"Once in the Phoenix Tower
the phoenix paced
Now the phoenix has gone
the tower empty,
only the river flowing on"
Historic Fort where battles long ago were fought
On a trip to China, we were lucky to track down the legendry Phoenix Town or Fenghuang, complete with an ancient fortress and tower making Li's poem come alive. Buried deep in the heart of Western Hunan, Fenghuang may not have originated from the phoenix of Li,s poem. But it too has a long history stretching back 500 years.
Lying within the Xiangxi, Tujia and Miao Autonomous Prefecture, it has a population of 20,000 comprising a mix of Han as well as Tujia and Miao minorities. As Fenghuang has all the rustic charms so attractive to intrepid Western travellers, we were rather surprised not to encounter any during our visit.
Perhaps what has helped to preserve Fenghuang as a rural backwater hardly touched by tourism is the fact that it lies so well of the main communication lines. Also its tourist facilities are so little developed and language pose a great hurdle. The nearest railway line is 53km away at the town of Jishou which in turn is 503km fromthe provincial capital of Changsha.
Fenghuang's Old Square
In China the phoenix is revered as the precursor of fortune. According to a legend, Fenghuang was once an arid forsaken village until it was visited and blessed by the phoenix which bestowed rain, fertility and prosperity to the area. Subsequently, it was renamed to honour and commemorate its benefactor.
Today, the only phoenixes around are those that still adorn some of the decorative rooftops in Fenghuang remaining as visible reminders of this mystical bird.
Although Phoenix Town wears a lost forgotten aura,it lays claim to having brought forth three famous sons. The first prime minister of China, Xiong Xiling was a native of Fenghuang while critically-acclaimed writer, Shen Congwen was also born and bred in the locality. Another cultural figure to emerge from Fenghuang's fertile soil is contemporary artist and calligrapher Huang Yong Yu. All these, explained the guide who accompanied us on our walkabout, were manfestations of the beneficence of the phoenix.
To reach Fenghuang we boarded a local bus from the Jishou Bus Station. The ride took us past wild, meandering mountain roads flanked by neat plots of farmlands hibernating quietly under wintry skies.
The best way to savour the picturesque Chinese town is to take a walking tour. Leading off from the bus station is the bustling one lane bazaar where locals carry on their daily trade and commerce. Some curious sights greeted us on our stroll: an open air clinic with a white robed doctor in attendance; seamstresses furiously pedallling intricate embroidery designs on their sewing machines; and colourful wild game dangling from street stalls. Then there was the night soil man trundling past with his dangerous cargo: old men sitting in the sun and young children riding piggy-back in wicker baskets.
Faces of Fenghuang
Old women visiting the dentist
An Open Air Clinic, Fenghuang
The birthplace and home of novelist Shen Congwen
Our first destination in Fenghuang was the birthplace of writer Shen Congwen. Shen passed away in 1988. His house of black wood timber tucked away in a quiet lane, is in a well preserved state. As Shen's celebrated novel Border Town was based on his childhood memories in this remote part of China, we were intrigued by the opportunity to probe into the psyche of this man as we explored his birthplace.
Shen Congwen writing about his beloved Fenghuang:
"...all through the middle reaches of the river in autumn and winter your eyes are caught by the cottages perched on crags overhanging the water. With their brown mud walls, black tiles and perfect setting they harmonize so completely with the surroundings that your heart leaps up in delight. Any traveller withthe least feeling for poetry or painting could drift here...spellbound"
From Shen's house it was natural for us to wander down to the river front to experience the place described by Shen's vivid prose
Late Autumn by the banks of the Tuojiang
The Tuojiang river lies just outside the fortress-like North Gate where roughly-hewn flagstone steps lead down to the water. Here, housewives pound washing with wooden paddles by the riverside, coolies balancing long poles spring lithely across a narrow log bridge, and fishermen with cormorants make their catch.
The harmony of the Tuojiang is a place apart
Although the "brown mud walls"of houses have been replaced by concrete, the setting and ambience appeared to have been fossilized from Shen,s novel. Tuojiang still flows endlessly. Dark crags still encircle the quayside houses. And trees still wear their late autumnal colours while the people's lives continue to hum around the riverside. The fortress, the river and the love story of Emerald the ferryman's daughter are at the enigmatic heart of Fenghuang or the Border Town.
"standing at dusk on a high place in that town which stood impressively alone in the embrace of endless mountain ranges and gazing at the distant weathered walls which were all that remained of ancient forts, I could almost hear the horns blaring and see the torches blazing to warn of danger..."
Life is slow, simple and dreamy. We stopped to admire the garden of a resident and was warmly invited in for a rest. Zhang Junwu the owner, is 70 years old. Like a refined mandarin,he passes his time tending to flowers, composing poetry and practicing calligraphy. With gentle courtesy, he takes up his brush to dedicate a poem to mark his chance affinity with his unexpected guests
Fenghuang however was not all literature and poetry. It had its darker side as well. Towards the end of our trip, we were caught in an ugly incident with some local men. To be fair, the incident may have arisen out of cultural differences or a miscommunication.
My avid photographer husband had just taken a couple of shots at the Fenghuang Bus Station when he suddenly found himself surrounded by four thuggish looking locals. A fast and bewildering exchange ensued. Than a savage kick from the back floored him.
As he struggled to get up, he was downed by a punch from the front. Our guide who at the start of the scuffle was at the far end of the station, was instantly by his side, quickly dispensing cigarettes and dispelling the tension. The violence was so quickly quashed that we couldn't believe it had really happened.
Though shaken, the brief tussle did not sour our impression of Fenghuang. Rather, it sharpened our perception of the existence of the hard and gentle in this far off location. The sudden spill of energy in this otherwise placid community reminded us of the characters in Shen's novel "who are torn by love and hate, exactly what fills their minds it is hard to say"
As we pulled away from this place of stirring beauty that conceals a well of explosive emotions, Fenghuang's magic spun a web in our hearts, beckoning us with powerful tugs to return again.
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