After our visit to the oil fields in Karamay, our bus drove us to Urho to visit the DEVIL CITY, a UNESCO Heritage Site , where we observe more about the history of Yardang Landforms. We observed how wind eroded the consolidated soft rocks , bedrocks and ridges into different shapes and sizes. We are free to interpret these strange shapes to fit our imagination and fancies. In the past, travels in desert storms were harsh and life risking; the howling wind added to the fear and survivors returned with their stories to tell. Movies were filmed to boost their awesome mysteries, with heroes and villains. These amusement industries helped to pacify our fear of the unknown. Heritage Centers are formed to elucidate these strange structures and we learn more about our associations of these images and symbols. In a way, it helped us to learn about our hidden fears, the shame and sins of living trigger these associations.
Some of the pictures above were copied-pasted from the web, with appreciation to their owners.
Plunge from heaven’s height, might of shared love shake;
Tears fill an abyss, bliss bestows a lake.
Rain till last teardrop, far from big ocean;
Clouds change shape and shade, myth moves on potion.
Sky and water merge, endless clear blue hues;
Light shines on the dews, rainbows hang their views.
Clear and cold, the fathomless depth to muse;
Oblivious of abuses and news.
Waves ripple to edge, pebbles drum with wind;
Music of divine, calm and cool the mind.
Vast expanse of green, with hinterland hills;
Sun crimson the skies, flash of sunset thrill.
A pearl to visit, sparkle shines in eyes;
Sapphire lit up skies, sun set and sun rise.
Note:
Sayram Lake: The word Sayram means bliss. in local language. Legend or myth narrated a beautiful lass was kidnapped by an evil leader, and forced her to marry him. In defiance, her beloved and her jumped down from a high cliff into the abyss. Their shared tears were powerful. It filled up the ravine into a splendid lake, supreme and sublime. The West called it the last teardrop of the Atlantic Ocean, because the lake was far away from the warm humid airs of the ocean. The huge lake has its water source from the melting Alpine snow and rain, and has a temperature was below 10 C. No fish was found in the lake. (Despite this the Chinese was abled to farm the cold white salmon for local consumption and export. This was in separate ravine and harvested in modern industrialized ways, without contamination of the pristine lake.) The first stanza was an introduction of the mythical stories, with infusion of heavenly images.
The rest of the poem was my personal observation and feeling of the splendid lake. It was about 95 km to drive one complete round, and our guide stopped at four different places for us to observe and rest.
We travel to northern Xinjiang for we need to see with our own eyes and ears on western lies on China.
The pictures are all copied-pasted from the web, with appreciation to their owners. I have my own pictures, but my skills are too poor.
Eat and rush like ghosts, the chase is not chaste.
Deserts transform to cities in good hands;
Evils start war and stay as barren sands.
Note:
In our long road journey to Bole and Karamay, we were shown Black Oil Hill. “Black Oil, is a natural asphalt hill formed formed by overflowed crude oil for more than thousand of years:” Then the tour bus took us to a serene public park. A short distance later, we chanced on this “Nine Dragon Spit” out cascade of water into a 8 meter pond, which provides water for the city lakes, households uses, trees, gardens and farms. We walked up the slope to observe where the dragons get their water, and eventually understand how the story linked up. The barren crude oil provided capital to divert the river, using natural landscape, and then huge power pumps to create artificial waterfalls, and also the power to drive the water downstream.
The dragons are imaginary, mythical animals, comprising of varied animals and birds in a composite symbol of unity and harmony. In other words, harmony comes from unity in diversity. The eagle is symbol of supreme power and represents control and hegemony. The two cultures diverge on on their philosophy of living, but it does not imply they must fight and destroy another. In fact, part of the eagle is in the dragon, but the eagle is just a bird of prey. Nine represent near perfection and signals the beginning of change.
The pictures are copied/pasted from the web, with appreciation to their owners. I could not insert my video in my blog, because I need to upgrade my premium.
i was surprised to find Chinese toilets have an “UNISEX” or “THIRD Sex” category. There was the customary “Male” on the left, AND “FEMALE” on the right. I was puzzled and took a picture, then forwarded to my friends in Malaysia, including one who was an ex- boss and ran a Travel Agency to China. All of them shared my confusion , and thought that “Third” or “Unisex” must either be for some foreign travelers to China or the nation had now “advanced” or “regressed” to some western sex morals. I pondered and asked my China tour guide for an explanation. With a wry look at me, he respond to my query thus:
“It is meant for father, mother, or grand parent who accompany a child of any sex to the toilet, and also for the disabled.” So, it is a FAMILY toilet, nothing to do with sex, but gender of both kinds, and the disabled of either sex.
I am a certified OKU (Disabled Person) holder, thereby fit to enter and explore.
I confided to the ladies in the group that this public toilet was the cleanest and best equipped.
With apology, the “UNISEX” caught my eyes, unaware there was a logo with it.
In China, if you cant find the “exit” door , best to get oneself “exported”.
In two or three decades as a China traveler, the public toilets have evolved from “mine fields”, shared without doors, doors unable to lock/unlock, sanitary papers, including the pooh in bowls, or flush, to more modern updated ones.
This painting was posted in front of a male toilet in a restaurant. I dare not venture into the ladies to look for similar designs or painting for the other sex.
Recently we observe slogans or “poetry” pinned on toilet urinals, such as:
One Step closer to the bowl, is a big step towards civilization. (Perhaps an twisted inspiration from US astronaut landing on the imagined moon.)
However, the spillage speaks of the civilization; civic mindedness takes a decade or two to catch up. To be fair, some American have fallen, they do it openly on the streets. Well, the Indians have gone to the moon, but the toilets have yet to evolve. These are political decisions. No offence needed, but in Singapore, a heavy fine to impose discipline. Yes, free country, with freedom to express or pee and poo in the streets.
In a newly open highway to “multi colored Bay, Burjin, Xinjiang, well desssigned rest house, with toilets of modern designs are seen:
I hope my readers will enjoy reading my prose and my verses. The pictures are all taken from my REDMI hand phone, without any skill. There is no restriction in any photo taking or watching u tubes from the west or east, if you purchase a local SIM card.
The sole mountain range, carved by Nature’s might.
Twist and hairpin bends, wander the wonder;
Under water and snow, torn asunder.
Pastures, music and dance on the meadows;
Sky bridge span across, glass view gorge below.
Timid dare not trod, overwhelmed by fear;
Sounds of dessert wind, crack and shear the ears.
Strange landscape on walls, ghostly soils give shape;
Alpine river flows, pristine blue sky gape.
Rainbow on highways, traffic stop for herds;
Packets of sour milk, relieve more than words.
Wealth hides on earth, river diverts to farms;
Barren turns fertile, gorgeous ghostly charm.
Note:
Xinjiang has a land mass of a sixth of China, but has a population of only 26 millions (against China’s 1.4 billion). There are only 11 million Uyghurs. Geographically, the territory is divided by three mountain ranges and two plains. To the North of Tianshan is northern Xinjiang, and south of the mountain is Southern Xinjiang. We travelled only 11 days in the north, first by air to Urumqi via transit to Guangzhou.
It took us 4.5 to 5 hours to fly from KL to Urumqi, then about 5 hours at Guangzhou Airport (7 hours on way back due to flight changes), and another 5 hours to Urumqi. The long flight in air on on the bus was very hard to me. Fortunately I was given more space for my right leg to stretch in both transport. I have engaged a Personal Trainer to train , stretch and perform deep massage (using quasar, resistance bands) on my lower limbs, and I continue the same exercises in my tour, and also on my return to Malaysia. The sole of my Sketches walking shoe dropped off at Guangzhou airport, and I could only be seated at the Gate alone. My wife went scouting for gums and new shoes. Eventually, the shopkeeper , with new pairs of branded shoes came, but the price was RMB 2300. I didn’t have enough cash or credit to pay, However I was contented to waddle to the plane, until I had a spared pair of Clarke shoes in my big luggage, accessible only in my hotel. Rest of the journey went smoothly, even brisk walking , ascend and descend the hill and slopes, with my walking stick without much problems.
Some of the pictures were copied/pasted from the web, with appreciation to their owners. There is no commercial value for me.
On the third day of Chinese New Year holidays, my nephews and their family drove me to visit Fig Farm of Malaysia at Janda Baik, about an hour and half from my residence, in the rain with traffic congestion.
Janda in Malay means widow; Baik means good or righteous. I was curious to know how the name of the place come about. Mr. Syed, a civil engineer from Nottingham University, UK, related the history for me. There was once an orang asli (Malaysian aborigines; a settlement of them nearby) witch doctor who resides here. His wife ran away , reason unknown. He used his witchcraft skill to get the return of his wife; the place was then called Janda Balek. The local Malays changed Balek to Baik. The senior Syed wrote a thick book on Fig Culture in the Tropics, started a fig farm and harvested them for export, with lots of downstream products.
This place has become a resort area for city folks, with lots of Home Stays. It is a serene place, with misty hills and idyllic scene, and a fast running stream nearby. Unfortunately, the rain and construction caused some minor mud slide, and the litters and rubbish would soon destroyed its serenity and tranquility. Plans for landscaping could be for sale, with deforestation.
Rich people have their fun travel overseas in flaire. We have more humble needs, local tour, driving own car. We are lucky to have youngsters to assist in driving and act as unpaid guided tour. My brother asked, at this age, why tortured yourself with long distance car travel in such hot weather. Well, we are social beings, we need interaction with people and nature, and I need to seek inspiration for poetry.
Nasi Lemak (rice cooked with coconut milk etc) is a very common Malay cuisine, and is sold everywhere in the country, and yet Malaysians of all ethnicities shared and enjoy the dish. We had our dinner there before we drove back to Setia Alam, Selangor.
The sign board caught my eyes, WK, Wak Kentut,even in the dim of night. It is
translated by me as Fair Fart. It may sound vulgar, but it’s innocent .The business is excellent compared with neighbour shops. One can thrive selling one product well, if learn to reinvent in a modern market media world. I was requested to compose a poetry on food. Today is the last day of the year. We were invited tonight for dinner to Count Down. The toilet at the back of the restaurant were not the best place to count down…
I copied pasted the pictures from the website with appreciation to their owners. My computer added extra burden for me to unload my own pictures.
A primary Singapore school child (Std. 4, who had previously contributed two haiku in my blog) requested me to write a haiku on intertidal trail and marine conservation. I thought it was a good idea for school children to get away from their hand phone, and discover mother nature in the open. I have been to one when I was there. I am uncertain about the sandy spot where Marcus in “Hundred Years of Solitude” by Gabriel Garcia buried the magical parchment papers. The Singaporeans were blessed, but their destiny depended on the mindset of their future generations. Nothing is certain in a post pandemic world. In contrast, Malaysia was cursed by the Legend of Mahsuri; again uncertain it had any association with the minister bearing that curse from the island. Well, seven generation will be a few hundred years in history, depending on their longevity, adultery or corruption.
I caution the child to understand the sound and diction of haiku. Learn and ponder more on wander and wonder, and the choice of word, “steal”. We are conserving, so if every visitor “steal” (take what is not given) a piece home (& most likely throw away), you disturb nature ecosystem on balances. It is often such innocent and naive act that spoils. I do not like to moralize as a bias bystander, but it is for their teaches or guides to instruct well.
The pictures were all copied and pasted from the web with appreciation. I will delete them if copyright is infringed. There is no financial or other gain reading my poetry.
Niagara Falls was published in my first book as free verses. I have now re written as a sonnet, 14 lines of 10 syllables in each line, with abab end rhyme. The last line is changed.
The pictures were all copied and pasted from the web, with appreciation.
My apology for withdrawing the last haiku, as Susi Books wrote to me to submit three not one. They will be republished after three months.
After listening to the local guide’s
introduction of the churches, and government building, we had a passing glance
at an old Imperial building. I was attracted by the sign board, “Museum of
Broken Relationship”, not the 18th century Baroque.
The walls had glistening white paints, with displays of donated objects, with small print narratives. I read there was a restriction of less than a hundred departed loved items per exhibit, in order not to over flood the senses of hundred crowded visitors per day. I was a lone visitor to walk in that instant, and the pretty staff looked at me with a smile. I asked permission to snap some pictures, the book shelves, flags of T-shirts with slogans of “I love Broke Up”, and some mementoes. I must be too old to crack, but my classmate was courageous or crazy enough to marry a late 40’s at 73 years recently. Maybe it was companionship for him, but the Viagra will help to bond a little, and infertility will be God’s blessing. Human relationship are always very subtle, and even my old partner gets emotional, if I pry an eye or two at God’s other creations, from timeless past, fresher than current reality. “I grow old, I grow old; I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.” Well, Prufrock wasn’t clear whether the frock was rolled up or down!
Shared love-hate objects are loaded with emotion; treasured for the past, but hurt by perceived betrayal or mistrust. It takes time to part, to tease out the entangled knots out of the objects. These mementoes or cued recall are the cherished connections, reconstructed memorabilia or symbols, and more visible than emotion. The rage, jealousy, and all kinds of loss take meaning. We are reborn in catharsis; internalize and displaced with a new coating. We are inventor of meaning. Even for those who seek new dignity and supremacy have to find their stories to justify. Scientifically we may progress by leaps and bound, but deep within us, we are still tribal. Be aware, even if you are President, Prime Minister or God’s messengers.
“I’ve been getting the most intense workouts since I taped a picture of my ex on the heavy bag!”
P/S many thanks for the pictures and cartoons I have copied and pasted in this. There is no commercial gain for me. Many thanks also to co-founders and The Museum of Broken Relationship; you are the first to export such culture to the world.
wonkywizard 