Blog Update: I will be in Hibernation for a while

So yes, I've still got June 11,12, and 13th to write about-----I know you can't wait to hear about my sleeper bus experience and about my love for Hong Kong milk tea...

However, since I've been in the Philippines (since June 13), so much has happened in terms of personal growth and knowledge about the country, about Filipinos, and especially about my family (uncovering stories and lessons). So the past few weeks, I've been all around Southwest Luzon and in the last week, all over metro Manila and in Makati. I can't express the gratitude I have nor the excitement for what's next to come.

*****I'm beginning to find alot of purpose and meaning, but I'm still processing it all***

Tonight is my last night in Makati, and then I will be departing for Antipolo (Rizal province) to stay with my host family and start my work with my nongovernmental placement....

So what does this mean?

It means that for now, it may be the last form of communication (depending on the internet/computer situtation and work schedule). If I do not post for a while, then I will definitely do it sometime in the end of August/beginning of September. I will update everyone then (so sorry!).

But for now, I bid you adieu until the next entry (again, to finish up on the China experience and then to write a bit more on the Philippines).

Love and miss everyone----

Saturday Thoughts of Yangshou

Some of you have commented on my titles. So, I’ve decided to make my subtitles just as interesting. I have divided this entry into three sub-sections:

1. How “Frodo-the-Friendly” could not evade the Old Chinese Lady
2. Our Light show experience: a prelude to Olympics 2008?
3. " God Save the Queen” and the DJ that played Dr. Dre

If you think they are interesting subjects, read on.

How “Frodo-The-Friendly” could not evade the Old Chinese Lady

Today, we rented some bikes and took a Saturday afternoon bike ride towards Moon Hill, a traveler’s attraction here in Yangshou. The bike ride was about 45 minutes towards the hill, and we passed by the same type of tall skinny “hills” that looked like large mounds. They are everywhere and its shape is very surreal. It is a beautiful sight to see and take photos. Along our ride, we also saw parts of the Li River, where you can watch the bamboo river tours take place. We were hoping to get off the beaten path and take a more rugged biker’s route, however we may have missed the route entrance because before we knew it, we finally arrived at the foot of the mountain, where we parked our rented bikes outside. The sun was at full blast today, but we were prepared to go on our hike up the hill.

Almost immediately a swarm of Chinese women approached us—their english was pretty good and they seemed friendly. But we soon realized that they were there to sell expensive food and juice. We kindly declined, but one of the women stuck by us, asking “how about a little later? Later on?” She kept following us into the Moon Hill park entrance and suddenly I understood what was happening. The group of women were there to sell their goods, and each woman was “assigned” to a given group of tourists seeking to climb the hill. Could the hill be so bad that tourists would be forced to buy a cold sprite or mango juice? It was a total business. However, we declined and continued on.

With our assigned “drink lady” at our tails, we hiked a long set of stairs, passing by some Norwegians (who also had their “assigned lady”). We had to stop every 5 or 10 minutes to rest, and when we turned around, our drink lady was still there! At one of the stops, as we were trying to politely decline the offers, two Irish guys were trying to run up some stairs. In fact, they were trying to run away because they were being chased by another drink lady, who wanted to sell them a drink as well! One of them (who looked like Frodo from Lord of the Rings) said “cheers” to us and kept on. I started to giggle at the scene as these robust women followed them. Soon, all of us, including Frodo-the-Friendly, started laughing at the whole scene and he sarcastically asked if there was an elevator around.

We finally made it to one part of the “hump” of the mountain top and there we took photos (again with our drink lady waiting for us). Then it was on to a 10 minute uphill climb on a muddy trail to reach the top of Moon Hill, which we made. As we hiked up, we saw Frodo-the-Friendly and friend make their descent down. All this time, the drink lady was behind. We stood at the top of Moon Hill, realizing our amazing feat. We were sweaty, tired, mosquito-bitten, and now hungry. Our calves had gotten their work out for the day and now it was time to return back. Admittedly, the drink ladies added an extra workout challenge since we wanted to evade them. It was another 30 minutes down the hill and a hop back on our bikes. But, in the end, I would consider the hike on Moon Hill great and it amazes me that those drink ladies do this the whole day—hiking up the hill and back. They must be in good shape and they could possibly be amazing athletes. Before we left, our drink lady showed us a book where tourists signed. It included some foreign coins. I pulled out a US quarter and gave it to her and she taped it next to the other foreign coins in her book.

As we left, we saw a bunch of shirtless Australians, apparent expert hikers (without shirts for all you ladies) running up the hill. But they were doing it not to evade their drink lady, but to get a good work out. Their drink lady, huffing and puffing, was still attempting to follow them. Amazing.

Later that night in our hostel, I commented to my traveling mates about Frodo-the-Friendly and his interaction with the drink ladies. We turned around to head down the stairs to see a light show that evening and lo and behold, Frodo-the-Friendly was heading up the stairs and he squeezed in a “hi” to us. In fact, I learned that they were a couple of rooms down from us. Crap, I hope he didn’t hear my nickname for him! But, my advice (and lesson) to him from earlier in the hike would be: The only way to evade an old Chinese “drink lady” is to act like a shirtless Australian and run the hell up that hill.

Evening Light Show experience: a prelude to Olympics 2008?

That evening, the three of us had dinner and then paid for the town’s 7:30 PM light show, which was directed and by a famous Chinese choreographer (who contributed to “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” and “Hero”, I believe). We met some Americans along the way, who had been teaching English in China for the last year. It turned out we were all sitting next to each other in an outdoor Greek-style theatre, which faced a still lake. The amazing large green hills were in the background and we sat in an anxious state of darkness until the program began.

Then, in the next hour or so, we saw Chinese actors on bamboo rafts move to the music beats between white spotlights. Actors were dressed in local Chinese garb and they held torches to light certain romantic scenes. Near the end, a large lighted floating moon skimmed the water and lines of Chinese actors donned lighted costumes, moving to the flowing choreography.

In the end, the show was worth watching, and I could only think about what will be in store for the world when Beijing hosts the opening Olympics ceremony ---centuries of cultural dances and music mixed in with modern lighting and perfected acrobatics. Romantic slow beats and operatic singing mixed in with fast drums and skilled footwork. It would definitely rock.

“God Save the Queen” and the DJ that played Dr. Dre

Okay, last story for the evening. Fast forward to our return to the main street, where on a Saturday night, people were out and about. So there we were, exhausted but sitting at a local bar. We were very satisfied from a great hike earlier in the day and a light show in the evening. All we wanted to do was watch a World Cup game and perhaps party it up a bit! We dropped by a bar that had people glued to the screen as England just scored a goal against its opponent. We sat and ordered some drinks and I also ordered some banana crepes—random food, I know. While we watched, one of the Chinese waitresses showed us (or reminded us) how to play Chinese checkers.

Suddenly, victory by England! Within seconds, the bar owner played the English national anthem on the speakers! Four men stood up (one on his chair) and started singing to it. It was funny. The song ended, and as they turned to leave, we realized, it was the same Australians that hiked up Moon Hill! This time, they had their shirts.

We smiled as we left the bar for a couple of other bars that played hip-hop music. We found an amazing DJ, who didn’t have any Justin Timberlake songs, but he sure knew Common, Dr. Dre and Snoop Dog. And so, we danced the night away among the locals and tourists as we danced and rapped out loud to “California Love”. The bar locals probably thought we were funny Asian girls as we chanted, “L.A, where you at?!” but guess what? We attracted a crowd and before we knew it, the semi-filled dance floor became full. Yeah, that’s what happens when you’re with us. Peace out until the next episode (or entry!!).

The Fellowship breaks, but the journey continues towards Guilin and Yangshou

It was 6:35 AM and we heard a knock on the door—it was Reyna. Yikes! Our alarm clock did not wake us up, so Arlene and I had to quickly get our backpacks and bags read. Our taxi was meeting us in 10 minutes. It was our last day and final day in Yunnan and we had a full schedule of traveling today.

The final four was going to become the final three. Nancy plans would take her to Taiwan before returning to the states. The rest of us would stay together until the 12th or 13th of June. Then, my next stop would be the Philippines.

But that was still a couple of days away, and today, we had to catch our morning flight from Lijiang to Kunming and then take a bus from Kunming to Guilin. The plan was not to stay in Guilin but to take another bus to nearby Yangshou. Only an hour away from Guilin, Yangshou is backpacker friendly and has a lot of shopping and hiking opportunities. I realized that we were doing a lot of transportation transferring today!

At the airport, Reyna, Arlene and I played some a Filipino card game called “Posoy Dos” before boarding our flight. Once it was time to board, we couldn’t take off. A fight started to brew a couple of seats from us. Apparently, the flight had overbooked their seats and a Chinese couple had become very angry with the airline stewardess. People joined in on the ruckus (mind you, it’s all in Chinese), with some people blaming the airline and others motioning for the Chinese couple to get off. The head stewardess started approaching people, asking them if they would give up their seats, but more people grew angry because of the delay in flight. Finally, after 20 minutes, three fashionably young Chinese women got fed up and took their Burberry decorated bags from the overhead compartment. It appeared that they decided they would take the compensation for giving up their seat. Or perhaps they were fed up with the whole debacle. Suddenly, the whole plane filled with clapping in admiration for their actions, and before we knew it, we were up in the air. Again, this whole scene was in Chinese, but it was the conclusion that we three Asian-Americans ended up with as we witnessed the whole thing. We even understood some of the Chinese words used! (Side note: After being in the country for two weeks, you do pick up Chinese because you are forced to speak it in areas that do not speak English. It definitely builds confidence and challenges you to be involved in your traveling).

There is a definitely change of scenery you get as you head towards south Asia. From the plane, we made two bus transfers. As we rode and transferred to our bus towards Yangshou, I realized that there was a lot of beauty in the green lands that contrast an overcast rainy sky. You also see the most interesting type of mountains—they look like giant mole hills covered with forests and rocks. However, you cannot ignore the humidity. It is everywhere. It also begins to look less like the rural and open spaces of Yunnan. Instead, there are noisy buses, and you can definitely see the mixture of both the poor and working class. You can also see different types of faces, which have a more of a south-east Asian mix. There are streets lined with every day shops and restaurants, as mass transportation combines with every day life.

In the humidity, we finally arrived in Yangshou, after a full day of traveling with heavy backpacks. As soon as we fought our way through a crowd of Chinese that wanted to advertise housing (we were obvious with our large backpacks), we were immediately approached by a Hostel owner on a motorcycle. He was advertising his hostel. However, we already had one in mind, which would place us in the middle of Xi Jie street and in the middle of shops, restaurants, bars, and internet cafes (yes!). But where was it? Looking around an intersection, we spotted two white tourists and asked for directions. In no time, we found ourselves at our hostel, in the lively street of Xi Jie. There were a ton of cute shops (I know I mention this a lot) and restaurants—many of them advertising “western food” to cater to tourists. But it didn’t have the negative feeling of tourism-instead it just felt, very “alive” and bustling.

Another bonus was that many of the restaurants hosted World Cup viewing nights with drink specials. I remember as we were walking around the main street, we looked around and then at each other: it was time to have some more fun!

But not until tomorrow since we were tired. Tomorrow, we make the most of our day and a half in the streets of Yangshou.

My Free Day and some old and random Musings

6/8/06: Today, as a group we decided to just take it easy because we’ve been traveling around and touring full-time every day for the last week. I’m glad we did it, because it helped us recuperate and hang out in our last day traveling as a group. Tomorrow, we would be leaving Yunnan, some of us making our way towards Hong Kong, others leaving for other cities. So, I’m using this entry to include any tidbits I forgot to mention, including a brief description about another person we met in Shangri-La a few days ago, Mr. Abu Wandui.

I bring with me a list of travel writing tips that I printed from some online site before I left the states. I find the list useful and look at it every now and then whenever I need some writing inspiration or to remind me what to look out for when I’m journaling. One tip was: “Work in quotes from visitors…or the participants of a particular activity, and let them express their thoughts about how they feel about a place or activity.”

Another tip was, “Get involved in scenes as you travel.” A good reminder about why you’re there in the first place.

When we were in Shangri-La, we happened to come across an outside brown gate for an old house that had some newspaper articles posted in both Chinese and English. As we were reading about the history of the house, an old Tibetan man, who introduced himself as Mr. Abu Wandui, came out and started talking with us. Nancy identified herself as Taiwanese and instantly, he invited us into his home to talk about his life when he was imprisoned, during the Cultural Revolution and the house.

Mr. Abu Wandui took us to a dark room, and turned on his flashlight; as he pointed to certain parts of the wall, the light would reveal inscriptions or faces of Chinese rulers. He would continue talking about the age and history of the house and its history through various dynasties. He also pointed to a traditional Buddhist shrine. There were many currencies from other countries at the foot of the shrine. He handed us an information sheet and talked about the attempts to preserve his home. After he talked, we took some pictures with him and we gave a small donation, which he placed alongside the US currencies. We left, unsure what to believe, but also pondering how much the Cultural Revolution affected these communities. If at all, it was an interesting encounter, exchange, and visit to an old house in Shangri-La.

That evening, I watched a Chinese soap opera that had a white foreigner in it. Throughout the trip I would watch different shows, including some soap operas, previews of Chinese Idol (American Idol spin off), game shows, and/or the news. So here I was, now enthralled with this particular sh0w because it had one was British, and the other---had to be American. When they spoke Chinese—it was good, real good. Their acting, on the other hand, was bad, real bad. In fact, I pictured in my head, that maybe this American dude was a theatre major in some east coast Ivy league school but wasn’t good (looking) enough to walk the Hollywood red carpet. During college, he probably won a prestigious summer scholarship in China to probably study Chinese acrobatic theatre. Then, during the course of his studies, he probably found a theatre niche in the country and realized he could be idolized in entertainment. So, he learned Chinese, moved his residency to Shanghai and now—viola, he’s pursued his life long dream of acting, albeit on the other side of the world.

See what a day off can do? Haha just kidding.

Google Me: How We Found Dr. Ho, a world-renowned herb specialist

There are many “must sees” in China that I have previously mentioned, but now I want to tell you how we met Dr. Ho, an herb specialist who became famous by a foreign travel writer many years ago. In fact, if you open many of the guide books on China, you will see Dr. Ho’s biography and clinic listed in the Lijiang section.

Here’s our story.

That morning, we rented bikes in old town Lijiang, which is a must for anyone visiting. We planned to take a bike ride in Lijiang’s country side (towards Yulong Snow Mountain) and stop by some temples on the way back. The phrase, “It’s like riding a bike” could not have been more appropriate since the last time I rode one was in 8th or 9th grade of high school. But I had to put all my trust in that truism. As the girls outfitted their bikes, I hoped on mine—at first wobbly—a bit rusty—and then, success! I secured my small messenger bag on me, folded our route map, checked my water supply, and applied my sunscreen. Then we were off from Old Town Lijiang, through New Town, and towards the mountains.

I probably can’t describe the intense feeling of freedom and awe as you take the path (both paved and unpaved). You bike along acres of farmland, and it is inevitable not to stop along the way to take photos of the landscape. The road takes you out of city life to bluer skies, mothers knitting alongside their babies and cows grazing. It even rained for a few minutes, but afterwards, we saw a rainbow that stretched far into the mountains.

Each of us would ride like bikers on the Tour De France, taking the lead over the group at various points during our ride. However, two hours into the ride, we were hitting some major uphill climbing. Steep. And after we stopped to ask some local security guards how far we had to go to our major destination, the Yuteng Temple, they told us it would be uphill for 3 kilometers.

Hmmm.

As a group, we decided to turn around and visit another temple that we passed, since it was late afternoon and we needed to eat dinner and return before it got dark. I knew I had gotten a good two-hour workout in, and it would be another two hour workout on the way back.

We visited a temple that housed the “Baisha Frescoes of Lijiang”. The frescoes were painted during the Ming Dynasty and damaged from the Cultural Revolution. You see a lot of black, red, yellow colors and I even noticed that some of the drawings of people depicted halos on their heads. A quick copy/paste from my ticket stub gives more information about the Frescoes, “The Baisha Frescoes are a very important historic and cultural research resource for the Naxi culture. The State Council listed it as the national preserved cultural relics...in 1997”

Also, here is one more interesting piece of information which Nancy told us. A very common Naxi last name is “mu” which, in Chinese, means“wood”. The reason Lijiang, which houses a lot of Naxi people, does not have walls around its city is because the Chinese character for “wood” can easily mean “trapped” (kun) if a box is written around the character for wood. Hence, Lijiang does not have walls boxing in the city.

Okay at this point, you’re probably saying, “Bring out Dr. Ho!” Well, I’m getting there! We finished visiting the temple and started exiting out, only to meet more touristy vendors. During that walk, Arlene noticed a clinic for a “Dr. Ho”. We entered this small white clinic, and the first thing you notice are hanging newspaper articles, business cards, and letters—all encased in sheet protectors. There were two backpacking tourists already there in a side room, talking to a Chinese guy. The floor was a bit dusty, but it had the look of a clinic: white floors and walls, and counter space. No one appeared in this main room.

We walked a bit further and looked around the room, curious at all the paperwork hanging from the ceiling and on the walls. I even saw some prescription sheets scattered along the countertops. I peered into what looked like a doorway to a backyard, and there he was, strolling through some of the tall herbs in the garden. In a crumpled white doctor’s overcoat, he bent over slightly to touch a leaf and hold it close to his nose. He had dark skin and had silver hair and I think a slight gray wiry goatee. Behind him, two women were tending to the garden.

And then, he realized that four Asian girls were staring at him through the doorway and suddenly he stood up, “welcome, welcome to my clinic!”

Instantly, a woman brought four cups of herbal tea for us, which tasted like licorice. Whenever one of us finished a cup, she would instantly appear again, for a refill.

Dr. Ho asked if we were tourists and we told him we were from the states. Even before we could ask, we started with the story that made him famous, when a foreign travel writer wrote about him in a book. He talked about his herbs, and about the people he’s met from all over the world to visit the clinic and even get some samples of herbs for their ailments. He pointed to batch of letters that asked Dr. Ho to send them herb medicine and to thank him for healing them.

Arlene made the bold move and mentioned her mother’s sore knee. In a flash, he took us into a room with shelves that were lined with red baskets. Each basket contained a pile of grounded herbs. Dr. Ho disappeared into the back and came out with a large piece of brown paper. He started going through the shelves and expertly grabbed handfuls of certain herbs and mixed it on the brown paper. He pulled out a sheet of instructions for Arlene and told her that the mixture would need to be put externally on the outside (not to be taken orally) on the knee for a couple of months. He then folded the brown paper and sealed it with a traditional Chinese stamp and his name (so airport customs would know what the powder was for).

After talking more with him, we thanked Dr. Ho with a small donation and took some photos of him. He told us that if we needed anything, including more herbs, to contact him. He told us, “Just Google me.”

Wow. It has become more than a noun-turned-verb. “Google me” is now used by an old Chinese doctor, in the rural outskirts of south west China. Dr. Ho probably said it best when he also told us: “The world is getting smaller now (as he referred to the information superhighway). So, just Google me”

I was a bit taken a back, eyebrows raised but smiled at the realization that Google is just the beginning of the pervasive nature of the internet and its ability to not just provide information but now connect the Chinese with the rest of the world, with implications being watched by the rest of the international community.

It was that type of conversation that I had on the bike ride back, which was nice and breezy and with most of the way downhill. I talked with Nancy a little bit more about the politics in China and about democracy, and student movements, education, and even a little on religious freedom. At what expense do you censor your population, for industrial development and unity? Or, is it needed in order to economically develop and hence, giving up some liberties is necessary to build your country? At what point after you reach those economic goals does transparency and respect for liberties occur? Is it encouraged or is it simply caused by the forces contributing to the liberalization of an economy? Ignorant voting population vs. informed populace. Did our own founding forefathers really trust the popular vote?

China is rapidly changing and I remember some good advice from a friend of mine who said, don’t pay for more than $0.50 (US dollars) in China. After China’s inclusion in the WTO, I’d say, don’t pay more than $4 or $5 (in US dollars) in China. But, I guess it depends on what you’re buying, and how well you bargain!

Well, I’ll leave you with those thoughts to ponder. As we returned to Old Town, tired, and immensely hungry, we turned in our bikes for headed for some good food at a local Naxi restaurant back. A few of us used the internet and “SKYPED” (a way to call free via the internet) and then finally, it was off to go to bed. We decided that tomorrow we would take it easy and lounge around. So, for now, it’s good night and until the next entry!

Monks, Horses, and Shopping—Oh My! (Shangri-La, Day 2)

June 6: It is our last morning and afternoon In Shangri-La, and we did two activities today: visit a Tibetan monastery and ride horses!

The morning started off with food at the cafe next to our hostel. Breakfast consisted of yogurt, granola cereal and fruit (I think the meal is described as musuli). Something a bit less exotic, but packed with enough carbs and vitamins to get our day started.

Our Monastery Experience

The first part of our day was a visit to a Tibetan monastery, which was adorned in gold and deep red roofs. You can see the temple as you drive towards it. A part of the monastery had been destroyed during the Cultural Revolution, so parts of the building looked new because it had been restored. I didn’t pull out my travel journal as much as I wanted to during this visit because I was too caught up in the activities we saw, but I scribbled notes down on my entrance ticket anyway.

Once you enter the monastery site, you must climb a long set of stairs to reach the temple. Here you see a mix of tourists and locals finding their way up.

I noticed two American girls standing at the top of the stairs taking photos. A local old Chinese man, who had been approaching people for money, approached them with a cup, asking for some money. One of the girls asked the man in english (slowly and pronouncing each syllable): “Is thissssss… a donationnnn, are you going to blessssss me?” The man just shook the cup feverishly. The girl responded, “ok—a—y, this is for my blessinggggg.” She gave him a couple of coins in the cup and then he suddenly turned around and walked away. She stood there dumbfounded, scratching her blonde locks, and figuring out if she was really blessed or if she had just given money to some poor guy.

Moving on…. at the top of the stairs, you enter the Monetary clockwise through the side rooms. There, you can buy bracelets that have been blessed. We spoke with some monks and I even bought a small necklace with several colorful beads laced on a black string. At the end of the string was a small silver moon shape with six engraved symbols that represented Buddhist principles.

It was time to visit the temple. “Entering the temple must be done through the side” a local woman told tourists. Only Buddha can enter through the front. Hence the front entrance was draped in red cloth, with tourists standing behind it since they were not allowed to cross into the temple from that direction. No photos or videos were allowed and so instead, we peered in from behind the red cloth. In the Temple was rows and rows of sitting monks, young and old, with red clothing wrapped around their tanned skin. There must have been more than 200 monks sitting in this dim room, with one half of the room sitting to face the other half.

Suddenly, the drum beats started.

Two rows of monks picked up their instruments and started to play to the rhythm of a single loud drumbeat, which would be hit once every couple of seconds. The slow, but progressively loud sounds would repeat. Local and visiting Buddhists would walk from right-to-left, pausing at certain aisles with hands in prayer. They raised these clasped hands to their head, mouth and then heart—some bowing down to the ground. We entered the temple from the side and sat among the locals, observing in the dim, full room of monks and drumbeats. It was mezmorzing. It is easy to walk with the local crowd, which stopped at certain aisles to bow to the ground—and before you know it, you can accidentally find yourself getting caught up with them. You may also bump into an elderly and most-respected Monk walking around the room, especially the one with silver-lined hair and sculpted arms.

I was wearing black pants that day and as I stood up from observing the procession, my knees were covered in red dust, which I am sure will be seen in my pictures. But, my dusty red knees became a personal reminder of my trip to the Monastery, from the red lining of the roofs to the red robes of the monks.

Speaking of monks…..

The girls and I soon exited the moving scene that was taking place in the temple and we sought to explore more of the monastery property. We spotted a sign for one of the nearby rooms that said, “No video, no photos, no women allowed in this room”. Um, yeah. We were planning to skip that room anyway.

We found another part of the monastery that housed a large Buddha. We also saw monks carrying baskets, helping with building construction, talking with other fellow monks. We even saw monks with Air Jordan’s and a cell phone running away from us and laughing. The monks were all fairly young boys---all sent here by their parents. But, as I soon found out, at a certain age they can make a decision to stay with the monastery or leave it to raise a family.

All four of us climbed a set of small stairs leading into a small open space terrace. We saw four young monks--probably from 15-24 years of age taking photographs with some visiting Japanese tourists. Since all of us brought cameras, we thought it would be a perfect way to capture our trip here by taking a photograph with the monks. Nancy, in Chinese, asked them if we could get a photo with them.

After talking to each other, they slowly agreed, and we took some snap shots on one of our cameras since we decided it would be best to just post the pictures online or send it to each other. We showed the monks how the photo turned out on the LCD screen and they smiled and laughed, moreso at how they looked, rather than how we looked. Soon, they were asking us to print out the photo and send it to them at the monastery. Pulling out our trusty entrance ticket, we pointed to the address (which was in Chinese), but the boys could not read it so they just pointed to the picture and asked us to send it anyways. They continued smiling and even taunting each other. In the end, I realized that these young monks are like any other boy their age: they want to have fun enjoying life, laughing and playing around.

And, as soon as more tourists saw us and realized they could possibly take pictures with the monks, a few of the monks again ran away inside the room, acting shy and laughing.

I guess a life of celibacy can turn celebrity when four traveling girls ask to be in a picture with you.

Horses that understand Tibetan commands

Soon, it was off to horseback riding—which I last did when I was 10 or 11 with the girlscouts. Back then, I had rode an old gray mare. Okay folks, we’re talking about an old horse that probably had cataracts and pranced with an arthritic limp, riding in small circles, at arms length from a trainer. How much more safe can you get?

But I tossed my nervousness aside and got on a horse. The groups were put in two, so Nancy and Reyna’s horses and trainer were clear on their way towards the far grassy knoll ahead. The large plain was full of horses munching on grass, probably on their off-shift hours. The sky was an enternal blue, and in the background, you can see the mountains. Arlene and I were assigned a trainer, and I hopped on my horse. It was a beautiful animal, and the hide and mane was thick, probably to keep warm during cold nights. The legs were also a bit shorter. I got on the saddle and the horse started to prance around, nudging other horses. In the next few minutes, the trainer was leading Arlene and I, on our horses, towards Nancy and Reyna--- and towards the large grassy knoll. He sang a tune the whole time and when Arlene would take a photo, saying “1…2…..3” in English, he would stop his tunes to practice saying his english numbers as well.

Our trainer would also mouth off words in his dialect and the horses would respond by either picking up its pace, slowing down, or stopping. It was pretty neat.

During our easy ride, I also had some “what-if” thoughts: “What if my horse is schizophrenic or gets pissed off and started to run away from the trainer? What if another grazing horse decided to pick a fight with my horse? What would happen if it suddenly wanted to practice jumping?”

Oh, those fleeting thoughts.

We got to the knoll where we stopped the horses. The temporary stop gave us a chance to take photos. As soon as the trainer let go of the reigns, Arlene’s brown-orange horse very gently walked towards my horse (whom I quickly named Shangri-La--yes how original). At first I thought, if I get bit by a horse, that’s it! I didn’t get my rabies shot, and I’d probably be foaming at the mouth in a couple of hours…. But then, ever so gently, the horse nudged my knee in affection (or seeking affection ) just like a cat caresses a leg and purrs. Now in addition to the red dust on my knee, I had an official affectionate horse nudge. (Your cue, readers: awwwwwww…)

The last part to this trip was a chance to hold a baby lamb—we’re talking about the cutest lamb in the world. So white, so small, so pure and quiet—it was an extra 5 Y I think. Another way to make(or as tourists, spend) some money, but still, you can be photographed with a cute little lamb and perhaps make the whole Friendster/My Space community scream “awwwww” when they see it posted.

But not me. I just wanted to look from afar this one time (any other time I would have). Again, I had visions of the lamb suddenly become full of rage, its red eyes blistering out from its tiny sockets, and suddenly deciding that it had enough of being used as a photo prop when it could be grazing with normal lambs (ah, those child stars). Then it would go postal on me—And then what? I’d be foaming at the mouth again in a couple of hours and kick myself for not getting those rabies shots. In the end, it probably wouldn’t have done that anyways, it was too cute!!!! But oh well, another time. C’est la vie.

Shopping and a Return to Lijiang

Here are the last couple of liners non-shocker for the evening—we drove back to Lijiang, napping most of the way. Good tip: Again, it helps to hire a driver because they know all the spots to visit. Anyways, we ended up back in Lijiang, with memories of Shangri-La dancing in our heads. But, like every (or every other day), we woke up to eat and then shop, shop, shop. That’s all folks.

Tomorrow: Our attempt to go on a four-hour bike ride in the countryside of Lijiang to visit temples. It should be a fun read. Bear with me folks, I’m still posting, since I have written records all the way until 7/13 and it only gets more fun and interesting. So keep checking daily!

The Gorge-ous nature of Shangri-La and Stopping Short of Tibet.

Note: A long entry because of how productive our traveling was today and I have included more thoughts about traveling. Anyways, I hope you are on your watercooler break! Don’t worry, I titled sections for you, as a break for your curious eyes.

The Road to Shangri-La

6/5/06: This morning, I woke up to U-2 on MTV’s Asia: “…I still haven’t found….what I’m looking for…” How apropos. Will he every find what he’s looking for? Will we? Will I? Ah, life.

After a quick breakfast, it was onward to Shagri-La (Zhongdian). During the drive, our hired driver popped in some Naxi music into the cassette player. Suddenly, my view of the blue skies and Naxi farmland transcended post-card perfect. It became the Naxi version of Brave heart cinematography. I thought of future movie producers, scooping the earth for perfect scenes to shoot. Southwest China is perfect for that. As the milky tunes of the Naxi flute and glottal voices absorbed us, we sat in silence (or perhaps in reflection) as we looked at the passing landscapes: people selling fruit by the roadsides, men bundling straw, and women eating lunch. We even stopped to take photos of the Yangtze River by the hillside. It seems to be a popular spot since there were more vendors who set up shop there, with their jade ware and old Chinese coins. I also saw some “little red” Mao books, but they weren’t in the best of shape, so I decided not to get one at this particular time.

The Tiger Leaping Gorge

We crossed a bridge and soon found ourselves in Shangri-La. The rainy season in southwest China includes June and the summer months. Therefore, much to our reluctance, our driver took us to a part of the gorge that was easy. So, we hiked the “easy” park of the Tiger Leaping Gorge. Everything was paved for us, and the walk was probably 2 hours, but it included some uphill stairs. We really didn’t face any danger, except the part when some falling rocks stopped two of us in our tracks before a Chinese “park ranger” urged us to pick up and scuttle along faster to the other side of the rock pile. But the view was still photographic---quiet mountains (with the exception of a few falling rocks) against the forceful Yangtze River. We passed by a waterfall that produced crystal blue water, and which emptied out to the brown watery mix and fast current of the Yangtze River below. The altitude at this level was higher, but it did not affect me directly, although it affected some members of our group. But, I was amazed when, at the halfway point of our walk, I heard some clapping behind us: a very, very old fragile Chinese woman and man had walked and even climbed steps to get to our point and their old-aged group congratulated them for being able to make it this far. I instantly thought: grandma and grandpa can’t beat us back!! Especially on the easy trail!

But after that selfish thought came in and out of my head, I realized that the walk produced some good bonding time between the traveling group of 4. The only person I knew really well in the group was Arlene, but I got to talk to Reyna and Nancy and find out more about them. I really think that such an experience is an important part of traveling with other people and perhaps the most difficult because finding the time to get to know them can be hard when your traveling schedule is hectic. But doing so is both beneficial and positive: I believe that it produces the transparency and trust that traveling requires in order getting the best of it. And you earn some friendships in the end!

After our little hike/walk, our group got back into the car and drove to an “agricultural hostel” which is a type of place to eat and it produces meals from homegrown vegetables and fruits. In this agricultural hostel, we went to the back room to choose the raw ingredients that they cooked it for us. We ate fermented tofu, sliced garlic potatoes, and another green leafy dish. And the view of the river? Amazing everywhere.

On the drive back into town that evening in Shangri-La, I thought about the size of China and the amount of military might it needed to unite all the people and all the land---each Chinese dynasty had to either quell secession or be conquered. I also wondered about the next 100 years or so; would all this untouched land be industrialized, will it preserved, or worse, will it become a tourist haven where the sole industry will cater to foreigners? I think a few of us on this trip fear the latter, and I personally hope that the entry of travelers and foreigners into this place produces a cultural and eco-friendly “exchange” between people, rather than a line of shops that sell the same jade necklaces, paper lanterns, or wooden fans the next vendor is also selling.

I also thought about the road we were traveling on; if we took it all the way west, we would have entered Tibet.

But, it was the Shangri-La stop on this trip.

“Because it makes him Happy”

So on to one of my personal favorites so far in the trip: Naxi dancing in the main town square. With the lively traditional Tibetan influenced music filling the outside cool air, as the sun began to set, members of the town gathered that evening to dance. We saw the main group of dancers holding hands in a circle, and at least 2-3 more groups of people joining the circle and forming rings around it. Locals and tourists alike were dancing to the music. But this dancing circle was not strictly left to the females. The men, both businessman, vendors, security guards, military men, fathers, brothers, boyfriends, and sons were dancing in the circle. If they were unable to keep up, they stood outside the circle, practicing, or tapping their foot. The dancing was both feminine and masculine. Both young and old. Women were dressed in traditional garb and tourists also joined the circle dancing. Myself included. In fact I jumped in and danced until I made it around the entire circle. I know for a fact, my traveling buds took pictures of me—probably funny ones as I tried to become an expert. But I was so absorbed in following the footsteps carefully and skipping to the beats of the fast and slow songs, I think I lost myself in my own footwork. Could I say I saw a 1,000 Naxi faces and rocked them all? (For all you Bon Jovi fans). Perhaps.

To me, I began to see their dance as an expression and celebration of a life and culture and so, all the soul and the passion that encapsulates life is displayed in such an artform. But technicalities and artform aside, dancing was a way to form community and for community to form their individuality---and I absorbed it all.

After I went around the circle or two, I hopped out and watched from outside the circles. We met a Tibetan teacher that taught middle school English language. She spoke with Nancy, and after that I briefly spoke with her. She asked me what my ethnicity was. At first, I said “Filipino” and then she asked me if I was studying English because my tone was really good. Then I said, “Actually, I am American” and she looked a bit puzzled, but I explained that my parents were born in the Philippines and that I was born in the “States” and that I am actually Filipino-American. She smiled. She told me that I looked Chinese. Identity can be very confusing, but it is what we choose it to be.

Then I asked her about her son, who was probably less than 2 years old. He was giggling in his father’s arms, pointing at the dancers. She told me that she brings him to the public square to watch the dancing because “it makes him happy here.” I nodded in agreement, as she turned to smile and hold her bubbly toddler.

When our group reunited after the dancing, the Tibetan teacher and her husband suggested a traditional Naxi restaurant—something all of us were looking forward to during our trip. She and her husband and baby drove us and dropped us off at the restaurant and upon arrival, we said our goodbyes and thank yous to our temporary guide. When we entered the restaurant, we saw some tourists carrying some Oxygen tanks—something normal for those who do not live here and cannot stand the attitude change. I think you can get a tank for 25 Y.

What is Naxi food you ask? Well that evening, we had some butter tea (no kidding, it tastes like buttery milk) and had Naxi Cheese with some Naxi bread (called ba ba). The closest similarity I can probably describe it is, for all you Filipinos out there, enseymada—which is a type of bread pastry coated with sugar and cheese. It is delicious as it is filling. I think the whole evening made us happy and satisfied.

It’s like giving stickers to a baby

But the evening wasn’t done yet, because we had to walk back to our hostel. There were traces of daylight and it was almost 9 PM, but it had been a long day of driving around, walking, dancing, and eating.

A quick side story that has nothing to do with the subtitle: our group did some shopping, where Arlene (I have to include this funny story if you’re reading girl) tried to ask a price for a jade Buddha necklace. Now, earlier in the week, she bought one at another shop, but she wanted to know how much this particular shop would have sold it to her. Now, I’m not sure if she was practicing her bargaining technique, but even with Nancy walking in on the whole situation, there was some translation snafu and Arlene ended up “accidentally” buying the Buddha necklace even though she already had one. “Girl, what face did you give when you asked for the price?” I asked. Arlene gave me a sad puppy-dog face. “That isn’t the oh-my-gosh-I’m-offended-it’s-so-high-I’m-gonna-turn-around-and-leave” face. She insisted it was. I said, “we’ll have to work on it.” We all laughed as she added to her collection, a second Buddha jade necklace that left her wondering who she will give it to during Christmas. Done reading? Now, go back again and reread, this time replacing every “Buddha necklace” word you find with “Pashmina shawl”, and you’ll now know why Arlene has two shawls.

Now, on to the last story of the evening. As we crossed the street to head back to the hostile after eating, we found a small toddler, cheeks a bit dirty, but flush pink, wearing bundled clothing (since it gets cold in Shangri-La in the evenings), with an even more cuter puffy hat. She was clinging on to an iron-gated driveway, which was below one restaurant and also next to some other restaurants. She seemed distressed as she held on to the bars, peering inside to the blackness behind the gate. She appeared to be calling out to her mother.

All of us slowed down to admire the cute baby, but then we stopped in our tracks as we realized that the baby was there alone. No mother, no one supervising her, no sibling, no pet dog. Minutes went by and the distressed toddler would make a few paces back and forth before going back to cling the gate, asking for her mother. We soon confirmed this because local bystanders would ask us what we were doing staring at the baby and Nancy would ask in Chinese about the mom. Some bystanders would say they didn’t know, others would say “The mom is working.”

I would say that 15 minutes passed by with this lone baby, and the four of us standing around trying to comfort her as she would start to slowly cry for her mom. Suddenly, I reached into my purse and found some stickers that I had brought along the trip with me. I realized I had brought these stickers in case I met some kids or to give as gifts during my trip to the Philippines. I pulled out a sheet of stickers that had trees and flowers on it and handed it to Nancy.

Nancy peeled one of the stickers and put it on the hand of the baby, and the baby instantly stopped stressing and became curious. She reached out and Nancy handed the baby the sheet of stickers. The baby started to mimic Nancy and put the sticker on her hand and then back onto the sheet. She would then peel another one and put it on her hand again. She then put the sheet in her small pocket. She smiled and came closer to us. Victory! The baby was preoccupied with the stickers and no longer crying.

Suddenly, an image of the woman from behind the gate emerged, carrying a laundry bucket….was it her mother? The woman exited the gate, but the baby didn’t respond. The woman turned to us and told us, “Her mother is behind you, working under that tent, selling food” We all turn a full 180 degrees to the one place we didn’t see; behind us was a yellow tent with the mother indeed was busy selling food. As if on cue, the baby also looked towards the direction we were staring and instinctively walked towards the woman in the tent.

We just stood there, relieved but we also laughed at the whole situation.

(Another) Moral of the story: It won’t ruin your diet or your teeth. In fact, it may buy you enough time to realize the truth of any given situation. Hence, stickers are better than candy.

And so ends another long, but first day in Shangri-La. Tomorrow, day two: our morning adventure and our return to Lijiang. I promise, more stories!