Into thin air. Part I.

The timing of this entire China experience has been “off.” Once we knew we could not be here for the full academic year, we had to negotiate a way to make it work within both the terms of our employer and the terms of the Fulbright program, as well as the un-official terms of a pre-teen daughter in her first year of middle school. The plan we finally found workable was for Art to arrive first, in early February, and for Elle and I to join him in early March (giving us enough time here in China to qualify for dependent benefits). Our departure from California was weeks ahead of Elle’s regularly scheduled two-week spring break from her California middle school, but we went ahead and inserted an “early” two-week break at the beginning of our time here, to give her a chance to (re)acclimate to China and get over the jet lag, and because sending her to a new private school for just one week at the tail end of its winter term meant thousands of dollars (even at the best pro-rated terms). Even the school suggested we wait until March 21, the start of their spring term, for Elle to begin. And so… we have now been here in China for two weeks, and are just waiting out a few more days until Elle’s first day at CDIS (an amazing school that will get its own post one day). Then it may feel like we are back “on” track… though we’ve certainly been filling our days.

Notes from our trip to Jiuzhaigou last week.

Our first flight there was almost a disaster, but ended happily. Our morning flight was probably the worst white-knuckled flight of Art’s or my life. After our pilot attempted, and then missed our landing (we were flying through a wintery storm, attempting to land on a bluff on top of a mountain), he aborted (smartly) and flew us safely all the way back to Chengdu. We waited four or five hours for a second plane (the airline had carted us by charter bus to a local restaurant where we were well-fed but kept in suspense about what might be happening), and another chance to get there. Our second flight to Jiuzhai Valley was smooth sailing and technically uneventful, though flying into the Jiuzhai-Huanglong airport which sits at 11,500 feet is breath-taking even when uneventful.

Jiuzhaigou (“nine village valley”) is located in Sichuan Province’s Min Shan mountain range on the edge of the Tibetan plateau. We’d considered staying at the very cool-sounding Tibetan homestay recommended by friends, but opted instead for the Hotel InterContinental Resort. After the events of flying/re-flying, I was kind of glad we had (in spite of my–see below–declaration to “embrace wild China”). Also, our luck for the trip changed at check-in: an upgrade to a luxurious two bedroom, two bath suite with heavenly beds and two cozy fireplaces. Balconies jutting out into the tops of pine trees. Wild China? Baby steps.

On our way to the park entrance on day one, along (literally) a long and winding road, a yak sauntered off the mountain and onto the road right beside our car. The way they do here.

The Jiuzhai Valley National Park itself is top notch: a UNESCO World Heritage site and a supremely well-run park with mountains and trails and lakes and waterfall for days. It’s just the very beginning of spring in China and so the crowds were minimal and the park was fairly quiet. We’d been warned to get there before April when the crowds grow too dense to truly enjoy the place.

We learned that the three of us can walk for hours, in quiet meditation, quite happily… in keeping with my plans for us to embrace “wild China” and my insistence that we get out of the cities and temples this time, and into China’s beautiful woods and mountains. That said, we were never “off trail” in Jiuzhaigou. The entire park is well-marked, with miles of wooden, boardwalk-like “trails” that make the park accessible to all. This is gentle walking. Not hiking.

Still, there were periods of time when we were clipping along all alone in the silent woods, and that was all I needed.

The bright sunshine and warmer air on day two was a much needed respite after just one week in Chengdu.

Something new we noticed on the trails, at resting spots where groups of Chinese gathered for lunch: self-heating rice and noodle dishes pulled out of backpacks and brought to bubbling hot in minutes. Sans camping stove. Must investigate this further (or perhaps we Svensons are just really out of the camping loop and these are common everywhere?).

The park is divided into two forks. We took the left side on our first day, the right side on our second (you could spend days on either side). Bright green shuttle vans transport you to the top and you then spend the day mostly working your way downhill, with many choices among the paths to take. Lakes along the way were in graduated stages of thawing, with water in assorted greens and blues (dictated by the limestone and algae content).

We stopped at a few roadside outcroppings inside the park: mostly tourist areas covered in colorful Tibetan prayer flags, random taxidermy, packaged teas, shiny souvenirs. The air an even mix of cigarettes and incense. Shrines with stone offerings and beautiful people with rugged red cheeks wearing thick layers. I wish now that we’d done the homestay.

Many Chinese tourists still request to take a photo with us. Well, mostly with Art.

Already, I’m accumulating a mother load lot of phone photos and camera photos. None are brilliant photography. They are my journals, and tell different stories. These below are from one camera. The very first is Long Lake: still in its wintery, frozen state.