Dazu Days

Clean City

If you've spent a good deal of time in China's great, heaving provincial capitals, a visit to a small, out of the way, clean & tidy township is a most welcome alternative. Dazu city in the Chongqing administrative area is one such place: a modest venue that has conscientiously avoided the pitfalls of other cities and tourist venues of its size by making a firm commitment to maintain itself as a self-proclaimed "destination of quality".

This motto can be seen on billboards throughout the city centre itself, and I had to admit that, wandering around the clean, spacious streets looking for appropriate accommodation, this quality-consciousness has had a marked effect. Litter was almost non-existent: cars were relatively few and bicycles (and not too many at that) were the transport mode of choice, the majority of taxis being also bicycle rickshaws. Dazu is PEACEFUL in the way you imagine Chinese cities should be before you arrive in the country and realise that China is far too densely populated for anything resembling quiet.

The real reason for coming to Dazu is, however, the old cliffside carvings dating back to the Song and Tang dynasties. In several sites around the city, mountainside rock opens into private grottoes detailed in hundreds, if not thousands, of exquisite sculptures depicting Buddhist scenes and manifestations of the Buddha in varying postures. Devotees had worked on the carvings for centuries during Dazu's heyday as a wealthy and popular city in ancient times - the name Dazu itself suggestive of great opulence. Nowadays in Dazu's more subdued role as a prefecture governed by Chongqing, the site attracts hundreds of local and international visitors every year.

The bus from Chongqing's long distance station takes two and a half hours to get to Dazu, and I'd originally planned to visit there in the morning and return in the evening of the same day, an itinerary that, given the diminutive size of Dazu and the relative proximity of the grottoes to the city centre, would have been entirely possible. My plan failed: I'd stayed up late the night before in a Taiwanese soymilk cafe learning mahjong with a bunch of students and hadn't slept until morning. Without really thinking about it, I left Chongqing far too late to arrive in Dazu in any good time. As I had feared when I had bothered to consider this on the bus, I arrived after the closing time and thus decided to stay over and see the carvings the next day.

The miscalculation turned out to be to my advantage, as I had the opportunity to wander around the genuine Dazu lifestyle areas and see just how gorgeous the town itself actually is - an observation I might have missed had I followed my original plan.

Dazu is small enough that it's unnecessary to take any transport to anywhere in the city, although bus route number one will take you right around the main roads. I walked Northwards from the long distance bus station and within ten minutes found myself at a large intersection dominated by a splendid mural carved in dyed marble, depicting the artists of ancient times working studiously up on the mountainside rocks, overshadowed by a great Buddha seated in a circle of light.

I took a right and walked on. Having not bothered to bring any guide books, I didn't really have much idea about where to look for reasonable accommodation, and so worked by instinct to figure out where travellers' hostels were likely to be. I lucked upon one just a few minute's walk from a grand public square (Hongsheng Cultural Square) called the Traffic Hotel (Jiaotong Bingguan) that looked very comfortable. The price was higher than I'd hoped, and so I tentatively asked for a significant discount that was immediately and without complaint accepted.

After checking in, I spent the evening walking around the main streets. Dazu doesn't pretend to be as developed as other towns; merchandise at streetside outlets is limited and there is no map of the city available in these stalls as there usually is in larger places. The cleanliness really struck me the most at Hongsheng Cultural Square, where several classical statues stand posing around a sparkling fountain. Hongsheng square is relatively massive and well lit, and is surrounded by some remarkably stylish housing developments.

I walked to the rear of the park where some healthy looking middle-aged residents where putting the exercise equipment there to good use in the late evening dim. Their children were opposite in a playground with swings and slides. I sat next to a very young girl who eyed me suspiciously and asked me if I was Korean. I laughed and told her I was a Caucasian New Zealander, but taught her the Korean word for 'hello' as a consolation prize. She ran across the square, shouting to her mother, 'Mama! Mama! I can speak Korean!'

Back at the Traffic, I found sleep tough again. At around 2 a.m. I stepped out onto the balcony. It was raining lightly, and the sky flashed occasionally with distant lightening, common in Central China. A dark-skinned labourer in a white vest and slacks stood next to me, smoking, and we talked history, and he told me tales of China's old Dynastic glory.

Dazu Daze

The following day was misty and hot, and in the fog Dazu looked a little like central Chongqing. I hunted for some warm rice porridge and asked around the town about the best way to get to the grottoes and which ones were the most attractive, and how much was the cost. It's not always a good idea to ask for travel advice from people on the street: in China, people are often so friendly and eager to help that they'll provide instructions and directions regardless of whether or not they know the information you need. I received conflicting stories from everyone I asked, and so decided to try to find the way myself, and figured I'd try what seemed to me to be the closest grotto in the North, which would also allow me to visit Dazu's tourist mountain, Bei Shan.

Here's a travel tip: if you're thinking of climbing Dazu's Bei Shan, pick a day when it hasn't been raining, or wear some very good shoes with a strong grip. By the time I was halfway up, I was miserable, inching forward on the slippery marble blocks spead over with wet soil, determined to make it without toppling over and muddying the only pants I'd brought with me from Chongqing. The scenery was fantastic, a maze of stone paths through mossy groves of verdant forest, and at the halfway point a striking angular statue of a military general watches over a steep staircase of rock: but the temperature in the moist air under the trees was horrific and I was perspiring in uncomfortable, itchy torrents. Every time the mountain looked like it was going to resolve in some kind of peak, it didn't - each crest led to further winding pathways and soon I was getting more than a little frustrated. Annoyingly, the very top of the mountain is inaccessible - the paths lead up to a fenced-off cliff edge and there's no way around them. The panorama of the city is obscured by impenetrable foliage too, and there's no way to see out over any countryside either. Interestingly, there were a few private orchards at the top, also walled off - a farmer sitting at his gate watched me bemusedly as if he, like myself, was wondering why I'd bothered to come. Nothing to see there - better to stop at the artificial lake set about 3/4 of the way up where families were paddling little boats through the late morning mist.

A second travel tip: the North Grotto is just on the other side of the same mountain, meaning that if you follow the signs and go all the way down the mountain to get to the grotto entrance you'll be doubling back. I ignored the heat and walked for almost 40 minutes to get not 100 metres from where I'd been on the mount, which was particularly demoralising. Furthermore, the price estimates I'd received were way out - noone had told me that the ticket would cost more than the Forbidden City in Beijing. It was already too late to turn back, however, and so I paid and entered.

There's one last thing I wish I'd been clear on before I left for Dazu - the most spectacular grotto is not at Bei Shan, but 12km away from the town at Baoding. All the fantastic photos you'll see of the Reclining Buddha and other outstanding carvings are all there - Bei Shan is almost as expensive, but nowhere near as impressive. This is not to say that I was disappointed, however: there were plenty of sculptures to see, and I was delighted to see what has to be the Mona Lisa of Dazu - a perfectly subtle and beautiful rendition of Avolokiteshvara, known in China as Guanyin Fo, the Goddess of Mercy. I found her sitting unassumingly in her posture of stone, quite close to the ground, one arm stretched casually over her raised knee - and I stooped to examine her face, which had a thousand expressions depending on the angle of light and the angle of the observer. Her chubby, cheeky smile was inestimably peaceful.

I was running out of time, and convinced the merchants outside that I wasn't going to buy anything, and that the only thing I was prepared to pay for was a motorcycle taxi to the long distance bus station - a thrilling ride for only 6 yuan. The day wasn't going so badly after all, and I reflected that even though I hadn't seen the most extraodinary grotto, even if I hadn't really got what I was hoping for out of my dangerous ascent of Bei Shan, I was still thrilled to be in such a place. Perhaps the Goddess of Mercy had smiled for me: I was the much gratified recipient of one of the best cheap lunches I've ever eaten in China - prepared by the Cookery God of the kitchen of the small diner Chang Hong Jiu Dian just across and to the left of the front door of the bus station. It looked ordinary enough from outside, but the dishes 'thrown together' for me by the casually cheerful shirtless young man who took my order were not ordinary in the least. I left Dazu in the highest of moods and with the fullest of stomachs, and with no regrets whatsoever.