No doubt the gears of marketing and myth-making are just powering up to pluck the choicest morsels for consumption. Future generations are in for a treat. 


It is kind of corny, but being there, it quickly becomes quite fun. At first, you’re disoriented, looking for the museum, or graphic explanations. But there’s nothing but the art, and you forget yourself, having fun exploring and finding fun ways to make each other laugh and get pictures we would remember. You really forget yourself for a time. Even on this rainy day there were influencers going around looking for the perfect shots.

Ms. YuErmei is now 92 and her children have taken over development and management of the project. Her mission is complete. I, on the other hand, have a new bucket list mission. To see the Tianjin Porcelain House in person and fairly judge between these two behemoths. This contest must be decided, and I will be the arbiter.


First Steps on the Silk Road

This is Dongbu Village. Picturesque, placid, well off the beaten path. A special place for those who know to search it out. 

Dongbu has a special claim to historical significance that we just had to see, if only to say that we were there. Across this narrow walking bridge is a tiny wharf, and there, that was where ships were loaded with the raw materials of special Jingdezhen porcelain, mined from the surrounding Gaoling hills, to be sailed down river to the design and manufacturing cluster, making this unassuming village the first step of the famed sea route of the Silk Road. From here, China’s porcelain and ceramic goods and masterpieces shipped all around China and the world. Quite cool. 

If you want to know more about the subject, I can recommend The Silk Roads by Peter Frankopan, a great read covering the impact and evolution of The Silk Road throughout history from varying perspectives. He seems like a genuinely nice and approachable person, if that matters to you as it does to me. If that was all Dongbu had to offer, I would have been satisfied. After all, this was one stop on a day tour we had hired a driver for. But Dongbu has tricks and ways to surprise and delight. 

Walking back from the wharf, we passed a weathered door welcoming visitors to the MUSEUM. I cannot resist a museum. We learned about the geological processes that made Gaoling Hills the rich source of kaolinite that is so crucial to the highest quality Jingdezhen procelain. Today, kaolin is finding uses in all sorts of diverse industries, from atomic energy, electronics, medicine, building material, and much more. Wonderfully, this is all explained in english, in a museum that cannot get too many foreign visitors. I really appreciated this kind attention to detail. 

One final treat, and this pushed Dongbu to the very top, voted Most Memorable by my youngest son. A lunch prepared by a local family that serves as a resturant for people passing through. That, and the narrow bridge that roused just enough nervousness without being dangerous. My boys are Big City Boys, so this country-livin’ is a vivid experience they won’t forget. 

For me, the more modern buildings of the 1980–90s on this lunch side of the river were a flashback to my days in the South China manufacturing cluster. White small tile exteriors, concrete construction, three or four floors. These were the homes, dormitories, and often the factories where products of all kinds were churned out as fast as possible, to feed a world hungry for stuff, and dollars. All of that is gone now, resurfaced with superhighways, skyscrapers, golf courses, and high rise housing. The dirty manufacturing towns of the south became newly minted Tier 1 megacities. But if you travel far enough, hours by train and car, and hundreds of years back, you can find remembrances of times past and connection in the lingering shadows of an older center of human creativity and industriousness. 

Ceramic Art Avenue, Taoxichuan

Jingdezhen, in China’s Jiangxi Province, has 1700 years of specialization in the mining, design, and manufacture of ceramics. The highest quality ceramics for Chinese rulers and international markets came from this early “supercluster”.

Today, this legacy of greatness is finding new life in museums, artists studios, and young designers showing their wares in open markets. One such market showcases the latest creations of local ceramic aspiring artists and master craftsmen in the setting of an abandoned ceramics factory, the Ceramic Art Avenue at Taoxichuan.


This space just oozes “cool”. These buildings and streets really are an old converted ceramics processing plant that ceased operation only since 1958. The original exhaust towers are still here and get a lot of fan attention. 


The real fun to be had is window shopping the stalls to see the wide variety and offers. Each table has a “theme” and no two are ever alike. Everything below is entirely ceramic, believe me! 😊 


There are many places to get your treasures in Jingdezhen. We walked around several, and though we did our buying at another market, nothing beats Taoxichuan for variety and novelty. If you’re after the best prices, other places will be, I estimate, ten to thirty precent less. But you want to get the real Jingdezhen ceramics, and to be sure that you have, look at the underside for this marking. Then you know you’ve got the real thing. 


The commercial and tourism potential of Taixochuan reminds me of Shanghai’s Xintiandi, Beijing’s 789 Art District, or Chengdu’s Taiguli. The potential, not the reality. The culture and history, the space, the architecture with an air of “cool” is there in spades, but I wonder. In a country with thousands of years of history, lots of places have potential. The other examples above all have the airports, train stations, metro, hotels, and national brands to facilitate the millions of visitors necessary for success. Even if those visitors were possible, Jingdezhen is quite far from realizing this potential. I sincerely hope that Jingdezhen and Taoxichuan make it, but the odds are challenging! Someday, we will return to find out. 


Tea Culture in Hanxi Village

The story of China’s transformation is often cast in terms of a rural to urban shift. Hundreds of millions of people moved from rural areas to urban, from villages to towns, cities to megacities. These young people came in pursuit of jobs and a better life for their parents and children. Now thirty years later, their children are grown and having kids of their own. Cities have changed too, massively improved infrastructure and quality of life, but also costs. An apartment in Shanghai starts around 100,000 RMB/m2. Yeah, you read that right. $1300/sf. Outside the city center, prices are lower; still, 50K (per meter!) won’t buy much. Is it any wonder that young people are questioning old assumptions about where they want to live, investing in an apartment, or getting married and starting families? 


While this happened, the countryside and ancestral villages have lost much of their populations and economic reason for being. But now, people are looking for relief from city life, looking to the countryside and rediscovering China’s natural beauty. Hanxi Village, about 45 minutes drive fro Jingdezhen, is the very definition of rural, but something interesting is happening there. Tea is grown around Hanxi, a black tea, not green, and the fields of tea are inspiring visitors to connect to nature, and find inspiration where not too long ago the future was in doubt. 


Coffee was my adult drink growing up, and I guess you can say I’m a Coffee Guy, but I appreciate a good tea. I was spared embarrassment, good, and a nice tea ceremony, sad, because this is not drinking tea. The driver we had hired for the day helpfully told us that this is scented tea used for stuffing pillows and scented bags, stuff like that. I resisted the urge to stuff my pockets. 


There is no charge to walk around the fields, but not in the fields. Nice gravel and plank walkways provide safe and easy access to high quality viewing platforms at intervals in a short 25 minute walk. I admit, it was really impressive, particularly so, being in such a rural area. 


These platforms were not built only for viewing tea fields, because there is also an Arts Festival, the “Arts at Fuliang” Festival, beginning in 2021. Arts at Fuliang was inspired by a Japanese arts festival designed in 2000 to bring visitors to aging and natural-disaster stricken villages. The lessons of Japan, a similarly aging nation, are being put into service here. We could see evidence of the festival in signage and location markers for installations throughout the area. There is one permanent installation set at the top of a hill, named “The Light of the Earth”, by Ma Yansong. When viewed at night, lights were illuminate the shape and be seen for miles around. 


There are many of these projects all across China, using design and art to bring in tourists and revitalize old communities. This is the impression I get from Hanxi, that if we return in five years time the state of investment and professional development will be impressive. Below, we can see an impressive convention center style building for showcasing the art show. This was in final stages of construction but shows the seriousness of investment going into the area. 


The rain and cloud cover obscured the hills and brought the horizon even closer, letting us distill our attention only to the orderly green rows of densely manicured bushes. Our visit lasted less than an hour, more than ample time to find peace of mind.  


Ancient Kiln and Folk Custom Museum

There’s a mouthful.

This AAAAA(5!)-rated National Tourist Attraction is a themed ceramic culture park plus a premium ceramics retail mall plus a protected base of production plus a school patriotism education base plus a national tourism scenic spot. There are also temples, lakes, and musical performances. It is big, bold, and ambitious, like the statue of the god who greats you. 


We had planned to split a day between this nature park and another museum, the Imperial Kiln Museum (more of that later). My compulsion to visit all museums is well known, but two majors in one day, with a three generation, five member family team? Nah. 


Beyond the entrance, walking through peaceful bamboo wooded areas, listening as streams flow by, all the while winking reminders of the ceramic art appear to be growing right out of the ground. 


These are the real places where designs were conceived, clay was shaped, and everyone from the workers stocking the kiln wood, to the master craftsmen, to the merchants negotiating the comings and goings, it was all happening on this site, and it is STILL happening, right here in front of our eyes.


This is not your traditional museum. More like walking around a small town, this building over here will have memorabilia and profiles of the artists who have worked there, the next will be an active workshop, then a kiln surrounded by racks on racks of staged shapes ready to be glazed, and finally, galleries full of product for sale. 


And I mean, artwork for sale. I wasn’t prepared for this folk custom museum to more closely resemble a luxury mall. Whatever the ceramic equivalent of Louis Vuitton is, you will find it here. The Emporer, his household, and the governing administration were supplied by Jingdezhen, and from the looks of these shops and the prices, they must still be. These are one-of-a-kind, and priced accordingly. From small tea services to installations fit for a corporate lobby, they had it all. 


Signs at the entrance encouraged us to “visit the Forbidden City in the north, and visit the Ancient Kilns in the south.” That is shooting for the stars! But the Ancient Kiln and Folk Customer Museum left a great impression, surprised and delighted us, and justifies it’s confidence. 

Studio-Pei Imperial Kiln Museum

This museum is just eye candy and doesn’t care who knows it. 

The Imperial Kiln Museum in the heart of Jingdezhen is built on and over the grounds of the imperial kilns that supplied the Emperor and the government. The architects of Studio Zhu-Pei have elevated the buildings to the level of the museum pieces displayed within and paid full respect to the legacy and importance of the porcelain industry of Jingdezhen. 

The shape of the galleries are inspired by the curved domes of the old brick kilns used to fire the ceramics. In fact, some of the very bricks used in the museum are old kiln bricks. Kiln bricks lose their effectiveness over time, to retain and distribute heat, requiring the kilns to be renewed every few years. Over the centuries, many older homes in Jingdezhen recycled exhausted kiln bricks in their construction, spreading the DNA of ceramic making into the very bones of the community. To incorporate this into the walls of the museum is totally cool. 

The displays are amazing too, of course. You get the feeling that only the choicest pieces are on display; a vase here, a bowl there, always singly and encased in a tamper-proof display. There must be a full time staff working all day and all night to clean the fingerprints from the glass. 

But the real star of the show is the museum. 

The majority of visitors all shared the same mission: to hunt around for cool shots. Influencers, by the way, were everywhere. I doubt there were ten people there just to experience the museum. The average age must have been in the twenties. 

This museum opened only in 2020. Considering the impact of Covid, the museum has been accepting visitors for less than two years. This attraction really is a world-class project placed in the downtown center of a city only just promoted from fifth tier to fourth (find an explanation of the Chinese tier system here). 

That is a kind of stunning fact. A city with fourth tier access and infrastructure is hosting tier one attractions. To put that in real terms, the tickets for all trains going to and from Jingdezhen go on sale online two weeks before the holiday, and they sold out immediately. We will leave the park with one more image and a glimpse of the future. 

The China of the next twenty years will be entirely different economically and generationally from the China of the past twenty. These are big bets being made. The Studio-Pei Imperial Kiln Museum is a jewel in the crown and a fine representative of the proud history of Jingdezhen. 

The Purity of San Bao Village

An art institute where international students can learn, apprentice, and enjoy the simple life of working with their hands in an idyllic and creative setting.

That’s what I got from Google. There is so much more. SanBao Village harbors bigger dreams.

SanBao Village is really a twelve kilometer stretch of natural spaces separating oases of hotels and B&Bs, boutique restaurants, coffee shops, and artists studios and galleries. The walk through the beautiful hills is good for the fit, and there are ebike rentals and shuttle buses. .

SanBao became an international art institute thanks to founding members LiJianshen and LiWenying in 1998, who saw the opportunity to satisfy the need of young foreign artists who wanted to study ceramic art in Jingdezhen but didn’t know where to start. A few farmhouses were converted to studios and this is where we find the galleries and museums today. 

One minute you’re sharing space with the ducks, the next — after a good 25 minute hike — you’re sipping cappucino across from a five star hotel. 

SanBao was our last stop on a six day trip tightly packed with sightseeing, new restaurants, and lots of rain. Like most tourist locations in Jingdezhen, SanBao is oozing historical cool factor, but the infrastructure hasn’t caught up to the dream. I’d even say the planning hasn’t caught up to the dream. Can’t speak to the funding, but my guess is will be a slowly improving second tier center of attraction for the next decade.

To be perfectly honest, I got tired as the days passed. This was the first trip I really made knowing where I was a priority, and committed to sharing the experience. This approach to “mindful traveling” has been so healthy and positive for me, especially your warm comments of encouragement.

I learned a few lessons for future trips:

This is the last in the Jingdezhen Travelogue Series. I think this is our template for travel later in the year. We will be back next week with activities in Shenzhen.

Thanks again for all your support. Your claps and comments guide and motivate me!

TangLangShan

There are “Ten Peaks of Shenzhen”. This is the story of one of them.

Tanglang Mountain County Park is in Nanshan District, where my home is, yet this is my first visit. My experiment in “Mindful Traveling” has brought awareness of the historical richness and uniqueness of the faraway places that we visit, but also the realization that I know very little about the city that I have called home for twenty years. Let’s begin to remedy that.

Tanglang park is 15,000 acres, or 23 square miles, of heavily forested (87%) hills topped by Tanglang Peak. At 430 meters, it is not the tallest or the stumpiest, but it was voted into the Top 10 by Shenzhen citizens. Our boys had a school event at 3pm, so with limited time we struck off on one of the easier pathways winding up to Jimu Pavilion and the viewing platforms. One hour up and one hour down, if we hustled. 

My first two years working in China, 1997–98, I barely even knew Shenzhen existed. We lived some ways north, in Changan, a very concrete and sheetmetal factory town. I remember the Mattel (of Barbie fame) factory across the street from the squat block building that served as our dormitory and office. The street would be clogged with container trucks and hundreds of workers clocking in and out at all hours. Back then we would work 28 days straight, then go to the Fuyong Ferry Terminal direct to Hong Kong for a weekend to recharge and reapply for a 30 day tourist visa. Back then there were no business visas, and I remember the company I worked for was the first in the furniture industry to register a trading office, despite furniture export taking place since 1992. 

An overcast sky, relatively cool, perfect for long walks; threatening rain, but holding off just for us. As you can see, we shared the route with a diverse cast of characters. Locals were joined by Hong Kong day-trippers, parents with school-age kids, trail runners getting their workouts in on the predictable surface, and there was even a group of youngsters guided by teachers performing Three Kingsdoms lectures and telling stories. 

Rounding a corner, we’re greeted with a warning that always surprises me, though I should know by now. South China has monkeys. Not large, and not many, and you never ever see them in city settings (as in India), but in the forests, they are definitely hanging about. So watch out. These little buggers are known to steal anything not nailed down. 

The mural didn’t oversell the experience and wasn’t a minute too soon. Right around the corner, we see the first one, calmy sitting in a crook of a tree, minding its business. Everyone stops in their tracks, stares, and then there’s one over there, and two small ones playing in the trees. The leaves rustle, and one is walking on the wall behind you. 

Someone tosses a banana to waiting hands, because, of course. Everyone gets what they want. The celebrities get the attention and the spoils, and the paparazzi their momentoes. The security guards stand by watchfully. What can they do? Seriously, we should not feed our junk food to these animals. Yet doing so is always irresistable. 

Quickly, we walked on. My wife and I had been to Emei Mountain years ago and experienced the frighteningly more aggressive Emei monkeys. Those work in gangs on single tourists and extort sweets. I guess they are the same species, but they sure seemed larger, and they didn’t mind showing their teeth. 

Jimu Pavilion beckons, so we trudge on. My hips and knees don’t take the pounding as readily as years before. I still fear the descent more than the trip up.  

I used to hike a lot. Growing up rural, and in spite of wanting more than anything to live in a city, I would wind up on this or that hiking trail in Hong Kong or Dongguan on the rare weekends. Hong Kong has hundreds of kilometers of excellent hiking trails. The Hong Kong Trail that snakes around the island, or the Maclehose Trail in the New Territories. You could see monkeys there too. It hits different when you’re out there on your own. I always trekked alone in those years. I didn’t know what I was doing, or what to do. 

I want to compliment the quality of facilities and services all along the route. Top notch, all the way. Restrooms clean and comprehensive, drinking water, and even food trucks! This Coffee Bus was positioned 160m below the summit. You may give me grief for harping on how much China has changed, but if you know, you know. 

The stairs started from here, just a few short minutes of perfect steps all the way to the top with rope railings in place. This park really is one of the best maintained that we’ve tried here.

Jimu Pavilion sits at the summit so when you see it, you’ve made it. From the peak we can see all of Shenzhen Bay and into the northern end of HongKong’s New Territories. 

We can see much of Nanshan District from here. The bay and the coastal plain, just fifteen years ago most of the land was submerged. That’s right, much of the land past the white apartment towers and all the tall office buildings was built on reclaimed land. 

The bridge in the distance is the Shenzhen Bay Bridge connecting Shenzhen and Hong Kong. This is the location of the famous Shenzhen Bay Park pictures that I use in so many articles. And our apartment is somewhere out there! 

Shenzhen has so many nice parks, peaks, museums, music halls, libraries, and so much besides. While we are discussing and researching the next trip to take place later in the Summer, exploring our home city and getting to know it better is a solid idea. 

Shenzhen's Newest Library

I was a strong reader growing up, and I still am. 

I remember the public library in Arcadia, WI, of the Carnegie Foundation endowment that helped fund small libraries in the early 1900s. The smell of that old wood floor and brick-walled building. I remember books about black and white hollywood monster movies from the 50s, Wolfman and Dracula, and alien invasions. It’s funny what sticks in the mind. I still love a great library. Peaceful and quiet, nobody bothers you.

Shenzhen’s newest library, “the north division” is a work of modern art and technology. The total area under six floors is 72,000 square meters. This is a “smart” public library, also the functioning city literature archive, document collection and editing center, network data center, and dispatching center. This is a forty minute metro ride from where we live. Not exactly close, but worth the trip!

I have had a library card for the Shenzhen system since 2022, so this isn’t my first library. We usually frequent the older library in Futian district. The Futian branch is 50,000 square meters but older and doesn’t compare to the comfort and selection of this one. This new branch has 8 million(!) books and seating for 2500 people. 

All of the books in the above wall are English, which makes me so very happy. The feast of colors and the obvious age of the books show how many people must have enjoyed and benefited from reading before us. Like a giant cousin of my grandmother’s bookshelf upstairs in the country house. There were stacks of National Geographics where a ten year old could see the world. She had The Odessa File, which I wasn’t old enough for but read anyway. Her copy already looked thirty years old. I never stopped to think why she and grandpa had a book about hunting nazis. 

What we can see and explore is not the whole story. Under the six floors, there are three floors of underground storage area, fully automated and intelligent using an ASRS (auto-storage and retrieval system), which will deliver the book you want in under eight minutes. My wife tested the system to find a biography of LinYutang and it worked like a charm. 

This library and the art museum that sits right across the square were both designed by German studio KSP Jürgen Engel Architekten. I think it has a real German aesthetic. The impression is competence and efficiency first and comfortable enough where it counts. 

Libraries supercharge personal growth, and contribute to making societies fairer. Information set free raises everyone’s fortunes. Spending time here basking in the sights, smells, and (quiet) sounds of learning makes my heart at peace and anxiety about where the worlds heading less. 

The Art of Alphonse Mucha

[Author’s Note: Includes tasteful pictures of the female form.]

For me, going to an art show is like Augustus Gloop going to Wonka’s. I find the combination of quiet, unique and beautiful imagery, and the history fascinating. Bring on the chocolate river! Let’s visit the Art of Alphonse Mucha at the Seaworld Culture and Art Center in Shenzhen.

This modern style museum opened in 2017. I remember my wife and I walking and first noticing it. “Shenzhen has things like this!?” was our reaction, betraying our long history and the humble origins of this city. The museum and surrounding park were both designed by Japanese architect Fumihiko Maki, his first project in China. 

Alphonse Mucha(1860–1939) is a Czech painter, illustrator, and graphic artist. He is best known for theatre promotion posters featuring stage actress Sarah Bernhardt. The show starts here, with the posters and the partner that made Mucha famous. 

What stood out to be immediately was the facial expressions nd expressive postures. The most subtle shades of emotion, and variety of expressions, the perfect coordination and balance of head tilt, body language, hand position. It was like looking at photographs. He grabs your attention, doesn’t let it, and directs you to the message. The man was made for marketing.

Below is the first painting in the gallery, I think advertising a comedy. The only man facing the viewer, maybe the only man there, the side-eye he’s giving the revelers, his black suit, the visual leaps out and demands that you wonder what he is thinking at that moment. I would buy a ticket just to learn. He’s me at any party.

The Muse, Sarah Bernhardt. Mucha’s first poster of her made him famous and revolutionized poster design. The long, narrow shape that showed off her height and figure, the captivating expressions, always the flower motifs. These were a hit and instantly collectible. Ms. Bernhardt got all the juiciest roles, even some traditionally for men, Hamlet! 

The late 1800s saw a convergence of mass production techniques, affordable consumer goods, and the relaxing of advertising laws, which in France previously prohibited large prints on streets and buildings. Brands and trademarks began to demand packaging design and commercial advertising. Mucha’s talent for feminine vitality and grace made him truly popular with the public. I’d like to see AI try to do this! 

But for me, it is all about the expressions, full of mystery, and yet bringing us into confidence. 

In the early 1900s, Mucha’s work was so much in demand that he published a book of decorative elements that other artists and craftsmen to transfer to wood, metal, ceramics, or paper. I can’t get over the lady on the front cover. She is summoning something evil and delicious, I’m sure of it. 

But for me, it was all about the faces. Mucha understood human nature, a trait I’m always looking for. 

We’re very fortunate to have a resource like the Seaworld Culture and Art Center so close to us. Fortunate for so many things. The Alphonse Mucha show was a brilliant way to celebrate May 1st. I’m grateful to be able to share some of what we saw with you. 

Gankeng Ancient Town

Shenzhen’s Hakka History

Historical places have an immersive cool factor that people love to connect with. The older and the more relatable, the better. Preserved old neighborhoods, or Ancient Streets, exist in nearly every major city in China, bringing history close up for everyone to appreciate. Xian, Nanjing, Hangzhou, Chengdu, ChongQing, Luoyang, Changsha, Guangzhou — I’ve seen a few.

Shenzhen has been my adopted home for 23 years. Techhub-Shenzhen, Special-Economic-Zone-Shenzhen, gateway to the Pearl River Delta Megalopolis, it all happened so fast that we easily forget that Shenzhen only began the journey to “global technology hub” in 1980. Prior to that, to us business-minded folks (pity us), Shenzhen was thought of as a fishing village.

But Shenzhen City did not exist prior to March 5, 1979. Bao’an County was removed to establish Shenzhen City, and a new special economic zone. Later, Bao’an was restored, and Gankeng Village now is part of the Buji District of Bao’an County. Gankeng Ancient Town (formerly Gankeng Village), is a redevelopment project by OCT (not OCP, different, but yeah, kinda the same). By the time I hit the scene in March, 1997, you’d never know that Shenzhen was only 18 years old.


These tourist destinations are designed for family fun and education. Everyone has their needs met. There is architectural and cultural history, cool shopping, influencer hotspots, and food, lots of traditional foods. The kids just go crazy for these treats. The big kids, too. Something about the setting makes everything taste better. 


Old becomes New in these new imaginings laid over 300 year old alleyways. In a world where the old is more often bulldozed to make way for even wider freeways and even taller skyscrapers, it is nice to think about walking in the footsteps of others centuries before. 


This worn blockhouse was built in 1921 to “resist bandits and protect the village”. When bandits attacked, villagers would barricade themselves in the blockhouse. For 20 years it has stood against said bandits, the Japanese, and finally, the Kuomintang forces. Today the cramped space tells stories of the resistance, the counter spy back-and-forth, and the punishments and damage the village suffered. In this location, the first radio station connected the southern resistance to central planning, sending vital back and forth communication of positions and plans. There used to be 500(!) of these towers in the Hakka area. This may be one of the last. 


A nice free museum welcomed us in from the increasingly persistent rain. Hakka history and culture is mapped out in detail. Originally from the North, the Hakka people migrated south in a series of moves after the fall of the Song dynasty (1270).  


Very interesting how this branch of the Han never fully assimilated with other southern populations, maintaining a separate-though-related language and their own customs and beliefs. Today we can find Hakka populations all over Southeast Asia, in Taiwan, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, and even as far away as Jamaica. The effect of the blockhouse, the repeated migrations, reinforces the sense that there was a history of conflict in this area that the museum sort of glosses over. Moving on!   


Do you know what snuff is? This is a snuff shop! You can laugh, I know I’m like a kid visiting the adult store. I thought snuff had gone the way of the Victorians. Apparently, snuff is finely ground tobacco leaves, and it originated in Brazil, got to the Europeans in the 17th century, and by 1650 had reached China. The little decorative bottles look really neat. 


There are so many uses for this snuff 🤭!

You can: knock yourself out, clear your heart, stop snoring, alleviate mental depression, stop a stuffy nose, ventilate your lungs, relieve vertigo, and expell rheumatism!

I made a deal that when we come again, I get to try. Which one?


And while we’re on the subject of relieving aches and pains, how about free booze? This is traditional Hakka rice wine, also known as Yellow Wine, or Mother’s Wine, because it was often brewed by women in the home. The wine can be used in cooking, most commonly in a ginger chicken dish, or drunk directly. 


Is it funny, how we will plan vacations around major holidays, waiting for months in anticipation of the chance to fly a few hours to some new city? The truth is, I have never explored my home city beyond a few functional locales that could be counted on ten fingers! My haunts include a coffee shop or two, the library, the park, Shake Shack, and not much else. We get into grooves and repeat the same routines over and over. I will never get tired of visiting Ancient Towns. They show how modern cities and traditional culture can not only coexist, but thrive. 


Granddad's Bluff

[Author’s Note: My brand is Asian experiences, but we aren’t always in Asia, and the world contains so much wonder and cool stuff to share. Following a recent family trip to Wisconsin and New York, there are a few experiences I just must share.]

LaCrosse, Wisconsin (population 50,000) was the large town of my childhood. My Grandparents would get in their Chevy Blazer on the weekend and drive out to the superstore of the day to buy groceries for the family feasts. I may recall it was Shopko? We would get to eat at a restaurant like McDonalds or Old Country Buffet, perhaps rarely a supperclub like Nob Hill. They showered us with treats. Good times for a kid.

Now that we’re all grown up, my Mom, brother, and sister live in Lacrosse so I visit every year or so. More frequently these next few years, lest you think me a poor son. We decided in lieu of zoning out on Netlix to enjoy the summer weather in The Great Wisconsin Outdoors. My brother, who is a sportsman of some skill, suggested hiking Grandad’s Bluff.

This area of Wisconsin is called a Driftless Area, so named due to not being covered by the thick ice glaciers that came south out of Canada over the past 2.6 million years. When the ice sheets bypassed the area, the hill and valley topography remained unchanged by the glaciers that rolled over everywhere else, grinding down the hills and filling in the valleys with debris. This Driftless Area is what we see when looking out from Granddad’s Bluff. The plain where the city stretches, to the Mississippi and on to Minnesota. 

We are walking on trails designed for biking. As we walk around the switchbacks, I imagine bikers bombing down the trail, leaping over boulders, barely skidding around corners. 

Sure enough, here they come...

But not the trim speeding daredevils throwing caution to the wind, but middle-aged couples toiling painfully up the trail or (very) cautiously picking their way down around the hairpin corners. Always so nice, mindful of walkers, and always, always with a greeting.

These trails were built by professionals and it really shows. Signage is bright and easy to follow, the trails are color coded, and easy to understand. If I’d been there myself, I doubt I’d have gotten lost! Anyways, my brother knew where to go. 

But there’s more than just a hike to the summit. History leaves traces for those on the lookout. Anyone would walk right by this slot in the hill and never give a second thought. 

Here’s what the “fissure” looked like in 1865… 

This is the tramway viewed from the bottom, used to send sandstone mined from the bluffs above, down to the plain and river.

Like all towns, buildings utilized the surrounding forests for materials, but wood structures only take a town so far. After a series of devastating fires, the city decreed that new buildings be constructed from stone. The surrounding sandstone bluffs provided the new fuel for growth of the city.

Stone, cut from the quarry site, was pulled by horse to the top of the tramway and sent down by rail. How were the empties pulled back up? The weight of the cars going down pulled the empty cars up using long cables. This quarrying continued almost uninterrupted until the 1930s.

The bluff already known as “Grandad” was a tourist attraction and city landmark, already famous, and the source of debate between citizens and quarry developers who wanted to start blasting.

Local papers got involved and a public outcry led to the Hixon family, led by Ellen Hixon, to contribute $12,000 to a fund dedicated to purchasing Grandad’s Bluff for the city. If you’re thinking, hey, that’s not going to get very far, only $3000 more bought the land and funded roads and other improvements. Inflation, right?

Mark Twain put his feelings concerning Lacrosse the best, when in his book, “Life On The Mississippi”, he said, “Here is a town of 12,000 to 13,000 population, with electric lighted streets, and blocks of buildings which are stately enough and also architechturally fine enough to command respect in any city. It is a choice town, and we made satisfactory use of the hour allowed us, in roaming it over…” Ha! I was content with three days. Save some for next time, yeah? 

This short series will take in sights from our two week Summer working vacation. After spending time in Chicago, IL, Madison and LaCrosse, WI, and New York, I feel compelled to say something about America and our impressions.

America is booming. Construction and signs of activity are everywhere. When we visited in 2023, Wisconsin was visibly robust, but New York was still in Covid shock. That is not true in 2024. Streets and shops are busy. Construction is everywhere. The business leaders, school adminstrators, and educators that we met with are optimistic.

But I don’t want to gloss over the unevenness of the prosperity. You can say I am far from those who are left out. That’s fair, but not as much as you think. What I want to highlight is that when we say as much, the reaction from many people is a mix of skepticism and a sense that I shouldn’t be commenting positively on America. There is a sense of pessimism overhanging many people. What surprises me is how the pessimism is welcomed, even defended.

Americans have always been scared of their own shadow, and seem to enjoy the sport of finding bogey monsters to fret about. But I think this goes beyond that. Fear is a powerful motivator, ratcheted up to get us engaged and moving where politicians, so-called business leaders, and others want us to go. Not where we want to go. If we’re feeling down about the state of the world, it’s worth our time to pause, pull back, and look broadly at our direction. Humanity still has everything to play for.

An Afternoon At MoMa

Three Installations that made me uneasy. 

We started visiting New York during the 2000s, as an essential part of decompression and recovery after attending the exhausting and mentally draining Las Vegas Home Furnishing Market. I know what you’re thinking, “Cry me a river, with your painful trips to sunny Las Vegas.” But you may not appreciate the full picture; fly in from Hong Kong, four days conversing with innane people you don’t care for, four sleepless nights because jetlag… I was hallucinating by the time we were allowed to escape. 

My wife and I are Big City Folk, and New York is the utimate Big City. The diversity of food, people, sights, it never grows old for me. When will China embrace food carts on every corner? And we always start by checking what’s new at MoMA.

The three installations I’ve picked out to highlight are all large, fill a single room, engage multiple senses, and for me, summon a vague sense of unease. What common thread ties these together for me, if for no one else?

This is Montien Boonma’s House of Hope. Mr. Boonma (1953–2000) was a modern sculptor from Thailand who specialized in using local materials and motifs to evoke traditional culture.

House of Hope uses thousands of prayer bead strands to mimic the shape of a house or temple. These beads were crafted from special traditional Thai herbs and spices, the intended effect to give an olfactory as well as visual experience. I can’t recall any lingering scents in the space, maybe that is due to the age of the piece (1995).

The sounds of the gently swaying strands is memorable, quietly clicking as one tapped into another, then they into others. I imagined going up the steps and walking through the hanging strands. Being surrounded by the gently swaying beads, disrupting the flow. Wondering if the strands would tangle and hold me back. 

This is Richard Serra’s Equal. Mr. Serra (1938-March 2024) was known for just this type of large scale, post-minimalist work. He emphasized the relationship between the viewer and the setting.

Equal (please watch this excellent Youtube video) is four pairs of stacked forged steel units. Each block is roughly 5 feet x 6 feet and weights forty tons. Yes, tons. Notice the blocks are not symmetrically posed, and are also imperfectly square, making the angles and gaps attention-worthy.

There is a great sense of the weight here, and one can’t help wondering how heavy these blocks are, how could they possible have shifted these into this confined space. Maybe these blocks have been here forever and MoMA grew up around them? The entire impression is one of impossibly ancient artifacts. What use could humans have had for such monuments? 

This is Mike Kelley’s Deodorized Central Mass with Satellites. Mike Kelley (1954–2012) was an American artist who specialized in found objects. His many influential works combined many talents and collaborated with many other artists and musicians, as well as being a prolific writer himself.

Deodorized Central Mass with Satellites is made from stuffed animals collected from secondhand stores, thrift stores, and yardsales. The name comes from the strcuture of the piece; one central large cluster and thirteen satellites arrayed around.

Look closely at the bundles. All faces, eyes, are turned inwards. Though there are many eyes, none look outward. Yet.

Notice the pointed diamond-shaped protrusions on the walls? These are “deodorizers”, spraying a fine pine-scented mist into the air. I don’t recall noticing the scent here either, maybe the space is too tall, or my nose isn’t sensitive. 

Is this about wasteful consumer culture? Perhaps repressed trauma? The initial impression is first about the colors. The eye is drawn magnetically to the bright colors in the white space of the tall room, not even registering the shapes and spacing. These masses of fuzzy flesh hang heavily, not moving, awaiting some call to return to awareness. 

What thread connects these artists and their works for me? My darker imagination and obsession Howard Phillips Lovecraft, of course. The distorting, dangling bead-tentacles, the cyclopian architecture of At The Mountains of Madness, and the many-armed-and-eyed Shoggoths. Probably not a connection the arists expected.

I didn’t see it until partway through this writing. What gets me, and why I’m always thinking about his stories, is the completeness of the world he created. I contemplate changing, and how people can change. If we want to imagine we are someone else, you cannot change one, or many, things. You must change everything. This is why we remain who we are.

The Albertine, New York

This French bookstore was worth waiting seven years. 

As mentioned here, the first time we visited New York was around 2015, a hectic recovery vacation after the Vegas Furniture Market before returning to Asia. I remember we stayed at the St. Regis, because one morning an episode of 30 Rock was filming there.

I had made a list of all the places we needed to see. Couldn’t get them all in a long weekend, but we hit the highlights. Times Square, the M&M Store, MoMA, Magnolia Bakery, you know, the top tier sights. After these, bookstores are my priority, before Amazon shuttered them all. The Strand (historical and cool), The Rizzoli (stately and classical), The Argosy (stuffy and creepy); as the years went by, my family and circumstance allowed me to get to each. But the Albertine…

In 2017, our boys were 8 and 4 years old, so family outings required extensive prep and baggage. A quaint French bookstore that you need to walk halfway up Central Park to visit just wasn’t agreeable. Then 2019, Dad was quite frazzled by some events happening at work, and again, the drive wasn’t there. The next four years, we all lost that time, and much else besides. Come 2023, the Dotta Family returned to The Big Apple, but we had to meet this guy, see this friend, you know how it is, we’ll get to it next year.

And so, finally, Summer 2024, everyone is healthy, untroubled, and amenable to letting Dad see his bookstore with the distinctive ceiling.

The Albertine is in partnership somehow with the Cultural Services division of the French Embassy, its stated mission to bring to life the French Government’s commitment to French-American intellectual exchange. This shop acts as a hub that partners with other bookstores across the country to install “French corners” in bookstores where French selections are offered. 

The interior design feels so warm and familiar to me. US Furniture designers’ worship this style. I can’t tell you how many designs I worked with lifted elements found all over this store, from the parquet floor pattern to the cherry burgundy of the bookshelves, the silver filagree borders, to the square little metal caps on the table legs, it is all comfortingly familiar. It felt like coming home, though our own home has nothing like it. 

A component of the French formula that American’s no doubt find baffling is the pricing policy. The Albertine complies with French law that states that book prices cannot be discounted more than five percent. These “fixed” book prices are in place to protect publishers and booksellers in France and preserve a thing dubbed “biblio-diversity.” While this sounds a noble mission, I notice the aim isn’t to support authors specifically. I suppose America didn’t invent trickle-down economics or need to inspire the French. 

The ceiling of the second floor is a hand painted mural of constellations, stars, and planets. Sitting under this canopy, the warm wood tones, the worn soft leather, I could really settle in and read for a few hours uninterrupted. Also, I don’t read French. Yep, most of the books in this French bookstore are in French. 

In half an hour, maybe less, it was time to go. Was The Albertine worth the wait? It certainly was to me. Seven years is a long time to wait, but we didn’t stand still. My boys have grown, my wife and I have grown closer, we have weathered challenges and, dare I say, made progress in our lives. We came when we were ready. The Albertine waited for me. 

Bonus: The Italian Renaissance building The Albertine is located in is the Payne Whitney mansion, built in 1902 as a wedding gift. The Cultural Services of the French Embassy has been here since 1952. The Albertine opened in 2014, so the wait for me was not too long.

The statue in the lobby is a replica of Michelangelo’s Young Archer. The original stood in this spot for decades until being discovered as genuine. The original can now be viewed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Tadaskia at MoMa

Colorful fun in a children’s book. 

Visit MoMa and you will always see a lot of stuff. So much stuff. Mostly old stuff. Really old stuff. Does art need to age one hundred years before we know it can be safely valued?

MoMA reorganized the floors to showcase a mix of different artist’s works from the 1880s to the present (highlights at the end). The museum gets to dig into the warehouse and visitors get to experience a wider array of artists works. I get it.

But honestly, sometimes we need the freshness of youth, work that isn’t yet priceless, and a young artist who you can see and know and feel their love for what they’re doing.

This is why I am bringing you Tedaskia’s debut show at MoMA. Just because it’s colorful and fun and she’s a cool person.

She works freely, after saying a prayer, with little planning, and used two weeks drawing all by hand using charcoal and dry pastels. She is very good at drawing large curves without the benefit of any tools. 

The handwritten pages are borrowed from her book, “mystical black bird”, recounting a tale of winged transformation through mystical and divine realms towards a “journey of freedom” that mirrors the artist’s own life.

As Tadaskia says of the project, “the main character of the work is time.”

She says was inspired by an experience at 18, when learning about a mythical bird called the sankofa. This bird is traditionally shown turning backwards, which is why it is intentionally hard to see whether the drawings are birds flying up or down. This symbolizes the importance of knowing one’s own past, a sentiment that I can relate to. 

Anyone wanting to see more of this show and learn about this artist really should give Tadaskia’s Instragram a look. If I hadn’t searched her account out, I would not have run across The New York Times article describing the details of this project. Her account is worth your time, her exhibition is shown in greater detail, and you can really feel her passion and follow this exciting young artist. 

The TianTan Buddha

Big statues and bigger weather on Lantau Island

[Authors Note: Contains a picture looking down from a height.]

International flights are not as fun as I used to find them. Okay, this will sound strange, but the 14 hours flying over the Artic was one of the only refuges I had from the tyranny of Microsoft Outlook. Recline in the darkness, catch a movie, maybe even sleep a few hours. The world ceases to exist outside the cabin.

Now let’s say I’m just glad to get the experience over with. Landing in Hong Kong International Airport at midnight was a relief. Stretch the back, swing the hips, start to rehydrate. I was going to need my legs. Two weeks ago, we had hatched a plan before starting Mission: USA. Instead of straight crossing the border to Shenzhen, we’d ease into the day by catching a sight on Lantau Island that none of us had visited before: The TianTan Buddha in NgongPing Village.

Experienced readers will know that I have a mixed record with weather and large statues. The weather on the day has you at it’s mercy. You have to plan in advance and the elevation change makes forecasting unreliable. One just has to go for it. So with light hearts and the sun on our faces, we walked from a nice breakfast over to the Ngong Ping 360 Cable Car entrance.

Literally, and I am not exaggerating in the slightest, not ten seconds into the cable car, the blackest clouds rolled in over the hills and the first drops were splatting against the glass. There was one giant crack of thunder and the skies opened up. Wind and rain hammered and swayed the car all the way up the mountain. Can you believe my luck? 

The rain stuck with us nearly to the top; you can see above it was still gloomy as we first sighted the TianTan Buddha in the distance. Yet after a short time, the clouds passed on, and the sun rejoined us as we exited the car and entered Ngong Ping Village. Buddha was watching out for me today. 

The village is a single street of shops, restaurants, and minor attractions related to Buddhism, leading to the Po Lin Monastery and the Tian Tan Buddha. 

Po Lin Monastery conceived the idea for a landmark statue in the 1970s, securing the land in 1979. Monks were inspired by similar projects in Japan, Taiwan, and the Beijing Tian Tan (Altar of Heaven). The casting in all bronze look 12 years to complete. The details of the construction are fascinating. The monastery website provides meanings of all the gestures, symbols, and challenges of molding and construction of such a monument.

A number of personal connections surfaced in research of this site. The face of the Buddha was modeled after a Buddha at the Longmen Grottoes in Luoyang, which we visited last year! The clothing took inspiration from the statues in the Dunhuang Mogao Caves. We visited Dunhuang nineteen years ago, and I’ve forgotten much. That is a place I would love to return to some day.

But how tall is the TianTan Buddha? Height is one of the criteria that monasteries compete over. Tallest statue, tallest reclining statue, highest elevation monastery, etc.

The Big Buddha Statue is the fourth in the Ten Engineering Wonders of Hong Kong (2000), but at 26 meters, plus the base, 34 meters, it is far the junior of the 66 meter Foshan XiQiaoShan Buddha.

But this Buddha has friends. Six of them. Surrounding the Tian Tan Buddha are six smaller bronze statues knows as “The Offering of the Six Devas”, posing offering flowers, incense, a lamp, ointment, fruit, and music. These offerings represent the Six Perfections of generosity, morality, patience, zeal, meditation, and wisdom, all necessary for Buddhist Enlightenment. 

See more of the reconstruction of the Tian Tan Buddha in this great video. 

We were so grateful for the weather, only teasing us with a downpour, and for our family team energy that carried us through, allowing us a gratifying first day back in Asia. I love the US of A, the greatest country ever, but home is where the heart resides, and we all let out a sigh of satisfaction being home again. 

The walk back through the village to the cable car gave us our chance to support the local economy! If you want to, there is a six mile hiking trail, but my knees are in no condition to take that on. 

The features of the cats carry meaning, so here’s a translation of the one on the right (we brought him home with us):

Two arms up means Money and Lucky.

White body represents Business, Career, Health and Wealth.

The golden bell brings Good Luck.

The money pocket is for Wealth and Good Business.

Wow, we appear to be overly concerned with business success and money! Might have just been the Cute Factor.

Echo of Ruins

This is not a ruin — The Art of Ying Tianqi 

The new Shenzhen Art Museum opened in December, 2023, as it happens, right next to the Shenzhen Library in Longgang. Art and Books in a single modern package. Genius.

We have seen a few shows since, but Ying Tianqi’s Echo of Ruins, spanning 30 years of his career and the story of China’s reform, demands to be shared. Get ready for a mix of large installations, video art, painting, and prints.

The exhibition space is wide open and visible in entirety from nearly every angle. The blazing lights and brightly colored wall elements are minimized by the dominace of grey and dusty, which is everywhere. The sense is of walking into a ruin repurposed, transformed into the new, but haunted by what was been left behind.

The first installation, a greyed representation of an office as if narrowly missed by the bulldozer, perfectly scattered a coating of charcoal dust, is a faithful reconstruction of the studio where Ying Tianqi created prints in Wuhu, Anhui province 30 years before.

The floor of the space is covered wall to wall in a printed depiction of demolished debris. No matter where I stood, the point of deconstruction presses down, and I know we’re shuffling through memories of the foundation we’re now building on so confidently.  

YING Tianqi was born in 1949 in Anhui, China, graduated from the China Central Academy of Fine Arts and is currently a professor at Shenzhen University. So he’s one of my home town guys. At 75, he is still going strong. Now he has seen and took part in China’s transformation. Often I have noted the struggles the older generation has in acclimating and accepting the realities of New China. Professor Ying reminds me of this again, his working wishing us not to forget what came before. 

I think about where China has been and the years of work of so many individuals to improve their lot, their families, and communities. I was here to witness a small part of that. Migrant workers who left their homes to travel a thousand miles to work in factory towns, finding their loves and starting families, giving the next generation chances they never had just as their parents did the same for them. All those generations yet exist and mingle together in today’s China. 

What a diversity of lived experience! And what is next? Certainly, a China that achieved a degree of modernization and infrastructure will never forget the sacrifices of those who made it possible, but must also look forward to what is next. The generation today has the same challenge: To somehow envision and expect a life for their kids and grandkids that looks nothing like anything they could ever imagine. I do hope that this belief in the future holds. It wasn’t and won’t be easy.

“Voice of Many Voices” is a hulking 580cm rectangle of 450 wooden plank crates used to collect the ancient bricks in the reconstruction of the old city in Wuhu, Anhui, in 2014. The tower incorporates video displays playing messages from the voices of the brick pickers. 

It is a lot to move around and reset again and again. Commitment to art goes far beyond that inspiration and work of the artist. Where are the 450 boxes of bricks stored, how kept safe and catalogued? The activity and organization invisible behind the scenes must be enormous. 

Professor Ying Tianqi has been inspiring and teaching young artists for more than 60 years. This exhibition was a great way to fully grasp the wide scope of his works, talents, and influence. We were lucky and honored to see it. 

“In the journey of life and art, I am always looking for the moment when my soul and reality come into contact, striving for my own truth and sincerity, abandoning the commonalities between each other, and looking for the differences between myself and others.” — above, translated by Google. 

Chen Man's Atistry

“Once a Shenzhener, Always.” 

This is motto and model of modern Shenzhen. A motto spoken and earnestly lived by the millions of migrant workers, expatriates, and their families who have moved and been birthed here since Shenzhen became a favored city in 1989. Long-time readers have seen this slogan before at the He Man Museum.

Chen Man’s SAME is an exhibition that combines and celebrates a corresponding mantra of Shenzhen citizens, “Once you come, you’re a Shenzhener”. This is a grass-roots belief, as I have heard this sentiment from many friends and colleagues, both local and foreign. Having made Shenzhen my home for the past 20 years, I appreciate feeling welcomed by the city and those I share it with.

Chen Man is a visual artist of international fame known for blending traditional Chinese art with modern tools and viewpoints. We were treated to a series of installations, paintings, and photography in this show that demonstrates the reach and range of an evolving artist. 

Chen’s art a mix of photography with Photoshop and 3DMax, which while stunning, can be controversial with those who a traditionalist view. Chen takes already beautiful people, turns the imagination and sharpness up to eleven, and gives us a fantasy that we cannot look away from. Her projects are a who’s who of celebrities, luxury brands, and magazines. 

I especially connected with this, part of an advertising campaign for scented teas. Not for drinking! When we visited the Hanxi tea fields, I thought I was bold going off boardwalk to walk between the rows, but I missed a trick not getting in a liedown. 

How many of these folks can you recognize? Chen Man is really everywhere and has amazing access. 

This piece, Dharma, is my favorite. The red robes pulled tightly, body completely hidden, the intensity behind the eyes, an expression of barely contained fury, but pulled tight and holding back, ready to meet attacks but not initiate them.

Dharma refers to the inherent nature of reality, or the right way of living. I don’t know why Chen named her painting Dharma, but I see some of myself that I’m getting to know reflected in that face.

An enclosed, darkened space with comfy bean bags was the final stop on our tour, watching a 45min documentary that followed Ms. Chen on a pilgrimage back to her hometown in Inner Mongolia. Her purpose was to reconnect after twenty-plus years with her Nai Nai. This grandmother was not her grandmother by relation, but a kind woman who take over caring for her while Chen Man’s parents supported the family with jobs far away. A common circumstance for Chinese families of that time. We were riveted to the screen for the whole runtime. 

Getting a chance to know of Chen Man the artist is what I like about an art exhibition. No doubt I’ve seen her work many times and didn’t know it, but I’m betting she will turn up again. What a nice show after Echo of Ruins to bookend the day. Grateful to have this museum, my family, and the time and opportunity to share this with you. 

TaiGuLi

Modern spirituality in the heart of Chengdu 

Going on vacations as a family is important to us. More so, because our oldest will be leaving in just a too-short couple of years. We want to use this time together to see more of China as a family, learn and teach more of the history of this ancient region, and test ourselves against new experiences.

With that in mind, Chengdu is at the top of any must-see list for culture, history, and modern enjoyment. Our family has been here before, just last year in fact, but let me explain why we returned so soon. There is a lot going on in this very central city in China’s vast West.

Chengdu is a two and half hour flight from Shenzhen, so getting out the door at six can get you on the ground by noon. Not really as difficult as one might think. There are two airports and several train stations in Chengdu, and we plan to use most of them before the week is out. So with an afternoon ahead of us and a desire to banish the memories and cramps of air travel, we took the subway to a place where the body and the mind can get the attention needed. 

Chengdu is rightly described as the center of Sichan Province, a mega-Tier One city that really stands alone, the powerful gravity of its market and population (21 million) pulling in the majority of investment from the surrounding area. TaiGuLi, opened in 2015, is the beating heart of retail in the heart of Chengdu. Developed by Swire Properties and Sino Ocean Group, there are 1.14 million(!) of mazy square feet of fashion brands, fine dining, and international luxury. At all times, day or night, every day of the year, TaiGuLi is hopping. 

Like this little well-trafficked establishment that specializes in spicy rabbit heads. Yes, rabbit is a popular meat in China, but the special dish that uses only the head is really popular in Sichuan Province. So much so that 2 of every 3 rabbit heads are consumed in Sichuan. Above is the famous brand that dominates the market. “Shuangliu” is the district name, old mother, “Lao ma”, is the creator of the recipe, and “tutou” is, you guessed it, rabbit head.  

No, we didn’t try one. I totally wussed out!

In lieu of that, we went to a French bakery, the Truffle Boulangerie. Take away wasn’t too bad, but waiting for table would have burned off half the afternoon. The crowds at TaiGuLi weren’t bad for a Monday afternoon, but this bakery was shoulder to shoulder. We would surely experience many epic crowds by the end of the week.

I have been coming to Chengdu since the late 1990s, when my job was finding manufacturers to partner with. The region never had too much success in export. Being too far from ports made Chengdu uncompetitive compared to Guangzhou, Dongguan, and so on, cities with international ports. Then as the flow of product flipped and I needed to sell not buy, Chengdu became mighty important. 

This is the retail hub of the entire province. It’s difficult to overstate the importance of this city. The population of Sichuan is 83 million, and Chengdu counts for a quarter of the total. The second city is hardly worthy of the title. We will visit to see for ourselves. You know the tier system? Of course you do. Chengdu is super-mega-Tier-1. Personally, I don’t think any other city is even Tier 3 after that. 

This virtuous cycle acts to pull all businesses and investment into Chengdu, and this is not a new phenomenom. Ever since a certain irrigation project stabilized the agricultural prospects of the region way back around 200BC. We will look into that too. 

Opening retail stores in Chengdu was a do or die for our business, and we had, I think, six stores at the peak. Those are all gone now, except maybe for one. Can’t say I’m sorry. All things diminish, as the Dao dictates, especially unloved and uncared for things. We never had a store in TaiGuLi, that would have just been ridiculous. TaiGuLi is for the Olympics of retail. Which bring us to… 

Right in the center of TaiGuLi is the Daci Buddhist Temple. It is most accurate to say TaiGuLi was built around Daci, which has existed almost uninterrupted on this site since before the Tang Dynasty. If we think about it, Daci is the founding business that all the TaiGuLi businesses cluster around. As if bowing to the master, the shining glass towers and colorful marketing displays pay homage to the home of the ultimate and ever-green business of selling peace of mind and dreams of immortality. We will visit Daci soon. 

Spending the first afternoon at TaiGuLi turned out to be a good way to get acclimated to Chengdu’s vibe and kick the week off. Every day was going to be exciting. We would see mountains, poet’s childhood homes, the spiritual residence of Laozi himself, a very special animal particular to to this region, and a lot more. 

The Daci Temple

The Business of Buddha 

Can you imagine an Emperor ordering the destruction of all Buddhist temples? Well, it happened, when Emporer Wuzong of the Tang Dynasty issues that order, and the Daci Temple only narrowly survived due the veneration of a previous emporer, Xuanzong, so Daci became the only temple in the region for some time. On such whims existence turns.

Daci Temple is located right in the center of modern TaiGuLi retail park. In fact the modern retail park was built around this ancient retail park. We were spending our first afternoon in Chengdu here getting acclimated and stretching after the morning flight. The forecast threatened rain, but it didn’t happen. We wouldn’t be so lucky on other days, but getting a good roll from the weather gods was a running theme of the week.

I have visited Daci Temple a number of times, most recently 2023 (pictured below). Religions are interesting, though I am not religious. What we believe in, and how these beliefs move through time, coexisting with everything we know, and accepting that we don’t know, about life and reality, contains such diversity and depth. Religions as institutions are survirors, persisting through time, collecting architecture, knowledge, and history. They have something valuable to offer. 

I have to confess that I feel that my knowledge of Buddhism in China is very rudimentary. We join the other motely visitors to Daci, an eclectic bunch. There are people who came to worship, knowing all the ins and outs. There are the casual enthusiasts, knowing some of the history and stories, but like many Catholics who go to church on Easter and maybe Christmas, don’t think about it a whole lot.

We are experience hunters. We want our boys to understand and appreciate the history, respecting the rights of others to believe as they wish, but having a clear mind themselves and making their own decisions. We make our views clear, and are clear about how we developed our beliefs, then they will make up their own minds.

So it is important that we show respect for the temple, those who labor there, and our fellow visitors. I haven’t always lived up to this. For example, the temples prohibit pictures of certain areas, and I’ve gotten away with a few in the past. I don’t consider this a serious infraction, but you won’t find any pictures like that here. I also don’t go through the motions of worshiping anything that I don’t believe in, as I did above in 2023. Not even if the picture would be cool. I am more accepting of others and more relaxed in myself in these environments. 

When I refer to the Business of Buddhism, trying to demonstrate and explain what we saw at Daci, my intention is to be respectful. This might be tricky, walking a fine line, and maybe reading this back years later will feel different.

The Business of Buddhism confronts visitors at every turn, in every corner, in every way, shape, and form. The business accumen of the Buddhists is really something to see. Compared to the Taoist temples, which I will talk about elseware, the Buddhists run circles around them. All religions need revenue to support their missions, and some are more skilled than others. We contend that the Buddhists rule the roost of revenue in China.

It begins with the simplest matter of making a donation, boosted by modern scanning and online payment technology. We have been to other temples, not in use here, where a mounted flatscreen overhead will feature a running list of totals and words of encouragement. We left a small donation. The temple grounds are free to enter. 

These four statues represent Guanyin, Huang Caishen, Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, and “Medicine Buddha”. What you do is “apply gold” as an offering and you get in exchange some combination of better chances at a prosperous career, freedom from disease, a happy marriage, and possibly many children and grandchildren.

I’m muddling through this with google translate, so please do not consider this is not an educated explanation. I recognize Guanyin from The Journey to the West series. In fact, we were told that Tang Sanzang, the main character monk that Monkey King is escorting stayed at this temple for a number of years.

This kind woman was really welcoming and helpful in her willingness to explain the benefits of offering prayers and donations to the gilded statues. There are many benefits, just a few highlighted here. A good deal.

This stand markets basic baubles blessed for different sorts of luck. You can get bangles for your phone or car; bracelets, necklaces, cards with scriptures that bring benefit to the carrier, etc. Perfect gifts for family and friends. Prices are reasonable. We went in for the panda and persimmon pendants. Often the blessings bestowed involve success in education, passing the Imperial Exams, and launching into a great career. 

Towards the back half of the temple, we run into where the big kids play retail. Here, the sky was the limit. Every kind of bracelet, necklace, in combinations of semi-precious stones. The turquoise is particularly pretty, and the red amber look unique. Of course the jade is amazing. There are statues of colored glass, carvings, and castings. One could easily spend tens of thousands of dollars here. 

The final stage of the buying process is a blessing for you and your item. The sales person walks you through the motions to make sure everything is done right. Out of respect I did not film this, nor did I participate myself. 

Funnily enough, this is not my pick for most amazing Buddhist retail environment. That goes to the six floor pagoda in Luoyang’s MingTang Heritage Site. Every floor was retail, including an entire floor of jewelry made from Tibetan red coral and another vast display of very expensive, clean turquoise. 

I have been told that the biggest, best, and most saavy retail experience is in Hangzhou. That is on the Travelogue Wish List.

Lastly, this bracelet is sold at every temple. The 18 beads are all different materials, all corresponding to the 18 realms of Buddhism. The six sense organs, the six dusts, and the six consciousnesses. Among the materials are sugar heart agate, onyx, gold foil glass, amazonite, gold bodhi (wood), blue sandstone, aquamarine, 18 in all. It looks amazing and will go with anything.

We had already gotten ours at the Hanshan Temple in Suzhou. I told you, the Buddhists rule the retail roost. 

I put my chips on Happiness. What’s Long Life and Success worth without Happiness? From the looks of the gilding, each choice has its fanbase.

To each their own.

While researching TaiGuLi and Daci, I turned up this old-ish picture from 2019. This is the lobby of The Temple House, a boutique hotel built on what were formerly part of the original Daci Temple grounds. We were there meeting with an old retail partner discussing potential collaborations. This was just before Covid, and just before I realized that collaborations were the last thing I wanted to do. 

SuDongpo's Childhood Home

Gardens and Poetry in Meishan

To what can our life on earth be likened?
To a flock of geese,
alighting on the snow.
Sometimes leaving a trace of their passage.

SuDongpo is a bright beacon of Chinese culture. The example he set, in my opinion, has towered over and guided every family and individual since. It is actually quite an intimidating proposition to present him in a proper way. How can I begin to describe SuDongpo?

First and foremost, SuDongpo, along with his father, SuXun, and younger brother, SuZhe, are three of the Great Eight Poets of the Tang Dynasty. A legend during his life, his writings, even the smallest comment, letter, or poem, would spread around the country in months, if not weeks. In our time, he would have Swift-level Instagram followers, and the most followers and boosts on Medium.

Everywhere he went, crowds would gather to get his autograph and hear him speak. He had friends and admirers at every level of government and community, even when he was exiled from government, the lowest times of his life. He was a true man of the people, able to converse with the Emperor and the lowliest farmer equally.

My introduction to SuDongpo came in the form of a two-volume biography birthday present. A biography written by that old favorite of mine, LinYutang. Yes, him again. LinYutang, rapidly becoming my favorite author and my guide to the characters of China’s history and culture. I savor his words, marking passages and scribbling notes along the way, and am a slow reader, so that I had not yet finished the second volume before our trip to Su’s childhood home, Meishan, in July. 

Meishan, the hometown of SuDongpo, is described by LinYutang as not a big town but a comfortable place of residence, famous for its lotus flowers and surrounded by rich rice fields, orchards, vegetable gardens, and bamboo groves, thanks to the irrigation system perfected 1300 years earlier by LiPing. That irrigation system continues to work right up to today (more on this in a future article).

We came to Meishan by train from Chengdu. Leaving at 8am, we could arrive at the location known today as the San (Three) Su Shrine by 11am. The museum and grounds are a AAAA-rated attraction and national first class museum. The website for the museum is excellent and worth a look.

Walking about the gardens was dreamlike. The overcast sky and early hour kept the summer heat pleasant, and the nearly constant rain of the preceding week had encouraged every kind of green. Though we shared the gardens with others, the narrow spaces and tight passages let us feel we had the place to ourselves. Imagining that SuDongpo walked these grounds was tempting, though of course like most historical sites, the original buildings, features, and even locations have changed multiple times.

SuDongpo lived here for maybe the first 26 years of his life, leaving to fulfill his destiny of passing the Imperial Examinations and returning to raise his family before entering government roles around the empire. The home and grounds were transformed into an ancestral hall in the Yuan Dynasty (1271–1368) only to be destroyed during wartime in the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644). In 1665, the Qing Emperor had the shrine rebuilt so the scholars and celebrities could pay respect to the Su Family. In January 2018, UNESCO awarded the SanSu Shrine a Cultural Heritage Protection Certificate as a 4A historical site.

One can view the life of SuDongpo and his family as the perfect model for everyone who has come after to follow. Both of his parents dedicated themselves to the boys education and took a leading role. When the father, SuShun, was at the capital taking (and sadly not passing) the exams, it was Su’s mother who took direct control of their education.

At age six, SuDongpo and his brother studied with a Taoist priest and 100 other students, and from 11 was preparing for the exam that would determine a lifetime. From what I can understand, the Imperial Exams are essay writing, to demonstrate command of the language, history, and classics of the Chinese culture. Memorization was a large part, practicing by reciting passages or even entire chapters to the instructors or their father, while he reclined on a couch listening to his sons’ voices. The most serious took on the side quest of copying the entire classics and histories to further guarantee understanding and practice calligraphy.

SuDongpo would pass the exams with the second highest score. The story goes like this: a copy of the essays was prepared to prevent judges from favoring students through recognizing of their handwriting, because of course cheating has always been a thing. The top judge, reading Su’s essay, thought he recognized the style of one of his students, and so as not to show favoritism, mistakenly relegated Su’s essay to second place. Who knows what it is true? Would you like to be the person history judged to put the SuDongpo in second place?

Su valued his education and used what he learned of China’s history and classics every day of his life, but as he often did with a subject, he brought a knowing clarity and a refreshing transparency that cut through the baloney. He wasn’t under any illusions of the efficacy of the education system for choosing the “best men” to lead, when he famously wrote,

Families, when a child is born
Want it to be intelligent.
I, through intelligence,
Having wrecked my whole life.
Only hope that the baby will prove
Ignorant and stupid.
Then he’ll be happy all his days
And grow into a cabinet minister.

What I love about SuDongpo is his irreverence and ability to look around the sides of a subject, seeing the humor, seeing himself, and never holding back.

A fun aside, pictured below is a small grove of Crape Myrtle. Besides their beauty (not in this season!), and the subject of two of SuDongpo’s poems, a small plaque announced that some scenes from The Dream of Red Mansions TV Series (1987)were filmed here. Perhaps this is controversial, but the 1987 series is considered “the good one”, so if you go looking, make sure you’re watching the 1987 series.

Dream of the Red Chamber (Hong Lou Meng) is one of the four great classical novels of Chinese literature. I have watched the show, visited the author’s museum in Nanjing where the stories took place, and own the book. I say own the book, because it is a difficult read that I have started and abandoned twice.

When reading SuDongpo, I humbly feel some connection to his works and experience. Like an ant to an elephant, looking up, but still sharing the same world. It is the common experience for people to believe you strive for meaning and principles in an existence where it seems most things are set against you ever achieving that. Working in government, he talked about serving the good of the people, the struggles of speaking to power, but also about how to enjoy life and get the most out of it for himself. He was just so publicly honest about his life, and we are fortunate enough to have many of his writings as a portal into his world.

Su said once,

“I am always careless in my speech. When I feel something is wrong, it is like finding a fly in my food, and I just have to spit it out.”

I have the same nature. Time and again in business, I said what was on my mind. I couldn’t stop long enough to consider who was listening or how my words would be used against me. Later when given the opportunity, others who saw me as a threat stepped in and ensured I was exiled. But this is not a book, nor imperialist China circa 1000AD, and I am not in exile from anyone or anywhere I choose to be. His life only resonates with mine in familiar ways, as it has with many others over the centuries.

Maybe this is why SuDongpo endures. His genuineness makes him eternally recognizable.

SuDongpo's Adventures

Embracing turbulence and finding peace.

A fragment moon hangs from the bare tung tree
The water clock runs out, all is still
Who sees the dim figure come and go alone
Misty, indistinct, the shadow of a lone wild goose?

Startled, she gets up, looks back
With longing no one sees
And will not settle on any of the cold branches
Along the chill and lonely beach


When we last left SuDongpo (read that article here), we were leaving the gardens of his childhood and entering the unassuming, simply-styled building that signs indicated as the Ancestral Shrine. The gardens, a green maze of winding paths, lulled me into a small town kind of trance, so the lights and polish of the museum interior were a greater surprise than was probably warranted.

The museum is a credit to Meishan, SuDongpo, and his family, but I felt more connected by the story Linyutang’s book was describing. I cannot do the life of SuDongpo justice, other than encourage you to do further research. Try to read his poetry, widely available is many languages, you will not regret it. What I can do here is try to showcase the range of adventures and interests this man experienced in his life.


We must begin with a summary of the places where he lived and worked and chart his rises and falls from power. After succeeding in the Imperial Exams, Su left Meishan and was assigned the position of magistrate, basically adjudicating legal disputes and documentation, rising eventually to what could be called governor of what is now Hangzhou.

In perhaps the best time of his life, young SuDongpo loved, and was loved by, the people of Hangzhou so much so that even today his name is inextricably linked with the region. Visitors to West Lake today should know that Su played a key role in the dredging and design of the shoreline. His poem, Praising West Lake in the Rain;

The brimming waves delight the eyes on sunny days,
The dimming hills present rre views in rainy haze.
West Lake may be compared to Beauty of the West,
Whether she is richly adorned or plainly dressed.


At some point, the emperor made a change of premier to a man named Wang Anshi that precipitated Su’s fall from influence, prosecution on the grounds of insulting the emperor, and banishment to the South as punishment. Just when he was resigned to a simple life on the farm and growing comfortable, a change of leadership and the poor situation of the economy caused him to be recalled to the capital where he held the high-level position of secretary to the Empress and young emperor.

Eventually, enemies in the administration once again forced Su into exile, this time into the harsh backwater jungle of Hainan. He could have easily perished there. Eventually, pressure relaxed, and he was allowed to return home a short time before his death on July 28, 1101.


Walking through the small museum, the impression of Su’s deep influence on Chinese culture is apparent. It is hard to find parallels in other cultures, art, industry, or sport that were as famous in their own time and legendary a thousand years later. He is like a sort of template for life that others may reference regardless of their situation and station. Everything he did, and the feelings he brought to the tasks, is either an examplar for everyone or a cautionary lesson. The more I cast my gaze around, the more SuDongpo’s influence on the modern day becomes apparent. 


Yoga and Alchemy were twin passions for SuDongpo much of his adult life. Both pursuits are related in the Taoist search for immortality. Su studied Taoist and Buddhist philosophy, and followed his more enthusiastic brother SuZhe in his dedication to yogic breathing techniques.

Su describes his nightly practice, controlling his breathing in strict regime including such details as inhaling, holding, and exhaling in a ratio of 1:2:2 for a total of twenty cycles. He would concentrate on the tip of his nose, a mindfulness technique which will be familiar to many. He also practiced, between midnight and dawn, the periodic swallowing of saliva, a Taoist practice directly linked to influencing physiology to extend life.


The Taoist belief that SuDongpo subscribed to speculated that two “pills” are required to ascend to heaven, or achieve immortality. The first pill is formed in the region of the abdomen. The saliva techniques encouraged the formation of this internal pill.

The second external pill was a elixir that alchemists never stopped searching for. The most important element was a mercury compound, so this should begin to sound familiar, the search to transmute base metals into silver or gold. If one could develop this pill, one’s body would surely ascend to heaven, “probably on the back of a stork.”

Su exchanged much correspondence concerning this search and working hands on with the chemistry. He was an early chemist and longevity specialist, a’ la Peter Attia. His writings show a familiarity with chemistry far beyond the novice and a healthy skepticism.


Toward the end of his life, during the final exile to the (then) jungle wilderness of Hainan Island on the very outer edge of then-China, Su found new interest in traditional medicine in response to the hardships.

Su writes about the traditions of the Loi people; their farming habits, the sharing of labor (women hunted while men cared for babies at home), and medical beliefs that revolved around the sacrifical value of cows. These writings are some of the best descriptions of native peoples who did not have much written tradition at the time.

Can we imagine this real exile for a man of sixty who only a few years before had enjoyed the high life of the capital? But he never lost his sense of joy, as he wrote to a friend.

“I still have this material body left, which I have confided to the care of the Creator. I let it go through the eternal cycle, going and stopping whevever the fates decree. So I am ease whatever happens. Don’t worry on account of me.”


A foodie in the truest sense of the word, Su writes about hobby making wine from this or that flower, corn, rice, and the various fruit trees he had cultivated at his many homes over the years as he moved about the territory. He greatly enjoyed entertaining and spending evenings with his friends and colleagues with a bit of drink. Just a bit of drink, as he lamented he could only handle a cup or two. In another instance, he said his limit was “a pint a day.”

The poorest conditions of his life necessitated the best experimenting with different dishes, which he would write of to his brother, SuZhe. Such as a method of boiling sheeps spine in a broth of wine and salt. Or distilling his own wine of cinnamon and honey, though reportedly his friends who drank it has digestive difficulties. But the best example is a pork dish that bears his name to this day, Dong Po Rou, or Braised Pork Belly. I’ve had this dish many times in as many cities. It is rich and special every time.


History is often preoccupied with the exploits of the males in the family. SuDongpo’s mother is credited with being a great steadying and motivating influence on her son’s education and future success, taking over fully when their father was away making his attempt at the imperial exams.

Below is the only reference to Su’s mother and his only sister. A sister who is not named in Wikipedia or in Linyutang’s biography, though there is reference to the circumstances surrounding her early passing. Apparently, she had been married, as was often the case, to a first cousin in her mother’s family. She was thoroughly unhappy there and died under circumstances that greatly upset her father and destroyed the relationship between the families.


The stories surrounding SuDongpo’s sisters do not end here. Legends say that there was a second, younger sister of great talent and beauty, who married a student of SuDongpo, and was also a poet. There is, sadly, no historical basis at all for her existence. 


This earthly life may be likened to a dream,

It may be likened to a bubble;

It may be likened to the dew and lightning,

For all sentient life must be so regarded. 


The search for characters who “understand human nature” has brought me to Laozi, Confucius, Linyutang, Zhuangzi, the Great HanFeizi, and now, SuDongpo. He used his time to the fullest, experiencing much, getting in and out of trouble, living fairly with friends and foes alike, and never once falling for or thinking that he had all figured out. He left us his best at the end of his life at age 64. According to Linyutang,

On July 28, he began to sink rapidly, and his breath grew short. His entire family was in the room. The abbot went very close to him and spoke into his ear, “At this moment, think of the life hereafter!” SuDongpo whispered slowly, “The Western Heaven may exist, but trying to get there won’t help.” Chien (a close friend), who was standing by, said to him, “At this moment especially, you must try.” SuDongpo’s last words were, “It is a mistake to try.”

That was his Taoism. Salvation in this life consists in being natural and unconsciously good.

SuDongpo understood human nature.


Heming Tea House 

100 years of tea by the lake.


Remin Park means “The People’s Park.” There are Renmin Parks in other cities, but I and many others consider Chengdu the Remin Park. Located downtown, the park is 28 acres (100,000 square meters) of greenery, ponds, shaded lanes, and quiet gardens where locals meet to relax, play Mahjong, and of course, drink tea. 

I love this park and I personally insist on being taken here, or taking my family here if you prefer, every time we come to the city. I also stubbornly insist on going to an authentic tea house, because it is an activity for locals and I think it is so cool. I don’t mind the giggles and laughter. Some find my “obsession” with tea houses amusing, and I quote them saying, “tea houses are for old people and foreigners reading Lonely Planet.” 

Renmin Park is open to the public and has always been free of charge. Formally named The People’s Park in 1950, the park has existed in this location as Shaocheng Park since 1911. Heming Teahouse is the largest in the park, and the oldest, more than 100 years. The best tables overlook the lake, but you have to be patient and also decisive to snag a table within the first few seconds of vacancy. 

I gotta be honest, which I always will be; relaxing at Heming isn’t all that relaxing. The tables and chairs are bamboo and closely crammed together. Look at the table below. The crossmember makes it impossible to sit straight, and there is no cushion. In your imagination you picture yourself wiling away the hours, playing cards, looking at the fish and swans, serenely sipping at your tea. But what really happens is my ass went numb and the neighbors started smoking. Damn. 

But I love it anyway. When we come back the next time, and for my family reading this, we will be going back, I can accept as a compromise a table away from the lake or possibly a less famous tea house that is more modest and quiet. A non-smoking section is probably asking too much. 

Food at Heming is small portions, meant to be shared, salty and sweet. One starts with the tea. Sitting down at a table is allowed only after selecting a loose leaf tea. We get a pot and a hot water bottle with enough boiling water to keep us hydrated for hours.

Vendors cluster at the center around their kitchens providing all manner of treats. We went in for glutinous rice balls with red bean in the center, fresh noodles with beef and onions, pork dumplings, spicy thin noodles, fried sticky rice, and pickled carrots. We hadn’t planned to stay long, just grab lunch, so we didn’t go for all the nuts, raisins, sunflower seeds, and so on, that are essential ingredients for a wasted day at the tea house.

One has been on a personal journey of sorts for these five years, and we’ve been to Chengdu three times. You can judge if I show any outward change. Please, be gentle. In 2019, my life had been comprehensively upended. Reading Zhuangzi at Heming, I was putting on a brave face I felt not at all. Four years later, Covid relaxed its grip, and Renmin Park was the first place we thought to go. Reading Linyutang’s “Wisdom of Laozi”, I was thinking I might like to write as well as read. Now, here with SuDongpo, I feel more aware of who I am, and though who I would like to be remains far out of reach, the direction feels right. 

Tianfu Square, on the way to Renmin Park, remembering my first time in Chengdu, a stopover on the way to Lhasa. Maybe 2000 or thereabouts. At the time I didn’t know or appreciate in the slightest what I was looking at, but the memories come flooding back. 

The Mystery Orchid Garden

Secret from me and Google… 

This story starts months before our arrival at Renmin Park. Knowing we would be writing about Renmin Park, I decided to do my due diligence, as the engineers and lawyers like to say. Everywhere we went, I would know the history. I’d know all the influencer hot-spots. For every minute spent organizing, an hour is earned! 

Remin Park is a big place, 28 acres, and my googling pointed to a few things I felt the family needed to see. My Tea House, of course, and really piquing my interest, an orchid garden! I am a total sucker for botanical gardens and libraries, everyone will tell you, so an orchid garden is going top of the list. 

We entered the park on a drizzly morning. Rain was on the forecast all week but we didn’t mind. An umbrella and managed expectations can see you through a lot. The park was so vibrant in layered green, everything was fresh and clean and shining. A sunny day brings in the crowds with it, and local schools off were on the summer holiday, so crowded conditions were a variable we were mentally prepared for. This morning, we felt like the park was ours alone. You forgot the city existed. 

So we start walking. I should have said earlier, we didn’t actually know where the orchid garden was. To be entirely accurate, we didn’t even know IF it was. The travel websites mentioned the orchid garden, but when we searched sites like XiaoHongShu, a popular online travel and experience app, nobody mentioned it! So I was already taking guff for the tea house, and now the phantom imaginary orchid garden. 

Over bridges, up and down hills, checking the signs, no gardens. People are starting to lose patience, to ask “when are we gonna get there?” Even to pine for the Tea House…until we noticed a sign while looking for the restrooms:

Chrysanthemum Garden

Could this be it? Is chrysanthemum a type of orchid? If you know, please share in the comments. I couldn’t get a clear answer. Some tour groups on Google think Yes.

As often happens on the way to what we think we want, we were diverted on our path by an unforeseen sidequest. The old air raid shelter built for the war with Japan has been converted into a memorial and air conditioned shelter from the rain or heat of the day. Entrance is free of charge, like the rest of the park, which is pleasant and left me wishing there was more of that community support. 

In the shape of a three-sided open rectangle, the shelter is decorated with the recent history, economic, and military accomplishments of China. The history lesson was good for our boys. Tables and benches line the walls, providing valuable rest spaces for visitors, particularly the elderly who Remin Park means so much to. 

We made our way to the Chrysanthemum Garden, and thank you very much, my appetite for leisure was satisfied. A tranquil corner, tucked away in a vast park, one felt a million miles away from the city of 18 million just dozens of meters away. We had found what we searched for, at least for today. I have nothing more to say, please enjoy our walk in the garden on a wet June morning. 

Swiping Right At The Park

Can old ways keep up with new pressures?

[Author’s Note: I have tried to respectfully describe the subject below, and have tried to obscure personal information where visible.]

Perhaps it is best to begin by describing what we’re seeing.

As we walk through Chengdu’s Renmin Park, leaving the stepped hills and tea houses overlooking the lotus pools, turning over pleasing memories of the chrysanthemum garden, the tree-lined paths begin to curve gracefully, and we see a splash of bright pink and the murmur of many voices. People crowd around what look like pink rags drying in the sun, but it is raining.

The metal frames and wires stretched vertically hold laminated pink pages crowded with tiny writing, numbers, and official stamps. These are resumes, of a sort, earnest and often desperate pleas for love and companionship. This is the Matchmaking Corner of Renmin Park.

Visitors are welcome to walk and read at leisure. The first thing that strikes me is how many there are. The screens cover an acre at least, and every slot is full. That’s before you notice the older man with the bulging bags of files for applicants that didn’t apply or pay for a space. Or maybe these are the choice leads, the Glengarry leads. For closers only.

The second thing you may notice is who is working the leads. There are two groups looking over the particulars. Casual onlookers like ourselves, and a distinctly more elderly group. Dawn breaks as you realize these are very likely the parents of the applicants. The parents doing the legwork: reviewing the candidates, meeting the prospects’ representatives, perhaps closing the deals. They are heavily invested in the outcome. If two parents think their young people are a potential match, they will arrange a meeting. 

Finally, as you look over the biodata, the diversity stuns and yet forms its own pattern:

Here is a military officer, aged 47, a widower.

Here is a doctor, age 56, 5'8", 74kg; she owns her apartment, 100sm, is divorced, no children.

Here is a Phd professor, aged 68, his elderly parents live in the apartment he owns, where he does not drink. He would like to match with a lady of at least college degree, with a Chengdu hukou.

Here is an oil company professional, 37, a party member, she won’t entertain a partner that plays mahjong or drinks baijiu.

The list goes on endlessly, exhaustively, sharing minute details and stressing the most surprising preferences and red lines. There must be hidden codes. A practiced reader could tell much left unsaid between the lines.

The elderly group peruses the pages carefully, sometimes making notes, and conferring with their fellow shoppers. The younger, casual group points out notable combinations and oddly phrased specifications to their friends. There is some sniggering from that group, at what I think is the earnest implausibility that these activities result in many positive outcomes.

The importance of family, the respect children are expected to have for their parents, and the responsibility of younger generations to look after older generations is deeply embedded in Chinese culture. Even after death, the time spent by the living impacts the quality of the afterlife, so this crosses into the religious. Now modern times have softened old beliefs, but culture is tenacious, and, well, pernicious. Confucius didn’t just talk about culture; he described it, memorialized it, and codified what had long been there.

The Chinese family is entering a new era and feeling new strains. As in many countries, the economic and population boom is passed, the population is getting older and will get a lot more older before anything can happen to change things. Google “demographic collapse” to get a primer on the extreme hand-wringing end of the predictions of what is yet to come.

Every page is the result of an individuals priorities. Chosen by them, or chosen for them, they gave themselves fully over to education, to a career, … and time passed. Some of them might be thinking to throw all their energy into this next phase, but I doubt it.

My sense is the effort is half-hearted. I get that from the specificity, the tiring list of requirements, the absence of pictures, and I get it from those doing the work, the parents. People settle into patterns, growing less flexible, less likely to take a chance. The reported success rate is less than ten percent, but I suspect much lower.

I know that Chinese society will be turned inside out and upside down by the changes coming in the next twenty years. But the upheavals of the previous thirty years were momentous by any standard, and we all survived. The old ways and structures will coexist alongside the new, or we can say the old ways repackaged and technology-powered. Through it all, the Matchmaking Corner of Remin Park will continue to represent elusive hope. 

Living Sculptures

I figured out what to call them. Finally. 

I’ve taken more than my fair allotment of guff already on this trip:

First it was, “We’re going to the Tea House again? That’s for old people!”

Then, over my orchid garden that turned out to be a chrysanthemum garden, “Google doesn’t know everything…”

And now, “Why do you keep saying that Japanese word?”

We are going to the Bonsai Garden in Renmin Park. Those little manicured trees are, to me, “Bonsai Trees”. It can sound a lot like “Bonzai” when pronounced loosely, and that can be unfortunate. But the confusion only starts there. Chinese manicured trees are properly called “Pengjing” or “Penzai”, and there are differences compared to the Japanese Bonsai.

Japanese bonsai trees are miniature trees that are meticulously cultivated and pruned for aesthetics. Chinese penjing are shaped but into more natural forms, and most crucially, usually include landscape features, like rocks, figures, and other greenery.

There are no size restrictions, as I learned today.

This is what I understand (below) to be Penjing and Penzai. See the rock and moss feature built into the display? 

There is a good amount of grey area for the non-expert to be baffled. Is the example below bonsai or penjing? If anyone has experience in this area, please share in the comments. 

A cool feature lining all the paths of the garden were these two alternating symbols. On the left, “penjing” written in the old style. This garden has been a Penjing Garden for a loooong time and won’t go easily or quietly. 

Today though, the garden was perfectly quiet, the few visitors walking silently, passing through or whispering quietly. This is the patient end of Renmin Park. There were no gardeners going about the day’s chores, which was a pity, as I wished to see more of what it takes day to day to shape a tree that will live for hundreds of years. But we could guess a little of what it takes. 

Looking closely, we notice each branch, from trunk to tip, is wrapped tightly in wires. Each twist and turn must be coerced from the tree, against the unconscious imperative to follow some dim “memory” of genetic survival programming.

Reach to the sun. Sink the roots. Hold on to Heaven and Earth.

It is a battle that the tree never surrenders to, never acquiesces to, always resists, and will resist until its end or the end of those who care for it. Yet this process is nature too, for we are just as natural as the tree, and this is a corner of existence expressing itself.

I can overthink it if I like. Nature and the tree are indifferent.

I was surprised to see this little guy, a Gingko tree, a mini version of the towering trees I’ve seen elseware. Like them, this little one is native to China and has been planted since ancient times. The graceful, small, fan-shaped leaves are pleasing to look at. I was shocked to learn that gingko trees are considered an endangered species, which makes me a little sad. 

Gingko trees bring back memories of my hometown in Wisconsin, an odd connection. My grandfather, originally from Switzerland, and my grandmother, from Luxembourg, lived nearby us on the farmland that we shared. My grandpa loved taking care of the land, planting fruit and shade trees, my dad finding mental release from the days at the factory up in the hills clearing brush and dead trees. They made an eighty acre farm into a park.

I distinctly remember them very excited one summer about planting gingko trees. That memory sticks with me, and whenever I run across a gingko, there is a warm memory of what was home. Now I learn that my favorite tree originated in China, where I landed, of all places. What a small world it can be. 

There were some wild projects too. I do not know what is going on here… 

As far as the park’s organizers and the translation services are concerned, Bonsai is the English word that covers all types of sculpted plants. The covered corridor and lotus pond are very nice. Respite from the rain, quiet conversation, or a peaceful forty winks, whatever catches your fancy. I reflect how much time I’ve spent in China and how I should feel about that. I’ve blamed myself and regretted spending my time working and not exploring the culture and traveling, but look, the garden was rebuilt in 2011. Many places we visit now, like Taiguli, Daci Temple, and many others, either weren’t in good condition, were not open to foreigners, or were not even there in some cases!

There is no time like today.

The lotus pond was just outside the garden proper, walking through the arch seen above. The fast growing fish easily bring the crowds that the quiet trees with the tortured shapes do not. Kids were throwing whatever they could get their hands on to the fish, including crumbs, umbrellas, and shoes, while their expasperated parents wished school could restart early. 

My family has found peace and renewed energy in Remin Park three times in five years. I am most proud of us this year, because of our patience and support for each other, for our persistence to experience what the park has to offer, and of myself for taking the time before, during, and after to commit these memories to writing. Like the pictures we take that preserve moments in time, what we write here preserves memories, building a more complete picture of who we were. 

The mystery of the phantom orchid garden has finally been revealed. Unnoticed until the time of writing, next to the Bonsai Garden sign is two little words we somehow missed: Orchid Garden. As we can see now, the Chrysanthemum Garden is not the Orchid Garden. I now think the solution to the mystery is the orchids blooming season: Early Spring. We were late. Oh well, kids, there’s always next year! 

The Four Maidens

The one where we go to the mountains. 

We have a long day ahead of us. By the time we return, we will have driven 450 kilometers on a bus for 10-plus hours and ascended and descended 3800 meters. In exchange for the sixteen hour day, we will experience China’s alpine environment as a family and see views that are possible nowhere else. 

We left the hotel at 5:20am to meet the prearranged bus and tour group booked a few days before. The tour guide was there to make sure we got back safely, to talk us through the history and highlights of the sights, and deliver sales pitches for add-ons and presale pump up for the vendors at the rest stops. He was good at it to, we were all impressed. I needed to hire and evaluate a lot of sales people back in my furniture days, and they were generally rubbish. You would run across a gem, a natural sales person, once in a blue moon. So I knew these guys didn’t just walk onto the job and nothing they said was accidental. 

The bus rumbled up the valley, sticking close to the fast-flowing river that every village was on the banks of. The villages appeared to be mainly driven by tourism and there was a bit of construction, though not too many workers. This is how China has always felt to me, modernity and flash, but only skin deep. One doesn’t have to dig far, or drive long, to reach countryside. 

We eventually climbed out of the valley to the first good viewing spot, stopping to stretch our legs. I’m not sure which of the four peaks this is. It might be Yaomei Feng, the “Queen of Sichuan’s Peaks”, the tallest of the four peaks at 6250m.  

The Four Maidens (Mt. Siguniang) is the highest mountain in the Qionglai Mountain Range. The four peaks that make up Mt. Siguniang are the four sisters, or maidens, of the name. Siguniang National Park includes the mountain and the three surrounding valleys. We are exploring one of these valleys, Shuangqiao.

This valley, and the other two, Changping and Haizi, vary in sights, activities, facilities, difficulty, and time required to experience. We chose Shuangqiao because it is the easiest and the quickest. The valley is not steep, and while visitors can walk up and down the entire valley, buses stop frequently. There are restroom facilities, vending machines, and food vendors at the peak bus station. We have a total of four hours to get off at the top of the valley and navigate our way back.

We were not roughing it in any sense. The challenges were scheduling a tight day and prepping necessary precautions like enough warm clothing. The weather has been unpredictable, except for predictably raining every day of the trip. In Summer, temperatures at the highest end of the valley can drop below 10 degree Celsius. 

This trip is a test. It has been a long time since I’ve done any serious trekking. I may have grown up on the farm, but we’re big city folks now. Would the walking be more than we were used to? Maybe the weather would combine rain and cold and be really miserable?

The altitude was another concern for some of us. I’ve been above 5000 meters, so I personally know what shortness of breath at altitude feels like, but nobody else has. It can be a bit worrying, not helped by aggressive sales pitches and safety disclaimers that accompany every piece of Siguniang content. They want you to buy “oxygen” canisters, pills for altitude sickness, and vitamin drinks (basically 24hour energy) to fortify the uninitiated against an over-reaction to the thinner air.

When I came to Asia, The Eco-Challenge was a big thing. Anyone remember The Eco-Challenge? I was inspired to do a lot of hiking around HongKong and trekking in New Zealand because of that show.

I went to Nepal (twice) hiking around the Everest region and Annapurna. No snow climbing stuff, just hiking up and down some very large hills. I’ve also been to Llhasa in Xizang (Tibet) twice. The elevation at Llhasa is 3656m. Stepping off the plane from Chengdu (200m), you really feel the breathlessness for a few hours.

But I am far removed from the Paul that hiked to Namche Bazaar in Nepal and Mt. Doom in New Zealand. That guy put wear and tear on his knees and left me with a healthy caution for steep declines.

Some ways down the valley was the next location, centered around hillsides that really reminded me of a less steep Airolo, Switzerland or a more steep West-Central Wisconsin. Visiting a place like this is like hitting refresh for your spirit. Even the greenest city with the tallest buildings are a pale imitation of what nature throws up all on her own. 

In this final location, the valley opens up, spreading the river out into a marshy lake. A light drizzle began to fall. The weather had been supportive of us throughout, but as the departure time neared, the skies began to gently remind us it was time to get back to the bus. 

The day was a positive for everyone. Returning late, everyone crashed as you do after a long day of fresh air and activity. We will return to Siguniang and explore the other valleys, push our trekking skills, and experience and overnight in the mountains. Maybe even try camping under the stars? We might be able to see stars here. I haven’t seen the stars in a very long time. 

I have few pictures of my youthful adventures. That’s me in the middle, flanked by two John Wick cosplayers (my brother in yellow and a friend). What I remember about that trip is being frustrated by the weather and unable to go to Base Camp, so we ended up settling for the Annapurna Region. This is a bit higher elevation than the Four Maidens. 

Dujiangyan Irrigation

Wait! Don’t go, its cooler than it sounds. 

Growing up in the Midwest, where small towns fill every valley and “crick” (creek), my brothers and I learned from Dad that if you dig deep enough, there is a reason all these little towns exist. Good construction timber or stone, a river to transport goods, a railroad junction, some purpose led people to start a community. This applies outside the Midwest, and it applies to towns bigger than those in rural Wisconsin.

The Irrigation Works on the Minjiang River are a AAAAA-rated historical site, and that’s no joke. Know what might be a joke? These Irrigation Works claim to be a more important engineering feat than Beijing’s Great Wall.

Those are fighting words. Let’s see if we can be the judge.

We were in Dujiangyan on a day trip, 70 kilometers from Chengdu. The irrigation works were the final stop of the day and we had been dodging ever-intensifying rain from the get-go. I was dragging more than I like to admit by this time. Negotiating the crowd, the rain, just knowing where I was half the time, demanded every bit of my attention. Since I had work to do, and relying on your commitment to me and this series, please accept this map and some homework.

The map above shows the yellow route, and (#) I’ve added in the picture captions refer to the numbers on this map. The short 6-minute video below explains the history and engineering behind the project. It is fantastic, easy to understand, and I highly recommend it. Everything that follows will make more sense after, so please, pause here and watch this first.

Once through the gate and the lines for tickets, you walk up these steps and the senses are overwhelmed by the crashing water, the low clouds, and the mist of the river rapids combining to give a ghostly haze that obscures everything. Everything you see is old, very old. Unlike many other historical sites that fall into disrepair, are rebuilt, get destroyed by conflict only to be rebuilt again, these channels and the dams have operated unceasingly, in this very spot, for 2300 years. You feel that, you feel it like no other place. 

The crowding was intense throughout. Crowds make me uncomfortable if unexpected and I was thrown for a loop here. This is a 5A historical site and local schools had left off for summer holiday. I got turned around and for the longest time thought I was at (2) looking south to (6). 

The bridge swayed and bounced a little, but most people would be fine crossing. Once we got onto the dam, walking from (5) to (3) was so pleasant. Ordered rows of firs and walkways hinted at the lack of any old structures here until modern times. I guess tourists weren’t allowed here until recently. 

Then a second rope bridge over the 40% flow channel from (3) to (2). This bridge was a bit more adventurous, bucking up and down, swaying left and right. A loudspeaker blaring on repeat instructions in chinese to “Keep moving! Do not stop to take pictures!”

As we made the crossing, the rain stiffened its assault.

Now, the final leg, stairs. Everybody has umbrellas and rain coats. We keep asking ourselves, are we at the top yet? The Qufu temple probably has a unique history but I didn’t have the energy to properly care. Finally, we reached the top, Qinyan Tower, from where you can see the entire irrigation works. Wet, tired, we set off for home. 

Are the Dujiangyan Irrigation Works greater than the Great Wall of China? It is difficult to judge. The Great Wall may have taken longer, required more manpower and cost more, but LiBing’s project is still working 2300 years later in largely the same way it was designed, and the Great Wall hasn’t repelled an invader for centuries. The taming of the Minjiang River brought the Chengdu plain under control for people to live safely and created the economic miracle that allowed the Qin to conquer the other kingdoms and unite China. Would China exist today without it? 

The Bookstore Inspired by an Irrigation Project

Follow me into cyclopian spaces.

Visiting cool, photogenic bookstores is becoming my brand. I want it to be my brand. If we can invest a portion of our lives doing things that bring us joy, and sharing that with others, what more could the universe ask of us? When I heard of a must-see bookstore in Dujiangyan, I put it to the family that we needed to go. So, in between the 5A-irrigation works and the Panda Breeding Center (I know, next week!), we popped in to see the Zhongshuge bookstore. 

This small bookstore appears cathedral-like on the interior, thanks to the mirrored ceiling and the curving bookcases that appear to have no pattern or orientation. I quickly lost my bearings and felt as in a maze without exit. There are no corners anywhere in the design (Lovecraft would approve) and supposedly this is inspired by the Irrigation works the city is famous for. Perhaps the curve of the “fish mouth” dam that splits the Minjiang river? Honestly I don’t see the connection. What I do see is the bamboo inspiration for the bookcases, with their segmentation and lighting features. 

Zhongshuge was designed by Shanghai architecture firm X+Living and opened in 2020. X+Living has partnered with Zhongshuge on a dozen projects around China, all different but equally innovative. They believe that competition with the online giants is possible, and I sincerely hope they give them a push.  

As quickly as we arrived, it was time to go. The boys were impatiently waiting for us downstairs. The food we’d bribed them with wouldn’t last long. My wife had come with me. I always have her support. Leaving was a real challenge, I got seriously lost!

The mall the bookstore is in was basically dead, that’s the funny thing. China had a boom of mall construction and many have been struggling. Some restaurants were doing well enough, but fashion shops were empty and many spaces were unclaimed. Dujiangyan is a third tier city. The bookstore had traffic, many just like us, getting some air conditioning before braving the crowds at the dam. I wish Zhongshuge the best of luck with their plans for the future. Like all businesses, the flash will only get them so far.

Time for Pandas!

What we’ve all been waiting for. 

[Author’s Note: This article shows animals in captivity. While these endangered furballs require our protection and support, and are loved and cared for, a zoo is a zoo.]

Giant pandas are loved by everyone. Who couldn’t immediately fall in love with those roly-poly, fluffy, white and black faces, munching serenely on bamboo? The ultimate goodwill ambassadors for China. The Superman of soft power. Seeing pandas in person comes close to the top of the S tier list.

Visitors to Chengdu can see pandas at the Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding 40 minutes from downtown. We were there in 2019. It’s nice, though crowded and the pandas not always too visible. Pandas tend to sleep most of the day away.

But there are many places to see giant pandas, 40 reserves to be exact. Not all are accessible to visitors of course, and many serve a variety of functions that don’t include tourism, but there is a Giant Panda Base in Dujiangyan that is considered as good as the one in Chengdu. So we set off to arrive early and see the pandas up and about enjoying breakfast. Everyone else in a hundred mile radius had the same idea. 

The park allows visitors to wander or be picked up by golf carts around the roads surrounding the panda enclosures. Each enclosure had one or two pandas. Pandas are introduced by a plaque that showed the panda’s name, date of birth, sex, and where it had lived before. You can see this information in the picture captions. Many of these pandas are older, female, and could not survive in the wild. Sick or injured pandas rescued from the wild are also rehabilitated here. 

The pandas were putting on a show, going about their business. Their business is laying about, dexterously peeling bamboo to eat the soft cores, and just looking very contented. I have never heard a panda’s voice and never witnessed a panda grumpy with another panda. When they move, it is only to shift from one relaxing position to another of equal or better comfort. This is as active as a panda gets. 

Panda conservation began in the 1940s, but the road to full protection has been long. Land was set aside for habitat in the 1960s, but logging was only banned in 1998. Understanding the life cycle and habits of these animals has been slow and taken many years of hard work under harsh conditions.

The panda’s natural terrain is as remote as you can imagine. Fir and bamboo forests growing on steep cliffs. We rode the bus through some of this terrain on the way to Siguniang, and other than the road following the river valley, there cannot be any paths on those cliffs. It is impossibly remote. The rangers who dedicate themselves to studying wild panda behavior are amazing individuals.

Pandas eat only bamboo. This specialization puts them at risk. Bamboo groves flower every 4 to 10 years and then die off. Pandas will stay in one location until the food is exhausted, and then move to where the next flowering bamboo is. Roads get in the way, and deforestation interrupts the bamboo life cycle. The old growth fir trees that the logging industry targets provide important shade to the young bamboo. So while the territory of the panda is remote, it is large and very sensitive to disruption. 

The less famous, smaller Red Pandas are equally cute. We only saw this one, the others were all hiding, perhaps from the rain but more likely from the loud school children. That was a bummer, but is the luck of the draw. I appreciated this pudgy guy braving the rain for us. He had the look of one who drew the short straw. 

Red pandas are classified as endangered. There are 2500–10,000 left in the wild. Once classified as related to racoons, and later, related to bears, now DNA suggests that red pandas should be classified as their own family. Red pandas are not related to giant pandas. They both eat bamboo, but red pandas have a more varied diet of fruit, insects, and also a wider territory that stretches further into the Himalayas. 

There are only 1800 pandas in the world. Their specialization and sensitiveness to habitat encroachment makes them very vulnerable too extinction. Their physical attractiveness to humanity is now their greatest strength and what will keep them going. Looking at them rolling around, I forget that these are wild animals. A grizzly or black bear are cute and look like they would welcome a hug, but something instinctual tells us that would be the mother of all bad ideas. Does a panda give you that feeling? 

These two were the last pair on the route. Most pandas were solitary, but here was a mature female with a two year old male, not her offspring. Maybe they were together in hopes of something happening? Or perhaps because nothing like fighting was going to happen. Actually, An Bao was the only male we saw all morning. My guess is there are hopes something will happen. 

I feel I should have some clever to say, something about the effortlessness of being a panda, about acceptance. Acceptance of their fate, of nature’s momentum. We should devote a few minutes a day to living the panda’s life. Find whatever position is most comfortable, regardless of who or what might be watching. Pick an activity, a beverage, a favorite snack, a book, an app, and just disappear into the moments. For as long as we can. 

DuFu's Thatched Cottage

China’s Shakespeare and Most Epic Beard.

DuFu is one of the great Chinese poets of the Tang Dynasty. The site of his tiny thatched cottage where he spent four years in 759AD avoiding the Anshi Rebellion, is now a 4A Scenic Spot and National Top Level Museum. We were here on the last day of our weeklong trip in Chengdu. He is compared to Shakespeare in his masterful use of language and his poignant descriptions of the hardship and suffering of the common people. 

We were here on the last day of our Chengdu vacation, the last drizzly day. One lesson to file away is the impact on historical sites of local schools getting off for summer holiday. There is a quiet period of two to three weeks between international and local schools semester end. Travel in those two weeks to avoid most crowds. After school is out, then you learn which locations hit the sweet spot for parents. SuDongpo in Meishan is perhaps a bit out of the way, while Dufu is easily accessible for Chengdu parents and his status as a literary figure makes him must-see. 

I knew very little of Dufu before visiting his thatched cottage. The Daodejing led me to Linyutang, which led me to SuDongpo, and it so happens that his home/museum is close to Chengdu. That’s how it goes sometimes. I did not know what to expect from Dufu here but was happily surprised to find the buildings that interspersed the garden each have an individual character that was engaging and fresh. The first building offered original manuscripts and copies of Dufu’s collected poems in many languages. 

Everyday heroes, like the above Mr. Li Yiming, take risks, even their own comforts and freedoms, to preserve these original works. As the story above explains, Li came across this collection of Dufu in a Beijing bookstore in 1964. He immediately purchased the collection for the DuFu estate here. When this was discovered, his motives were unclear, and a vigorous debate arose over what was to be done. Even the Ministry of Culture got involved, but Li Yiming stood strong, saying, “there is nothing they could do about it.” Before long, opinion turning, even prestigious restorers worked on the collection and central leaders were invited to leave inscriptions, making this copy of DuFu’s works even more unique. 

A little known, but very impactful event in DuFu’s early life was his shocking failure in the Imperial Examinations. The exams allowed entry into the civil service, just about the only way to achieve a prosperous career and achieve any notoriety at the time. DuFu’s genius was already evident and he was expected to “ace” the exams, but history only records that he failed, not the reasons. Perhaps his prose was too adventurous and unique for the standards of the time, or perhaps he did not have the right connections at court. For whatever reason, this unexpected turn brought DuFu into contact with poverty. 

He was still able to secure a position as a minor official until he was forced to flee the An Lushan Rebellion that ended the first Tang Dynasty. It was during these four years that Dufu produced 240 poems, a great output for anyone. He often wrote about the suffering of the common people, the impact of war on society, and the melancholy of loss, such as in, “The Gates of the Wealthy”:

Behind the gates of the wealthy
food lies rotting from waste
Outside it’s the poor
who lie frozen to death.

A familiar refrain beyond time and culture. Are we destined to suffer inequality?

Or in “Day’s End”:

Oxen and sheep were brought back down
Long ago, and bramble gates closed. Over
Mountains and rivers, far from my old garden,
A windswept moon rises into clear night.

Springs trickle down dark cliffs, and autumn
Dew fills ridgeline grasses. My hair seems
Whiter in lamplight. The flame flickers
Good fortune over and over — and for what?

There are themes of change and aging, feeling far from home, surrounded by peaceful beauty, but still questioning what is all this good fortune for? The great poets are able to express ideas that we — I — cannot.

DuFu lived in poverty during his time here, even close to starvation. One notices in all paintings and statues how slight his figure is. His expression is always drawn and severe. His concerns are immediate. As we can see in this special art gallery presenting the works of Wu Weishan. DuFu is placid yet always in motion, austere yet inspiring. 

The Thatched Cottage had one more surprise crafted to excite just me. For no obvious reason at all, a display of wood-working tools, materials, and construction techniques was attached to the gift shop building. This might be exciting only to me because I worked in furniture and home decoration for well close to thirty years, from the age of 16. This was a random and unexpected delight that I got to nerd out on.  

Old construction techniques that did not use any pegs or nails were explained and shown in detail. The intricacy of the pieces and the precision necessary to plan, craft, and assemble this combination of large and small parts is almost incomprehensible. I’m old enough to have trained drafting on blueprints by hand. I even know what a slide rule is. My brother is a construction engineer, and I think even he might be challenged to replicate some of these calculations. This was a great treat I was very glad to see. 

They even had very authentic looking tool sets that were the only implements used to make these towering temples, towers, and pagodas. My Grandpa worked in home construction while Dad was growing up, and both were engineers of the mechanical variety. Starting to see how the males of our family got into engineering? 

There were displays showing the thirty types of lumber used in the construction of buildings and furniture at that time up the present day, and a beautiful selection of carved art pieces. This was the highlight of DuFu’s Thatched Cottage for me. 

Qingyang Palace

Current residence of one Laozi.

Qingyang Palace is our last stop in the Chengdu series and my favorite Daoist temple. There are many Daoist temples, and I have visited only a small number, but I think you will see why I feel closest to the Dao here.

The Qingyang Palace is easy for Chengdu residents and visitors to find. Located in the heart of the city, an eight-minute drive from the gardens of Renmin Park, twelve minutes from Taiguli, with metro stations disgorging visitors mere meters from the entrance, one would expect to share the grounds with crowds of Laozi fans.

But no, as if protected by a bubble of unconcern, Qingyang is quiet and peaceful. Not deserted, nor uncared for, but entirely comfortable in its confidence. After standing in line to see pandas laying about, and waiting to pounce on a choice table at Hemin Teahouse, I cannot help but breath deeply, exhaling the concerns of past days and wonder, what was the fuss all about?

Majestic gingko trees line the central path. My favorite tree, which I will forever associate with pure (non-work-related) memories of Wisconsin, and Laozi. Today it was not raining, the clouds only purpose to shelter us from the sun, as if to give us a reward for persevering. I want to spend hours here without expectations and nothing to do. Someday I will.

A pavilion sits amid the central pathway, an octagonal structure called the Eight Trigrams Pavilion. The eight pillars are decorated with dragon motifs, a statue of Laozi rests in the center space. Out of respect for the signs, I didn’t take any pictures, though I can’t see why this matters. What piques my interest is the construction, which is reportedly without nails or pegs. Built using the old methods in 1873, the structure has survived severe weather and earthquakes without effect. I gave the exterior beams a good looking over with my “engineers eye” and didn’t see anything suspicious. 

Legend says that Qingyang Palace is located here because Laozi himself visited once, riding in on a black goat to speak about Taoist scriptures. When he had to leave before finishing, he said he would return in 1000 days to complete the task, which of course he did, so the palace was built in dedication to him. The Tang Emperors were real believers in Laozi and came here to celebrate his birthday, on the 15th day of the second lunar month. This is a different day on the modern calendar every year. In 2024, it was March 24. Next year (2025), this is March 14, so mark your calendars and we can celebrate together. 

Moving along the path to one of the main buildings, the soft tones of a distant flute play along with the movement of the leaves. The melody was soft and hesitant, there and then again not, so one would wonder where it was coming from. I couldn’t recognize the tune, as if the musician knew when the melody was being noticed and receded from consciousness. How uncommon, I thought, for a temple to pipe music into the environment. We didn’t have long to find out. 

Inside, wrapping around the perimeter and statues at the center, is the only shopping experience offered at Qingyang. Here at the only shop in the only temple where I could easily be gulled to buy anything, one is almost gently cajoled to let it go. The glass cases of baubles, beads, and loosely bound books might only be there for appearance, as are the bored salespeople watching a favorite series on their phones. Like the background of a set, they are only here for atmosphere.

The sound of the flute gains strength here, and as I turn the corner, a mystery resolves. Here’s a little lady practicing her flute, her open song book on the table. I had to laugh and discreetly get her picture, out of consideration for her reverie. Who can say what she was supposed to be doing here, wearing her light blue shawl, but she was comfortable enough to indulge her flute hobby, unconsciously weaving a uniquely calming element to the setting. How just like a Daoist to not be concerned with the external world of schedule and duty, and simply follow what the nature of her heart tells her!

Our next stop is Sanqing Hall, guarded by two “goats” that are the namesake of Qingyang Palace. Sitting confidently and assuredly, and why wouldn’t he be, the goat on the left is Laozi himself. Yes, Laozi transmogrified into a goat at some point and decided to make the palace his home. This is benevolent therianthropy. 

Not to be outdone, a closer look at the goat on the right reveals that this is not a goat at all but a conglomeration of twelve animals. Can you see them all? The elements are: mouse ears, ox nose, tiger claws, rabbit mouth, dragon horn, snake tail, horse face, goat beard, chicken eyes, dog belly, and a pigs thighs.

Why am I inappropriately massaging the rump of this creature? Legend says that rubbing the different parts can release pain in the corresponding part of your body, and my hips have been bothering me… we actually waited in line to get our turn. The worn surfaces show where people have the most hopes for relief.

A visit to Qingyang is not all unconsciously connecting with nature, there is one decision to make. I made up my mind quickly, as I did at Daci, putting my chips on Happiness. What is the use of Long Life and Success without Happiness? There is, naturally, no right or wrong, and you can vote as many times as you like. Come to think of it, I should have spread my votes around a bit… 

Finally is this terraced structure with two dragons meeting in the middle. Up the stairs and to the right is the teahouse that I have to arrange time to wile away an afternoon in someday. To the left and up some stairs is a small temple with the most mesmerizing paintings. 

The meetings between Confucius and Laozi are literally legendary and I’ve written about two speculations (here and here) on what they talked about. Here is an artists idea of what one of those conversations might have looked like. Laozi sits calmly, and Confucius, dressed to the nines, approaches him in an idyllic setting of mountains and streams. What I noticed most is Confucius’s appearance. Despite the intervening centuries, descriptions of Confucius are so consistent. This is what he looked like. Taller than average, big boned, a large man, and not what was considered an attractive man at the time. His statue in Nanjing and his description by Linyutang closely resemble this painting. 

I was really pleased to run across this, the very first painting of Zhuangzi I believe I have ever seen. He looks exactly like you could imagine from his writing; charming, funny, and expressive. A joy to sit and listen to — maybe that’s me sitting on the rock. 

Here is the origin story of the Qingyang Palace, Laozi returning from somewhere on his cloud, turning into the black goat that spiritually resides in the bronze goat in front of Sanqing Hall. Strangely, these last two paintings are on the exterior walls of the small temple, only protected by slight overhangs.

Before we go, on the top of the landing outside the dragon pavilion, someone has arranged a potted garden of cactus-type plants, in the most purposelessly conspicuous way possible. As if a person with a taste for gardening brought their hobby to the temple to brighten up the environment just that little bit. No signs, no pithy sayings to tell us how to feel or think.

Qingyang Palace is like stopping by for a chat, seeing a neighbour's garden and overhearing an unexpected flute practice. The best moments in our existence are unplanned and unlooked for. We need not try to make our lives special, we are by nature always significant.

This is the last entry in the Chengdu 2024 Series. I made promises to myself since the Jingdezhen trip: to not over-schedule, to research and plan locations in advance, and to roll with the unexpected. We worked well as a family, and I’m pleased with what we learned and experienced together. A few new lessons come to mind…

Thank You for your time, attention, and encouragement. I started Chapter One wondering if anyone cared, and now, 100 plus articles later, I continue because I know that you do. We are experiencing this story together.

Tai Kiu Wet Market

How did 30 years go by? 

We don’t visit Hong Kong as often we used to. That might seem odd, with the border being literally within a longish walk or a short bike ride away from our home, but there just aren’t many compelling reasons to make the trip these days.

This day was special because we needed to pick up our son’s new Hong Kong ID card. Yes, he is now old enough that he doesn’t need his parents to vouch for him. I shed a little tear. He was at school, so we were picking the card up for him at the Yuen Long Government Offices. Situated in a rather dilapidated looking building, the offices were above the Tai Kiu Market. Hong Kong government offices aren’t housed in glamorous digs.

Our mission accomplished (Yay!) we decided on a quick look at the market. It felt like going back in time. My life of polished supermarkets and online shopping made me forget that this was the way everything was found in “the old days”. So I got to thinking about my old days of Hong Kong, Shenzhen, Dongguan, and the mad rush to make the better life of today that all of us were occupied with. So welcome to Story Time…

Where did the time go… Hong Kong has certainly been through some changes. 1997 was the Year of the Handover. Britain was leaving. China was rolling in. Some thought it was going to be the end of the world. The end of Hong Kong, at least.

Hong Kong was the first major Asian city I flew into. I remember old Kai Tak airport, where the planes really did bank around buildings to land, and pilots really did need a special license to land there. I had never seen so many people so close together. Despite that, Hong Kong was an oasis of western comforts. We would get one month tourist visas for the China mainland that we would renew every 28 days while we worked day and night. There were no business visas at the time, so technically everyone was working illegally. But everyone was making it up as they went along, and everyone knew it.

When we took a weekend (once a month), we would catch the FuYong Ferry to Hong Kong’s TST district directly, allowing us to skip going further south through Shenzhen and the awful downtown LoWu border crossing. The traffic and the lines at the LoWu border were just horrific, the cleanliness not at all what it is today. Anyway, we’d float direct into TST and check right into the ShangriLa Hotel. Those were the good old days when the ShangriLa didn’t even cost $100 a night. Now it’s $400 at least. Now that I think of it, the ShangriLa in Surabaya, Indonesia was $60 a night. Can you believe that? I loved staying there. 

We worked with all kinds of ownership styles and nationalities in China. That was one of my ‘talents’, being able to work with anyone, from anywhere. I didn’t carry any limiting prejudices into the business relationships, as was often the case with those I competed against in other trading companies. Taiwanese wanted to work with Taiwanese, that sort of thing. Each had their own business and philosophical styles. And everyone placed working with Americans at the top of their list. 

I remember the Taiwanese really went for it. Big investments, breakneck growth, military management style. Their handicap was being too eager to trade today for tomorrow. They went for deals that gave up more than necessary. The Hong Kong guys invested more cautiously, reinvesting as they went, but their weakness in negotiating was not being able to reach long term arrangements. The profits had to be there on every order, and high profit too, or they wouldn’t budge. They lost a lot of momentum and business over their stubborness to the Taiwanese, and later, to Chinese business owners. I could go further, into the Malaysian, Singaporean, Indonesian, and Indian approaches, but maybe let’s save that for another day. 

China had few comforts at that time. The only soda was Coca-cola, and a lot of the time it was counterfeit. McDonalds was the only fast food and I dipped into that often. We were advised to avoid the local restaurants. Often it was time and convenience. Factory owners always — without fail— offered to buy meals, but if you accepted, there went two to three hours of your day or night. We were warned to not trust smaller or street-side restaurants because we could get seriously ill. In those early days, we would often eat in the car. Traffic and roads were such that what would today be thirty minutes took three hours. Infrastructure could never keep pace with an economy doubling every two or three years. 

For a long time after the handover, the crowds crossing the border between the mainland and Hong Kong were overwhelming. The Hong Kong streets were literally shoulder to shoulder. I don’t think people expected the interest of the Chinese to travel freely. Jewellery and fashion were big business. I remember jewellers saying that 90% of their business had become cross border trade. And it wasn’t just high end fashion, there were runs on milk powder and diapers. Any mishap in the mainland industries would spark a run and there would be people queuing at the border pulling carts of milk powder, and then there would be regulations on how many cans a person could carry each trip. We bought all out milk powder for our first born in Hong Kong and carried it across in suitcases like everyone else. 

Yes, we chose to have our first in Hong Kong. Despite the time, risk, and general hassle of border crossings, we felt the level of expertise and care was worth the trouble. It’s a personal decision. By the time of our second pregnancy, women were being stopped and turned back at the border. Too much demand and not enough doctors and beds, that’s what they said. Hong Kong had changed the laws. I was quite angry over that decision. Our second was in a Guangzhou hospital where the staff did a great job. I’m still mad about it though. 

As my career took more of my time, Hong Kong became a transit point for a perpetual cycle of travel around Asia, checking in on the trading offices and visiting suppliers. Fast forward to 2019, the career train shuddered to a halt, and then covid locked us all down for four years.

Now when I go to Hong Kong, I go as a local species of tourist, running errands, not so familiar, but not in awe of anything. Hong Kong feels old, sort of stuck in the past, compared to China with all the flashy tech and newness everywhere. In China, I haven’t handled paper money in years, but here the red taxis get paid in bills.

The flow of business has changed. Hong Kong residents crowd the border coming into Shenzhen every morning, but particularly the weekends. They’re shopping at Costco, at local vegetable markets, to avoid Hong Kong inflation. Shenzhen is cheap by comparison. They’re coming on the weekends to be entertained for less. Nobody would have predicted that in 1997.

In the other direction, young Chinese IT professionals are forsaking the brutal work culture of Shenzhen for the more regulated working conditions, albeit for lower pay, in Hong Kong, commuting across the border daily. The Hong Kong government is officially encouraging immigration to Hong Kong. Another twist.

Ten minutes and three decades later, we walked out of Tai Kiu Market, and with our documents, left the Yuen Long Government Offices behind. Mind and feet pointed firmly toward the future. 

Unscheduled HIIT On Yinhushan

Finding wilderness in the big city. 

Yinhushan means “Silver Lake Mountain”. You can find it sticking up above Luohu District in Eastern Shenzhen on the road leading to the Nankeng Reservoir. Shenzhen has a good number of diverse mountain parks. We were looking for our second first-time experience after Tanglangshan. If you’ve read our experience (here), that was an almost bespoke, even manicured, experience of paved roads, modern restrooms, and mid-trek monkey distractions. There was even a coffee-serving van near the peak. Tanglangshan is safe for all ages and fitness levels. Yinhushan promised a more primitive experience, just what we were looking for. Trail guides promised mostly dirt trails, and cautioned hikers to carry enough water at the start. The four of us, my wife and our two boys, let out, seeking fresh air and a bit of exercise. 

Finding these trailheads on the edges of the city is always a bit of a hunt. I feel like we begin in the center of modern development and safety and move to the outskirts, peeling away the opulence and wealth, almost moving backwards in time. You will see Shenzhen as it was 25 years ago, squat, stained, tile-faced apartment blocks with iron bars covering the windows and balconies. Cracked pavement and cramped parks where the retired elderly play cards, dance in large groups, and debate in small groups. It feels like village life. The towers of Ali Center, the yacht clubs of Shekou, might as well be 1000 miles away. Then there it is, past the kids playing in the school yard, and the car wash and repair, just a steep concrete ramp with a worn signpost. 

The concrete quickly gave way to a plain dirt road. Easy walking, even a biker would find it little challenge. This picture reminded me of a farmer’s path in the Flowers of Wuyuan, a path leading to the unknown, revealing nothing of what lies ahead. I like these moments. You cannot see what is ahead, only the possibilities. 

Before long, a large map announced we had reached the real entrance of the park. Yinhushan is quite big, with many possible routes of varying difficulty. Our route today didn’t have a real destination like a peak or a rest area. Yinhushan is not that kind of mountain. Hikers pick a loop or a start and end point and march until they complete it. Or die trying, I suppose. Our route today was ten kilometers, give or take. 

Hiking with my family is a great time for me. Doing anything with them is really my favorite thing to do. As we walk, most of what we talk about is how big they are getting and so fast. We share memories of earlier adventures. Mostly the boys don’t remember. Like the time we went to Nanshan Mountain, which is two hours of concrete steps up and down. Like a stair master session from hell. Our youngest wasn’t even three, and he insisted on walking up and down the steps, never giving up or complaining until he couldn’t safely navigate the stairs, and I carried him the rest of the way down. We laugh about it now, but we took our babies all over the world, strollers, diapers, and all, but for what? They don’t remember any of it! Anyways, we remember. 

We got to the immediate summit and noted the sign pointing the way to the entrance, seven kilometers away. Then I had one of those moments that reminds me how memories and experiences repeat. I said to the boys, “Now that we’re at the top, we will just go across the ridge, all the way around,” meaning that the trail would keep to the ridge joining the smaller peaks until returning to city level at the end. Nothing special to notice, but this was exactly what my Dad said to us when he took us on weekend walks around the Wisconsin hills. That was 40 years and 12,000 kilometers ago. Then I was them, now I am him.

And now Yinhushan began to show its hand. The path began to climb, only to send us back down minutes later, on repeat, as we moved along the ridge from one minor peak to the next. We saw few other hikers. The ones we saw, individuals or in pairs, appeared well prepared for a full day on the mountain: layers to protect from sun or rain, hiking boots, and trekking poles. They quickly fell behind or passed by and disappeared ahead, preserving the feeling of isolation as we toiled up and down, up and down.

Luckily the day was sunny and clear. Rain would have made Yinhushan a dangerous risk not worth taking. We could see how every path becomes a stream, the erosion lines clearly visible. Some inclines were steep enough to require rope railings.

As we hiked we began noticing the silence. After you realize the absence of birds or insects chirping, you never fail to not notice it. We did not see or hear any wildlife all day. Even the noises of the city fell away. We felt isolated with only the path ahead. The effect was eerie and mildly disorientating instead of calming. It is the kind of path that makes you wonder if you took a wrong turn and are still going the right way.

Though we did not stop, I paused long enough to catch pictures for later study of the few explanatory signs we came across. This one introduces the lotus tree, an evergreen favored for its strong fire resistance. No tree is fire proof, but high moisture content, compact structures, and absence of oils, makes some species useful as passive fire retardants. The lotus tree is planted in fire prevention belts by parks just for this purpose. The wood is also popular for building beams and pillars in ancestral halls in ancient times, I guess likely for the same reasons. When I visit temples from now on the lotus tree will come to mind. 

The above describes the yellow wolfberry plant. The seeds have the wings that “helicopter” glide on the wind, spreading the seed widely. The bark fiber is used to make a kind of cotton and ropes, the poisonous leaves can be used to control crop pests, and the wood is used in furniture. I don’t remember wolfberry from my furniture days, and I bought a lot of furniture from Southern China. Maybe it was there. I cannot tell, every online search for “yellow wolfberry” talks only about the yellow goji-like berries and their many uses as an herb in Chinese medicine. If you want your kidneys healthy and your yin and yang balanced, look up Chinese wolfberry. 

The drudgery continued, going on like this for hours. Four hours, to be exact. And true to Dotta family form, we barely stopped for breaks. This is just what we do, we over do, over do until the thing is not fun anymore, not tasty anymore, not enjoyable anymore. Is this hereditary? At least I am aware of my tendency to pile on and bite off more than I can chew. Now the next step is to overcome the urge. 

In one section we encountered a work crew placing new steps on a steep section damaged by rainfall. Unlike other trail systems we’ve hiked, Yinhushan has no stone steps. All materials need to be hauled in by hand and there are few access roads. We saw one of the trucks later. These guys have a tough job but they do get to play outside all day. Thanks to them for making the parks safe and enjoyable for visitors.

A wild flower that I spotted in a few places has to be related to the flower that made such an impression in the Daoist Qingyang Palace in Chengdu. This is not quite the same species perhaps, but it has to be a relation. (Update: wonderful readers have graciously informed me this is a Lantana.)

The final stretch was a winding walk down to the entrance by access road. So boring and tedious that I didn’t think to get even one picture. You will just have to imagine that excitement… We were all exhausted and just ready to get back to the city. Our feet were really dragging by the time Yinhushan kicked us out.

Not gonna lie, the boys lost their cool towards the end and some words were exchanged. I comforted myself knowing that this was only anchoring this memory deeper for later enjoyment. Like me, they would remember the pointless wandering in the hills their parents dragged them away from their beds and phones to do. They will remember the good times, understand finally why we did it all, and do the same with their kids.

Gentle Monsters at HAUS Nowhere

Visit and “become part of the story.” 

China is known for big cities, and big cities need bold retail. There is no bigger and bolder retail in Shenzhen than the MixWorld retail and business complex, owned by China Resources Land. We are kicking off China’s October 1st National Holiday with a visit to the Shenzhen debut of HAUS NOWHERE, a futuristic retail collaboration between Gentle Monster and Tamburins. 

Gentle Monster is a Korean eyeglasses brand well known for large and futuristic art installations. Nodding giant bison? Check (Chengdu). A strong multi-colored nightmare garden? We got those (Guangzhou). Fingers growing out the floor and a mechanistic tree? Why didn’t you ask (Beijing)! Gently rocking ghostly gatekeepers that convey an “emotional atmosphere?” Of course (Qingdao). These wild designs make the stores a destination, whether or not one is interested in buying eyeglasses. 

Distinctive store concepts tempt my business instincts. I enjoy taking a look. Years of being sent to look at this or that brand that has the next exciting wrinkle on the oldest formula ever has dug a furrow in my mind that won’t be easily erased. From time to time I indulge the practice for fun.

You may know the type of CEO who believes in their omnipotence, able to spot trends, and get insider info before their paid experts can? They revel in dropping hints that so-and-so is doing really well and you should “take your team over” to get a look. Never mind the new store sells eyeglasses, face cream, or potted plants, and you flog beds and mattresses. Go learn something.

I read up before my wife and I visited. The design is themed on a fictional story, INSECT KINGDOM, about a 10,000 year history of intelligent insects, humanoid giants, and animals. Visitors are invited to “step into the tale” and become “part of the story.” A creator being, named Monad, molded three creations, mantis-like insects, bison-like animals, and the giant First Human. These creatures are featured in the store. 

Here’s how it goes. The insects imprison the First Human for one hundred centuries because of his hidden greed and intelligence, which allows them to have an Insect Kingdom. All is well for some time. Until three Oracles reveal themselves and warn that the First Human will soon break free. This is what visitors are meant to imagine as they progress through the store. 

We stood in line to get five minutes of picture taking with the First Human. I couldn’t figure if he- I assume he- was a good guy or not? I suppose we are not meant to wonder.

This mechanized mannequin was also a featured exhibit. Wish I could show it’s movements here, sorry… I do not know what part she plays in the story but I was glad she was included. I suppose this is my style.

Gentle Monster and Tamburin occupy the first floor. The second and third are curated collections of affiliated brands, mostly Korean, that cover men's and ladies fashions and jewellery. I get what they are aiming at: a curated, specimen-display of only the choicest, specially chosen goods. It is quite impressive, but I think these brands will change often. The two anchor brands on the ground floor will get most of the attention. 

Intriguingly, behind a glass case, we found the story represented in book form. The artwork is great, but sadly the writing is nonsense or backwards. It just occurs to me that maybe we’re only being led to believe the insects are so large, when actually the giant human only appears to be giant because the insects are really small. The book is not in the small bookstore nor is there explanation anywhere else. I’m too lazy to go trying to track this down. 

A coffee shop with an outdoor balcony is another feature that will draw us back in the future. The brand, Saanci, has another branch at the Shenzhen Museum where we saw the Alphonse Mucha show. Premium positioning, it comes highly recommended. Maybe a good fit for a Reading Date? 

A tiny bookshop fits into the most out of the way corner. It is so small, I can’t help feeling disappointed and a bit nostalgic. The building HAUS took over was originally the Eslite Spectrum bookstore, three floors of wall to wall books and a great English selection. This was a valuable sanctuary for me in 2018–19 when work was giving me the most pressure. I was sorry to learn that the Taiwan founder has passed away in 2017 and that this branch would soon be closed. Ah well, in the intervening five years we’ve rediscovered the library. 

One final delight, this great little potted plant shop had a very unique and cute selection. From South Africa, among other places, if one can afford $500 and up for a plant, you can give one of these little guys a home. Looking was free and I got my money’s worth. 

HAUS NOWHERE may do well in this location. The MixWorld is centrally located in Nanshan District, surrounded by the densest cluster of tech companies and high rise apartments in the country. It takes a lot to stand out in today’s retail environment, and Gentle Monster swings for the fences. Eyeglasses are an infrequent but highly profitable sale, therefore investing in cool-factor and top-of-mind marketing is the only way to insure they get consideration.

'New Street', New Memories

Sweet surprises, right around the corner. 

I do not know what to make this “about”. Does everything we share need to have some layered meaning? A surprise perhaps, a Shyamalan Twist, but one of the good ones like The Sixth Sense. Good god, that movie scared me for weeks. All right, that’s a story to share.

We made a Family Decision (yes, we capitalize those) to spend this year’s China National Holiday, October 1–7, at home in Shenzhen. Traveling here is not recommended during major holidays. The crowds and the limited infrastructure mix in unpleasant ways. This year we’ve already been to Foshan, Changsha, Jingdezhen, and Chengdu.

All the pictures in this article were taken in Shenzhen’s XinJie, which literally translates to “New Street”. The street is not new, but has been revitalized, and has become a hot destination for tourists from other China regions and Hong Kong. Many blogs marketing to Hong Kong visitors highlight XinJie, only a short bus ride from where we live, and I never knew it. 

Above are the deserts of Baicaotang, meaning “bath of a hundred herbs”. There is a deeper history here that I only know enough of to not dive into too early. A story for another day. Anyway, we’ve driven past this little place many times and there is always a crowd, day or night, weekday or weekend. We waited patiently for our opportunity to come during this holiday — twice. Yes, it was so good we went back again later in the week. Don’t hate. 

While you are feasting on that, and taking in more of the sights of XinJie, I will fire up the WABAC machine and get into my story.

The Sixth Sense was released in September 1999, so I had been living and working in China for a bit over two years. I was still working mostly on my own with local staff, hosting foreign visitors infrequently. There I was, October National Holiday 1999, alone and with no place to go. Hong Kong was always the go-to destination, a westernized oasis of familiar food, comforts, and movies.

I went to see whatever movie was playing. Bruce Willis starring in The Sixth Sense? Great! His last movie was The Fifth Element, a fun, visually exciting piece of entertainment. Was this a sequel? I really knew nothing at all before buying the ticket. It’s okay, whatever you’re feeling is just fine. Some pity, a lot of chuckling, and maybe you’re thinking, “what a dumbass”.

[Author’s Note: I apologize, the more you know about The Sixth Sense, the better this will be.]

Some kids are afraid of the dark. Where I grew up in rural Wisconsin, it is DARK. The starry sky doesn’t illuminate much. But there’s a darker place than the countryside at night. The basement, with the swinging pull-cord light bulbs you can’t reach without walking halfway into the inky stygian blackness. Turning the light off is even worse. Breathe deep, pull that cord, and run up the stairs as if your life depends on it. There could be anything hiding in the tenebrous dark! 

I sat scared stiff in that dark theatre for 107 minutes. Why didn’t I just leave, you might reasonably ask? I cannot say. A ticket costs $5 or something and I wasn’t raised to waste money. So, I sat there while this kid sees ghosts in the most pitiful series of jump scares. I was afraid to close my eyes for weeks after, thinking about what might be there when I opened them. Perfect storm conditions and I got walloped. I was 25 years old. You know you were wondering…

Fear is an interesting stimulant. After 2019, I started reading H.P. Lovecraft, and now I can’t get enough. There is something about the indifference and unfathomability of the forces in his world that is intriguingly familiar and compelling. My oldest friends here may guess easily. A story for another time. 

National Holiday 2024 was infinitely better than 1999. No longer alone, but surrounded by a loving family, healthy and happy, and being aware of the fact, possibly aware for the first time in 25 years. We can get better. I’m glad that silly goof walked blind into that theatre. There was no other way to get here. 

The Village At The Heart Of Shenzhen

A lesson in picking your moments 

I tried the first travelogue in March, 2024. We were taking a weekend to neighboring Foshan to relax and see the He Art Museum. Though I visit many places most years, the memories fade quickly, and I am not good with, or comfortable in front of, a camera, so I don’t have a lot of pictures to show for the time. I decided to change that and felt Medium would be a good place to archive and share these memories.

Turns out that was right. We’ve researched, written, and published more than forty travelogues (list here) since March, one every week, and have the same plan for 2025. I enjoy the process and the feeling of purpose this work adds to any trip. Who knows what value these will have later on? Sometimes though, I do think about the places we visited before. I want to go back and recreate those experiences, like the time in February when we went to Shenzhen’s Nantou Ancient Town during Chinese New Year.

Before Shenzhen was a concept, an astounding 1700 years before, Nantou City was a proud and important political, economic, and cultural center that guarded commerce traveling on the Pearl River estuary. Nantou was a maritime stronghold of the entire coastal region. During the Eastern Jin Dynasty (400AD), Nantou was the administrative center, basically the capital, for the entire Guangdong region. There was an 1800 meter wall protecting the city and shipping from pirates. Can you imagine how serious the pirate threat was to require two kilometers of perimeter? 

But times and events passed by Nantou, and the ancient village was being subsumed by the hungry surroundings of what had become Shenzhen. In 2016, decisions were made to establish Nantou as an old historic town, to make Nantou a cultural center. I moved to China in 1997, yet another example of the recent nature of many of China’s cultural preservation efforts.

When we visited here in February, New Year celebrations were underway, the streets were crowded, and limited time art shows were free to visit. I felt like we had only scratched the surface. Why not return during the October National Holiday Week, but the day before the official holiday, when local businesses and schools would still be working? Seemed like a great plan.

Right away we noticed the streets were quieter and more deserted than expected. There surely should have been some tourists! The cute small shops and snack joints were all there, but the whole atmosphere was quite subdued. Turns out, there is a pause before the storm here at the ancient village. Turns out most of what we came to see wasn’t even open… until the next day. 

Below is one of the historical points of interest I remembered from February. This is a memorial to Wen Tianxiang, a poet and politician of the Song Dynasty. He is a hero of righteousness and patriotism, a real man of action and integrity. I cannot begin to adequately relate his story here and do him justice, and I failed to take a single picture in February! Shocking and disappointing. Today the doors were closed. We will have to return to see Wen Tianxiang.

Stumped, and at a loss of what to do, we decided to stop by the favorite watering hole of the expatriate, Starbucks, to reassess the moment. This cute three-storey narrow design wasn’t here in February. I had a Shenzhen-exclusive Frappucino flavor, persimmon, so we were beginning to make progress… recharged, we decided that everyone would really like to get to lunch sooner rather than later, so we began moving toward the exit. 

Now this is interesting. Behind the Starbucks, in the alley across from the Wen Tianxiang Memorial, is a space that hosts art shows. Back in February, my wife and I did go in, and this time I did get pictures. 

This show is Ma Liping’s “Being and Time” photography exhibition featuring the Buddhist cave art of the Yungang Grottoes. From the 4th and 5th century AD, the Yungang Grottoes are a 5A site of 252 caves and 51,000 statues. I have visited other sites of Buddhist cave art in years past, like Dunhuang Mogao and the Luoyang Longmen. I may someday visit Datong in Shanxi Province.

To learn and see more about this show, try this excellent blog post by Raymond Lamb for Buddhist Door Global.

So we meandered to the exit, the mission a bust. But not really, we’d had a good morning together, and a nice walk in a light-hearted, quiet place of great history. We had good conversation and story telling with frappucinos, and now we could look forward to that popular lunch dive we’d been targeting. Time well spent after all? 

Nantou held one last gift before it let us go. Outside the entrance is The Guandi Temple, dedicated to Guanyu, the military general and strategist of Three Kingdoms fame. The doors were locked tight but you bet your sweet bippy we will return to this one. Look at that epic statue! 

Sometimes our plans don’t unfold as we expect. Though Nantou Ancient City kept its secrets today, everything we try opens the way to new possibilities. WenTianxiang, the Guandi Temple, maybe even the Yungang Grottoes wait to teach us. Like the Daodejing opened the way to HanFei and Confucius, like writing and reading leads to the great connections and relationships with many of you, accepting what comes and remaining curious about the journey brings me a lot of joy. 

The crowd is an essential part of the experience, don’t worry ;-) People come from all over. This place is always busy.

Dishes are a mix of rice, vegetables, and protein cooked in a stone pot. You choose from a raw buffet, so this is really healthy and accommodating of most diets. The best part is the rice gets crispy on the bottom. So good.

A Travelogue Look Back at 2024

An experiment takes on a life of it’s own. 

Friends, as 2024 winds down, I hope you are all having your best life, accepting your paths, and having as much fun as possible.

I want to Thank You all for your encouragement throughout the year. Your positivity, warmth, and that so many of you return makes this so much fun.

The first Travelogue began with this note:

This is a try at something different. I include pictures of travel and local living in China with my other articles, so I thought why not focus on that from time to time? China was mysterious to me in 1997 and I’ve been surprised continuously ever since. I believe it is still a mystery to many who haven’t had the chance to visit. I hope to pull the curtain back a bit. Let me know what you think, your input is appreciated and will be put to good use.

I hope that together we have pulled back the curtain. China is a complex and layered place, a culture that has always been mysterious. If you are reading this, you are on that journey of discovery and growth with me. Am I making progress? I think so. My awareness of the vastness of the unknown unknowns is more apparent now that ever, and there is a roadmap to unravelling some of the mystery.

I would love to hear from you. What stands out from 2024? While you’re thinking on that, let’s see what stood out in my not-so-great memory.

Please feel free to Ask Me Anything in the Comments. I will do my best to answer.

2024 flew by. I do stress over the details of prepping, planning, and then writing, but looking back I only remember the fun. Thank you for cheering me on.