“Panda Day” . . . my
daughter’s first words this morning. For the 8-to-12 set, this is IT,
the moment they’ve been waiting for: “Panda-monia!” as Bobby, our guide,
puts it.
Snow comes down hard as
we start up the mountain to the Bifengxia Panda Reserve. We go at a crawl over
the winding, icy roads and get whacked on the windshield by bamboo trees,
freighted with snow. We stop mid-mountain to put chains on the wheels and then
again for a terrified driver who narrowly misses a ravine while skidding
downhill across a bend in the road.
At last, we arrive and
suit up in volunteer coveralls. Looking like a squadron of astronauts, we get
to work shoveling snow with large twig brooms, preparing the pandas’ lunch then
feeding them carrots, apples and “cookies” made of fruit and bamboo powder.
But nothing compares
with what comes next: holding the baby pandas. The best “yes” yet on this trip
is “Yes, I’ll pay $170 so you can hold a baby panda, get your picture snapped
and send it to your friends to make them jealous.” But “yes” it is and every
kid (and grown up) who goes in to hold a baby, comes out over the moon with
delight.
Returning to Ya’an, we
stop in the ancient town of ShangLi. This, folks, is the China of National
Geographic: picturesque and primitive, a place time and China's economic
miracle forgot. It’s harsh village life as it was lived centuries back and
continues to be. When Levi’s celebrated roll-up-your-sleeves workers in its
recent “Go Forth” campaign, they should have chosen ShangLi over Braddock,
Pennsylvania.
To watch them chop dried
pork on the cold street or saw lumber by hand, sweep with twig brooms or sit
outside unheated noodle shops at open fires chopping garlic for soup, is first,
a gratitude check, then, cause to deeply question what I just spent on a panda
photo. This, on the very day Party Chief Xi Jinping visits an impoverished
region of Hebei province and calls for new resolve in achieving more balanced
development. We say "Right on!".
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