Pearls on a Mountain

Text and photos by Ino Manalo

Spending summer vacations on a tranquil farm in Negros, I whiled away many hours reading the books with which my mother had stocked our library. Having devoured much of what was appropriate for a youthful audience, I was casting around for more. Then I found my mother’s cache of tomes by the first American woman ever to win the Nobel for literature: Pearl Sydenstricker Buck. I happily lost myself in The Good Earth, The Exile, Fighting Angel, Command the Morning – the list goes on.

Looking back, I sometimes wonder: what was it that a youngster found so absorbing in Buck’s works which were quite formal and sedate? I must have been entranced by what emerged from her pages, a resplendent realm of mandarins and courtyards, of rice fields that had been tilled for unknown generations. This was the world of China which I learned to respect and love.

Not everyone could understand my fascination. Once, our grade school principal confiscated my copy of Pavilion of Women. He frowned at the cover which showed a scantily clad lady on a large carved bed. My protestations that I was reading a work by a Nobel laureate fell on deaf ears. Later on, as he returned my book, he asked how I could enjoy something so boring!

Though her appeal may not be universal, I am indebted to Pearl S. Buck for shaping my own writing. I realize now that I learned to form my sentences by echoing the structures of hers. All writers’ voices forever retain the timbre of those who were their models. Which is why, when I was invited to attend a seminar to be held on Mount Lu or Lushan in China where Pearl had summered as a child, I readily accepted. It would be a chance to reconnect with my guru.

The upland region of Lushan has historically been important for the Chinese. Nestled in its slopes are a number of ancient temples, evidence of the continuing presence of the sacred. Sometime in the nineteenth century, a British entrepreneur, Edward Little, discovered the beauty of this alpine retreat.

Little lost no time in developing the place’s potential. He built many cottages as vacation homes for the expatriate community. Mount Lu became a fashionable destination for those fleeing the heat of the plains. Among those who came was the family of Pearl Buck whose parents were Presbyterian ministers stationed in the nearby town of Zhenjiang.

Today, Lushan is a splendid sanctuary of pine trees and mist shrouded peaks. The old summer houses still stand. A number have been refurbished for holiday excursionists. The government authority that administers the mountain has been trying to work out better guidelines for revitalizing the heritage buildings. This was why our seminar had been organized.

The villas and cottages are a fascinating mixture of styles. A simplified avatar of the Arts and Crafts movement predominates. But one also sees touches of the Neo-Classical and the Neo-Gothic as well as Art Deco which probably arrived in this sylvan enclave by way of Shanghai.

More fascinating however is the elegant blending of architectural vocabularies. There are cottages that combine European lines with an eight sided pavilion reminiscent of pagodas. These pavilions are usually topped by finials that would have been at home crowning the Temple of Heaven in Beijing.

Among the loveliest of the villas was that which housed the offices of our host, Ms Heidi Zhu, of the Lushan Administrative Bureau. Entering this remarkable building, I noted how it would certainly not look out of place in an English setting. Yet as I examined its details more closely, I spied a distinctly Chinese touch: tiny forms that resembled bats, symbols of fidelity for the people of the Middle Kingdom.

There is a tendency among local businessmen who are refitting the cottages to fixate on the nationality of the former occupants. Given that those who had stayed here came from countries as diverse as the United States and Hungary, this nation-based criterion could result in a bedlam of decorating approaches. While recognizing that one should have freedom in interpreting interiors, we continuously stressed throughout the seminar that styles could transcend political boundaries.

A couple of cottages have been restored as museums. One of these honors the memory of Edward Little himself. Among the exhibits are tableaux showing how the first houses were erected. Interestingly, there is a figure of a Chinese laborer struggling with a heavy block of stone. I suppose the exhibit designers could not help slipping in an eloquent reminder: Lushan’s hybrid structures may seem quaint now, but they are actually remnants of Europe’s attempts to carve up and subjugate China.

Another worthwhile site is the Garden of the Botanical Institute. This verdant park is home to a collection of many plant species reflective of the tropical alpine ecosystem. When it became too dark to explore the grounds further, we were brought to see the Institute’s extensive collection of pressed leaves.

Admittedly, perusing dried plant parts is not everybody’s idea of an exciting afternoon. Yet I was happy to gain access to this restricted collection as there was a particular specimen that I was keen to study. For the Mount Lu region is said to be the source of one of the world’s most famous fruits: the kiwi. It was originally known as the Chinese gooseberry but is now globally associated with another country. Apparently, a certain Mary Isabel Fraser brought some seeds back after a tour of mission schools in China. Little did she know that what she had transported would flourish and end up a metaphor for New Zealand.

The head of the Institute was quite happy to accommodate my request. After a quick search, the yellowed sheets holding the fragile botanical samples were brought out. Each one was labeled with the different kiwi varieties’ scientific names: Actinidia callosa, Actinidia chinensis. I was enchanted. The delicate tendrils as well as the layers of subtle shapes resembled nothing less than that most cherished of Zen masterpieces: the ancient ink painting, Six Persimmons, once compared to “passion congealed as stupendous calm.”

I do not know if the story of Ms Fraser and her horticultural proclivities is true. Surely there will be other versions. Whatever the real legend may be, there arises this wondrous memento of the interconnectivity of our planet. Quietly, we are asked to consider how a transplant from one mountain may yet prosper in another.

Later, as I visited her summer cottage, I pondered how like the kiwi Pearl S Buck was very much a migrant too. As a young girl, she had come from West Virginia to China. Here she would be gently nurtured, growing up to become a bridge between cultures, between the peoples of America and East Asia.

The Buck residence is quite unassuming. Its thick stone walls enclose modest interiors. Displays showcase the former occupant’s famous books some of which had already been transformed into films. Near the exit is a recreation of little Pearl writing at her desk. Surveying this charming scene, I suddenly realized that, in many ways, this was one of the homes of my childhood too.

Lushan has been a haven for cultural exchanges. Some of these are readily discernable: foreign villas that have proliferated, seeds which have engendered a global industry. Yet some are more intimate, unknown but for a few. Who could have imagined that ideas formed here long ago in the mind of a little girl, would touch the heart of another child, far away, reading about new worlds, savoring the words that were, some day, to help him make sense of his own?

The writer would like to thank Rayvee Sunico, Wang Ying Chun, Li Yan Guo, Heidi Zhu, Huang Tao, Jane Lou, Beatrice Kaldun, Laurence Loh, Lin-lee Loh, Elizabeth Vines, Lynne DiStefano and Detlef Kammeier for their assistance.