A brush with the poppy

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In the countryside beyond the town of Fengjie， I stopped to buy water at a small store and sat for a while with some people enjoying the peaceful afternoon together in the shade of the little building. A boy in his late teens drew my attention and we chatted for a while about his life and hopes for the future. Before I left， I gave him the name card I use on the walk， which includes the Chinese name for the project： Graham’s Travels to the West （yanzi xiyouji）. This is a reference to one of the great classics of Chinese Literature， Travels to the West in which the monk Tang Zeng travels to India to get the Buddhist scriptures. He is accompanied on the trip by the Monkey King and a pig named Zhu Bajie who protects the monk along the way. A hour after I had left the store， the boy called my mobile and said： “I would like to come with you. I will be your Zhu Bajie. I have no work， so I am available. I admire what you are doing， and I have a problem with my leg too. Please let me come.”

I said， well， how about if we just walk together for a couple of hours tomorrow， and he said fine. But the next morning， he called me to say he had bad news. “My mother says I can’t come，” he said. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

I was still seeing slogans daubed on walls warning people not to cultivate drugs in the forest， and I talked to a man who said he took opium occasionally. “It is great for toothache and digestion problems.” I asked him about the preparation process and how it was taken. He showed me some opium poppy pods， which were dried， brown and cracked， around the size of a small egg.

“First you heat some water， then break two or three pods into the water and let it simmer for a few minutes. Then drink，” he said.

The beverage makes you feel relaxed and comfortable， he said. I asked how often he drank the special tea， and he said a couple of times a week. “I don’t want to do any more than that otherwise I might get addicted，” he said.

I came across someone else who collected the pods and used them in soups. “They make soups really smooth and tasty，” he said. “You break a couple of pods into the soup tureen and let them simmer with the rest of the ingredients. Lovely. But I wouldn’t do it too often.”

My friend close to Fengjie asked me if I would like to try some of this special tea， and I of course said yes. It looked， smelled and tasted just like any other boiled Chinese medicine – a dark brown bitter brew producing a bit of a buzz， but nothing like the feeling I understand accompanies smoking of the herb. How disappointing.

But what was clear to me was that the use of opium for low level relatively medicinal and soup enhancement purposes was still fairly widespread and a facet of the rural culture in this part of central China that had both preceded and followed the high-profile British excursion into the market in the 19th century.

The road from Fengjie to the next river town， Yunyang， followed a valley to the north of the Yangtze river that was one of the most beautiful stretches of country I had seen in central China. The scenery was enhanced by recent heavy rains that made the river race noisily down its steep gradient. Waterfalls cascaded off the cliffs at every turn. The vistas include the classic Gorges cliffs and steep terraced hillsides， and while it was on a slightly smaller scan than the classic Yangtze Gorges， it was more secluded. I would particularly recommend a walk east towards the town of Guojiagou. East because then you have the sun mostly at your back during the afternoon.

The road beyond Fengjie was wet with rain， the fields largely contained oranges and vegetables. With the roads slick with rain， I passed several accidents involving private cars with middle class car owners from the cities not used to the mountain roads.

I walked through the little town of Guojiagou， which was a pretty awful place， with a main street dominated by truck repair shops and small stores selling noodles and candy. Outside one store was a pool table and a bunch of kids pushing balls around， mostly with the wrong end of the cue. They paid RMB1 each round， and I was told there were rules， but I could not figure them out. Many of the kids had little packets in the hands from which they drip fed sugar and various processed chemicals into their systems pretty much nonstop through each day.

Walking back into the mountains away from Guojiagou， a police car pulled up beside me， and the cops inside asked me what I was doing. They wanted to see my passport， which I gave to them. I asked to see their credentials in return， but neither of them had them on hand. They said they would shadow me as I walked.

“Why？” I said. “I just want to walk along in peace， and enjoy the scenery.”

“We want to be sure you are safe，”said one.

“Is there a law and order problem around here？” I asked.

They handed the passport back to me， and I walked on to the next village where their commander was waiting for me outside the traffic police office.“Come in and have a chat，” he said.

I sighed. “It is getting late in the day， and I would like to keep walking，” I said， and I walked on. He didn’t challenge me. But after a while， I started to regret turning down his invitation， so I returned to the police station and found the front now shuttered. I asked at the shop next door， and the shopkeeper said the policemen were upstairs. I asked him to go and tell them I would like to invite them for dinner， and the head cop in his mid-30s， came out just as I was talking a photograph of a child.

“No photos！” he shouted.

“Of kids？” I asked incredulously.

“No， of me.”

I invited him and his colleagues to dinner – there was a restaurant just a few steps away. He declined. How about a cup of tea， then？ He said no.

“But a while ago， you wanted to talk me. Let’s talk，” I urged. He hesitated.“How about we go upstairs and we can chat？” He said okay reluctantly and he took me to a formal meeting room， and brought me some tea in a paper cup. I asked him about the traffic and the village. He had only one question for me.

“What do you think of China？”

“I think … it is moving in the right direction. In the late 1970s， it came close to collapse， but then came Deng and now we have all this. There are many changes yet to be made， but the direction is right.”

As he walked me out， I asked him what the biggest law and order problem was in the area. “No problems， really，” he said.

“How about gambling？”

“Chinese people don’t gamble much，” he replied.