Polis polis potatis gris

©Paddy Booz

I love this sign, Paddy took a picture of it in Danba, Western Sichuan. Poor Police, I hope they won't be arrested by the Ice Pol for bad spelling...or global warming....or going out stenciling after a night on the town.

Emei Facts

Map of Emei from 1938

Unesco World Heritage site since 1996.

9.519722° N, 103.3325° E

Highest summit: Wanfo Ding (10,000 Buddha Summit) 3099 m.

Middle summit: Qianfo Ding (1,000 Buddha Summit) 3085 m?

Tourist/traditional summit: Jinding (Golden Summit) 3077 m.

Some sources claim Jinding and Qianfoding to be the same summit, others that there are three separate summits. In actuality there seems to be two main summits with a small outcropping between them. But is this Qianfoding or something unnamed? Please enlighten me anyone who knows!

Emei Moutain is one of the Four Buddhist Holy Mountains of China (The other three being Wutaishan, Putuoshan and Jiuhua Shan).

The patron saint or house boddhisattva of Emei is Samantabhadra (Puxian 普贤菩萨 in Chinese). Puxian is the Boddhisattva of Action and the Protector of the Lotus Sutra.

The meaning of the name Emei 峨嵋山 is subject to much speculation. Emei is said to mean "high" or "lofty" but has traditionally been translated as "silkworm-moth eyebrows". According to James M. Hargett in his excellent definitive book on Emei Mountain "Stairway to Heaven" , State University of New York Press, SUNY, the earliest reference to this name is Li Daoyuan (d. 527) "Although Mount Emei is 1,000 li south of Chengdu, on clear, autumn days if you gaze at the mountain from afar, its two peaks seem to face one another like moth eyebrows." Hargett: In other words, the mountain's twin peaks resemble the arched, antennae of a silkworm moth (e 蛾) and so the name was adopted as the name for the mountain.

Emei Mountain Conquered!

Naughty macaque that stole a milk package from Chinese tourists.

Macaques patrolling their turf between Leidong Ping and Jieyin Tai.

Following the abandoned monorail. Not for the faint hearted at 6 meter drops.

Paddy, Minna, Jari and one of our faithful construction workers engulfed in the bush.

Golden Summit with statue of Puxian (Samantabhadra) on his elephant.

Golden Summit from Wanfo Ding

Wando Ding summit (3099 m) with swirling clouds

Flat summit of Dawashan from Golden Summit

Clouds over the plains of Sichuan from Golden Summit

View from Wanfo Ding (10,000 Buddha Peak) past Qianfo Ding (1,000 Buddha Peak) over to Jinding (The Golden Summit). All images above ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn

After 25 years and several trips to this mountain I finally "conquered" the highest peak of Emei: 3099 m Wanfo Ding! :-) A small triumph but great fun nonetheless, as the weather is usually so very fickle on the top. My last three trips were socked in with fog and even snow and ice! When we got to the top and found a couple of construction workers who knew the way we couldn't resist bushwhacking over to the far highest peak of Emei, something I have been wanting to do for years. Paddy and I and two Finnish friends Minna and Jari headed off along the path beside the abandoned Monorail. 22 meters of elevation (the difference between the Golden Summit and Wanfo Ding) made a difference and the view back onto Jinding was breathtaking. So now I have been on both "moth eyebrows"! What a day!

Blogspot still blocked in China

Sorry to say that Blogspot is still blocked in China, thus no new postings from me since August! Today I am in Bangkok where I - for the moment - have a temporary cyberwindow. But tomorrow I will be back in China. It is a very sad scenario indeed.....

Listening to the sound of rain

Most Chinese would say that the social atmosphere they most enjoy is rènao 热闹, "bustling with noise and excitement, lively". The first character, rè, can also mean "hot", "feverish" and "restless".

Rènao is the kind of atmosphere you find in a Chinese restaurant when the establishment is fully packed: Every table is seated with ten chattering people, each one happily eating and socializing; waitresses and waiters scurry about, the hostess shouting into a walkie-talkie that "table 9 is ready!" and the loud speakers pumping out shrill pop music. Only then can a Chinese feel relaxed, surrounded by food, people and noise, a comforting mayhem that seemingly creates a sensation of much-needed security and inclusiveness.

But if you look closely you might see that actually not every guest is talking; some people are sitting quietly, letting others do the talking. Amidst the tumultuous hubbub of everyday Chinese life there are actually people who seek quiet and solace, seemingly not needing to constantly fill their existence with noise.

Chán fáng tīng yǔ 禅房听 雨, "meditation/zen", "chamber", "listen", "rain" is an expression that epitomizes the ideal of quiet and solitude. The quiet that is found when listening to the sound of rain drops falling on the roof of a temple when meditating in a separate space. A Zen monk, of course, should be able to find his or her own "inner chamber", even amidst the nosiest, maddening crowd. 

Tagong and Western Sichuan July 2009 Part 2

Tagong and Western Sichuan July 2009 Part 1

All photos July, 2009 ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn

I'm taking advantage of being able to upload new photographs from recent trip we made up to Tagong area of Western Sichuan to view the total solar eclipse. The weather was incredible and the sights and experiences as precious as ever. Every time we go up this area there is something and different to explore. 

Soluxe Courtyard: Fantastic hotel in Beijing

All photos ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn

Here are some images of the courtyard of a hotel I stayed at recently in Beijing. An oasis of peace, quiet and beauty. It's built on the grounds of an old temple (two actually Guangji and Jiaci), thus the inscribed Ming and Qing Dynasty inscribed shibei and 500 year old trees. Birdcages are hung out in the corridor each day to the guest's delight (and the birds entertainment) and each room has a door out onto a lovely courtyard. Heaven in the middle of Beijing!

Soluxe Courtyard, Beijing, conveniently located by the subway station Gulou. Address: No 2 Xitao Hutong, JiuGulou Street, Xicheng District, Beijing

Yunfeng Temple, Western Sichuan

All photos ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn

Yunfeng Si (Cloud Peak Monastery) is a Zen monastery tucked into the mountains of SW Sichuan. The monastery is rebuilt but the temple gardens have trees that are 1,200 years old, monks that are almost as ancient, bamboo groves, medicinal kitchen gardens and supreme tranquility. We visited at the end of June when the weather was lovely and the light absolutely magical. 

Niǎo yǔ huā xiāng: The intoxication of a beautiful spring day

Vikingsberg Park, Helsingborg, Sweden ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn

Niǎo yǔ huā xiāng 鸟语花香 (鳥語花香)

Literally: Birdsong and fragrant flowers (idiom). Figuratively the intoxication of a beautiful spring day. A Chinese phrase to describe the beauty of the garden, the birds are chirping and the flowers are fragrant. 

I have not abandoned you!

Sailing across the reservoir at Simatai after hiking 12 km on the Great Wall from Jinshanling. You can have this much fun in China! Photo © Michael Hansson

I'm sure that it seems like I have abandoned this blog but it's not true! It is only China that has abandoned us innocent bloggers. Blogspot (and Facebook) has been blocked now for some time and I can only post this because for a short time I am outside of the Bamboo Iron Curtain and able to access my site without any obstructions. 

When we/I will be able to able to post again is anyone's guess (posting through a backdoor is like eating candy with the wrapper on, just NOT the same sensation). Not being able to blog is actually painful, I miss it and feel like an important part of my life is missing. 

So come on China - grow up and realize that this is not where the battle should be fought!

Red guards in Chengdu and Red Detachment of Women

Emy and I chanced upon a dance school performance in Zijing Park yesterday. Groups of little girls (and a few serious kungfu boys) dressed in all manner of costumes and colours scurried about, got shouted at by their dance instructors, scolded by their mothers (who primped and bettered make-up, tweeked costumes and acted general maternal fuss-buckets), jumped up on stage, twirled around (pink butterflies), flapped their long sleeves (Tibetans) and brandished large red stars (red guards), all with enormous dedication, enthusiasm, flashing of blinding white teeth, boldly made-up eyes and tightly pinned and coifed hair. Seldom have I seen so many ponytails in one go.

It was the last group of red star carrying girls that caught my attention though. Their faces were heavily painted, they wore braids and grey Mao caps each with a red star in front, had militant little shorts-pants on and bold red leggings. Their faces were frozen in dedication, perfect miniature Red Guards (紅衛兵 Hóng Wèi Bīng) about to perform a dance from the model opera Red Detachment of Women (红色娘子军 Hóngsè Niángzǐjūn). Emy who is 10 years old didn't give it a thought and most likely not the little girls themselves who all seemed to be the same age and probably had no understanding of late 1960s China and its politics. But I wondered what the people in the audience felt when seeing these girls dress as they were and dance as they did.

But how wrong I was. According to Wikipedia this Chinese ballet premiered as early as 1964, two years before the start of the Cultural Revolution. It was adapted from an earlier film that was in turn adapted from a novel which was based on a true story that happened on the island of Hainan in the 1930s. During the Cultural Revolution however it was selected as one of the "eight model operas" (八个样板戏 bā gè yàng bǎn xì) permitted. It was this opera that Richard Nixon saw when he visited China in 1972, seven years before the normalization of the Sino-US relationship. It remains a very popular ballet today and is still performed, both in China and around the world.

Wikipedia:
Despite its political overtone and historical background when it was created, it remains a favorite of music and ballet lovers nearly 30 years after the Cultural Revolution in China. Many numbers were based on the folk songs of Hainan Island, a place that, with its coconut trees rustling in tropical wind, evokes much romantic ethos. Though there are unmistakable elements of Chinese music, the music of this ballet was performed with basically a Western symphony orchestra.

A photograph will be posted sometime in the future...

Penises and breasts

Yesterday was a day of Chinese studies at Chinese Corner, art class at QSI finishing up the mosaic project we've been working on with the 11-12-13 year olds and also...penises and breasts. I'm not trying to capture your attention in the most spectacular way because I can't post any pictures for the moment - believe me when it's possible again I'll post the evidence to prove to you that yesterday was just another typical day in China, i.e. a series of both mundane and bizarre experiences.

I had to go up to Jinli Street yesterday to buy a birthday present and was wandering around the back alleys when I heard the magnetic pulse of salsa music. I could hardly contain myself and had to immediately figure out where this music was coming from. Salsa is not the usual Jinli fare which usually specializes in classical and vernacular Chinese culture and rarely anything Western. But lo and behold salsa it was and I finally found where: The back of Jinli is now connected with the Wuhou Gongyuan and they were participating in the ongoing "Intangible Culture Festival". A group of scantily clad Australian dancers were doing a ripping salsa with all body parts jiggling and wiggling to the beat. How certain parts of the ladies anatomies stayed inside their dresses I think it was not only me wondering but all the mesmerized old Chinese men and women who made up the greater part of the audience at this time of day. The rhythm and enthusiasm of the dance troup was great though and I couldn't help jiggling along with them.

After the Australians bounced off the stage there followed a group of Chinese men balancing a large bamboo pole on their foreheads, juggling with it etc. On the sidelines I noticed other Chinese acts, most unusual being a group of very serious looking men dressed entirely in straw: straw hats, straw skirts, straw leggings and strangely each one had a substantial-looking straw "attachment" dangling between their legs. I didn't pay it much notice until they started dancing. Whoops! That dangling straw thing sure caught the audience's attention now as it turned out to be the focal point of the dance, help up high in the sky with a eye-riveting red-painted tip, jerked about and held with firm determination by the wildly dancing men.

The old ladies in the audience were giggling now and I asked the young man beside me where these dancers came from: "Hunan" he answered, as he distanced himself from me and my questions. When I later showed Burton the pictures he said "Must of been some kind of fertility dance". What a way to be distracted on this certain day.

Emperor Qianlong as a blogger

Qianlong in his study, possibly by Giuseppe Castiglione

I'm off to Beijing on Friday so I've got emperors on the brain. It is said that the Qianlong Emperor (Qing Dynasty 1711 - 1799) composed over 40,000 poems and 1,300 prose texts during his lifetime. Quite a remarkable feat. He would have made a pretty serious blogger as 40,000 poems means making at least 1-2 postings a day, every day for his entire lifetime, if he started writing at say the age of ten. He was a busy beaver in more ways than this, he also had 17 wives, 17 sons and 10 daughters (his grandfather Kangxi had 56 children) and travelled extensively.  

Remembering the earthquake

Here is a brief description about what happened to us in Chengdu one year ago, something I wrote to tell friends and family. Our experience of course was nothing compared to what the people (who lost so many loved ones) up in the quake epicenter area experienced, something a hundred thousand times worse: 

As you all know the earthquake happened on Monday May 12th, 2008 at 2.28 pm in the afternoon. This was our daughter Emy's birthday and luckily, because of this we were all in Chengdu city and not up in the mountains where I had planned to take visiting friends. 

The day before the earthquake Paddy had just come home from Yunnan in time to celebrate Emy's big day. On the morning of the 12th we got Emy out of bed and celebrated her birthday in the Swedish way with presents and treats. She and Burton went off to school and I and Paddy spent a leisurely day catching up on talk and work. Just the week before I had been away in other parts of China working for 34 days straight. The day after I arrived back our guests from Sweden arrived and Paddy left for Yunnan. The 12th was a fantastically lovely day, sunny and warm and wonderful. I had sent our guests off to visit a temple in another part of town. I was feeling exhausted and loving the peace and quiet at home. For the evening we had planned to take Emy swimming, then all join up for a dinner at her favorite restaurant. 

At 2.28 pm I was sending off some pictures on the computer when the house started to rumble. It was like the whole building was in spin-cycle in the washing machine and something had gone terrible wrong. I knew immediately that it was an earthquake and shouted to Paddy in the next room. We both ran to our front door which is made of metal and thought we would be safe there. But the rumbling had turned into a roaring boil and it was like being inside of a popcorn maker. The noise was deafening. We live on the 13th floor and the house was being shook back and forth and everything was bouncing up and down and crashing on to the floor. All the other earthquakes I have been in (in California) lasted only 10-20-30 seconds. This one didn't want to stop. Paddy shouted that we should try and get out of the house. We were convinced the house was going to come down - working in China for so many years has made us all too sceptical and cynical about how houses are constructed and if the proper methods and materials were used. We both flew down the 13 flights of stairs in our bare feet (there was no time to take anything with us). I was still in my pyjamas. Bits and pieces of cement were falling around us and on every floor we met more people trying to get out. The earthquake finished just after we got out the front door where we met hundreds of other people streaming out of all the buildings around us. It had lasted for a full three minutes. All we could think of after this was to find our kids, our friends and get away from any building as soon as possible. Paddy braved running up 13 flights of stairs again to quickly get our passports, money, shoes, computers and to lock our door which we had left wide open. We had no idea if any large aftershocks would bring the whole house done. All the time he was up there I could see the windows quietly vibrating. It felt like the earth was a living, breathy animal, panting after an enormous exertion. He was gone for about five minutes, when he came down again a large aftershock hit and we all ran out into the streets. 

We quickly bought water and then two bicycles, shops were closing up and people were trying to contact friends and relatives by cellphone. Mobile connections weren't working and the streets were clogged with vehicles and people trying to find each other. Luckily no one was showing panic, even though we have heard that a small number of people in Chengdu leap out ofbuildings in fear and died that way. We made our way to where we could find our friends and children. Luckily everyone was safe and sound. Only then did we learn where the epicenter was -- just outside of the city in the mountains to the NW and that it had been enormous (7.9 magnitude). We also learnt name of towns and cities that I had never heard of: Beichuan, Hanwang, Yingxiu. Quickly we heard that two large schools had collapsed on top of 900 students. 

As time went on the numbers of casualities increased and unspeakable horrors were revealed about what had actually happened.  It is incomprehensible how entire cities can be crushed to rubble within a few seconds.

After the earthquake we have experienced fantastic warmth and generosity from all people around us (thank-you Kim, Johnny, Barry and Carin!) and we have all, Chinese and foreigners alike, gotten to know each a little better and been pulled closer together. I love Sichuan even more today than before and don't want to leave the area. Fun-loving Chengdu isn't the happy-go-lucky city it once was and everyone seems to be suffering from a collective depression, but day by day things get a little better. The Chinese people are incredibly resilient and tough and outside the city everyone is concentrating on getting through each day, minute by minute. It is too painful otherwise. 

 The kids have also been fantastic and seem to be doing all right after a few ups and downs. At the moment they are concentrating on getting through their last two weeks of school. During the actual earthquake they were thankfully outside of their school building doing sports. They felt the earth rumble and shake (it sounded strange they've said) and watched the school clocktower sway back and forth in an odd way, the lightning rod a top whipping frenetically back and forth. They didn't feel scared at that time and their teachers were very calm and responsible. Only afterwards when they joined up with their parents and witnessed all the adults acting scared and weird did they feel fear. Something for me to think about in the next disaster. Up on the 13th floor when the earthquake hit and I could hear the buildings crashing together and our terrace ripping apart, I experienced true, primitive anxiety. I wasn't at all brave, I was terribly scared and realized that I very much like being alive. I was no hero during this time and it taught me a lot about myself and my weaknesses.  

When Emy realized there would be no birthday celebration this day she said "This is the worst birthday of my entire life". In the evening, when we and a hundred plus other people had all gathered together in a garden to spend the night outdoors out of range of potentially falling buildings, Barry Jones got everyone to sing Happy Birthday to her in English and Chinese. It was very moving when we all knew that not so far from the city there were thousands of children lying dead, their parents distraught, searching for them. When Emy and Burton were allowed to drink a lot more soda pop than usual during the first earthquake week Emy said: "This is the best earthquake I've ever had".

 

Written June 2008

Anniversary of May 12th, 2008 Earthquake

Empty house, near Yingxiu May 2009 ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn

Yesterday (blogspot runs on American time I think) was the first anniversary of the Sichuan Earthquake. It was an emotional day for me: For one, my daughter turned double-digit and I felt that time was slipping away and that she was getting too big too soon. (I've hopefully got another 9 years with her before she moves away from home so some comfort there). Secondly, the memories from the earthquake last year are still all too fresh and recently accentuated by our visit through the epicenter at Yingxiu.

Paddy and I (tearfully) watched the documentaries and commemoration on Chinese TV and saw how the government eulogized both the victims and their families but also glorified the party and the government's efforts to save lives and make everything right again. Better to concentrate on the positive and not all there still has to be done. Or all of the people that have fallen between the cracks and aren't reached by the enormous state reconstruction apparatus. Every other picture was one of the flag of the Communist Party and or the seal of the PRC. I suppose no different than the number of American flags that were shown after Katrina or 9-11 (Wenchuan and Katrina however were natural disasters with no political agenda). In Sweden we are more discreet in showing our flag and equating disasters and tragedies too closely or patriotically with our government (even after the 1994 MS Estonia tragedy or the 2004 tsunami). 

Driving through the quake area the other day I sometimes felt like one of those "morbid tourists" that I wrote about on Feb 2. The TV showed them yesterday too, how Chinese busloads and caravans of cars and motorcycles visit Yingxiu and are guided around amongst the still highly visible ruins by the teenagers and young people that survived the earthquake. In the beginning their guides are cheery and strong and tell how boulders the size of small houses rained down upon their heads and how entire mountains slid into and over the city, crushing and smothering everything in its wake. After a while, when things get more personal and they relate what happened to them and their families and the people around them they break down crying and can hardly continue. It is all still too horrible to think about and I wonder how long these young people - just at the beginning of their lives - will have the energy and emotional balance to keep on talking about something so close to the bone. I hope that they will be able to move on eventually to a life that doesn't revolve around the earthquake everyday. But like victims of any huge disaster or tragedy loosing a large portion of your family is something that will alter your life forever. 

As 14.28 crept up on the clock yesterday (the time of the earthquake) I began to feel a little anxious and wanted to have everything in order. I made sure that this year I had already showered and dressed and that I had my shoes on (last year I was still in my pyjamas, lazing about, and that's how I ran out of the house). When 14.28 arrived the commentary on the TV stopped completely and the cameras panned slowing around the epicenter in total silence for one minute. Complete quiet in China is always something particularly peculiar and the effect was very unsettling and moving. It even seemed that the city around me here in Chengdu was quieter than usual, but a look out the window showed me that no, most people were actually going about things as usual, loading cars with goods, bicycling, chatting, talking on their cell phones. 

We spent the evening at the Bookworm participating in the earthquake anniversary benefit. As ever my extreme admiration for Peter Goff, the Bookworm staff and ALL people, too numerous to mention, Chinese and foreign, that have helped out at Sichuan Quake Relief over the past 12 months, finding earthquake victims who have "fallen between the cracks" and helping them in ways both big and small. Within just a day of the earthquake their relief efforts began and they are still going on, with numerous short and long term projects that really make a difference in people's lives. All profits from last night went directly to quake relief projects. (Burton and his band Ze Puppies played too and everyone sang Happy Birthday to Emy, thanks for the yummy cake Kim Dallas!). Last night was also the release of Abigail Washburn's (of Sparrow Quartet fame) and David Liang's CD Afterquake. The CD mixes the actual sounds of the rebuilding with the voices of relocated school children, talking and singing. Truly moving. More here. 

The Sichuan government, sister provinces and cities all over China, and the enormous efforts of all people in the quake areas have also accomplished a truly heroic amount of reconstruction this past year. There is so much to do it just seems so overwhelming...you are all TRULY AMAZING.

Lest we forget: The Wenchuan Earthquake killed up to 90,000 people, injured 400,000 and made 5 million people homeless (5 million is the entire population of Denmark). A tragedy of this proportion can't be put to right over night, work will go on for many, many years so please remember how people still need our help and support. 

Huanglong 黄龙 and Xuebaoding

Charles, Isaac and Burton having a snowball fight at the pass overlooking Xuebaoding in the far distance. 

Lungta, "wind horses": small paper offerings that Tibetans through into the winds whenever crossing a pass. 

5588 m high Xuebaoding seen from the 4007 m high pass overlooking Huanglong Valley. 

Xuebaoding in the background and the roof of the highest temple (Huanglong Si), a Daoist temple, silhouetted in the foreground. The original temple was built in the Ming Dynasty. It is heavily reconstructed today and was not open to visitors. It is also here that the annual festival Huanglong festival is held in spring.

Incredibly hardworking "beifus" carrying up to 100 kilos of wooden planks to the upper reaches of Huanglong Park to construct new walkways for park visitors. They make on an average 40 yuan a day. If they start very early in the morning and carry two loads a day they can make double. It is extremely hard work at this altitude (many of the tourists were sucking on oxygen bottles and all they had to carry was one small bottle of water). Many of them come from the earthquake areas and are desperate to find work anywhere they can. Every one of them met us with a smile as they were walking up and some of them asked for water to drink. Everytime I visit a scenic area or famous mountain in China I think of the enormous amount of work put into constructing the thousands and thousands of stone and wood steps and walkways. Truly coolie labor at its worst in my opinion, I think these workers deserve much better. 

The stone pagodas in the foreground are said to be the tomb of a Tang Dynasty general and his wife.  At this time of year the pools were the most beautiful powdery blue.

The classic postcard view of the upper pools of Huanglong.


All photos ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn

HUANGLONG

After we left Songpan we headed back to Chengdu via Huánglóng and Píngwǔ. Huanglong is only 90 minutes by car from Songpan and one of the world's most stunning nature areas. Over 3,000 pools of incredible shades of powdery turquoise blue cascade down the mountain side beneath Xuebaoding Mountain (5588 m). Xuebaoding is the highest mountain in the Minshan Mountain Range, located only 300 km north-northwest of Chengdu as the crows flies. The pools are made from calcite deposits and have taken thousands and thousands of years to create. We visited Huanglong on May 5th, an absolutely brilliant day but still quite early in the season. The surrounding vegetation was brown and the rhododendrons were still only fat buds, almost ready to unfurl their beauty. At this time of year there is only water in the uppermost pools behind the highest temple. End of summer (lush green vegetation) and autumn (yellow, red and green leaves) are the very best times to visit Huanglong with all the pools and waterfalls bursting with water. If you are lucky to visit just after a heavy snowfall in winter everything will be blanketed in white snow, only the turquoise water of the upper pools showing. In winter the park can however sometimes be closed. 

There is a cable car at Huanglong that I highly recommend all to take. The entrance is located down the road from the main entrance. The Swiss made cable car takes you up to a high altitude viewing platform with views over the entire valley. From here it is a one hour walk on a basically level walkway straight to where the path connects with the main gate path just beneath the upper temple. From this point it is a short walk up to the upper pools. Down again to the main gate is an almost 5 km walk over planked paths and steps. Believe me, it is much easier going down than up and if you want to fully enjoy all the areas of Huanglong with ample time to truly enjoy the scenery - spend the money on the cable car. 

Huanglong means "Yellow Dragon" and takes its name from how the pools ripple down the mountain side, just like the scales of an enormous dragon. No other place in the world has such a large collection of pools as here, it is truly unique. 

Entrance fee: 

200 y full adult price/150 y for children over 1.30 m (under 1.30 free) and anyone over 65 yrs old. Cable car up is 80 y and down 40 y. 

Songpan Horse Trek part 13 Songpan Town 松潘

Central covered Bridge on Main Street, looking south.

South Gate, looking south from central covered bridge.

Tibetan shopkeeper with amber hair decorations and turquoise and coral silver jewelry.

Red coral and amber hair decorations and a traditional friendly greeting - sticking your tongue out.

Even monks like a little walkabout to check out the action and shop a little. 

Sonpgan is about 20-30% muslim.

Teahouses along the Min River are as much for drinking tea as for playing mahjong. 

Bread! A delicacy in China.

On the way to school - a baozi a day keeps the doctor away.

Yinyue Bridge, renovated with kind donations from local Songpaners in 1986.

The Chinese princess Wencheng (Wénchéng Gōngzhǔ 文成公主, Tib. Mung-chang Kungco) passed through Songpan during the Tang Dynasty (ca year 640 or 641) when she was travelling to Lhasa to wed the Tibetan King Songtsen Gampo in a peace agreement between the two nations. She was a niece of Emperor Taizong and died in 680. I must admit I am not sure who is the man beside her, surely not Songtsen Gampo as Wencheng was transported to Lhasa by a high official and was rumored to actually be pregnant with his child by the time she arrived in Lhasa almost a year later.