Journey to Western Yunnan: Shangri-La — Deqin
D1: Shangri-La
One hour before the holiday, the boss said we’d return to work on the 6th of National Day. My heart immediately sank—did the planned 8-day itinerary have to be scrapped? I wasn’t willing! They could deduct my salary however they wanted—more wouldn’t make me a rich man, less wouldn’t turn me into a poor ghost. But life experiences can’t be bought with any amount of money.
The day before departure was Mid-Autumn Festival. When I woke up, there was heavy rain outside the window. Because there were too many uncertainties, after eating a piece of mooncake the company gave, I went to the bus station to buy a ticket to Shangri-La for October 1st. I originally wanted to take a more comfortable hard-seat bus to Lijiang first, then transfer to Shangri-La, but the buses to Lijiang were 20-30 yuan more expensive than usual, while the direct sleeper bus to Shangri-La was only a few yuan cheaper. So considering both economy and time, I went direct to Shangri-La. That’s how traveling goes—lots of Schrödinger’s cats.
Twelve years ago, Shangri-La was called Zhongdian. For tourism economic development, it was renamed to this now world-famous name, but to this day many people still call it Zhongdian County. There’s only one sleeper bus to Shangri-La per day, taking 12 hours total. This was my first time on a sleeper bus. Besides the dirty, slightly smelly blanket, it was quite comfortable at first. After a few hours out of the city limits, the bus was crawling along mountain streams—roaring river on the right, rugged cliffs on the left. Although the driver must know the road conditions very well, “those who walk by the river often will eventually get their shoes wet.” I couldn’t control the bus’s direction, but at least I might witness my own death, so I didn’t dare close my eyes the whole way. Besides, the scenery along the way is also part of the journey. Later I couldn’t stand viewing the scenery while lying down and wanted to sit up to look, only to discover how anti-human a sleeper bus is as a passenger vehicle—my head almost touched the ceiling, windows were below eye level, even more uncomfortable than lying down. In the end, I could only lie on my side to view the scenery. This posture was very strange—besides the ancient people in landscape paintings lying on the ground with feather fans and silk scarves admiring mountains, I really couldn’t think of anyone else who appreciated the motherland’s beautiful rivers and mountains while lying flat.
The bus passed through Huaping and Yongsheng counties before reaching Lijiang. If it were road conditions in the eastern regions, it would be ordinary, but unfortunately this is the western mountainous area—we spent six hours to get there. The more dangerous section was Jin’an Bridge Hydropower Station. After the bus followed the mountain stream to Jin’an Bridge, it wound along the mountain road for another 45 minutes and we could still see the river valley. It seemed that besides the altitude increasing, the straight-line distance to Lijiang hadn’t changed at all. After Jin’an Bridge, we arrived at Yongsheng County seat in the river valley plain. Just outside the county seat, we saw tobacco planting bases for Zhonghua and Huanghelou brands. From this flat area, after walking a few hundred meters, the view suddenly opened up—as if suddenly suspended in mid-air. Below was a huge sedimentary plain. Sunlight pierced through gaps in distant clouds, stabbing straight light columns onto the golden dam, dotted with villages here and there. If the drop weren’t so great, if we could still hear chickens and dogs, this dam would resemble Tao Yuanming’s peach blossom spring.
The bus passed Lijiang at dusk. City lights twinkled, various out-of-town vehicles on the roadside—no interest at all. Good thing I was just passing through. Further ahead it became night. I couldn’t see anything, lying on the bunk, watching the clear starlight outside the window and the moon just emerging over the eastern mountains. Memory took me back to childhood—spreading a mat in the pitch-black backyard, with some fear of the dark, propping my head on my arm to look up at the bright moon and stars in the sky, just as clear as tonight’s Lijiang sky. Later I lived almost entirely in cities and couldn’t see the starry sky at night. I completely forgot those strange childhood sensations and almost forgot who I was.
By the time we arrived in Shangri-La it was already midnight. The temperature was slightly cold, and my head throbbed faintly—maybe due to the high altitude, or more likely the exhaustion from the long journey causing some hysteria. Anyway, on my first night in Shangri-La, I found a guesthouse right across from the bus station and went to sleep.
D2: Shangri-La Songzanlin Temple — Deqin Feilai Temple
My first night sleeping in Shangri-La, my brain stayed in light sleep the whole night, feeling like I was flying close to the ground the entire time, drifting through many unfamiliar places in a daze. With anticipation for a wonderful journey on the Diqing Plateau, I woke up a little after 7 AM, couldn’t wait to pull open the curtains to see what it looked like outside. My first glance was disappointing—the sky was predictably overcast with clouds, and since the cloud layer wasn’t high, it felt quite oppressive. Plus, the streets below the window were covered in dust, and combined with the chaotic shops and cold morning, the city looked very rundown. But a minute or two later I cheered up—because the guesthouse I stayed at was on the edge of the county seat. Isn’t that what the urban-rural fringe of Chinese cities looks like? I had asked the guesthouse owner the night before—he was from Guang’an, so we were technically fellow townsmen. He told me in Shangri-La I could visit Songzanlin Temple and Pudacuo. Considering my itinerary originally had no Shangri-La stop, but since I was here, not visiting one or two attractions would waste the 12-hour hardship, so I went to the nearby Songzanlin Temple.
Yunnan tourist tickets are already rip-offs. With the massive influx of National Day tourists, if they didn’t discount, public resentment would surely rise. They probably knew this themselves, so the day before Mid-Autumn Festival, Yunnan tourist sites urgently cut ticket prices by 25%. Songzanlin Temple’s ticket after discount was 91 yuan. I hadn’t done any Shangri-La travel research beforehand and had no idea about Songzanlin Temple. Given such an expensive ticket, I assumed it must have magnificent architecture and boundless spiritual power. Looking at the ticket in my hand, it showed a very familiar, grand golden-roofed temple. It turned out to be the temple I’d seen over and over online called Songzanlin Temple. I came here without planning—it was fate.
Songzanlin Temple was much smaller than imagined, but from a distance its imposing presence was extremely grand. Up close, I realized it was built on a small hilltop, with small monk residences built all around it. With these monk quarters surrounding it like stars around the moon, the three golden-roofed main halls of Songzanlin Temple appeared splendid and moving.
Out of respect for faith, photography wasn’t allowed inside the temple. I followed the temple’s tour guide wandering inside. Unfortunately, even the sacred Sakyamuni Buddha Hall couldn’t accommodate so much worldly noise—I heard nothing. Above the Buddha hall were eternal lamps for praying for family safety. Devotees had to give monks 10 yuan to light one. I requested one to be lit beneath the Arhat statue. Although I’ve grown up around Buddhism, I’m not a believer. Still, I fell victim to the Chinese habit of worshipping Buddha when seeing one and ghosts when seeing one. If I dig deeper, I was lighting it on behalf of my grandma—she’s never left Sichuan. I wanted to tell her that in sacred Shangri-La, I lit a butter lamp for the family on her behalf.
After leaving Songzanlin Temple, I went straight back to the guesthouse where I’d slept the night before to pick up my backpack left with the owner, then caught a van to Deqin. There were seven passengers on the van—including me, only three tourists going to Feilai Temple, one Chongqing guy going to Benzilan on the Sichuan border to build a matsutake cold storage, and the rest going to Deqin County seat. On this Yunnan trip, I thank every driver who gave me a ride—they kept one hand on the wheel and one on the phone on narrow mountain roads without sending the car into the valley. The driver who took us to Feilai Temple was a twenty-something Tibetan guy. I chose his car because it was in good condition. On the way, we encountered a checkpoint. The traffic police asked him to show documents, and he could only produce the purchase certificate and driver’s license—no other insurance. It turned out to be a new car. facepalm But he still drove while on the phone and safely delivered us to Feilai Temple.
My first sight at Feilai Temple, I didn’t see Meili Snow Mountain. Despite being fully mentally prepared, I was still disappointed. I prayed for a strong wind to sweep away the clouds shrouding the peak. After sitting restlessly for a long time, I finally accepted reality. Then I wandered along National Highway 214 in the Feilai Temple scenic area, trying to find the Feilai Temple that isn’t a place name. After walking one or two kilometers with no sign, I had to turn back. I ran into a girl who asked me how to get to Feilai Temple. I said I was also looking for it—let’s find it together. Since we couldn’t see the snow mountain anyway. Later we chatted about everything while walking slowly and wandering around. I discovered I wasn’t as dull and speechless as I am in the city. It must be the freedom—on the road, I don’t have to take responsibility for what I say, don’t have to lie and cover up, don’t have to have evil thoughts about people’s money. I’m just a traveler who came specifically to see the scenery—nothing else. Later we actually found Feilai Temple—it was a small temple, a local people’s Bodhisattva temple. Then we ate together—ordered a plate of stir-fried yak meat and a plate of green pepper potato shreds. After splitting the bill, we said goodbye. At that time I thought I’d never run into her again in this lifetime—she was returning to Shangri-La tomorrow, I was going to Yubeng.