Bamboo outlet

Bamboo is an outlet, in cool mountain breeze, a thick mist, fog we see bamboo, watching endless waves of bamboo peaks overlap, watching waves illusory and near distance, they are bleak the wind a little lodging, violently trembling body and hair, bamboo whizzing sound off, whining sound of the wind and not hit the mountain, but also who would choked it!Bamboo forest, the mountain, you can see wooden base, hidden in their emerald green, and occasionally stuck from the cornices bamboo leaves, the eternal things like human ears protruding branch flute, snoop on earth.    Car walking in the mountains, can not see the road ahead, the road suddenly turned green hills are obscured.Outlet village, around Takeyama opened up a new Bamboo.I thought, bamboo to create a tourism landscape Road, excitedly Chengzhaoyusan climb up the mountain, yellow mud and the rain dip soles, and in Qunjiao out a small yellow flower blossoming ago, I have not seen “Bamboo” my heart is very confused, but has been kept in mind.Later came to understand, Bamboo is for the villagers out of the road transport bamboo, so far, still a khaki-colored dirt road, this road in the infiltration of rainwater, the already muddy all over, we will explore these bamboo guests shoes dyed horrendous.But after the road opened up, give each down 5 dollars bamboo reduce costs.Accompanied by a teacher, write two lines of doggerel Bamboo Road ridicule: folk songs do not step on the mud, do not call down to earth.Yes, after the finish Bamboo, we fully understand the villagers take bamboo hardships and suffering.    We unplug fog, slowly toward the wooden base, these old stone house by the green pad too high, they are a block on wooden houses as the main body, spurious around, like Xing biological plants around arch move, we guess, the story of which happened, they are not hiding place of a large family, there is a long majesty, with fine legs woman is making Scattered like a ghost floating in it, whether inside possession of Sadness love story, which we do not know.    Now we are close to an old wooden house, all around the house makes us feel abnormal rich flavor of life, we are moving in this atmosphere oncoming.About to hibernate tools, is irregularly parked within a few old wooden huts built, they have been cleaned owner, watery mud track had not seen in a few sunny days of early years, they were the sun dry, just above the old hairy thorn, but also cast a tung oil, and now they lazily with the rest, deep in dreams, even the whistling of the wind in the bamboo forest so that they can not open his eyes to look at this group of foreign guests.    Within the cabin is spacious and bright, it has long been connected with the modern rules, put the windows, the outside light cast through the windows, the house Azeri’s face lit a lively atmosphere circulation in every face, and the owner guests are like the rest of my life, but he took to meet lingering affectionately loved ones.We shook off their hair dipped in the rain, excited to see some old things hanging on the wooden walls, they hung haphazardly, there is such a beauty, with a collection of bamboo strips trichosanthis hole, a vertical hanging down the machete, a stained white bits and pieces of old wooden says.They each have their own position, who is not unexpected, no one forced, dotted with anyone whom their life.    Far from the bamboo forest clearing in the fog looming surge of heavy smoke in the bamboo forest to escape from the cabin hidden in the sky more floating farther, the more the more floating light, smoke, mist, bamboo, wooden, cornices, close-range and distant mountains form a beautiful Miao style chart, we sat in the window scenery seen scenery and great tasting food picked from the landscape, smoke shoots tender and tasty, tender and fresh mushrooms, vegetables green, pleasant, these gifts of nature, hardworking Miao people would have, but we are outsiders delicious food.    Near Water Town.There was a stream, river and on our moon, stepping on the scrub time was smooth and clear stone road, procure the history of the ring, once half of the street gradually disappeared under lush hay in ten separate buildings dilapidated huts to narrow bluestone roadside, they save the world many years?An old woman wrapped in blue turban tells us, lived for generations, the coming year, a hundred of it!The paths of history, but now tens of meters, had this should lead to an infinite distance, leading to distant bamboo, leading to the distant peaks, as well, leading to a bloody battle was here before, distant relatives strike!