Xidong, Matrimonial Dress and Family

Exit China, enter Tibet.

No welcoming sign marked this border, in fact, a border doesn’t exist at all. Yet something here is different. Faces toughened by harsh sunlight and heavy workloads, Rosy cheeks over tanned skin. Time taken to connect to the earth, to come together in celebration, to give thanks for one’s blessings.


Here alongside the Mekong our group stayed in a small guest house in a town where no internet cafes could be found, no bakeries, no China Mobile shops. A simple convenience store in our guest house was the closest our group came to enjoying treats from the outside world. A sprite, a Snickers bar, a bottle of water. Due to an exciting stretch of river and the relaxing atmosphere of our new home, the group decided to stay here for over a week. It wasn’t until near the end of this time that I began to feel a connection to the amazing family whose home we shared.

I began by entering the kitchen to speak with Zachary, our translator. The great grandmother would usher me in to take a seat and immediately offer me Yak Butter Tea (a warm, salty, slightly thick beverage that while you continue to drink, you’re never really sure if you like it or not) and an assortment of surprisingly flavorless cookies and cakes. The students likened these enticing goodies to eating twigs made to look like rice crispy treats. They, along with the tea, began to grow on me.

One afternoon I asked if I could help cook dinner. I arrived as great grandma was heading to feed the pigs. Ladleing a soupy mixture of our leftovers into two buckets, she began to carry them on her back. I, of course, insisted that I do this work, amazed that she is still able to lift such heavy loads. This naturally relieved her and gave her some enjoyment at my initial struggle with the mechanism.

Returning to the kitchen I helped grandma and a young daughter of hers begin to prepare dinner. Over the deep wok, heated by a small wooden fire enclosed in the concrete structure, we heated oil and began dropping in ingredients and seasonings filling my nasal passages with pure, tasty bliss. The jalapeno peppers more so a fiery, sneeze-inducing bliss. I learned how to stir the fried rice, flatten the peppers and fry the meat. Yet, what I enjoyed the most was spending this time with these women. They laughed at my ignorance and I smiled, knowing that it made them happy I was choosing to spend my time with them. I returned the following day, our last, to help prepare other meals and pass the time in this warm little kitchen where aromas swirled and foreign languages filled the air.

Our group requested the presence of the family members of the household (grandparents, moms, dads, nephews, nieces, aunts, uncles, kinds, etc) for a photo of everyone on our last evening at the guesthouse. The family interpreted this invitation as a call for celebration. The women quickly grabbed Kristi and I, the only two females in our group, and guided us to their rooms. Here all the women of the family began to layer us in traditional Tibetan wear. Silk shirts with sleeves reaching the floor, heavy dresses and layer upon layer of cloth wraps. To garnish, thick necklaces laden with local orange coral beads and large silver pendants hung from our necks while similar ornaments were wrapped around our waists. Lastly, a headdress with tassels, balls and string were placed on our heads. We were instantly 40 pounds heavier and more colorful than a box of lucky charms. Along with a few other transformed male group members, we joined everyone in the family’s worship room. The students and other teachers were shocked, not aware of the reason for our delay. A photo shoot ensued until we all settled into seats, chatting and sipping on our homemade barley wine (or rather the teachers were sipping on the wine).

As is tradition, our young host got up to sing a beautiful Tibetan song. Upon completion it soon became apparent that we were to all individually to get up in from the group to sing, as per tradition. While some of the students had to be dragged to the front and forced out a verse of twinkle-twinkle little star, others rattled off verses of music ranging from country to rap to bluegrass. I chose “Down to the River to Pray”, a short and beautiful tune by Allison Krausse, one of my favorites.

The rest of the night was spent sharing photos and videos of our travels and our exploits on the river. After a hearty breakfast of rice porrage, hard-boiled eggs, steamed rolls and noodle bowls, we sadly bit our farewells to this family with which we all felt a strong connection. When the great grandmother began to cry at our departure, holding our hand and motioning for us to return, we knew we would not forget our time here.

Photos by Adam Elliot

These are some photos from the Yangtze taken by our Trip Leader with Last Descents River Tours, Adam Elliot. His photos are breathtaking and capture the moment in a light unseen by most others

Group shot!

Yubon - The Roadless Tibetan Village

The clanging of cowbells echoes across the high mountain walls surrounding our small guesthouse. While their song fills these parts from sunrise to sunset, this hour marks the symphony’s grand finale. Yaks, horses, donkeys and other large farm mammals saunter down from the hills where they grazed away the day’s hours. Each bell chimes a slightly different pitch, making the overall sound quite harmonious rather than painfully obnoxious. The sun has dropped behind the snowy peak in the foreground, looming over this small mountain village. The crisp air creeps out of the shadows where it took refuge during the sun’s daily reign and I must immediately don more layers to my poorly adapted form. Two horses veer off the path to drink from the stream, both moving on as if a silent consensus took place as to whether they were satiated. A fat pig ambles by, nipples hanging low, with five little piglets scrambling to keep up at her feet. No fences line the fields here, holding the animals inside. They seem to instinctively know where to go for food and where to return for rest at the end of the day. Perhaps they learned it from their ancestors, being passed on for centuries.

Our arrival yesterday afternoon culminated a journey that brought new highs with each bend of the trail. Once I found a steady pace, my legs carried me up the steep, dusty path, through forests and over rocks and ice. As we rounded the apex of the mountain standing between the small, road less village Yubeng and the town Xidong, evidence of the land’s sacredness emerged. Strings of prayer flags linked branches overhead and alongside the path. Flapping loudly with the wind, or silently waving in the breeze their colors danced as massive snowy peaks emerged in the distance. The small village emerged nestled in the valley floor below as we descended slightly on the backside of the mountain.

The following 2 days were the closest WCKA gets to having a vacation. No one brought school materials and no workouts were scheduled for the next full day. Students were able to sleep in, rest, read and explore the village and surrounding mountains to thier heart's content.

A large group of us hiked further up to the base of the glaciers, seemingly in reach of the summit. We passed trees covered in trinkets offered to the spirits by travelers, webs of prayer flags shading the path, and a creek bed covered in cairns built to direct one's soul toward heaven as it leaves the earth. It was as if the closer we got to the peaks, the stronger the connection to the earth was felt. An unexplainable sensation.

We reached the melting glaciers where members of the group refilled thier bottles and we basked in the sunlight. Melting ice chunks broke free and tumbled to the ground with echoing explosions. Ivan and I helped Kristi hang several strings of prayer flags, each for a dear friend. We then sat in this intricate web of colors, imagining all the billions prayers flying over the mountains and land into every part of this massive country and beyond. Its amazing how simple pieces of cloth on a string can evoke such a vast feeling of peace in one's mind and body. Far different from the flags hanging on the porches of dilapidated college homes. Yet now even those flags will remind me of their true meaning.
We discussed deep philosophical matters and simple moments of joy. Everything with an undertone of gratitude.
Once the sun set and another Chinese meal had satiated our bellies I joined some of the students in capturing the full moon's light upon the snowy peak. We experimented further with the use of our headlamps to create messages in the photos. Another teacher, LJ, was able to produce this photo for the school's blog. Pretty impressive.
We rested well that night and prepared for our hike out the next morning.











This experience will surely be one of my most memorable from our entire stay in China.

Today I am frustrated and overwhelmed and tired and slightly cranky and confused and just wanting to run away. But you'll have that.

We over the half-way point in the semester and I am entering into material that I am not as well-versed in. Therefore, it takes me longer to prep for each class so that not only do I understand the topic, but that I can also convey this topic to my students. On top of this, we are trying to complete 3 more weeks of class before we leave China, making for several day and a half of classes. Less prep time for Susan. Some days I must opt out of kayaking to complete this, and others my day is just made up of a continual sequence of reading, writing, talking, eating, sitting on bus (reading more), kayaking, planning, eating...and so on. At the end of these days I brush my teeth and a huge smile covers my face as I know all I have left to do is crawl under my comforter and rest. The toy at the bottom of the cereal box.

These days are also exciting because I know it can only get easier. I write down my ideas to make this process easier next time around, I promise myself I will work on this and prepare a better and more interesting class for the next time around. Because I know I am good at this, I just need a bit of time to work out the kinks.