It was another corn planting day yesterday, this time at a terraced field by the river. The mountains here are always shrouded in mist, one could never tell if that was fog or smoke from all the houses high up there. The crew with three little kids pasted themselves into that background. The little girl dressed in red stood out particularly. She played by herself for a long time, then the heat of the day got to her and she wept profoundly for attention until Ah-Che came for the rescue.
I left them earlier about mid-day and walked the long winding path back to the village. The path zigzagged deep into the canyons. What amazes me was every inch of usable land was used fully. Where a small stream cuts a near vertical slope, people still manage to layer the slope and planted a couple of corn here, a few sprigs of rice there. I learnt from the priest that most villages’ name in the area end in ‘Di’, meaning flat, though from outsiders’ point of view, there is nothing flat about these villages hugging the mountain side.
David was busy sewing Lisu traditional dresses along with his wife. His handicap barely stops him from doing anything. They had a deadline to catch up so we planned to do the photo thing another time.
Back to town, I stopped by the market and bought a one-yuan worth of green olive. I only had them once before so this time I’m prepared. They are the strangest fruit I’ve ever eaten, first it was bitter and sour and sticking to your month, then endurance and patience were rewarded with mouth-watering sweetness unlike anything else. If all the efforts could be like eating green olive.