Fabienne in Asia

And it begins with tales from northwestern China. Actually, this will be the first and probably only China entry for a few months. I’ve decided to head down to southeast Asia for the unforeseeable future, leaving next Friday and arriving in Bangkok at midnight. So, China stories…

Xiahe: A Taste of Tibet
A small village at the end of a bumpy ride through mountains and terraced hills, some so vertical that the grazing goats, sheep, and yaks must come uniquely crafted with spidey sense.
What struck me most were the people. The women all wear big jewelry — thick silver necklaces studded with turquoise, and earrings so heavy that they dangle them with string, like a glasses strap, around their heads and over their ears. Forcing the weight of these through piercings would probably cause the lobes to pull right off. The men – the Tibetan men who aren’t monks – are cowboys. They wear full length winter robes over their daily clothes (sometimes jeans) and when the weather is warm enough one might free an arm or two from the sleeves for easier dealings with money and motobikes. If this is the case, the robe, half-on, is held up around the waist with a wide leather belt. The belt doubles as a great holster for a dagger or a cell phone. They drink tall bottles of Chinese beer, wear Tibetan cowyboy boots, and although this is probably completely fictionalized, I like to think that most of them ride wild horses across the grasslands and into every sunset. Let me have that one.
I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such a blend of modernity and tradition. The men – and women, since they’re the ones who actually wear the cowboy hats (over the blackest, richest, most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen) – who aren’t cowboys are monks. Seeing as the town exists for the monastery, the monks are everywhere.
For Tibetans of the Yellow Hat Sect, aptly named because the monks wear banana-shaped, mustard-coloured hats, Xiahe is the most important location outside of Tibet. Many buddhists make pilgrimages to Xiahe from all corners of China, portstrating themselves the entire way. Tibetan buddhism is also much more freely practised in Xiahe than it is in Tibet. So, like I said, monks are everywhere. The streets are bright with monks in maroon robes and fuschia shawls, walking to and from the monastery, or riding past on motorbikes, or chatting on cell phones, or fixing telephone wires.
There was a lot more to the Xiahe trip: cycling out to the grasslands through herds of sheep and their ambling sheperds; riding horses in the grasslands; drinking yak butter tea; the miles of prayer wheels; the ancient city of Bajiao which hasn’t really changed in 2000years; the mountains. But mostly it was the people. The image of one lone monk in bright robes, twenty feet above the ground, fixing telephone wires, is one that will be with me for a long time.

Dunhuang: Silk Road Sand and Other Events
To orient you all: 14 hours by train from Xiahe, in northwestern China, right on the edge of the Gobi Desert, so much on the edge that I woke up more than one morning with a bed full of sand and something gritty in my teeth.
Dunhuang is known in the guide books for its proximity to the Mogao Caves, a series of buddhist grottoes that were built over the span of 1000+ years, beginning in 366 AD. They were saved from destruction during the Cultural Revolution on strict orders from premier Zhou Enlai, so the story goes. Apparently he liked them, but some also say that they were preserved for so long because they’re so damn remote, being at the edge of the Gobi Desert, as they are. The caves were used as a barracks by the White Russians in the 1920s who lobbed off a few noses froma couple of Buddha statues and left their names scrawled on the walls but didn’t do much more damage. It’s remarkable how well the art and craftsmandship witnessed in the caves has withstood time.
The caves were astounding in a way that I probably won’t ever be able to fully appreciate or understand. It’s like the Great Wall – who can really wrap their mind around thousands of years of labour and art and detail? If you are a history buff who is ever considering a trip to China, this place should be on your list. If you don’t fall into that category, visit Dunhuang anyway, just to play in the dunes.
The dunes rise up at the end of town and appear to continue forever. Since they’re profitable for the Chinese, a gate was constructed in front of the dunes, complete with a ticket booth, officials with walkie talkies, and an 80 RMB fee. 80 RMB is only 13 CDN dollars, but when put into perspective it’s an outrageous amount of money, especially since the desert has been where it has been for thousands of years, and it’s only expanding. We evaded costs the first time by sneaking through a hole in the fence about 1/2 a km from the gate. There was some barbed wire involved and a cardboard box full of dead mice, but we made it onto the sand without a detour to a Chinese prison. We took our shoes off, tobogganed down the dunes (I took care of the necessary wipe out), and went paragliding. Our teacher was a charming young man whose only words of English were, ‘Runrunrunrun…fly. No jump!’ Those were his strict instructions for the take-off, anyway. He didn’t cover the landed process. So I did, or it covered me. You can view my pictures for the result of that little undertaking. In the words of Terry Mckall, “Some things never change, no matter how far away you go.”
While Julie enjoyed the sun and the passing camels, I climbed the dunes for a better view, and for the sand on my feet, and, although I didn’t know it at the time, for the tiny sand lizards I met along the way.
Of course we stayed for the sunset.
Other Dunhuang events: a sandstorm; an Australian we kidnapped and dragged around with us for the length of our stay (he actually partook quite willingly , especially in the sandstorm and the Chinese beer); some Chinese officials who caught us sneaking in the second time, during the sandstorm, and who threw us out, despite Julie’s fantastic explanation, in charades, of how the storm carried our tickets of in the wind and into the vast desert beyond; another sunset; a bike ride into the desert; a decision to leave China for Cambodia.
Cambodia feels like the place that I’ve always needed to go, ever since my Mom came home with my brother when I was six years old. I’ve promised him to take many pictures ‘of interesting things’. ‘No boring pictures’, his orders. I’ll see if I can hold a 15-year-old boy’s interest. I think I’ll probably spend the time between now and Christmas in Cambodia and Laos, possibly doing some volunteer work, definitely exploring, heading off on my own. It’s just something that I have to do. There’ll be some riding in their too. And I’d like to spend at least a few days underwater with an oxygen tank and great goggles.
I hope you are all happy and breaking out in a few random fits of laughter a week.

-Fab . Oh, and check out my pictures:

Tags: Travel

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