Last Day on the Earth's Biggest Sidewalk

I spent my last day in China walking along the Great Wall. It really felt fitting: ancient, touristy, uneven, and littered.

At the suggestion of one of Josh's colleagues, an American who lived as an ex-pat in Beijing for four years, we hired a driver who, a few years ago, had taken her to a specific entrance at the "wild" part. There is one relatively short section of wall that has gondolas, buses, merchants, and crowds. We hoped to avoid that. So, Sunday morning, Jaiyin (a different colleague), Cyril (another colleague), and the driver picked us up in front of the apartment. We drove for about an hour and a half north (I think) of Beijing. The roads became narrower and the scenery more mountainous.

The driver and Jaiyin chatted in the car. We stopped at a homemade toll that some villagers had installed to collect money from tourists accessing this part. We paid twenty yuan each, got back in the car, and drove pretty much into someone's driveway. The driver explained to Jaiyin that he would meet us at the base of the developed part of the wall, and it would take us four to five hours to get there.

Jaiyin was very nervous that we wouldn't make it that far (she's not much of a hiker), so she kept checking in with the driver throughout our adventure. Somehow, China has cell reception everywhere.

We climbed up a steep trail outside of the village for a little over a half an hour. When we emerged from the trees, we could see watchtowers at peaks all over.

We arrived at a watchtower where a woman was waiting by a ladder. She charged us five yuan each to climb it.

Cyril, Jaiyin, and Josh at the first watchtower of our journey.

Jaiyin insisted we trade places:

Cyril, Kelly, and Josh at the first watch tower. 

The Air Quality Index was in the eighties in Beijing, and we hoped it would clear up outside of the city. But, it was still a little hazy, which was disappointing. I bet you could see much farther on a clear day. The wall, of course, extended in two directions. We had to ask the ladder guard lady which way to go. Here is a picture of the way we could not go. You can't see it that well in this picture, but the wall extends on the ridges for quite a ways: 

We set out in (hopefully) the right direction.

Looking back at the first watchtower. 

The "wild" part of the wall has not been maintained. Bricks have fallen, trees and bushes grow all through it. Cyril told us that in some parts, villagers over the years had taken some of the bricks for their own projects. He and Jaiyin also estimated (none of us had done proper research) that the wall had been built in the 800s CE, so we were crawling around on 1200 year old stones. (And the bricks were carved stones, which is really impossible to imagine how they 1. carved all the stones, 2. carried them up there, and 3. lined them up on scary ridges.)

Nature taking over. 

We came upon many more watchtowers in varying states of crumbling. Some we walked around, some we climbed over, and some we crawled through. They had small archways, fireplaces, and different rooms.

Jaiyin and Kelly

The wall very dutifully follows ridge lines to better keep an eye on barbarian hordes. There were gaps in the wall for looking out, shooting arrows. Cyril, Josh, and I spent quite a bit of time hypothesizing and demonstrating various defense positions: crouch with arrow? lie down with arrow? aim and then duck? etc.

Because the wall follows the mountains, which are pointy, like a bunch of Ms littered all over, much of our hike was on very steep grades. This was an uphill where Jaiyin was probably wanting to call the driver:

And I'm all like, teehee.

Jaiyin did keep me laughing by exclaiming things like, "This is a miracle!" and "We are amazing!" (us for hiking the wall or the Chinese for building it?).

I don't know what to do with my hands?

Ancient Mongol cell tower in the background.

This descent was no joke at least at a forty-five degree angle. Looking back at it later, Cyril thought some parts were closer to sixty (he went to MIT; I trust his estimations). The left side (of the picture below) was, of course, slippery marble-like slabs, and the right side was packed dirt and bushes. I hung right and held on to the wall for balance. There was sliding, rocks coming lose, and a couple of falls.

Safety first.

We hiked for a few hours. Jaiyin called the driver to tell him we would meet him at the touristy part. We were sweaty and hungry. There was garbage in the watchtowers though we saw only one other small group in our section. I, of course, went on a litter-tirade, and Cyril, who is Malaysian/Canadian/American, told me that twenty years ago, Beijing and the other cities were dirtier and more chaotic. He said he remembers the rivers in Malaysia flowing with garbage. I had it easy, apparently. 

The touristy part has been reconstructed, so the path is relatively smooth, there are staircases, sometimes handrails, and vendors selling "I have come to the Great Wall" tshirts. 

A particularly steep staircase. Kelly-sized feet have to go totally sideways on these.

We went down and up countless, countless stairs. I kept telling Jaiyin it would be good for our butts. We finally found our way to some shuttle buses that took us to the parking lot where the driver was waiting. He dropped us at a restaurant, and Jaiyin ordered too much food (the rest of us couldn't read the menu). But we ate it happily. The iPhone pedometer read nine miles (again), so I didn't feel too bad about some gorging (though I avoided the pork belly).  

After a shower and a nap, Josh and I met up with Cyril for dinner. We wandered through the streets where Cyril showed us his favorite bookstore and restaurants. We came to a brick courtyard with patio seating, lights, and trees. We each ordered different kinds of noodles with mushrooms, and the dishes came in giant bowls filled with broth. It got dark, and I filled up on real Chinese food for the last time. 

The walk home felt so easy. It was not up a forty-five degree angled, thousand year old mountain wall. It was filled with countless people, honking scooters, veering cars, panhandlers, more people, puddles, and garbage--a city like any other big city, but one that was still, for me, incredibly alien and impenetrable. But, finally, after a week in one place, we knew how to get back to the apartment and how to cross the street without dying. I felt absolutely ready to come home. 

Observer of Things, Part 2

• Waiters Waiting
• We met the weirdest waiter who loitered around the table and kept trying to like bat his eyes at me and say things in Chinese. He tried a few things in English, repeated pretty much everything we said in a creepy robotic way, and told us his name was Rick. 
• Toilets
• I read an article on a plane about squat toilets vs. Western toilets. Scroll down for a nice illustration. There's also some facts about tradition and cleanliness.
• More Packaging Tape

On a tree

• Double Whammy:

Slippery marble hallway lined with plastic sheet that slides around. Mostly secured by packaging tape. 

• Park Anywhere
• Last night, Josh's colleague said there aren't stop signs in Beijing. We found one with a pretty typical parking job. This one you can actually walk around. 

Cars parked on sidewalk and car driving down sidewalk.
I tried to take a backwards photo while walking so no one would honk at me.

• Tree Trimming
• happens all over so you better be careful. These trees seemed to interfere with the extraordinarily low hanging electrical wires. Photo taken from back of taxi. 

• Litter
• There is litter pretty much everywhere, and I don't understand. Even in a protected wilderness area on the Tibetan border, in the streets, subway, bathrooms. There are garbage cans and recycling bins. I can't wrap my head around it. 
• Westerners Not Saying Hello
• I'm not looking for a kiss hello or a friendly introduction, just a nod and I smile like, "You are in a weird place, I am in a weird place, let's acknowledge this together."
• Umbrellas
• Everyone, especially women, carries umbrellas. Everywhere. When it's not raining. 
• I was told by one of Josh's colleagues that in China, the paler a woman is, the more beautiful. So they shield themselves from the sun with umbrellas, puffy arm warmers, and
• Tights
• Lots of skin colored tights which makes girls' legs look like creepy cyborg legs. 
• Tree Pits
• Most sidewalks are lined with trees, which are nice, but they are planted in these deep hell pits. I don't know how everyone doesn't have sprained ankles what with all the high heels and swerving. 
• Cool Toys? Knickknacks? 



Sleeping cats and dogs made of what must be hair. 

• Can't Make That Cocktail
• We will have bar menus with American/European cocktails on them, then, when someone orders one of them, we will shake our heads and say we don't know how to make it. 
• A Manhattan in Shangri-La contained a dangerous amount of absinthe.
• Matching Outfits
• Couples, parents and children, friends. 

Matching shoes and capris accompanied by a sidewalk death trap, the tree pit.
Also, cars parked on sidewalk and mystery water. So much happening in this one.

Mother-daughter. 

Colorblock couple with fringed purple umbrella. 

• Pollution vs. Rain
• When it rains, the rain "knocks down" the pollution, which makes the sky clear. 
• Pollution is a thing that can be knocked down.
• Where does the pollution go? Probably onto the sidewalk. 
• I feel like my entire experience in China has been about sidewalks. 
• I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
• Because he has fancy China tea cup water dishes. 
• He is also terrifying.

• Art

Portraits of Obama, Putin, Xi stand proudly over some fantasy painting of woman on round thing at sea, old man on sea staircase.
(Photo was hard to get as the gallery employee was hovering.)

I'll leave you with this nightmare.

Cooking Classes

We took two Chinese cooking classes! Oh my! 

When traveling, I found a class in Dali in our guidebook, and we started getting really excited. The class included a tour of the market and shopping for good ingredients, even a restaurant visit. I signed up and... the lady was out of town. So we couldn't do it.

But, the idea was to good to pass up, so upon our return to Beijing, we did some internet research and found a few options. It was hard to decide, but we settled on two: Sichuan and dumplings. 

Sichuan

We took the Sichuan class Wednesday evening. The class was located in a hutong not far from where we first stayed. We stopped by our old place to visit with Qun then walked to the class. This place, called The Hutong Kitchen, offers multiple cooking classes every day. They had a rooftop patio, classrooms, tshirts... it was the real deal. We sat at a big table with a lady from India, a foursome from France, a couple from Finland, and a pair of Canadian teachers working in China. Our teacher, Miya, was Chinese, and she has mastered the finest sarcasm in English. 

We visited Sichuan when we went to Chengdu (pandas). Sichuan cooking is known for its spiciness, and the most famous dishes (which I feel like I've had a dozen times already) are mapo doufu and gongpao chicken. Josh and I tried to make mapo doufo once, and failed. Miya, I hope, set us on the right path. 

I could not look like more of a dork stirring this tofu sauce. 

We also made a stir fried cabbage that was excellent. None of the food was too spicy, fortunately for me and the French woman behind me. She was very worried the food would be too spicy, and she cringed every time Miya threw in another handful of Sichuan peppercorns (numbing peppers). We all ate way too much food (again) and took turns at the woks. We took a bunch of notes, so hopefully we can recreate the dishes back in Boulder. I also got to use a giant cleaver, like the kind in cartoons. 

Dumplings

This morning (Friday), Josh skipped out on work so we could take a dumpling class. Josh is obsessed with a special soup dumping called xiao long bao which we also failed at making for a group of hungry friends. We had very delicious xiao long bao at a restaurant, and he took pictures of me eating it "properly," so I will let him post about that. Josh is right to be a fan. 

This dumpling class focused more on Beijing or Northern China style dumplings, and it also took place in a hutong. Our instructor was Chao, and his wife scurried around washing dishes. The classroom was in part of his house, and he had a big dining area and an outdoor patio. 

Chao broke us into teams. Josh, a woman from Shanghai, and a woman from Indonesia made boiled pork dumplings. A woman from Germany and I made steamed vegetarian dumplings, and a couple from England made pan-fried beef dumplings. Chao also whipped up some cucumber salad while we were working. 

Making dumplings is hard. We didn't get any pictures of the process because we were covered in flour, filling, and Chao kept correcting our technique. There is a very careful way of rolling out the dough and folding in the filling, and he did it with such speed and perfection. We also again used giant cleavers, and I am the world's slowest cleaver chopper. No one was injured. 

Chao was very good at explaining why you stir the filling a certain way or why the dough has to be rolled just so, changing the temperature of the water, etc. Unfortunately, the print outs from both lessons failed to include this information (as well as some of the cooking techniques), so I really hope my brain decides to be cooperative and hold this stuff in there.

Now, I feel like we can probably fairly (at least) successfully make some dumplings at home. But, I promise to practice on myself first before sharing with guests. Unless someone wants to come help me next week.

Sad Blog

I have a few more days here before I return to the U.S. Josh has been working, and I have spent this week trying to read, write, and research as much as possible, looking out at the buildings from our 6th floor window. 

But, yesterday, I got in a depressing internet research spiral which will make this post not funny or observational. 

First of all, there are a lot of depressing things about China. The weird smells, mystery puddles, and litter are funny when you imagine me trying to leap over them, but they're also sad. Josh has to keep reminding me that it is a developing country, and the population is unfathomable. We have been reading English-language magazines here, such as The World of Chinese, that frequently feature articles on development and Westernization. I shared some of the problems in the Pollution & Population post. The following is directly related to urban development and population: 

***

I forget where I read this information first: in a newspaper on a plane, on Twitter--I can't remember. But I came across the story of four children in rural China committing suicide. They were the children of migrant parents who had left to work in the city. They left the siblings, ages five to fourteen, alone for almost a year. They called, sometimes visited, and sent money. The children drank pesticide. 

These children are, I learned, but a tiny handful of some 60 million "left behind children" of rural China. Children whose parents (one or both) moved for work and left the children with grandparents, neighbors, or to fend for themselves. 60 million is about one-fifth of the population of all the children of China and about one-fifth of the entire population of the U.S. 

One article cited that 70% of children in rural China suffer from anxiety and/or depression and most do not graduate ninth grade. 

Why are they abandoned? Many of the jobs rural Chinese people seek and can find (that pay more than traditional farming) are in factories which provide employee housing. The housing does not allow for children. Also, the hours are incomprehensible. Or, if they find another kind of job in a big city, there are residential rules that do not allow for children to be moved from one area to another. They can't register for school without proper documentation, so the parents leave them at home. Then, even worse, hundreds of rural schools are being closed, so some children walk an hour or more to and from school. 

I kept reading and reading, sucked into a web of repeated information. All of the articles seemed to say the same thing, citing the same sources. I tried to find organizations that support children in this situation (it seems to be getting a lot of media attention), and found only one based out of Atlanta that gives pretty much zero information on what they do, nor can you earmark donations for that cause specifically. Josh said that it is difficult for non-government organizations (NGOs) to work or even exist in China, especially foreign philanthropic ones. After the most recent suicide, a government official is quoted as saying something like this "should not happen again." 

That's really all I could find. 

I am using an internet VPN which puts my IP address as Los Angeles, so I am/should be able to access anything on the internet, so I don't think blocked sites are the problem. 

The whole thing makes me feel anxious all over, and also helpless, and a little obsessive. I wish I could easily toss some money somewhere, though I don't know how helpful that is, really. 

Even though it is depressing and awful, I do recommend looking through these articles, especially the pictures. Students: I think it will be especially informative and eye-opening for you to look through this as well. 

References:

• 'Left-Behind' Children Need Our Attention Now, Caixin, July 2015 -- One of the most recent pieces I've found. Offers a succinct explanation and call to action. 
• Left-Behind Children of China's Migrant Workers Bear Grown-Up Burdens, Wall Street Journal, Jan. 2014 -- This one has photos that focus on one family as well as statistical details in the article itself. 
• China orders inquiry into deaths of children who swallowed pesticide, The Guardian, June 2015 -- Shares the most recent death case as well as photos of the house where the children lived. 
• Adult Supervision Required, Slate, May 2015 -- A short, readable article. 
• China's Left Behind, World Policy Institute, Summer 2013 -- A long history with a story from a documentary. Also includes examples of income and cost of living in different areas. 
• The village and the girl, BBC News, June 2015 -- A beautiful photo essay including a ten year report on a woman and her family as her village turned into a city. 
• Global Health Action -- The only nonprofit I could find with activity directly for this problem. 

Kelly, Observer of Things

I've been keeping a list of things I've witnessed/encountered/observed. Call them cultural differences.*

• Bathrooms
• Squat Toilets: Actually not that bad, but always mysteriously dirty and wet. Why are they so wet all over? Is it pee? Water? This one is super clean though:

• Future Toilets: Is this on an airplane? No, it's in a mall. 

• There is like a 30% chance you'll get toilet paper. I've taken to carrying a little thing of tissues everywhere. 
• There is a like a 20% chance you'll get soap.
• I twice used a kind of trough that ran along the side of a room. There were about three foot high barriers one squatted within. Others' waste rolled right on underneath you. 
• Segregated stalls: 

• Toilet Paper
• When there actually is toilet paper, it is weirdly stretchy and rips off in a feathered mess. 
• Bring Out Your Dead
• Thrice I've seen men riding carts down the streets calling out something in a sing-song that sounds and looks just like a scene from Monty Python. 
• Spitting/Hacking
• Just go ahead and hock a loogie anywhere. 
• Nail Clipping 
• Okay in public. 
• Fingernails: a bartender (while working), a flight attendant (while working)
• Toenails: guy on stool on the sidewalk
• Half a Shirt
• Chinese men rock this style of lifting up the bottom half of their shirt so their guts hang out. Catch a cool breeze. 
• Scooters
• Scooters are an important mode of transportation and are totally lawless. They will run you over. 
• Cars are Terrifying
• Park anywhere. 
• Run any light. 
• Plow through pedestrians.
• Honk all the time, for anything. 
• Crossing the street is like Frogger where people yell at you in Chinese.
• Move to the Right? 
• When walking head on on a sidewalk, like playing chicken with someone, I default to the right, but that's not it ... the left? It doesn't matter. There are no paths on the sidewalk. It's survival of the fittest. 
• Shouting
• Oh my god the shouting. 
• Cutting in Line
• Cut in line for taxis, subway tickets, getting on buses, getting on the subway, getting food, anything. Cut away. 
• Riding in Taxis
• is crazy. Not for the fainthearted or carsick. They mean business. They go fast and get you there. Passing, honking, cutting people off, skirting pedestrians and scooters. 
• Staring
• I must look so weird, covered in boogers or something.
• Mystery Water 
• Unknown quantities of mystery water. Puddles, dripping off buildings, dripping mysteriously from nowhere. 
• Hovering Waiter/tress
• They just stand there waiting for you to order. Flip through the menu, talk to your friends, they wait silently. 
• Water
• We can't drink the water, so we have to buy bottled water all the time. Even for brushing our teeth. 
• If a waiter/tress brings you water, it just has to sit there. 
• Squat Sitting
• People rock this amazing chill position on the street all the time. Same as over a squat toilet, but you just hang. 
• Tired waiting for the bus? Squat. 
• Wrapped Lemon
• A bartender unwrapped a lemon. It was in a clear, plastic wrapper like a Twinkie. 
• Wrapped Dishes 
• More than once encountered dishes at a restaurant wrapped in plastic. 

• Snot Rockets 
• You are not on a hike or run. You are on the sidewalk. Why? 
• Too Much Food
• Holy serving size. Stop ordering food, Josh. Every time it is too much. 
• Packaging Tape
• Can be used for hanging posters, hanging framed posters, lining apartment hallways, fixing things on buses, just sticking a roll on the wall at the airport.
• Crooked Fixtures
• So many things are installed imperfectly and not straight, like the outlets and light switches at a five star hotel. Fill hole gaps in with putty beneath the fixture. Oh, how is this possible. 
• Slippery Floors
• Sidewalks, hallways, bathrooms, stairs, pedestrian overpasses... all often feature marble or marble-like surfaces that, when coated with mystery water, become slippery avenues of death.
• Crooked Sidewalks 
• Not for the blind or disabled. 
• Napkins
• Maybe a 40% chance you can score a napkin.
• Front Backpacks
• Let's all wear our backpacks on the front. Even when walking down the street with friends. 
• High Heels
• Ladies like pointy footwear, which I don't understand with all the broken, upturned bricks in the sidewalk, puddles everywhere. Even when climbing 800 stairs to temples. 
• Garbage Truck Music 
• Garbage trucks are like ice cream trucks! 
• Heard: "It's a Small World." 
• Unlucky Numbers
• 4 and 13
• The word for 4, sì, and the word for dead, sǐ, are so similar that 4 is the most unlucky number. 
• The luckiest number is 8. 
• Our current apartment does not have a 4th floor, a 13th floor, a 14th floor, or a 24th floor, according to the elevator buttons. 
• This elevator made some fixes with tape (!), but the screen says otherwise. 

• Dogs/Kittens
• So many dogs and kittens. 
• Josh has been taking pictures of all the dogs. I think he misses Millicent. 

*Note that I am a Type A clean/neat freak. Also obsessed with weird behaviors/mysteries. Spying, eavesdropping, looking in windows. You know this. It takes this adventure to the next level.

Utopias, Yaks, and the End of the World

Now that we are back in Beijing, and I have my computer, I can write and post pictures with a little more ease and clarity. Our exploration trip is over, Josh is back at work, and we have settled in to a nice studio apartment. I will be here for one more week, and Josh will stay until the end of July. 

The last days of our trip were definitely the best. To orient you geographically, and to set the stage, we first left Beijing and flew to Shenzhen (down there by Hong Kong). Then we flew to Chengdu (Sichuan Province). That's where our first travel failures began, so we flew to Kunming (Yunnan Province). Yunnan is very cool geographically. It is mountainous and has foliage I've never seen before. It is bordered by Vietnam, Laos, Myanmar, and Tibet. 

Our journey through Yunnan took us up right next to the Tibetan border, which is why it was so beautiful and interesting. Tibet is technically (I guess) part of China, which is a heated topic here and worldwide. Here, it is called "Tibet Autonomous Region." Here is a link to the Wikipedia page explaining how that works. And here is a link to a timeline of Tibet's history and its relationship with China. It is probably impossible to gather objective information about it. 

Anyway, below I've outlined our journey through Yunnan. We took buses from Kunming to Dali, then Dali to Shangri-La, then Shangri-La to just south of Deqin (various spellings), then back to Shangri-La for a flight to Beijing. As you can see on the map, and from pictures below, our hotel faced Meili Snow Mountain which borders Tibet. The area has massive, massive mountains and a major Buddhist influence. Tibetans (80%), Chinese locals and Chinese tourists, Western tourists, prayer flags, temples, and twisting mountain roads abound. I stole the map from the internet and added details from our journey: 

On Wednesday, June 24, we arrived in Shangri-La. Shangri-La used to be called Zhongdian. But after the popularity of James Hilton's novel (and its subsequent movie adaptation), Lost Horizon (full version available here), China allowed cities to bid for a name change. Zhongdian won, and in 2001, it became "Shangri-La." Here is a brief summary of the novel offered by Wikipedia: 

"Hugh Conway, a veteran member of the British diplomatic service, finds inner peace, love, and a sense of purpose in Shangri-La, whose inhabitants enjoy unheard-of longevity. Among the book's themes is an allusion to the possibility of another cataclysmic world war brewing. It is said to have been inspired at least in part by accounts of travels in Tibetan borderlands, published in National Geographic by the explorer and botanist Joseph Rock. ...

The book explicitly notes that, having made war on the ground, man would now fill the skies with death, and all precious things were in danger of being lost, like the lost histories of Rome. It was hoped that, overlooked by the violent, Shangri-La would preserve them and reveal them later to a receptive world exhausted by war. That was the real purpose of the lamasery; study, inner peace, and long life were merely a side benefit to living there."

Our Tibetan guide said he thinks the lifespans of Tibetans are decreasing.

Here are a few temples and the world's largest prayer wheel in Shangri-La: 

Lots of stores and restaurants, uneven stone streets, and plenty of dust. 

View of Shangri-La. The wood-roofed buildings in the foreground are part of "Old Town" which suffered a big fire last year. The "New Town" (background) has been built up as part of the growing tourist industry. The owner of the hostel where we stayed wants to move again because the town has become too busy.

Josh helping turn the prayer wheel. It is so heavy that at least six (maybe more) people are needed to turn it. 

Organized dancing in the square.

Tibetan Flava Flav.

We spent only one night there at an okay hostel. We did have a pretty good dinner at a Tibetan restaurant. The highlight was some confusion ordering beer (the words for "cold" and "two bottles" are very similar), which resulted in us getting beer with ice in it. Then, once we got it sorted out, the waiter brought us a second beer and proceeded to pry the cap off with his teeth.

Early the next morning, after more confusion and mistakes trying to get places, we ended up at the bus station with a ticket to Deqin. I also used the grossest bathroom of all time. But when you're about to board a bus for several hours, with no idea where you're going, and you can't really ask the driver to stop, you have to step into the icky pool of mystery water. 

The drive was terrifying. The roads were narrow and curvy; the bus driver made passes on the outside of blind corners. But, I will say with certainty: There is a difference between these mountains and Colorado mountains. They are much, much bigger. And we do not have little villages with terraced fields. These next few pictures are from the bus, so they're not very good. 

Outside of Shangri-La.

Mountain farming.

Mountain farming. The valleys are so steep and descend sharply to rivers or just turn into another mountain, so the villages are all on the mountain sides. 

We took a break at the summit of the road. It was not the highest point, just the highest we could drive on.

Road summit: 4,292 meters which is 14,081 feet. Our bus did a fourteener no problem. 

The bus. Josh is trying to talk to a cyclist. There were a ton of them riding on the scary road. This guy was riding from Kunming to Lhasa. 

Later, we learned that all of the prayer flags and other religious things at the summit were put there by truckers hoping for good luck in their journey. 

Where we went next. These mountains are way bigger than they look.

The manager of the hotel where we were staying spoke to the bus driver and told him to drop us off here. They sent a driver down to pick us up.

Josh studying Chinese characters while waiting for a ride. 

We actually spent some money to stay at a very nice, all-inclusive hotel called Songtsam Meili. Should you find yourself in northwestern Yunnan, China, I recommend it. The hotel (and our room, gasp) faced Meili Snow Mountain, which is considered one of the most holy mountains in Tibetan Buddhism. Its highest peak, Kawagarbo, has never been summited. Our guide (later) told us this is probably because the mountain is holy, and it can't be summited. Pilgrims spend ten days or more walking around its base.

Meili Snow Mountain and Kawagarbo Peak on right (22,110 feet). The hotel is the building on the ridge center. 

A Tibetan village of only five families lies directly behind the hotel.

Mountains behind the hotel. Tibetan village house on the right. 

At the hotel, we enjoyed tea time, an hour long hike, and a delicious dinner of local yak meat, pork, and soup. During dinner, a rowdy group from Shanghai kept trying to talk to us, but their English was non-existent or fragmented, so there was a lot of gesturing, translator app using, and bilingual friend recruiting. All this resulted in a loud game of charades and a night hike where they, for the first time, saw stars. 

The next day, we begrudgingly paid for a guided hike to Baima Snow Mountain. We were tired of trying to figure out where to go. Josh really wanted to see the Mingyong Glacier, which is right below Kawagarbo and is supposed to be super interesting. It is huge, you can walk up to it, and it has diverse biomes. The hike has some temples along the way, but, after doing some research, it seemed impossible to get to. It would take a whole day, and, at this point, we were exhausted. It sounded nice to be kind of pampered. Here is an article about how the Mingyong Glacier is receding due to global warming. Our guide told us he has seen where the glacier was and where it is now. Everyone over there admits it. 

So we set off with our guide who was also the hotel's manager. I don't know his name, sadly, but he was happy to answer all of our invasive questions. In the car, he explained the holiness of Meili Snow Mountain, the prayer flags at the summit, and that our view of Kawagarbo's peak was very lucky. 

Our hike began by parking in a construction site. On our journey here, we saw that a new, wider road with many tunnels was being built. At the trailhead, we saw the tunnel work up close. The mountain's innards were poured out into a valley with water running down. Josh explained that this is not good.

How to make a tunnel.

We proceeded with our hike, and our guide sang some songs. He speaks Tibetan, Mandarin, and English. The songs he sang were in Tibetan, and he told us about them as he sang. Baima Snow Mountain is part of a reserve that is closed off to the public. The hotel has a deal with the research center so they are able to take guests through.

Research base that guards the trail to Baima Snow Mountain.

We hiked along through woods and across streams. The guide pointed out types of flowers and talked a little about his life on a farm in Sichuan. We ate a huge lunch. The mountain was hard to see because it was so cloudy. This is normal for summer, unfortunately. We never saw the summit. 

There were a lot of yaks. Yaks are very important up here. The people use the meat, make milk and cheese, use the wool, make leather, etc. 

Pretending to be a yak.

Our guide, posing with some yaks. 

Along the hike, our guide also told us about Tibetan nomads who herd yaks. There were three nomad huts along the trail, and the research center allows a few herders to stay there through the summer.

Nomad hut.

Josh said something like, "Can we say hi to them?" Our guide replied, "Of course!" Then he went and knocked on the door.

The two men inside greeted us and quickly moved blankets out of the way so we could sit on a bed. The hut was symmetrical, with two beds on either side and a fire pit down the center.

Butter churns and equipment. 

They were quick to pour Josh endless cups of yak butter tea and gave us cheese. They had made it all for eating and selling. The men live in the hut four to five months out of the year, then they return home (I forget the name of the town, but it was pretty far, about halfway through our bus ride) for the winter. The cheese was really good, and the tea was weird. It tasted like melted salty butter. They kept trying to give me more.

Left: Yak cheese the men make and sell. Our guide boasted that it was "organic." Right: Yak butter tea.

They spoke to our guide in Tibetan, and every now and then he translated. We asked a few questions, too. They have about sixty yaks, and they have been coming to the same place for grazing for twenty years. The man on the right talked at length, and after we left, our guide explained that he was criticizing all the Chinese tourists who come to Yunnan to take pictures of Meili Snow Mountain. He says they just take pictures when the mountain is holy, and you are supposed to honor it with your heart and soul. He said they all were getting bad karma.

From left: our guide, two Tibetan nomads
They keep the fire going all the time. Above the fire is a row of logs that the smoke dries. In the background, you can see the wooden bunk. We are sitting on the other one. Each guy had is own half of the cabin. It was pretty organized. 

After we left, we talked with the guide about the lives of the herders and the changes in the area. It is becoming more and more touristy.

He said Tibet is being more built up, and the people there and in China are being seriously affected by pollution. He told us that in Buddhist scriptures, humans' lifespans will decrease to ten years, then the future Buddha will come. That will be the end of the world. Already, his great grandfather lived to one hundred, and his grandfather lived to seventy. He says the lifespans of Tibetans are decreasing, so he doesn't think that the end of the world is that far off, especially when you can't drink the water or breathe the air. Some Chinese tourists to the area have never seen clean air, or, like our friends, stars. He said, Tibet is the rooftop of the world. When it gets to be like this (meaning China), the whole world is in trouble. 

... All of which recalls the fictional history of Shangri-La. Zhongdian might be becoming the opposite of its adopted name--not a refuge, but a place of rapid, dangerous development, like the rest of China (or the world). 

When we were walking back and approached the construction site, we came upon another stream. This one is downhill from the tunneling. I guess it's what a lot of the streams will look like soon.