November 4
Breakfast at hotel, then add our laundry to the luggage and take off in the bus for another Miao village. Later find out that, because of the power outage yesterday, our laundry is “damp.”. This means that my blue jeans may be dry by Thanksgiving.
Stopped at another interesting market in “old Chongjiang.” On our way back to the bus, we ran into a parade of young children in traditional Dong costume, some on stilts and some playing horns (lushengs) swaying back and forth, promoting a festival that will take place in a few days in a Dong village. Took photos in market and of parade that I never would have taken before this trip.
Drive along the Pearl River to the Dong village of Yingtan. Lee speaks of his growing up. Did not speak Chinese until 12 years old. He spoke Miao. Was being trained to be a shaman, but his father did not want that, so he was taken to the town where his father worked. There a teacher whose parents were suspected to be American spies took a liking to him and he began to learn Chinese and English.
Youngtan is a very nice looking village. Lee explains that the government has spent money to retain it as a traditional village. After walking around town for a couple hours, we stop and have a lunch of spicy noodles and beer in the town drum tower, where we mix with the old men and little kids from the village. The drum tower is the center of the village, where the beating of a drum heralded a significant event or danger to the people.
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We move on to another Dong village, this one not supported specially by the government, and the contrast is rather stark. This one has unpaved streets, and the buildings are much more run down. The people are very friendly, though, and we have a good time walking around and photographing for about an hour and a half. Nevada becomes great friends with a woman in her seventies, who invites her for dinner. Sheila rounds up about twenty little kids in a big room and has them singing songs, repeating lines after she sings them.
In general, there is not too much to write about these villages. We just see people and how they live, which is quite fascinating.
The drive to our hotel, mercifully, is on a real highway. Staying at the same hotel we stayed at several nights ago in Dongjiam. Bused out to a restaurant for what may have been the best Chinese meal we’ve had. Getting used to the fare and more adept at handling the chop sticks, but may head straight for Five Guys when I get home.
Finished downloading and looking at photos, and completing today’s blog entry.
November 3
Set off after breakfast for 3-hour drive to Jingling and Baiwen villages, to see Bingban Yao, Yao who wear square-framed hats, as Nevada calls them. 58 households and 270 people in the Baiwen village. According to Lee, there are only three Yao villages like this one in China.
Nevada talks about technical issues in photography. For most of the group, this is familiar territory, but not so for me. Talk about white balance and bracketing, for example. As with much of what’s being talked about on the trip, some stuff seeps in and some doesn’t. I’m okay with that, though, as seeping is sorta my aim for this trip.
Hiked up to the village, where we spent the next 3 1/2 hours, primarily photographing young girls getting into and wearing their colorful and distinctive local costumes. This is not a festival, so they are doing it for us and, I’m sure, will be compensated in some way.
Though, in principle, this is not very different from what we did yesterday, which I did not care for, I have a much different reaction. Part of it is that it all unfolds more slowly, and does not involve them having to first get out of costume and then get dressed again, which felt very uncomfortable as an observer. Here there are others around, mothers who help their daughters get dressed and other villagers, who we can photograph.
The other reason this feels different is that again we are broken into two groups, but this time I am in Nevada’s group. Watching her interact with the people and seeing how she approaches and photographs the happening is incredibly interesting and productive and leads me to get some images that I never would otherwise have. Many of these have to do with the positions she takes and the angles of the photographs, which turn routine photographs into much more interesting images. I’m including quite a few, both because they are quite colorful and to demonstrate what I mean by the angles.
After they dress, we are able to take close ups of the girls, as well as photos of them walking down the road towards us. Again I try the type of panning shots I took a couple days ago, and again, they are not quite successful.
We stop at a favorite funky restaurant of Nevada’s, but, because of the lateness of the hour (4PM), we have only beer and snacks from the bus. We set out for the hour and a quarter drive for the hotel. On the bus, I show Nevada a half dozen or so images from yesterday that I think have some merit. As she agrees, I am feeling that I can at least recognize a good image when is see it.
We arrive at the hotel at 6:15 to find candles in the lobby. The electricity is out. I elect not to walk up to my room on the sixth floor, but instead download images taken today to my iPad. At seven, electricity still out, we bus to a restaurant for quite a good meal. As usual, the ten of us, plus Nevada, sit at a large round table. The extensive dinner that has been ordered for us is served and passed on the rotating circular platter on the table. A goodly amount of wine and beer s consumed.
We return to the hotel much earlier than usual, time to finish this blog and review the photos. The laundry has not come ack yet, but presumably it will before we leave tomorrow morning.
November 2
Down for breakfast in the hotel at 8 for our 9 o’clock departure.
We drive through beautiful hill country, with views of terraced rice paddies en route to High Mountain Black Miao market in village of Ting Dong. Market days, based on a lunar calendar, take place approximately once a week. We come upon a logging operation, where large logs are being stripped of bark by women carrying small babies on their backs, while men load the logs onto large open trucks.
We arrive in the market town and spend some two hours, wandering slowly through the market, which contains every kind of product, produce, animals, fish, etc. dress ranges from very traditional Miao to modern. Young girls dressed up to attract attention, old men smoking pipes, women playing mahjong. Would never take so much time or interact with so many people on a non-photography trip. Also interesting and instructive to see what others choose to photograph and from what position and angle. Lunch at a restaurant. I mix Chinese, peanut butter and beer.
After lunch, we head out to another village, Donglang where Lee has arranged for us to photograph two teenage girls in full Miao costume. They misunderstood and were in full costume when we arrived. seo analysis Since Nevada wanted us to photograph them dressing, they had to take all of their costume off, then get dressed again for us, then pose in full costume.
We broke into two groups, then switched to photograph the other girl. Frankly, this got a bit boring, because it was staged, and I was happier just wandering around the town and photographing. Before leaving the town, we witnessed a tree in the center of town being chopped and pulled down.
We drove out of town to a place up in the mountains from which we could photograph the terraced rice fields in the late afternoon sun near Kongmingshan. Did this from several vantage points.
Headed back on 3-hour drive. Nevada told many war stories of travel in her early years. She was quite an adventurer and groundbreaker in the field of adventure and photo travel, but I found this far less interesting than hearing her talk about photography.
Of the things we did today, the market was by far the most interesting. Photographing models and the rice paddies was much less my thing, though I don’t regret having done them.
On the bus, Nevada spent some time with me flipping through the pictures I’ve downloaded to my iPad, and commenting quickly on them. She’s able to see immediately which she likes and which have possibilities, and which just don’t work. She had a few basic and very helpful suggestions for me that I can work on during the trip.
Staying at modern and comfortable Ao Yu Hotel in Congjiang. Quite good dinner in the hotel, though by the time we eat, around 10, I’m not all that hungry. Back to the room to wash underwear and socks, as we’ll be at this hotel two nights. driver will take in laundry tomorrow, but they will not do socks or underwear (in Africa, they call these “smalls”).
November1
Good night’s sleep in our basic accommodations. Awoke early, as has been the case, and finished yesterday’s blog. Had my first experience with a non-Western toilet on this trip, and I can say, without hesitation, that the toilet seat is one of the great inventions of mankind, ranking just after the wheel (unless you happen to have to go to the bathroom, in which case it moves up to #1).
Lug the baggage down, then breakfast at 7:30 at a restaurant near the guest house, slurping noodles and eggs with chop sticks. A few photos around town, before taking off for long drive to wedding. Very interesting to hear Nevada talk about her philosophy of dealing with people in taking photos. We have wifi contact on the bus through a hotspot that Xue Biao has set up, somewhat sporadic, but able to check emails and to make blog posts, which is great and friggin’ amazing. A few stops for photos along way.
Plan (revised along the way, of course) was to stop at the village of a bride who was to leave to go to her groom’s village to get married. Then we were going to stop at another village of a different groom, to witness the arrival of his bride. This is apparently an auspicious day for marriages, according to the moon.
We stopped in village of Lelia and during lunch, Lee and Nevada found the bride, who had recently had a baby, in tears. The family of the groom had refused to accept the bride. There would be no wedding.
We went on to the second village, Bengli, where a group called the 72 Dong Villages Dong live. Both the groom, Lin Gai, and bride, Yang Xia, from Gao Ping Village, are 17 years old. We spend a lot of time in the charming village, photographing a lot of different interesting people in their daily lives. We go up to the house of the groom, where we see a large entertainment center in purple and quite nice furniture that is the bride’s dowery.
We wait around for quite some time for the arrival of the bride. A procession of people arrives carrying gifts. In the procession is the bride, though we’re unaware of that and do not know who she is. Many, many loud firecrackers go off in rapid succession to salute the bride. We go up to the house and photograph her. She looks about twelve years old and is a bit overwhelmed with all the photography.
During the past two days, we’ve seen many different hair styles:
We learn that it is going to be quite some time before the celebration and, although we are invited to stay for dinner, we decline. Groom took off on a motorcycle to dont-know-where. After going up to see the area where the banquet will be held, we walk back through the village to the bus, for our long almost 4-hour ride back (even though it is only about 60 kilometers). En route home, I download edit and weed out the day’s photos. I have a much more critical view of my photos, as well as different criteria by which to judge them.
We arrive at the hotel, the Dongxiangmi Grand Hotel in Rongjiang where dinner has been ordered, including cold Tsing Tao beer. Bags have been taken up to the room, and a hot shower awaits after dinner. Life is good.
This day is a great example of how everything can”go wrong,” and you can still have a terrific day, if you are open to experiencing what’s in front of you.
October 31
I’m trying to post this from a wifi hot spot on a bus in Ghizou, so if they get posted out of order and/or without photos, please excuse me, and check back another time to check for photos.
Halloween. Looking forward to grandchildren photos, in costume, though it may take some time before I can access them. Hope that the day is not marred by the effects of hurricane Sandy, as we’ve been hearing if it’s devastating impact, Evan told me in Beijing that his 37-year old sister, Catherine, was dressing up as a binder of women, ala Mitt.
Early departure, and breakfast at a restaurant outside the hotel. Small, open store/restaurant. Sit on plastic stools, bowl of broth with noodles, add scrambled eggs. Surprisingly tasty. Walked around and missed photo ops because left camera on bus. Won’t make that mistake again. Was able to take some pictures on my iPhone.
Drive on to our first hill tribe of Ghuizo experience, a festival, a hay rice harvest festival. No set date, doesn’t happen. Festival today is for the amusement of the ancestral spirit Will be water buffalo fights, competition, but not for money. Two villages, Zhanghan and Baiso, at least 200 families each, plus others will come to see. People are short skirt black Miao, with tin embroidery. In minority areas, people are allowed two children.
We travel along Chiang Shui Jiang, the clean river, with villages on hillside. Boats fishing in river. Very overcast again. Scene is reminiscent of hills and river ofGuilin,where we went on our first trip. Intoxicating fishing, substance put in water that dazes fish and makes them easier to catch.
Nevada talks about photography, both philosophy and technique. Fascinating, but shows how little thought I’ve given to both elements. Hearing about it, though, and having time to think about it and put it into action should help. Maybe.
Long drive, most of it on paved, but rather bumpy roads, through hilly, scenic country enshrouded in very overcast weather (and, therefor, not really scenic). After a couple hours, though, the sun begins to come out, then emerges in earnest. Nevada sees the sun as creating problems for us as photographers, since it will create very contrasty scenes and shadows on people’s faces. The road turns to dirt and progress is slow.
Eventually, after more than three hours, we reach an open area in the village where many have begun to gather on slopes surrounding a large, basically oval open area. The crowd ranges from old men with great faces to young women and children, very few of them in costume at this point.
We climb up a hill to a school, where we have lunch in one of the rooms. Though a Chinese spread is available, most of us opt for cheese and crackers and peanut butter. We leave stuff in the school room (our baggage travels in a separate truck each day), and climb down the hill around the open area for the “bull fights.” Thousands of firecrackers going off, we later hear “to honor the bulls.” The bulls are actually water buffaloes and there are no matadors, the fights being between pairs of these huge beasts, who lock horns, butt heads, push against one another and try to injure the other by twisting the head and catching the other with a horn. After a period, men rope a leg of each buffalo and try to pull them a part. Generally, many men are required on each bull, giving the appearance of a tug of war, though the bulls are not attached. Once separated, the men try to gain control of the bull by slipping a rope or pole through the nose ring on the bull. This can by quite a trick, and not infrequently the bulls escape and run unpredictably through a quickly scattering crowd. We do not see anyone injured, though certainly this must happen from time to time. I view this as a bit more excitement than optimum.
After watching for an hour or so, our group walks to the village, which turns out to be a pretty decent hike, up and down hill. The village is very picturesque, with wooden structures topped by roofs of different colors. On our way to the village we encounter many women and children, heading back to the open area for dances. We visit the very comfortable home of the head man, with a living room with TV. We are, we are told, the first foreigners ever to visit the village, which I assume is true. Certainly there are none in evidence all day. We’ve worked up a sweat from the hike by the time we return to the open oval, where the water buffalo fights are still going on.
When they finally stop, the dancing begins. Seven men with very long, wooden instruments with poles play a continuous and repetitive, but not unpleasant, tune, as villagers dance around and around in a circle. The central characters are young, unmarried girls who wear elaborate embroidered costumes and large silver necklaces and headdresses. Others circle, too, though, old men, young men, and fathers and mothers, carrying costumed young children (in a sense, appropriate, for us, to this Halloween day). I try to use panning, as Nevada explained it to us on the bus, but get mainly blur. This is not surprising, as she says that mainly it does not work, and you are fortunate to get one good shot. Despite probably forty or more tries, I was not fortunate. I also discovered some basics of positioning, as I was standing in a position at which it was difficult to get anything with the dancers’ faces, until a spotted Nevada and a few others standing at a more strategic position.
Bus ride to a guest house, where I lug the suitcase up to my third floor room. The room itself looks clean and okay. The bathroom, however, is not The Peninsula. No light, a non-Western toilet (hole) and no shower to speak of. But it’s only one night.
Download photos to the iPad, which takes quite a while, then down to dinner. Not very hungry, so just take some eggs and greens in my bowl to go with several cups of weak beer, topped off by some chocolate candy that Nevada passes around.
Back upstairs, I look through my photos. With my now-elevated standards, I don’t have anything great, though I do have quite a number that would be okay for the old me/photographer. A very fascinating day. Nevada used the word “authentic,” and I think that captures it. A privilege to be able to experience something like this.
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