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This is the most wonderful city! We randomly discovered it in a guide book and kind of just decided to come here for sure when we couldn't get a ticket to our next destination and here we are. Xiahe is just one street long and ends in the Labrang Monastery, the largest Tibetan institution outside of Tibet (though according to the Tibetans who live here, this is still Tibet, even though the 'official' border of the country is quite a ways south of here.) Anyways, this town is full of wonderful traditional people in their diverse garb. There are very few Han Chinese, the minorities not actually minorities in this area. Also, about every third person here is a monk dressed in burgandy and magenta robes. It provides for quite an atmosphere.
The Labrang Monastery itself is striking. The outside of the buildings not so much, but inside there are tall golden buddhas, prayer flags and wheels, and the walls are covered in tapestries, paintings or just colorful fabrics. The smell of yak butter candles was almost overpowering sometimes. The candles cover every surface and are always lit. More prayer wheels cover the circumference of the monastery, going about three quarters of the way around the building, with monks, pilgrims or buddhists in general making the rounds, spinning each wheel as they go by.
Today Mom and I got in a van with 6 other travellers and 2 Tibetans to go explore the Ganjia grasslands. Once there, they let us out of the car to just walk for a bit, looking into the distance at the green hills and at our feet at the wildflowers and teeny grasshoppers that would bounce out of the way with every step you took. We stopped twice just to BE there, then a third time at holy cave, where the Tibetan nomads that live in the grasslands come to pray. We got to go into the cave (which our guides kept insisting were "Very Dangerous!") to explore, and were led by a young monk. About 2 minutes into the dark cave, lit only by our own flashlights and candles, most of our group chickened out and just a Belgian, a Dutchman, Mom and I continued, with our monk and guide of course. Most of the time we were clutching our candles close while trying both to grip a slippery rope and keep our feet planted on the mud covered stones. Once we had reppeled down a short way we were informed that we may touch a certain rock and pray. The Dutchman prayed that he would not die in the cave, as another Dutchman had done last year. Knowing about that last guy, the four of us decided not to do the "difficult" part of the cave. It was quite an experience though, I came out of the cave with mud and wax on my hands and arms and my pants ripped at the seams in the worst possible place.
Out of the cave, I made friends with the monk who had been our guide. He made me tea and told me that he had never, I repeat, NEVER left the Ganjia grasslands, even to go the monastery in Xiahe, maybe an hour away. Wow. Though here I must point out that that hour is the bumpiest hour you may ever spend in your life. Even Cambodian roads don't hold a candle to the dips and jolts of the so-called roads in this little corner of central China. (I mean Tibet!)
Back in town this afternoon mom and I ate some great Tibetan food and went shopping where I bought an awesome Tibetan bell and a bunch of jingly, brass bells which, by sound alone, will help me identify my bag in any lineup. If the lineup is shaking that is. We leave in the morning, but I would happily hang out longer in this city full of wonderful characters. With my long orange skirt, I can even almost fit in!
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