Journey to our Roots
- By: Natalie Uy
- Created on: 09/30/2007
- Rated By 1 Users
- Comments: none
In the summer of 2007, my grandparents took my family to their hometowns in China. I had been looking forward to visiting an exciting, tourist place like Shanghai, and the idea of visiting middle-of-nowhere towns with no English did not pique my interest. Along on the trip came two uncles and two older cousins from the Philippines whom I hardly knew.
Adding that I had a first grade level of Chinese, I did not believe the trip would be interesting at all.We arrived in Xiamen airport accompanied by sixteen large suitcases (eight were my grandparents'), and our group embarked to Fuzhou, my grandfather's hometown. Upon our arrival, a parade with firecrackers, dancers, and music greeted us. Apparently, my grandparents were famous; the mayor even personally welcomed us.
People crowded around, and my father pointed out that every person was related, however distantly, to me. At a monument with my grandparent's names I learned that my grandparents had built a temple for our ancestors and donated money to improve the town's community. In the temple my two cousins and I stood awkwardly, praying and accidentally burning ourselves with incense.
Later we traveled to my grandmother's hometown, where I met even more distant relatives. They were thin, rugged, and obviously not wealthy; still, they gave us generous gifts as custom. Knowing we would be moving around often, my uncles frowned at the fruits, massive boxes of tea, and large jade statues; nevertheless, we politely accepted them (and my male cousins groaned; they would have to carry them).Our next stop, the famous mountain Wuyishan, required a five hour train ride.
Waiting in the train station, everyone played Taboo (eggflower? memberboat?), and time quickly passed. I looked at my ticket: 5 up, and I wondered what 'up' meant. I soon discovered what it meant when entering the train; there were triple bunk beds instead of seats, and 'up' was the top bunk.
I crawled into the narrow top space and could barely sit upright. My cousin, at six feet, had the adjacent top bunk, and his knees reached the ceiling when he lay down. Going to the bathroom once, I was horrified to find literally a hole in the train floor.
We continued our Taboo game, screaming with laughter, irritating our neighbors, but we didn't care. At Wuyishan my grandfather had arranged for a tour guide, and the next morning we traveled up the mountain: two thousands steps each way. At the base my grandparents each hired two men to carry them up on a chair connected to two bamboo poles, similar to a rickshaw. Going up, they looked like royalty while the rest of us panted and trudged. The peak had a breathtaking view, and we took numerous pictures while our anxious tour guide kept hurrying us. Coming down, my exhausted calves trembled and sweat drenched me, but I felt good nevertheless.
Our tour visited other places in the area, including a tea leaf plantation, an extremely narrow cave (where my large uncle nearly got stuck), and watched a show about Wuyishan's culture (which randomly went from tea leave dances in the first half to Vegas showgirls in the second half). Flying back to Xiamen again, our final destination, we visited a large temple dedicated to the goddess Guan Im Ma, eating a tasty vegetarian lunch (and drinking less than tasty corn and cucumber juice) with my grandmother's relatives before sadly saying goodbye to China.Reflecting on this trip, I learned a lot about my family tree and realized I could have easily lived in China instead the US. I grew closer to my relatives and cousins, still keeping in contact today, as well as my own immediate family. Granted, I couldn't and didn't really speak to the locals, but I discovered a lot of culture and history. Looking back, I am thankful I traveled on this 'journey to our roots.' To my delight, this weeklong trip in China became one of the most enjoyable trips I have ever had.
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