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Photos and Text by Ino Manalo

Watching the movie p
 


 
 I was entranced by a scene where a number of
combatants leap across a pond, their feet barely grazing the surface. I vividly recall that the pond was
surrounded by ancient houses whose dignified facades were reflected in the water. Later, when I saw an
exhibition about the domestic architecture of Anhui and learned that the unforgettable movie sequence
was shot in a small community in this province, my resolve to visit the place grew.

The opportunity finally came during a trip to Huangzhou with Liwayway/Oishi Corporation. Our hosts
very graciously agreed to arrange a side expedition to the ancient hamlets of nearby Anhui. Finally I was
going to see my pond. As it turned out , there was much more to discover than just this body of water.

Two of the Anhui villages, Xidi and Hongcun have preserved their traditional structures so beautifully
that they were placed on the UNESCO World Heritage List in 2000. Now, being on the list actually has its
pluses and minuses. On one hand, it brings glamour and recognition. On the other hand, the many
visitors that show up may tax the carrying capacity of a site. Sometimes, there are even protests that
tourists are displacing local residents.

I wondered what the situation was like in Xidi and Hongcun. Did the houses still retain their original
stewards?
Walking around the time-polished lanes, I couldn͛t help thinking: what was it like to live here in the 19th
and early 20th centuries when these two villages were among the most prosperous in the land? What
was it like to go in and out of these homes, visit one͛s neighbors, buy a bucket from an itinerant
salesman?

Though I was now a tourist examining what was essentially a heritage showcase, there was still so much
to discover and discern. Round a corner and one spies a broom propped against a wall, push open a gate
and there is a courtyard with a canopy formed by delicate vines from which fruit are impossibly
suspended. Glancing through a doorway, I saw a violin lesson in progress. What amazed me was that the
mother was actually holding up the music piece for her young protégé. I felt like I was sharing in a
cherished album, or witnessing the unscrolling of a fragile painting.
Little by little, fleeting moments of insight were thrown in my path, perhaps in jest, perhaps as an
earnest invitation to explore further.

I began to understand that the way traditional dwellings were designed and even the manner that they
were distributed on the terrain could be read as virtual guides or maps. These helped instruct residents
on the gentle art of living. As one writer has pointed out: the Chinese residence ͞is structured to shape
family organization and to weave the web of social and ethical norms that linked the household to the
world beyond. ͞

Likewise, these jumbles of alleys and walkways that I was negotiating followed patterns that were
honored and repeated all across the realm. Hongcun and Xidi were both sited so that they were
embraced by water and buttressed by solid mountains. This is a feng shui specification that one will see
even at the Forbidden City in Beijing, countless leagues to the north. As above, so below ʹ such it has
been and always will be for the Celestial Empire.

The lay-out of Hongcun itself is said to resemble a cow. Forming the head is the hill at one end with its
two tall trees representing horns. The four bridges are the legs while the canals that circulate
throughout the town are likened to intestines and veins. At the very center is the Moon Pond of
p
 
fame. This is considered the cow͛s stomach.
The bovine metaphor, amusing as it may seem at first, can impart many lessons to the inhabitants. First
there is the recognition of humans͛ relation to the land. It is our environment ʹ lakes, rivers, mountains,
forests - which gives us our context. Feng shui may seem like superstition to some but at its heart is the
realization that we must all engage with the harmony of nature.

Then there is the primacy given to our fellow creatures. Farm animals, especially, are accorded their due
respect since without them our own lives would be much reduced. Perceiving that one͛s hometown is
shaped like a cow (as opposed to an airplane in Brasilia) is a reminder that we must recognize the roles
of other species in our biosphere.

That canals are thought of as intestines and veins stresses the importance of water. We cannot live
without water in the same way that we will expire without blood or digested food coursing through our
bodies. The capillary comparison is, simultaneously, an admonition not to forget that we are all inter-
related. A blockage or a breakdown in one part of the network could wreak havoc in another area. One
cannot throw garbage into the canal system as this would affect one͛s neighbors who may decide to be
as cavalier with you.

Every building in these villages arises from and is enveloped by a fabric of symbols. Doors are flanked by
a pair of ornaments in the shape of drums and other objects to announce the main occupation of the
family. The number of steps corresponds to established codes of meaning. Vestibules in Southern Anhui
always contain a table on which is set a clock and a vase as these are considered auspicious. There are,
as well, lattice screens carved with a design of randomly arranged triangles, a motif known as ͞cracked
ice͟. These are meant to help one contemplate the difficulties and complexities of life. A variation has
flowers interspersed with the triangles. Perhaps these suggest a reprieve from all that hardship.

A townscape is effectively a three-dimensional record, a palimpsest of a people͛s history. Mud stains

may reveal how high the waters had raged in a great flood. Blackened areas grimly commemorate a fire
or even war. A battered fence may bring back one͛s childhood. Then it was still possible to be
entertained by finding pictures amidst clouds or in the spots on walls.

Outside the village of Xidi there is a winding path that passes under several exquisite stone arches.
These are memorials to the achievements of certain residents. Usually their accomplishments have to
do with hurdling the Imperial Examinations paving the way to an illustrious career in the Civil Service.
Sometimes, the arches are erected for filial sons and even for devoted widows. In this way, individual
diaries and family records merge with the archives of a community inscribed on rock so that all may see
and in seeing, remember.

Both Xidi and Hongcun had been prosperous villages. Their inhabitants were acclaimed as great
merchants with connections that stretched far across the country. With the reduction of rural
populations in the 20th century, the vitality of these traditional communities began to wane. Fortunately
the rediscovery of these heritage enclaves has brought new life as engendered by income from the
tourist trade. Many who come have apparently seen the same gracefully choreographed cinematic fight
scene as I did. This is evidenced by the great increase in arrivals after the release of Ang Li͛s film.

In a way, a formula is taking shape. Centuries ago, once wealthy towns were able to afford elaborate
buildings. As the years roll by, a reversal in fortunes ironically ensures that there is no money to tear
down these singular structures to set up others according to the tastes of the minute. Matchless edifices
are then preserved for the time that they are stumbled upon by the historically inclined. Once these
pockets of the past become well-known, hordes of travelers begin to descend. Everyone is hoping for an
encounter with origins as couched in the comforts of the internet, fastfood and a spa or two. One notes
this tale repeated all over: Anhui, Hoi An, Pingyao, Lijiang, and even our very own Vigan.
The danger is that heritage towns become parodies of themselves all in the name of tourism. As the
sociologist John Urry has warned in his tome, 

 
, travelers have a way of rendering all that
they see as consumer products. Crafts become souvenirs, residents become quaint natives, sacred
rituals become spectacles. One way to counter this homogenizing vision is to celebrate the uniqueness
of every place as developed by the aspirations of the people who live there.

Certainly, many have complained about the commercialization of Hongcun and Xidi. At the other side of
these complaints, however, is the question: if it were not for the travel industry, how else would the
villagers survive?

I suppose that the challenge is finding a balance between creating livelihood opportunities and
maintaining the integrity of traditional environments. It has to do with understanding that the real
attraction of a place is the vibrancy of its own community life. It has to do with realizing that what
makes our dwelling places flourish is the rootedness in the fertile soil of meanings, symbols, and ways of
knowing. These have always provided sustenance and consolation in a shifting and shifty world.

Perceiving the nuances in the vast wealth of messages provided by the fascinating albums, guiding
maps, patchwork cloaks, and palimpsests that are the villages of Anhui may just be the beginning. But it
is a good place to start.
 
 

 

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