A Belated Thank You and Credit

When Sander and first talked about taking a journey together, he expressed an interest in Tibet and Mongolia. Without any financial restrictions, we began mapping out our ideal journey.

Our initial plans started out by flying to Amsterdam, then heading to Finland, before landing in St. Petersburg by boat and in Moscow by rail. From Moscow, we planned to take the Trans-Siberian Railway to Ulan Bator, Mongolia. After a week or so in Mongolia, we planned to take the railway to Beijing and on to Lhasa, Tibet. But then the financial realities set in and we had to make hard decisions.

While looking for options, I stumbled upon two websites designed and maintained by Losang. Losang is from the United States but has been living in Greater Tibet with his wife and their two children for the past eight years. He has carved out an absolutely fascinating living for himself through research, contributions to notable publishing houses and television shows, and leading tours.

When I shared Losang's websites with my son, he pored over the pages and photographs (I've also recommended these two sites to my former colleagues interested in this part of the world). Shortly after Sander began exploring Losang's pages, he enthusiastically expressed an interest to go to the Amdo Region of Greater Tibet (located in Qinghai Province, China) to see the Tibetans and Mongolians who live there. This change of plans made our journey financially possible. It also made Sander more excited than ever for our journey (and our journey turned out to be everything he expected and more).

Now, we can't wait to go back!

Losang's two websites can be found here:

Land of Snows
http://landofsnows.com/los/Home.html

Life on the Tibetan Plateau
http://kekexili.typepad.com/

It was from these pages that I discovered two of the five books I took along (Mapping the Tibetan World and Footprint: Tibet Handbook).

So I must give my belated thanks to Losang for all we learned from his websites, photographs, and book recommendations.

Final Note Before Return Journey

Photo: Sander receiving an invitation to visit a yurt or tent on the steppe in the Henan Mongol Autonomous County, Amdo Region of Greater Tibet, Qinghai Pronvince, P.R. of China (August, 2010).

Many thanks to Daryl and Courtenay Houk for their support and assistance on so many essential fronts!

And special thanks to Courtenay Houk for reading, editing, and posting my blog entries (sites like blogspot, facebook, and others are blocked in China). I will elaborate on my current submissions, and add more, in addition to many photographs -- and film clips -- following our return home.

We will begin our journey home tomorrow.

Brad


Photo: Sander shot this photo of me outside of Guide's Jiaotong Luguan as we were heading back to Xining.

Letter to Daryl

Photo: After traveling from Xining to Hong Kong in one long day, a late-night-exhausted-blurry-view of lively Hong Kong Harbor from the amphitheater of the Youth Hostel on Mount Davis, Kennedy Town, Victoria, Hong Kong Island, August, 2010.

Hey Honey,

Yes, Sander and I arrived in Hong Kong last night. Our journey went like this:

We took a taxi yesterday morning from our hotel in Xining to the airport about 20 miles east. We boarded the plane around 1:35 pm and took off 30 minutes later. To our surprise, after only a couple hours, we were landing. This was too soon to be Guangzhou. People started to get ready to disembark. This stop was not explained to me when I purchased our tickets and it was certainly not printed on our tickets. I don't know if we were the only ones who were clueless though. When the stewardess announced what was going on I could neither understand her Chinese nor her English. Minutes later, with a lot of lateral movement by the plane (which we have noticed a lot of during our domestic flights in China, making the flights more wild than a roller coaster since roller coasters don't move that way [at least the ones that stay on the tracks]), we abruptly landed in Changsha!

Changsha?

Once off the plane and in the terminal, and after being told to wait at the wrong gate at the wrong time by a woman at the Changsha information counter, we ended up on the right plane at the right time and assured by a more reliable source that our luggage was on our plane.

We arrived in Guangzhou around 6:00 pm and were soon in a taxi for the Guangzhou East Train Station.

We went through Chinese customs and caught the Express train to Hong Kong with 20-30 minutes to spare. On the train, knowing the hostel closes its gates at night and locks them but unsure of the time (I was thinking possibly 9:00 pm but more likely 10:00 pm, but that was 24 years ago and tonight it was already after 9:00 and going on 10:00.) I told Sander that it's a killer hill up to the hostel and were it closed we would either be camping out or paying for a hotel that would in one night cost more than the hostel costs in three.

I asked Sander, "You need to ask yourself a question: 'Do you feel lucky?'"

Sander replied with an emphatic: "Yes!"

We arrived in Hong Kong where we went through their customs and were in a taxi for the youth hostel by 10:30 pm via the Harbor Tunnel and then through Central and Kennedy Town in Victoria on the north shore of Hong Kong Island. At it's western point he took a hard left and drove up to the top of Mount Davis approaching the hostel just below the summit. It's quite a summit.


Photo: Impressionistic view of Hong Kong Harbor at night from youth hostel, August, 2010.

As the taxi pulled to a stop, we saw that the gate was still open! We hopped out, Sander paid the cabby, and we grabbed our gear reading the sign on the gate as we entered: GATE CLOSES AT 11:00 PM AND WILL NOT OPEN UNTIL 7:00 AM. We made it inside by 12 minutes! Twelve minutes!

Can you believe it!

Ours was an incredible sprint across China. To have covered all that distance -- in China -- in one day, through all those different methods of travel, and then to get inside where we had reservations with minutes to spare was incredibly lucky. I told Sander, "I'm traveling with luck," as I looked at him. He replied, "I'm traveling with luck," as he looked at me.

We were both lucky and totally exhausted!

We still are.

Right now we're in Kowloon, on the north side of Hong Kong Harbor and north of Hong Kong Island.

After scouting out how we were going to get to the airport the day after tomorrow, we decided to take the Star Ferry across the Harbor just for the fun of it. To enjoy the ride. To enjoy the sights of Hong Kong and Kowloon and the harbor itself. It's a beautiful harbor and a gorgeous day.


Photo: The famous Star Ferry, which we used daily to travel back and forth between Kowloon and Hong Kong Island.

Having hardly eated yesterday, we pigged out on some Hong Kong pasteries this morning and then sat down and had a real meal for a change from yesterday. For tonight we're entertaining the thought of picking up a Beijing Duck and taking it back to the hostel with us where we will wash clothes, write up our journals, and just relax. Maybe we'll view the harbor from the summit of Mount Davis just above our hostel too.

Anyway, thank you for writing and just wanted you to know where we were and how we got here. We'll soon be on our way home.

I love and miss you too!

Brad

Sander the Yak

Photo: Yaks walking the street of Zeku, Qinghai Province, August, 2010.

We were in the market near our hotel in the Tibetan Quarter of Xining today. The Tibetans, like the Chinese, are not the most hairiest of people and body hair often interests them. Two Tibetans observed Sander buying a sling before commenting on his hairiness. Of course, yaks are really hairy too. In fact, they seem hairier in real life. The yaks we saw looked like they were wearing great beards, or skirts, sweeping against the ground by their hooves as they grazed. Sander and I, like the Tibetans, love yaks and feel, as Basho might have said, that they are deserving of their Chinese name: MAONIU (hairy ox). Meanwhile, the Tibetans, were scrutinizing Sander's hairy face, arms, and legs, and inquired if he was buying a sling shot to use for yak herding back in America. Impulsively, I made horns with my forefingers and placed them pointing skyward on either side of Sander's head while telling them that Sander was a MAONIU. They laughed and laughed! And so did we in the market, here in Xining, in the Tibetan Quarter.


Photo: Sander, in the market trying on boots, after buying a sling and conversing with two Tibetans.

Guide

Photo: Sander on the ancient city wall surrounding the old part of Guide, August, 2010.

Following our drive from the steppe town of Tongde to the oasis town of Guide (pronounced: Gwee de), I am more confused about the physiography of Amdo, Qinghai province, than ever. Wherever we've traveled in Qinghai we seem to have been encircled by mountains. When we rode onto mountains, there were always higher ones in the distance. When we got to those, there were still more. Mountains were everywhere and there were different types. In the oasis of Guide, we were encircled by rugged, dry, hot, barren mountains. Below the moutains, even the water was hot. Some of the hotels fed off the hotsprings.

Upon entering Guide, our bus passed the Wenquan Binguan, a new, three-story, hotel that looked both inviting and way beyond our price range. (Sander and I had a very low price-range.) When we stepped off the bus, we walked through the station and out to the street where we looked for the Jiaotong Luguan - the Traffic Hotel (Traffic hotels provide the basics. Best of all, they are cheap. We like cheap).

We scanned the Chinese characters on signs and found it instantly right next door. We entered, asked if they had any rooms and the price for the two of us. They had rooms and would make them available to us. Sometimes foreigners aren't permitted to stay in places like this and are instead directed to more expensive facilities where they are also taxed.) The price for our room was 60 Yuan Renminbi (less than $10 total for a two-bed room). We liked the price and asked to see the room (a common practice). The attendant walked us upstairs, down the hall, and opened a door. We stepped inside and looked around.

Sander and I were absolutely delighted to have our own toilet to say nothing of the shower with 24-hour hot water (maybe this hotel also tapped into the hotsprings below). Without looking any further, we said we'd take it for two days.

We spent the next two days exploring the remains of the old city wall. In fact, it was the old city wall that Sander wanted to see most in Guide (it was the reason we came here). Over the past few weeks, I'd mentioned Xian's old city wall, in Shaanxi Province, and another I'd read about in Pingyao, Shanxi Province, which got Sander thinking. Since we would not be visiting Xian, and now that Pingyao was scratched off our itinerary, Sander decided that we should stop in Guide, just for the wall, on our way back to Xining. We had to ask around to find the wall.

When we did, I could see disappointment in Sander's eyes. The wall was nothing like the stone or brick ones he'd imagined ... like the ones I'd described. Guide's wall was made out of adobe bricks and although it was 30 feet tall in many places, it was also in need of repair in many more. Nevertheless, the wall did not lack history. It was, after all, built during the Ming Dynasty and in the neighborhood of 700 years old. To salvage something positive from the experience Sander proposed that we climb the wall. The wall was such a steep and precarious climb that I tried not to show my reservations. Instead, I suggested we walk the perimeter first to scout out a good place to climb to the top.

As we walked around the wall, we noticed signs that we thought might've said something to the effect of, DON'T CLIMB THE WALL. There was a police car nearby and people walking in and out of the surrounding villages. Just as we wondered if anyone would care if we climbed we saw a well-dressed girl walking on top of the wall. My reservations evaporated and Sander found a place to climb.

Photo: Sander climbing Guide's ancient city wall (August, 2010).

With a little effort, we made it and walked along the top looking at the vast courtyards within, the many neighborhoods without. And we simply explored. There was much to explore. It was a fascinating wall. The heights were at times dizzying and we had so much fun we decided to return the next day.

Photo: The stone carving we found in Guide's ancient city wall (August, 2010).

We spent the next day on top of the wall drawing. From a hole in the top of the wall we found a circular stone with a carved pattern like a nautilus shell. We wondered what it was used for and talked about how it must have been regarded as junk before getting tossed into the wall centuries ago. It might, therefore, be hard to say how old it really was. By the end of the day, I don't think Sander was at all disappointed in the wall.

Photo: Sander drawing on Guide's ancient city wall (August, 2010).

It was also so hot that between us we drank 10 bottles of water that afternoon before sitting in the shade along a street eating ice cream, hanging out, watching people and traffic pass by.

Photo: Sander atop Guide's ancient city wall (August, 2010).

Photo: Brad sketching on the top of the ancient city wall of Guide (August, 2010).

Mongolian & Tibetan Encounters

Photo: The motorcycle has been replacing the horse on the steppe among Mongolian and Tibetan herdsmen. In the Henan Mongol Autonomous County, where Sander and I spent 11 days, we saw Mongolian and Tibetan herdsmen on both horses and motorcycles ... but mostly motorcycles in the town of Henan.

During a bumpy bus ride between Zeku and Heri, Sander gazed out upon the steppe and watched Tibetan women in chubas filling large green bags before asking, "Dad. What are they harvesting?"

Squinting out the window in the direction Sander was looking, I said, "Just as people in Vermont are collecting firewood for their winter, so the Tibetans here are collecting yak dung for theirs. Eventually, they'll pile it into a mound and probably, later on, mix it with water, make it into round fistfulls, flatten it into circular patties, then slap them against a south-facing wall. There the patties will dry in the sun. Once dried, they'll peel them off and stack them away for the winter."

We've been smelling the smoke of yak dung fires lately. Not only from cooking fires but ceremonial ones from below our room in Heri, neaby residences, and Buddhist sites. I've actually taken a liking to the smell, almost as much as I did to the pinon pine on the Navajo Indian Reservation. It's a smell we find most everywhere here.

Everywhere, the Mongolians and Tibetans have taken a liking to Sander. Tall, chuba- and sash-wearing, rough-looking men with weathered faces, would stop or walk over to Sander on the street and lock eyes with him. A bit startled at first, Sander would look toward me. Only a couple times did I have to say, "Meet his gaze, Sander, and hold onto it. Look deep into his eyes the way he's doing to you. Then, when you're ready, flash him a big smile." Unlike the Chinese, who consider it disrespectful to lock eyes for most any length of time, the Mongolians and Tibetans love it. They meet eyes and capture you. It's as if they read who you are in how you respond. Sander, from then on, would meet their gaze, and hold onto it in a long intimate exchange. Then curl his lips into a huge smile revealing his braces. Without fail, the Mongolians and Tibetans of Amdo, who value any form of generosity or act of kindness, even a smile, responded with an even bigger one and often one decorated with many gold teeth. As the the Mongolians and Tibetans of Amdo captured Sander, Sander captured them.

Photos: Captured in an Amdo gaze: 12 people we met.











We were also captured by more than a few monks between Henan and Tongde. They would so often approach us, grab us by the hands, lead us to a certain spot, ask to be photographed with us, and we with them exchanging cameras, and then we would go our own ways. Although sometimes there were other requests. In Tongde, after such an exchange, a group of monks invited us to eat with them. Since we had just eaten, we declined and told them that we were going to climb the mountain. They liked the idea, especially, I think, because they had just climbed it themselves. They then invited us to drink together after we returned. We thanked them but, even though hardly any of the monks we encountered since Hong Kong tried to solicit us for money, declined to take them up on it. But the gesture itself was like another Tibetan smile.

After visiting the monestary in Heri, Sander and I were walking back through town when it was crowded with people from the steppe. Horses were being traded and huge bales of sheepskins as well. Utensils, tools, and food were being purchased. Motorcycles, the new horse of the steppe, were everywhere. A Tibetan on a motorcycle locked eyes with me as he drove slowly past. I locked eyes with him. He looked as if he could have played the lead role in a film about an Amdo fight for independence. I flashed him a big smile. He, to my suprise, stuck his tongue out at me! I told Sander.

"Yeah Dad. It's a sign of respect or admiration. I've gotten it a lot. Actually, I've started doing it back."

Sander and I left Tongde on the Amdo steppe by bus and rode to Guide (pronounced: Gwee de).

The Voice

Photo: Sander with monks in Tongde (August, 2010)

Sander and I didn't know what the police were so concerned about. We didn't know what we might have captured on film that would send an officer out to get us within minutes after we started filming. Maybe he was followng up on a complaint from a resident, such as the Hui man who rode by on a motorcycle that I happened to catch. Had I known he was Hui when he first came into view, I wouldn't have filmed him. I know the Hui (who are Muslim) don't like to be filmed. (In 1997, in Shijiazhuang, a Hui man once threw a rock at me while I photographed a Hui street market. I got the message and have since always asked.) Sander and I have done lots of asking permission on this journey.


Photo: Tongde, a town on the Qinghai steppe, but deep in the protected Baqu Valley with loess cliffs to the north and south (August, 2010).

But what if the police were concerned about us filming the many new communication towers and installations that line the rim of Tongde's gorge? China's military has made enormous strides in the past few years and Qinghai, the Amdo region of Greater Tibet, might still be a sensitive region regarding potential social unrest among the Tibetans. There are many Tibetans here. Tibetan is the language to know. In fact, as I write this in a little Tongde internet cafe, everyone around me is speaking Tibetan, not Chinese. If the possibility of social unrest is an issue, that might explain the army barracks, as well as the armed police barracks, in most of the towns we've visited in Amdo. If this was over anything regarding the military, I wondered if this might be a problem. So I prepared. The officer said he would be at our room at 8:00 pm.

Before 8:00 I looked up words for world, government, tower, and shadow. I wanted to be prepared to explain that a government that spies on its own citizens would surely spy on other countries. That whatever Sander and I might've filmed from the ground has already been photographed from space. That even if those images didn't provide the information desired, the height and many other details could be extrapolated from the length and shape of the shadows of the towers based on time of year and time of day. I played out the possibilities and came up with a short list of keys words to use and commited them to memory. I wanted to be ready.

I've dealt with the Chinese police before for riding my bicycle in closed areas. The Chinese police simply do not mess around sometimes. At other times, they make examples out of people. I thought of possible accusations and appropriate defending arguments and memorized key words. I tried not to show Sander how nervous I was.

At 8:00 pm sharp a gentle knock came to the door.

I opened it and invited the officer in. He was alone.

He smiled and handed me the camera. I didn't understand everything he said. So I asked Sander to open the camera to see if his film was still in there. It was.

The officer explained that everything was good. He seemed to be as happy as I was that there wasn't a problem.

He asked how long we would be staying.

I told him we'd leave the day after tomorrow. I asked if we could take pictures in Tongde.

He assured me that that would be fine. We were allowed.

I thanked him.

He thanked me, shook my hand twice, and saluted me twice.

I didn't expect anything like this. It was so easy. So quick. So pleasant.


Photo: After saving money in our spartan accommodations in Zeku and Heri, in order to get a shower in Tongde, we had to go with a suite for about $25 per night (August, 2010).

Once he left, Sander and I reviewed the film. The beginning was a segment Sander shot of the monastery in Heri, the town where we spent two days before our arrival in Tongde. In Heri Sander had gorgeous shots of the stupas and prayer flags.

Then we watched the short piece I filmed of Sander walking earlier that day. At the end of the clip, we could hear a voice yelling for us to stop.

A voice, a story, Sander may never forget.

I know I won't.


Photo: Sander at the bus station in Tongde. If one can navigate China's transportation system of busses, trains, and planes, one can go about anywhere in China with ... RELATIVE ... ease ... surprises ... hardships ... and rewards.

Paranoid

Photo: Tongde stretches out along a canyon of loess cliffs along the Baqu River.

Tongde is in a gorgeous valley! A long, east-west trending, deeply-dissected, gorge that resembles a smaller version of the Grand Canyon-but with more grass on the less-than-verticle slopes. There are many verticle slopes thanks to the loess near the top. There are caves in the loess. We checked one out. I'm sure the caves are old. The town looks relatively new and is comprised of two main roads running parallel to each other with, like much of China, lots of frantic construction. Beyond the construction and noise are high cliffs north and south. Our hotel, the Tongde Binguan, faces the north-facing southern ones. Last night Sander proposed that we climb it where we saw a man and yaks standing precariously on a narrow switchbacking path. I suggested that I walk with Sander's video camera and film him for a change. He agreed.


Photo: A view looking south from our hotel window.

Late this morning, we walked out of our hotel, crossed the busy main street, turned left, then right down an alley. As I started filming Sander, we descended toward the river. There were wading yaks and a Tibetan woman yelling and throwing stones at the yaks from the north bank in an effort to herd them upstream. Sander paused on the bridge nearby where prayer flags covered the railings and fluttered in the breeze. It was a soothing breeze on this sunny, hot day. I zoomed in on Sander, the yaks, then the Tibetan woman. After pulling away I spun around to catch a glimpse of the village near the bridge at the edge of the town, the cliffs in all directions, the huge horizontal stand of prayer flags up the path at the top of the gorge, and, finally, on Sander as he started the climb. The climb was so steep that for every four steps Sander climbed up he slid back down one or two. He slid a lot. But I slid more. We stopped and discussed how we were going to tackle this before Sander said he wanted to see if he could make the climb up the path he chose. Suddenly, a voice, called to me from behind. I ignored him at first, not sure if it was me he was talking to, and continued to try to follow Sander but with noticeable difficulty. I heard more shouts. Before long, I could not ignore them any longer. I recognized the blue uniform. The police. We walked toward each other.


Photo: The path we took seen from a distance.

He told me that he was the police. I told him I know. (Someone must've seen us and called the police.)

He wanted to know what we were doing. I explained.

I asked if he spoke English. He said he didn't.

He wanted to know where we were staying. I told him.

He wanted to know where we came from and where we were going, that is, what our plans were. I told him.

Then he wanted to know what we were filming. I told him that I was filming my son climb up the mountain.

It was the filming that concerned him. Maybe something on the rim?

He wanted to know other things but my Chinese is very limited and I didn't understand everything that he was asking. I told him so. He didn't believe me. He said that I was understanding what he wanted and that I spoke just fine. (Okay, maybe I knew a little more than I let on but I still missed way too much and guessed at the rest. I do a lot of guessing when I speak Chinese.) We argued about that for a while, but, the end, which I did know, it was camera and film he wanted.

I asked if I could take his picture.

He flinched.

He asked if he could confiscate Sander's camera.

I told him that I loved China and the people (implying that and wouldn't intentionally do anything to harm anyone), that I even taught English to a college for the People's Liberation Army.

But he assured me that he would return it tonight. But tonight could mean a long time waiting. I didn't want to wait if I didn't have to. I pinned him down for a time. Eight o'clock pm. He told me that at 8:00 pm he would bring Sander's camera to our room.

I asked if we could climb the hill.

He said we could. We shook hands. He walked away.

Sander and I continued up the wall of the gorge. It was steep. We slid backwards a lot. Tiny stones rolled under our feet. The goats are good at this but even the yaks take their time. The yaks really take their time. We met yaks along the way. Later we met goats. The goats are fast.

Near the top Sander and I stood among a horizontal stand of prayer flags. The flags, the gorge, the town, altogether they were breathtaking! Too bad we couldn't film this! Even worse, too bad I couldn't film Sander make the climb. Yet the climb wasn't over. We still hadn't climbed onto the plateau at the top of the gorge (we were planning to climb up all the way and walk along the rim then hike down via another route). We continued up.

But just as we approached the top we were met by a large, angry, chained dog barking hysterically at us. A woman peaked from over a wall to a home we previously hadn't noticed. She wasn't doing anything to calm the dog. The dog, watching us, wouldn't stop. It looked vicious. We picked up some rocks, turned around, and carefully descended...looking behind us periodically. We slid a lot. One does not want to slide at the wrong spot on a path like this. We didn't slide at any wrong spot but there weren't many right ones either. I thought about the camera and film.

I hope they don't keep Sander's footage and I certainly hope they return the camera.

He should be at our room by 8:00.

If he shows up on time and alone it should be good.

If he shows up later than 8:00 with others it might be trouble.

Back on the main street Sander and I sat in front of a store eating ice cream. It was a perfect time for ice cream and conversation. We decided to walk to the internet cafe.

The cafe was practically filled with Tibetans, most playing computer games and some shouting at each other. Sander and I got online. He read and responded to some emails and is now watching Colbert. A man came in and was watching me from the other side of the room. Five minutes later, as I continued to write this, he stood behind me. He just stood and watched. After a few minutes I said hello. He responded and walked away.


Photo: Among the first Chinese characters that Sander learned were WANG BA (internet cafe). In no time Sander was picking out these characters all over many of the communities in which we stayed (August, 2010).

I just feel we've been watched a lot today.

Maybe I'm paranoid.

Brad

Heri

Photo: Prayer flags between Heri and the nearby Terton Chogar Gompa Monastery (August, 2010).

Yaks, dri, sheep, goats, horses, and Tibetan tents were scattered and clustered across the seemingly boundless rolling steppe. At one tent, a boy ran to our stopped bus with a large plastic tank. The driver took the tank and poured the diesel fuel into the bus. From a stream, a woman brought another plastic container before the driver filled a makeshift tank behind his seat. Meanwhile, the road, like so many of China's stimulated cities and villages, was under frantic construction.

"It looks like the Chinese are rushing to get the road done before winter," I said to Sander.

"It looks like they're racing to get it done by next week," he replied.

By early evening we had traveled from Zeku to Heri (pronounced, "Hor").

Heri was a small village. Outside the bus we were pointed to the guesthouse where we immediately booked a room upstairs over a shop. There would only be electricity during certain hours. There was no running water during any hours. When I asked about the toilet, we were directed to the community facility down the road.

Heri was a small but vibrant village. We thought it was awesome!

Photo: The wall at the head of my bed (August, 2010).

Photo: The bed post on which I cut my foot during the night (August, 2010).

Populated with Tibetans and Hui, Heri functioned as a center for buying supplies as well as for trading horses, sheepskins, and so on. At times, like in the late mornings or late afternoons, it seemed the population swelled to 10 times its normal size with people in from the steppe. But around noon, when the day was hot, most people were napping. Sander and I didn't nap. We had too much to do.

Photo: Stupas at the Terton Chogar Gompa Monastery (August, 2010).

Photo: Sander at the top of the hill at the Terton Chogar Gompa Monastery (August, 2010).

Photo: Prayer wheels at the Terton Chogar Gompa Monastery (August, 2010).

Photo: A monk, a fire, and Sander reloading at the Terton Chogar Gompa Monastery (August, 2010).

Photo: Mani wall at the Terton Chogar Gompa Monastery (August, 2010).

Photo: Yak dung ceremonial fire at the Terton Chogar Gompa Monastery (August, 2010).

Photo: Near the center of the Terton Chogar Gompa Monastery (August, 2010).

We walked a kilometer up the road, passing, and getting passed by, a herd of sheep and another herd of yaks, to a brilliant stand of prayer flags. We filmed and took photos before continuing up the road to a monestary called Terton Chogar Gompa. There was no charge to get in, we discovered, as we hiked up a hill into the monestary in a clockwise direction where they gave us vitamin water and candy. From the top of the hill the view over the valley was incredible! We walked by a long wall of mani stones and descended on the other side taking lots of photos of prayer wheels. Before long, we seemed to be getting into the heart of the facility when we heard the faint sound of drumming. We followed the drums!

Photo: The building we entered to view drumming and chanting at the Terton Chogar Gompa Monastery (August, 2010).

They led us to a doorway in a walled compound. The beating was coming from inside. From a multi-storied building constructed in a traditional Tibetan style. There was a monk at the wall's entrance. I asked if we could go watch. Surprised to see foreigners, he said we could. Sander and I looked at each other equally surprised at this opportunity. I asked the monk if we could take photographs. He agreed we could. Sander and I looked at each other again, smiled, then stepped through the entrance.

Photo: An inner-sanctum ceremony of chanting and drumming at the Terton Chogar Gompa Monastery (August, 2010).

Sander began filming immediately. He caught the audio of the drumming on his approach. As we ascended stairs, we could soon hear chanting. Sander kept the camera rolling. We entered the building and saw shoes and sandles near the entrance. So we took ours off and I took off my hat as well. We walked quietly up to another entrance and sat down. Two inner and two outer rows of monks, some old, others quite young and sitting on laps. Two drums. Some of the monks looked uncomfortable with our filming. They seemed self-conscious. Yet others didn't mind. The room was a brilliant red with gold throughout. It looked, well, amazing. They continued to drum. They chanted. The chants changed in rythym over time. One monk walked by spreading smoke from incense. It was a fascinating ceremony and the generosity we experienced at the monestary gave me a different perspective from other monks we saw eating from huge cauldrons or buzzing by on new motorcycles or drving in BMW's.

We spent two wonderful, if not spartan, days in Heri before moving on by taxi to Tongde.

Photo: Prayer flags spanning a river between the village of Heri and the monastery of Terton Chogar Gompa (August, 2010).

Photo: Sander filming at the Terton Chogar Gompa (August, 2010).

Photo: Stand of prayer flags between Heri and Terton Chogar Gompa (August, 2010).

Brief Update from The Girls in VT

Thanks to all who have written to Daryl and Courtenay back home in Vermont!

Sander is feeling much better. His fever broke and he was fine as of yesterday when we last heard from Brad. The "boys" have moved on to Zeku, I believe. We should hear more shortly!

xo,
Daryl

Zeku

Photo: Horse-trading, or a festival before a race, #1 Zeku (July, 2010).

Photo: Horse-trading, or a festival before a race, #2 Zeku (July, 2010).

Photo: Horse-trading, or a festival before a race, #3 Zeku (July, 2010).

Photo: Horse-trading, or a festival before a race, #4 Zeku (July, 2010).

Photo: Horse-trading, or a festival before a race, #5 Zeku (July, 2010).

Photo: Sander getting dropped off in Zeku (August, 2010).

Sander and I loved Henan. Only later did we realize that most of the people we thought were Tibetan were actually Mongolians who had, over time, adopted many Tibetan ways, making them difficult to tell apart. I will not claim to be able to make the distinction between Amdo Mongolians and Amdo Tibetans in the Mongolian county of Henan. But we loved Henan. In Henan, after a long and arduous journey getting there, we were finally able to relax in a fascinating and diverse atmosphere. We were hungry for diversity. But after ten days in Henan we hopped on a bus for Zeku.

Photo: Binguan night lights in Zeku (August, 2010).

Zeku is a Tibetan town about an hour's drive northwest from Henan. In Zeku, just beyond the yaks on the road, Sander and I were the only two to get off the bus. It was hot, dry, dusty. We threw on our backpacks as the bus took off for Xining, and headed into town. We passed two horses hitched to a post. All that was missing were bouncing tumbleweeds.

Photo: Binguan (guesthouse) in Zeku where we stayed (August, 2010).

Both of us were looking for the Chinese characters for binguan, which means "guesthouse", which means "cheap hotel". We didn't see any for the longest time. But when we stopped to rest and ask for directions, the door we stepped through was an internet cafe. The woman running the place pointed across the street. Down the side alley, now blantantly obvious, were four binguans. We took the first.

Typical of China, the rooms were simple: two beds with thick quilts and flat pillows, a TV (maybe it worked, maybe it didn't), two chairs, a tea table, a night stand, a light in the ceiling, and a little coal stove. There was a community toilet outside and a community washroom down the hall. It had running water: it ran out a spout from a hanging bucket. It was cool. We liked this place, but elected to stay two nights instead of four.

Zeku, like the rest of the China we've seen, appeared to have received an enormous stimulus package from the government and put many people to work. It has been transforming towns like this, as well as the country as a whole, resulting in what appears to be an economic boom of sorts. It's amazing! But staying in Zeku at this time was like living inside a construction site. In Henan, the construction was taking place on the outskirts of town, so we were able to relax. But in Zeku, construction was taking place outside and inside. It wasn't fun, mainly, I think, because the first eight days of our journey was so intense it was like traveling inside one of these hurried Chinese construction sites. We needed to get away from that. From this.

Photo: Herding young yaks into a police blockade, Zeku (August, 2010).

Nevertheless, after settling in and eating lunch at a Hui restaurant, we headed out to explore the town. It was construction all over. But at the west end of town was a hill covered in prayer flags. They were prayer flags like we've never seen. Some were like a 100 feet long! We photographed and filmed like crazy. On the far side of the hill the steppe opened up to clusters of tents, and herds of yaks, horses, and sheep. Sander and I sat and enjoyed the view. The grasslands, the mountains, the clans herding hundreds and hundreds of animals over miles and miles. Gorgeous!

Photo: Sander turning a huge prayer-wheel near the mound of Tar-choks in Zeku (August, 2010).

Photo: Scene and yak-dung mound at the Tar-choks, Zeku (August, 2010).

Photo: Stupa at the Tar-choks, Zeku (August, 2010).

Photo: Detail of the Tar-choks in Zeku (August, 2010).

Photo: Woman walking clockwise around Zeku Tarchoks and the girls who flirted with Sander (August, 2010).

The next day after eating breakfast in our room, I went back out onto the street only to discover that, contrary to the guidebooks I'd brought, there were no longer any busses to Tongde, the next town on our planned journey. Were we unable to get to Tongde, we might have to return to Xining the way we came. We didn't want that. I asked around. Eventually, I was told by a bank officer that we could take a bus to Heri (pronounced "Hor"). Heri was about 41 kilometers from Tongde. Given the efficiency of the Chinese transportation system, we figured that there must be a bus from Heri to Tongde. An unreliable source confirmed that there was indeed a bus. I told Sander. He said, "Let's go for it!" I told him that I was told that the bus will be out here at 10:00 am. We packed and checked out.

Photo: Zeku street scene (August, 2010).

The bank officer walked us to the bus and introduced us to the driver. Because no tickets were being sold and payment was only being accepted right before departure, no seats were claimed until then. But the bus would not be leaving until 2:20 pm. So Sander and I dropped our packs and were about to settle in for a long wait. The driver suggested we place our packs on the seats and he would watch them. We did and decided to go journal in a restaurant. But half an hour later, Sander noticed that the bus wasn't there. Our hearts raced. But this sort of thing often happens in China. The driver told us where he would be departing from. So we went to look for him and sure enough, there he was.

Photo: Tents and herds of yaks, horses, and sheep on the edge of town.

But this was a strange day. The police, for reasons I never understood, blocked off the entire intersection at the center of town for hundreds of yards and for hours. At times it was funny watching them and the herders trying to control unruly yaks that didn't understand they couldn't pass through. Then the police kept moving the parked traffic around. This meant that Sander and I spent the day tracking and retracking down the bus. In the end, however, we found the bus for the fourth time and loaded in, in front of our packs, with half a dozen Tibetans. The bank officer came to make sure we made it onto the bus. After the bus spent another 30 minutes driving around looking for more passengers, we were off across the steppe once again west for Heri.

Photo: Our bus to Heri (August, 2010).