Rambling around my ancestral Hainan
Bell Tower and Evergreen Park again, shopping at Old Haikou
After lunch at a Daying Road café, we hail an electric rickshaw. The fare quoted to the Bell Tower is 9 RMB, which I bargain down to 8 RMB. The young owner’s round face is almost fully covered with a woollen mask, shielding it from the grime of traffic fumes and harmful rays of the sun. Although he is wearing a jacket, a pair of pants, a pair of shoes, and a pair of gloves that expose only his finger digits, he says he is feeling cold. I suppose he is right; for the slightest of wind will chill the bones of any person who remains stationary like he does on his seat for three or four hours during a winter morning, it being the tenth of January.
Only twenty-five years of age, Weng Zhong Jian (翁忠健) leaves his family home in Wenchang to work in Haikou. He has an aunt who is living in Singapore. He is a jovial but humble person. In answer to my questions in pidgin Hainanese and Mandarin, he frankly reveals he is engaging in this profession because of his disinterest in studies. The higher fuel and electricity cost, he laments, is making his job financially more difficult.
“Are you married?” I probe.
“No.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
He laughed. “No. How can I afford one with my kind of income?”
Weng Zhong Jian, a happy and smiling pedicab driver
翁忠健他是一个快乐和微笑三轮车夫
As we converse, I silently deliberate over the prospect for a young trishaw driver like him. A decade hence, Hainan will be an even more prosperous province. More cabs will ply the street. Will there be enough passengers to augment the meagre income of trishaw drivers? [Sadly for him, in 2015, the trishaw was banned in Haikou central because of road congestion and safety reason.]
During the nineteen-fifties, numerous pedicabs crowded the streets of Singapore in competition with buses, taxis, and trams for local patrons. Now, only tourists book them for the exotic thrill of their foreign excursion. When my wife and I disembark at the corner of Changdi Road and Xinhua South Road, I - generously - part with 10 RMB. “What is an extra 1 or 2 RMB; it is only 20 or 40 cents,” I mumble to myself. He deserves it. Frequent oil price increases from global scarcity have hit the citizens here. It will only get worse if fuel, and hence electricity cost accelerates.
Jo’s attention is gripped by the bustling activities near the shops at the top end of old Haikou. Resolving to visit them later, we cross the road to have a better view of Bell Tower. We pause in the middle of Renmin Bridge walkway, to watch the river scene below us while vehicles are zooming past behind us along their lanes. After crossing the bridge, we descend the flight of stairs to Haidian East Road.
Standing on Remin Bridge looking down at Haidian River
站在人民桥, 低头看着海海甸河
Four open-back trucks are parked near the stairs. They have their sides unhinged to reveal their ware: papaya. A cardboard sign on each vehicle declares the price: 1 yuan per jin (20 cents per half kilogram). That is very cheap for Australian or Singaporean tourists; they are paying about A$2 or S$2 per kilogram back home. The skins of the fruits are a mixture of green and light-yellow. They are unbruised. A few more days and the highly nutritious fruits may be consumed. They are tempting. Unfortunately for us, they are too heavy to lug around.
Papaya for 40 cents a kilogram: very cheap
木瓜4（新加坡）毛钱一公斤：非常便宜
Beneath an arch of the bridge is a square table around which three elderly men and one woman are seated, playing cards. Near them on the floor is a large plastic sheet displayed with goods rescued from household rubbish bins. The vendor is arranging the items while three squatting onlookers inspect his ware. Under the next arch is a hawker with his push cart on which are plates of marinated fish, cuttlefish, and clams. He is ready to cook any order in his wok, heated by the burning fuel from the portable gas cylinder. I am impressed by the resourcefulness and self-reliance of the people here.
Along the narrow pavement by the river are the fishmongers and their wares. Like me, Jo is also fascinated, although fewer sellers, clients, and spectators are still lingering around. I point to the fishermen living in those boats anchored by the river bank. Two - a man and his wife - are repairing their net on the pavement. In addition to his two small green turtles swimming aimlessly in a plastic basin, a tray of sea cucumbers, a net of about ten crabs, and a large tray of oysters, a young couple is also peddling two adult pheasants and three small birds that resemble quails.
Fish and other seafood are on sale, and also pheasants and Chukar partridge
鱼，龙虾，螃蟹，海参，海等产品销售; 也雉鸡和石鸡
Professor Liang Wei later confirms the identity of the full-grown pheasants: they are Common Pheasants. The Common Pheasant is to be distinguished from the Hainan Peacock-Pheasant, although both species belong to the same pheasant family, Phasianidae. The two caged pheasants are about forty centimetres in height. They have reddish-brown feathers and they are very attractive. They are also probably female. Except for the round red patch surrounding their eyes and their yellowish beaks, the upper part of their neck is bluish-black. I wish they could live a carefree life in the forest, instead of showing up on someone’s dinner plate.
Their legs trussed separately, the small birds are light greyish-brown in colour with six pairs of alternating dark-brown and white strips on both sides of their body under their short wings. Their beaks are tiny, dark-red, and hooked while their legs are light-red. On their throats, just below their beaks and eyes, is a white patch. They are not quails.
They are Chukar Partridges. Professor Liang may not know it but he has enlightened me. I now have a vivid conception, although a sad one, of a partridge when I next sing the “Twelve Days of Christmas” in church.
“On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
A Partridge on a Pear Tree….”
The Chukar Partridge takes its names from its call: “chukar chukar”. It also belongs to the pheasant family, Phasianidae. It is a magnificent bird like the Common Pheasant and Peacock-Pheasant. While the three Chukar Partridges I encounter are about twenty centimetres in height, an adult can grow to thirty-eight centimetres. They are native to Asia and Western Europe but introduced into England, Europe, Canada, New Zealand, and U.S.A. for sports hunting. These plump gamebirds take short but quick flight when flushed from the bush. They are not found in Australia. Their diet consists of insects, seeds, shoots, and buds. In Lushan town, Jiangxi, a local dish is known as Three-cup Chukar: the meat is braised in three cups of liquid - wine, soya sauce, and lard. Fortunately, unlike the Hainan Hill-Partridge, the Chukar Partridge is not a species “vulnerable” to extinction.
Around three in the afternoon, we catch a bus to Wanlu Park. Jo is impressed by its size and layout. In this expanse of green, some city workers are taking a respite. They are sitting on benches, talking. It is a slightly windy day, ideal for four unrelated persons to fly their kites at the vacant field. They draw some passerbys. The kites are ordinary; yet the normal spectacle reveals the freedom local residents now relish, indulging in an innocuous pastime. Not so long ago, kite-flying was denounced as a bourgeois activity, potentially earning the flyer a three-year jail.
Over at the exercise area is a man in his mid-fifties. He is extremely fit. With his legs lifted horizontally to the ground, he agilely swings himself from one end to the other end of the parallel bar. He cheerfully repeats his skill for Jo to snap a souvenir shot.
Gentleman doing exercise in Wanlu Park
绅士做运动在万绿湖公园
Nearer to the beach is a cute but strange-looking bird, strutting around the deserted patch of grass that is shaded under the branches and foliage of some tall trees. About thirty centimetres in length, it pauses intermittently, its “chopstick” beak probing the ground, apparently for insects or worms. Its black wings are marked with five white stripes, making it an aerial zebra, while its long and slender grey beak and crown of feathers give its head the visual impression of a hammer or chisel. Its entire slim body, including its crown, is light-brown, except that the crown of feathers has short black strips.
What an array of colours! Excluding the myna, this is the fifth species of bird that I have spotted in Wanlu Park. It is amazing that the bird life here is so rich. Is it a woodpecker?
A Eurasian hoopoe, says Professor Liang. Hoopoes are related to kingfishers; they belong to the Coraciiformes order. Resident in Asia and equatorial Africa, they are territorial and aggressive, fighting and even stabbing their rivals in the eye, thus blinding them. They secrete a foul-smelling liquid to deter predators. And they are not afraid of people. In Judaism, hoopoes, eagles, owls, seagulls, and vultures, are forbidden from human consumption.
Is it a woodpecker? A Eurasian hoopoe, says Professor Liang Wei
它是不是一个啄木鸟？ 不是; 它是一个戴勝, 梁伟 (学教授, 海南师范大学) 说
Interestingly, a national bird contest was held in Israel in 2007. After six months of voting, the finalists included the bulbul, night owl, red falcon, goldfinch, honeysucker, spur-winged plover, griffon vulture, warbler, and white-crested kingfisher. The following year, Prime Minister Shimon Peres announced the winner: 30 percent of the votes went to the hoopoe, followed by the tiny warbler with 10.3 percent and the finch with 9.8 percent. The hoopoe became their national bird.
Strolling around the park, we reach an arched bridge, where some people are leaning over its sides to inspect the salt-water river. Have they found something fascinating? Curious, we join them. A spelling error in the name of the bridge has been made on the small plaque, I confidently inform myself; the “V” in “LV YUAN JIAO” (“Green Garden Bridge”) should be replaced with a “U”. “Lu” in Chinese means “Green”. Little do I know until I consult my pocket dictionary that, in Hanyu Pinyin, the letter “u” carries the diacritical mark of two dots (ü) in some instances where it follows the letters “l” and “n”. The words “lü” and “nü” for the green colour and a girl respectively are pronounced like “lee” and “nee”, and rendered as “lv” and “nv” even by computer translation program.
Because it is low tide, the water is shallow, although the river bed, which we estimate to be about two metres below the surface, is not visible. No weeds float on the water surface or underneath, which would evidence its pristine conditions. A middle-aged man in his late fifties is fishing from the bridge while a couple and their young son are fishing from the partially rocky bank of the receding river. Their fishing equipment is odd: a quarter-litre open-neck glass bottle containing a pellet of flour. When it is hauled up, the unwary small fish trapped feeding greedily is only five centimetres in length.
Lǜ Yuán Qiáo (Green Garden Bridge)
绿园桥
Walking upstream along the path beside the river, we come to the terminus, a pond, where nineteen small fibre-glass paddle boats are moored to a long floating platform. Fitted with Donald Duck heads, these rental toys will attract holiday makers. But today, only one is moving, with a young couple in it. They must be on holiday too. Our casual tour has come to an end. We are famished for dinner at the nearby cafe. It is evening.
Crowds flock the streets of Old Haikou, marked by the boundaries of Bo’ai Road, Changdi Road, and Haixiu East Road. “Where do they come from?” my wife rhetorically raises. Many may be tourists like us. The narrow streets are heavy with traffic. Motorized and leg-pedalled trishaws meandered around the pedestrians and through traffic gaps. Their owners are busy, stopping only when seeking fares.
Individualism is the hallmark of each old building, even though they are lined alongside one another on the same street. One building is two-storey high, another on its right is three-storey high, and the other on its left is four-storey high. Even their widths differ; so too the shapes of their windows. One has square windows; another has an arched window on each floor; and the third has three arched windows on each floor.
Some building facades look grim. Although the stone structures are solid and secure, some sections of the side walls have fallen off. Two pillars on the second floor of one house, however, have long disintegrated; yet people are still living in it. Many of the stores below the living quarters are selling similar items like clothing, shoes, socks, cell phones, watches, DVDs, and accessories. Enticed by their cheap prices, Jo picks up some nick nacks.
At Bell Tower along Changdi Road (top 2 photos); Old Haikou at Xinhua North Road (next 2 photos)
Old Haikou at Deshengsha Road (2016, last photo)
附近的钟楼，长堤路（顶部 2 张照片）; 老海口新华北路（未来 2 张照片）
老海口德胜沙路（2016，最后一张照片）
A big bookstore tells me that the map I am relying on would no longer be printed. New maps would not have bus numbers printed on the roads. That is disastrous for someone like me. Captivating though the sceneries may be, it has been a long day, and we must return to rest.
Volcanic Park and the Village God created by man
Genuine volcanic craters always fascinate me. Ever since I read a book on gemmology many years ago, I was hoping to find a raw diamond exposed in a dry crater. Diamonds are crystallized carbons, compacted in the heart of our planet. They were brought to the surface by molten lava. Over the eons, weathering had eroded the diamond-bearing kimberlite pipes, thus exhibiting the hardest mineral.
My wife and I had visited an unfilled crater on Mount Gambier in South Australia during the nineteen-eighties. It bears a crazy name: Leg of Mutton Crater. Its famous sister is Blue Lake, so named because of its deep-blue water. When we went down the stairs into the wide and deep void, I closely scrutinized its side. I left disappointed. An artificial volcano and simulated explosion was our next experience when we took a five-minute ferry to Sentosa, the tiny holiday isle, from Keppel Harbour cruise terminal in Singapore.
Perhaps a diamond is waiting there for me in Shishan and Yongxing town, where a volcano-themed park was opened in January 2006. Just twenty kilometres southwest of Haikou downtown, the Haikou-Shishan Volcanic Cluster National Geopark spreads over an area of about one hundred and eight square kilometres. Like the Zhanjiang Huguangyan National Geopark in Guangdong, it also lies within the Leiqiong Rift Volcanic Belt. Secretly, I am excited, struggling to suppress my anticipation of a rich find, overlooked by the uninformed, in a real volcanic crater. We retire for an early night.
After an early lunch at the cafe outside our hotel entrance, we hail a taxi. The Hainanese in his thirties has not visited the place. Along the way, he lights two cigarettes, which deter us from booking him for the day. I am also wary that he may be taking a longer route because we have not agreed on a pre-set fare. Although the journey seems long, about forty-five minutes, the meter reads only 54 RMB. Feeling generous, I hand him a 6-RMB tip since he has to patiently wait for exiting visitors to make his return journey financially worthwhile.
It is one in the early afternoon. At 60 RMB per adult, the admission fee is prohibitive to the locals but reasonable to us. As a person above sixty years of age, I pay 30 RMB. Without sunshine, the day is misty; it is cool, good for trampling up and down mountain slopes and into caverns. We anticipate a long walk, and are thus prepared.
At the entrance is an emblem of a single tongue of fire ( ) carved out of lychee (Litchi chinensis) wood and placed on a foundation of basalts. The emblem is stained in dark red colour. The signboard on the right in part reads:
“People who have been living in the volcanic terrain of North Hainan often engraved in the beam of house a fortunate symbol that [looks] like fire, or like a mountain, a man, or horns of a black goat. In fact it is a totem that exists in [the] heart of ‘Volcano people’.”
A signboard showing a single fire
牌显示了火
“Very well-planned” is our initial sense of the park. Its symmetry is striking. The straight paths are carefully inlaid with cobblestones and volcanic stones of various shapes and sizes to form pleasing designs. With overhanging branches, numerous ficus line one side of the paths, providing ample ultraviolet protection to visitors during hot sunny days. Interrupting the plots of short pruned shrubs are cycad palms. Pots of bougainvilleas blooming with red flowers add colour to the largely green environment. Along the paths are many unobtrusive slogans. One urges, “Cherish the geological heritages for everlasting utilities from generation to generation.” It is a very sagacious advice.
That joyful music attracts us to the restaurant about a hundred metres away. Unfortunately, when we reach its front door, the aboriginal bamboo dance is coming to an end. We miss a truly good show. The patrons are rejoicing, their enthusiastic clapping resounding for those audience participants exhausted by vigorous jumping and hopping to the throbbing drum beat. We leave them to resume their extended lunch.
Aboriginal bamboo dance
原住民竹竿舞
Scattered aesthetically around the park are basalts of grotesque contours and dimensions. Their names are suggestive: “Stone Camel”, “Golden Frog Greeting Guests”, “Dragon’s Water of the Volcano”, “Peace-keeping Stone”, and “Xuanwu Stone” (literally, “Mysterious Military Stone”).
The information given on one is: “Camel is the animal, hunger enduring and thirsty enduring, also indomitable in carrying out mission, which represents and symbolizes the spirit of residents in the volcanic terrain: tenacious, diligent, eager to develop and advance, keen on fighting in spite of all setbacks.”
Stone Camel
石骆驼
A simple shrine about a metre high was made by the ancient inhabitants from basalt bricks. In it is a small basalt rock, which they worshipped. Indeed, people are still worshipping it, as the few burnt incense sticks in the stone holder attest. The puzzling information on the “Stone God” (石公; Shigong) signboard arouses my curiosity:
“Since a remote age in the volcanic area people got used to put a stone god at entrance of village, called “Village God”. They built a mini-temple using volcanic rocks, and put a stone god inside. After a Taoist ceremony the stone god gained a soul and the Village God became the guarding god for the village in preventing from devil and instructing directions, so people have been worshipping him until now.”
Stone God
石公
Christian theology insists that God created man, who subsequently fell into idolatry, fashioning and worshipping figurines of animals and birds, even though they are lifeless and soulless. But in the ethnic Li’s ratiocination, man is capable of creating gods with life and soul. In other words, not only God can create man; man can also create living gods. The key lies in the Taoist incantations. Though that cultic process, the ancient dwellers here gestated the Stone God, who was then placed at the entrance of the village to protect residents from harm. For good measure, they produced a few living gods.
Petrified tree trunks with masses of radiating roots had been uncovered after centuries of climatic changes. Like the contemporary Japanese Kanamara-sama worshippers in Kawasaki, the early Li residents, whose natural innocence was reflected in their scanty attire, worshipped the human sexual organs because of their reproductive power. About two metres in length, one tree trunk had been shaped into a penis, which “points” to the facing hollowed-out base of a shorter trunk.
Did the natives really bow and pray to these “gods”? Nervously, we spin our heads. Seeing nobody, each of us furtively poses beside one “god”, the other hurriedly snapping a photograph or two. We also sit on an oversized “armchair”, shaped from a remnant trunk with gnarled roots.
Early Li ethnic inhabitants worshipped human sexual organs
古代黎族人崇拜人的性器官
Idly, we then ascend the gradual flight of steps up Ma’anling (马鞍岭; Saddle Ridge). As its name implies, Ma’anling appears like a saddle when viewed from a distance. On its slope is the Temple for Volcano God. According to the signboard information, the Daoguang emperor, during his fourth year of reign (September 1820-February 1850), delivered a stone tablet to the residents, proclaiming that the volcanic mountains here were “ruled by God”.
As a result, three tablets were erected in this area, authenticating the presence of “Great god”, “Village god”, and “God to pray”. From that time onwards, villagers had gathered here on Duanwu Day to pray and offer sacrifices to the mountain gods. In addition, they sang and danced and staged other acts. It was a joyous occasion for them.
Beside the temple is a little restaurant. “Delightful” is the English translation below its Mandarin name (悦目; Yuemu). At the edge of the cliff, it offers not a “delightful” but vertiginous view of the steep hill escarpment to any diner who courageously leans out. Fortunately, we have had our lunch. We continue our climb.
Unfortunately, at the viewing platforms near the Ma’anling peak, the cloudy mist prevents us from enjoying a general perspective of Haikou downtown and Qiongzhou Strait. They are too far off. We can only see the villages at the foothills.
View from Ma’anling Peak, mist
马鞍岭峰, 雾
Standing at an elevation of 222.8 metres, Fengluling (风炉岭; Wind Furnace Ridge) is the peak, the higher of the two mountains that characterize the ridge. Its crater is well camouflaged. With pointers from my wife, my eyes slowly discern its presence. I expect to confront a dark and barren cavernous hole in the ground. A couple of centuries ago, it undoubtedly was. Now, its fertile lava-rich slope has been smothered with creepers, ferns, moss, and small green plants, dashing my hope of ever finding any precious crystal. The tenacity with which some of these plants are clinging onto the precipitous interior cliff of the crater astonishes me.
The volcanic crater is well camouflaged by ferns and small plants
蕨类植物和小厂伪装火山口
Many wild “Elephant Ear” plants are thriving on the gentler side. These are members of the Araceae family. Commonly known as “taro”, their roots or corms are cooked and consumed by the natives as part of their staple diet. Over the centuries, these plants have been untouched and are hence saved from the cooking pots. Some plants are flowering, which is a rare event. The pale-yellow “petal”, which is actually a leaf, partly wraps the white flower stalk that bears the tiny white flowers.
Steps have been hewn on this gentler slope for the benefit of visitors to explore the bottom of the crater. The fallen volcanic rocks strewn here and there are identifiable. More taro plants flourish at the bottom, suggesting an ample water supply. During the rainy season, this crater would be filled with rainwater. A line from the signboard at the lowest platform indirectly validates my guess. “The Heavenly Lake was filled with hot magma.” In short, this is actually a lake during the monsoon or typhoon season. One should avoid coming down to the lowest platform during this period, or risk being drown during a sudden downpour. The sign further volunteers:
“The magma spilled out and passed through the notch in the east to form lava flows and lava plateau. The effusive process was followed by volcanic explosion; lava was thrown into the air to form volcanic scoria, driblets, volcanic bombs and other volcanic ejects.”
Taro plants and Wild Pineapples grow profusely on the slopes
芋头的植物和露兜树猴大汗成长在斜坡
Scramble out, which is what we prudently do. A large group of tourists passes us. They are going down. Are they aware that the last recorded eruption occurred in 1933, only eight decades earlier? Eruptions have also occurred during the nineteenth and twentieth century in the Chengmai and Lin’gao area. Around the globe, an average of fifty eruptions eventuated annually, some causing severe damages to lives and property. The nagging doubt resurfaces: where can I hide if these volcanoes should suddenly erupt? Most varieties of volcanoes are present in Hainan. The fifty-eight Pleistocene-Holocene theoleiitic cones are distributed over four thousand one hundred square kilometres in the northern part of the island.
“Wild pineapples” too proliferate on the hillside. But they are not true pineapples, which belong to the Bromeliad family. They are Pandanus Fascicularis (or Odoratissimus) of the Pandanaceae family. In the park area are also stone implements used by the ancient settlers. The “Millstone” consists of two circular flat basalts, one larger than the other. Placed on top, the smaller piece has a hole into which dry beans or grains are fed, and also an embedded wooden handle which the villager holds to manually rotate the stone to grind the item. The leaking flour is channelled into a receptacle for collection.
Like giant dough-kneading rollers, two heavy cylindrical basalts form the upright “Juicer”, a primitive juice-extracting machine. Did it inspire the invention of the small metallic sugar-cane juice extractors commonly found in Singapore food centres? Half a metre in height each, the two stone rollers are vertically pivoted close to each other, onto a stone platform by the wooden axles that run through the roller cores. One roller is rotated by a very long hardy wooden handle that is tied firmly to its top axle. As a long cane is being forced through the narrow space between the two rollers by the arduous turns of the heavy handle, sugar-cane juice is being squeezed out, flowing down to the platform and draining into the stone receptacle by its side. The sugary water is subsequently evaporated through boiling to produce sugar crystals. Functioning similarly, oil presses are placed strategically in the park.
Early Li ethnic people used these stone tools to extract sugar cane juice and make flour
黎族人使用这些工具, 提取甘蔗榨汁, 作面粉
Where there is volcano, there is hot spring, besides, of course, the rich soil and lush vegetation. We walk along the elevated ground around a small pond and cross its zigzag bridge to see the numerous kois swimming in its clear spring water. The red and white ones are highly visible even though they are at the far end. As I look downwards, I can barely make out the black ones cloaked just beneath the water surface. The cool weather is invigorating.
Adding to the allure of the exquisite park is a miniature waterfall near the rock that is inscribed with some cursive red Mandarin characters. The collection of rare tropic plants around the pond is interesting: Areca palms, coconut palms, sprouting ferns, and flowering shrubs. The care taken in developing this theme park reflects the wise investment of the local government. Deservedly, the park received official praise from UNESCO in 2010.
In the centre of the pond is a huge sculpture - about two metres in length - of a tortoise coiled by a snake, the two facing each other in an attacking posture. What is its symbolism? I later learn that this statue is an enlarged replica of a small antique treasure in Beijing Museum. The Xuanwu (玄武), which literally means “dark” and “martial”, is one of the four directional deities in Chinese mythology; it represents the north, which is purportedly dark and watery. The “Dark Warrior” has a long history; its profiles were inscribed on bronze mirrors, paintings, and tomb bricks dating back to the Warring Period, some two thousand five hundred years ago.
By the inception of the Song dynasty, the reptilian celestial was transformed into an anthropomorphic god. Its worship rapidly spread when emperor Zhenzong (reign: 998-1022), out of respect for an ancestor with a “Xuan” middle name, changed its rubric to Zhenwu (真武; Truly a Warrior). Impetus was provided when his son Emperor Renzong testified of a divine cure to his illness. From then on, the human god was worshipped.
In the centre of the pond is a large sculpture known as the Xuanwu
在池塘的中心有一尊大型雕塑被称为玄武
Three hours fly by so swiftly. We want to tarry a little longer; for there is more to see. But we must not tempt the volcano gods; they might just “blow” us out! A day is insufficient for a visitor to marvel at all the attractions. With more than forty volcanic craters and thirty caves and tunnels, the entertainment complex will physically exhaust even herculean athletes. We must leave before the gate shuts us in for the night. What creatures lurk within the park is something we do not wish to find out. We do not want to be stranded.
Wait for the bus opposite the entrance, the ticketing receptionist responds. There is, however, no bus stand. At four-thirty, a bus approaches and we frantically wave our hands. The driver confirms his destination, Xiuying, where Haikou Wharf is located. We are glad, although sad, to get out of that potentially explosive suburb. The fare is only 4 RMB each. Seven other passengers are in the bus. Few houses are on the sides of the four-lane country road, which finally turns right to join the Hainan Central Highway.
Bus from Volcanic Park to Xiuying District
火山公园秀英区公交车
An overhead express train line is under construction along the dusty highway. I gaze at the heavy concrete structure, an engineering feat. The bus terminates along Xiuying Expressway as soon as it passes Xiuhua Road on our right.
Haikou Port Ferry Terminal and Xiuying Beach
Since darkness would descend in about three hours, we have enough time to see the nearby Xiuying Beach, which is a kilometre or two to the north. Thanking a young gentleman for his assistance in identifying our position on the map, we jump unto the right bus. After it has turned left into Binhai Avenue, we drop off at the first stop and walk towards Shuangyong Road. This short road leads to a jetty. A gate is sited mid-way but it is unguarded, except for the security camera riveted to the wall of a building on our right. Is it video-recording us? Since no warden is present, we bravely stroll on.
At the T-shaped jetty, we have an unimpeded view of the numerous ships nesting at Haikou Port Ferry Terminal wharf. At the shallower end of the jetty are more than twenty small fishing boats lassoed together. Except for one or two, most are unoccupied. The day has ended, and the fishermen have gone home. At the deeper end, two light-blue patrol boats bearing large black identification numbers 3315 and 177 on their front sides are docked on my left while another naval ship “China Rescue” bearing the identification “Nan Hai Jiu 201” in red is docked on my right. As we are so close to Chinese naval boats, we become slightly alarmed. Would we be arrested for taking photographs of those ships? We hurry out.
Haikou Port Ferry Terminal Wharf, Chinese naval ships
海口港码头, 中国海军船
To save time, we stop the oncoming bus and alight at the next stop. At five-thirty in the evening, the condition is cold and windy on Xiuying Beach. But we gape at the sight, its sheer length. This beach is a speck along Hainan’s coastline of one thousand five hundred kilometres, and the sea in front is a raindrop in its marine area of two million square kilometres. I bend down and touch the sand. Light-brown in colour, the grains are slightly coarse, and not as fine as the white sand of Bondi Beach. The waves have not pulverized the shells of marine creatures into finer particles. When the surf rushes in, I gingerly step forward and feel its surging salty water. It is cool.
Here we are, staring at Qiongzhou Strait. At twenty-six kilometres in width, it is an awesome trench of water, even though it is eight kilometres shorter than the English Channel at its narrowest between Dover and Calais. I only recently learnt that this is the strait Mum and I had sailed through when I was four years of age, on our voyage to a new home in another island, the island of Singapore. What is gliding beneath the surface of this strait at any time is something no one knows. It may be a shark. Or it may be a barracuda. Centuries earlier, crocodiles were multiplying, feasting.
Xiuying Beach, Qiongzhou Strait (right)
秀英海滩，琼州海峡（右）
Few are courageous, or foolhardy, enough to swim across its choppy waves. Yet in 2003, ten-year old Beijing schoolgirl Wang Yiyan set the Guinness World Record as the youngest swimmer to conquer it. This remarkable feat was repeated in June 2005 by seven-year old Guo Siyu from Futian Free Trade Zone Primary School and her nine-year old cousin Hu Congtao from Shenzhen Primary School, thus setting a new record. Starting from Hai’an in the morning, the intrepid pair debut at Haikou’s Meilisha Peninsula (Haidian Islet) after eight gruelling hours in 27.1 kilometres of cold brine.
Later in the month, a cross-strait swimming contest with twenty-seven amateur participants was cancelled at the last minute after being declared illegal on safety reasons by the Xuwen County authorities. "The Qiongzhou Strait is a very busy one; without the approval of the whole swimming plan and the arrangement of the local government, the journey would be very dangerous and would disturb the set sea-routes of the vessels." The swimmers were scheduled to be accompanied by thirty hired boats. Apparently, the organizers had sought the approval of the Haikou municipal authorities but forgotten the Xuwen County. The two earlier swimmers were lucky to revel in their swimming opportunity because they had done so before the bureaucrats could act.
During my early adulthood, I occasionally swam across the man-made lagoon in Sentosa. Each time, I was filled with trepidation. Tiny fishes frequently nibbled my skin, sending me into a paroxysm of panic. Was it a sea serpent instead? The width of the lagoon was only fifty metres. With recent marketing renovation, the sands forming the narrow sides of the lagoon were removed to permit the free flow of sea water. The sand bar was renamed “Southernmost Point of Continental Asia”.
For half a kilometre, we slowly trudge on, admiring the clean and pretty reddish-brown walkway and the strip of parkland parallel to Binhai Avenue, touted as the Number One Beautiful Road in Asia. We frequently nod at each other, heaping effusive praises for the provincial government. Their great effort and expense in transforming this long, winding coast impress us. The two rows of short coconut trees tell of their recent life.
This stretch of beach is some twenty kilometres long, and the charming coconut trees confer liberty on the national planners to dub the pathway as “The Long Avenue of Palm Tree Dreamland”. Luxurious houses, hotels, and resort villas blend harmoniously with pockets of flowering plants and shrubs. Hainan is truly blessed with beaches that extend for hundreds of kilometres and are dotted with scenic promontories that have fanciful names. Apparently, a natural rock formation, a kilometre in length, resembles Mao’s features. Where is it?
Houses across Changdi Road overlooking Xiuying Beach
横跨长堤路的房子，俯瞰秀英海滩
Road construction is still in progress along a long section of the Binhai Avenue near Changyi Road at seven in the evening. I have nothing but admiration for the dedicated workers. Hainan is changing very fast. At the intersection, we join a crowd of people who have obviously just finished work for the day and are waiting for buses, even though no bus stop is in sight.
During our half-hour impatient lookout for the No. 41 bus, three No. 40 buses, which will pass our hotel, turn into Changyi Road. We are too afraid to move from our place, fearing that we may miss the elusive No. 41. In our frustration, we stop and catch a No. 28. As soon as it turns right into Qiuhai Expressway, we get off to catch the No. 34 that deposits us at our hotel. (I did not realise it then. Bus No. 28 does go to Mingzhu Plaza.)
Copyright 2015
Haikou Volcanic Park: more photos
Copyright 2015
Copyright 2015
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