Sichuan Spice

Of course, no China travel is complete without indulging in the places “特色“, or specialties.

 

 

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Fresh mountain greens and pickled peppers, fried bamboo shoots, chicken boiled in Sichuan chilis.

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Sichuan special 豆花 and  豆脑, soft tofu in different forms, very soft and delicious. More fresh mountain greens and pickles. In Emei town, at the food of Mt. Emei.
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A small shop on the steep path up Mt. Emei. The old woman waiting patiently for hungry passer-byers disappeared behind the small building long enough for me to hear the abrupt “squawk” that heralded the end of lunch’s free roaming life… a few minutes later, this delicious chicken, sour bamboo and chili dish arrived.

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The famous 水煮鱼,fish filet boiled in wonderful 花椒 numbing peppers and chili.

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In the smaller city of Yibin, fish slices and chili of all sorts.

IMG_2415The wonderful selection of fresh veggies, pickles, and dumplings and buns. 20 RMB for a plate, all you can fit on it!

 

People of Sichuan Province

The Chinese New Year this year, welcoming the year of the Sheep, was a great opportunity to get out of the capital city, Beijing, and see the holiday from a very different perspective. Not only is the Province of Sichuan ethnically different, with many more ethnic minorities, including a very large Tibetan population, but the practice of religion is much more widespread, the history is quite distinct from that of Beijing, the landscape and climate are incredibly different, and, perhaps above all else, it is simply not as urban and the attitude of most of the people I encountered reflected that.

Everyone was so busy either being a tourist or doing their own holiday thing, that it was a great opportunity for me to watch people, and simply be a more or less ignored observer.

So, a “People of Sichuan” series.
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The New Year events, such as the light and lantern festival, and the traditional performances, attract people from all walks of life. The festivals seem to be held in parks, temples, or other such public spaces.

Biking is, indeed, a fairly common form of transportation in dense urban areas, such as downtown Chengdu, the provincial capital.

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A fairly universal characteristic of Chinese cities is the virtual armies of orange clad public employees sweeping the streets.
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This group of young monks seemed to be on a sort of pilgrimage to see, and pray to, the giant Buddha at Leshan. Sichuan People (2) (800x533)

Playing cards where three rivers join in the city of Yibin.Sichuan People (3) (800x533)

Fruit seller at the night market, the night before New Year’s Eve, Yibin. Sichuan People (5) (800x533)

A Buddhist nun preparing for that evening’s New Year celebration at the temple. Sichuan People (6) (800x533)

A team of chefs, members of the minority from Xinjiang, famous for their lamb kabobs. Sichuan People (7) (800x533)

Hanging out at People’s Park at the heart of Chengdu.
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Maintaining public order, on Segway. Sichuan People (9) (800x533)

People’s Park, Chengdu. Sichuan People (10) (800x533)

New Year’s Day celebration and performances at Wuhou Temple, Chengdu.Sichuan People (11) (800x533) Sichuan People (12) (800x533) Sichuan People (13) (800x533) Sichuan People (16) (800x533) Sichuan People (17) (800x533) Sichuan People (18) (533x800) Sichuan People (19) (800x533) Sichuan People (20) (800x533) Sichuan People (21) (533x800)

Mt. Emei, Sichuan

OK, so the pictures uploaded in reverse order… but you get the idea. The temple at the “Golden Peak” sits at over 3,000 meters. The map said I hiked over 15 kilometers from the base to the top… my legs sure felt like it. I stayed at a hotel near the summit and hiked up the next morning for the sunrise.

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The climate in this part of Sichuan is very humid, even in February, and although it wasn’t particularly cold, the wet air made it easy to get a chill.

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Above the clouds on Mt. Emei.

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Locals wandered the streets of Emei Town outside the park selling pairs of small steel spikes that hikers could tie on the bottom of their shoes. I bought a pair, assuming it was just a tourist thing. But it turns out they were completely necessary once I approached the summit, where the snow had packed down on the stone stairs, becoming a virtual ice slide.

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The predawn hike up the final few kilometers was completely worth it, as the sun rose up and across the mountains, illuminating the sea of clouds below.

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Monkeys in the monestary. Emei mountain has several old Buddhist monestaries that perch on its cliffs. It also has an abundance of monkeys that have grown far too bold as local tourists throw food at them.

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The week before the Chinese New Year holiday, there were probably fewer fellow hikers than at any other time of the year.

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Empires Come, Empires Go

The church on the cliff in Amasra, Turkey, on the Black Sea coast, was built in the early AD’s, then destroyed, rebuilt, then turned into a mosque, then back into a church, saw medieval castle walls rise around it and crumble away, and then turned into a mosque again.

Turkey’s Black Sea coast has patiently waited out the rise and fall of empires and civilizations, tribes and armies and kings and generals slaughtering and assimilating each other for control of heaven on earth ports, Amasra chief among them.
The Amazons, Phoenicians, Persians, Romans, Byzantines, and Ottomans have all come and gone.
Today, for the few months of summer anyway, Amasra is a coveted refuge away from the realities of Turkish life (few foreigners seem to holiday here), with a thriving industry of fish restaurants and beach chair renters, and UNESCO World Heritage medieval ruins.
If only I had more than two days.

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A Good Place to Get Stranded

The minibus from Rize, Turkey got me to Camlihensin, and in that wonderful little mountain town in the Firtina valley I jumped in a van whose driver was apparently accepting money for rides. (The music selection on the radio was all his, I soon discovered)
Finally, I made it to the day’s destination, the Middle Ages era castle Zil Kale, first a defense and lookout post for the Black Sea towns for eastern threats, later an important point along the trade route further west into today’s Turkey.

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The trip from the coast south into the Kackars mountain range of northern Turkey would have been worth it in itself, but the castle was fantastic.
My next destination was the village of Ayder, further to the east in the mountains. This didn’t seem too over ambitious on the map, but doubts arose when there were no buses from the castle back to the main road, 13 kilometers down a cliff side road.
Luckily, two friendly local Turkish fellows found this strange lost American curious enough that they crammed me the back seat along with their fishing gear, a few watermelons from a mountainside farm, and a pile of freshly caught river fish.

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To my surprise the driver broke out in fantastic English, explaining that he lived in southern Georgia, USA for about ten years at some point.

“I didn’t have a green card or anything, I was jus working in some Turkish restaurant there. But no one helped me out,” he trailed off, leaving me to assume he came home before he would have liked. “America is the greatest country on earth,” he concluded.

I made it to Ayder, an admittedly gorgeous valley town, but it has become such a tourist trap as to make it unpleasant, unfortunately.

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The town, with its majestic waterfall and full service hot springs spa, has for some reason become a favorite among tourists from the Middle East, many of the women and girls slowly swaying up the cobblestoned streets of Ayden in full black Burkas. The minibus back to Rize, my own “base camp,” was me and one large Saudi man, his three wives and seven children.