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After staying a second night in Dandong, I caught a bus heading back along the coast. But I made one final stop on the way back home, because Li Yujun (the boy I met at Zhuanjiaolou) had mentioned that there is a temple at Gushan which is over 1000 years old. As it turned out, the mountain there was perfectly suited to taking a short break from a monotonous bus trip. Because unlike more famous scenic spots such as the picturesque Qianshan (which I visited last summer) or the awe-inspiringly steep Huashan (which Derrick recently visited), which need a full day just to scratch the surface and often have almost as many small pavillions and temples as they do refreshment stands, Gushan just has one relatively small mountain and two temples.
At the foot of the mountain I met three middle-aged women who I have affectionately dubbed the "fleece team". The leader wanted to sell me a big bundle of incense for 10 yuan. I didn't really want any, since my last experience with incense was rather humiliating (not only did I make my offering to the goddess who helps women to conceive a child, I also used the wrong kind of incense), but I agreed to buy a smaller bundle, just to be polite. However, instead of accepting my money straight away, the fleece team insisted on accompanying me to the temple.
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| Entrance to the lower temple. |
There was nobody at the ticket booth (that's the small red building in the photo) so we had to go in a side gate. The lower temple is in fact a walled complex with a number of small buildings housing idols. The fleece team hurried me to a building where two warrior-like statues faced each other. It's lucky the women were there to help me, because otherwise I might have untied the bundle of incense and lit just one stick. Instead, they ignited the bundle and then instructed me to hold it before me while making three bows, then place the incense in the burner, then finally make another three bows. By the time I had finished this, they were already lighting a bundle for the other statue, and at this point I resigned myself to paying the 10 yuan price which they had originally stated (for a large bundle containing five of these smaller bundles).
But when we left that place and reached another incense burner, the fleece team thought it necessary to light the remaining three bundles all at once, even though the idol itself was locked inside a building and I could only peer at its dim shape through one of the small windows. As they dragged me off to the next place, I said that I couldn't afford any more incense and I would like to settle my account. That's okay, they told me, if you don't have any incense to burn then you can just bow three times instead. So I did, but at the last minute one of the women slipped a little gold-coloured charm between my pressed-together palms. "You can keep that for good luck!" she said after my bows. "Ten yuan please." "Bu mai," said I ("not buy"). Then in a sudden fit of generosity, she decided to give it to me for free. But she explained that I ought to pay her a fee for helping me to light the incense. Ten yuan would be appropriate. Now, I might not know the intricate customs of buddhist worship, but I can recognise a blatant scam when I see one. I explained, politely, that I wouldn't pay any fees which hadn't been agreed to in advance.
But it was still smiles all round, and next the leader of the team took me to visit a shifu (that means the master of a certain skill or knowledge) and have my fortune told. After looking at my palm and my facial features and inviting me to draw a paddlepop-shaped wooden stick from a cup, he declared that I would have a happy life and become a lingdao (leader, a term which encompasses positions of authority in both government and corporate spheres). Actually, that's not the kind of job that I want to have, but presumably it's what most people like to hear. I have absolutely no idea what the market rate for this service is, but the woman who took me there had mentioned the figure ten yuan. I laid fifteen on the table, but the guy looked a bit offended and said that a little more would be better. I think this is what chinese fortune tellers always do. I added another five yuan.
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| Shifu. My father has a hat like that! |
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| View of the lower temple, most of which I never ventured into. |
Obviously, there are advantages to having a tour guide. But one of the disadvantages is that you can't go at your own pace. You get a glimpse of scenery here, a snatch of art there, an interesting factoid in your ear—it's just like a television programme. At the end of the day you've seen everything you came to see, but you have experienced nothing. I prefer to slow down and think about what I see, wonder about it, explore behind this building or down that overgrown path. Travelling with friends can be just as bad if there is one person who insists on dragging you to the next place on the itinerary as fast as possible. If I ever go to Xi'an and visit those terracotta soldiers, my aim won't be just to see them and confirm that all the magazine articles and television documentaries are not a big hoax! My aim will be to explore the details which the magazine photographs overlooked, and to discover what feelings and thoughts are inspired just by being there.
I also realised that I hadn't seen any monks. But as if on cue, some fellows clad in gym kit came jogging out of the temple and ran laps around the stony paths. I wonder if Christian monks have an exercise regime too? I guess the monks spend most of their time in those parts of the temple which where tourists are not permitted, but I did spy one fellow dressed in robes through a doorway.
I enjoyed my walk up the mountain, along rocky paths dappled with snow that hadn't melted yet. Soon I reached the smaller, upper temple.
Turing tourist season, you need a ticket for this place to. But when I went there was nobody there except an old man and woman who I guessed were the caretakers. The man kindly let me out the back gate to a path that went the rest of the way up the mountain. I did almost lose my way once, but luckily I found these footprints in the snow and followed them:
From the top of the hill, I made it back to the Development Zone in time for dinner. My trip had been an interesting experience, but in future I think I'll avoid sight-seeing in sub-zero temperatures. Er, apart from my trip even further north to Ha'erbin for the Spring Festival.