2024 China Liase Official Website

Max Brenneman

On our second day in Qianjiang, we saw several different sides of the crawfish industry. Ranging from a small-holder family farm to the massive Qianjiang Crawfish Exchange, we began to see how this region’s modernizing economic and cultural identities are being built upon crawfish as a commodity.

By cultivating crawfish and rice at the same time, farmers are able to have multiple seasons for their crops, enabling more financial security throughout the year.

On a cooperative community farm, we learned about different ways that land rights can be allocated among individuals, communities, and institutions. Interestingly, on the co-op model farm, use rights are granted to individual farmers, management rights are granted to the co-op company, and ownership rights—of course— are granted to the government. Out of the many different farming models we researched and visited, we agreed that the co-op model seemed to work the best, in terms of productivity and well-being of the farming individuals and their community. Perhaps this is because labor is well-divided among parties. Farmers are able to worry about the tangible realities of the land they use and the crops they produce, while the company takes care of land management, regulation, and upholding of industry standards.

In visiting all of these different farms during their off season, we were able to get a glimpse into daily life for farmers when they are not directly planting, maintaining, or harvesting their crops. Though it would have been great to see these aspects of agriculture too, visiting in the off season made clear how people in these agrarian communities spend their time.

After the co-op, we went to a large crawfish processing plant. We learned about how the Hubei Province’s crawfish industry was affected by Trump’s tariff war. Ten years ago, much of the processing plant’s products were exported internationally, but now almost none of their product leaves China. If it does, it is consumed mostly by Chinese diaspora communities in Southeast Asia.

Chitin, the chemical material that composes a crawfish’s shell, has a multitude of uses for humans. This byproduct of the crawfish industry can be used in cosmetics, fertilizers, and traditional Chinese medicines. The processing plant specialized in turning crawfish shells into raw chitin for these purposes.

After visiting the processing plant, we had lunch at a local restaurant tucked in an alley behind the town’s main street.

There we were treated to some great food including fish soup, chicken legs, and Chinese Celery.

After lunch, we headed to the massive Qianjiang Crawfish Exchange, a centralized packing and distribution center for the Hubei Crawfish industry.

The absolutely massive scale of the Crawfish Exchange was shocking, and it gave us a fresh perspective on just how much the local economy had been built around the crawfish/rice cultivation model. A promotional video made it clear that Qianjiang’s long-term goal was to become the Crawfish Capital of China and beyond. Personifications of crawfish themselves in packaging, decoration, and architecture mirrored ways that the Lobster industry in Maine or the Peanut industry in Georgia are bolstered by nostalgic, often kitschy aesthetics of ritual consumption.

Finally, we visited a family farm. Though this farmer engaged in the crawfish aquaculture, he said that he had to grow fruits and vegetables year round to make ends meet. I think the visit to the family farm was surprising to many of us because it disrupted the romanticized imaginaries of the smallholder farm. Though it was a family endeavor, we saw mostly old people in the village, a representation of China’s demographic particularities with rural-urban migration.

We saw how the family farm struggled in ways that other models did not. Specifically, with the ice storm that had impacted Hubei several weeks prior, many of the farmer’s greenhouses had been irreparably damaged. He said that it would take two good seasons to make up for these losses.

Despite this hardship, our interactions with the family were positive. They kindly invited us into their wonderful home. And we chatted informally for a while about daily life in the village.

We rose at an ungodly hour to ensure that we would beat the traffic and make it to our 7:30 train from Chongqingbei to Beijingshi. While we were aboard, we received a lecture by two representatives from the ‘Research and Innovation’ sector of the China Rail Corporation, about China’s growing high-speed rail system. A few statistics of note: 70% of the world’s rail kilometrage is in China, and in 2023 the rail system there had a personage of 2.8 billion. The representatives emphasized safety, accessibility, affordability, sustainability and comfort for the rider as the primary concerns of the rail corporation.

Rail travel ultimately creates the effect of compressing the temporal and embodied experience of traveling through space, and is inherently discerning between spaces that are incorporated into a system of connection, and those that are not. More and more different spaces and places through the country are being connected by rail, starting between the most ‘metropolitan’ areas, and also connecting them with tourist cities. He explained that a city would have to have a population of over 500,000 people before it qualified for a high speed rail station.

He spoke about a brand new high speed rail line opened in Indonesia in the last several years, as an example of China exporting their infrastructure innovation with other countries. A member of the group posed a question on this point, saying that through her personal relationships she knows that local people are not happy with the rail line there. He said that since he was unfortunately not a foreign diplomat, he could not speak on that.

I scarfed down some hotel breakfast quickly before we headed to our 8:30 train from Enshi City to Chongqing. Our bus ride to the station was short and bittersweet, as we were parting ways with Michael, our steadfast local guide for the last ten days, and our preeminent bus driving, having led us down the windiest of roads safely so far. Michael gave us the farewell gift of a song—a full rendition, a cappella, of the Carpenters’ “Yesterday Once More.” It sunk in that our trip was at that point much closer to ending than beginning. 

We managed to stay together as we made it through the train station, where we were lucky enough to have first-class sleepers. They were six to a compartment, three on each side. I got a bottom bunk, away from the rest of the group, thinking I’d be joined but some other passengers. It turned out I had the compartment to myself the whole way. I spent a long time looking at the window. It was one of the clearest days we’d had so far, and incredibly bright and sunny. We passed villages nestled between mountains covered in pines. We’d spend a few minutes in the light, but then plunge back into a tunnel, which would also last minutes at a time, as we passed underneath thousands of tons of rock. 

After we arrived, we met our local guide Windy, and went by bus to our lunch spot. Delphi, a Vassar alum of class of ’23, and his friend George, arrived while we were eating. They would show us around the city for the next two days we were there. We all shed layers, as it was beautiful and 70 degrees out. Windy led us to one of the city’s most famous spots, where the mono-rail subway goes through a commercial building. We were dropped off at Liziba Station, right by the bank of the Jialing River, which intersects with the Yangtze in the city center. We walked through the crowd to wait and see the train pass through the buildings, and then reconvened to get on ourselves. We rode to the Zoo stop, where our hotel was just a short walk from, and where the bus was waiting for our luggage. 

Students and faculty were given the rest of the afternoon free! Groups splintered off to do as they wished. Many rested, a group went with George who showed them his favorite parts of the city, and some of the older ones, some went to the Zoo (pandas!) and others strolled by themselves, exploring and shopping. I went with a few others in search of a nail salon. At first we had trouble finding it, but we entered through a butcher’s storefront, which led us upstairs to a gigantic indoor shopping mall. We three finished our nail appointment just in time to get to dinner at the Wudu Hotel, kindly organized by Delphi. It was a beautiful meal! There was much toasting, and Delphi explained that that banquet hall was often used by Chinese politicians and diplomats. He said that the hotel likely runs at a loss, but will remain in business because it hosts such clientele. It felt cool, bizarre and uncomfortable all at once to eat in a place like that. 

After we finished, George and Delphi took a group of us to Enling Park, where they said we would see one of the best views anywhere of Chongqing. It was free entry, and there were quite a few people in the park, despite it being late. We spent ages up there, marveling at how expansive and beautiful the city looked at night. 

We began the day with a long bus ride to lunch, continuing an intellectually stimulating reflection session from the day before. With gorgeous views outside, the time passed quickly as we discussed the past few days and interrogated the politics of crayfish farming systems, of tourism aesthetics (the wedding ceremony we witnessed the day before was a particularly hot topic), and I was wondering about the ways in which a modernizing, postcolonial China organize and present conceptions of time, nature, and “community.”

Today, our main destination was the Stone Forest in Enshi. Immediately upon arriving, the time and life of the landscape had me in awe — in all the ridges of the stones, the way moss lined rocks as they piled upon one another, and the particularities of each of these seemingly parallel formations that reveal millenia of movement and dynamism. I kept behind the large group much of the time because when I was alone, I found that I could really listen to the stone forest and its silence was filled with the fairy-like tinkling of water drops in crevices and the slow-moving waves of wind. It was serene, and almost spiritual. Though we later discussed how the belief-infused labels, like the thousand Buddhas in the stone wall, were perhaps performative, I don’t doubt that people across ages, before it became a scenic spot and even now, have found transcendent meaning in this place. Incredibly unfortunate that I lost my notebook, but even those moments of writing and sketching and being present were powerful for me! Words cannot do it justice, (nor can the photos) but perhaps the visual documentation can help~~

Afterwards, we ate dinner! Amazing and filling, again, as usual. After dinner, a few of us (including fellow blogger Kathleen!) went on a long walk to a park that had a lake, and I really enjoyed moments like this where we could venture and experience parts of China on our own time. Part of that was spotting a street vendor, and I got super excited to try out some locusts.

That was the end to another wonderful, jam-packed day in China!

Today we went to see the Suobuya Stone Forest in Enshi. We drove for 4 hours from Yichang on one of the most expensive highways (2 yuan per km). The bus passed through tunnels and 100m high bridges. From the road we saw the surrounding mountains slant and tilt as the road continued straight and flat.

The stone forest was Ordovician limestone, and at the entrance they had uncovered marine fossils for visitors to see. We went up paths of stairs up and down around gorges and gaps between the rocks.

The rocks were covered in moss, and when I was alone all I could hear was the sound of water dripping from moss to rock down. There were lots of look out points to see the profile of the surrounding mountains. We had dinner afterwards and checked into our hotel.

Afterwards, I got snacks at a supermarket. Some of us walked over to a lake about 50 minutes away from the hotel. The water was clear and still enough to make beautiful ripples. On the walk back we saw a street vendor and tried roasted locusts.

 It was a wonderful day 🙂

 Liana Tortora

We started the day by taking the subway to Tian Tan Dong Men – an exhilarating start to the day as we all struggled to fit onto the already packed subways during rush hour. Once we all shoved our way onto the subway, we waited like sardines in a can until we arrived. 

The Temple of Heaven was our first stop of the day. The temple was constructed during the Ming Dynasty and has a significant connection to the mandate of Heaven, as it was a place for the emperors to come to every summer solstice to worship Heaven and pray for a good harvest. Fun fact: the temple of heaven is blue because blue in Chinese culture represents Heaven! We walked around the temple, enjoying its beauty, and could not stop ourselves from admiring and hugging a 600-year-old tree 🙂 

Our next destination was the Forbidden City. On the way, we drove through “Justice Street,” which houses many of Beijing’s legal courts, and Chang’an Avenue or the “avenue of eternal peace.” On the way to the Forbidden City, Professor Zhou shared with us that there is a perpetual battle over the modernization of the Forbidden City, how there is debate over how low the buildings are as well as how poor the residents are, and how over the years there has been a push to relocate this community, but of course, there has been much resistance. Therefore, in the last 20 years, instead of removing the community and current infrastructure and architecture, it was decided that it would instead be preserved but gentrified. Now, some of these buildings house elders and more impoverished residents and are also used for Airbnb or have been taken over by billionaires. We also learned that the Forbidden City, like the Temple of Heaven, is a central axis, and behind the south gate is the Jing Shan mountain, where you get a great view of the layout of Bejing as a city. 

The Forbidden City is surrounded by a manmade moat, and the leftover mud produced in its construction was used to create the Jing Shan mountain we later climbed. The moat was made to protect the estate, and is about 52 meters wide and 20 meters deep – interestingly, according to our tour guide Cathy, the moat is 52 meters wide because it was believed then that 52 meters was the best shooting distance. Along the moat were beautiful magnolia trees and weeping willows. We entered through the South gate, which is the main gate, is also known as the Meridian gate, named after the emperor’s belief that his residence is in the middle of the universe.  We spent most of our day perusing, enjoying, and learning about the beauty that is the Forbidden City, with its intricate and decorative walls and roofs and the pockets of serene landscapes of trees and rocks of all shapes and sizes. We enjoyed a bagged lunch inside the walls of the city and poked our heads into many of the gift shops that were scattered throughout. We then climbed Jing Shan Mountain, which was known to provide a great view of the city from its top. After many stairs and pictures, we took the bus to the drum tower. 

At the drum tower, we were given free time to roam the streets and lively, colorful alleyways of Beijing, which tempted us with all kinds of snacks and treats.

After many purchases, it was time for dinner. This dinner was definitely, at least personally, one of my favorite meals of the trip. Professor Zhou ordered the dishes for this dinner and showed us all what Beijing cuisine is truly about. We were accompanied by a few Vassar alumn’s who were very open and excited to speak to us about their lives and work in Beijing. 

Of course, we couldn’t possibly end our last night in Beijing before 9:00 p.m., so we students decided that there was no better way to end the night than to finally do Karaoke, something that we had wanted to do since arriving. Over a couple of beers and a huge box of snacks (thanks to Ziyao and her cousin), we laughed and sang our hearts out… it was late but fulfilling last night in China.

Qianjiang was striking—the showstopping giant Crayfish at the center of town and the towering residential buildings, hotel, and luxury spa surrounding it, and just outside of that, the dramatic shift to a rural farming landscape. Where in Wuhan I could understand the endless construction of towering residential buildings as an anticipatory measure for the exponentially growing population of big cities globally, and especially in China as rural-to-urban migration continues to be a prominent trend—in Qianjiang the construction of these buildings was not anticipatory or to fulfill a future need. It appears that Qianjiang, like many cities and places I’ve visited in the U.S, is trying to materialize a “place-identity” and profit from it. Create a central attraction and image, a food culture, construct hotels for domestic tourism, create a crayfish cooking training resource, and all these tall surrounding residential buildings—the local government seems to be trying to build a bustling city from the original small-town identity surrounding crayfish farming.

From a purely tourist and aesthetic perspective, I think this “place-making” strategy has been more successful than in cities in NYS like Poughkeepsie where certain themes like the restored waterfront are a bit of an overused concept to center an identity around. “Place-making” can have a real market advantage that can put money into the pockets of ethnic communities (not exclusively but cultural uniqueness is sometimes an advantage e.g. China Town and Flushing)—so in that light—I see it as a beneficial thing for the farming villagers because it is bringing profit to the city, and I would assume to the farmers too. However, who benefits, how many people benefit, who carries the burden, whose livelihood is sacrificed in this development of the city—is very unclear right now—just financially speaking. Some displacement often takes place to develop a city, for instance in NYC and the development of Central Park, however there is state compensation in the form of apartments and perhaps something else. How desirable or undesirable that exchange is, is lost to me, but there is compensation. I wonder if the farmers who are pushed out and receive compensation find a new livelihood elsewhere and can continue to support themselves after being uprooted.

Also, BIRD SURVEILLENCE was my favorite part of today. It is actually just a very advanced high-resolution camera system to monitor bird populations in this wetland and not deserving of the term “surveillance”. But how sheerly advanced it was, surpassing anything that I or Prof. Lampasona has seen in natural preserves, parks, and conservation institutions in the United States, I think is possibly (and partially) attributed to China’s larger technological and surveillance systems. I emphasize how much I love this bird footage camera, and how beneficial it is for ecological conservation. However, it begs the question, why don’t we have this in the U.S.? Perhaps, this technology is cheaper, more accessible, more widespread and that partly makes this bird monitoring system possible. Prof. John Elrick mentioned the CCNU Professor Zhou informed him that the building we were in was a conservancy police station, in essence, the camera system partly aids the green police to catch illegal bird poachers with a courthouse nearby. All this to say, many of the technologies that we find convenient and useful today (e.g. google maps, satellite imagery, GIS,  the internet) historically rooted in a militaristic purpose but may not be intrinsically violent or bad. Technologies are tools, sometimes they can be designed in an intrinsically political way (e.g. a ship needs a hierarchy, captain and crew to function), but sometimes they can be neutral and be used for positive and negative purposes alike. This bird monitoring system seems to me, a positive development from an otherwise negative system.

Chiara