Bo’ao, where world economic leaders congress

Responding to my ten-thirty morning call, Fa Geng fetches me to a nearby Aihua East Road double-storey coffee shop, where he has just finished his breakfast with his friends.  On the ground floor are nine or ten tables, some occupied by carefree diners gossiping in familiar Hainanese.  I feel at home.  I would like to linger to listen to their stories, to the reassuring tone of their voices.  But I am eager to leave for Bo’ao to feel the pulse of the financial world.  Hurriedly slurping the cup of locally brewed coffee and gushing down a plate of noodle fried with small pieces of chicken meat as my early lunch, I hop onto his bike for a bus stand not far off.  

While we are conversing, the driver of a private car approaches us, offering to take me to Bo’ao for 40 RMB ($8).  I politely decline.  I prefer the joy of a leisurely ride in the local bus to the speed of a car.  It is cheaper too; the fare is 6.5 RMB. 

Bo’ao is about twenty kilometres southeast of Qionghai town.  Not many people are heading in that direction; so I am fortunate to secure a window seat.  As the No. 2 red-and-white bus speeds on, picking and dropping straggling passengers along the journey, we pass the regular parades of coconut palms.  The traffic is not heavy, and the country scene is soothing.  Every now and then, a bus with identical colour combination flashes by in the opposite direction.

After thirty minutes, we cut through Bo’ao town.  The same trip from Meilan International Airport, eighty-two kilometres to the north, would take about an hour and a half.  With only a supermarket, a hospital, a police station, an elementary school, a middle school, two banks, some hotels and restaurants, and a few night clubs around for distraction, a visitor should have enough time for relaxation here. 

When the bus terminates at the entrance of a huge Buddhist temple complex (博鳌禅寺; Bo’ao Chan Si), only five of us are left.  After alighting, four walk off in different directions.  I check my map: Bo’ao Oriental Culture Courtyard is located at the junction of Wenshan Expressway and Bowen Road.  I note the time: 12.30 pm.  Although it is Sunday, no one is at the entrance to the temple.  An admission fee does not seem to be a requirement.  Perhaps the ticket office is about thirty metres from my position.  A temple visit is not part of my plan.  None the less, since I am here by fluke, I might as well make the best of the circumstance.  I later note that this temple was constructed only in 2005 at the cost of one hundred and thirty million RMB (about $26 million) from generous public donations.

 

 

 

 

 

Hainan Qionghai Bo’ao Oriental Culture Courtyard, Buddhist Temple
海南琼海博鳌东方文化苑, 博鳌禅寺

 

As I enter the gate, which has the large traditional characters 通慧門 (Tonghuimen; Well-versed in Wisdom Door) in black painted above, I am surprised to see a symmetrical line of four buildings, one behind the other, the last of which is an octagonal-shaped pagoda.  Like a traditional Chinese house, except for its orange walls and red doors, each building is itself a temple, built on a higher floor than the one in front so that the last overlooks them all.  A design pleasing to the eye was obviously the primary aim on the architect’s mind. 

Best viewed from the height of the pagoda, this lineal layout is a traditional Chinese architectural style, also seen in the imperial buildings of Beijing Forbidden City from the peak of nearby Jingshan (Coal Hill). 

Facing the entrance in the spacious courtyard is a stone screen about five metres long, two metres high, and one metre wide.  On it are craved in exquisite bas-relief more than thirty-six miniature personages from Buddhist history or mythology.  In separate groups, ranging from one to six, they are standing or reposing on floating clouds.  In the centre is the Buddha himself. 

Flanked by two disciples, the round-faced smiling teacher is sitting cross-legged on a large lotus leaf.  His left hand rests on his left knee while his right hand is bent but raised with his palm facing the onlooker.  His thumb and index finger touch, forming the letter “O”.  This gesture of a circle, known as the Vitarka Mudra, signifies the “dharma chakra” (literally, the Wheel of Law), the teachings of Buddha.  Is the monk wearing a distinctive Buddhist “crown” and sitting in the “lotus position” Xuanzang of Monkey Goes West fame?

 

 

 

Five-metre long, two-metre high stone screen, carved in exquisite bas-relief
海南琼海博鳌禅寺: 五米长，两米高的石雕雕刻精美的浮雕

 

Where are the monks?  Or nuns?  I remark to myself.  Neat and tidy, the area is unoccupied.  Have they gone for lunch?  Or are they meditating?  The few trees visible to me are not very tall.  The banyan is only about five metres in height; yet short aerial roots are dangling from its branches.  It is healthy, its luscious leaves showing.  Banyans have a special significance in Buddhist history.  One shaded the contemplating Buddha. 

About eight metres, the tallest tree was probably replanted here from a nursery.  It has a huge trunk but all its thick branches had been lopped off much earlier.  Slender branches with new light-green leaves have emerged, imparting a lesson, the illusion and not reality of a giant bonsai.

I swiftly stray into the three temples.  Each hosts an icon of a Buddhist deity.  The temple in the middle contains a gold-gilded standing Guanyin.  She is plump.  Her left hand holds a small vase with its mouth pointing downwards, symbolically pouring out the nectar of enlightenment.  Her right hand has a posture similar to the Buddha on the stone panel.  On her sides are two smiling disciples.

 

 

 

Bo’ao Temple octagonal pagoda
琼海博鳌禅寺八角塔

 

Capturing my interest is the tallest structure.  At the pavilion to its right is a young visiting couple, who are admiring some plants.  I enter the pagoda.  The circular hall is cluttered.  In the centre is a statue of a standing bodhisattva of almost seventeen metres in height, and there are several red pillars supporting the ceiling, or the second-storey floor.  At one “end” of the room is a smaller statue of Buddha seated behind an altar table on which are five cloisonné enamel ritual vases fired with a predominant heavy-blue colour glaze.  A few rows of padded cushions are neatly arranged for kneeing supplicants, who may insert their generous gifts into a box provided.  By the sides of the altar are two winding flights of stairs, leading up to the other levels.

I ascend one.  Except for probably a worker, who is walking briskly to one section of the pagoda on the second floor, I seem to be the only person interested in viewing this temple.  Without any particular interest, he glances cursorily at me before moving off.  It is strange to share this temple with only one other.  Nothing special is on this level. 

It is on the third storey that I gain a closer view of the different facets of the dark-brown bronze statue in the heart of this pagoda.  A thought flashes through my mind: the pagoda was built only after this huge and heavy statue of an unusual Guanyin had been installed.

So jarring is the vision of her many faces or heads that I am initially perplexed.  Is her body attached to a head with three faces?  Or is it attached to three conjoined heads?  Puzzling too is the presence of the three heads, one above the other, on the crown of her “three-faced” head.  The lowest is a similar but smaller lady’s head with three “faces” or three conjoined heads; above it is the male head of Avalokitesvara, her Indian manifestation; and the highest is apparently the head of the Buddha.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thousand-Arm Guanyin
千手观音

 

With her eyes shut in meditation and hands in a praying position, she is standing just out of reach from eager hands desiring a touch for karmic fame and fortune.  On her back is a “fan”, which - on my inspection - consists of layers of outstretched hands.  Each of the larger hands on the first layer is holding an object: a sword, an axe, a bottle, a lotus, a stalk of wheat, a medallion, and so forth. 

So, I murmur, this must be the “Guanyin with Thousand Arms”, who was given innumerable arms by Amithaba Buddha so that she could better help the poor and suffering.  Her eleven heads enable her to hear more pleas or cries for help.

From the fourth-storey circular corridor of the pagoda that stands at seventy-seven metres in height, I enjoy an unimpeded and unforgettable view of the surrounding landscape.  Much is green plain, filled with vegetable or fruit farms, and the meandering last lap of the Wanquan River.  Ten-thousand Springs River is the third longest river in Hainan.  At one hundred and sixty-three kilometres in length, it has carved its ways down from the central highland of Wuzhishan City. 

Exiled Mongol prince Tugh Temur explored this river on many occasions with a kind gentleman.  On his recall, Wang Guan and other local residents sent him off, wishing him: “Everything propitious (wanquan) for the Crown Prince.”  When he became emperor, he rewarded the kind official and renamed Duo River to Wanquan (Ten-thousand Springs).  Countless coconut trees dot the expanse.  What a serene scene, I say to myself.  I am disposed to live the remaining years of my retirement here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bo’ao Temple octagonal pagoda, panoramic view
琼海博鳌禅寺八角塔, 全景

 

A small boat is tugging upstream four flat rafts, each carrying about ten persons secured in their bright-orange inflated life-buoys.  They are on their way to the upper reaches, where their versatile rubber rafts will be released and they will paddle their way with the swift downflowing cold water to this river mouth.  Fortunately for them, no crocodiles are lurking, or they would be feast.

Filled with passengers, a pleasure boat cruises past them, heading for the ferry terminus.  In the distance, Bo’ao town is inhabited with many tall buildings.  Patches of barren earth are close by.  Perhaps some hotels or houses are being planned.  The famous Bo’ao Square is a tiny speck.

Below me is a gigantic white statue, again of Guanyin.  At about ten metres in height, this female divine has four facets, each facing the four points of a compass.  She perches on a square platform at the edge of Wanquan River.  The four pillars at the platform corners are equally tall in height.  What is their significance?  The large nine white sheets fixed to the huge circular “dish” near them are “petals” of the white lotus, a Buddhist symbol for purity of mind and spirit.

Beside the metallic icon, lush green lotuses are thriving in the two ponds with slightly greenish water.  Aesthetically aligned with the tops of the three progressively smaller temples is the majestic entrance to this temple compound.  Wow, what a splendid view!

While I am waiting for a bus along Wenshan Expressway, a cab from Dongyu Islet approaches.  Since it is two-thirty, I hail it to save time.  The driver drops me off at the ticket office at the end of Longtan Road.  The fare is 9.5 RMB.  Although not a Chinese national, I am still offered the “Senior” admission fee of 101 RMB, a discount of 27 RMB.  The price includes the buggy cart ride to the Bo’ao Economic Forum Hall precinct and the ferry ride from there to Jade Belt Beach.  Three tourists from mainland China join me in the battery-powered tourist cart, which has three rows of seats capable of transporting nine persons. 

We cross the bridge to Dongyu Islet.  In the middle of the Wanquan estuary, this islet and also others were created from the sand deposited over the millennia by the confluence of the Wanquan, Jiuqu, and Longgun.  Slowly, we roll pass the championship golf course on our left.  Owned by international luxury hotel resort Sofitel Boao, it was designed by Australian PGA professional Graham Marsh. 

The road to Dongyu Islet
通往东屿岛的路

 

Where none was available a decade earlier, more than twenty golf clubs have sprung up in Hainan.  Spurring the aspirations of young Chinese was the addition of golf to the 2016 Olympic Games.  Golf-loving executives too are organizing their year-end conferences in the sub-tropical island, the cold winters of northern China being a deterrent.  Anticipating the trend, American golf course designer Schmidt-Curley Design opened its China main office in Haikou. 

Land in Hainan is cheap, the weather is fine, and the sun shines almost throughout the year.  Of course, local lives were disrupted when farms and homes were acquired by developers for clubs.

Ornamental palms (perhaps Bottle Palms) adorn the roadside of Dongyu Islet.  When viewed from afar, they can be mistaken for coconut palms.  The reason is obvious: they all belong to the Arecaceae (palm) family.  Both have tall and slender brown trunks and radiating green fronds at the top.  Coconut palms are flourishing everywhere, alongside the decorative palms.  They are also scattered on the golf course itself.

Only low shrubs comprise the border hedges: Marsh has great confidence in the golfers.  But I would duck if any appears.  A golf ball could be flying over the hedge!  The sky is aquamarine and the land is green, except for the patches of white sands, the contrived traps or “challenges” for amateur golfers.  

Two dragons face each other, forming a square arch, the entrance to the park exhibiting stone maps of sponsor countries of the Economic Forum.  From here is a short walk to the ferry dock.  Together with twenty others, we board the ferry across the narrow channel.  The water is calm.  Few high buildings punctuate the gentle coastline.  Our boat is the only moving object.  The scene is picturesque.  Sadly, the ride lasts only ten minutes or so.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ferry to Jade Belt Beach
渡轮到玉带滩

 

That stretch of Jade Belt Beach is flat and barren; yet it is crowded.  Posing in front of Shenggong (Sacred Lord) Rock, a reef outcrop partly submerged near the shore, merry couples, groups, and individuals are photographing one another.  Professional photographers are happy, with roaring profits from those unequipped with cameras or composition skill.  As well as donning straw hats, these ladies also veil their face from exposure to the blazing sun with a small towel or piece of cloth wrapped around their nose and mouth.

Their kiosks are demountable canvas tents.  Costing 10 RMB each, a print of me with my back facing the maritime horizon is publishable; the other is of me in “soft focus”!  Perhaps I am not photogenic?  Although hot, the weather is pleasant and not humid.  The temperature is about twenty-four degrees Celsius.  Under their huge beach umbrellas, three men in their forties are fishing at the calm lagoon. 

I squat to feel the water: it is cool, clean, and clear.  The seawater here is the cleanest, being replenished daily by the boundless fresh tides of South China Sea.    The sand is fine.  It is slightly brown, unlike the white sand of Bondi Beach.  I look up.  A thought.  Then a tingling sensation ripples through my skin: a boat, sailing eastwards for only a thousand kilometres will reach Luzon, the northern island of the Philippines.  So close.  No intervening island or reef hinders its path.

Looking across the river mouth, I spy the small sleepy fishing town, recently made famous throughout the world.  I can now comprehend the logic of hosting a global forum here.  Given the opportunity, I too would like to construct a rustic hut right on this northern tip of the sandy peninsula some eight kilometres in length and less than a kilometre in width.  I walk along its thinly vegetated coast, which is bereft of hermit crabs, limpets, mudskippers, or other marine creatures.  Has the daily stampede of visitors induced them to flee south, to the safer parts of the peninsula?  Good things must end.  With sadness I join some others, leaping onto the next ferry back to the jetty.

 

Tourists admiring the Sacred Rock
众多的游客正在欣赏圣公石

 

A tiled walkway runs parallel to the raised waterfront of the landmark, the Bo’ao Economic Forum Hall.  Between the walkway and waterfront is a four-metre stretch of uneven grassland, where a clump of palms stands apart from a young mangrove tree and the short pruned frangipani has only three or four leaves.  A waist-high hedge composing of carefully-clipped hibiscus shrubs prevents visitors from trampling on the narrow nature strip, and accidentally falling into the deep sea.  I stand by the hedge, admiring a protruding bright-red hibiscus flower saved from the gardener’s shearer.  

Inclining precariously by the river edge is a stunted palm.  A brownish-grey bird perches on one of its dancing green fronds.  I whip out my instant camera and adjust the distance.  Suddenly, she glides down and lands on the grass, about two metres from the hedge.  She glares up at me.  I am totally surprised.  But I am also pleased.  Here is a bird that is fearless of me, a human being.  And she is not a Myna.  Her subsequent action also amazes me: she flies and wavers on that naked frangipani stump, barely two metres from my face.  Looking towards my right, she then flaps her wings and turn, facing towards my left.  She is “masked”: she has a black eye band.  She is showing off.  Yes, I know: you are indeed a beauty. 

“Miss Bo’ao.”  I silently christen her.  Only later do I learn from Professor Liang Wei that she is also a long-tailed shrike, the species “Lanius schach”.  Unlike the long-tailed shrike belonging to the Lanius schach erythronotus race at Wanlu Park, she is from the Lanius schach fuscatus.  This beauty is deadly too; she impales her prey on thorns and sharp metal spikes.  An insect or a lizard may be hanging on a spine of the slanted palm, and her quivering wings are warning me to buzz off.  She is not sharing her meal with anyone.

The fearless long-tailed shrike
棕背伯劳（黑色型）

 

Bo’ao Economic Forum Hall and Sofitel Hotel mount on the back of Ao.  That is the local fable.  Ao was a very mysterious but clever animal.  It had a dragon’s head, turtle’s back, and a qilin’s (kylin’s) tail.  Roaming its habitat in South China Sea, this mischievous ninja turtle often wrecked havoc among the coastal people.  After their intercessions, the Goddess of Mercy tamed it, transforming its body into Dongyu Island.  Thus, here I am, tickling its back with my leather shoes in motion. 

A stone statue of Ao the Turtle is in front of me.   At only two meters in height, the statue weighs an unbelievable eight tons.  On the sixteenth of September 2006, a ceremony was held to lodge this statue in the plaza.  If I had not heard the story, I would be puzzled by its presence.

 

 

 

Ao the mischevious turtle
鳌, 淘气龟

 

Sofitel Hotel is a beautiful concave building that seems to cradle the BFA (Bo’ao Forum for Asia) International Convention Center.  Its swimming pool faces the sea and Jade Belt Beach.  From their rooms, the global economic ministers enjoy their bird’s-eye view, relishing their idyllic moments as well.  In the morning, they take a thirty-metre walk to their seats in the great hall to pontificate on the economic issues perplexing the world.  The low but distinctive beige and brown exterior of the building does not adequately reflect the profound discourse electrifying its auditorium of elite audience.  

Still occupying the wall at the stage, the banner “Boao Forum For Asia Annual Conference 2011” reminds me of their presence; the centre has orchestrated its tenth annual dialogue the previous month (April).  I stand and feel the aura of the hall, which is school assembly-sized except for its furnishing.  The high ceilings, gilded chairs cushioned in golden velvet, and yellow glow of the lights enhance the solemn air.  I am inspired.

 

Bo’ao Forum for Asia
博鳌亚洲论坛

 

Bob Hawke, Morihiro Hosokawa, and Fidel V. Ramos, former government leaders of Australia, Japan, and the Philippines respectively, advanced the idea of an Asia-Pacific forum to facilitate discussion on socio-economic issues pressing in the Asia-Pacific region.  Formally inaugurated in February 2001, the non-profit, non-government organisation and its annual gatherings received enthusiastic support from political leaders, businessmen, and academics.

To vicariously experience the emotions of the participants, I exit and approach the great hall from another entrance, this time gingerly hopping up the stately flight of steps leading to the reception desk and the main entrance.  On either side of the stairway are four white pillars.  The first three pairs are clad with deep-blue banners tied around them.  Also in English, the words announce the April 14th to 16th annual conference.  

As I stand near the reception, I look downwards at the circular pool of shallow water.  The short jets of this fountain have not been switched on; otherwise, the shooting waters would constitute a fascinating sight.  Beyond this fountain pool is a huge hollow globe statue of the world made of steel.  It reminds me of a rattan ball.  Between them are the road and a group of forty-three Chinese tourists taking photographs while waiting for their tour bus.  Hidden behind the globe is a security officer in dark-blue trouser and light-blue shirt, its sleeves covering his arms.  Some tourists are also sitting on a bench nearby while some are dallying.

Upon my exit from Dongyu Islet, the driver of a private car approaches me, quoting 40 RMB for a drive to Bo’ao town.  When I refer to the cheap 10-RMB cab fare from the nearby temple to the ticket office, he reduces his offer by 10 RMB.  At my hesitation, he finally agrees to take me for 20 RMB.  Along the way to my intended destination in the small town, he enquires about my next destination.  After a brief haggle, he is willing to also drive me to Qionghai town for a total of 40 RMB.  

Two Caucasian ladies are leaving Mazu (Matsu) Temple, which is small and unexceptional.  They disappear around the bend when my concentration is diverted.

Mazu has thousands of devotees in hundreds of temples throughout southern China and Southeast Asian countries.  A temple dedicated to her in 1857 lies within the Singapore Hainan Association building (Qiongzhou Huiguan; Hainanese: Kheng Chiu Hwee Kuan).  A similar temple was built in Penang around 1866 by the local Hainanese.  Honoured as “Ancestral Mother” (“Mazu”), “Heavenly Consort or Princess” (“Tianfei”), and “Empress of Heaven” (“Tianhou”) was a young maiden of the Lin family from Fujian living towards the end of the tenth century, attested by fishermen and sailors as performing miracles, especially in rescuing them from maritime disasters and certain death.

 

 

 

 

 

Bo’ao Mazu Temple
博鳌妈祖寺

 

In the middle of the main hall of the Bo’ao temple is a small statue of her in a sitting position on the altar.  With a plump, pink face of a lady in her forties, which is strange since she died during her late twenties, she is draped in a light-brown upper robe and a dark-brown skirt.  Covering her shoulder is a brown shawl with red edges.  Behind her is a white altar screen on which is painted a yellow sun above the mythical Turtle Ao.  From my frontal position, the fiery orange chromosphere of the sun appears as a halo of the goddess’ head. 

Painted on the four mauve-coloured walls of the room is a beautiful flowing scene against a white background in the style of an unfolded scroll, depicting some Chinese adherents offering prayers to Buddha, holy men and numerous boats sailing under the guidance of some celestial constellations, the protective Mazu standing on a monstrous fish whose mouth opens in anguish, the seated Mazu as “Heavenly Mother” flanked by the White Tiger of the West (a constellation symbol) and the Vermillion Bird of the South (another symbol), and the legendary Ao. 

Brown Ao’s angry face stares at the heat-radiating red sun.  Below Ao is a man in light-green shirt and pants and dark-green sash, his shovel scooping up four watermelons of different colours and two huge red carps while three fishermen nearby are preparing their net.  To the left of Ao is a lady in light-purple gown holding and consoling a man who is in light-blue gown and inclining in pain.  Perhaps the painter is suggesting that life was pleasant until Ao’s mayhem.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mazu in different poses
妈祖

 

Driving northwestwards for about twenty kilometres, we reach Qionghai downtown after thirty minutes.  Fa Geng calls.  Meeting me at Wanquan Bridge, he takes me across the bridge, intending to treat me to the famous Jiaji duck. 

Unfortunately, it has been sold out.  The steamed thick but tender meat of the specially-fed thin-skinned duck must be the residents’ favourite.  While the cost of a plate of roast goose is 48 RMB, that of boiled goose is only 12 RMB.  The great discrepancy in price may be due to the skill and care in preparing the former.  The bill amounts to 80 RMB. 

Built in 1970 across the river that drains into the South China Sea at Bo’ao, the four-hundred metre Wanquan River Dam is a popular sporting zone for locals and tourists.  Eleven persons are swimming in the dam; many are fishing along the dam wall; and still many more are just watching.  Four species of carps breed in the river: Xi, Jing, Qian, and Phoenix-Tailed.  The Phoenix-Tailed Carp has red scales.  Some of the carps caught by his friends were thirty centimetres in length, Fa Geng says.  We leave.  At a nearby garden is a statue of a half-bodied lady with a rifle.  

By now it is almost dark.  At my request, Fa Geng takes me to the park beside Qionghai People’s Government Building at the intersection of Yinhai and Xinghai North Road.  I wish to see the elegant statue shown on tourist brochures of a life-size horse running on a globe that sits on a tall pedestal.  The park is crowded and lively with people of all ages.  Moving around in slippers, most men and boys are casually attired in shorts and T-shirts or singlets.  Some children are playing while some are driving their plastic battery-powered toy cars rented from an enterprising operator.  Parents are guiding their toddlers in basic walking skills.  Couples are cooing passionately on their separate benches.  Hawkers are selling drinks and cooked food.

Gracefully balanced, the slender horse is supported only by its right hind leg fixed onto the globe.  An artistic creation that is truly magnificent, I say to myself.  About seven metres distant, the horse is, however, too far for my digital camera to capture on photograph, especially at night.  This statue, I later discover, is an enlarged replica of a smaller one, the famous Leitai Bronze Galloping Horse, known in Chinese as “Horse Treading on Flying Swallow” (马踏飞燕; Ma Ta Fei Yan).  Weighing seven kilograms, this unique and widely acclaimed national treasure was unearthed in 1969 from an Eastern Han general’s tomb and kept in Gansu Provincial Museum.  Local farmers in Gansu stumbled upon the tomb under an old locust tree. 

Without travelling too far, Qionghai residents can now appreciate a piece of historical antiquity and the swallow-like speed and stamina of the Central Asian Ferghana stallion that contributed tremendously to Genghis Khan’s conquest of continental Asia.  It was in search of such energetic “blood-sweating” steeds that Han emperor Wu despatched an army to the western regions two millennia ago. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Horse Treading on Flying Swallow
马踏飞燕

Copyright 2015

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Bo'ao Forum For Asia

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  Rambling around my ancestral Hainan