sofasurfers

Yesterday I scaled a mountain – Huashen, which indeed means Flower
Mountain, and which stands at 2080m. And – of course – it was a
psychological and physical conquest. So I’m going at it with
characteristic gungho, until I finally admit to myself – on this
extremely steep and narrow ridge – that I’m terrified, and not
enjoying the view in the slightest. Can mountains fall over? I was
convinced that this one would, so precarious was this path. Of course,
this didn’t deter the Chinese tourists at all, who pluckily continued
– it reminded me of the Chinese spirit that I have observed here.
China is really is the land of possibility: anything, so they believe,
is possible here. So I retreated defeated. I found a much more sedate
path, where I joyfully stumbled upon this tree porn! And then this
sign! That would have made my day, but then my curiosity drove me on
(I wonder, I thought, what lies beyond the brow of this hill?) Thus,
several molehills maketh a mountain - I eventually realised I could
do the mountain after all, and so I did it, and no, the mountain
didn’t fall over. Very busy and very noisy Chinese was the theme of
the climb: there were constant shouts as they tried to hear their own
echo, but no sooner had one shouted, that another drowned his echo
with another shout. And then there were the ominous-sounding
explosions every so often (not good for my nerves). I returned to the
foothills of the mountain somewhat in admiration of the Chinese drive
to do, compared to the British (as solely represented by yours truly)
ease at defeat. It reminded my of my hosts’ thoughts (I’d asked them
if they thought they were becoming more Chinese in attitude, owing to
their love of noise and busy-ness). “Oh sure,” said Gareth. “Everyone
thinks China wants to conquer the world. They don’t – they just want
to make their own country great.” To conquer their own mountains, you
could say.

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