Ruoergai, Continued

The tale of my Sichuan travels is written as a continuous story and starts on the entry "In Chengdu" on Nov. 5th, 2008. For context and continuity, feel free to start back at that point and read on forward first if you have not already done so.

After BaoZhu went on his way, we saw a couple middle-aged ladies came to pass. Larry complimented the one closer to him, and said, “What a pretty hat!” She turned around, pleased, and Larry started another conversation with them:

"Hello! Where are you folks from?"
"We are from Maoxian (茂縣)."
"Oh! We are travelers from Chengdu and will pass by Maoxian on the way back. Can we come visit?"
"Maybe, but today we need to walk 30+ km to Baxi. Our kids are studying there. Perhaps another day."
"Ah, so far! Have a safe journey! As for Maoxian, we will not get there today anyways. Maybe tomorrow or the day after."

Larry continued on with the conversation, and soon got their names. The one with the hat was Heishui Jinghua (黑水金花, the "Golden Flower" from "Blackwater" - apparently she doesn't have a last name, but she is from a place called Blackwater), and the other, her sister-in-law, was Yang Xiu Mei (杨秀妹). Heishui Jinghua was Tibetan, while Yang Xiu Mei was Qiang.

We invited them to eat with us, and they declined politely.
"But really, come on.. we have more food than we can finish! And it's hot and fresh - we just ordered lunch!"
"It's quite alright."
"It's only fair that we invite you to lunch if we're going to come visit."
"No, you don't have to..."
"Have you eaten yet?"
"Well no, but we just can't burden others like this."
"Don't you have a long journey ahead of you?"
"It's okay. We can manage."
"Well at least just come and sit inside with us to talk, even if you don't want to eat."
"Alright, sure."

And so they came in and sat down. Our food, which we ordered 40 minutes ago, finally started coming out. While we talked and ate, we encouraged them to eat as well, and while they finally ate a little bit of the Big Plate of Chicken just as a friendly gesture, they refused any more additional food.

Yang Xiu Mei and Heishui Jinghua were both affected by the Sichuan earthquake back on May 12th, as they lived in the countryside. They were up here to see family, but will need to go back in a couple days. We were quite interested because we hadn’t had a chance to see the impact of the earthquake yet, and so we said we would definitely try to come and visit. They welcomed us and invited us to eat with them once we arrived. So we exchanged contact information, and they urged us to call when we are in the neighborhood.



After our photo together, they left and went on their way. So next, we decided we should go visit the famous Tibetan temple (actually a complex containing a number of temples) nearby. Though the temple was not too far, Baba and I boarded a three-wheel rickshaw for the experience. Larry didn't want to pay money so he walked.



Halfway through, I thought of an idea, "Sir, do you think you can let me try to pedal the rickshaw?"
"I'm sorry, I don't think I can."
"Come on! I'll pay you the same, and you can just sit in the back and relax!"
"It's against the rules. If someone saw us, I could get in big trouble."
Baba was amused by the idea too. "It's okay! If you get fined, we'll pay it for you!"
"No, I really just can't afford to... Sorry!"

After a few minutes, the driver pedaled us to the temple entrance:



Monks were dressed in purple, which was interesting. We went into the complex visit, but it was just about closing time (around 4:30pm), so the buildings were inaccessible.



However, we managed to get up to the top of the highest temple there and snap a few pictures of the view:





Ruoergai really is a small outpost, and it's impressive how these hardy people managed to survive in the barren landscape.

Afterwards, we came back down to the base of the complex, where we noticed people were walking around a statue repeatedly:



They were exercising. We estimated that the statue was probably 4 meters by 4 meters, meaning one time around is 16 meters. 100 circles would get you one mile! I guess it's similar to a treadmill.

Baba decided to join them for a few rounds as well, for fun. As he passed by, he noticed there were strings of coins on the side.



They were counters. Every time around they would move one of the coins over to count their laps.

While Baba went around a few more laps, Larry, who had wandered off somewhere in the temple by himself, had come back.
"Are you guys enjoying the exercise?"
"We sure are."
"I'm going to head over to buy some fish over there."

He walked over, outside the temple, to a row of women selling fish swimming in buckets of water:



Baba had come back. "What's Larry up to?"
"He's going to go buy some fish for some reason."
"Oh yeah, he told me earlier. Apparently he's buying the fish to release them back into the wild."
"Oh yeah?"
"Unfortunately, the only place to release them is that stream under the bridge over there."
"I see."
"And of course, all the people selling the fish have to do is to recapture the fish downstream and sell them again to foolish people who want to save the fish!"
"Hahaha!"
"I knew Larry wasn't all that bright, but I didn't think he was this silly!" We roared with laughter, and walked over to watch Larry do his thing by the bridge:



After he released the fish, dropping it a good 20 feet to get back into the water, Larry explained himself, "I know the fish will probably be caught again, but it doesn't matter. It's the spirit of the gesture that counts."

Perhaps. But we're also supporting people who make a lame living by continuously capturing and re-capturing fish, then selling and re-selling it to people who want to free them.

We then crossed the bridge, over to the other side, which was a much less developed area. Up ahead, there was a small community of primitive houses behind a set of walls.

"Let's go visit some Tibetan houses," Larry suggested. We followed, not sure yet how to explain to the locals there that we were just here randomly to visit and take a look at their houses. But we let Larry handle that.

After we got in and wandered around for a few minutes, Larry spotted a villager and called to him. "Hey! We are visitors to Ruoergai! If you have time, will you introduce this place to us?" The man, one of the villagers, agreed. He took us to his home:



Where we were greated by a very fierce zang'ao (藏獒 - Tibetan Mastiff) chained to a post:





Tibetan Mastiffs are known as the one of the fiercest and most loyal dogs in the world, only obeying his master, and ruthlessly attacking all outsiders. The Tibetan man scolded his dog, hitting it with a stick as it tried to break its chain by sprinting towards us, barking ferociously.

We walked past the dog safely, and to the house, which had animal bones hanging from the roof. We entered:



It was not very big, but quite colorful, as many Tibetan designs are. The man continued to show us around for a bit more before we took our leave and headed out of the village.

As we walked out of the village, we noticed there were a ton of schoolkids coming out.



Some kids were walking, others were hanging out by the store:



School had let out, and there were kids with their colorful coats and bookbags, coming out in whichever direction, all heading home, which was generally in the same direction as us. Larry went to say hi to them, and the kids gathered around him curiously:



More and more kids come, trying to see what the commotion is all about:



"Hello! How are you?" Larry asked them in Mandarin. They were too shy to answer. "You guys speak Mandarin, right?" They nodded. "What are you guys studying?" One of the kids took out a book out of his schoolbag and handed it to Larry. "I see! Let me read to you!"



After Larry finished reading, in dramatic fashion, one of the poems out of their textbooks, the kids clapped their hands in approval. Then they took a group picture:



"Can you guys show me where your school is? I want to go take a look." The kids led Larry to the school courtyard:



While Larry continued hanging out with the kids, Baba and I decided to take a rickshaw back first. However, a few minutes later, Larry also came back, riding his own three-wheeler!



"How'd you get permission to ride?" we asked in amazement.
"I met this nice lady who let me borrow her rickshaw!" He was carrying the lady, the owner of the cart, in the back.

I gave it a try as well; however, it was difficult to control, as the steering wheel had a tendency to turn to the left side all the time. A steady hand is needed to hold it straight. After a few minutes, I managed to get around successfully:



We headed back to the hotel afterwards. While we were quite full so we didn’t really want to get dinner, our feet were rather tired from all the walking around.
"Why don't we get a foot washing?" suggested Baba.
"Where do you find them around here?" I asked.
"I saw one earlier in the day when we dropped by the ATM; it's not too far from the hotel. However, when I went to take a look, the front desk people weren't too nice and didn't look like they were interested in getting any business."
"Where else then?"
"There's probably tons of places around here, though it's important to separate out the legitimate places from the shady ones. We just have to go out and take a look," Larry responded.

So we head back out of the hotel to look. As we got to the main street, we found another three-wheeled rickshaw driver.
"Do you know where we can find a place to get a foot washing?"
"Yes I do."
"Where is it?"
"Get on. I'll take you there."
"Why don't you just tell me?"
"You'll have to ride to find out."
"How much are you charging?"
"Just 3 RMB. One for each person."
"You want all three of us to get on? How will we fit??"
"It won't be a problem."

We get on, the three of us clumped together, standing in the vehicle, as it wouldn't fit us sitting down. The driver managed to pedal us around the corner... and seconds later, we arrived at the foot washing place by the ATM!
"No, this place won't do!" Baba cried. "They have bad service. We'll have to go somewhere else."
"Alright," the driver said. He pedaled back to the main road, and then took it towards the end, to the other side of town.

We saw nothing on the way, and as we neared the end of the street, facing the pitch black emptiness ahead of us, it became apparent that our driver didn't know of any other places. "It looks like there aren't any more places. I'll just bring you back to where I picked you up," he said, resigned. At that point we spontaneously burst into laughter.

"Poor guy!" howled Baba, as the man struggled to pedal us back. We were probably over 500 pounds in total, and he had already pedaled 10 minutes. All for 3 RMB.

We hummed songs as he pedaled, perhaps in a subconscious effort to comfort him. Instead, it probably only added to his misery, highlighting the difference between our conditions.

We finally got back. The driver had pedaled 15 minutes without getting us anywhere, after his scheme to rip us off by charging us 3 RMB to pedal us around the corner backfired. He slouched his shoulders forward, exhausted. Baba paid him 50% tip - 4.5 RMB total ($0.70 USD) - for the experience.



We headed back to the hotel and discussed our plans. Referring to the map, a picture I had taken at the bus station,



we plotted out the rest of the trip. "The main thing I'd like to do is to take a look at the areas hit by the Sichuan earthquake," I stated.
"The epicenter is near Wenchuan and Dujiangyan. Let's take this route - it'll get us to the heart of the earthquake," Larry suggested. He pointed out the road that goes back to Songpan (松潘), then down to Maoxian (茂線), Wenchuan (汶川), Dujiangyan (都江堰), and finallY Chengdu(成都).

According to the map, the distances were:
143km Ruoergai (若爾蓋) - Chuanzhushi (川主寺)
17km Chuanzhushi (川主寺) - Songpan (松潘)
140km Songpan (松潘) - Maoxian (茂縣)
44km Maoxian (茂縣) - Wenchuan (汶川)
94km Wenchuan (汶川) - Dujiangyan (都江堰)
52km Dujiangyan (都江堰) - Chengdu (成都)

"How will we get there?" Baba asked.
"Why don't we hitchhike?" I suggested. "We haven't gotten to do that yet."
"Let's do it then! Tomorrow I will show you how it's done."

Portrait of BaoZhu

The tale of my Sichuan travels is written as a continuous story and starts on the entry "In Chengdu" on Nov. 5th, 2008. For context and continuity, feel free to start back at that point and read on forward first if you have not already done so.

We soon met an affable older gentleman. His name was 寶珠 (BaoZhu, translates to "Precious Jewel," a somewhat peculiar name for him, even in Chinese), and he was a herdsmen in the Ruoergai area.

Larry started speaking to him in Sichuanese, and while I understood most of what Larry was saying, it was harder to catch BaoZhu's accent. He had a tendency to say, “Oh ja!” a lot. It was apparently the lingo up here, the way to say good, or to express some kind of positive affirmation.

What I could make out from the conversation is that he owns 200 heads of cattle, and is from Baxi, a town about 30-40km (20-25 miles) to the east of Ruoergai. What made him more interesting is he had the opportunity to travel around when he was in the army for six years, starting back in 1962. He went all over China, and thus his perspective was wider, less provincial.

Anyhow, he was explaining what it was like to live up in Northern Sichuan. The living conditions are rough, as the air is thin and dry, and there’s not much around. Because of the poor living conditions, many Tibetans also suffer from some kind of fairly uncommon disease, which causes their joints to swell uncomfortably.

As we talked, people gather around us to see what the commotion was all about. They were curious to see outsiders talking to locals. Another Tibetan stopped by, and Larry started to talk to him too, but it was apparent he did not have the same level of education or broadness of experience. He soon left us. Meanwhile, I was left with BaoZhu for a few minutes, and asked him a couple questions. He understood me and responded, but I couldn’t really make out what he was saying, so I just nodded and smiled.

Larry and Baba turned their attention back to BaoZhu, and Baba asked him why he wears his coat on only one shoulder. He replied that sometimes it gets too hot outside, and so he take it off partway, but doesn’t want to take it all the way off in case it gets cold again. Also, having an arm free from the coat makes it easier to do things with that arm. We though it was indeed a very interesting and potentially good idea, so we decided to try it ourselves:

Then we saw the idea wasn’t BaoZhu’s - we looked around, and saw almost everyone in Ruoergai was wearing the same style! We were amazed; it was hilarious how we did not notice.



Two guys walked down the street towards us, with half a coat on, dressed like characters out of a wuxia novel. A few women passed by, also dressed in the same style.

We asked BaoZhu if he wanted to eat, but he said he had already eaten. So we bid him farewell, and continued our search for dining company.

Looking for Hungry People in Ruoergai

The tale of my Sichuan travels is written as a continuous story and starts on the entry "In Chengdu" on Nov. 5th, 2008. For context and continuity, feel free to start back at that point and read on forward first if you have not already done so.

In the morning, despite our original plans, Larry woke us up early. "I have an idea, let's go to Ruoergai (若爾蓋)!"
"Where is that?" I grumbled, still half-asleep.
"It's a couple hours to the northwest of Songpan by car. I've never been there but heard it's quite interesting. Lots of Tibetan and Qiang minorities. And I met a driver who is willing to take us there for 40 RMB a person!"
"What about the lawyers?"
"They'll understand... we'll just tell them later. I'm sure the two of them will have a great time going horseback riding in Songpan."

And so the three of us got our stuff ready, and headed down to the car, a "bread van." The driver was a Mr. Kemu (克木), and he was taking a bunch of people (we were 6 people total) with him. I dropped one of the lawyers a text message while in the car, wishing them a safe journey. We were on our unexpected way once again.

Larry then brought out the bread he had bought this morning in Songpan. It was a huge loaf (or perhaps pie or cake, given the shape), and it only costs 5 RMB. We shared the bread for breakfast, but could not come close to finishing:



On the ride, as the elevation was ever-increasing, we saw plenty of yaks, also called maoniu (毛牛) in Chinese (it translates to "hairy cow"), grazing in the fields:



As we neared Ruoergai, Mr. Kemu veered off the main road – apparently he didn’t want to pay the 30 RMB toll up at the both ahead (to the left):



Instead, he headed for the side dirt path (on the right) that only costs 5 RMB, which he paid to a local:



This dirt path was extremely bumpy, though luckily it was quite short and just a cut around the tollbooth station. In a few minutes, we arrived in Ruoergai.

Mr. Kemu and the passengers alighting the "bread van:"



This is Ruoergai. At first glance, it looks like a small frontier town:



Of course, it has a much different from most Chinese towns, and even Songpan, which is just two hours away. Ethnic minorities roam the streets; they had dark skin, but red cheeks, due to the high altitude. There seems to be lots of idlers just hanging out by the main road, perhaps they were waiting for transportation or just had nothing better to do, but it seemed like a troublesome town. Police cars patrolled the streets regularly. Maybe it was just me, but it seems like there was tension in the air.

We go and use the bathroom by the bus station, which costs 1 RMB.



Though usually people have to pay me to use restrooms of this quality. I let them off the hook this time.

We looked around for a place to stay. The cheap hostels unfortunately also had terrible bathrooms and no showers. We could have done it, but Baba didn't feel like roughing it again. Instead, we found a nice 3 star hotel:



We negotiated down the price to 160 RMB for a room that would fit the three of us, as it is off-season. After dropping our stuff off, we head over to eat lunch at a restaurant on the main road. The selection was pasted on the wall:



Larry recommended the Big Plate of Chicken (大盤雞), which by itself, was enough for the three of us. However, Baba wanted some of Xinjiang's famous Hand-Grabbed Lamb (手抓羊) and a ramen, while I wanted to have some 羊肉泡沫 (Lamb Paomou, a noodle soup with bread dippings instead), which I still remember from my trip to Xi'an (西安) four years ago. We asked the owner if there was a smaller size for the Big Plate of Chicken – he said there was, but it was only 45 RMB instead of 50 RMB for a small "Big Plate of Chicken." Given there wasn’t much difference in price, there was no point.

To break the impasse, I suggested, "Why don't we just go find some people to eat with us?"
Larry asked, “Who? It’s already close to 2pm!” I saw a beggar outside the shop:



He was missing half of a leg but I'm sure he was still hungry. So I said, “I know there are beggars outside the street. Maybe we can invite them in."
Larry disagreed, “No! We have to be very careful, lest they ruin the atmosphere. You never know what kind of character you would bring in on the street!”

“Well I’m sure there’s someone still hungry. Let's go look anyhow... after all, this is your specialty!”
“My specialty??!” Larry laughed good-naturedly. So we placed our order for all four dishes even though we knew we had no chance to finish it ourselves.

Larry and I headed out of the restaurant to look for potential diners. On the main street there were the usual suspects, people waiting around and being idle. I asked Larry if any of them will do. “No, I don't think so. We must be wary of the people around the train station. But maybe we can wait around for backpackers to get off the bus. They are the safest.”
I was skeptical. “At this time of the day?”
“Perhaps there are still buses that come in.”
“Okay, but we don’t know when the next one will come.”
“You see, the main problem is, it’s already close to 2pm. Everyone has eaten who wants to eat...”
“I'm sure that is not true... perhaps most people have eaten but surely there are still some who have not.”

All we needed was someone hungry in this city and who is pleasant enough to provide good conversation and not to ruin our atmosphere. We looked around desperately. Time was running out, and we were hungry. Could we find someone before our meal arrives?

Birthday on the road in Songpan & Mounigou

The tale of my Sichuan travels is written as a continuous story and starts on the entry "In Chengdu" on Nov. 5th, 2008. For context and continuity, feel free to start back at that point and read on forward first if you have not already done so.

And so we met up at 8am at the front lobby before heading out to Songpan (松潘), our first stop. While we ate the breakfast noodles, the two taxi drivers we had reserved were already at the hostel with their cars. Shortly after, the 8 of us - Larry, Baba, Jerry, Dou, Li, Wei, Kang, and Jin - piled into the two cars for the two hour drive.

On the way we stopped for a few scenic pictures.

Highway winding through the mountains:

Baba and Larry in a "photo duel":



After a few stops for the paying bathroom and clementine oranges, we arrived at Songpan and its spectacular city walls.

North Gate. A statue of Princess Wencheng (文成公主) and Tibetan King Songtsän Gampo (松贊干布) stands in front of the entrance, commemorating the political union that brought peace between the Tang Dynasty and the Tibetan people:



Inside the walled city:



We didn't get much time to tour Songpan since the girls were running short on time, as their flight was scheduled to leave at around 3:30-4pm. Instead, we decided to proceed first to Mounigou (牟尼溝) and come to Songpan on the way back, as it was on the road back anyhow. Mounigou, like Jiuzhaigou, is also a "gou" (溝) or gully, and it is split into two parts, a collection of lakes called ErDaoHai (二道海) and Zhaga Waterfall (扎嘎瀑布). We decided to go to Erdaohai first:



Tickets were 140 RMB for both sites, though slightly more expensive (perhaps 75 or 80 RMB) for only visiting ErDaoHai or Zhaga Waterfall. However, when we arrived, we discovered we were pretty much the only ones there. In addition, there doesn't seem to be much development on the site for tourists. For example, the roads, compared to the nicely laid walkways of Jiuzhaigou, were muddy paths:

Maybe Mounigou is always this quiet and uncommercialized. Or maybe it was just that time of the year:

While we did not know at the time, that was part of the charm of Mounigou. No one was there - we were in a secluded - almost seemingly private - environment, alone with Nature, for our own viewing pleasure.

As we walked onwards in the mud-trodden path for the first mile or so without seeing anything but barren trees in the snow, the girls were starting to question whether there was anything at all worth seeing. Ahead, a couple other visitors were coming towards us the other way. We greeted them and asked them if there was anything worth going ahead for.

"Oh yes, there definitely is!" one of them responded.
"It absolutely gorgeous!" the other quipped.

Spurred on by the encouraging signs, we marched ahead, and after another few hundred meters, we finally came upon the lakes:



The waters there were still. Perfectly calm. No ripples, running waters in or out of the lake. They were so green and clear, so serene.



The colors weren't as bright and varied as those found in Jiuzhaigou, but the shades were different and beautiful in their own way.





Some of the lakes had just a thin sheet of ice starting to form on top:



In other areas with moving water, the effect, though on a much smaller scale, is similar to Jiuzhaigou's "water overflooding the forest" scenery:



Here the water is very clear, and deceivingly shallow:



However, the water level does seem lower than it's supposed to be. For example, according to the maps, there should be a real lake here instead of a "grass lake":

Finally, we made it up to the top, where there was a public hot (or rather, cold) springs:

The girls didn't really have time to enjoy it, and so I walked down with them to ensure they would make it on time to catch their plane. On the way back down, we took a slightly different path, and managed to see some new scenery. There were a couple lakes with very blue waters:

And one that, perhaps due to the lighting, looks like florescent green:

Towards the end, Wei spotted a small Tibetan boy sitting alone in the grass. We went to say hello, but he doesn't talk to strangers:



We got back down to the bottom of the park and accompanied them to the taxi. After saying goodbyes, I rushed back up to the top (which was not easy, given the elevation was still at 3,000meters+ / over 10,000 feet) and back to the spring. It was empty, as before:

Baba had already tried it and gave his full recommendation: it was the best experience on the trip so far! He had already told the lawyers, who had tried it earlier and loved it as well. In fact, he said he wouldn't mind going again. And so we jumped in:

Immediately, the sensation of the slightly chilly water hit me, but that was barely noticeable compared to what I felt next: pain shooting up through my entire skin! The bath had NaHCO3 in it, and the carbonated water made it feel like as if I was being stabbed with sharp needles all over my body. I was basically bathing in soda water! The strongest sensation was on the eyelids when I stuck my head underwater. Unable to swim for a more than a few strokes, and unable to stand the pain for more than a few minutes, I got out, feeling exhilaratingly refreshed.

We got out and tried the indoor springs as well. The bubbles there were even more vicious, and I got out after no more than a minute. It's amazing how exposure to non-damaging pain will make normality feel so wonderful.

Afterwards, we rushed back down to catch the lawyers going back down to the entrance. We met up at the taxi and took the car to the entrance of Zhaga Waterfall:

The first part of the waterfall resembled Jiuzhaigou once again, with water overrunning a forest of trees:

But unlike Jiuzhaigou, we were once again, the only folks there at the time. Continuing on, we see Zhaga Waterfall itself, the largest calcified waterfall in China:

Towards the top, there was a cavern under the waterfall. It was called Water Curtain Cavern:



Legend has it that Sun Wukong (水帘洞), the Monkey King from the classic Chinese novel Journey to the West (西遊記) used the lair as the place to train and rest. When we went back, Larry, who had gone with the girls in the taxi to the airport, asked, "How did you like Zhaga Waterfall?"
"It was alright, pretty nice... though the springs at ErDaoHai were much better!" we answered.
"That's because you don't know how to enjoy Zhaga Waterfall," he said smugly.
"What do you mean?"
"Did you know... you can rush to thru the waterfall to get into Water Curtain Cavern?? That's what I did once! It was absolutely exhilarating! So much fun!"

We looked at each other, not sure whether to believe our crazy friend.

We got back to Songpan for a meal together at a Hui Muslim restaurant. The food was quite flavorful, but they added too much MSG. We treated one of our drivers, Mr. Luo (羅東), to the meal as well.

We reflected on our trip thus far. We all enjoyed Mounigou, and compared and contrasted it with Jiuzhaigou. Larry drew an analogy – while Jiuzhaigou is the flashy, popular, ostentatious celebrity, Mounigou is like the quiet yet sweet little beauty, charming in her own way.

As the meal finished, Larry brought out the birthday cake that he somehow had managed to procure in Songpan:

They sang the birthday song, and after I blew out the candles and made my wishes, we headed out to walk around Songpan, enjoying the scenery at night:



Then we headed over to the hostel, where Larry managed to negotiate a special price. It was off-season, but for 25 RMB per person, with electrical blankets and hot water, this hostel was way too nice!

The day was a fine way to start my 26th year.