Western Sichuan: Kangding, Danba, and Tagong

Hello again. We left you in Leshan in southern Sichuan province. We are now in Xi’an in Shaanxi province and are off to see the Terracotta Warriors tomorrow—one of China’s most popular tourist sites.

We got here via a substitute Tibetan tour to western Sichuan province: visiting the monasteries of Kangding, spotting watch towers in Danba, and sleeping with yaks in Tagong.

A stopover in Chengdu

Claire here.

During our overnight stop in Chengdu we sampled the famous Sichuan Hotpot. Involving a huge boiling pot of broth into which you cook various meats and vegetables. It was very yummy but we did cause much amusement amongst the locals due to our general ineptness with knowing what order to cook things in.

Monasteries in Kangding

Noticeably more Tibetan than anywhere we’ve been so far Kangding is still in many ways a Chinese town. Damp, cool and decidedly too urban for us we decided to head to Danba after a brief visit to two large monasteries.

At one monastery we saw monks debating philosophy—a stylistic debate where one party stands and makes his points with arms raised high then bringing them down into a clap. In response, the opponent—who is usually sitting—responds with a clap of his own as a point is made. The activity is an important part of monk society and is practiced at many monasteries.

Watchtowers in Danba

The bus trip to Danba took decidedly longer than usual due to road works and the construction of a huge dam along the route. Everywhere we go in China we see signs of development on a massive scale roads, dams, houses, factories the Chinese are building and building big.

Danba is set by the furiously swift Dandu River in a huge gorge a smallish town with a friendly atmosphere the main attractions are not in the town itself but in the villages on the hills around. After a leisurely morning of sleeping and blogging and some steam buns and fried bread for breakfast we headed off on foot for the village of Suopo to take a look at the 700–1200 year old stone watch towers. At up to 60 metres tall; built by the Qiang (ethnic minority) people for defence during the Qing dynasty wars they provided us with a nice contrast to China’s modern construction binge and a reminder that this place has always necessitated building and building big.

The next day we headed for the village of Jiaju. Named China’s “most beautiful village” by Chinese National Geographic it is certainly picturesque although I think this title may have been less of a blessing and more of an encumbrance. When we visited we saw many Chinese tourists in large 4 wheel drives but very few of the locals. One small boy did try to offer us some insights. Although they were in Tibetan, we appreciated the enthusiasm in which they were delivered. The stone houses were certainly beautifully preserved (restored?) and the painted woodwork with its vibrant colours and intricate details was stunning. But overall the place seemed to lack soul.

Meeting Tibetans in Tagong

Eli here.

Tibet was off limits to us, for now. But we still wanted a taste—which we got at the small Tibetan village of Tagong.

Surrounded by grasslands, impressive mountains, flapping prayer flags of all colours, and nomadic yak herders, Tagong is a peaceful place. It was our home for three days: we spent the first exploring the village and the second two on a nomadic adventure.

The Tagong Monastery was our first village stop. But we were not alone. A half Tibetan half American local girl was our impromptu, yet useful guide. At four years old, Somsto was persistently cute and engaging—and daughter of the next door cafe owner. She found us just as we checked in, spoke English with attitude, and wouldn’t leave us alone. She appeared bored, but maybe she was just quick to make friends...

[As Claire notes: Somsto is stuck somewhere between her English speaking self—where her only playmates are adults—and her Tibetan side—where even at four she is aware she’s not quite the same as her cousins and the other Tibetan children. She certainly has an interesting life ahead of her.]

The monastery was of typical Tibetan influence. Shinny prayer wheels surround the outside and golden Buddha statues encourage lamas—Tibetan monks—to pray inside. Pictures of the Dalai Lama and other important lamas are on the walls, incense is burning, and offerings of fruit and coke rest comfortably against the woodwork. It is all very spiritual. And we were quiet as we walked with our shoes off—a Somsto request.

The rest of the day we walked the streets and climbed the nearby hills in search of views. From above, Tagong is trapezoid in shape. A small mountain stream marks one side. Snow-capped Mt Yaya peers through its blanket of clouds from the opposite side. The streets are wide and busy, but unique. Nomads mingle while their motorbikes blare a funny local music—a cross between foreign-language rock and opera. Vendors offer Tibetan breads and Chinese noodles. And yak meat dries on the footpath.

But our real adventure began the next day. Passing through fields of wild flowers and small bogs, we hiked several hours over rolling hills away from Tagong to a group of nomads—a hamlet you might call it. This was their winter home: small two-storey houses made out of stone and wood, covered in yak dung, and supporting a large yard, several dogs, and a vege patch.

A short five minute walk away was their first summer home: a large, holey yak-wool tent with ropes that stretched in every direction—a home that will move up the valley as summer progresses. This was our home for the night along with 15 or so baby yaks, a fire, several large pots containing yak milk, our hostess, and her grandson.

Although our hosts were hospitable, we weren’t just guests. We were nomads. We helped do the dishes, herd the yaks, catch the baby yaks, and entertain the kids. Claire even entered the little known kicked-by-a-baby-yak-club after a disagreement over sitting space.

Dinner was wild greens and rice. Sleep was scarce as the baby and mommy yaks spent most of the night conversing in guttural “errs” and “arrs”. At times the mommy yaks would enter until they were shooed away, only to return later. It was an experience.

The next day, after enjoying tsampa—barley mixed with rancid hairy yak butter and hot water—for breakfast, we rode horses back to Tagong along a nearby ridge. The ride offered stunning views of the surrounding grasslands and a good workout for the horses. But the higher we rode the colder it got as wind from the mountains pierced our layers. Only the warmth of our horses between our legs kept us going.

We rested that night before taking a bus the next day to Kangding and another bus to Chengdu.

Passing through Chengdu on our way to Xi’an

Chengdu was once again our transport hub; staying two nights as we waited for a train to Xi’an—pronounced ‘She-arn”—in Shaanxi province. We did little.

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We would love to continue our trip further north in western Sichuan. But unfortunately the government was turning away tourists—there were reports or recent protests at monasteries in those areas. So, we decided to continue east towards Beijing and come back to Tibet in the future.

Now, as a side note: although we love telling you what we’ve been up to, we also love hearing from you. So, all comments and life updates are welcome: simply add a comment below this post or send us an email.

Love to all,

xxx