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One day in Kunming I was riding on a bus from downtown back to my hotel on the east side of town. The loud TV at the front of the bus, plus the two women talking nearby, made it hard for me to hear the bus stop announcements. My stop was the 13th, so I tried counting stops, but my mind wandered and I lost count.
I became aware of another sound. It sounded like a movie soundtrack when all the stringed instruments play a sustained tremolo, creating a mood of suspense. I knew the sound was coming from the bus, but I started to imagine that I was in a movie, and that something unexpected, either wonderful or terrible, was about to happen: a terrorist bomb would explode, or at the next stop a handsome man would see a beautiful woman and fall in love with her. The bus started to go around a corner...
~~~
Ten days earlier, on February 1st, I’d gotten up early and dressed quickly, because there was no heat in my tiny room. The water had been turned off for winter so that it didn’t freeze and break the pipes. The narrow electric pad under the bedsheet kept me warm during the night, but when I emerged from under the thick white quilt I was soon chilled to the bone. I could see my breath as I poured hot water out of one of those big Chinese thermoses into a paper cup to make a cup of instant coffee.
I was in the village of Feilai Si – Feilai Temple – not far from the town of Deqen, in the northwestern corner of Yunnan Province. Feilai Si, at an altitude of 3360 m, is situated across a valley from the Meili Xue Shan (梅里雪山) – the Meili Snow Mountains. The day before, I’d taken a 4-hour bus ride up from Xianggelila (Shangri-La). The mountain road was curvy, now and then we drove over mini-glaciers that had crept down onto the road, and the bus driver simultaneously smoked, chatted on his phone, honked the horn often, and zipped around every slow vehicle he came up behind.
I’d come to Feilai Si to watch the jinding – the golden peaks as the sunrise lights up the mountains. After gulping down my coffee I threw on my coat, grabbed my camera, left my room, went up one flight of stairs to the inn’s flat roof, and waited in the dark for the sun to come up.
Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right
“Here Comes the Sun” – George Harrison,The Beatles, from the Abbey Road album
I was in the village of Feilai Si – Feilai Temple – not far from the town of Deqen, in the northwestern corner of Yunnan Province. Feilai Si, at an altitude of 3360 m, is situated across a valley from the Meili Xue Shan (梅里雪山) – the Meili Snow Mountains. The day before, I’d taken a 4-hour bus ride up from Xianggelila (Shangri-La). The mountain road was curvy, now and then we drove over mini-glaciers that had crept down onto the road, and the bus driver simultaneously smoked, chatted on his phone, honked the horn often, and zipped around every slow vehicle he came up behind.
I’d come to Feilai Si to watch the jinding – the golden peaks as the sunrise lights up the mountains. After gulping down my coffee I threw on my coat, grabbed my camera, left my room, went up one flight of stairs to the inn’s flat roof, and waited in the dark for the sun to come up.
Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right
“Here Comes the Sun” – George Harrison,The Beatles, from the Abbey Road album
~~~
On my first morning in Kunming I found the Jiujiu (Double 9) Teahouse, across the street from Cuihu – Green Lake – where I enjoyed a cup of coffee and chatted with the owner. At one point I asked him the meaning of the word “befei.” At first he didn’t know, but then I told him what I’d seen the evening before while walking in a park near my hotel.
I had passed by three Yizu women, (one of the 56 ethnic minorities in China), one of them with a baby strapped on her back, and all three rather scruffy looking. One asked me if I wanted to buy some “beifei,” and she showed me a tiny, plastic-wrapped wad of white powder. I politely declined and quickly moved on. The teahouse owner told me it was hailuoyin – heroine – that had come into China from Myanmar. I thought that was an interesting coincidence, because I was planning to go to the Myanmar border in a few days.
After finishing my coffee I crossed the street and took pictures of the hongzuiou – the red-beak seagulls, which someone told me are found nowhere else but Kunming’s Cuihu. I then headed to Yunnan University and had a look at some of the Western-style architecture. At a tiny restaurant I had lunch: a Daizu (the Dai ethnic minority) specialty called liangjuan fen (wide, curly noodles), with wandou fen (pasty yellow cubes).
I spent the next three days in and around Kunming. One day I took a taxi to Qiongzhu Si (筇竹寺) – the Bamboo Temple – a Buddhist temple situated on Yu'an Mountain, northwest of Kunming. The temple is famous for its painted clay sculptures of the 500 Buddhist arhats, all with unique facial expressions and body gestures. Some are kind of comical, some a little creepy.
The following day I went to Jiuxiang, a place east of Kunming, near the Stone Forest, where you can walk through several huge caves. The caves were impressive – bigger and more interesting than Guilin’s Seven Star Park Caves. That evening, back in Kunming, I went for a haircut, and it included a head and shoulder massage, all for only 15 yuan!
I had passed by three Yizu women, (one of the 56 ethnic minorities in China), one of them with a baby strapped on her back, and all three rather scruffy looking. One asked me if I wanted to buy some “beifei,” and she showed me a tiny, plastic-wrapped wad of white powder. I politely declined and quickly moved on. The teahouse owner told me it was hailuoyin – heroine – that had come into China from Myanmar. I thought that was an interesting coincidence, because I was planning to go to the Myanmar border in a few days.
After finishing my coffee I crossed the street and took pictures of the hongzuiou – the red-beak seagulls, which someone told me are found nowhere else but Kunming’s Cuihu. I then headed to Yunnan University and had a look at some of the Western-style architecture. At a tiny restaurant I had lunch: a Daizu (the Dai ethnic minority) specialty called liangjuan fen (wide, curly noodles), with wandou fen (pasty yellow cubes).
I spent the next three days in and around Kunming. One day I took a taxi to Qiongzhu Si (筇竹寺) – the Bamboo Temple – a Buddhist temple situated on Yu'an Mountain, northwest of Kunming. The temple is famous for its painted clay sculptures of the 500 Buddhist arhats, all with unique facial expressions and body gestures. Some are kind of comical, some a little creepy.
The following day I went to Jiuxiang, a place east of Kunming, near the Stone Forest, where you can walk through several huge caves. The caves were impressive – bigger and more interesting than Guilin’s Seven Star Park Caves. That evening, back in Kunming, I went for a haircut, and it included a head and shoulder massage, all for only 15 yuan!
~~~
Though I’d gone up to the rooftop too early, the sky and the mountains were already starting to lighten in Feilai Si. Somewhere in the back of my head the stringed instruments started quietly playing a sustained tone. I started taking pictures – blurry shots of white peaks in moonlight. It was cold and windy, so I did Tai Chi to warm up. I turned around and looked up at the lights of the grand hotel at the top of the hill, where for 260 yuan per night you can stay in heated rooms with hot water, and watch the mountains through huge windows. Somewhere nearby a rooster crowed, encouraging me to be patient.
The Meili Snow Mountains, part of the Hengduan Range, are bounded by the Nu River on the west and the Lancang River on the east, and form the lofty border between Yunnan and Tibet. The highest peak is Mt. Kawagebo (卡瓦格博), at 6740 m (22,110 ft.). Mt. Kawagebo, the spiritual home of a warrior god of the same name, is a sacred mountain for Tibetan Buddhists. Each year Tibetan pilgrims come to circumambulate the peak; an arduous 240 km (150 mi) trek. Mt. Mianzimu (缅茨姆), 6054 m (19,862 ft.), is the second highest peak, and is regarded as one of the world's most beautiful mountains.
On January 3rd, 1991, a nighttime avalanche killed all seventeen members of a joint Chinese-Japanese expedition, in one of the most deadly mountaineering accidents in history. Because of restrictions and dangerous conditions, none of the major peaks in the Meili Snow Mountains have ever been summited.
The Meili Snow Mountains, part of the Hengduan Range, are bounded by the Nu River on the west and the Lancang River on the east, and form the lofty border between Yunnan and Tibet. The highest peak is Mt. Kawagebo (卡瓦格博), at 6740 m (22,110 ft.). Mt. Kawagebo, the spiritual home of a warrior god of the same name, is a sacred mountain for Tibetan Buddhists. Each year Tibetan pilgrims come to circumambulate the peak; an arduous 240 km (150 mi) trek. Mt. Mianzimu (缅茨姆), 6054 m (19,862 ft.), is the second highest peak, and is regarded as one of the world's most beautiful mountains.
On January 3rd, 1991, a nighttime avalanche killed all seventeen members of a joint Chinese-Japanese expedition, in one of the most deadly mountaineering accidents in history. Because of restrictions and dangerous conditions, none of the major peaks in the Meili Snow Mountains have ever been summited.
~~~
One morning I joined a Chinese tour group headed for Mangshi in western Yunnan. The tour guide, a young man who’d grown up in Yunnan, spoke Mandarin without an accent, so I could understand most of what he said. Along the way we crossed over the Lancang River (the Mekong in Vietnam), and the Nu River (the Salween in Myanmar). In Daizu language Mangshi is called Meng Huan, which means "City of Dawn."
The next morning we drove to the small town of Wanding, on the China-Myanmar border. We stopped and took pictures at the Jiugu Qiao – the Jiugu Bridge, (also called the the Sino-Myanmar Friendship Bridge), that spans the Ruili River. I walked about halfway across the bridge and waved at the Myanmar men on the other side, but they ignored me.
In Manglin Village, just outside of Ruili, we visited the Ruili One-Tree Forest (瑞丽独树成林景区).
They claim the forest is one huge Ficus lacor tree (黄葛树). The horizontal branches send down vertical “prop” roots that grow into trunks, and the tree keeps growing out and down, covering acres.
We then visited the 50 m high Moli Waterfall in the Moli Tropical Rainforest Scenic Area (莫里热带雨林景区). According to the sign: “There is about 3000 Oxygen in every in the scenery. It is a good place for the living healthy. What an Oxygen barroom it is!” (sic) I was tempted to empty my water bottle and refill it with air for an evening nightcap.
We briefly visited the border crossing between Ruili, in China, and the town of Muse, in Myanmar (Burma). It was a busy place, with lots of cars, people peddling bicycle carts, and people on foot, crossing the border in both directions. I looked around for a place where I could sneak across unseen, but a stern look from a border guard dissuaded me.
After doing so much bus riding in the previous days, it was nice to do some hiking at the Tengchong National Volcanic and Geothermal Geopark (国家级三大地热公园) the next day. At the Dieshui River Scenic Spot (叠水河瀑布), our next stop, we viewed the Dieshui River Waterfall, the only waterfall in China inside a city.
I walked slowly through at the National War Cemetery, (国殇墓园), a place to “commemorate those of the four expeditionary forces who died resisting the Japanese in Yunnan.” The statues of General Stilwell and General Chennault, and the memorial to Maj. McMurrey the 18 American soldiers who died in the battle to free Tengchong, are impressive. And the gravestone-covered hill – over 9000 Chinese soldiers died while taking back Tengchong from the Japanese – is a sobering sight.
The next morning we drove to the small town of Wanding, on the China-Myanmar border. We stopped and took pictures at the Jiugu Qiao – the Jiugu Bridge, (also called the the Sino-Myanmar Friendship Bridge), that spans the Ruili River. I walked about halfway across the bridge and waved at the Myanmar men on the other side, but they ignored me.
In Manglin Village, just outside of Ruili, we visited the Ruili One-Tree Forest (瑞丽独树成林景区).
They claim the forest is one huge Ficus lacor tree (黄葛树). The horizontal branches send down vertical “prop” roots that grow into trunks, and the tree keeps growing out and down, covering acres.
We then visited the 50 m high Moli Waterfall in the Moli Tropical Rainforest Scenic Area (莫里热带雨林景区). According to the sign: “There is about 3000 Oxygen in every in the scenery. It is a good place for the living healthy. What an Oxygen barroom it is!” (sic) I was tempted to empty my water bottle and refill it with air for an evening nightcap.
We briefly visited the border crossing between Ruili, in China, and the town of Muse, in Myanmar (Burma). It was a busy place, with lots of cars, people peddling bicycle carts, and people on foot, crossing the border in both directions. I looked around for a place where I could sneak across unseen, but a stern look from a border guard dissuaded me.
After doing so much bus riding in the previous days, it was nice to do some hiking at the Tengchong National Volcanic and Geothermal Geopark (国家级三大地热公园) the next day. At the Dieshui River Scenic Spot (叠水河瀑布), our next stop, we viewed the Dieshui River Waterfall, the only waterfall in China inside a city.
I walked slowly through at the National War Cemetery, (国殇墓园), a place to “commemorate those of the four expeditionary forces who died resisting the Japanese in Yunnan.” The statues of General Stilwell and General Chennault, and the memorial to Maj. McMurrey the 18 American soldiers who died in the battle to free Tengchong, are impressive. And the gravestone-covered hill – over 9000 Chinese soldiers died while taking back Tengchong from the Japanese – is a sobering sight.
~~~
From the rooftop in Feilai Si I could see across the road the official “observation area”: a parking lot with a long, curved, low wall facing the Meili Snow Mountains. The day before, after we arrived, I had sauntered in to explore. I was stopped by a guard who told me that I had to buy a ticket – 150 yuan. I said “No thanks” and left.
The next morning, as the sky slowly grew lighter, I could see people gathering in the observation area. Several of the women wore long, thick, red coats, and several men wore identical camouflaged coats with thick, black, fur collars. I assumed they’d all come from the top of the hill, and that the coats, as well as the observation area entry tickets, were provided free to guests of the grand hotel.
People started moving up to the low wall, setting up tripods and screwing on giant cameras with lenses that resembled cannons. Smoke was flowing out of a white stupa that was also a fireplace, where people had gathered around to warm their hands. A Tibetan monk, wearing a maroon robe and a yellow hat, lit a spray of juniper, blew out the flames so that it smoked, then faced the mountains and started chanting.
“My view from up here is as good as theirs – maybe better,” I said to myself. My hands were freezing, my fingers hurting from the cold because I had to take off my gloves to take pictures. (The next morning I noticed red patches on my hands – chilblains.) I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and danced up and down. I laughed when I saw a dog trot up the street and then enter, unobserved, the “observation area.”
Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right
The next morning, as the sky slowly grew lighter, I could see people gathering in the observation area. Several of the women wore long, thick, red coats, and several men wore identical camouflaged coats with thick, black, fur collars. I assumed they’d all come from the top of the hill, and that the coats, as well as the observation area entry tickets, were provided free to guests of the grand hotel.
People started moving up to the low wall, setting up tripods and screwing on giant cameras with lenses that resembled cannons. Smoke was flowing out of a white stupa that was also a fireplace, where people had gathered around to warm their hands. A Tibetan monk, wearing a maroon robe and a yellow hat, lit a spray of juniper, blew out the flames so that it smoked, then faced the mountains and started chanting.
“My view from up here is as good as theirs – maybe better,” I said to myself. My hands were freezing, my fingers hurting from the cold because I had to take off my gloves to take pictures. (The next morning I noticed red patches on my hands – chilblains.) I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and danced up and down. I laughed when I saw a dog trot up the street and then enter, unobserved, the “observation area.”
Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right
~~~
As we stepped off the bus at Rehai Park (热海公园), outside of Tengchong, we were surrounded by several local women, shouting at us to buy strings of five raw eggs tied up in strips of bamboo. “For boiling in the hot springs,” one of my tour mates told me. The park is full of hot springs and geysers, all with interesting names.
We boiled our eggs at Big Boiling Pan Spring, and then had a look at Pearl Spring, Sisters Spring, Pregnancy Well Temple, and Toad Mouth – a geyser that resembles a choir of toads spewing out steam. For 270 yuan we could soak in the hot springs, so none of us soaked. One of my tour mates asked me how Rehai Park compared to America’s Huangshi Guojia Gongyuan, but I had to tell him that I’d never been Yellowstone. Now I’ll have to go and compare.
Heshun (和顺), a rustic village near Tengchong, is a quiet ancient town with narrow stone paths; a great place to slowly explore. It was a chilly morning, so I was happy to find a nice café to get a well-brewed coffee to go. Sights there include the Heshun old library, the Western Yunnan Anti-Japanese War Museum (滇西抗战博物馆), and the Large Horse Caravan Museum (大马帮博物馆).
After leaving Heshun we drove nearly four hours to Dali, where a new tour guide took over. He spoke really fast, spoke with a local accent, and never smiled. Worse, he gave us less than an hour to explore Dali old town. I used the ridiculously short amount of time to check out kezhan, inexpensive inns, where I could stay when I returned to Dali later in my trip.
Tian Long Dong (天龙洞) – Heaven Dragon Cave – is located in the Yunnong Peak, at the north end of the Cangshan mountain range. It’s a small but interesting cave that “looks like a lying long dragon.” Furthermore, at Tian Long Dong: “It is believed that after the excurse, you would not only realire the landscape and history of Dali, but also enjoy a very dood time.” (sic) Dude! Have a dood time!
From the cave we went to a Baizu house and watched a quaint but earnest dance performance. The Baizu ethnic minority have long settled in and around Dali. Before the performance I chatted with some of the performers. When they learned that I was divorced, they asked me if I wanted to marry one of the women in the group, who was also unmarried. We laughed and chatted, and I think they did not perform a Baizu wedding ceremony… but I’m not sure!
We boiled our eggs at Big Boiling Pan Spring, and then had a look at Pearl Spring, Sisters Spring, Pregnancy Well Temple, and Toad Mouth – a geyser that resembles a choir of toads spewing out steam. For 270 yuan we could soak in the hot springs, so none of us soaked. One of my tour mates asked me how Rehai Park compared to America’s Huangshi Guojia Gongyuan, but I had to tell him that I’d never been Yellowstone. Now I’ll have to go and compare.
Heshun (和顺), a rustic village near Tengchong, is a quiet ancient town with narrow stone paths; a great place to slowly explore. It was a chilly morning, so I was happy to find a nice café to get a well-brewed coffee to go. Sights there include the Heshun old library, the Western Yunnan Anti-Japanese War Museum (滇西抗战博物馆), and the Large Horse Caravan Museum (大马帮博物馆).
After leaving Heshun we drove nearly four hours to Dali, where a new tour guide took over. He spoke really fast, spoke with a local accent, and never smiled. Worse, he gave us less than an hour to explore Dali old town. I used the ridiculously short amount of time to check out kezhan, inexpensive inns, where I could stay when I returned to Dali later in my trip.
Tian Long Dong (天龙洞) – Heaven Dragon Cave – is located in the Yunnong Peak, at the north end of the Cangshan mountain range. It’s a small but interesting cave that “looks like a lying long dragon.” Furthermore, at Tian Long Dong: “It is believed that after the excurse, you would not only realire the landscape and history of Dali, but also enjoy a very dood time.” (sic) Dude! Have a dood time!
From the cave we went to a Baizu house and watched a quaint but earnest dance performance. The Baizu ethnic minority have long settled in and around Dali. Before the performance I chatted with some of the performers. When they learned that I was divorced, they asked me if I wanted to marry one of the women in the group, who was also unmarried. We laughed and chatted, and I think they did not perform a Baizu wedding ceremony… but I’m not sure!
~~~
On the bus from Xianggelila to Feilai Si I sat next to a Buddhist monk. He told me that he, the other monk and the two nuns on the bus, were headed to Mt. Kawagebo to worship the Buddha. I learned that they were going to Lianhua Temple, perched on the side of the mountain at 3480m. The monk saw me thumbing a Buddhist prayer bead bracelet on my wrist, (that bus driver made me really nervous), and he asked me if I believed in Buddha. I told him I liked some of the Buddhist teachings, but that I wasn’t a Buddhist. I asked him if I could also go to where he was headed, and he warmly welcomed me to join him. But I didn't go; this time I only viewed the mountains from a distance. Maybe next time I’ll hike up to the temple and stay for a while.
After having dinner in Feilai Si, I went for a walk with a young woman who always smiled, even when she talked, and her younger sister who was quite shy; we had all been on the bus from Xianggelila. We walked to the edge of the village and found the Feilai Temple, but it was closed. As we passed by a farmhouse a man emerged and invited us to come in and warm ourselves by his fire. The man was a Zangzu (Tibetan), and his cute little daughter could already speak Chinese, Tibetan, and a little English. The man himself had never gone to school and was illiterate – he had learned from tourists how to speak Mandarin. He was unpretentious and cordial, apologetic about his humble home, and he wanted us to stay longer. When I return to Feilai Si I’ll visit him again, take a few books for his daughter, and some socks for him.
After having dinner in Feilai Si, I went for a walk with a young woman who always smiled, even when she talked, and her younger sister who was quite shy; we had all been on the bus from Xianggelila. We walked to the edge of the village and found the Feilai Temple, but it was closed. As we passed by a farmhouse a man emerged and invited us to come in and warm ourselves by his fire. The man was a Zangzu (Tibetan), and his cute little daughter could already speak Chinese, Tibetan, and a little English. The man himself had never gone to school and was illiterate – he had learned from tourists how to speak Mandarin. He was unpretentious and cordial, apologetic about his humble home, and he wanted us to stay longer. When I return to Feilai Si I’ll visit him again, take a few books for his daughter, and some socks for him.
~~~
On our first day in Lijiang our tour group went to a Provincial Nature Reserve called the Lashihai Wetland Park (拉市海湿地公园), west of Lijiang, where we rode horses and went for a short boat ride in small, uncomfortable, punted boats. It was cold and extremely windy on the lake. The place attracts a lot of tourists and photographers because it’s an important breeding ground and wintering habitat for several species of wild geese and ducks. Maybe the birds were smarter than us and were staying out of the wind, because we saw only a few on the lake – some big white ones that I couldn’t find out the name of.
Our next stop was more interesting: Shuhe old town (束河古镇), northwest of Lijiang, in the forest at the foot of Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, (玉龙雪山, Yulong Xue Shan). The pretty little town is populated primarily by the Naxi and Bai minorities, and was a very important town on the ancient Tea Horse Road (茶马道), which linked southwest China to Tibet and Northern India. There were plenty of shops, bars, and restaurants, but the town seems less touristy than Lijiang old town.
(The Tea Horse Road: http://gochina.about.com/od/yunnanprovinceguide/qt/An-Introduction-To-The-Ancient-Tea-Horse-Road.htm)
Our next stop was more interesting: Shuhe old town (束河古镇), northwest of Lijiang, in the forest at the foot of Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, (玉龙雪山, Yulong Xue Shan). The pretty little town is populated primarily by the Naxi and Bai minorities, and was a very important town on the ancient Tea Horse Road (茶马道), which linked southwest China to Tibet and Northern India. There were plenty of shops, bars, and restaurants, but the town seems less touristy than Lijiang old town.
(The Tea Horse Road: http://gochina.about.com/od/yunnanprovinceguide/qt/An-Introduction-To-The-Ancient-Tea-Horse-Road.htm)
In the afternoon, I and a young woman who was traveling alone explored the alleys of Lijiang gucheng – Lijiang old town – paved with stones worn smooth from the many tourists. After dinner we walked a few blocks to the National Culture Exchange Center Theatre, where we watched an elaborate and colorful performance called “Lishui Jinsha” (丽水金沙) – the “Mountains Rivers Show”. The dazzling, folk-opera performance, billed as a “dance poem”, showcases the Lijiang area ethnic minority peoples’ music, dance, and costumes. If you go to Lijiang, watching the “Mountains Rivers Show” is a must.
(“Mountains Rivers Show”: http://english.people.com.cn/102775/100668/205045/7843106.html)
A lot of hikers like to make a two-day excursion hiking on the upper trail at Lijiang’s Tiger Leaping Gorge (虎跳峡). Formed by the Jinsha River running between Haba Mountain and Yulong Snow Mountain, the 16 km long gorge is 3900 m from the water to the mountain peaks; one of the deepest gorges in the world. Our tour group spent a couple of hours hiking on the lower trail.
The last item on our Lijiang itinerary said “Zangzu Home Visit (藏民家访).” To me it looked more like a meeting hall than a private home, created specifically as an expensive tour group stop – we had to pay an extra 280 yuan on top of the tour fee. But it was an interesting evening. We drank yak butter tea, ate roast lamb, and watched a Zangzu song and dance performance. At one point I went outside because the performance was too loud, and because of the smoke – from the many men smoking, and from the open cooking fire. I gazed at the stars, which I hadn’t seen in a long time – I never see them in Beijing.
~~~
In Feilai Si the young women who always smiled, her shy sister and I thanked the Zangzu man for inviting us in, and we said goodbye to him and his daughter. Now that was an authentic Zangzu home visit: unplanned, intimate, and real.
We went to another inn, where a lot of hikers had gathered to eat and plan their hikes. I was the only Westerner there. Some people were watching a documentary about an attempted climb of Mt. Kawagebo, during which a climber died. I chatted with a young man who wanted to recruit me to join his group on a hike the next day: 20 km up a mountain valley, stay at a village inn, 20 km out the next day. I asked him a lot of questions about the trail conditions, the elevation change, and the pace they planned to take, and I finally told him I wanted to sleep on it. 40 km (25 mi) in two days, at high altitude, sounded like more than I was up for. And besides, I’d come mainly to watch the sunrise on the Meili Snow Mountains.
Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right
We went to another inn, where a lot of hikers had gathered to eat and plan their hikes. I was the only Westerner there. Some people were watching a documentary about an attempted climb of Mt. Kawagebo, during which a climber died. I chatted with a young man who wanted to recruit me to join his group on a hike the next day: 20 km up a mountain valley, stay at a village inn, 20 km out the next day. I asked him a lot of questions about the trail conditions, the elevation change, and the pace they planned to take, and I finally told him I wanted to sleep on it. 40 km (25 mi) in two days, at high altitude, sounded like more than I was up for. And besides, I’d come mainly to watch the sunrise on the Meili Snow Mountains.
Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right
~~~
On January 30 our tour bus rolled into Xianggelia (Shangri-La), formerly named Zhongdian, and on that day I left the tour group. In the morning we visited the Guishan Temple in Guishan Park, situated on a hill next to Dukezong old town (独克宗古城). Beside the temple is a monolithic 24 m (80 ft.) tall golden prayer wheel. I visited the temple and strolled through Dukezong, where I came across a nice inn where a little dog with brown curly hair, named kafei (coffee), greeted me with great enthusiasm. I returned to the bus and saw my fellow tour group members boarding the bus (wearily, it seemed to me). The plan was to go to two more scenic spots on the way back down to Lijiang, and then take a train back to Kunming.
I really didn’t want to get back on that bus and view the world through dirty bus windows. I was tired of listening to the amplified, memorized, incomprehensible patter of the tour guide; a Chinese tour group member told me he couldn’t understand the tour guide either. I wanted to go back to the café, have a cup of coffee and relax, and then explore Xianggelila at my own pace, go where I wanted to go, stop and chat with the local people. It had been a long and fast-paced nine days, with frequent shopping stops, bad hotels, and some uninteresting “scenic spots.” I told the tour guide I wasn’t going back to Lijiang with them, took my luggage off the bus, and said goodbye to my tour mates. Free at last!
I returned to the inn and had a cup of coffee and an early lunch. At the owner’s recommendation I then took local bus number 3 to the Songzanlin Si (松赞林寺). It’s an impressive 300-year old Tibetan Buddhist monastery, resembling Lhasa’s Potala Palace. I sat outside one of the many temples and chatted with a young monk about Buddhism, Christianity, and Chinese women, (our conversation wandered). He gave me a prayer bracelet made of small wooden beads, and showed me how to thumb one bead at a time while chanting. And he taught me how to worship Buddha: light the incense, place the sticks in the incense holder in front of me, place my hands together with my thumbs in, touch my head-mouth-heart, bow three times, kneel and prostrate three times. The monk let me take his picture, but asked me not to put it on my website.
That evening I felt relaxed and happy. I had a delicious dinner – Yak meat vegie soup, plus flat barley bread stuffed with yak meat and vegies – at the Lhasa Restaurant in Dukezong old town. I was looking forward to going to Meili Xue Shan the next day. Even though I’d already been traveling for several days, in a way I felt my trip was about to begin.
I really didn’t want to get back on that bus and view the world through dirty bus windows. I was tired of listening to the amplified, memorized, incomprehensible patter of the tour guide; a Chinese tour group member told me he couldn’t understand the tour guide either. I wanted to go back to the café, have a cup of coffee and relax, and then explore Xianggelila at my own pace, go where I wanted to go, stop and chat with the local people. It had been a long and fast-paced nine days, with frequent shopping stops, bad hotels, and some uninteresting “scenic spots.” I told the tour guide I wasn’t going back to Lijiang with them, took my luggage off the bus, and said goodbye to my tour mates. Free at last!
I returned to the inn and had a cup of coffee and an early lunch. At the owner’s recommendation I then took local bus number 3 to the Songzanlin Si (松赞林寺). It’s an impressive 300-year old Tibetan Buddhist monastery, resembling Lhasa’s Potala Palace. I sat outside one of the many temples and chatted with a young monk about Buddhism, Christianity, and Chinese women, (our conversation wandered). He gave me a prayer bracelet made of small wooden beads, and showed me how to thumb one bead at a time while chanting. And he taught me how to worship Buddha: light the incense, place the sticks in the incense holder in front of me, place my hands together with my thumbs in, touch my head-mouth-heart, bow three times, kneel and prostrate three times. The monk let me take his picture, but asked me not to put it on my website.
That evening I felt relaxed and happy. I had a delicious dinner – Yak meat vegie soup, plus flat barley bread stuffed with yak meat and vegies – at the Lhasa Restaurant in Dukezong old town. I was looking forward to going to Meili Xue Shan the next day. Even though I’d already been traveling for several days, in a way I felt my trip was about to begin.
~~~
Around 7:45 am on February 1st – I’d been on the roof for 40 minutes – the red-coated women and the camouflaged-coated men in the observation area all moved toward the low wall. The stringed instruments in my head continued to play, grew louder – now not a single note but a complex and foreboding blend of tones. The rooster crowed again. It was really cold and I was shivering; I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to hold my camera still. I was glad to see there
were no clouds obscuring the mountains.
While I was watching the Tibetan monk petting the dog, a murmur and a cheer went up from the crowd below. I looked up and saw that the tip of Mt. Kawagebo had turned gold. Maybe because of the high elevation, the lack of sleep the night before, or merely because the sight was truly breathtaking – overwhelming, too moving – I suddenly found it hard to breathe, I felt my throat tighten, and my eyes grew moist. I cry easily – listening to music, watching movies – it’s sometimes a problem. I didn’t want tears to blur my vision, so I controlled myself and starting taking pictures.
The golden light moved down the triangular peak of Mt. Kawagebo, and then started lighting up the other peaks. I was breathing fast and snapping lots of pictures. I’d never seen anything so beautiful, so awesome, so humbling. The sun had come up again. I know, it does every morning, but I’d never seen it light up such an amazing scene. I took pictures for a while as the entire mountain range slowly turned golden, and then I turned and left the rooftop.
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
were no clouds obscuring the mountains.
While I was watching the Tibetan monk petting the dog, a murmur and a cheer went up from the crowd below. I looked up and saw that the tip of Mt. Kawagebo had turned gold. Maybe because of the high elevation, the lack of sleep the night before, or merely because the sight was truly breathtaking – overwhelming, too moving – I suddenly found it hard to breathe, I felt my throat tighten, and my eyes grew moist. I cry easily – listening to music, watching movies – it’s sometimes a problem. I didn’t want tears to blur my vision, so I controlled myself and starting taking pictures.
The golden light moved down the triangular peak of Mt. Kawagebo, and then started lighting up the other peaks. I was breathing fast and snapping lots of pictures. I’d never seen anything so beautiful, so awesome, so humbling. The sun had come up again. I know, it does every morning, but I’d never seen it light up such an amazing scene. I took pictures for a while as the entire mountain range slowly turned golden, and then I turned and left the rooftop.
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
After breakfast I told the young man who was going hiking that I’d seen what I’d come to see, and that I was going to head back to Xianggelila with the smiling woman and her shy sister. We boarded a small van along with three young men, who were exhausted from hiking the day before. The driver chanted a Buddhist chant as he drove; a relaxing, comforting sound. We made a stop at a monastery so that the driver could say hello to his older sister, a Tibetan Buddhist nun. Later we passed by two men and a boy herding cattle on the mountain road.
The next day, my last day in Xianggelila, I took a bus up to the Balagezong National Scenic Area (吧拉格宗国家级风景明星区) for a half a day of canyon hiking. I had dinner again at the Lhasa Restaurant, and when it got dark I enjoyed the view from my room of the Guishan Temple and giant prayer wheel, lit up with golden lights.
During the day I’d found at a bookstore a copy of James Hilton’s fantasy-adventure novel Lost Horizon, so I started reading it that night. In 2001 Zhongdian county officially renamed itself Xianggelila, (香格里拉, Chinese for Shangri-La), claiming to be the inspiration for the novel. I’ll admit that either towering Mt. Kawagebo or pretty Mt. Mianzimu could pass for Hilton’s fictional Mt. Karakal, and that the Songzanlin Monastery looks like a good model for the monastery where Conway chatted with the High Lama and listened to pretty Lo-tsen play the piano. Xianggelila is a nice place to relax and experience – an exotic place, with blue skies and clean air, maybe more spiritual than most places – but it’s a real town and a tourist destination, not a utopia.
(Lost Horizon: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lost_Horizon;
Shangri-La: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shangri-La)
~~~
The next day, February 3rd, I was back in Lijiang. I found a clean, cheap hotel near the north end of the Black Dragon Pool Park. I visited the park, and the Lijiang Municipal Museum, (formerly the Lijiang Dongba Cultural Museum), which has lots of information about the Naxi people, their religion, and their unique pictographic writing system. The Naxi are one of China’s ethnic minorities, and "Dongba" is word that stands for both their religion and their ancient pictographic writing system.
During the Cultural Revolution, thousands of manuscripts were destroyed. Paper and cloth
writings were boiled into construction paste for building houses. About half of the Dongba
manuscripts that survive today had been taken from China to the United States, Germany
and Spain. Today Dongba is nearly extinct, and the Chinese government is trying to revive
it in an attempt to preserve Naxi culture.
(“Dongba symbols”, Wikipedia; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dongba_symbols)
(An article about the Naxi people and the Dongba religion: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naxi_people)
During the Cultural Revolution, thousands of manuscripts were destroyed. Paper and cloth
writings were boiled into construction paste for building houses. About half of the Dongba
manuscripts that survive today had been taken from China to the United States, Germany
and Spain. Today Dongba is nearly extinct, and the Chinese government is trying to revive
it in an attempt to preserve Naxi culture.
(“Dongba symbols”, Wikipedia; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dongba_symbols)
(An article about the Naxi people and the Dongba religion: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naxi_people)
Shigu zhen (石鼓镇) – Stone Drum Town – is situated on the banks of the Yangtze River, not far from Lijiang. This quiet town is the closest you can get to the Yangtze River’s First Bend (长江第一湾), where the river, flowing southeastward out of the Qinghai-Tibetan Plateau, makes a
V-shaped turn to the northeast within a distance of 1 kilometer. If not for a fence stopping me, I could have washed my hands in the blue-green waters of the Yangtze – still fairly clean water at that point.
I spent my last evening strolling through Lijiang old town. In travel books and online some disparaging comments are written about Lijiang old town – commercialized and packed with tourists. If you want a quieter, more authentic atmosphere, Dali old town is better, and Dukezong old town in Xianggelila is the best. But I liked Lijiang; it’s fun mix of Eastern and Western cultures. For dinner I had soup and baba bread, fried flat bread that can be made salty or sweet, and the restaurant owner was pleased when I told him “Gingle tea” should be spelled “Ginger tea.” After dinner I stopped to listen to a young Chinese man playing his guitar and singing Don McLean’s song, “Vincent,” and doing a pretty good job of it.
Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.
~~~
My second time in Dali I stayed at the Yu Yuan Inn on Red Dragon Street (红龙井街), in Dali old town. Red Dragon Street is also called Waterview Street (水景街), because it’s a narrow lane, closed to car traffic, with a narrow stream cascading down the center of the street. The stream was right below my window, and its murmuring was a nice sound to fall asleep to.
I stayed in Dali for three and a half days. Each day consisted of an excursion or a hike during the day, back to old town in the late afternoon, dinner at the Bamboo Café, where I helped the young waitress with her English, and then an evening stroll. Butterfly Spring Park (蝴蝶泉公园), and the Chongsheng Temple and Three Pagoda Cultural Tourist Area, (崇圣三塔, 三塔寺), easy day trips from Dali, are both worth visiting.
I woke up one morning in Dali determined not to ride in any buses, vans, or taxis that day. At 9:30 I started walking west from Dali old town to a trail going up into Cangshan, the mountain range west of Dali, to the Zhonghe Temple (中和寺). There I met a nice Chinese couple and their young daughter, so we hiked together on the mountain ridge for a while. I saw the guy do something I’ve never seen in China: he went off the trail to pick up two empty plastic bottles. The couple headed back to Dali, while I took another steep trail up the mountain. I got back to Dali after 5:30 in the evening, and slept very well that night.
On my last day in Dali I took a public bus to Zhou Cheng (周成) – Zhou Town – at the north end of Erhai Lake. I strolled around the village, chatted with an old man as he smoked his long pipe, and bought a Naxi handmade tie-died tablecloth. I then walked from Zhou Cheng to Erhai to have a last look at the lake.
I stayed in Dali for three and a half days. Each day consisted of an excursion or a hike during the day, back to old town in the late afternoon, dinner at the Bamboo Café, where I helped the young waitress with her English, and then an evening stroll. Butterfly Spring Park (蝴蝶泉公园), and the Chongsheng Temple and Three Pagoda Cultural Tourist Area, (崇圣三塔, 三塔寺), easy day trips from Dali, are both worth visiting.
I woke up one morning in Dali determined not to ride in any buses, vans, or taxis that day. At 9:30 I started walking west from Dali old town to a trail going up into Cangshan, the mountain range west of Dali, to the Zhonghe Temple (中和寺). There I met a nice Chinese couple and their young daughter, so we hiked together on the mountain ridge for a while. I saw the guy do something I’ve never seen in China: he went off the trail to pick up two empty plastic bottles. The couple headed back to Dali, while I took another steep trail up the mountain. I got back to Dali after 5:30 in the evening, and slept very well that night.
On my last day in Dali I took a public bus to Zhou Cheng (周成) – Zhou Town – at the north end of Erhai Lake. I strolled around the village, chatted with an old man as he smoked his long pipe, and bought a Naxi handmade tie-died tablecloth. I then walked from Zhou Cheng to Erhai to have a last look at the lake.
~~~
In Kunming, on Sunday 2/10 – Spring Festival – it was crowded and lively around Cuihu (Green Lake). I visited the Yunnan Provincial Museum, then Yunnan Military Academy Museum (云南陆军讲武堂), on the west side of Cuihu. In the afternoon I returned to the Jiujiu Teahouse, where I had started my trip in Yunnan. I drank a pot of green tea and told the owner and his daughter the tale of my travels.
On my last day in Kunming I went back downtown to Cuihu, in the mood to find a bookstore. I walked to the area near Yunnan University, and there found a small bookstore where I bought the Lonely Planet Guide to China. I hadn’t brought a copy from the US, and I’ve never been able to find it in Beijing – rumor is that it’s banned because the book refers to Taiwan as a separate country rather than part of China. But this small, independent bookstore had it, as well as a copy of Soul Mountain by Gao Xingjian, whose books are also impossible to find in Beijing.
On my last day in Kunming I went back downtown to Cuihu, in the mood to find a bookstore. I walked to the area near Yunnan University, and there found a small bookstore where I bought the Lonely Planet Guide to China. I hadn’t brought a copy from the US, and I’ve never been able to find it in Beijing – rumor is that it’s banned because the book refers to Taiwan as a separate country rather than part of China. But this small, independent bookstore had it, as well as a copy of Soul Mountain by Gao Xingjian, whose books are also impossible to find in Beijing.
Sitting in the quiet French Café, not far from the bookstore, reading my Lonely Planet China, I became aware of the undertone; the suspenseful tremolo of the strings. Even though I’m often distracted by reality and am not aware of the sound, I believe it's playing at all times, always creating suspense, because we never know what’s around the next corner.
Around the next corner could be a nice café where I meet and chat with a new friend, or a car accident might be around the next corner, or a text message from a student, an earthquake that brings our houses down upon our heads, a smiling baby in a mother’s arms, a nightmare, an email from a loved one, a plane crash in a "lost" Tibetan valley, the sight of a young man reading Hesse’s Siddhartha that reminds me of college days, the loss of a loved one, the lovely sound of “Fernleaf Hedge Bamboo in the Moonlight” being played on a hulusi, a feeling of loneliness that neither coffee nor sunshine can dispel, an unexpected opportunity to help someone in need of help, a presentiment of old age, the sight of an elderly couple holding hands as they cross the street, a handsome young couple with their future yet to unfold, a nighttime avalanche, a child’s laughter, Shi Tiesheng’s aubergine, a hundred birds swooping and turning in unison, a feeling of genuine love for someone, the shape of a beautiful body, a nice person sitting next to you on an airplane, a cheerful Buddhist monk, the way the sunlight shines on a women’s long black hair, the toothless smile that comes over an old man’s face when you greet him in his language, the happy sound of children playing, a happy memory…
I don’t know what’s around the next corner. I’ve never seen this movie and I don’t know what happens in the next scene. I just hope it’s a good movie, which for me means it’s not too predictable, and is full of adventures, challenges, sorrows and joys. And though I can’t help but hope for particular scenes, I’d prefer to be surprised by whatever comes along. I just want to hear the music for as long as I can, the suspenseful sound of the strings, because when the music stops the movie ends.
It seems to me we can choose how we want to interpret the tremolo of the strings – an exciting sound or an ominous sound. Though I don’t always have the courage to, I’d like to always be anticipating a beautiful golden sunrise on snowy mountain peaks. It’s moments before sunrise, people wearing thick winter coats are lined up, readying their cameras and blowing on their cold fingers, they’ve forgotten all disappointments and worries, and the stringed instruments are sustaining a single suspenseful note…
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right
It's all right
~~~