Jiu Zhai Gou Day 1
This morning began in the worst way imaginable: in a hostel room in Chengdu with a phone call at 4:50 am of someone speaking very fast Sichuan-wah. Luke was a champion and took the call, which was our pickup driver saying that he was almost there to get us. He was supposed to meet us at 5:30, but I guess 4:55 is close enough to Chinese. So we ran out of the hostel and got into a small van that screamed around Chengdu for half an hour, picking up more tour passengers in between running red lights. Coffee can’t wake you up that fast.
Luke got in the car and curled up in a ball. He told me that his midnight bathroom breaks were motivated by the previous day’s lunch of soup pot and a suspected uncooked meat jiaozi. So now were are screaming around Chengdu in the dark with Luke dying in the back seat. Oh no.
Our driver dropped the van full of us off in front of a non-descript hotel that had a street vendor making breakfast omlettes/pancake wraps (a mix of batter and egg thing that was simply and acceptably, food). The bus came, we got on and Luke fell asleep against the window without hesitation, and suddenly people swarmed the bus out of nowhere. Before I knew it we were off. I was looking forward to catching up with Luke in dream land, but was quickly pulled into the pit stop by the tour guide, who proceeded to talk into his microphone at a dizzying speed in Chinese. My few circuits were immediately fried, so I leaned on Luke and began to catch up WHEN HE “HEYHEYHEYHEY’ED” ME FROM FALLING ASLEEP. I was shocked. Apparently both people in a group sleeping at the same time is not allowed at 6:30 am on Chinese tours. I didn’t understand a word he said except when we had to give introductions to the whole bus. By this time I am very grumpy. Luke woke up, thankfully, and gave ours. The guide continued talking as we drove out of Chengdu, and Chengdu is a very big city.
I awoke at our first resting stop, surrounded by mountains already and sunshine. From here on out, I decided I didn’t like our guide. Lots of talking, lots of Boy Scout Camp-enthusiasm-building-call-backs-(in Chinese), and an all around general annoyance. Look Mr. Guide, the enthusiasm: great. Whistling three songs into the microphone felt like my ears were going to pop. It was unbearable. Not letting me sleep when its clearly sleeping time for the foreigner-who-doesn’t-understand-a-word-you-say: bu hao (not good). And yelling at us when we don’t want to pay the extra 180 yuan for a nighttime bonfire and staged Tibetan dinner: pushed me over the edge.
OK, so I didn’t like our guide. But everything else has been wonderful. The scenery is incredible. We drove up into the mountains all day, light snow falling and making everything seem surreal. The mountains were huge, the roads staggering, the tunnels mind-blowing, the rivers running emerald green; it made me realize how happy I was to get back to the mountains. Things of consequence:
1) We made some friends. One is Michael, a Freshman at a school in Sichuan studying Aircraft Traffic Controlling. He sat across the aisle from us and in the course of the day found out that he has some of the best English we’ve heard from a Chinese person. We have been ever thankful for his help and company today. He studied abroad in Australia for 3 months and speaks with an American accent, a product of his multiple foreign teachers in High School. We were shocked to hear he is 19 years old. Mature beyond his years. His last words tonight were “if you need anything, you have my number.” Awesome. And through him we met the other 4 ladies that we got picked up with this morning, all of which helped Luke get medicine tonight at the medical store. It was hilarious to see 4 women crowding around him all shouting what medicine they through he should have and fuss over him.
2) The Tibetan Plateau. After gaining altitude all day, we drove for an hour on the flat, high plains of the mountainous plateau. We drove through traditional looking towns with old stone buildings, with people in colorful robes walking along the streets. Prayer flags overwhelmed the hillsides at times. At times the scenery was very familiar. I would look out across the grassland and see the snow on the golden hillsides and think of Eastern Washington and Oregon, of driving to Joseph from Walla Walla, and I could imagine that’s where I was. But then a golden roofed Chinese building would go by, or we’d pass a group of walkers in colorful robes and I’d remember, we are in China. If I only had one word to describe the scenery out the bus today, it would be authentic.
And on the plateau: the tour guide (my favorite) made it very clear that no one can sleep on the bus when we were above 3,300 m. I didn’t believe him, but when we hit that invisible line, he woke up Luke and everyone else. Michael said its about breathing differently and you could die in your sleep. I remain incredulous.
3) The Tibetan bonfire. There’s more to be said on this subject. Early on, Mr. Guide described the evening in full detail: a cultural experience, food, dancing, etc. YOU SHOULD GO was the bottom line. For 180 yuan (almost half of our tour price, by the way) I wasn’t sold. No way. And so he was upset when we told him no, but he went through the bus and got almost everyone else to buy in. Then he returned to us and talked very loud and fast to Michael, telling him to explain to us to go. “The driver gets 30 yuan from it, it’s a cultural experience, yada yada, but I’m (Michael) not going either. Waste of money.” When we said no again, Mr. Guide was very unhappy and shunned us for the rest of the day. No snowballs at the snowball stop (which was fine by me), just silent treatment. Then as we were approaching the hotel for tonight, he began again, this time only louder, about how the 7 of us who weren’t going were being rude and impolite. They don’t get tipped for the tour, so we should go (why this is important, I am not sure, because he also told us he doesn’t get any money if we go, which makes no sense). And he went on for a long time in this manner. It totally sucked. And then one of the ladies in front of us said that she’d give the driver 30 yuan and not go, but that way the driver got paid. Mr. Guide got in a BIG huff and said “That’s just not how its done,” and end of discussion. A very interesting look into Chinese culture and how these things work, which I still don’t understand. You don’t tip anywhere, but these other things are expected sometimes. Well, its all an adventure.
Tomorrow: the park!
Day 2:
If yesterday had one word, today could only be boiled down to two: magical and cold. Jiu Zhai Gou is Sichuan’s premier tourist destination for a very good reason: it is jaw-droppingly beautiful. And we could not have had a more perfect day in winter to visit. We had a fresh layer of snow when we awoke and the clouds broke in the morning to reveal blue skies and that forgotten friend: the sun. The new snow gave us a great opportunity to see one of China’s cultural differences: with new snow on the road, the park unleashed their army of…… sweepers. When we got on the bus at 9 am, we drove past many, many people sweeping the snow off the roads with their stick brooms. I was awestruck. People are cheaper than machines here.
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| Me trying out one of the brooms they use to sweep the roads. I wouldn't have believed it unless I saw it. |
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| Us and our friend Michael |
Today I had an inspiration for a scientific study that will change the world. After much observation today, I had come to the conclusion that Chinese women have some gene that gives them a greater tolerance of cold temperatures than women elsewhere. Today, as I was shivering in long underwear under pants, wool socks in hiking boots, a fleece jacket under a down jacket, a wool scarf, and a wool cap, all the while stomping my feet to put off the cold, I observed countless Chinese women in tights and leather boots shuffling around, putting on less of a show than me. Some had down jackets on, but others didn’t. And don’t throw out my claim thinking that it wasn’t really that cold, thinking all this time in Sichuan has made me soft, because it hasn’t. No, no, it was cold enough to freeze lakes, ice over the road, crack tree limbs as they swayed, and freeze birds in mid-flight. OK, no the last, but everything before. Today was cold, and yet there were about a hundred and thirty-two Chinese women shuffling around the National Park today in tights, jackets that were too small or too thin, just a shirt under, and above all, looking fashionable. This isn’t just coincidence; let’s get to the bottom of it.
I also spent some time considering the name of Sichuan’s treasure: 九寨沟 (Jiu Zhai Gou). 九(Jiu) means nine. 寨(zhai) means village. 沟 (gou) means valley. So together it means Nine Village Valley, which is undeniably accurate. We passed many traditional Tibetan villages along our travels today and read that their residents are still living traditional lives in them. They were quite beautiful with their colorful prayer flags and tall poles covered in flags all flapping in the wind. As Luke put it today, “If I lived somewhere where its always windy, I’d put up a bunch of flags too.” But 9 Village Valley is a poor name for a place that is filled with so much wonder, mystery, beauty, and wildlife. The waters of the valleys are all shades of greenish-blue. Luke and I decided turquoise was the best word for most of it, but there are patches of aquamarine, azure, and cobalt blue, as well as jade and emerald green mixed in between. And the mountains rise straight up to the sky, mostly covered with trees, save the patches of bare granite that rise imposingly to the clouds. That’s the beauty. Then there’s the mystery: a valley composed of pools and a wide spillway that never becomes a channel. Its as if the beavers finally got their wish, but all the evidence of their tampering has disappeared. And then there is the mystery of the logs in the water that have never begun decomposing, instead choosing to just lie there like preserved specimens waiting to be inspected. Luke ultimately solved the mystery, and for that I am greatly impressed. Mineralization. The presence of some mineral in the water preserves the logs and anything in the water, and it deposits whenever the current speeds up, stopping any flow that begins to channelize. So the entire valley acts like a series of flooding beaver ponds. We discovered that Luke was dead on and the mineral is Travertine. It acts exactly how he expected, but what’s most fascinating is that it deposits on anything that disrupts the current in the water. So instead of the logs being preserved as they are, they are instead being calcified and becoming stone. And the same goes for the rocks that the currents flow over: the mineral deposits on the surface, making the rock thicker, so the current slows over its surface. I’m going to repeat that one in case you missed it: the rock becomes thicker. In essence, the rocks in the valley grow with time as the water flows over them. Its in plain sight as you marvel at the water falls, which oddly have large protrusions at the top, diving boards almost, from where the leading edge is growing outward. And when you look down as you cross the shoals (what they call the wide flowing but very shallow river), you can see where the rock is growing around sticks and logs and tree trunks submerged in the water. With this mystery in mind, I would like to propose a new name for Jiu Zhai Gou: The Valley of Living Rock. How about 生长石沟 (Shengzhang Shi Gou). Needs some tweaking, but I think its more majestic and fitting.
Day Three
The return was a long ordeal. We had to stop at 4 shops for about 45 minutes each, where we were escorted to a classroom and lectured about a product they were trying to sell. There was the traditional Chinese medicine, the bamboo products place, which made everything from washcloths to bras to Chinese sculptures to massage pads, the meat store, and the jewelry store. Everything was ridiculously overpriced and Luke and I escaped without buying more than a 5 yuan washcloth. We left Jiuzhaigou at 7:30 am and arrived in Chengdu at 7 pm, finally making it home around 9. The most interesting thing is that coming back, the sky is totally clear and blue in the mountains. You drive along a clear blue river, zigzagging along the steep mountain valley. Then you go through one tunnel that’s not impressively long, and when you pop out the other end, you abruptly find yourself in the Sichuan basin fog. Dismal, bleak, and dense. Its like someone flipped a switch and boom, fog. Ah, but this time I was glad to see it because it meant we were getting close to home.
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