We just got back from spending two days up on the Shika Snow Mountain, a towering 4,450m that had hubby completely out snoring next to me. It was a quiet getting out of the town. We met up with our local guide, Dhamba, a Zhangsu who had the extreme profile of an Alpha male (he has two wives and he is only 22) that lived within a small community that burst with so much enthusiasm, "village rhythm a.k.a. come-and-have-a-cup-of-yak-butter-tea-first" and love. His loud, altitude-defying holler was very much comforting as he took us up the mountains over the past 48 hours, at times galloping fast up the dunes that we barely saw his shadow that marked the only indication that we were on the right path.His 40-something aunt came along. They hardly even spoke much Mandarin but we communicated well, they were happy to feed us, had our pride rightly put in place as they kicked our asses (so much for our running training days!) and we delighted in just observing how close the villagers behaved and connected. Dhamba and his aunt never stopped talking into the wee hours of the dark night, yet as we laid down inside our sleeping bags, snugged like worms, we could hear nothing but a language that was foreign to the human ear, yet reassuringly true to the heart.
The hike? It was awesome. I couldn't write more about its perfectness except that (without sounding like I went off the senses) at one point, it got me feeling a little bit... erm, spiritual? It was one with God, whoever or whatever that may mean to you. That was probably how I could put it best. It was a long hike that each went into their own "zone" - I certainly did - and I saw goodness around me. I found, if I may so bravely speculate, my own version of Shangri-la.
My Shangri-la. An awareness that was always there that I had somehow lost along the way when I got too busy chasing deadlines and foolish musings.
The nature was stunning. The stillness spectacular. The honesty? That I found was something I took along with me as I came back down to the comfort of my warm bed. I can hardly fathom that just a few hours ago, I was up somewhere, and I think just as the student was ready, so did the teacher emerge. I am completely knackered. But there is a kind of wonderful sense of achievement that is just too difficult to colour or put into flesh.My laundry hung around the room as I try valiantly to dry them up in time for our head-out to Sichuan, another night planned already for a youth hostel in Chengdu.
They say that "Shika" brings a meaning of a mountain plentiful with deers. We saw an empty casket of what was a yak's body, with only the skeletal remains left by a bear. I saw no deers but it was said that Sakyamuni began preaching Buddhism here, with two deers, enamoured with the compassion and gentleness of the Great One, listened attentively in knee-down position. This has been widely displayed in many golden carvings and statues in the many temples that we went to during our stay here. In Tibetan Buddhism, it is perhaps one of the biggest symbol of dharma adherence. 
It's strategically located along the ancient Cha Ma (tea, horse) route and I can only imagine that this added to the luster and allure of this rugged landscape that many called home.
I leave this place with a kind of longing that is akin to perhaps, a question mark if I would return. Maybe I should stop the melancholy and retire to the realms of my dreams. Sleep I definitely need, and just that I may also be lucky to glimpse a sight of my own little fable land of purity and peace.
