Shangrila (香格里拉)
26 June 2019. (Shangrila)
En route to Shangrila, Yunnan. 0630 hr.
0752 hr.
0830 hr.
All passengers were instructed to change vehicle from the white to the pink one. Perhalps we were already at the border of Sichuan – Yunnan thus we had to travel in a Yunnan vehicle (Pink). 0831 hr. Rocky hills and gushing waters welcomed us into Yunnan Province for the next two hours.
I reached Shangrila at 1400. The Chinese Amaps showed a possible bus to my hostel. I followed its given route to a nearby bus stop yet strangely, for the first time, the said bus wasn’t in the list of buses at that stop. A local told me that I took the wrong turn and should head back to the bus station. I decided to take a cab to my hostel instead this time. Shangrila seemed to have a large number of female cab drivers, my cab driver being one of them. She was a Naxi native and I decided to ask her about Yuben Village (雨奔村) as previously suggested by the photographer hobbyist I met back at Yading. She had a 7 seater at home and could bring a group to Yuben Village for 700 yuan, with her acting as both a driver during the ride and a guide for the trek up.
“You’ll have to find someone. It would be easier to share the cost.” she remarked. I appreciated her honesty.
Arriving at Shangrila City Bus Station. 1347 hr.
We stopped to pick up her husband along the way. I later alighted along a street surrounded by with pale yellow walls. Walking past the hostel’s wooden door entrance brought me into their front courtyard garden.
“Hello.” A man in blue stripped shirt emerged from the open doors of a building adjacent to the courtyard space.
“Oh! I would like to stay for tonight.” I gushed, startled by his sudden appearance.
“Those staying today are all foreigners.” he remarked, handing me back my passport after keying in my details. It turned out that the only people staying in the hostel were myself and four other Vietnamese nationals, who all shared a room. They were involved in a private tour. I was put up in an empty 8 bed dormitory. The hostel was spacious but I couldn’t get used to the lights in the washroom. They were sensor activated and did not seem to be working well. I decided to ask the blue stripped shirt receptionist about it.
“Well, you could shout out loud.” he shrugged. I wasn’t sure what he meant. If it was a joke it didn’t seem funny at that point of time. I later paced up and down the length of the washroom but the sensors didn’t seem to work the way I hoped for them to. They were strangely activated only when I was about to leave the washroom. There seemed to be nothing I could do about it.
At the Hostel. Left: The washing up room. Middle and Right. Domitory.
I spent the rest of the day at Dukezong Ancient Town, which was nearly a three kilometre walk from my hostel. There were a couple of shops within the Ancient Town that advertised one day tours and I again asked about Yuben Village at one of these shops. Their trip there required three days, which exceeded the time I intended to stay in Shangrila. I informed the lady of my intention to visit the Songzanlin temple the next day too. She recommended a half day trip to Potatso National Park and a self-visit to Songzanlin Temple in the late afternoon. That was my only option as a trip to the other attractions like Tiger Leaping Gorge required at least a day. I had never heard of it but decided to try. With the next day planned, Nightlife at Shangrila was heavenly. The streets at Dukezong Ancient Town were well lit in a way that was not jarring to the eye. There were loads of tourists but they were in comfortable numbers. We were all captivated by a voice humming Chinese melodies from a local bar. His was the only voice for miles around. Cool wind gently blew the colourful prayer flags that lined the streets. Everyone gathered around the world’s largest prayer wheel, each waiting to take their turn.
Dukezhong Ancient Town. 1814 hr.
Visited Dukezhong Ancient Town again the next day, 28 June 2019 after a day trek to Ah Bu Ji Cuo. 2125 hr.
Back at the hostel that night, I had to make visits to the washroom in the dark. Thankfully, their washroom was the Chinese squat without doors, thus it wasn’t completely dark and I could get myself out as quick as possible. I didn’t encounter anyone entering the washroom too as I was using it which was a relief as any figure that entered as the realization of each other’s presence would definitely not be pleasant in the dark.
27 June 2019.
The next day, I walked from my hostel to Dukezong Ancient Town where the bus to Potatso National Park will leave from at 0830. Potatso was a tad disappointing for its ticket price. For 100 yuan, it was a literal walk in the park. There was a photo taking station where tourists could hire a professional photographer to take their photos against a scenic lake backdrop. Props like a swing, a staircase that ends halfway and a piano were options tourists could make use of in their photos. There was also a snow white yak for tourists who wanted a ride. You could take a boat across the lake to a harbour that featured Tibetan tent dwellings. Potatso seemed like an introduction to Tibetan culture. Regardless, it provided a peaceful atmosphere for an afternoon stroll which I enjoyed nonetheless. As I exited the park via the Visitor’s Centre, I noticed breath-taking images of the park in autumn and winter. It certainly looked worth a revisit in the later part of the year.
Leftmost: Hostel Garden. Second from left: The street outside the Hostel. Third from Left: Waited for the Bus to Potatso National Park at this parking lot within DukeZhong Ancient Town. Right: Breakfast on the bus. 0837 hr.
Potatso National Park. 1128 hr.
Back on the tour bus to Dukezong Ancient Village, a short-haired Chinese girl on the bus and I started talking. We were of the same age, she was from Guangzhou and was travelling solo around Southern China as a break from work. We talked about our accommodation for the night.
“Is your hostel near Dukezong Ancient Town?” she asked.
“No, but I can easily take a bus to Dukezong Ancient town. I’m only paying 30 yuan per night. You can join me if you want!” I said. 30 yuan for a night’s stay was reasonable, I felt.
“30 yuan? I’m only paying 6 yuan for mine!” she exclaimed.
“6 yuan? How is that possible?”
“I have some membership discount. But even without discounts, a bed there at my hostel is only around 10 yuan.”
I looked up her hostel on Ctrip. There were indeed bed spaces for 12 yuan each.
“Are there a lot of people at your hostel?” I asked.
“I was the only one yesterday. But I was the only one in my room, there were others in the other rooms.”
“I’m the only one in the whole hostel. Oh great, I feel like moving to your hostel now.” The Vietnamese nationals had left my hostel early this morning.
Our tour bus would soon drop us off at Dukezong Ancient Town. Our hostels were almost three kilometres apart. If I wanted to change hostels for tonight, I would have to immediately return to my hostel from Dukezong Ancient Town and then return back to Dukezong Ancient town again where her hostel was. That would take me well over an hour and I still had Songzanlin temple on my itinerary. My plan was to leave Shangrila tomorrow for Dali and I had to see Songzanlin temple before that.
“Have you heard of Abujicuo?” she continued.
“No, what’s that?”
Abujicuo(阿布吉措) was a scenic spot some 2 hours out of Shangrila City. At 3600m above sea level, Abujicuo has not been officially open to the public. Only the domestic tourists might have heard about it from Chinese travel recommendation apps however it was not known to international travellers. Her hostel offered a day hike to the area for 200 yuan. I was highly tempted but decided to confirm only later that night.
We had lunch together at a Tibetan restaurant upon reaching the Ancient Town. The Guangzhou girl tactfully used her Meituan (美团) app to search for discounts and our satisfying set meal was only 10 yuan each.
Lunch. 1421 hr.
We later boarded the public bus going in the direction of Songzanlin temple. She alighted first to head off to a local market to buy fruits. She had been to the temple the day before and warned that there will be a security personnel who would come onto the bus at a particular station to ensure all the non-locals got off the bus to buy tickets to the temple. The public bus will then drive into Songzanlin temple with the remaining passengers who were locals. It was easy to tell the local and non-local apart, thus it would be better to voluntarily alight and buy the ticket instead of sneaking in. She also recommended me to walk the distance from the ticketing office to the temple itself instead of taking the internal shuttle which would cost around 40 yuan extra. The entrance ticket was 27 yuan and she was right, the internal shuttle wasn’t quite worth it considering the relatively short distance into the attraction. There wasn’t a pedestrian walkway but only a road where those on foot would walk beside passing vehicles and I was easily noticed by the bus drivers who made multiple journeys between the attraction and the ticketing office. One of them held up a thumbs up sign when I reached the temple just as passengers were alighting from his bus. I returned the gesture, smiling from ear to ear. From afar, Songzanlin temple looked like the Potala Palace in Lhasa and it was extremely popular which made it a far cry from the peaceful Tibetan monasteries I have seen.
The walk towards Songzanlin Temple if one opts not to take the internal shuttle. 1551 hr.
Songzanlin Temple grounds. 1643 hr.
Here, there were throngs of visitors crowded around a Tibetan tour guide. Local Naxi and Tibetan ladies sat on the steps, calling out for tourists to buy a cup of sour yoghurt. The temple grounds were beautiful yet devoid of the sight of its resident monks. The only monk most tourists saw sat at a dedicated space near the temple doors selling amulets and bronze sculptures. Most deities within the temple had their names labelled in front of them, which was extremely helpful. A local Tibetan entered the prayer hall. One of the few locals on the temple grounds, I watched as he did his prostrations. I could still remember the Tibetan way of praying and did my prostrations after him. You could also go up to the higher floors which would be quieter with views overlooking Shangrila city. Just outside the temple, I met the Tibetan local who was at the prayer hall earlier. He was getting his bicycle ready and seemed to recognize me.
“Are you walking out?” he asked.
“Yes, I intend to!”
“Why don’t you take the public bus out?” he asked. I hadn’t thought of that! I soon dropped the idea when I realized I would have to backtrack some distance to the bus bay across the temple.
“No it’s alright I’ll prefer to walk!” I replied.
“Do you want a ride?” he asked, pointing to the seat on his bicycle.
“It’s alright,” I smiled. He cycled away into the distance and then stopped.
“You sure? I can manage you know” his voice echoed down the empty road.
“Its ok, I’d like to take a look at the scenery along the way!” I shouted in reply.
“Be careful!”
Outside the temple, there were no longer any public buses as buses in Shangrila cease operation by 1800. I decided to walk back to my hostel. I passed by a Tibetan Chinese high school which had pasted the Chinese Gaokao results of their students on the bulletin board outside the school gates. The name of the student, his Gaokao result and the University he was posted were clearly stated and I was baffled to see that almost of them were posted to Universities within Yunnan province. Most of those who had higher scores of 550 and above got into Universities in the Kunming, Yunnan’s capital. The highest scorer was 673 (?) It could have been their personal choices to further their studies in their province so that they could be closer to their families and no matter the reason, their completion of one of the mentally draining high school examinations was enough reason to celebrate.
The receptionist at my hostel was starting a fire in the living area when I returned. “Where did you go today?” he asked. He nodded when I told him about Potatso Park.
“You actually only saw one-third of the area today. There are still some parts of the park that are undergoing renovation.” he said.
The lady whom I bought the ticket from at the Ancient Town certainly didn’t tell me that. 100 yuan to see what little I saw of the park suddenly didn’t feel its worth. However, I had met the Guangzhou girl and learnt about Abujicuo by chance as a result of today’s visit to the park. The receptionist returned me a blank look when I asked about Abujicuo. I decided to stay one more night than planned in Shangrila and I would move to her hostel early next morning. The Guangzhou girl would be joining me too on the hike!