Cave Dwelling

Although this happened months ago, it is just as relevant, if you are interested. On our way to the hanging monastery near Datong, we stopped by the side of the highway. Clearly it was an popular spot for a stop, since we were instantly plagued by women and children trying to sell us all kinds of little, no doubt mass produced, items best described as "tchotkas". We were told by our guide, that we had stopped to visit an older gentleman who lived in a cave. Intrigued, I had no idea what to expect.

We hiked across the highway and up a small and often used short trail up the hill. The small hill quickly plateaued and was covered by what was clearly the remnant of a summer garden. There were still a few plants standing, but the corn had been harvested and the gentleman was in the midst of drying his sunflower seeds. The squash were on the window sill and he was waiting for us. He generously invited us into his home, which indeed was a cave carved out of the hill. However, unlike the caves of your imaginations, it was not dark, stony or cold.



At one end, near the entrance, the window let in a gentle late morning light. Directly below it was his bed. In truth, it is a kang- one of the traditional types of beds cleverly devised for the cold winters of this area. It is a high raised clay structure, made hollow inside and connected to a stove which not only cooked his food, but kept him warm as well. There is a ridged indentation to fit at mat and then the blankets. A bit too hard for me perhaps, but then I wasn't raised with a kang.

There were old posters and calendars which served as his art work. He also had a New York Times article of himself, and numerous photos of himself and the various people who came to see him and his home. The most interesting feature of the cave was the television which came complete with a sahttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.giftellite dish. It turns out that the taxi drivers of Datong, pooled some money together to buy both the television and the dish, as well as the service for the old man. It is a bit incongruous, but I imagine that the winters are long. I did not notice a refrigerator, perhaps that will be the taxi driver's next purchase. Perhaps he does not need one of those if his food is dried or he takes his meals with the community nearby. Perhaps he even has children who provide for him.



We took some photos with him and left him a little money. I wondered, despite its cosiness, why he would choose to remain in the cave. He mentioned, quite proudly that he was the third generation in his family to occupy the cave, so perhaps it has much to do with tradition or pride.



Below the cave and across the highway, the people of the small community were working together, along with the donkeys, to separate the wheat and bag it. I have no idea if all of the wheat is earmarked for the community or for sale. Just one of the million questions I would love to ask.