Back in 2009, Michele and I flew from Guangzhou, China, to Guilin, China, and then traveled by car to Yangshou. Guangzhou and the surrounding cities, like Hong Kong, make up the largest metropolitan area in the world with about 70 million people. It is modern and cosmopolitan. The airport was surreal: huge, gorgeous, clean, busy; all under one huge, vaulted space. The flight was about an hour: takeoff, a long level-off period, long enough to pass out some sort of nut thing, and then landing. The Guilin airport was back to another, older China. Sort of like what I imagine the Bakersfield airport to be like.

Our hotel had arranged to pick us up at the airport, and we had an hour drive on the new toll road to Yangshou. The scenes – without the power poles – on the drive were classic Chinese watercolors (on steroids).

The very smoggy, extraordinary landscape felt ancient. For millions of years, it has seen change come and go, the great majority of that time before we even existed as a species. Four hundred million years ago, this area was a huge inland sea. For fifty million years or so, shelled sea creatures lived and died in this sea, sinking to the bottom, forming an almost 10,000-foot-deep hard layer of limestone. About 250 to 200 million years ago, as the whole mess was moving north across the equator, the Yangtze Plate bumped into the North China Plate, raising this area, drying out the lake, and turning the new landscape into dry land.

Later, much later, from about 40 million years ago to today, the Indian Plate, at the end of its wander from somewhere near South Africa, plowed into the Eurasian Plate, creating the Himalayas. The ripple effect from this event, almost 2,000 miles away, pushed this region up even further, to be shaped by weathering and erosion driven by heavy monsoon rains.

For most of the recorded history of China – of the world, really – this area was only known from legends and paintings. It was always too remote, across too many rivers, through too much not-friendly territory for many people to make the journey. But now Yangshou is only two hours away, by plane and toll road, from a megacity of 70 million souls. It was adjusting rapidly.

We are always the same age inside. Gertrude Stein

…but not on the outside. me

My first business partner was Sam Berland, and he had two pet peeves: people who said “Consences of opinion” because consences already includes opinion, and people who said “not to change the subject” and then changed the subject of the conversation. I used to argue with him on the use of the second peeve. And now, maybe forty years later, I think he might have been right. In my defense, when Sam and I owned bas in the 1970s, Sam liked to hold a weekly staff meeting. Like a lot of City Council meetings I’ve sat through, the staff meetings would often get bogged down by unimportant details to avoid the real problems. I would try to change the subject, not to change the subject, per se, from what seemed unimportant to me, but to what I considered actually important.

In this case, I want to change the subject away from what I think are the important issues of our time to something much less important, a trip to China 16 years ago. Issues like Ukraine is locked in a war of attrition with Russia (that Ukraine is either winning or losing, depending on where we get our information and what that particular commentator originally predicted). Issues like Trump running amok, or Trump and Epstein having sex with young children, or even whether Taylor Swift is really writing a screenplay inspired by her relationship with Travis Kelce, are all more important than an old trip to China.

Well, maybe not more important to me, but more reported on. I want to re-post on Michele and my trip to China twenty-six years ago for three reasons. When I first started this blog, I was using a platform called Typepad, which is now defunct, and I read that everything I blogged will soon be permanently deleted (shortly after I started blogging, at Michele’s prompting, I switched to WordPress as my platform, so most of this blog will stay around). When we went to China, we were twenty-six years younger, and much of that trip was to areas that would be much harder, if not impossible, for me to do today. Lastly, I process my photographs with Adobe Lightroom, which has vastly improved over the last twenty-six years, and I want to reprocess the pictures taken in China in 2009, when it was incredibly smoggy, making the photographs flat and grey.

In 2009, we flew into Hong Kong with no reservations except for a hotel reservation for the first night and tickets to fly out of Shanghai three weeks later (which, even then, was easier than it sounds because of the internet). I’m going to skip repeating Hong Kong and Shanghai because they are cities and, while very different than San Francisco or New York, or Paris, for that matter, are still very familiar with streets bordered by sidewalks and lots of buildings with stores on the ground level. The two things on our agenda were the karst formations around Guilin and the Li River and the Zhangjiajie area’s canyons, which we had read were similar to Zion National Park.

This photographic remembrance of our trip to those areas starts somewhere between Guilin and Yangshou.