Wanderings in the Orient Part 4

Having visited the various points of interest about Hongkong, which is really a part of the British Empire (ceded by the Chinese in 1841) though a vast majority of its residents are Chinese, I decided to have a look at a real Chinese city, Canton, located about ninety miles up the Canton River. As Canton happened to be in the throes of a revolution at that time, people were flocking by the thousands from there to Hongkong.

Cook's Agency was warning people to keep away, and Hongkong papers had as headlines "Serious Outlook in Canton"; but I did not expect ever to have another chance to visit this typical Chinese city, so I boarded one of the boats of the French line that left Hongkong late in the evening for the run up the river. I learned later that one of these boats had been "shot up" a few days before by the revolutionists, and that a number of the pa.s.sengers had been killed. However we were not molested, and reached Canton about eight the next morning.

After daylight we were able to get an idea of the country on either bank of the muddy river; it was low and marshy, every acre being planted in rice. Occasionally, on a slight elevation, would be seen a paG.o.da-shaped temple, standing lonely among the rice fields, where doubtless it had stood for many centuries.

At frequent intervals we pa.s.sed small native boats, some of them with sails and loaded with goods, most of them rowed by one or more oars. It was to be noticed that when there was only one oar it was being worked vigorously by a woman, while a man sat comfortably in the stern and steered. These people were evidently going from the crowded villages in which they lived to work in the rice fields.

At Canton the river, which is there only a few hundred yards wide, was jammed with craft of all kinds, including one or two small war vessels and hundreds, probably thousands, of _sampans_. The latter carry pa.s.sengers and small quant.i.ties of freight; they are roofed over more or less completely and serve as the homes of the owners' families, all the members of which take a hand in the rowing.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SAMPANS IN THE HARBOUR OF CANTON.]

The foreign (mostly English and French) quarter of Canton is known as "the Shameen" (meaning sand-bank), a small island in the river connected with the city proper by a couple of bridges. It has beautifully shaded streets and fine houses, and is utterly different from the Chinese Canton. At the Shameen's one hotel, which charges the modest rate of from four to eight dollars per day for very ordinary service, I was told that conditions were "very uncertain" and that n.o.body was allowed to enter the walled city after 9 P. M. without a pa.s.s.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A WIDE STREET IN CANTON.]

A guide having thrust his services upon me before I could get off the boat, we left the Shameen, crossed one of the bridges and plunged into the network of streets where, without a guide, a stranger would be lost in a few minutes.

In a few of the streets outside of the walled city rickishas are the usual means of travel, but inside the walls most of the streets are too narrow for rickishas to pa.s.s one another, and paving of large flagstones is too rough for wheels, so that the sedan chair is the only means of locomotion except one's own legs. My self-appointed guide said he would get chairs for seven dollars per day ($3.00 in American money) but I told him I expected to walk and that if he wanted to go with me he would have to do likewise; he immediately professed to think that walking was the only way to go, so we agreed to see the town afoot. After we had walked pretty briskly for three or four hours he inquired meekly, "Can you walk this way all day?" People in the tropics are not usually fond of walking, but Ping Nam was "game" and made no further remarks about my method of locomotion. Some of the less frequented streets where there were no sun-screens overhead were very hot, but in the busy streets the sun was almost excluded by bamboo screens and by the walls of the houses on each side, so that the heat was not nearly so oppressive as might be expected in so terribly congested a city. Many of these streets were so narrow that a tall man could touch the houses on each side with outstretched hands.

On each side were stores of all sorts with open fronts with gay signs and with gayly colored goods on display, making a picture of wonderful fascination and everchanging interest.

Although we wandered for hour after hour through a perfect wilderness of such streets we saw not a single white person; it seemed as though I were the only Caucasian among the more than a million Asiatics, though this, of course, was not actually the case.

In the busier streets the crowds filled the s.p.a.ce from wall to wall, so that when a string of coolies came along, bearing burdens in the usual manner from a stick over the shoulder and humming the cheerful though monotonous "get-out-of-the-way" tune, we had to step aside, close against or into some store to let them pa.s.s; and when an occasional chair came along it swept the entire traffic aside as a taxi might in a crowded alley of an American city.

In spite of the density of the population the people all seemed happy and contented; even the little children with faces covered with sores, as was often the case, appeared cheerful, and ran and played like other children.

In the stores the people could be watched at work of all kinds, from blacksmithy to finest filigree silver work inlaid with the tiny colored feathers of the brightly colored kingfisher; and from rough carpenter work to the finest ivory carving for which the Chinese are famous. Of course the amount they pay for some of this work of extreme skill is ridiculously small, yet their living expenses are so small that they are doubtless in better circ.u.mstances than many of the workers in our larger cities.

The silk-weavers, working at their primitive looms in crowded rooms, excite one's sympathy more than most of the other workers, though they too seemed to be quite cheerful over their monotonous tasks.

[Ill.u.s.tration: COURT OF AN ANCESTRAL TEMPLE IN CANTON.]

Through these crowded streets we wandered, the sight of a white man and a camera exciting some interest, though not a great deal. Canton is said to have been the scene of more outrages of one sort or another than any other city in the world, but in spite of the fact that a revolution was supposed to be in progress we saw no signs of disorder. There were soldiers and armed policemen everywhere, and groups of people were frequently seen reading with interest proclamations posted at various places; what the nature of the proclamations was I was, of course, not able of myself to learn, and Ping Nam did not seem to care to enlighten me, possibly thinking he might scare me out of town and thus lose his job.

Occasionally stopping to watch some skilful artisan at work or to make some small purchase, we went from place to place visiting temples and other objects of especial interest. Some of these temples are centuries old, others are comparatively new. Some are comparatively plain, others like the modern Chun-ka-chi ancestral temple, which is said to have cost $750,000 "gold," are wonderfully ornate, with highly colored carvings and cement mouldings. Others are of interest chiefly because of the hideous images they contain; one of these has hundreds of these idols and is hence known as the "Temple of the Five Hundred Genii."

[Ill.u.s.tration: ENTRANCE OF THE "TEMPLE OF THE FIVE HUNDRED GENII,"

CANTON.]

After visiting several of these temples and the picturesque flowery paG.o.da we set out for the famous water clock that is said to have been built more than thirteen hundred years ago. It is now located in a dark little room in the top of an old house and is reached by a winding flight of outside stone stairs. It consists of four large jars of water, one above the other, so that the water may run slowly, at a definite rate, from the upper to the lower jars, and gradually raise, in the lowest jar, a float with an attached vertical scale that tells the time.

In the window visible from the street below signs are placed at intervals that tell the time indicated by the clock.

From the water clock we visited the ancient "City of the Dead," a small cemetery just outside one of the old city gates. These gates, some of which are large and imposing, pierce the dilapidated wall at intervals.

The wall, about six miles in circ.u.mference, is surrounded by the remains of a moat, now chiefly useful as an addition to the picturesque landscape and as a breeding place for mosquitoes. The top of a city gate, reached by a winding stone stairway from within, is a convenient place from which to view the densely crowded roofs of the adjacent part of the city.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FLOWERY PAG.o.dA, CANTON.]

From the "City of the Dead" we made for the fairly wide street along the river front; here we took rickishas, much to the relief of my tired guide, to say nothing of my tired self, and were soon at the Canton terminus of the K. & C. R. R. The station was thronged with people waiting for the Kowloon express.

The road-bed of the K. & C. R. R. is excellent, and the cars and engine, all of English make, made a very respectable appearance.

For nearly half of the distance to Kowloon I had my section of the one first-cla.s.s car to myself, as I was the only Caucasian on the train: then an English civil engineer and his family came aboard and shared my compartment for the rest of the way. The second-and third-cla.s.s cars, of which there were half a dozen or more, were crowded with natives, with boxes and bundles of all sorts and sizes.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CITY GATE AND PARTS OF THE WALL AND MOAT, AS SEEN FROM THE "CITY OF THE DEAD," CANTON.]

After making the run of about ninety miles in something less than three hours we reached the ferry at Kowloon, and in a quarter of an hour more we were again in Hongkong, as different from Canton as though it were on the other side of the world instead of being only three hours away.

VIII. MEANDERINGS IN MODERN MANILA.

Manila, after twenty years of American control, is a fascinating mixture of past and present; of romance and commercialism; of oriental ease and occidental hustle.

Enter through one of the beautiful old city gates, say the Santa Lucia, which bears the date 1781, and one finds himself in the old or walled city, Intramuros, still very Spanish in its appearance, though the government offices and other public buildings are here located. The ma.s.sive gray stone wall, started in the early part of the seventeenth century, was originally surrounded by a moat, with drawbridges. It is said that a very efficient American official once suggested the desirability of having the wall whitewashed; fortunately his idea was not carried out.

In contrast to the comparative quiet of the narrow streets of the Intramuros the docks along the Pasig River, that flows through the heart of the town, present a scene of bustle and confusion worthy of a city of its size, some 300,000 inhabitants. Here may be seen vessels of all sorts, from all parts of the world: steams.h.i.+ps, junks, tugs, rowboats, and _cascos_, the last being the name given the native barge for carrying freight. The casco is covered by a roof of matting, made in sliding sections, with a cabin in the stern where the family of the owner lives.

While there is an excellent electric street railway system and plenty of automobiles to be had, the common method of getting about is to 'phone for, or to hail, a pa.s.sing one-horse vehicle, of which there are three distinct types charging different fares for the same service; the more expensive vehicles are, however, more comfortable and have better horses. Like the taxi-driver of New York or the rickisha-man of Singapore the driver of the _caratella_ or _caramata_ will charge all the traffic will bear, and it is well for the newcomer to inquire of an old resident what the proper fare for a given distance is before starting.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SANTA LUCIA GATE.

One of the entrances to the Walled City. Erected 1781.]

The typical vehicle for hauling freight is the low, two-wheeled cart, drawn by the slow-moving, long-horned _carabao_ or water buffalo, one of the most characteristic animals of the islands. This beast is well-named, since it delights to lie buried in a muddy pool of water, with just its head above the surface. It may be seen in the larger lakes, swimming or wading in the deeper waters at a distance from the sh.o.r.e. In the cities it is a quiet, peaceful brute that one brushes against without a thought, but in the country, where is browses in the open fields, it behooves the white man to be very circ.u.mspect as he pa.s.ses in its neighborhood, for it seems to have an aversion to the Caucasian race and will frequently charge in a very unpleasant, not to say dangerous, way. It is said that the carabao never shows this hostility toward the natives. A peculiarity of the law is such that should a man shoot a dangerous carabao to protect his own life he would have to pay for the animal he killed.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PART OF THE WALL OF THE WALLED CITY.

Seen from the outside.]

Of course for small amounts of freight, in Manila as in all places in the Orient, the ubiquitous Chinese coolie is the usual means of transportation, and with a huge load at each end of a bamboo pole across his shoulder he shambles along with a curious gait, between a walk and a run, that he seems capable of sustaining for an almost indefinite time.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PASIG RIVER, PART OF THE HARBOR OF MANILA.

Casco in right foreground, with matting roof.]

The "Chino" of course is the merchant of Manila as of all the cities of this part of the world. The main shopping street, the Escolta, is fairly lined with Chinese stores of all sorts, some of them quite extensive; and some of the narrower side streets, in the same neighborhood, have practically no other stores than those kept by the Chinese. It is wonderfully interesting to wander about these narrow, winding streets, and into the dark, sometimes ill-smelling stores, but one should early learn the gentle art of "jewing down" the prices that are first asked for goods that are offered for sale. The Oriental always asks much more than he is willing or even eager to accept. You ask the price of a garment, say, and are told "Two pesos": you shake your head and say "Too much": "Peso and half" will then be tried: you again say "Too much" and perhaps turn as though to leave the shop; "How much you give?" says the crafty merchant; "One peso," perhaps you suggest; "Take it," says the eager merchant as he hands you an article that should probably sell for half the amount paid. You leave the store feeling good over having gotten ahead of the crafty Oriental, and he probably chuckles to himself over having cheated the rich American.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CARAMATA.

The taxi of the lower cla.s.ses in Manila.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CARABAO AND CART.]

Most of the shopping is done in the morning or late in the afternoon.

For several hours, during the heat of the day, many of the stores are closed while the proprietors enjoy a midday lunch and siesta.