Letter from Kunming
1989; University of Iowa; Volume: 19; Issue: 3 Linguagem: Inglês
10.17077/0021-065x.3805
ISSN2330-0361
Autores ResumoThis was particularly true in Kunming, the City of Eternal Spring, lo cated on a high, lush plateau in extreme southwest China, bordering Viet nam. I began by visiting the great treasures of Kunming like a faithful de votee of the guidebooks: first, the Bamboo Temple, where Buddha's five hundred followers fill the tiers of two halls, sculpted as if by Goya and Dali to create the ultimate congregation of surrealism, expressionism, and de mentia; then, Dragon's Gate, a series of paths, stairways, and tunnels link ing a succession of stone temples perched in thin air, the whole honeycomb carved out of a sheer cliff above Kunming Lake like a precarious catwalk gouged into the walls of the Sears Tower; and last, the Stone Forest, the most celebrated sight in this region of the Orient, a vast limestone cave raised entirely above ground, its dome lopped off by the eons and exposed to the clear sky. All three were extraordinary sights, sights unlike any others in China, unlike any others on earth. . . . Yet what remains with me of Kunming is as ordinary as an airplane ride, a hotel room, a side street, a dinner in which every dish is fashioned from a single goat. It is how things are done that lasts. I had flown into Kunming on CAAC, the government airline routinely described as the world's'worst, and found myself for the first time in China aboard a well-appointed, modern jet. The seats, even the seatbelts, of this Boeing 737 clone were unbroken; the air supply cones shone above our heads like stars at the entrance to a new era; but my fellow passengers, bound for home, had not advanced at breakneck speed into this Age of High Technology. Perhaps none had ever flown on a jet. They boarded the plane as they would a city bus, shoving every step of the way, across the airstrip, up the stairs, and into their seats, which had, of course, been as signed and reserved all along. Stranger still, I pushed as hard as they did, for even less reason. Once seated, their pace became even more frenzied. Over whelmed by the smooth plastic and vinyl splendors of the cabin, my fellow passengers could not keep their hands off the reading lamp switches or air
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