Zha Ga Na (扎尕那)
15 June 2019.
The next day, I woke up early for our day at Zhagana (扎尕那). We had agreed on a price of 350 yuan (117 yuan for each individul) with our jolly Tibetan driver who drove us to the ranch yesterday for the horse racing event.
Zhagana (扎尕那) is a natural wonder, definitely more welcoming in the sun than rain. Restaurants and accommodation set on the hillside were plentiful, it was evident that the locals was anticipating a rise in tourist numbers as the area got more popular.
We decided on lunch to wait out the dampening rain before we began exploring the area. The young couple were keen on ordering Chinese delicacies which I got to try knowing very well that our lunch tab will eventually come up to a hundred over yuan, for which we split the bill, 56 yuan each.
It was drizzling when we left the eatery. The low hanging skies were grey and gloomy but at least we could walk around in the light drizzle.
Fresh wooden planks connect the foot of the mountains to the top where there is a small fairy lake. It took us nearly an hour of stair climbing to get to the lake. Our jolly Tibetan driver accidentally drove over two groundhogs （土拨鼠） on our way to Zhagana (扎尕那). They were scurrying to the opposite side of the mountain path when our vehicle came. Our driver slapped his steering wheel in regret, gesturing to us that they had gone under the wheel and he was not able to stop in time. It was an accident, we replied. Guilt-ridden, he reached out to his vehicle’s in built radio, switching to a Tibetan chant channel. We listened to the low chants in the next twenty minutes. “One chant, one groundhog. Two chants, two groundhogs.” the initially jolly Tibetan driver expressed through broken Chinese and hand gestures. We didn’t know what to say.
Zhagana, 1449 hr.
Scenery along the route back to Langmusi, 1728 hr.
Back at the hostel, a lady who looked around my age returned to our shared dormitory with the comment that the flush in the toilets was not working. She briefly described the state of the toilet in a matter of fact manner.
“Probably there’s a problem with the water supply.”
“I was planning to have a shower.”
“Oh I think the shower still works. There’s only one shower in the hostel though.”
“Do you want to bathe first?”
“No there’s no need to bathe here in the cold.”
She was right, no one out of the twenty guests at the hostel seemed to think of showering. No one sweated in the chilling weather and that sole shower room stayed mostly vacant through the night. Probably some guests might prefer a morning shower. What was more unimaginable was that the lady who was my roommate for the night turned out to be a fellow Singaporean. She was only a year older than me and has backpacked extensively on a budget. This time, she was heading north towards Xinjiang and had plans to move on to explore Central Asia afterwards. As she had travelled to Langmusi from Kham Tibet which I would head towards, I had to ask about altitude sickness. I confided that I was in a dilemma about joining a local tour just for Kham TIbet in case I find myself suffering from altitude sickness as tour groups usually provide oxygen cans and people will notice if someone else falls sick. “No, tours aren’t worth it.” she shook her head. I silently agreed, I wouldn’t join tours unless I absolutely have to. “When you get to Litang, just don’t do anything on your first day. Eat, drink and sleep,” she advised. Litang is a TIbetan town located at an altitude of 4000m and has been known as the highest town in the world, with countless reviews warning others of possible altitude sickness problems they could face. My fellow Singaporean personally did not take any medications or precautions against altitude sickness throughout her entire journey. I was glad to have met her as I eventually resolved to travel onwards to Kham alone as planned. I did not have a backup plan of what I would do if I did end up to be physically distressed from the low intake of oxygen but I would take all the necessary precautions like, taking medication and staying overnight at lower altitudes to acclimatize before reaching Litang, my ultimate destination in Kham Tibet for now.
This fellow Singaporean was travelling a similar route to mine, just that she was heading North whilst I was heading South. She was also more budget friendly than me, preferring to hitchhike whenever possible. Early next morning, her bed was empty, she was already gone for a hitchhike ride to Xiahe.
The Sichuan Temple was next on the itinerary. The admission fee is 30 yuan and when a few tourists who entered without paying, the resident monks immediately gave chase. When I visited the Sichuan Temple again the next day, I was stopped by its resident monks.
“Do you have your ticket?”
“Yes, I was here yesterday.” I handed him my ticket.
“Our tickets are only valid for the day itself. But it’s ok.” the young monk handled me back my ticket, waving me on.
“Thank you.”
I should be buying another ticket, I didn’t want to seem rude but the monk seemed pleased that I had a ticket even if it was from yesterday. Similar to the Labrang Monastery in Xiahe, the monks here follow the Gelug Tradition, a school of Buddhism founded by Tsongkhapa. The only other school of thought I’ve come across is the Nyingma sect although I had no clue on how to differentiate between them. Langmusi sees a cultural mix of Han Chinese, Hui Muslims and ethnic Tibetans and interestingly, the Hui Muslims do know how to communicate in the Tibetan language. A Hui Muslim man shared that since Langmusi is a Tibetan enclave, locals will have to learn the TIbetan Language. Yet, somehow it seemed that the Han Chinese, on the other hand, spoke only Chinese.
Monastery Grounds, 1944 hr.
Found another Fast Food Restaurant, this time it is Belike. There are also no ICBC braches in Langmusi too, if one is lookig to withdraw cash from this specific bank.
Interior of the Hostel.
The Gansu leg of the Xinjiang-Singapore Overland journey is completed!
Click below to return to continue towards Sichuan Province.