no birdsong was heard

1/30/18

Maybe it was memories of the garbage collectors’ strike, the stench, the rats, the filthy subways. Maybe it was hearing how in the wake of frightening melting/collapsing of glacial ice shelfs, our great leaders decided this was an opportunity to do more drilling for dirty/polluting oil in the north seas. I’ll return to that later.

 I would have titled this travelblog A Dirty Story. That might have given you the wrong idea.

 In search of open spaces, cleaner air, unspoiled nature, I visited Vermont, Ohio, the foothills of the Canadian Rockies near Alberta, Les Plus Beaux Villages de France. All beautiful. Yet, something called me in a different direction- now that I had time in retirement, it was a little easier to hear that oft-muffled inner wisdom. As I sat on an old stone half-wall in a field not far from the center of Giverny, I decided to buy a green apple, a baguette, a bit of Camembert cheese and head to Claude Monet’s house and garden. On a green bench, facing the front garden, hat shielding me from a brilliant sun, I crossed my legs enjoying the fresh spring air. Aha! After about ten minutes, it was clear: I wanted to visit China.

I arrived in Guangzhou expecting to see modern architecture similar to midtown Manhattan, not so interesting for a person who grew up with it. I did wonder at how quickly China has caught up with the West. Of course, China had always been infinitely ahead of us philosophically and spiritually. I realized those value judgements are Western. 

What I wanted to see was not in the capital of the province of Guangdong or any other large city. It might be in an old temple. Perhaps even one in my native New York.

“The only free cheese is in a mousetrap.” Quote attributed to Putin.

Did dumpf hear it?

Two days before I left New York, a young woman, practically a girl, stopped me on the Upper West Side. Usually I don’t stop if someone asks if I have 30’seconds. I stopped for her. She showed me her Care credentials; she was looking for donations. She asked if I knew of Care. “I give them money every year.” She gave me a high five. She said something flattering about my eyebrows and that I brightened her day. I said, “You would brighten anybody’s day… You look like a college student.” She said she was 18, working for Care- her full-time job she called it. She added she does a couple of things on the side. She touched me on the shoulder. I touched her gently on her shoulder, we smiled. I went on.

My fantasy was to have given her a donation. Fact is I did not want to pull out my wallet in public. I could have said that. I wondered what work she did on the side. She was well-spoken, exceptionally pretty. The best-case scenario was a one afternoon affair. The worst: diseases, blackmail, divorce, jail- maybe under 18? Ugh. If it seems too good to be true, it is… mouse-trap.

For some reason she is still on my mind, months later. Is it possible there really was just a wholesome connection between us?

I do feel more social and open- and desperate. Before leaving, I fantasized about meeting an attractive stewardess.

No such luck - or maybe it was better that way.

Taxiing into Hong Kong, I thought about the 75 mile trip to Canton. I couldn’t understand how that was the Romanized name of Guangzhou, but it is. I wondered if Cantonese had originated in Guangzhou.

My connecting flight in a relatively small plane passed over a few towns. I wondered if any answers were to be found there.

I felt like a ping pong ball traveling between Hong Kong and Guangzhou- and Manhattan. After catching my breath I took a hired car to Mount Wuyi. I had read that the thing many people noticed when they first arrived was the lack of birdsong, so abundantly prevalent through much of the Chinese countryside.  The first thing I noticed was the huge cliffs through which the river ran. After a raft trip down Nine-Bend River, propelled by men using polls in the shallow water, I followed the crowds to an extensive tea ceremony- a performance. It seemed like there were hundreds of performers.

I stayed in a luxury hotel in the he middle of a forest. This seems to be a popular theme; a friend had just returned from a similarly spectacular hotel in the jungles of Sri Lanka where elephants crossed the road. 

I slept well after a satisfying meal of vegetables, rice and cashews. In the morning I rented a cottage. I though briefly about building a home, or a hut. Jurassic Park came to mind. Off the beaten path you could go for days without seeing another person. 

I sat on my porch for hours. The sights and freshness of the air were enough stimulation.

On the third day, I began to explore. I was struck by the pedestrian nature of my thoughts. I wondered if the setting could help me find my life’s direction. I thought of visiting even more remote places such as Buddhist temples in Tibet or Vietnam. All thoughts felt empty.

I hadn’t wanted to see anyone. It did not occur to me that I was lonely. Until I got a text from my son. There was no WIFI in my cottage, but it was available as I approached the hotel where I occasionally went for dinner.

My son and I had not communicated in the five months since I had been traveling- no communication at his request. He now told me he was ok, busy with his new company. Had his feet on the ground. He wanted to wait to be back in touch until he did not need my help. A little extreme, I thought. But totally understood.

A traveler I met on the path starting out from the hotel told me his home

had been destroyed in the fires in California. When he moved in with his cousins, their home had been destroyed by mudslides.

The next morning I met a man whose car had to be swept each morning when he was living in Mexico City. The pollution was so thick it looked like a dusting of snow.

A woman from Beijing told me she and her children often had to wear masks because the air was unbreathable.

A family from Louisiana told of how their home had been washed away in Hurricane Katrina.

Islanders from the South Seas told of entire villages being consumed by oceans. They told me they heard similar things were happening in Alaska. Huge blocks of Ice were melting, falling spectacularly as though dynamited by alien forces into the North Pacific- daily.

The response of our leaders was to increase the offshore drilling for oil, decrease protection against chemical runoff into watersheds, blow up mountains for coal, Rachel Carson went unheeded.

It was a beautiful dawn the next day, though no birdsong was heard.