Lugu For One

Sorry again for the long post, but the last few days have been possibly the most remarkable of the trip so far.

After seven hours of winding up and down mountains, through valleys and across long bridges, we had finally reached Lugu Lake. We stopped momentarily at a viewing platform to take some pictures and the first view of the lake instantly made the trip worthwhile. The bright sun made the lake glow with a clear bright blue as the shoreline wound around the surrounding mountains. I took my guide book's advice and endeavored to get away from the main town and to one of the smaller villages, but the " 1.5 hour walk" intimidated me (and looked much farther from the viewing platform) and so I quickly found a small bus going there for $1.

The bus wound along the lake shore, up a small hill and then down into a small cove. I was disappointed to find that Lige, which supposedly had avoided the tourism of the main town, was quickly being transformed. The entire village was under construction and the rising new guest houses were quickly obscuring the native buildings. I strode by the new shiny guest house with the dual language sign which had been recommended and out to Lige Island, a small strip of land which completes the cove. After stopping in a few places I had negotiated the furthest room out on the island, on the top floor with a window looking over the lake - all that for a cool 25 Yuan (~$3). This was a full 10 Yuan more than I paid in Lijiang, but considering the circumstances I couldn't complain.

View from my balcony

Found a room, check. Next line of business - get a plan. Turned out my guest house had a woman staying there that spoke English - one of the few I'd meet on this journey. Her name was Millian (like million with an 'a' as she told me), and she was from Hong Kong and was staying with a family in a village far up in the mountains. She brought me down to a local bar / coffee shop to help me ask about my plan of attack for the lake. Turned out a young hotel owner from the other side of the lake was there named Si Ge. He told me (through Millian's interpretation) that I could hike halfway around the lake into Sichaun province and to his guesthouse in grasslands and then he would take me to the bus in the morning to start my journey to Kunming. Sounded perfect. Got a plan, check.

Step three - eat something. I returned to the hostel, showered up and ordered some beef with peppers and some fried potatoes which were highly recommended (turned out to be like hash browns but with some kick. They were great.) I ate at the lake side as the sun disappeared and the cold started to set in. A group of four young Chinese tourists got a small table with a BBQ in the middle and invited me over for veggies, fish and "special beef" (whatever that means I don't want to know) and of course a couple beers. We talked in Chinese and a little English which one of the girls spoke quite well. After dinner, we head out to a local Mosuo dancing bar.

The Mosuo people, it should be shared are famous for their "walking marriages". Listen up girls - in Mosuo culture the woman hold the highest post. They live with their parents, brothers and any children they might have. There really are no marriages and the woman get to choose their mates, so lots of them have quite a few.

The dancing bar was more of a courtyard. Inside, men and women in the colorful traditional clothing wound hand and hand around a fire. The dancers were surrounded by the mob of tourists, some trying to learn the dance, but mostly just taking pictures. After the dancing, they lined up and began to sing - often launching into a call and response between the men and women. After this subsided and a wave of Chinese discussions back and forth, some of the tourists began to sing. Turns out it's also tradition for the hosts and guests to sing to each other. After a speech from one of the lead woman, it became clear to me (through an explanation from the girl who spoke a little English) that they had now chosen me (I'm guessing because I was the only foreigner there) to sing. I tried to warn them, but the mob won. By request I began singing jingle bells, but heaped on top of the embarrassment due to my terrible tone deaf voice, I couldn't even remember the words... moving on, the bright side was that I then got to chose the next person to sing, and naturally chose the most beautiful Mosue girl, with the traditional colorful clothes and headdress, the dark olive skin and the sharp features which distinguish them from the Han. She obliged, coming through with a beautiful ballad.

The next morning I woke before dawn to watch the sunrise from my bedroom window, but it had gotten so cold over night that not even the three blankets and electric heat pad could keep me warm. I scooted out of bed, peaked out the window and retreated back to the warmth. It didn't seem worth it. But then, about 10 minutes later, I got a knock at the door accompanied by the heavily accented words "boat" and "hurry up". I wasn't quite sure what this meant but jumped out of bed anyway, put on every layer of clothing I had and headed down to the water. My four friends from the previous night and a couple other tourists piled into the small wooden boat - reminiscent of half a wooden torpedo. Our two guides started rowing out, I wasn't sure where, and occasionally launched into spontaneous song. We rowed out through the mist and the bitter cold and past a busy fisherman into the middle of the lake. My toes and hands were freezing, so I asked to row to liven things up. Our guides were happy to oblige. Before long we had pulled up to a small strip of land jutting out into the water and climbed a small hill to watch the sun break above the hills. At this point, amazingly, I was happy to have gotten out of my warm bed.

Enjoying the sunrise

After returning to the guest house and restoring feeling to my feet and hands, I packed my bag, strapped it to my back and headed out. I started on a shortcut through a pasture and up a hill to the road. I continued over the hills and around the bends of the bright blue lake, passing through the small villages and occasionally chatting with the locals. The villages, all like Lige, were heavily under construction and the people were all friendly, possibly optimistic at the rising industry and not yet jaded by throngs of tourists. The locals were all eager to help me find my way.

Halfway through, I felt the weight of my pack and was glad to have previously lightened the load. Consulting the back of my ticket with its sketchy "map", I headed off road to follow the lake. After walking through another pasture and up a big hill I finally found something that looked like a real path. Relieved, I followed it until I ran into a local man out in the middle of nowhere. He confirmed I was headed in the right direction, so I thanked him and headed on. Later, after resting at the sacrificial alter with a great view of the lake, I ran into a group of four young Chinese tourists at a crossroads and they advised me on which way to go. At this point I was getting very tired as my legs ached going up and down the hills following the lakeside. The path eventually disappeared and consulting my compass I just kept rising up and up taking frequent breaks from extreme exhaustion. I eventually reached a summit and found myself looking down a steep slope and high cliffs towards the town. The sun was sinking in the sky and I started to worry about the pending cold. I headed down the steep slopes of loose gravel and for the first time on my trip was truly scared. I was alone, lost, exhausted and worst of all no one knew I was up here. All it would take was a bad fall or twist and I might have to spend the night on the frigid mountain. Luckily, this did not come to pass and I made my way slowly and safely to the bottom, through a large field and exited onto the road through a small pig farm.

After another mile hike along the Grasslands, I made it to Si Ge's village and almost collapsed at his feet when I saw him in front of his hotel. He took my pack, took me inside and gave me some chips and tea. He spoke no English, but we managed to struggle through a decent conversation about where I'd been and I shared my pictures. He gave me some books with famous photos of the lake and they filled me in on the massive development project to promote tourism in the lake. You could see the difference already in pictures taken only a couple years ago. I was glad to catch this place while it is still relatively isolated, but fear if I came back in two or three years I wouldn't recognize it. So it goes.

Later that night Si Ge invited me for hotpot and corn liquor with his other guests - the small group of Chinese whom had advised me earlier in the day. They spoke entirely in Chinese, but I was pleased to find that if I concentrated I could usually get the gist of the conversation. The hotpot had a whole fish from the lake in it and I was given the head as the guest of honor.

Si Ge, the owner of the hotel, and I enjoy spicy hot pot on the Sichaun side of Lugu Lake.

After a beer at the bar I retired to bed and woke before dawn to catch the bus to Xichang. The trip from Xichang was a minor disaster involving an unplanned night in Xichang, an interesting city in its own right, and a packed sleeper bus to Kunming. The bus wound through bumpy roads the entire way. I was in the very back, shoulder to shoulder with five other guys and at times the bumps were so hard I was airborne. Needless to say, sleep was hard to come by, and we'll add that to the list of things I'd rather not discuss at this moment.

The last four days I haven't seen another foreigner and rarely was lucky enough to find anyone whom spoke English. The whole thing was very tough, but one of the most rewarding and memorable parts of the trip. These days are filled with memorable stories, only half of which I've relayed to you here. It was great to really be forced to use the language. I made some new friends and am pleased to finally be at the point where I can listen to locals and usually get the point of what they're talking about. All of a sudden it's much easier to remember new words and I don't have to look them up 15 times in my phrase book to remember them, so I'm feeling optimistic.

On the sleeper, I chatted briefly with the guy next to me. After covering the basics, he finally asked if I was scared traveling alone. I was a bit surprised by the question (even more so that I understood it) and replied, "I'm a little bit scared, but the Chinese people are so great it hasn't been a problem."