We were recently gifted with our first visitor to our home here in Pengshan- Momma Alice and her daughter (and our friend from Crested Butte) Whitney. They came on a Wednesday, got the whirlwind tour from the college which seemed to last 36 hours straight, (I’ve noticed that planning your entire visit without consulting you is a reoccurring Chinese theme) after which we got to spend some time with them. We decided a short trip to downtown Pengshan was necessary, so we hopped into a cab and got out at Pungzu Square. Waiting for us was an enormous group of 3rd graders. They were all lined up at the entrance with the teachers trying to hold them in an orderly group, which was working until they saw us. It was cute; Alice took some photos; and we walked past them after lots of “hello” and waves. Continuing into the square after seeing them waiting to go in was our first mistake.
We walked to the big statue of Pungzu himself overlooking Pengshan, the man who has been claimed to have lived 800 years (I am ever dubious, but my classes seem split 50/50 as to if it’s the truth). We were enjoying the view of the river when we heard the cries and growing roar of 300 3rd graders running up the stairs toward us. Our second mistake was not running right then and there.
Please understand, at first it was fun and kind of sweet. They gathered around us (probably the first foreigners they have ever seen) and asked where we were from, what were our names, and so on. Imagine: each of us an island surrounded by a sea of Chinese 3rd graders that surged and crashed, but never ebbed. It was like a high tide coming in when you are at the base of a cliff. But it was ok, manageable, until I made the third and fatal mistake.
And it was an innocent mistake. Believe me, I had no ill intentions. One kid just asked how to spell my name. So I wrote it for him on a piece of paper with his pen and handed it back. Honest mistake, right? Suddenly, floating eyes on the ocean’s surface widened as one singular thought rippled throughout the mass:
The foreigner is giving autographs!
Suddenly I was confronted with more pens than I could count and papers being shoved in my face. I got about 20 off, thinking this was really funny and also realizing I have a completely illegible signature. I looked over and saw the phenomenon spreading to Luke’s, Alice’s, and Whitney’s oceans. But it quickly got out of hand. Kids got nasty--pushing each other out of the way, yelling when I didn’t grab their paper, grabbing other’s signatures. So we all bailed at the same time. Pushing my way out and holding my hands up the way I imagine Brad Pit does walking out of a press conference, I battled the surging tide and swam for freedom. One kid got in front of me with a set expression on his face and began body checking me when I pushed past him. It seemed to capture the desperation of the situation- this tiny 3rd grader trying to hold me back, the 6ft tall American, for more autographs. He wasn’t successful.
We escaped to our favorite yogurt shop, feeling completely overwhelmed. This had never happened before to us, any of us. Glad to have escaped with our lives, we laughed at the thought that we had just created a black market at the school for the few autographs they got from the foreigners in Pungzu Square.
The next day we set out on a three day journey west into the Tibetan Plateau. As has become our tradition, we started it with baotzi in a bag after sunrise.
We had an hour long ride into Chengdu, after which we got onto a public bus and for 105 RMB, drove for 18 hours into the mountains. When asking around about this bus, we got a wide range of answers for how long it would take to get to Gong Ga Shan, our destination. Gilbert said 3. Dr. Zou said 8. A map I had said 7. And other fell in between. So, when the bus stopped at a little shop on the side of the road after 3.5 hours, we were hopeful we were almost there. Nope, just a Chinese noodle break. By now, Luke and I have become connoisseurs of dried ramen noodle bowls. After that stop, however, the scenery began to draw me away from my book. We drove up tall and steep canyons, zigzagged up switchbacks which were just mind blowing (so sharp and numerous) as they went up the mountain like a ladder, and finally through an enormous tunnel that was 难以想象(nan yi xiang xiang; you can’t imagine), taking us through a mountain. What we saw on the other side seemed to make the entire bus gasp. We had entered the DaDu River drainage and were now in the Himalayan Plateau. The valley dropped nearly vertically from the road as we wound our way down (more switchbacks), but what was amazed me most was the lack of smog. It wasn’t clear, there were clouds, but they were clouds. You could see under them. It was beautiful; I felt as if I had come home.
I sat next to a young woman from Shanghai travelling to the glacier on her own. We talked most of the ride, me learning some Chinese and her learning some English. I am constantly amazed with how much a smile, patience, a little Chinese, and a desire to learn will make you friends here in China. Also, I’m impressed with how friendly most people are. She shared her French truffles with me, which was one of the best things I have had here. Thinking about them now makes my mouth water. With such good company and scenery to look at, the 8 hours flew by. And it was 8 hours, by the way. We arrived in Moxi after driving up a narrow valley from the DaDu River. Saw this bridge along the way, which was one of the craziest we’ve seen yet. I have been surprised with the crazy bridges that I see linking people’s homes across the river to the road, some being straight from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, but this was the best so far.
Moxi had a small quiet feel to it. I immediately liked it. Our crew getting off the bus. Notice Luke, as ever, looking up Chinese words on his magic device.
After some exploring and walking around, we found a hotel that we bargained down a bit to 100 RMB a night with 2 beds. It was very comfortable and had a this great view of the mountains out the window:
We found a small restaurant that did the most amazing thing when we walked in. They gestured for us to follow them into the kitchen, where they proudly showed us all the vegetables and meats they had to cook with. It all looked delicious and their excitement about food won me over instantly. We had some of the best eggplant and fried rice of China there in that little family restaurant in the mountains of Moxi. They gave us yak butter tea, which Luke finished but I couldn’t. It felt like drinking butter, which would take me some getting used to. I thought of my dad’s stories of eating sticks of butter on the Iditarod. The host of the family looked our age or younger, but when Momma Alice asked (which apparently isn’t rude) he turned out to be 29. The Chinese do age well. We sat around a fire we found later on the street and watched rabbit, goat, chicken, and sheep being roasted. It was great to sit next to a fire. Seeing the stars again kept me staring outside in the shadow between two street lights late that night. This will never get old, I thought.
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| Saturday morning |
Saturday was dedicated to seeing the glacier and the park, Hai Luo Gou. Despite getting up at 7:00, we were late by Chinese standards and had to fight the crowd to buy entrance tickets and board the busses going up the valley. This feels more like a mosh pit than a line and involves a great deal of pushing, getting your arm through and letting your body follow, and yelling in Chinese. I’m not a fan. When one man was particularly rude, I learned that “ni mei you li mao” means “you have no manners”. But we eventually got on the bus and drove the breath-taking hour up the valley and to the base camp village. It was an incredible day- completely clear in all directions, with crisp air of autumn but warm from so much sun. Declining the 150 RMB cable car ride up, we took the 2 km hiking trail to the glacier “tongue”.
It was paradise for me, walking through the forest surrounded by all the smells and sounds. AND, the trees were HUGE for Chinese trees (because most have been cut down). I walked with my head straight up for a good bit of the walk. Cresting a rise, we reached the incredible view of the glacier and the tallest mountain outside of Tibet in China: Mt. GongGa. We took plenty of photos.
We walked over with glacier, drinking ice melt, exploring the cracks and fins, throwing snowballs (the first of this season), soaking up the sun, and most of all, staring in awe at a mountain 24,000 feet tall (the tallest I’ve ever seen). We were extremely lucky, for we heard that the mountain is usually veiled in clouds. We walked back and found that China has a deciduous conifer, just like the Western Larches and Tamaracks of the West (I was the most excited about this find).
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| Deciduous conifer! |
More bussing followed to get back to Moxi and our hotel beds. A great day, but it ended with us learning that the bus station was sold out of tickets to Chengdu for tomorrow. Our host said that she would have a driver in the morning for us and would have it all worked out. We slept soundly, and warmly (it was very chilly at night, which felt welcoming), that night.
Sunday was an epic. We got in a taxi-looking car at 7:30 and drove down the valley and along the DaDu for awhile. Then we stopped next to another guy parked on the road and they talked very fast for a long time. The driver turned to Luke and spoke very fast again. Luke’s guess was that this guy would take us to Chengdu. But would he drive us to Chengdu? No, he would take us to Chengdu. We didn’t get anywhere, so our driver drove us to a parking lot with busses pulling into it and this other driver followed us. A bus would pull up to this building, everyone would get out and be greeted by people in hospital coats, and everyone would go inside. This was not a bus station. Now we were worried that we were going to be stuck somewhere and not know how to get back to Chengdu. Eventually, we were led to one of the busses, asked to pay the new guy 100 RMB each, and were allowed to get on the empty bus. The drivers left. Were we ever confused and a little worried. Thankfully, everyone got back on shortly and one gentleman was from Malaysia and spoke really good English. Turns out we were now part of a tour that ended in Chengdu! This tour involved stopping at a jewelry store and a meat market where we got to sample a hoard of dried and cooked meats, including yak. I learned how to use toothpicks as chopsticks. A few turns down the tasting lines and lunch was finished. We got back on the bus and we were stopped by the police along the side of the road. The driver got into a long “discussion” with the police man, after which he came into the bus and removed one seat form the back row. Everyone looked confused by this maneuver. But after the police had the seat, we were free to go. Luke’s best guess was that the bus permit allowed for one seat less than the bus had. Oh, China.
The morning car ride and the tour prolonged an 8 hour bus ride into a 12 hour bumpy, lurching, and heaving ordeal, but I got some major reading done. I am so glad to have a Kindle (so far the best survival tool for traveling). When we entered the tunnel through the mountain, we left the clear skies and snow capped peaks of the Himalayas behind. When we came out, we re-entered the smoggy void of the Sichuan basin. I was less than excited to go back, but rejuvenated. Seeing GongGa Shan felt like I was completing something begun when we first got here. It was GongGa that drew Luke’s and my gaze from Emei Shan that morning we watched the sunrise our first week here. Then it was so far away and distant, yet so immense and alluring. And now we had walked around a little of its base and marveled as we stared up, still influenced by its immensity. I can’t wait to go back west and see more of the mountains out there. I read on some blogs that there are treks around the mountain, as well as pack animal treks from KangDing to Moxi……..
Thanks for reading!
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