Mike's China by Mike Dixon - HTML preview

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8 Shangri-La

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Okay!  Its real name is Zhongdian.  The China Tourist Board renamed it Shangri-La for the benefit of Western tourists who have read James Hilton's novel "Lost Horizons" and want to visit a mountain utopia where they can escape the troubles of everyday life.  Hilton placed his Shangri-La in Tibet.  The Tourist Board located theirs over the border in Yunnan province.

I went there with a mountaineering party and injured my foot so I saw more of the town than the mountains.  Apart from the discomfort, I wasn't greatly put out.  There is a huge amount to see in and around Zhongdian.

The town is essentially Tibetan.  Most of the people are Tibetan and the monasteries are Tibetan.  We stayed in a clean and comfortable guesthouse.  The facilities were basic but well up to the standard that mountaineers expect.  The cost per night was a fraction of what I was charging my guests in my backpacker hostel in Australia.  The guesthouse served meals and had an Internet cafe.

One of the advantages of being injured and separated from your climbing friends soon became apparent.  The Tibetans take pity on climbers in distress.  I soon had people inviting me to go places.  One was an Internet user with a brother in a monastery.  He put through a call to the monastery and arranged a visit.

His brother arrived in a shiny new car (something I'd not expected) and we drove to the monastery, which turned out to be far bigger than I had imagined.  I'd seen monastic buildings on a hill, surrounded by narrow streets and old houses.  I thought the houses were part of the old town.  I'd not realised that they were where the monks lived.  The monastery was a town within a town.

The monks wore the claret-coloured robes of their order.  I'm sure there is a better word for it but I'm not good at colours.  Anyway, a group of them joined us and we puffed our way up the hundreds of steps leading to the top of the hill as small boys dashed past us.  The monks seemed no more able to cope with the thin air than me.  I wondered if the boys would grow up to be like them if they became monks.

We reached the monastic buildings and I was treated to a private tour.  The site is richly decorated with murals, ornate carvings, prayer wheels and statues.  Most parts are open to visitors.  You don't need a special invitation from the monks to go there.

My tour took in the monks' scriptorium and ablutions block, which is normally off-limits to visitors.  While I was there, a deep roaring noise disturbed my thoughts.  It sounded like air being forced down one of the drains.  I inquired about it and my escort beckoned me to go outside.

We entered a private garden where some monks were blowing down gigantic bronze horns.  They were several metres long and their ends rested on stands.  I was invited to have a go by a monk who wiped the business end of his horn on his robe and handed it over to me.  The instrument was like a gigantic bronze didgeridoo and I tackled it accordingly.  My first two attempts produced no more than a weak spluttering noise.  Then, to everyone's surprise, a half-passable sound emerged from the far end.

I made other trips with the monks.  One was to a shrine which had been famous for its ancient stone monuments.  These had been destroyed by zealous vandals during the Cultural Revolution.  Fragments lay in piles, inscribed with Buddhist texts in Sanskrit.  No attempt had been made to put them back together.

There's no need to have friendly monks to take you on trips.  You can hire a guide and drive round the countryside.  There are lots of small farms built in the traditional Tibetan style.  I went to one which was open for visits.  Generally, I don't like this sort of thing since it can be demeaning for the locals.  I didn't get that feeling in this case.  The farmer and his family were as interested in me as I was in them.  They had plenty of questions about life where I came from.

The top picture (above) is of the monastery.  The picture below it was taken when we were having tea with the farmer and his family.  That is followed by their neighbours’ farm (note the TV-dish) and a picture of the monk who challenged me to blow his horn.

A piece of important advice:  One of my climbing mates contracted tuberculosis in Tibet.  The cause was almost certainly yak’s milk, which went straight from the yak into the milk jug without any processing.  If you are offered tea in a remote area of China insist on having it without milk and be careful not to consume any other dairy products.

A pedantic point: My friend Kangri insists that the “yak” is the male of the species so it wasn’t “yak’s milk”.  The female is called something that sounds like “gyug”.  So we should be talking about gyug’s milk.  Kangri said he’d given up trying to get the point across to tourists.

Update: In January 2014, a fire broke out in the old part of the city and did immense damage.  It was catastrophic for people whose homes were destroyed but most tourist attractions escaped the blaze.  Tourism has since revived and is, once again, a major source of income for the people of Zhongdian.

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My latest mystery thriller The Emerald Buddha is based in Zhongdian.  At the time of writing (Jan 2016) it is selling on Amazon for $6.50.  I shall continue to keep FREE copies for my friends.  CLICK to receive one:  http://eepurl.com/bNh_nn