January 28, 2012,
The epic bus-train-bus ride was indeed epic. In fact, it was epic that evolved into pure living hell. The first bus to Emei Shan was no problem. It flew by like a breeze. In Emei we met a friend who took us to the big Buddhist Temple in the city, where we rushed through the beautiful paintings and temples. Then be boarded the bus at 7 pm, for which we only had standing seats in a hard seat car. We brought stools to sit on and we were comfortable until the food cart made its rounds (which was regularly), in which we would have to get up, cram between people’s legs, and then sit back down. Every 10 minutes. Luckily, we were soon offered a seat on the bench, which became 2 seats, which eventually became 3. And there we were, on the world’s most uncomfortable wooden bench, for the whole night on the train that never turned its lights off. I didn’t sleep very much because whichever way you leaned, be it sideways on a shoulder, forwards onto your knees or on the small table, or backwards, you always woke up 8minutes later uncomfortable and some part of your body asleep and tingling. We survived, got into PanZiHua, and took a bus across town to the bus station, where we got onto another bus to Lijiang. We fell asleep before leaving the city, feeling for the first time that the bus seats were like first class. I awoke in the mountains with the sun high above the horizon and was just soaking in the view when I noticed everyone around me holding their noses and crinkling their faces. Then I smelled it: vomit. I turned around and there were two young kids puking out their guts into the trash can behind me. The road to Lijiang is insanely and Chinese-ly narrow and winding, and the kids were paying for it. So was everyone else for that matter. As soon as that happened, it became pure living hell. So, with windows down, we entered the mountain town of Lijaing, which was an absolutely breathtaking view, but our breaths were already taken away.
We spent the next two nights at a hostel in Old Town called MaMa Naxi’s. It was run by this sweet old Chinese lady who was always wearing a chef hat and a black apron and an old man who totally rocked a tan suit. Mama and Dada. Knowing some Chinese quickly earns you a little extra care and playing time with the kid. Being around foreigners traveling around China who didn’t speak Chinese made me feel really good about what little I can speak. But it was also comforting to just hear English at the dinner table. We walked around Old Town a bunch, which was designed to purposefully keep you lost and wandering. It has an old Chinese town feel and is packed with shops selling plenty of Chinese scarves, clothes, coffee, foods, trinkets, and jewelry. It was really fun to explore and poke around. I would rate it as one of the top places to shop for Chinese things I have been. Mom, dad, and sister bear, you would all love it there.
Lijiang is one of China’s top tourist destinations and despite being very hard to get to, hosts an incredible number of tourists every year. In the summer I have heard its an absolute madhouse. Old Town has held on to its unique feel of small, undisturbed Chinese town feel. If you only stayed there the entire visit, I think you could completely overlook the fact that Lijiang is booming. From our arrival, it was clear that there is a vast amount of money coming into the city. Multiple expressways are under construction and they are of Chengdu-Shanghai scale. The main roads are freshly paved three lane streets with new light posts dotting the sides. And surrounding the Old Town are high rise hotels, some still under construction. Lijiang is a perfect example of loving a place too much. It is slowly being ruined by popularity. I am glad we got to visit before the expressway was finished.
We spent our second day with rental bikes exploring the north of the city. The weather has been absolutely perfect and so it was in a T shirt that I biked along the streets. Jade Dragon Snow Mountain towers over the valley to the North at 19,000 feet, capped with a crown of glaciers, rock cliffs, and snow fields. It is a beautiful sight. We biked along a reservoir of sapphire blue, biked through old village streets and fields, looked at some great Chinese architecture, and met some great dogs. Despite the downtown growing rapidly, the outskirts maintain their old Chinese lifestyle and it was great just to get a glimpse of it. And by the way, old Chinese people are the absolute cutest old people out there. When I am 85, I want to retire to a Chinese village.
We spent the last night at the hostel talking with foreigners around a campfire. Met someone who had gone to high school with Lindsay’s best friend and house mate at Whitman, Sara Wolf, as well as Ben Hayes. Out here in western China, it is still a small world.
And that brings us to today. We got up early and took a cascade of cars to Tiger Leaping Gorge, 3 hours North West of Lijiang. We got dropped off at the side of the road and began the two day hike along the gorge. We are still blessed with perfect weather and we forgot that it is still in fact winter as we hiked along in T shirts and rolled up pants. From the beginning, we were followed by people on horses, just waiting for the foreigners to break and hire them to either take their bags up or pay for a ride. We were prime targets because we did not think it through to leave most of our gear in Lijiang, and so we are the only people with full-sized overnight packs on this trail. Great for training, bad news for losing the eternally chasing mule with his chiming bell. The trail was filled with switchbacks leading up through the scrub-steppe, which reminded me of New Mexico. The vegetation around me felt very comforting, like it was the same southwest of the US, just a different mountain range. Which is weird, because we are halfway around the globe. Little differences caught my eye, however, like the pine tree with needles in clusters of three that were about a foot long, and the Iron Wood looking tree that had just too many leaves on its compound leaves. Luke remarked the same when we entered the shady side of the trail and entered the taller pine forest: “this feels like home.”
January 30th, 2012
With Tiger Leaping Gorge behind us, I realize that it was my favorite place in China that I’ve been so far. Despite being so famous and probably visited, the high trail hike that we did felt intimate. The fact that we hiked it during the off season helped, I am sure, and meant that most of the stands along the trail were empty. And we only met a few people on the trail, but enough to fill the Tea Horse Guest House’s kitchen the night we stayed there. You hike through rice/wheat/corn terraces as you zig-zag along the gorge face, the houses and small villages still living a very traditional life with chickens running around the houses, goats grazing the hillsides, and woodpiles adorning the walls. I won’t be overly poetic: there are still roads leading to all the villages, but modernity’s impact is softer out there. The snow mountains kept an ever watchful eye on us form the heavens above, marking the top of a gorge that is argued to be the deepest in the world. Its immensity keeps you staring, always trying to trip you as you stare awestruck. Along the trail we met a few old ladies (China’s definition of old, maybe in their 70’s or 80’s) manning stations along the trail. One was making you pay 3 yuan to take a photo at an overlook and the other was just selling food and beverages on the trail, and the thought of her walking that stuff up the steep trail was very impressive (she also had only two teeth, but that wouldn’t hinder someone from hiking). They were incredibly cute and impressive (no better retirement I can think of), but what killed me was that these women pulled you in and showed you bags of what I took to be Oregano and said “marijuana, ganja, you want, ni yao ma? (do you want?)”. The sheer ridiculousness of this moment will stay with me for a long time—how these women whose Chinese is almost unintelligible have four English words at their disposal: marijuana, ganja, and you what. And in a country where people disappear for trying to buy pot on the street put it over the top. Supply follows demand, I guess, and Tiger Leaping Gorge does draw its groovy crowd.
We over-nighted at the Tea Horse Guest House, which was incredibly cozy. The best part was cheesy potatoes for breakfast. The stars were incredible that night, equaled only to Emei Shan in China. Everyone at the GH went out to star gaze. Staring up at stars numerous as those reminds us how small we are, a lesson in both humility and inspiration to dream big. I think people are worse for it if they never escape the cities to see stars like that. Our second day was just as sunny but a fierce wind picked up, blowing off my sparkly hat (birthday present from Luke and laughing point for everyone on the trail) multiple times. We hiked under waterfalls, across cliffs, and saw many things worth seeing. Words fail a place like that. We reached the end of the trail, left our gear at Tina’s Guest House, and hiked to the Yangze River, some 800 feet down or so. And just like everything in China, we had to pay to go down, but not that much. The trail was absolutely staggering—steps carved into the cliff face, ladders going down cliffs, and so many switchbacks. One of the trails (there are three) even was chiseled onto the cliff over the river. Crazy. From above, on the high trail, the river looked imposing. It has been run before on a rafting expedition in the 80’s, but that was with a dog in a ‘zorb’ looking sphere of rubber bobbing down the “un-runable” class 6 whitewater. From above, it looked scary, but not so bad. From the bank, it was terrifying. Here is a point where the upper stretch of the Yangze narrows to a gap of about 25 feet and is in a hurry to get through it. The cycling, crashing waves would erupt over 10 feet high in an explosion of frothy anger. Luke and I sat on a rock, doing the kayaker stare, one where you can see the gears whirring, “now if I went there, I could…..” The more I looked at it, the more I despaired that it was impossible. The more Luke looked at it, the more he believed it was. “Ride the jet,” was his answer, planning to aim for the wall of spray where the most water is going through and hope to get pushed put with the aid of inertia. I’ll watch Luke, nervously. Looking around the internet now, I still can’t find if anyone has ever gone down it in a kayak. Claim to fame Luke Sanford…….
That was yesterday. Today we rode a bus up and over the mountains to Shangri-La. The bus ride was impressive—even up a small tributary of the Yangze, it was heavily dammed and controlled. The air that rushed in the opened windows for photos smelled of pine trees and fresh air, and indeed we left any clouds near the canyon. Fresh air was welcome after the mom held her year old baby over the trash can to pee (diapers are for the rich in China) and had good aim, but his target was faulty, it leaked. And so we arrived in Shangri-La, an impressively remote corner of China, with baby pee running loose on the floor.
This place is boasted as being at the junction of Tibet, Sichuan, and Yunan, and it is deserving of such a claim. The signs for businesses are in three languages: Tibetan, Mandarin, and English. People all around the city can be spotted in traditional Tibetan colors of neon pink, black, vivid orange, red of the rose, and sparkles. I have quickly realized that in a place as cold in the winter as it is now, any warmth is welcome, including warmth on the eyes. We are staying in an old Tibetan home renovated into a hostel in the outskirts of Old Town, with a fire place in the main room where I am sitting close and listening to Tibetan music. We walked around town for the afternoon while Xiao Min napped and fought her cold that has been following her. Listening to conversations around us, I realized that I was not understanding a word of some. And was further surprised when at lunch, one of the waitresses didn’t understand a word of Xiao Min’s Mandarin. I realized we are truly at an edge, and it feels like the edge of China.
With this feeling of foreignness in mind, we found a Chongqing restaurant to eat dinner in. First off, accents and dialects have driven me crazy because I can’t hear the difference. But tonight, I head the waitress say a Sichuan phrase that I know, “Yao De,” and a wave of comfort rushed over me. She’s Sichuan! I thought. But no, Xiao Min informed me, she’s Chongqing, but that’s close enough for me. Today was the first time I recognized a dialect, and I am proud of it. And then we ate Sichuan style food, which I didn’t realize I missed until the first bite hit my mouth. I am becoming accustomed! Did the food ever taste good.
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