Our Fourth Drum Shop

Pulling into Huaihua, trying to shake a mood.  We’d forgotten something in the cab on the near miss ride to the train station in Beijing.  I’d had a rotten call with a client last night.  I was about to begin four days on the rode with my dearest friend and his girlfriend, who's lovely.  They’d traveled ten thousand miles to be here and all I could think of was work. 

I figured I’d try to get an Di Di here in rural Hunan.  The app told me there was no one to be found.  I passed one and then another driver, prosthelytizing.  No thanks. No thanks.  No . . . OK.  How much?  I bargained a bit and we were on our way.  This is very different terrain here in Western Hunan than the rolling farmlands I'd visited in Hunan just a week or so back.  We cut through one and then another mountain.  I did my best to finish as many phone calls as I could before arriving at Fenghuang. 

We were dropped off at a bridge, up above the city, above the river and our hotel proprietor came out to meet us.  Up a winding path, to what I assumed as a bluff over the old city, we soon were settled in our rooms.  I had a very civilized porch and a commanding view of the remarkable river town and called down for the owner to bring me up a few beers.  Another call, this time a conference call between Moscow and Sidney from Fenghuang to try allow for one of my staff to work on a new project for a client I enjoy speaking to. 

We headed out in a light drizzle and tried to get our bearings.  There were lovely old roofs and winding narrow streets and twisting pathways across the river on streets with many, many, many Chinese tourists. I didn’t see another “foreigner” the entire time.  We settled upon a simple Hunan restaurant, outdoors, not far from an outdoor, dance-class din.

Later we walked and walked and realized that the main “city”, the fabled buildings we’d seen in all the photos was further up river.  At night, lit up it was rather evocative, walking through one medieval alley way, under a walkway up to a bend in the river.  But as we’d been warned, Fenghuang is rather mobbed with Chinese tourists, marching behind the tour guide flags, seeing all that they are required to see. 

I was getting tired, by the time we passed our fourth drum shop.  A terribly bored young lady sat in the doorway banging away aimlessly.  It all had the feeling of an expansion plan that someone drew up in a board room, many miles from here.   And now we walk swiftly as its started to rain. 

Friday 05/11/18