Margot | West Slope of Cangshan Mountain | The fascinating “other side”
A day in the life of a mountain dweller in Xipo
"I am our worst leader." As soon asHe Chen finished speaking, I burst into laughter. I love hearing this kind of words. The implication is that today's journey will be very leisurely! Moreover, how could a team leader introduce himself like this, hahaha!
Poor physical fitness, but excellent driving skills. The route to Xipo is not short, running from the east to the west of Cangshan Mountain, and then driving a long winding cement road after leaving the highway. The sharp turns and steep slopes are daunting, especially when two cars meet on a narrow road, but it feels that everything is under control of He Chen. The whole journey has a weird feeling of constantly switching between anxiety and calmness.
The traffic jam during the Spring Festival made the journey a little longer than usual. He Chen was very talkative, and he got along well with Duoduo, who was about ten years old, and he also told me about the customs and practices of Guangdong. He said that there was an ideal resort near Baiyun Mountain that was a good place for camping, and that a goose cost hundreds of yuan at a delicious farmhouse nearby. He also told me about the fireworks and the vigor of the citizens in Guangzhou, which made me want to share some changes in the southern news in recent years and the changes in the atmosphere of the entire city of Guangzhou.
When the car reached the highway opposite Yangbi County, we could see the continuous snow-capped peaks of Cangshan Mountain from the back, which were particularly white and sacred in the sun. At that time, He Chen talked about the differences between the Torch Festival of the Bai and Yi ethnic groups, the worship ceremony on the Nujiang River, the origin of the Bai and Han ethnic groups, and how Kublai Khan defeated Dali in the past... He was so knowledgeable! He said he didn't know much about plants, but he did a lot of popular science along the way. When we first entered the mountain, we were told that there were purple primroses, but this was a general name. Later, halfway up the mountain, we really saw a patch of lavender flowers on the opposite mountain, from the mountainside to the mountain stream.
We had dinner at a farmer's house ( Xiao Ayan's ) halfway up the mountain. The house was backed by the west slope of Cangshan Mountain and faced the valley. We could overlook the winding road we had come from, which was like terraced fields. There were two or three two- or three-story bungalows. There was a flat area at the door, which was the yard. Down the yard were sheds for cattle, sheep, pigs and chickens, and a large pile of dried ferns. There were beehives, vegetable gardens, wheat fields, walnuts, camellias, and azaleas around the house... There was rice to cook, tiles to cover the head, and flowers to admire. It was a happy and contented place.
We ate Gaohe pickled vegetables, mustard greens whose soup was sweet, pickled bacon, sausages, and glutinous rice for dinner. He Chen said that they were bought from the foot of the mountain, and it was a sign of respect for the guests. Yes, in the countryside, it is a bit extravagant to go out and buy ingredients for a dinner, but in the city, cooking by yourself is considered attentive. Interesting.
He Chen said that the west slope of Cangshan Mountain is a primeval forest, while the east slope is planted artificially. Oh, this completely explains why the vegetation on the east slope is so monotonous. Then he talked about the wave that swept across the country sixty or seventy years ago. People smashed their iron pots at home to make steel, and cut down trees in the mountains to add firewood. I wonder if the people who want to cut down trees will feel awe or reluctance in front of a towering ancient tree. It is definitely not something that can be cut down with one knife. I don’t know how many times it will be repeated, how much juice will flow and how much sawdust will be splashed.
I thought of "Tree King". For people who believe in animism, such death is a bit cruel. The west slope of Cangshan Mountain is also full of "death", almost all of which are natural withering or competition between species. Many giant trees fell in the road, leaving a stump on the side of the road. The walnut tree was left with only bare branches.
But death is full of vitality. The most shocking thing is the strangulation of plants and parasitism everywhere. There is also the bright red horsetail azalea. "Don't you think it looks like a red tasseled spear?" He Chen said. I looked at the flower. A cluster is the size of a bowl, and it is piled up in a bell shape. It is as red as fire and generously gorgeous. It is the color and temperament of the south. There was also an inexplicable fragrance along the way. I thought it was some kind of plant. Later, I asked and found out that it was the fragrance of the wild fan flower on the side of the road. I got to know a lot of new plants that day.
I prefer sunsets to sunrises, which are sometimes really tiring. He Chen kept sighing at the beauty of the sunset and the evening glow. Later, he talked about his previous cycling experience in Tibet and his favorite literary works. His life is as colorful and bizarre as his reading, which is completely different from the experience of people like me who follow the rules, are cowardly and overly concerned, and rely on industrial civilization. Even the styles of the works we like are completely different. I can't even remember the names of the writers and works he mentioned, and he can't appreciate Dostoyevsky.
But I like this kind of conversation, a conversation that shows you a different "other side". I finally saw the moving aspects of these works and stories, which I could not appreciate from my own perspective. Because of this kind of conversation, you can at least try to see, appreciate and understand from the perspective of a real person.
He Chen said a lot of things along the way, and the one that impressed me the most was "Isn't reading just to kill time?" It has been a long time since anyone told me that the purpose of doing something is to kill time, and there is no other purpose. Even with our best friends, we think that because time is precious, we should spend time on the people and things we like. Or, in other words, the best gift for each other is time. We have almost forgotten that time is not as scarce as we think. On the contrary, it needs to be killed, and there is plenty of it.
I thought of a sentence I saw online before: People come to this world to serve. The world is a prison, the body is a prison uniform, and other people are hell. Once the service period is completed, you will be free.
On the way back, we saw the endless snow-capped mountains and the new moon on the fourth day of the New Year.
