I just got back from an awesome two days in Datong, Shanxi Province. Caroline, Jake, my host sister Jia Min, and myself wanted to see the famed grottoes of Yungang. After a 6-hour train ride, we arrived in lovely Datong, aka the Coal Capital of China. We checked into a pricey yet very nice hotel next to the train station. Since IES each gave us 1000 RMB to do whatever we wanted this weekend, we thought we'd treat ourselves.
We got up at 6 am the next morning to catch a bus to the grottoes. Despite our early start, however, there were already dozens of tour buses in the parking lot when we arrived at Yungang. After we bought our tickets, we joined the pushing, jostling masses into the first cave. We were greeted by a huge statue of the Buddha that reared high above our heads. Thousands of smaller Buddhas and other holy deities were carved into the walls and ceiling of the cave, painted in different shades of red, blue, yellow, green, and many other colors. Despite over a thousand years of exposure to the elements and the touch of hundreds of human hands, their faded colors were still incredible to behold.
The sacrosanct atmosphere of the cave, however, was jarringly offset by the constant bursts of camera flashes. Not wanting to contribute to the light pollution, I turned my flash off, but the security guard, who had been idling at the cave entrance for a while, suddenly decided to enforce the "No Photo" policy when saw us pull out our cameras. Despite the fact that everyone else around us was unabashedly shooting away with their flashes, the guard came up to us and told us that we weren't allowed to take pictures. Knowing that he was singling us out because we were the only foreigners in the place, we pointedly ignored him. When he told us a second time, Jake calmly asked him (in Chinese) why he wasn't telling other people they couldn't take pictures. The guard looked at him, stunned, then walked away.
We passed through cave after cave, each one different in its own wonderful way. Buddhas ranging from less than 6 inches to more than 3 storeys were arranged in dazzling patterns. While the big, impressive statues were well-protected, many of the smaller statues bore the marks of vandalism and neglect - I saw graffitti carved into murals, and hundreds of Buddhas were missing their heads -they're now most likely adorning someone's desk as a paperweight or hanging in some collector's home. There were no fences or barriers to protect those statues. I guess they decided they were in such sad condition that they weren't worth preserving. I bristled when I saw people touching the statues, and just about snapped when I saw a kid throw a rock into a cave, not knowing what could be in there. I got so angry, I had to leave the cave to calm down.
Despite my anger at some people's blatant disregard for the fragileness of the place, there was a moment a while later that quelled my frustration. I, along with about 50 other people, were standing before the second tallest Buddha in the grotto. Staring up at the huge, benevolent-looking face, the place suddenly got quiet. The only sound was a tour guide describing the features of the cave, but even her voice was quiet in the vastness of the cave. I looked around at the people around me. Everyone was staring up at the Buddha. Their cameras were forgotten for the moment as they contemplated the massive figure before them, the result of deep faith and tremendous hard work. Even after over 1500 years, this place still evokes a sense of awe and reverence from its visitors.
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