Backdated 10/5 - Next stop on this tour was in Inner Mongolia where I met up with Landon, my recording/adventure eating/80分/mountain biking buddy from Nanjing. After another one of those 24 hours trains, I ended up in Hohhot, Inner Mongolia ready for adventure. (Note: I do NOT recommend training it during one of the two week-long national holidays in China. With 1.3 billion people on vacation, it makes it impossible to buy a sleeper ticket. And I can tell you that 24 hours in a hard seat with 1.3billion crowded around does not make for good international relations. Also, with 73% of them males [courtesty of the uno child policy], and 100% of them being smokers, second-hand smoke has a completely new meaning.)
Our tentative plan was to rent motorcycles and dominate the grasslands, stopping at nights with lonely Mongolian herdsmen and dismounting our motorcycles only to mount up on some wild ponies we corraled up. Everyone we told about our vacation plans simply laughed at its inconceivability, but we were not so easily persuaded.
After meeting Landon at the airport (he is rich and so travels accordingly), we headed back into the city in search of our "iron horses". In Hohhot, guys drive around all day on motorcycle taxis, sporting their construction helmets for safety and honking their horns indefinitely to the same effect. We came across two and after an hour of deliberation over cost and deposit, finally came to an agreement. And the bikes were ours! Well, not until after shelling out 2000rmb (300US) for payment and deposit. The street corner probably wasn't the best place to do so as we drew quite a crowd...the more people stopped to watch, the more people stopped to watch and before we knew it there were at least 30 people encircling us watching what must have seemed a sketchy transaction to them, as these Chinese handed over their livelihoods to two backpack-laden foreigners dishing out the big red bills.
But so much for the people who said it couldn't be done!
What transpired the following week was a beautiful thing of man, machine, and Mongolia, camping our way through the countryside of grasslands, mountains, lakes, and even a Gobi desert thrown in there for good measure.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Thangkas, and, no, it's not a Tibetan undergarment
Backdated 9/29 - The next step of my journey took me to Tongren, a small village community centered around Longwu monastery and their local Tibetan artisans. And by that, I mean the rest of the village. Essentially everyone is this small town of 300,000 who doesn't wear a robe and shave their head is a painter - or a woman.
Every boy grows up learning to paint from his father, who learned it from his father, who learned it from his father. And so you have an entire town that thrives on this beautiful trade. Being a devoutly religious people, all pieces encompass some aspect or another of Buddhism, often the thousand-arm chick or the freaky blue monster guy. Whatever the subject though, rest assured you will find a vibrant splash of colors or a black backgrounded piece with intricate gold-lined images. These are all called thangkas, and were not made popular by Sisqo.
I was actually fortunate to find lodging with such an artist, crashing at his concrete pad which contained no more than a bed, an electric stove and wok, a crusty piece of nang (bread) the size of a Chicago deep-dish, and his set of brushes. He proved to be an excellent host, even taking me to an authentic musical extravaganza. As custom has it, guests carry a long white sash and present it to one of the performers as a sign of appreciation for their song choice or presentation. Being the dumb foreigner I am though, I couldn't even show my appreciation right since right when I went on stage to throw my sash around their neck, the song was over and they were exuent stage left. Enter Dumb Foreigner, Center Stage. ooops. However, you'd better be believing that I totally redeemed myself when they started the traditional Tibetan dances on stage and I joined in. My square dancing skills from 4th grade involuntarily kicked in and I was even the ONLY proud recipient of a white sash during our performance. No mind that she was three times my age.
Aside from busting moves, I was also invited to share a meal with some Buddhist monks that I was visiting with in the Longwu Monastery. When they find out I am from the US, they are always quick to ask if I've met the Dalai Lama (similar to Han Chinese asking if I know Yao Ming) to which I am proud to reply that I have a friend (Shugfart) who has a friend (Cindy?) who ran into him in a hotel in Seattle. Curt, you should tell them that the appropriate thing to do would've been a little kowtow apparently, though Mr. Dalai is undoubtedly more and more used to pumping fists.
My final highlight was climbing the mountain that overlooks the entire monastery grounds, city, and surrounding countryside. At the top next to the stupa of prayer flags, you can see the steeped hills for miles around where sheep graze at will. In my journey to the top, I came across a sheepherderess with sling in hand. She directed her 90 head of sheep around with flying smooth stones and the whistle-and-grunt technique. She was straight out of National Geographic as she sat atop the mountain with her sheep. Unfortunately, my 5.0megapixel Canon is not. Nor are my skills. But after sharing some trail mix and whistles and grunts (again, many Tibetans speak little or no Mandarin), she warmed up to an all-out photo shoot and even took a headless portrait of me.
Aside from the incredible scenery on this trip, I'm continually amazed at the beautiful people in this world. Whether they are Tibetan artisans, monks, farmers, sheepherders, horse-racers, store owners, or bus drivers, there is a diverse group of people out there that make getting out of the usual social circle absolutely worth it. And again, I'm amazed at how many of them have never heard of the God who created the good earth in which they thrive. Looking at who they are and what they do, I can't help but think that Jesus' method of teaching is still completely applicable in the 21st century today. Who else would better understand the Good Shepherd and the Lord of the Harvest?
Every boy grows up learning to paint from his father, who learned it from his father, who learned it from his father. And so you have an entire town that thrives on this beautiful trade. Being a devoutly religious people, all pieces encompass some aspect or another of Buddhism, often the thousand-arm chick or the freaky blue monster guy. Whatever the subject though, rest assured you will find a vibrant splash of colors or a black backgrounded piece with intricate gold-lined images. These are all called thangkas, and were not made popular by Sisqo.
I was actually fortunate to find lodging with such an artist, crashing at his concrete pad which contained no more than a bed, an electric stove and wok, a crusty piece of nang (bread) the size of a Chicago deep-dish, and his set of brushes. He proved to be an excellent host, even taking me to an authentic musical extravaganza. As custom has it, guests carry a long white sash and present it to one of the performers as a sign of appreciation for their song choice or presentation. Being the dumb foreigner I am though, I couldn't even show my appreciation right since right when I went on stage to throw my sash around their neck, the song was over and they were exuent stage left. Enter Dumb Foreigner, Center Stage. ooops. However, you'd better be believing that I totally redeemed myself when they started the traditional Tibetan dances on stage and I joined in. My square dancing skills from 4th grade involuntarily kicked in and I was even the ONLY proud recipient of a white sash during our performance. No mind that she was three times my age.
Aside from busting moves, I was also invited to share a meal with some Buddhist monks that I was visiting with in the Longwu Monastery. When they find out I am from the US, they are always quick to ask if I've met the Dalai Lama (similar to Han Chinese asking if I know Yao Ming) to which I am proud to reply that I have a friend (Shugfart) who has a friend (Cindy?) who ran into him in a hotel in Seattle. Curt, you should tell them that the appropriate thing to do would've been a little kowtow apparently, though Mr. Dalai is undoubtedly more and more used to pumping fists.
My final highlight was climbing the mountain that overlooks the entire monastery grounds, city, and surrounding countryside. At the top next to the stupa of prayer flags, you can see the steeped hills for miles around where sheep graze at will. In my journey to the top, I came across a sheepherderess with sling in hand. She directed her 90 head of sheep around with flying smooth stones and the whistle-and-grunt technique. She was straight out of National Geographic as she sat atop the mountain with her sheep. Unfortunately, my 5.0megapixel Canon is not. Nor are my skills. But after sharing some trail mix and whistles and grunts (again, many Tibetans speak little or no Mandarin), she warmed up to an all-out photo shoot and even took a headless portrait of me.
Aside from the incredible scenery on this trip, I'm continually amazed at the beautiful people in this world. Whether they are Tibetan artisans, monks, farmers, sheepherders, horse-racers, store owners, or bus drivers, there is a diverse group of people out there that make getting out of the usual social circle absolutely worth it. And again, I'm amazed at how many of them have never heard of the God who created the good earth in which they thrive. Looking at who they are and what they do, I can't help but think that Jesus' method of teaching is still completely applicable in the 21st century today. Who else would better understand the Good Shepherd and the Lord of the Harvest?
JingNee, the Tibetan with Indian English accent
Remind me to tell you the story about this guy who spent seven years out of Tibet. Then eight months in jail.
This Sino-intranet might not be the time or place.
This Sino-intranet might not be the time or place.
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