Jiuzhai Gou Day Two

Getting a later start on day two (we did after all overnight in the Sheraton where we ate a tremendous buffet dinner the night before and therefore had neither intention nor motivation to rise as early as the morning before) we headed up the western expanse of the park to the highest area in the park at Long Lake, a bit obscured by grey clouds hanging low over the mountains. The entire western side of the “Y” as we have come to call the park layout, consists of Long Lake at the top, with 3-4 seasonal lakes (hence relatively empty with no flowing rivers between them on the way down) and a windy road with steep paths. Upon reaching the top, we had passed a couple bus stops absolutely overwhelmed with throngs of Chinese, and so instead of exiting the bus, we simply observed Long Lake from the bus, as it looped the parking lot. The lake is relatively scenic, but our hike the day before – sun shining on stunning waters with warm air and pristine streams, pools and procession of lakes – more than adequately showed us the full beauty of the park. We decided to head straight back to the middle of the “Y” where we could depart the bus, view some terrific falls, and then spend a bit of time in one of the Tibetan villages.

Having scouted the villages on day one, we chose our village without regard to any other factors than “Gee that one looks nicer”. High standards set, we had a quick hike, then crossed the two-lane motor speedway (the primary conveyance route of thousands of buses per hour traveling at breakneck speeds around viciously blind corners, hoping Buddha, Tao or your deity of choice – was on the driver’s side) to venture into the village, a throng of snap happy Chinese tourists all around.

The village, “Shuzheng Village of Folkway Culture” is quite quaint, with a traditional Tibetan gated approach, painted in vivid colors, with details of animals like tigers and dragons, and adorned with detailed patterns from creative zig-zags to a multiplicity of reverse swastikas. To get the mental image of the village, just imagine an explosion of the brightest reds, yellows, and greens painted on pagoda-roof styled buildings, with myriad 30-foot tall banner clad poles of white, blue, red, green (all scribed with tiny detailed Tibetan writing) flapping rigid in the breeze, spilling out of a steep draw from high mountain peaks behind to the east, with the village gate looking downhill like a floodgate for the village high-strret over a Tibetan ritual temple (the Lotus Buddha Pagoda) itself encircled by prayer wheels with numerous shrines on the downhill slope leading (across the expressway) toward the prisitine running waters with further mountains stretching out beyond to the south and west. Truly a breathtaking setting (beyond the encroachment of the modern wheeled-beast-bearing-conveyances which continually rumble past like huge green dragons of myth) that one would be hard pressed to match.

And so, having hiked on the nearby river and forayed about within the village walls, with minor stops to have Jacquie's picture taken with FIVE separate Chinese men (Martin and I were only photographed once!), we felt we had seen the best the village had to offer (sneaking our own shots of uniquely dressed “authentic” Tibetans) and decided to make our way back down the hill to the gate for and exit back to the wonders of the nearby natural settings. However, upon approaching the gate, large numbers of Tibetans began to appear, all in native garb.

The costumes were much like the village, with bright colors bejeweled with ornate sashes of silk and cotton, hemmed by plush fur, held in place by leather and sterling silver belts encrusted with stones topped off by different types of hats from leather “cowboy” type hats, to full fur crowns of red or silver fox, to simple red or blue felt. The convergence of natives in traditional garb seemed a boon, and we camped just outside the gates, seated in grass overlooking the temple and hurriedly snapped pictures, figuring we had happened across a couple groups dressed from some minor random event. But then monks in red robes lined with yellow sashes appeared, as did mini buses of Tibetan men in different uniform costumes, some looking oddly like extras from a bad Kung-fu movie with hairsprayed coiffures reminiscent of “Kiss” in the 1970’s. Such hair seeming odd enough on these men, the hairdressers accompanying them and spritzing their do’s was all the more concerning.

As a crowd formed, a small incense laden altar was set up just 10 meters down the hill from the gate, between it and the temple. Chinese music blared over an impromptu sound system (speaker cables running over grass and across pavement to speakers conspicuaously camoflauged by fresh cut branches) as police cordons were set up, keeping us (and the hordes) off the main thouroughfare between the village gates, and the temple). With the lighting of the incense on the small altar, the dozens of costumed women lined the street just ahead of us in a cordon, each bearing a small wooden cup filled with either clear liquid (assumedly rotgut moonshine of some sort) or a tea looking mixture. What we presumed to be the village master (only because he was the fattest most ornately dressed man, and he was carrying a wireless microphone!) opened some sort of ceremony, which prompted a procession of 20-odd men clad in white silk tops, with red pajama bottoms adorned by bull heads on their backs, bearing a 50-foot dragon to dance (as dragons do) from the village, down the road, around the temple and back toward the gate of the village.

What a show! What amazing luck on our part (we thought) to be witness to this ornate, native and revered rituals. Monks, brightly costumed local men and women, excited children, all thronging toward the gate. And behind, a procession, throwing confetti into the air, marching proudly (at first). We strained for a closer look, as a tight crowd of Chinese men encircled the confetti bearers, marching their way up the hill, approaching the cup-bearing ladies. As the crowd approached our position close to the gates, we readied cameras with lively anticipation. Could it be the “Chinese” appointed dalai lama?? Perhaps a diplomatic procession? The local Chinese Communist party leader? A wedding procession??? Unable to resist, I broke headed (video camera in hand) shortly down the hill to break through and use my superior height to catch a glimpse of these highly anticipated and much-celebrated guests of honor.

And then they appeared. Clad in sashes, faux-Chanel sunglasses with over done make-up, limpid humidity-affected hair-dos and the odd oxygen canister in hand, a procession of . . . beauty queens?? With sudden stunned silence we looked on in momentary disbelief before laughing out loud, as much at the crowd’s excitement as our own disbelieving reaction. Miss Serbia, Miss Georgia, Miss Uzbekistan, Miss Kenya, Miss Estonia, Miss Latvia, Miss Bulgaria fought their way through a crush of Chinese men, and alternatively fended off attempts by the Tibetan cordon-ladies to ply them with the wooden cupfuls of random elixir! Their faces alternated smiles and shudders as they attempted to sip (what would seem to be from their culturally-unaware reactions) the horrific liquid being poured onto their lips.

As “Miss USA” passed by (so stated on her sash), Jacquie called out “Miss America!” to get her attention and ask, “Who are you?” Startled by both the perfect English diction, as well as our anglo features, she told us the reason for the entire event. “We’re Beauties of World!” Astonished by the sudden appearance of, well, us, a few of the girls reacted with smiles and surprise, and one even took OUR picture! Quite nice to become the star attraction of the star attraction – we await the production of our photos on the “Beauties of the world Blog”! A final few stragglers approaching, I realized Miss Sweden was trapped by a throng of Chinese men, converging on her to get pictures with her golden locks and icy blue eyes. Seeing an opportunity to help out a poor Swede, I pushed into the crowd, and asked her to send regards to our favorite Swede, Emma (our sister-law-to-be).

After the entourage passed, we were able to spend some time with a number of the local Tibetan women – mostly elderly – as they sat and smiled at all the excitement, not so much interested by the passing procession, as with chatting to one another and continuing in costumed grandiosity to mind simple tasks like making woolen yarn. I saw a chance to interact, and within second, a smiling old woman offered me a cup of the aforementioned potion. Unsure of the contents, I sipped, and found a surprisingly sweet taste with a hint of alcohol, and an unsightly oil-like slick floating on top. After my sip I offered the remains back to the lady, who motioned for me to down the entire cup! I offered it to another woman, who demurred with knowing smile and thoughtful chuckle. Not wanting to be alone in misery in case the offering was as unsavory as my imagination could muster, I had Jacquie and Martin try a bit, before downing the remaining liquid and handing the cup back.

Through all the amazing ritual we had just witnessed, even with its seemingly ridiculous purpose (Beauties of the World) the moments we seized to interact, share a drink and the amazing photos and images (both captured vividly on film and in our memories) were priceless. A case of being in the right place at the right time, we decided to count ourselves very lucky to see this type of event and make our way on foot along the last few miles we would walk within Jiu Zhai Gou: truly a fairyland park of impossible blue waters that will leave is with memories of wonderful shared moments.