"... at some point something must have come from nothing ..."
We woke this morning to the bleating of the tofu vendor calling out in the local, heavily thicked accent, like a really well aged casket of barley wine. Funny how life could change so much in a span of few days when we would have woken up to the gentle thundering of hooves on the wet carpet ground that we laid out heads for the night, protected from the icy cold only by a sheer layer of tent. The horses were early for their morning feed. If these muffled gallops could be summed up in a cup of coffee, then I will be greeted by a brew made of a rich baritone whilst the gentle bells they wore over their necks tingled in a ghostly tempo when their muscled forms tore through the cold mist.
Our time in Songpan began with a rough ride through the earthquaked-torn aftermath of rebuilding. Roads shot through the valleys like new arteries popping out in search to deliver new life into towns that had seen a history of trade and military importance. This is after all, a part of the Cha Ma route. A classic Chinese town with local pockets of minorities that called themselves "minorities" yet their faces betrayed their stock of the Tibetan kind, whereas Hui Muslims gathered in their own quarters while the rest of the world, that left you and me and the majority Han blood mixing around in a loud street of herbs, vegetables, noon-time prayers of the faithfuls (a truly wonderful mosque built in the fashion of the late Ming and Qing styles still stood brightly in the sun), noodles and two tired backpackers. Yak spaghetti bolognaise had never tasted so fine.
The hike up to 5,500m's Ice Mountain took over three days. We camped and made fire with three local guides. Only much later we discovered (after too many rice wine and cigarettes on their part) that they were Chinese. Although language was no barrier, they were not very upfront and friendly beyond cooking and hurrying us along the trek. Met three Israeli boys that were a pleasure to know and we both learned a lot more about their culture and socio-political struggle in three days than thirty years of my living in a media-censcored Malaysia regarding the Palestinian issue. Travel is wonderful when you keep an open mind. You meet so many mixes from the Middle Eastern part of travel-bitten like-minded and at the end of the day, they weren't any too different from you and me. We exchanged stories and quirks, we shared solidarity when one amongst us fell off the horse.
The hike up to 5,500m's Ice Mountain took over three days. We camped and made fire with three local guides. Only much later we discovered (after too many rice wine and cigarettes on their part) that they were Chinese. Although language was no barrier, they were not very upfront and friendly beyond cooking and hurrying us along the trek. Met three Israeli boys that were a pleasure to know and we both learned a lot more about their culture and socio-political struggle in three days than thirty years of my living in a media-censcored Malaysia regarding the Palestinian issue. Travel is wonderful when you keep an open mind. You meet so many mixes from the Middle Eastern part of travel-bitten like-minded and at the end of the day, they weren't any too different from you and me. We exchanged stories and quirks, we shared solidarity when one amongst us fell off the horse.
Other than that, the three guides at times (when they pushed too hard in rushing us past our ascent to "get back to base camp"... when a girl wants to take a few minutes staring at Ice Mountain, you let her, get it?) were rude, I felt a pang of guilt being of Han lineage. I felt like if I could, right there I would slit my wrists and pour out all traces of Han blood. Yes, it was a monetary transaction when we engaged your services, but we were after all, five of us, travellers to see your country. Maybe right now wasn't such a good time to be lazy? That's what really irked me - the lack of passion about your job. I felt embarassed thinking what my fellow travellers could be thinking about how a Chinese conducts him / herself. And heck, don't get me started on how they treat their animals... You are a horse handler, a guide on this creature - do not under any circumstances, kick your vehicle. Horses aren't meant to be owned like a piece of chair.
What can I say? I think Gandhi was right. A country, and if I may add, a man is measured by how they treat their fellow creatures.
And what was it about horses that just beguile? When you looked down and saw that you're trespassing a terrain of yaks, pigs, wild pheasants, bears and mountain goats, and little separate your survival (and theirs) saved broken rocks, branches, mud and half a metre of path along a freefall cliff, you learned fast to trust your horse. These creatures of might, determination and a unique temperament took us all up to the spiky top, which opened up to a flat terrain (weird juxtapose but oh-so-pretty), and down. Of course, there was the occassional grunt and protest to rest, but I would not have any idea how I would have moved up there on my legs with all these camping gears. It was splitting cold, we needed all that we took, and our horses took most of the burden. I will always look at these local horse handlers, riding as one through the air like a mythical magic arrow that cut through and past gravity with an ease that fanned the admiration in all of us. How often an animal forgave what we did to it?
What can I say? I think Gandhi was right. A country, and if I may add, a man is measured by how they treat their fellow creatures.
And what was it about horses that just beguile? When you looked down and saw that you're trespassing a terrain of yaks, pigs, wild pheasants, bears and mountain goats, and little separate your survival (and theirs) saved broken rocks, branches, mud and half a metre of path along a freefall cliff, you learned fast to trust your horse. These creatures of might, determination and a unique temperament took us all up to the spiky top, which opened up to a flat terrain (weird juxtapose but oh-so-pretty), and down. Of course, there was the occassional grunt and protest to rest, but I would not have any idea how I would have moved up there on my legs with all these camping gears. It was splitting cold, we needed all that we took, and our horses took most of the burden. I will always look at these local horse handlers, riding as one through the air like a mythical magic arrow that cut through and past gravity with an ease that fanned the admiration in all of us. How often an animal forgave what we did to it?
ps: I realised that my horse loved the peanut butter chocolate bars that I brought along for fuel! Who would have thought?
And now, after 14 hours on a bus, we are back in Chengdu (my favourite hostel again!) to do all our laundry, dig into a burger, kick back and relax. Tomorrow will be one of the firsts in my life and something that I had been meaning to do - get on the Chongqing Express! It's the sail up the Yangtze next. Tonight, we eat what we make - it's free dumpling Jiao Zhi party and 20% off all drinks! Rock and roll everybody!
And now, after 14 hours on a bus, we are back in Chengdu (my favourite hostel again!) to do all our laundry, dig into a burger, kick back and relax. Tomorrow will be one of the firsts in my life and something that I had been meaning to do - get on the Chongqing Express! It's the sail up the Yangtze next. Tonight, we eat what we make - it's free dumpling Jiao Zhi party and 20% off all drinks! Rock and roll everybody!
Gossip heard outside our hostel room:
Hostel girl #1: (to a Caucasian lad) "I have a message to relay to you from one of our guests on level one."
Lad: (confused look)
Hostel girl #1: "She would like to pay you RMB500 to join them on a city tour tomorrow..."
Lad: (confused look getting more confused) "Why me?"
Hostel girl #1: "Because they want to have an American face on their group photographs, each one of them..."
Lad: "Do I have to do anything?"
Hostel girl#1: "No, you just follow, they will pay for everything..."
That, my friends, is the ultimate sell-out. I think I will go to a corner and seriously sharpen my blade and bleed myself dry of any last drop of Han blood coursing through my veins!
- Heard and seen, true and hard to believe, sad and real - all my love from Chengdu
