land south of the clouds

Warning: If scenic drives, big-sky plains, rugged mountains, and air fresher than anything you’ve ever experienced aren’t your cup of tea, stop scrolling!

As far as beautiful places on earth go, I aver Yunnan sits at the top. It is my third time in southwest China, and my second time in northwest Yunnan. I was here to work a wine harvest by hand just last fall and didn't expect to be back so soon. The air is just as—if not more—intoxicating in springtime.

Full transparency: I am here per the kind invitation of GoPagoda Travel, a boutique travel company whose audience shirks mass market tourism in favour of curated journeys. Ours is a five-day trip that starts in Shangri-La and takes us to hidden villages like Bingzhongluo, Benzilan and Laomudeng before I bid a fond farewell to the group and explore Dali solo. The highlight of our itinerary deep in northwest Yunnan’s remote mountains is the opportunity to “connect with one of China’s 56 ethnic groups, the ancient Derung (aka Dulong or Drung) people, and meet some of the last remaining women with traditional facial tattoos.”

As a writer-editor based in China, I have to tread lightly when publishing stories locally, so I’m grateful to MONO Malaysia for giving this one a home.

the road less taken

Road and off-road trips are my favourite ways to travel, and GoPagoda maps them out with expertise and an eye for detail. From major highways to minor dirt tracks, our chatty driver ‘Captain Wang’ knows every route, and navigates the occasional roadblock with ease—the Tibet Autonomous Region in southwest China is heavily policed, which might put some travellers off exploring the region, though those who do are rewarded handsomely. Meanwhile, our cheerful guide Miffy peppers our journey with cultural and historical titbits, handles all logistics and hotel check-ins, and keeps spirits high with her trademark bonhomie.

After three days on the road—squinting our eyes at scintillating, snow-capped mountains, tracing the ghostly footsteps of traders on the ancient Tea Horse Trail, and quieting our minds inside Tibetan monasteries—we are, at long last, on the fringes of Laomudeng, one of the villages the Derung people call home.

On the morning of, we breakfast on buttery yak’s milk tea and fermented flatbread, check out of our charming homestay, and head out into the misty morning. The fog engulfs our 4x4.

first impressions

It is an ordinary day for the villagers—if ordinary means moving seamlessly between daily chores and the performance of culture for visitors. There are just over 7,000 Derung community members left, and fewer than 10 individuals—all elderly women—bearing the traditional facial tattoos, the practice having faded following its suppression during the Cultural Revolution.

All smiles and wrinkles, the tattooed women's beaded accessories produce a soft tst tst as they move around. In fact, the Derung people's jewellery and handwoven fabrics feel familiar, recalling the intricate crafts of Sabah and Sarawak’s indigenous communities.

With the help of the GoPagoda crew, we attempt conversation across languages, generations and worlds.

reflections

i. Beauty & bruising

I take her in, from the tip of her striped headpiece to the toes of her checkered Vans, an accidentally chic blend of old world and new, before my eyes come to rest on her inked features. Said to resemble a bird or a butterfly, the blue-black tattoos begin at the bridge of her nose and are spread across the lower half of her face. Straddling beautification and mortification, they signal a girl’s passage into womanhood and, paradoxically, and are meant to make them less attractive to invaders.

85-year-old Tai Qia Nai Nai, our main interviewee, was 15 when her own mother began tattooing her face. More than seven decades later, she remembers the excruciating, three-day-long process with painful clarity.

The 300-year-old practice of tattooing women’s faces came to a screeching halt during Chairman Mao’s Cultural Revolution, “depriving” or “sparing”—depending on how you look at it—future generations of women from being tattooed.

ii. pain & permission

My great-grandmother on my father’s side, who was from Fujian, had feet so small they supposedly resembled those of a child. The practice of foot binding began among elite women during the Song dynasty, when dainty feet were seen as markers of refinement, beauty and status. There were social stakes to not having bound feet: it could diminish a girl’s marriage prospects and cast aspersions on her upbringing and desirability.

Though I never met great-grandmother, whom my father speaks of in tones of hushed reverence, coming face-to-face with the Derung women stirred something deep within me. Facial tattoos and foot binding, though separated by geography, ethnicity and custom, speak to the ways societies shape women’s faces and figures. Both have largely faded into history, but modern society has its own contradictions: abortion is still illegal in over 20 countries, and women continue to shoulder the burden of birth control, as our bodies remain battlegrounds for beauty, control and duty.

ii. the speed of disappearance

Traditionally, the Derung people’s rhythms were dictated by the rugged terrain of the Derung Valley rather than the demands of modernity. Today, tourism has emerged as both lifeline and paradox. Visitors like ourselves arrive to witness a disappearing way of life, whereas younger generations leave in search of education and employment elsewhere

Such changes aren't unique to the Derung, Yunnan or China. Communities closer to home in Malaysia—particularly in Sabah and Sarawak—face similar pressures from the flattening force of globalisation. Entire cultures begin existing precariously between preservation and reinvention.

Meeting the Derung women reminds me of how quickly the world is changing, and how travel helps slow down time, or at least to feel it more deeply.

conclusion

A mea culpa: before meeting the Derung people, a part of me felt uneasy. Where does cultural appreciation end and objectification begin? I voiced these concerns to my friend and fellow traveller, Fabio Nodari, whose tender portraits of the women accompany this feature.

“I think the distinction comes down to agency and respect: are people freely choosing to participate and benefit from these interactions, or are they being turned into passive objects for someone else’s consumption?” was his sage reply.

“Cultures constantly evolve, traditions disappear, and younger generations move on, so is documenting those changes exploitation, or simply acknowledging reality instead of romanticising people as frozen in time? You can treat people like exotic props for social media content, or arrive with curiosity, respect, and genuine interest. I think the attitude of the guest matters most.”

Tourism to China has surged in the age of Chinamaxxing, but trips like the ones organised by GoPagoda reveal lesser-known sides of an endlessly fascinating and culturally complex country.

The fog had long lifted since we returned to the road winding back toward civilisation. Though just a four-hour flight from Dali, Shanghai feels worlds away from the misty mountain village where women still carry centuries of history on their faces.

Written by Sammi Sowerby

Images courtesy of Fabio Nodari & Sammi Sowerby

Contact the author at sammi.sowerby@gmail.com for more info about exploring remote China.