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!
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!
posted by RENEWED at
11:59 PM
