Retribution on the Grasslands

We had wanted to visit the remote Tibetan areas of Sichuan having read an article in The Syndey Morning Herald, our local newspaper, on Kangding and the Litang Horse Festival held in early August. The term remote is relative for no matter how "remote" we travelled in China there was always mobile phone reception.

Bamei Grasslands

Our first stop after leaving Danba was the Bamei (Eight Beauties) Grasslands - a tranquil collection of rolling lush green hills. The sky again was a stunning deep blue with light cloud cover.  The homes, ranging from brick, replete with satellite dishes, to more rustic black-coloured tents, were sparsely arrayed on the hillsides. Smoke lazily rose from the tents we could see (the fires were for cooking & warmth; they weren't on fire!). Stupas were draped with colourful prayer flags which fluttered in the crisp morning wind. Solitary and pairs of locals approached the bus, seemingly materialising from nowhere, asking for donations. Time to leave. 

Apparently the grasslands haven't always been so tranquil. Warring Tibetans have fought bloody battles here. Raiders from Litang would journey to Bamei to steal horses. In another instance, the chief of one tribe stole the wife of the leader of a nearby tribe. Not surprisingly, the man wasn't happy that his beloved had been claimed by another.  Retaliation was brutal. The aggrieved tribal leader boldly entered the village where his wife was captive and hacked to pieces the wife of the thieveing chief. 

Further down the road, while we stopped to make use of the roadside bathroom facilities, more unkempt Tibetan kids with dirty clothes and wind-burnt faces caked with grime, gathered around the bus. We felt uncomfortable giving them money so offered somefood instead. We had bought some chocolate biscuits several days ago, biscuits that Grace was less then impressed with.  So Grace looked at me and said "Let's give them these chocolate biscuits. We've got planty of other things to eat". While this was technically true, the biscuits were tasty. "OK, but let me eat one more". And with that, they were gone - the kids and the chocolate biscuits! It was sad that the kids had to resort to begging to eke out a living.

Tagong Grasslands

The Bamei Grasslands meged seamlessly with the Tagong Grasslands.   The Tagong skyline was dominated by a large and elaborate Buddhist temple, intricate inlaid with gold that shimmered in the heat of the midday sun. The opulence of the temple contrasted with the poverty of the surrounding village. Tibetan men with long hair and cowboy hats would ask repeatedly "You want to ride a horse". Saddled horses milled by the roadside adjacent to the temple. A Tibetan woman stood alongside her mangy dog. Truck after truck rolled past throwing up plumes of dust in their wake. It was a scene from the wild west.

While most our tour group went for lunch, we decided to explore the golden monastery/temple. An imposing building. The reflected sunlight was painful to the eyes. The innermost part of the temple was locked and we needed to wait for the chief lama to open it for us. It was at this point that we were privy to disrespect shown by an old Han woman to the lama. She rudely and dismissively yelled out to the lama who was quietly eating his lunch, "Hurry up and open the gate. We want to go and eat ". An ugly side of tourism indeed. 

The flashy monastery we had seen was the "new" temple. Over the hill and around a bend was the "old" temple, at one end of Tagong Village.  A more modest structure. While we were in Tagong a convoy of military vehicles underpolice escort chugged through the main street. 

Mt. Zheduo

The highest point of the day was at Mt. Zheduo, marked by a stupa and pagoda at an altitude of 4298 meters. There were 360-degree views of the surrounding mountains and grasslands. This location is significant because it marks a gradual transition from Tibetan culture to that of Han Chinese culture in the surrounding regions.

A week ago "entry" to the pagoda was free. This week, to climb the stone staircase, in public land, costs 3 RMB per person. You can attempt to outrun the Tibetan guy with a brown coyboy hat collecting the fare, by charging up the stairs. But he's wilier than that. He waits until your descent and then pounces. One man from our tour group objected strongly to having to pay and had an animated argument with the Tibetan, characterised by raised voices and gesticulating. In the end, the Chinese man paid up like the rest of us.  

After this we stopped at another shrine important to Tibetan Buddhism, and saw the "first Tibetan residence" in the Tagong area. People were living in the place sowe could venture in.

Kangding

Our resting spot for the night was in Kangding, a town at the confluence of the Zheduo and Yala rivers. The town is well-known throughout China for a love song inspired by the magnificance of the surrounding scenery.

We ate two dinners in Kangding. The first "dinner" comprised chicken innards (we thought we had ordered chicken). Neither Grace could bring ourselves to eat the insides of a chicken. Instead we picked at the capsicum around the innards. With our appetite unsatisfied we went to another restaurant and ordered another chicken dish. This time we received tiny chicken pieces drowned in an oily sauce.  

It was pleasant to explore the town at night. The main street straddles the rushing waters of the Zheduo River and is lit by an eerie glow of orange-yellow lanterns. We retired to our hotel, the Kangliang Hotel, on Xi Da Street and could sleep after 11pm once the karaoke singing broadcast near the hotel stopped.