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In 2007, my wife and I were traveling with her parents in Sichuan Province, China. Part of this trip included a 12 hour odyssey on a bus. The road was two lanes, with a vertical rock wall on the inside and a several hundred foot drop to a valley on the other side. Cars were repeatedly passing our bus, despite two ton dump trucks coming around blind corners in the opposite direction. We were sitting in the back of the bus, so we only knew how close the car passing us came to being splattered based on the "oohs" and "aahs" coming from the front.
Unfortunately, our bus was not up to the task and every few miles, the rear axle would fall off. At this point, the driver and tour guide would select a good sized rock and repeatedly drive the bus' rear wheels over the rock. I do not know what this was meant to accomplish, but it made them happy and off we would go for another few miles.
At one point, we stopped in a small town along the way that had about a dozen buildings total. We filed into a small restaurant and ate our fill while a welder was hired to work on the bus. Afterward, most of the passengers gathered around and chatted, but I grabbed my camera and set about looking for a picture.
It was a chilly day and most of my fellow travelers, being from a tropical city, were bundled up pretty tightly and many had bought bags of warm nuts and were using them as hand warmers. It was interesting to have been in 100 degree weather with 80% humidity at sea level the day before and to suddenly be in 40 degree weather with no humidity at 15,000 feet.
It was equally fascinating to see a true small town in China. The town's sole, perhaps soul, purpose was to provide a rest stop for travelers and that had been its purpose for centuries. The faces and modes of transportation had changed, but the purpose had not. In all of my travels in China, this was one of the very few places where hospitality seemed to triumph over the capitalist urge to fleece travelers who had no other options. Even more astounding, was the knowledge that in just under a year, this town would likely cease to exist. A modern four-lane highway was being constructed on the other side of the valley; there was to be no bridge across the river for miles in either direction. Modern rest areas were also being constructed along the highway. Sometimes, taking the road that has been traveled by thousands trumps taking the road less traveled. I will certainly travel on the old side of the river.
For such a small town, there were many ways to describe what was happening and it served as a microcosm for the changes that China was and is undergoing. There are complex political and economic theories being worked out and affecting the lives of billions. There is a culture, which as one of the most powerful in the world, remained relatively stable, despite the rise and fall of the cycles of empires. Now, this culture is changing at a pace that is almost reckless and out of control... and even more concerning to many, at the hands of foreign forces.
As I was looking through my archives, I became fixated on one picture that I felt had captured the soul of this town. I remember taking it. It wasn't anything special at the time. I, effectively, shot from the hip. There was a quick crouch, a snap, and back to the bus. But now, 3 years later, this picture resonates with me for many reasons, some of which I can't even put words to.
I will almost certainly provide a more detailed pictorial story of some of my travels in China later and I have already provided quick glimpses of some of my time there in previous articles... but for today, I hope that everyone will look into this picture, as I have, and see more about this one little town than I could possibly explain and perhaps more than a complete photo-diary could convey.
