Our trip to Shangri-la (unintentionally) coincided with the Annual Horseracing festival. In prior years, its been held out in grassy fields, but this year it was held in what looked to be a brand-spankin-new stadium. We walked about a half hour from our guesthouse to the stadium, along with throngs of other people. People from surrounding villages converged at the stadium to watch this year’s events. We went in found some seats on the lower level of the stadium.

When we got there, there were a few horses going round the track, in what I took to be warm-ups or something. The horses were so spread out and the riders didn’t look to focused. But actually this is how all the races looked. I don’t know the rules of the race, but here’s my interpretations of what we saw. For each heat, the competing horses are gather behind a gate that opens up into the track and stadium. Then, someone lets the horses into the stadium and that’s the start! They don’t line up or anything, much less shoot a gun- once they’re let in, they just start going. Some of the horses dilly-dally, while some know what’s up and get going quicker. Sometimes, the riders have a hell of a time getting the horse to go the right direction and to get going. The seeming lack of regulations is found in all aspects of the race. Some riders have saddles, while some ride bare-back. Some horses have bells, carpets, and other decorations adorning them while some have nothing but a ride. Some riders wear silky pajama outfits that look like they came from the circus, while some ride in t-shirts and jeans. Not only are there disparities in appearance though. The heats don’t seem to be organized by the speed or size of the horses. Although each heat was five laps, usually only one horse of the four or five concerned actually completed all the laps. Usually one would drop out in the first couple of laps, while the fourth lap usually witnessed any horse without a chance drop out. It was so comical to watch though, with horses lapping each other and stuff. I mean, it was only five laps! Some of the horses didn’t look like they wanted to run and jerked their heads every which way. Sometimes the riders were nearly as big as the tiny village horses they rode. Their size wasn’t the only thing different than modern Western jockeys. The riding style was closer to Texas rodeo than my conception of how to ride a horse. These guys just bounced up and down all the way around the track. It looked like a challenge just to hang on to their horses, much less race them. All in all, it was a pretty entertaining day at the track. Well, a couple hours at least, you can only take so much. It was good for some laughs though.

In an attempt to boost tourism, a few years ago, the government declared the town Zhongdian to be the location of the mythical Shangri-la and renamed the place accordingly. We’ve heard that its been built up substantially since then, as the ploy has actually been effective at boosting tourism. Regardless of its name, Shangri-la is a really scenic town. Its surrounded by mountains, with some snow-capped peaks visible (even now in June). It sits at around 3300 meters, which brings with it dry thin air, blue skies, and cold nights. I love high altitudes! The people are mostly ethnic minorities and incredibly friendly. The town is pretty developed with wide avenues and sidewalks typical of Chinese cities and a smaller “old town” similar to, but smaller than, Lijiang’s.

Zhongdian/Shangri-la town

hills and mountains surrounding Shangri-la

Today we visited the main attraction, the Gamden Sumtseling Gompa, a 300-year-old monastery in the hills just outside of town. We approached it via public bus, admiring its majestic position upon a hill top. A sprawling antiquated mud and stone village lay below it and an Ace Ventura-esque column of stairs led up to the main complex. Although originally built some three centuries ago, the gompa looked pretty restored. We saw construction and painting in progress, while most of the buildings and paintings looked too perfect and fresh to be of any age. So in that sense, it didn’t seem very authentic and was short of character. But on the other hand, the bright colors and active monastery were a nice glimpse into a functioning Tibetan monastery (especially since foreigners are currently banned from going to TAR (Tibetan Autonomous Region) proper).

While there, I couldn’t help but thinking how we’ve really come full circle. We began our Asia trip in Ladakh and eleven months ago, we were exploring similar gompas. The red-robed monks, the Tibetan script, the Buddhist artwork, and architecture, and landscape all brought back memories from the other side of the Tibetan plateau. In some ways, it felt like we had returned to where we started.

I liked it, but I don’t really have anything to say about it. It was simple, spacious, and the most elaborate part was the murals, which, when seen from the beginning stages (as this one towards the entrance was) I realized are pretty simple too.

I found myself standing on a street corner, standing next to Matt who had just used the word “inconceivable” in a sentence. I began to open my mouth to say something, but then stopped as I realized Matt wouldn’t get it. He has never seen The Princess Bride in it’s entirety, and in fact the first time he heard the title he thought it was going to be a chick flick. When I mentioned my chagrin to Matt, he retorted that it was worse to have not ever seen Ace Ventura (which I have not). This moment on the corner led us to a serious debate of which film is more “inconceivable” that the other has not seen. Personally, even though I have not seen it, I don’t see how Ace Ventura can possibly be considered worthy of “classic” status, and doubt it is as oft quoted as are lines from the Princess Bride. But Matt disagrees with me. So I am taking it to the computer screens and keyboards and asking, what do YOU think? If you could only pick one to grant “must see” status, which would it be: Princess Bride or Ace Ventura? (Please, no adding of additional films to ballot. High School Musical is not a “must see,” sorry Julie.)

We made it to Shangrila this afternoon. It was raining and cold. The town is nice, but looks artificial. As it somewhat is. It’s like the Chinese version of the Truman Show. The road was wide and newly paved. “Old” style buildings were really just new and crisp. But the surrounding hills and wide pastures were the real deal and excused the overcompensation in the “aged” architecture.

After a hearty bowl of oatmeal with fruit and nuts, it was time to leave Mama’s. As we got up to go, Mama was standing in the courtyard ready to wish us farewell. We each received a good luck necklace, kiss on the check (Matt got two), and a banana. Baba waved goodbye, and then we were quickly whisked away by one of the staff to find our ride to the bus station. It was quite the send off, but I think a traveler needs a little pomp and circumstance like that every once in a while.

I planted rice today. This morning started out slow, as traffic was pretty much shut down due to the torch relay going through Lijiang this morning. We sat around in the courtyard with a couple of other travelers we’d met the night before, Ben and Alex, waiting to see if it would even be possible to get out of town today. As the morning passed, staff and guests began to trickle back to the hostel as the torch-related activities winded down. This led to a celebratory atmosphere in the courtyard, and Mama began taking pictures with various groups of people, regardless of their own enthusiasm for the torch et al. it was nice I guess, but mostly we just wanted to do something for the day besides hang around Lijiang. Finally, Ben was able to get Mama’s attention long enough to make arrangement for us to make a day trip out of town to Tiger Leaping Gorge. Rushed by Mama, “Let’s go! Let’s go!” we quickly walked through the cobbled streets of Old Town to our cab. At some point (I don’t recall if it was before or after we started driving), it was made clear that we would be switching cars halfway. Whatever. As long as we made it to our destination and back to Lijiang.

So, part way through we stopped at a couple of buildings nestled on the side of the road. We got out of the car and into a new one, said hello to the new driver, and off we went. Everything was ho-hum as we saw the sight (honestly, it was just ok, though most other people I know seem to rave about it), went for a quick hike, and made our way back to Lijiang. After driving for about an hour we pulled over. Our original car was parked just up the road. But where was the driver? We spotted him. In the rice paddy of course. Apparently we had gone through the process of switching cars so that the first driver (and his friend) could help their family replant the rice seedling. Ben had the bright idea to ask to help plant some. I decided to roll-up my pants and jump on the bandwagon. When else would I be able to plant rice? I rolled up my jeans and grabbed a bundle of seedlings that were out on the side of the road.

Cautiously I made my way across the field to where the planting was taking place. The likelihood of me falling in was very high, but luckily I beat the odds. As I stepped into the paddy my feet and ankles sank down into the mud and the murky water covered the bottom of my legs. Not wanting to ruin the rice harvest, I looked to the guy next to me for direction.

He motioned to pull out a small section of stalks from the bundle and then stick it into the mud. A lady came up behind me and offered me an icecream. Seedlings in one hand and mud on the other, I declined. But the locals were pros and could handle a cone and planting at the same time.

Just as I started getting the hang of sticking the plants into the mud, the guy starting tossing his in. I tried it. It was much more fun than bending over. So I finished off planting my bundle of seedlings using the “rice dart” method. Satisfied with having planted, I carefully made my way out of the field.

As Ben and I washed off the mud in the steam on the side of the road, our driver began passing us freshly picked strawberries from the patch alongside the road. In fact, he picked us a whole bag; they were delicious. As we were leaving, someone else came up with a bag full of little green nectarines. Another gift. We smiled and felt blessed by the hospitality of these farmers, and I will always remember the day I planted rice. And Matt says, “I will always remember the strawberries.”

And I will always remember Stewie Baby

Upon returning to Lijiang after a relaxing few days at Lugu Lake, we met a bunch of fellow backpackers. Fortunately two of them wanted to do a day trip to Tiger Leaping Gorge. While most people do a two-day trek through the gorge, I injured my foot last week when I slipped on wet floor. Since then, it really hurts to even walk, so trekking for two days was out of the question. Although doing the trek was one of the things I’d really wanted to do in China, after today’s experience, I’m glad we just did the day trip.

road towards the gorge

I’m unsure of the significance of the gorge, its history, and how it became famous, but I just wanted to go because its supposed to be an incredible sight. I guess depending how measure, it could be considered the deepest gorge/canyon on Earth. We got a late start out of Lijiang because the Olympic torch came through this morning. We opted to sleep in rather than catch a glimpse of the flame, but our guesthouse transformed into a haven of torch frenzy as people came back from the morning’s relay. After millions of photos, our enigmatic and hyper guesthouse owner, MaMa (MaMa Naxi’s Guesthouse), arranged a van for the four of us. We headed out f town along streets lined with security. Literally lined- guards stood every 10 feet, perhaps 100 feet outside of town. For two hours out to the gorge, groups of soldiers stood every half kilometer or so. More amazing than the level of security for the torch was the sheer amount of people/soldiers utilized. Rather than pay attention to the soldiers, I was amazed by the scenery as we climbed up into the hills and mountains. Green hills and grey snow-capped mountains, valleys full of produce, and small stone villages.

After two hours, we turned off the main road towards the gorge. We drove along one side of the gorge on an unpaved road. Originally the lower trail that hikers took to explore the gorge, the government has blasted it into a road to capitalize on its tourism potential. We bumped along deeper and deeper into the gorge, passing dozens of rockslides and waterfalls onto the road. The scenery went from mountainous valley to surreal gorge in just a few minutes. Walls of rock thousands of feet high stretched from the muddy river into the deep blue sky. I think high altitude scenery is the best in the world and Yunnan province has been no exception: the blue skies, ultra white clouds, vibrant green grasses and shrubs, the clear waters, the distinct shadows of the clouds. It brought back faint memories of Ladakh and Nepal- I really do love the mountains. We stopped at one point to take photos, before driving a bit farther to a walkable path. At the turnoff, our driver gestured we could go down to the river. We descended down the steep stone steps. It was really steep and some parts had metal poles and chains embedded in the rock to assist hikers. Joylani and Alex stopped partway down, as the climb back up seemed like it would like ages. Ben and I continued down more until we came to a horizontal path. We walked it a bit, but decided against descending more when the path did. It was a really strenuous climb back up. Looking back, it wasn’t a particularly scenic walk. The best scenery was from high up on the road, as overgrowth blocked any views once we walked down into the gorge more. But it was interesting to look up and just see a strip of sky between two towering walls of stone.

Once back at the car, we began the long journey back to Lijiang. On the way back, I thought about how I was glad we only did a day trip. Yea, the two-day hike was one of the things I’d really wanted to do, mainly because so many people recommended it, but it wasn’t what I’d expected. It was beautiful and impressive, no doubt. But on the other hand, it would have been a two day hike of the same scenery. This wasn’t a mountain range or other dynamic landscape where the scenery would’ve constantly changed. And perhaps after Ladakh and Nepal, my standards are a bit unrealistic. Don’t get me wrong, it was an amazing sight. But I’m glad we opted for a short daytrip.

The most entertaining part of the day though was on the way back. At some point on the drive to the gorge, for some economic reasons beyond me, we switched vans and drivers. When we arrived back at the original van on the way back, we noticed the driver and his brother were out planting rice in the paddies. Seeing us arrive, they came over and began to wash off and get ready to drive us back. But then they asked, jokingly, if we wanted to plant rice instead. Well, Ben and Joylani actually took them up on their offer. So they took off their shoes, rolled up their pants, and waded into the paddy to plant! Alex and I were content with taking photos of them. Besides watching Joylani learning the different techniques to replanting rice, it was interesting to watch the other villagers. One old guy was driving a tractor around plowing a recently harvest field, while a group of old ladies planted nearby. Also funny was that most of the villagers were eating popsicles and ice-cream bars as they planted. Just not what I’d expected. Afterwards, Joylani and Ben washed off in a nearby stream, although I’m not sure how sanitary that was. Our driver also picked us a bag of strawberries and apricots to eat. The entertaining stop was a spontaneous and fun way to cap off our day.

When we returned we found Olympic spirit spread all over town.

We got back to Lijiang yesterday afternoon, ready for a full dose of Mama Naxi. After trudging through puddled streets as we tried to fit the two of us (plus our backpacks) under one very small umbrella, we arrived at Mama’s. She quickly ushered us to a room and told us dinner was at six.

I changed out of my soaked clothes and flopped onto the bed, happy to be down with the cramped van-ride and rainy finale of our journey back from Lugu Lake. I wasn’t so sure about Mama’s—the room was clean, but the walls very thin, and the shared bathroom rather smelly. But I knew one thing: Mama was one of a kind, and I was looking forward to seeing what this family-style dinner would be like. Six o’clock quickly rolled around and Matt and I headed downstairs for some much needed food. We sat a an empty table, but were soon joined by six other people.

Then food began to arrive. First a serving of rice to fill each of our bowls. Then a plate of fried pumpkin, followed by pork, chicken, lotus root, potatoes, beans, etc…one dish after another until all the empty spots on our table were filled. We dug in, passing plates back and forth, reaching across the table with chopsticks to grab a bite of this or that. It was delicious, especially after three nights of the same BBQ meal of questionable meats and veggies (the latter were ok I think). Nothing was very saucy, just fresh: some of it steamed, some of it fried, but nothing to oily or heavy. As all the guests finished up, Mama walked around, shouting (which seemed to actually just be normal for her) in a hoarse voice, “Money, Money!” and collecting 10RMB from each person for the meal. Not too bad considering the number of dishes and the prices at restaurants in this touristy (read: overpriced) part of town.

One of the guys at our table, Ben, was still a little hungry after dinner, so he ordered a burger. Mama (still wearing her purse) cooked it in a pan over a gas flame. Before eating it, Ben took the veggies off to the side. Seeing this, Mama came over, sat next to Ben and scolded him for not eating the veggies as she reached over, grabbed one off his plate and ate it herself.

The next morning as I took a shower, I heard a Greenday song playing—Mama’s ring-tone. Her voice carried all the way through the courtyard, into the bathroom where I could still hear her voice surprisingly clearly. That’s just Mama for you. As I ate a bowl of fruits and oatmeal in the courtyard, I watched in amusement as she cooked food, arranged transport, bossed the staff (and a few guests) around, and celebrated the Olympic torch—almost all simultaneously. A short while later she had arranged a ride for us plus a couple others to head up to Tiger Leaping Gorge for the day. “Let’s go! Let’s go!” she called to us all of a sudden, and we were quickly ushered out of the hostel compound towards a waiting cab. Upon our return later that evening, we were disappointed to learn there was no group dinner tonight. We ordered four BLTs instead. One of them came without veggies, cuz Mama knows what her guests like.

The past two days have been spent at beautiful Lugu Lake. It was long and windy eight hour bus ride from Kunming, but the scenery was spectacular. Our bus snaked north through the mountains, ascending from Lijiangs 1800 meters to Lugu’s 2700. Besides the usual food, toilet, roadwork breaks, we stopped just short of our destination for a canoe ride. We had already arrived at the lake and were just minutes from the village we were headed to, but I think the bus driver got some sort of commission. Despite that, our entire bus emptied and boarded two hollowed out logs. The local boatmen (boys) rowed us about a half-hour to an island in the middle of the lake. The incredibly still and smooth, creating awesome reflections of the mountains and clouds in the dark blue water. The island was small, but supported a small Tibetan monastery nonetheless. I assume food is boated in regularly. It was nice little ride with some nice scenery, but I could have done without the ride.

a nice view on the ride to Lugu

canoe ride on the glassy lake

I made a lot of interesting observations even before we reached our final destination though. As we drove further and further into the mountains, farther from development and into remoteness, things began to change. One, litter began to increase all along the roadside. The small villages we passed through were worlds away from Kunming and touristy Lijiang. It was interesting to see poverty in China for the first time. The miserable road-building camps and all. But it wasn’t all bad, not even mostly. Yunnan is supposedly the most diverse state and as we drove, Han Chinese gradually thinned out to nil. We were headed into Mosu land, a Chinese minority group. Faces darker, some could’ve passed for South Indian or Black. The women wore these huge hats, which resembled oversize graduation caps. But perhaps most interesting were the signs describing the customs of the local people. The Mosu are a matriarchal society, supposedly one of the last practicing ones in the world. The women can take on multiple lovers and control all property, even the children. Apparently Chinese tourists like the multiple lover thing, because I read that prostitution has become a problem in the area. Anyways, we ended up in the village of Lige.

cobalt skies at Lake Lugu

Our guidebook described Lige as a sleepy little place with a single guesthouse. When we arrived though, there were probably a dozen new guesthouses/hotels with another dozen still being built. The sudden increase in capacity made it easy for us to find a cheap room, at a Hostelling International place. We actually bought a membership card in Lijiang and it should pay for itself pretty soon. But I’m becoming a fan of Hostelling International affiliated places in China, because they have English speaking staff and good quality rooms, travel services, and free internet. Back to Lige, there’s not a whole lot. For every breakfast and dinner, we went to the same restaurant (one of only a handful in Lige). It was just simple family-run place constructed out of wooden planks, but it was always busy with Chinese tourists. The specialty in Lige are tables with BBQs in the middle. You order the food, they bring it, and you grill it. Our first night, we got some zucchini, eggplant, and what I thought was bacon. Well, it was sort of bacon, but mostly it was just cubes of white jelly stuff. Then I remembered something I’d read, grilled pig fat is a local specialty. It was too late to change our order, so I chowed down on the local fare. With the provided seasoning it actually wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t good enough to ever order again though, too.

The next two days were pretty lethargic. We took a scenic hike up into the hills on our first morning. The vistas were amazing. The deep blue sky only found at altitude, bright greens of the crops and forest, and the stillest lake I’ve ever seen. Besides that, we didn’t do anything of note for two days. We walked along the lakeside quite a few times, talked a lot, read, wrote. The second day was some sort of holiday, so we saw people wearing grass ornaments on their heads, burning offerings in little white stupas, and the women gathered together to hang out in the afternoon. We did a lot of thinking and talking about the future: our visit home this summer, our itinerary after that, and our plans for reentry in 2009. I guess if you’re gonna do nothing, Lige isn’t a bad place to come. It could’ve been really boring, but it was good retreat from our travels of late. It was scenic and all the local people were unbelievably friendly.