Today’s slightly pre-Christmas blog comes from what would be a delightful Coconut Grove Hotel located on the Hainanese coastline just East of Wenchang. I say ‘would be’ as, at the time of writing, the immediate environs seem to be suffering from the effects of some local stubble burning and there is a somewhat pungent smell about the place. My room looks out directly onto the South China Sea, but the potentially pleasant view is diminished to some extent by the aforementioned haze to the extent that one can barely see the island 600 metres away, let alone the horizon. At the moment, I am not sure if this is a temporary phenomena or more a permanent state of affairs. Seeking further information from the reception staff yielded little or no insight, just the usual emotionless expressions and disinterested shrugs.
This is something of a shame as most everything else about this location is really very pleasant indeed. The hotel is well named ‘The Coconut Grove’ as it is located within a veritable forest of coconut trees. The whole area is a fecund mass of verdant and copious growth, so much so that the experience of walking though it is somewhat akin to enjoying the tropical plant section in Kew gardens or a few hours in the Eden Project but on a much, much larger scale. I must have walked five or six kilometres this afternoon and, apart from the odd basic dwelling, the inland side seemed to consist of an almost infinite variety of flora and fauna with quite literally more coconuts and mangoes than you could shake a stick at.
Butterflies would flutter by, some tiny little things with delicate, pale yellow wings, others were about half the size of my hand with pitch black, velvety wings adorned with large red spots like bloodshot eyes. I inadvertently walked through a couple of thick spider’s webs, a worrying experience given the size of some of the insects on this island. One’s imagination took flight at the thought of the monstrous arachnids that may have been lurking in the shadowy undergrowth nearby, just awaiting their chance to pounce on unsuspecting passers-by like myself.
At one stage I did actually partake of one of the coconuts which were being offered by a roadside peddler. She seemed to be a somewhat passionate woman, much given to haggling very aggressively with her customers. In my particular case the first price I suggested to her, six yuan (slightly less than $1), seemed to be acceptable and she immediately, and rather skillfully, sliced up the coconut. I found myself partaking of the delicious juice within barely thirty seconds of ordering it. In the meantime, the woman herself carried on arguing with the rest of her clientèle. For my part, if there is one lesson I have learnt in life that I could and would pass on to my readers it is that one should rarely argue with an angry woman, but particularly avoid said pastime if the female in question happens to be in possession of a machete and knows how to use it…
After a couple of kilometres I turned down another path that led back down towards the beach. The jungle was very thick at this point and the path only a couple of feet wide, but I was drawn on by the increasing volume of the sound of the waves of the South China Sea lapping up against the spartan seashore.
The beach itself was an odd mixture of the most pristine sand and huge amounts of carelessly discarded debris of all sorts. This particular strand would have appeared to be something of a tropical paradise if it wasn’t for the sheer amount of flotsam and jetsam either washed ashore or simply thrown away by the locals. There is a peculiarity in Chinese culture that I have noted on many an occasion whilst here: the care and respect that they treat their own environs with contrasts completely with the absolute disregard for shared surroundings. It is curious how commonly one sees this environmentally disastrous attitude expressed throughout the land. Rubbish and detritus matter not if they are deposited somewhere, anywhere, outside of one’s own house or car it would seem. I blame Confucius myself, and all that ‘filial piety’ nonsense he was so fond of espousing.
The sheer scale of the debris was interesting in and of itself. All manner of discards from used mattresses to farm implements, fishnets (of the angling variety rather than female hosiery...) to plastic containers, curious industrial metal hangers to worn out tyres, a vast cornucopia of chaotic chattel cast aside with nary a thought as to any consequences.
Dotted about the beach were also numerous holes, some a mere half or even a quarter of an inch, others as wide as four or five inches. I guessed that these might be the domains of the crab population and only paused for a seated break on the beach in a spot that was relatively free of them. Even then, after only a few seconds, I noticed that a particularly curious crustacean was espying me via his beady eyes which extended a fraction of an inch or so above his head, having popped out of his humble abode to work out just what was going on in the neighbourhood. This was one of the bigger crabs, perhaps three or four inches across, with a brownish green body adorned with red spots across the front. I say ‘front’ somewhat warily, as the crabs themselves don’t seem to understand where their front is actually located. The multiple, smaller gray crabs walked much in the fashion so popular amongst the crab population and would lurch off very quickly to the side. If they were particularly alarmed, they seemed to have the ability to stand up on just one side and run at high speeds in this upright position. A strange and slightly disconcerting sight.
Gazing out upon the beach from my somewhat nervously maintained vantage point, the panoramic view reminded me of my boyhood and watching endless films of American Marines storming up the beaches of exotic tropical islands led by the ever-present and seemingly bullet-proof John Wayne. Japanese snipers would be waiting in the tops of the coconut trees for a chance to take a pot-shot at one of our American allies but would be felled with a dull and satisfying thud by the sharp-shooting skills of one of our trans-Atlantic heroes.
After all this excitement, I was more than ready for some satisfying sustenance. Hainan Island is famous for both its fish and its chicken. The first I rarely eat but will do so when not much else is available, the second I steer clear of completely. At the roadside though, and particularly in the vicinity of the restaurants, there were many small vegetable plots where the locals were taking advantage of the puberal and prolific nature of the soil. The restaurant I settled on actually asked me to simply pick whichever vegetables, mainly greens and salad, that I fancied. This was then prepared with garlic and herbs and offered up with a bowl of rice for around 15 yuan (about $2). It literally could not have been fresher, within seconds of being picked the leaves were sizzling away in the wok.
Existence here on Hainan is very, very pleasant, particularly in such small resorts as the one I am currently staying in. Occasionally I think of life in the UK at this time of year, of the crowded shopping malls filled with heaving, frantic and frenzied masses of frenetic present purchasers desperately trying to acquire something appropriate in the way of a gift to the mind numbingly and ubiquitously tedious accompaniment of John Lennon, Wizard, Madonna, Paul McCartney, Slade, Wham etc., etc., etc., or even, God forbid, sickly sweet and soporifically sonorous Christmas carols.
Yes, life is good here in far flung Hainan away from such tedious traditions. In the last ten years, I have managed to avoid spending all but two Christmas holidays in the UK. Each of those reminded me of why I dislike the whole unpleasant ‘festive’ season in the first place.
Long may these escapes continue!
A merry Xmas to all...
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