The Silk Road: Dunhuang

There is no direct train to Dunhuang. The Dunhuang train station is actually 2 hours away from Dunhuang city by bus. So I thought it would make more sense just to take the bus straight from Jiayuguan to Dunhuang. Lets Go said it was a 4-5 hour ride.

That was a mistake. Turns out the highway was either under renovation or under construction. In any case, they are in the process of building a nice, new superhighway. But it's not finished, so the bus instead parallels the highway the whole way on bumpy gravel desert roads. Bus ride lasted 10 hours. Not too terribly fun.

But at least I could converse with my seat neighbor. He was Chinese-born but lives in Ohio where he is an artist. Across the aisle was a female Buddhist monk. I'd never seen a female monk before and in fact didn't know there was such a thing. Like male monks, she had a shaved head, but instead of wearing a saffron robe, hers was pale blue. She got off the bus in the middle of the desert and started walking into the mountains where her monastery was located.

Dunhuang is the next major stop along the Silk Road. It is set in the middle of a sprawling oasis, but the town is actually quite small and compact and easily walkable. Most of the oasis is dedicated to farming. This lush, verdant, agriculturally productive land strikes quite a contrast with the surrounding desert. Northwest China is full of oases like this. Some are fed by springs, which bubble up from under the desert. Others are the product of ingenious, centuries-old irrigation systems which capture snowmelt from the high mountain ranges ringing the deserts. As I wandered through the farmland today I was constantly coming across irrigation ditches and channels and full-fledged rivers rushing with clear, cool water. The result is an abundance of produce, especially fruit. Melons, grapes, peaches, cherries, and a special fruit unique to Dunhuang, a hybrid apricot-plum.     On my first full day in Dunhuang, I went to the Magao Caves, 28 km outside of town. I don't like taking taxis, so I rented a bicycle and made the 56 km round trip trek across the desert by myself. The first 14 km were through the agricultural land, the second 14 on a dead-straight road across the desert, all the while starring at a range of desert mountains straight ahead, and the Mingshan sand dunes off to the right. At one point, the sand dunes had blown clear across the road, engulfing it in their wind-carved formation. But I reached the caves easily enough, fueled by a bag of dried apricots. This might sound dangerous, but the heat was not excessive, the road was well-paved, I had water, the bike was a mountain bike, and I was never that far from civilization.

The Magao Grottoes contain what are reputedly some of the best examples of Buddhist cave paintings in the world. The entrance fee of 120 yuan ($15) included an English language guide. There are over 700 small caves carved into the face of the cliffs. Over 400 of them contain paintings and sculptures. The artwork was created between 1000 and 2000 years ago by monks and painters-in-residence who also lived in the caves. The other folks on my tour included a Chinese American mom and her son, the man from Ohio, and a couple from New York. Turns out the mom was the webmistress for Harvard's History Department website during the same time I was in the department! Our tour guide, "Daisy" took us to about 10 of the 400 caves, but that was plenty. They are certainly impressive, but it gets repetitive after a while. Lots of Buddhas, demons, animals, and scenes depicted from Buddhist scripture. Over the years many of the colors have oxidized, leaving once-brilliant colors now black and brown. But the sheer magnitude of some of the paintings, and the fact they were all created by hand so long ago, and that they’ve lasted all this time, is awe-inspiring. And, the caves were a nice respite from the summer heat. The largest Buddha is 35 meters tall and is labeled the "Third Largest Sitting Buddha in China." China seems to have a ranking system for Buddhas  - there is presumable a 1st, 2nd, and 3rd largest sitting Buddha, as well as a 1st, 2nd, 3rd largest standing Buddha, reclining Buddha, etc. I was only as tall as the Buddha's foot. You won't see any photos of the caves on my photo website because photography was prohibited.

There is some interesting history associated with the discovery of the caves. They were discovered by a monk in 1900, along with a treasure trove of ancient manuscripts hidden in one cave. The monk sold many of these manuscripts to enhance his personal wealth, and gave others to corrupt officials. Then the Western archaeologists began to arrive. They came from Britain, France, Russia, Japan, and the United States and plundered the much of the museum-worthy manuscripts and works of art. To this day, you can see Magao artwork in the British Museum, the Metropolitan Museum, and the Louvre. I also learned that a leading Harvard art history professor and director of Harvard art museums (who apparently is the inspiration for a character in "The Da Vinci Code", which I still have yet to read or see) came to Magao in 1924 to personally loot.. What a proud legacy my alma mater has left in this sacred place! It sounds a bit like the plot of an Indiana Jones movie come true. I wonder how many such objects in the museums of the Western countries around the world have similarly sordid histories of acquisition. In any case, I don’t blame the Chinese for resenting the fact that so many of their historical and cultural artifacts are currently displayed throughout the West rather than in China. I later got into an argument with a young British guy I met in Kashgar, who argued that the British and other Western archaeologists were completely justified in taking China’s (and other non-Western countries’) artifacts. Part of his argument belied a degree of cultural chauvinism, I thought, but I admitted that he did have a valid point that much of this art probably owes its continued existence and preservation today to the fact that it was not in China during the Cultural Revolution (or World War II, or any other number of disturbances that could have destroyed it).

My first reaction to the Dunhuang sand dunes was one of disappointment. The dunes themselves are highly impressive, waves of sand rising perhaps 100 feet. But the dunes have been heavily commercialized. It’s $10 just to enter the sand dunes, at which point you can pay to rent a camel, dune buggy, jeep, or glider. I decided to see if I could find a way to access the sand dunes without going through the tourist entrance. I walked through dry river bed skirting the periphery of town which flowed roughly in the direction of the dunes. I later realized that the riverbed veered much more westward than I wanted, so my trip to the dunes took quite some time. Finally, when the dunes were within site, I ran into an irrigation channel that was too deep and too fast to cross, so I backtracked again until I found a makeshift bridge crossing it at a sluice gate. By the time I reached the dunes, it was 8 o’clock at night, but the sun was still high because of our western location in the Chinese time zone. These dunes were devoid of the trappings of the tourist economy. Not only was there no one charging entrance fees; there was no one there, period. I crossed some of the low lying dunes and was surprised to see an oasis of agriculture nestled amidst the dunes. Apricots and plums grew.

I next made a poor decision. With only a half a bottle of water left, I undertook to try to climb to the top of the highest dune. The only way to climb a dune is by sprinting up it, or else you can't get any traction. After a few minutes of this I had exhausted myself. I wanted so much to reach the top, to enjoy the triumph of reaching the top, see the view, and then relax in the shade on the other side. But a little voice in the back of my head told me that that was a bad idea. I was already feeling parched, and I've heard of people dying in the desert from over-exertion and dehydration. So I descended and left the magical dunes behind (got some good pictures, though) and retreated into the shade of the oasis. Soon I was walking through villages. The structures were traditional desert architecture - mud huts and thatched roofs, and there were animals all about - donkeys, camels, sheep, goats, chickens. I stopped at one of the houses and the friendly residents brought me a tea kettle full of water. The mother filled my arms with those delicious apricot-plums. I saw several men on motorcycles or bicycles leading their camels home from the tourist zone. Then a man offered me a ride on his motorcycle. I can’t complain about the friendliness and hospitality in this part of the world!

At 9 o'clock I watched the sun set over the dunes. Then back to Dunhuang for dinner at the night market, where I met a young woman from San Francisco.