It is astounding what one can see in China by riding a bike for three hours. The other day my friend Kevin and I had some free time to kill. We had the day off for our school's sports day., and in the spirit of all things athletic we decided to take a bike ride around some parts of Song Gang we had not yet had the pleasure to visit. On our way out, we were noticed by our school's security guard. Shanghai is his name. Within a second he asked where we were going. We told him we were going to do some exploring on our bikes and immediately he grabbed his motorcycle and told us to follow him. Without having a proper means to retort we acquiesced, after all he certainly knew the area better then we did.
Taking a left on Dong Fang Boulevard, we wizzed through the Chinese traffic with an awkward smoothness. Soon we took a right into a neighborhood of factories. Relieved as I was to get off the busy road, nothing seemed different to me. The area we were riding through had a perfunctory atmosphere common to our neighborhood complete with hardware shops, duck restaurants, and factory gates. This swiftly changed as we made our way up a dirt road and into the wilderness, well….at least as much wilderness as you can find in the industrial backwater of the city of Shenzhen. Soon our path became steep and the peddling process became too unbearable. Thus we decided to walk our bikes uphill for a period.
Soon Kevin and I realized that we were at a high enough elevation to see the wide open scenery of Song Gang. In front of us were sprawling hills obscured by scattered trash fires in the distance. Farther away through the haze, we could see the Tian Hong shopping center jutting out of the clouds of pollution with a persona of subtle mystery. Later we took off downhill along a rode of sharp turns and sleek switchbacks. The ride resembled the scene of Indian Jones running from a colossal rock behind him. With the wind brushing against my face I knew this was going to be a day of adventure.
At the end of the hill we came across a dusty gravel mine sooting up the air like a sand storm in the Gobi Desert. Shanghai informed us that we would soon be approaching the foot of Song Gang's main reservoir. As we made our way through the lichee orchards, I could see the mighty body of water in the distance. This reservoir, I learned, provided the bulk of Bao'An County's water supply. At this point Shanghai told us to stop and take a rest so we could look at something special. We approached the gate of a complex with loud screeching sounds coming from inside. Upon entering I noticed a racetrack with small racing cars Shanghai referred to as Ke Ling Ches. Shanghai was showing us one of the many leisure activities that are now enjoyed by China's growing Middle Class. Perhaps one day, Nascar might be considered as a Chinese sport. Onwards we biked, passing golf fields and large estates of China's wealthy and prosperous perched on a hill overlooking the reservoir, lichee orchards, and golf greens. Soon we would be going back uphill.
However, the scenery we were passing began to change dramatically. On our way up hill we observed a separate part of China. Just up the hill from the playgrounds of the Middle Class and the townhouses of the elite were the dwellings of Chinese forgotten by the China's economic development. These were the peasant class, a class that had been here before the rise of Shenzhen's construction cranes sprouted by capitalist experimentation. They lived in simple huts made out of trash, raw materials, and cloth. These simple hovels had an inherit quality of a mongolian Urk except not nearly as sturdy. China is one of those amazing countries where one can see the lives of its most prominent and desperate citizens within a five minute bike ride of each other.
After passing the top of the hill, we let gravity pull us downwards with an impressive speed, gliding alongside a massive cemetery on the way down. The cemetery was designed like one of China's leveled fields, nicely engraved on the side of the hill with delicate precision. Taking a sharp right, we made our way down a brick path surrounded by vegetable agriculture fields where we saw China's peasant class hard at work. These were the people celebrated in China's recent past. Now they have been left in the shadows on Shenzhen's great high rises.
However I will say the beauty of their environment far exceeded that of Shenzhen's finical districts. The shining rays of the sun gave way to sprawling emerald hills and a valley of lined fields with a circumference dotted by banana trees. The area had many of the same features as Vietnam. Of course, this isn't very surprising since South China is geographically and culturally congruent to Vietnam. As we swerved through the narrow jungle roads, Shanghai informed me that people had been living in this area for 6,000 years, and yet the irony of this was that the area is still primarily green space, preserved from the massive industrial growth of Shenzhen's Special Economic Zone, at least for the time being. Eventually we made our way into Phoenix Mountain, a notable public park in Bao'An. There I could see more examples of the Chinese middle class at play. The elderly, middle school students playing hooky, Chinese yuppies, and Chipsters (Chinese Hispters) all enjoying a day out at the park flying kites, kicking jianzi, or just strolling in the open air.
After leaving the park, Shanghai took us to something truly special. At the end of the street we stopped at a Pagoda. The six story tower was clearly worn from age as was the attendant inside. After exchanging a few words with her, she agreed to let us explore inside and make our way up the narrow stepping latters that lead to the top. On each floor we could see a small alter, although the religion appeared ambiguous since there were Buddhas, Taoist masters, and figures from Chinese popular religion all included in the displays. At the top floor, I peered outside the window to escape the smell of dust and incense overpowering my head. Outside I could see a McDonalds and Chinese Construction Bank, observing once again another paradox China presents, a mix between the modern and traditional, where globalized fast food chains and temples can be found across the street from each other. We made our way out of the pagoda and felt blessed by the experience. However the most exciting (and dangerous) part of our journey was yet to come.
Shanghai led us down a road of western fast-food restaurants and shopping complexes and proceeded to turn onto a ramp that converged through the freeway. There we were, a couple of bicycles in the middle of Chinese traffic. At that moment, i possessed a fear I have felt few times in my life. Yet despite the extreme sense of danger I felt, the faces of the pedestrians nearby were ambiguous and at ease. These short cuts were common place here in China, and after all that I had experienced already, I felt compelled to except it.
Obviously we got back safe, and when I feel up to it, I'm sure I will do it again. If this bike ride taught me anything, it is that China is a nation of many societies. It is a society of factories, a society of golf courses, a society of farmers, a society of work, a society of leisure, a society of industry, a society of nature, and most importantly a society of new and a society of old. It is a country of paradoxes swirling around the buddhist wheel of the universe which contains all things throughout the processes of creation, life, destruction, and rebirth. I have given myself an impossible task in understanding China, for one simply cannot, within a conventional span of a lifetime, attempt to understand China. A friend once told me, if you are in China for three months you feel like you can write a book about it. If you're in China for a year you can find little to say about it. If you have been in China for ten years, you won't have the foggiest idea what China is anymore. I guess my quest is a forever bike ride along Paradox Road.
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