A Wayfarer in China: Impressions of a trip across West China and Mongolia

The Story

Elizabeth Kimball Kendall’s travel narrative unfolds across the vast and varied terrains of West China and Mongolia during the year 1911, just before the upheaval of the Chinese revolution. The journey begins in Yunnan, a province marked by its mountainous landscapes, ethnic diversity, and the early signs of modernization through railway projects and reform movements. Kendall travels with a mix of local officials, railway workers, and soldiers, encountering the daily realities of life in a region where tradition and change coexist uneasily.

Her route takes her through small towns and villages, where she observes the local customs, the architecture of sun-dried brick houses with tiled roofs, and the intricate irrigation systems that sustain agriculture in the steep valleys. The journey is often slowed by rain and difficult terrain, but the natural beauty of the region—lush gorges, flowering azaleas, and towering snow-capped mountains—provides a constant backdrop. She describes the contrast between the bustling river towns and the quiet, almost forbidding Tibetan villages perched on rocky slopes.

Kendall’s travel is accompanied by Chinese soldiers assigned as escorts, a reflection of the political tensions and the government's desire to protect foreigners while maintaining control. These soldiers, whether old-style or modern khaki-clad troops, reveal the complexities of authority and hospitality in the region. The author’s interactions with them highlight the delicate balance between respect and assertion of power.

The narrative moves on to the sacred mountain of Omei Shan, a Buddhist pilgrimage site. Here, Kendall reflects on the spiritual atmosphere, the simple lives of the monks, and the contrast between the outward religious pageantry and the inner peace sought by pilgrims. The mountain’s mist-shrouded peaks and the silence of the night evoke a sense of timelessness and contemplation.

From Omei Shan, the journey continues down the Min River and the Yangtse, where Kendall witnesses the interplay of nature and human industry. She notes the impending arrival of railways that promise to transform the region’s economy and social fabric, foreseeing a future where the remote province of Szechuan will be more accessible and developed.

Crossing into Mongolia, the landscape changes dramatically to the vast steppes and deserts. Here, Kendall adapts to a nomadic lifestyle, traveling by horseback and living in yurts. She describes the Mongolian people with a keen eye for their customs, social structures, and the role of Lamaism in their society. The lamas, some married and integrated into village life, represent a complex religious institution that both supports and restrains the Mongol population.

Throughout the Mongolian leg of the journey, Kendall encounters the challenges of travel in a harsh environment—scorching winds, scarce water, and the need for careful planning of supplies and money. She also notes the changing political landscape as Russian influence grows near the border, and the difficulties posed by customs and regulations.

The journey concludes at the Russian frontier, where the author crosses into a different world, leaving behind the rugged and traditional lands of Mongolia. The narrative closes with reflections on the endurance of the people she has met, the transformations underway, and the bittersweet sense of having witnessed a world on the cusp of irrevocable change.

The People

• Elizabeth Kimball Kendall (the author and traveler): A curious and observant woman driven by a deep fascination with the Orient and a desire to capture its realities. She navigates cultural and physical challenges with resilience and an open mind, seeking to understand rather than judge. Her journey changes her perspective on the complexities of East Asian societies and the impact of modernization.

• Chinese soldiers escorting Kendall: Representing both protection and authority, these men vary from old-fashioned to modern troops. They are courteous and helpful but also prone to asserting power over locals. Their presence underscores the political tensions and the cautious hospitality extended to foreigners.

• The Annamese woman and planter on the railway: A poignant example of colonial and racial dynamics, the woman’s role as a “cook” and her child’s uncertain status highlight the social costs of European isolation in foreign lands and the ambiguous fates of mixed-race children.

• The old lama at Tachienlu: A figure embodying the spiritual and social contradictions of Lamaism. Courteous and somewhat enigmatic, he offers insight into the religious life of Tibetan Buddhism, revealing both its cultural richness and its oppressive aspects.

• Mongolian lamas: Unlike Western perceptions of celibate monks, many Mongolian lamas marry and live integrated lives. Their status offers social and economic advantages, but their role also reflects the weakening of Mongol martial spirit and the complex relationship between religion and governance.

• Local villagers and coolies: The everyday people who sustain the journey’s progress, from the farmers tending steep terraced fields to the coolies gambling their wages. Their lives are marked by hard work, simple pleasures, and the slow encroachment of modern influences.

In Its Own Voice

Kendall’s prose captures both the physical environment and the human spirit with clarity and warmth:

“The temples and yamen buildings were exceptionally fine, while the houses, of sun-dried brick of the colour of the red soil of Yunnan, had a comfortable look, their tip-tilted tiled roofs showing picturesquely among the trees.”

This observation paints a vivid picture of the architectural harmony between human habitation and nature.

“Here on the high mountain-top among these simple minds, the cares and bothers of the life of the plain seemed to fall off.”

Reflecting on the spiritual atmosphere at Omei Shan, Kendall conveys the sense of peace and detachment found in the sacred landscape.

“The Chinese have learned through an experience not wholly to our credit that injury or even annoyance to the European may bring a punishment quite out of proportion to the harm done.”

This line reveals the tense and unequal power dynamics between Chinese authorities and foreign travelers.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is an exploration of transition—geographical, cultural, and political—in a region poised between ancient traditions and the forces of modernity. Kendall’s journey is not merely a travelogue but a meditation on the resilience of human communities facing change.

The narrative probes the tensions between isolation and connection: the remote mountain villages and the bustling river ports, the nomadic Mongols and the encroaching Russian influence, the spiritual lamassery and the secularizing world beyond. It questions how identity is maintained or transformed when old ways confront new technologies, political upheavals, and foreign powers.

The book also examines the role of outsiders—missionaries, officials, travelers—and their complex relationships with local populations. Kendall’s observations on race, colonialism, and cultural exchange are nuanced, acknowledging both the hardships imposed by foreign presence and the genuine human interactions that transcend politics.

Religion emerges as a double-edged theme: a source of solace and community, yet also a mechanism of control and stagnation, particularly in the Tibetan and Mongolian contexts. The contrast between the gentle Buddhism of China and the more rigid Lamaism of the plateau underscores the diversity within Asian spiritual traditions.

Finally, the book reflects on the nature of travel itself—not as mere sightseeing but as a profound engagement with place and people, demanding adaptability, respect, and a willingness to embrace uncertainty. Kendall’s journey is a testament to the enduring human curiosity that drives us to understand worlds beyond our own.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in early 20th-century China and Mongolia will find in this book a richly detailed, firsthand account of regions often overlooked in Western narratives. The writing is thoughtful and precise, offering insights into landscapes, cultures, and political realities that shaped the modern history of East Asia.

The book’s strength lies in its balance of descriptive beauty and critical observation, avoiding exoticism while conveying the strangeness and complexity of the places visited. It invites readers to slow down and appreciate the nuances of a world on the brink of transformation.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the period’s dated attitudes, especially regarding race and colonial dynamics, which appear candidly but without sensationalism. The prose, while accessible, reflects the travel writing style of its time, with occasional formalities and detailed digressions.

What lingers after reading is a sense of having traveled alongside a thoughtful observer who respects the dignity of the people she meets and the land she crosses. The book offers a window into a vanished world, making it valuable for those who seek depth over spectacle in travel literature.