In the mountains of northern Guangxi, a landscape exists where the harmony between nature and human endeavor is breathtakingly apparent.
This is the magic of the Longji Rice Terraces, a UNESCO World Heritage Site whose name, “Longji,” translates to the “Dragon’s Backbone.”
The name is a perfect piece of poetry; from a distance, the winding terraces resemble the shimmering scales on a dragon’s back as it slumbers, its spine curving along the contours of the mountains.
I went there as part of my ‘microexplorations’ of China and for my research for Red Hot China.
After all, when I got here for the first time, just as a tourist traveling around while working in China, I was told that people here were poor and winters were cold, so they “needed chilli to keep themselves warm.“
These terraced fields are among the most stunning examples of how history, landscape, human labor, and natural conditions can interact to create something both beautiful and ecologically functional.
They are not an ancient relic preserved under glass, but a living monument to centuries of agricultural wisdom.
This is a place that changes with the seasons: a network of shimmering mirrors in the spring when the paddies are flooded, a sea of lush green in the summer, and a cascade of golden grain in the autumn.
It’s a must-see destination for anyone wanting to understand the cultural landscapes of rural China.
A Tapestry of Cultures
The Longji Rice Terraces are not a single, monolithic entity.
They are a collection of terraced areas cultivated for centuries by the Zhuang and Yao ethnic minority peoples. Each group has shaped the land according to their own traditions, creating distinct cultural and visual landscapes within the larger region. To travel between them is to travel between cultures.
The main areas you will encounter are:
The Ping’an Terraces (Ping’an Titian)
This is the most famous and most developed section, centered around the bustling village of Ping’an.
As the first area opened to tourism, it is the most easily accessible and has a well-established network of guesthouses and restaurants. The main viewpoints here offer stunning, classic vistas of the terraces.
The Longji Ancient Zhuang Terraced Fields
This is a broader historical area that includes the Ping’an terraces but is centered on the quieter, more traditional village of Longji.
These fields are some of the oldest in the region and offer a glimpse into the deeper history of the Zhuang people’s life here, away from the main tourist hubs.
The Zhuang are known for their distinctive wooden stilt houses, ingeniously built to adapt to the steep hillsides, with livestock often kept on the ground floor and the family living above.
The Jinkeng Red Yao Terraces
Located deeper in the mountains, this area is home to the Red Yao people, named for their traditional, vibrant red embroidered clothing, which stands out vividly against the green landscape.
The main villages here are Dazhai and Tiantouzhai. The Jinkeng terraces are often considered the most dramatic and expansive, with some of the highest and most sweeping viewpoints.
The Red Yao women are particularly famous for their incredibly long hair, which is considered sacred and is traditionally cut only once in their lifetime, upon reaching marrying age. The intricate process of washing and coiling their hair is a ritual in itself.
A History Etched in the Landscape
The construction of the Longji terraces began during the Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368) and continued for centuries, right up until the early Qing Dynasty.
It’s a story of resilience and ingenuity, born from necessity.
It’s believed that the first terraces were built by minority peoples forced out of the fertile river plains and into these difficult mountain environments by expanding Han Chinese dynasties. To survive, they had to literally carve a living out of the mountainsides.
Walking the steep stone paths that wind through the fields, it’s hard not to be overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the labor involved.
Every single terrace, some no wider than a footpath, was carved from the hillside by hand, using only basic tools. Every retaining wall was built from stones cleared from the fields.
Perhaps most impressive is the irrigation system, a masterpiece of sustainable engineering. It captures water from mountain springs and streams, channeling it down through a complex network of bamboo pipes and hand-dug ditches, feeding each terrace level in succession without wasting a single drop.
It’s a testament to generations of back-breaking work and an intimate understanding of the land.
From Backwater to Tourist Hotspot
For most of their history, this was a remote and impoverished region where life was hard.
The development of tourism over the last few decades has completely transformed the local economy, turning a landscape of subsistence into a world-renowned cultural and natural wonder.
Ping’an was the first village to open to tourism and remains the easiest to reach, with a well-trodden path and established guesthouses.
The Jinkeng area, while further from the entrance, has seen massive, rapid development in recent years. The construction of a cable car to the Jinfoding (“Golden Buddha Peak”) viewing platform has made its spectacular views accessible to everyone, bringing in large tour groups and fundamentally changing the character of villages like Dazhai.
Tradition and Tourism in Flux
This rapid development creates a fascinating and complex dynamic for visitors to observe, a culture in visible transition.
Local cuisine is a great example. You can find delicious bamboo rice, a traditional dish where rice and fillings are stuffed inside a hollow bamboo tube and cooked over coals.
Years ago, when I first visited, what might have been the most authentic version included a field mouse or local insects for protein. Today, to cater to tourist tastes, you’ll find it almost exclusively made with chicken or preserved pork.
Similarly, on your trail through villages, you’ll see local women in traditional dress weaving on bamboo looms.
While the techniques and patterns are traditional, the materials have often been updated. The brightly colored threads are modern synthetics, not hand-spun, naturally dyed fibers. The final products you can buy as a souvenir are machine-stitched.
It’s a cheat if you look at it superficially, but it’s also a fascinating look at how a culture adapts, preserving its visual identity while meeting the demands of a new economy.
It’s the living, breathing evolution of a cultural landscape, happening right before your eyes, and a powerful reminder that “authenticity” is not a static point in the past, but a constantly shifting process.
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