Three days after we had crossed the Mekong, we had a stiffer climb down to the Salween, which is 2300 feet above sea-level. It has a shocking reputation for malaria, but at this season there was nothing to fear. However, I offered a dose of quinine to whoever wished to have it, and every one eagerly applied. The only member of the party who was unable to take quinine tried what is frequently found to be a good alternative, cinnamon. The Salween has a two-span bridge, connected in the centre by a fine block of masonry. The village close by seems to be inhabited by Shans, and the coolies took a long rest before beginning the toilsome ascent. We climbed up for about two hours, and were thankful for a night’s rest before climbing the remaining three. We had sent one of our escort ahead in good time to secure the only inn, which was of primitive construction, and of which, as not infrequently happens, the partitions were so flimsy as to allow of a fairly good view from one room into another.
The scenery next day was particularly fine, and from this point the vegetation became semi-tropical. The monkeys barked and chattered, but kept out of sight, and we spent a long day in climbing down from the eight-thousand-foot elevation to which we had climbed so laboriously on the previous evening. The following day we reached Teng Yueh in a tearing wind. In fact, we have found the wind the most fatiguing element in our travels.
Teng Yueh (or Momein, as it was formerly called) boasts an English consulate, and we were kindly entertained there by the Consul’s arrangement, although he himself was absent. His delightful Chinese major-domo received us with his best English welcome, and delighted us by at once asking “Missee want hot bath?” “Other Missee want hot bath?” and promptly went to get them ready. He proved to be the most attentive of servants, and told us we were to ask for whatever we wanted. Naturally, the first requisite seemed a washerwoman, and he promised to send “catchee female,” and the next morning he introduced an elegant native laden with jewelry. To a further request that he would procure a small piece of mutton for us to take on our journey, he said, “No can catchee mutton, but goat very good.”
The neighbourhood of Teng Yueh is picturesque, surrounded by mountains, and the town itself is more open and clean than most. The people have pleasant manners and are friendly to the foreigner. There is a new Custom House and post-office, and houses for the European staff, which are not yet all completed. These stand out conspicuously, surrounded by their walls, and we saw them many miles away as we descended from the mountains. We felt that this was our last chance of getting Chinese things, so we spent the afternoon shopping, but were not altogether successful. The jade for which the place is celebrated we found more expensive than we had expected, and there did not seem much choice. The threatening look of the sky made us procure waterproof hat-covers at one penny apiece, and they proved quite efficacious in dispersing the clouds. There were pine-apples, bananas, tomatoes, and various vegetables in the market; and we also succeeded in buying postage-stamps, of which we had found the post-office of Tali Fu practically empty. We had some difficulty, in fact, in getting them at most of the post-offices in the province of Yünnan.
SHAN WOMAN
And now we started on our last Chinese journey, after one day’s rest, feeling each day more regretful at the thought that it would so soon be ended. The days grew hotter and the wind stronger, and the road not nearly so beautiful, and the inns decidedly worse, yet still we looked back with wistful eyes to the “Flowery Land” (so justly named) we had passed through. The country seemed mainly inhabited by Shans, a fine, well-built race, very clean-looking, and the women picturesquely dressed. Most of them were entirely dressed in black, with large silver ornaments, and they looked very attractive with jaunty bunches of jasmine stuck in their tall black turbans. Their villages looked quite different from the Chinese villages. The inns look miserable, but are less abject than they appear; and when, to my surprise, in the dim light I saw through the airy bamboo screen (which formed the wall) a portly pig arise from my side, I thought how often one had passed much less comfortable nights in pleasanter surroundings! I think the pig must have taken up her residence there when I was asleep.
From Teng Yueh to Bhamo the route lies all the way along the river-side of the Taping, and the first part of it is most tiresome, as it is constantly in the shingly bed of the river itself, where the heat of the sun is reflected from the stones. Our coolies’ clothing grew daily less, and even the chilly creature who wore an eighteenpenny skin coat discarded it. In fact, the coolies began to look like the conventional pictures of John the Baptist with one bare arm exposed to view. One of our attentive boys always presented us with our hats when he thought it time to put them on in the morning on account of the heat. We tied them very securely to our chairs ever since one of the coolies thought fit to carry my friend’s hat on his own head.
There was an amusing theatrical performance of an elementary kind held close to our inn in a small village. It was a sort of votive offering as a thanksgiving for the recovery of a sick person. The stage was in the middle of the road. It consisted in a table and a small bench in front of it, on which stood the principal figure, representing the Emperor. He recited a good deal under the large flowing beard which covered his mouth, and which he occasionally pretended to pull. As it was attached with string round his ear, a slight tweak would have detached it. Before him stood three gaudily dressed figures, who made a few dance steps at intervals, and turned round; they also recited now and then. Their main occupation, however, seemed to be fanning themselves and expectorating. When they got tired they withdrew behind the table for tea, and the Emperor twitched off his beard and imperial clothes in the twinkling of an eye, with an air of infinite relief. The clothes were thrown into a large basket which seemed to contain all the stage properties. The spectators were really the most interesting part of the show, as several of the women had evidently got on their best clothes, and fine silver ornaments all over their high turbans, and massive necklaces and bangles. We were beginning at last to get away from the prevalent plague of goitre, and it was a relief to see clean, healthy people again.