THE EXOTIC CAMEL FAIR.

People camp here for the duration of the fair, just like our own fairs. But they have no electricity or laundromat.

She is obviously older and Ranvir explained to us that India has only a guess at their population, that is changing now. He asked her, Mother, how old are you? She said, I don’t know, but I think I’m about 70.

This man has a food booth with huge pots of wonderful smelling  broth or soup.  One pot I could see rice and lentils and another with vegetables in a rich gravy. we watched him serve a customer and he used this dirty rag to clean the stainless steel plate he used to dish it up. It didn’t bother his customer.

In this booth, a couple cooks naan sitting on the table with a portable adobe stove.

Then we meet what we in the U.S. would call a snake oil salesman. He sells bottles of elixir, (as good as viagra) some to ingest, others in pill form or a salve to rub on your skin  to cure just about everything.

The Chinese have wonderful herbal medicines, and the herbs are very impressive as he explains to us how things work.  So several of us try his arthritis oil. Oh, well. My bottle cost me in rupees the equivalent of 16 cents.

This young man is training a beautiful black horse.

The current fad is to get animals to walk on their hind legs. Ranvir asked him how much he was asking for his horse. Not for sale. He plans to make it a champion and will breed it someday.

As we walked this dusty road, a parade walked by us.

This man casually leads three camels. They seem to be very docile animals.

These two are all decorated and beautifully groomed just like my daughter did her horse at our fair. The similarities tickle memories.

I took a picture of this woman by a heavily patched tent because of the stuffed animal on the top. I asked to take a picture and a young girl immediately reached up and hauled it down for me to see. Again, a slight commonality with an American fair.

Ranvir talked to some animal buyers. He told us these guys don’t look rich. But they can plunk down $10,000 dollars for an animal-in rupees, of course.  He asked several of them how much they paid. One man we met was crying the blues because he sold his animals for $2,000 dollars and doesn’t have a bank account and no way to cash it. He couldn’t even buy anything to eat or drink. He asked us to give him rupees for his check.

The man with the cane is showing off and dancing all over the place. Ranvir warned us people at the fair might ask you to pay to take their picture, but don’t pay any more than 20 rupees. I asked and he said 500 rupees. So, I said no. He then began his dance.

Then he came right up to me and let me take his picture for free. Ranvir said, “He’s drunk. They come from small villages and this is the event of the year for them. So, they drink and party and have fun.” Another similarity of our fairs.  Too funny.

We found a show ring where the horse has been trained to walk on hind feet.

And then made to dance on a bed. A drummer keeps up a cadence. These horses are a unique breed called twist eared rajasthans.

Remember our bad actor from the camel yard? Here he danced on the bed as well. I’m short and got buried in the crowd and couldn’t get the picture.  Ranvir said dancing animals on the beds is something new this year.

This man is loading up sand into a truck. He has just met Hugo.

Hugo wants to help. And he very quickly shoveled a load of sand into the pan.

He does have flair for entertainment. He would be a hit at our fair in  Angels Camp.

Everything gets decorated for the fair, machines, tents, animals.

Back at camp,  I sit out and enjoy the dancing and the music.

A magician struts his stuff.


Theo retired early. We both gratefully  curled up with the hot water bottle delivered to each bed at night.

THE SNOW COVERED MOUNTAIN.

Wu tells us there is speculation that Eskimo culture and Western Canadian natives, all of whom built totems, are descended from Tibetan mountain tribes.

We ride on this very curvy mountain road, with plenty of switchbacks, part paved and part gravel,  steadily climbing.  There is grass, and an occasional meadow,  and a few trees.  No houses or signs of habitation. We pass a couple of kiosks  with people selling trinkets. No sign of where their village is, or how they get there. Then, in the middle of nowhere this beautiful building. It is a restaurant where we are having lunch. We shake our heads. This is China.

In front of the restaurant is this handsome fellow adjusting the feathers on his hat. Without the language we can’t engage him. Vicki is arguing with someone inside and comes out complaining about “government-run restaurants”  but eventually we are seated and enjoyed a marvelous lunch. But for all 14 of us and other wayfarers, there was one western toilet and  several pit toilets outside with very little cover.

We came to a bridge over the river and wranglers were washing and watering their yaks. We wanted to get out and take pictures, but there was no place to park the bus. We begged and Vicki gave us ONE MINUTE.

I climbed down and got a couple more shots, but the place was mobbed and I couldn’t get close. Just the sounds,  the cool water and colorful clothing was enough as four of us  ran back to the bus parked on the bridge.

We arrive in the village of Hanzai at the base of the mountain.  We are greeted by colorful booths with all manner of souvenirs and memorable foods, mostly cooked over open braziers.It was tantalizing.  Exotic foods cooking mixed with a bit of incense burning.

We know instantly why that state-run restaurant is so strategically placed. It is lunch time and the booths are crowded with a mass of hungry humanity. You can’t blame our guide for not wanting us to try these foods because then she has the extra work of caring for someone who gets sick.  A sick person affects the whole group.

One dish was hanarobi cooking in oil. It is a flat dough with rounds of some kind of sausage resembling  salami inside, fried on a 3 foot diameter wok. With boiling hot pots everywhere, spices and chili scenting the air, it was wonderful enough just smelling my way from kiosk to kiosk.

If you can’t afford the high-priced food in the kiosks, you can bring along your own raw duck and cook it on a portable brazier as this family did.

Our goal today is to take a gondola from the village at 7,800 feet to this huge meadow at 10,000 feet to photograph the mountain. It is a couple of miles from where the gondola drops us and we hike the trail  to a boardwalk with a spectacle before us.

Michele Maurer engages an English-speaking, costumed model.

A wooden stage of kiosks sits in the meadow beneath the beautiful mountain.

We have our choice of costumed models  with whom we can have our picture taken in front of the  mountain. It seems a little Disneylandish to us and we decline.

The Chinese tourists seem to love it.

It was a bit hazy, but I got a picture of the much touted mountain peak with an unpronounceable name.

A couple of models taking a break.

If they catch you taking a picture, the hand comes out immediately for money. It is probably unfair and impolite to sneak pictures of them when this is their livelihood. I didn’t get many but it was definitely worth the hike in to enjoy this very unusual experience at the base of this lovely mountain.

The gondola ride down gives a good view how steep it is, and of the surrounding area.  Each car carries two people.

I got paired with this lovely Chinese woman. I smiled. She smiled. I talked, she didn’t understand a word I said. She talked and I didn’t understand a word she said.  I indicated I’d like to take her picture and she assented. Then near the end of the ride, the gondola slows so a photographer can take a Polaroid picture that is instantly developed and waiting for you when you are unhitched from your gondola. I thought I would buy the picture for my companion. She had the same thought  and she held up her hand and said “No pay!” and bought the picture for me. I remembered how to say thank you in Chinese as Vicki taught us. We walked out together smiling and she brought me over to meet her family. Her daughter, Annie, spoke perfect English and was visiting the home country from San Diego. What a small world. We all hugged goodbye.
As I got on the bus, everyone was talking about the Chinese sex “manuals.” Everyone but me had seen them. One of my tour mates pointed to a kiosk near the bus parking. I made the driver wait while I ran over and bought one. Tedd told me that when he boarded our ship, one of the workers approached him surreptitiously and offered him a set. We laughed, he turned them down and I bought one. I was curious and obviously everyone else was too or they wouldn’t have been talking about them.  I passed them around for everyone to see. They are made from two-inch square pieces of bone, nine of them,  joined together in a circle like a bracelet, each carving showing a sexual position.
My partner, Michal is sick as we make a last stop at the end of the parking lot for the pit toilets. These  were the worst ever seen on the trip. God awful, dripping, stinking things really unusable. Thankfully, I’m a camel and didn’t have to deal with it.  Tomorrow, Tiger Leaping Gorge.

THE GONDOLA AT HANZAI.

Our guide Wu pushed us to leave the quaint  Naxi village of Yunshangping and head  up the mountain to Hanzai.  The road is gravel out of the village but is paved as we near Hanzai.  In the middle of nowhere, no town, no warning, we come to a huge modern restaurant that Wu tells us is the only one that serves travelerson  on this rural  mountain road.
I grabbed a quick picture of a man adjusting his feathers, just because he was so exotic looking. Haven’t a clue who, what, why; no one near by to ask.  A five star restaurant in a place like this?  Obviously government run.

Under a bridge over terraced falls, locals are bathing their yaks in the glacial waters. Vicki okays a one minute stop for a picture because there is no place to park the bus.
The cowboys were quite laid back, taking a break, with plenty of watchers besides the few of us who got out and grabbed a picture from above.

Lunch time is in full swing as we arrive in Hanzai.  Braiziers and  portable woks  reveal a fascinating variety of  foods we don’t recognize and would love to try. One can’t blame Vicki, or any tour guide for that matter, to ask us not to eat at vendors like this because then she has to deal with someone who gets sick on the tour.

 Some of the foods are recognizable, but the hot pots with boiling oil, spices and chilis scenting the air mixed with a bit of burning incense wafting by?  You know you aren’t in Kansas.
I’m such a foodie. Oh how I wanted to taste the hanarabi made by taking a piece of flat dough with rounds of what looks like salami wrapped  inside of it and then fried in a wok that measures three feet across.  And boiled peanuts. Ah…well, its a good thing Vicki made sure we were well fed. The sights and smells really are an unforgettable memory.

This young couple appeared to be getting ready to cook duck for their lunch on the sidewalk.

But, we are here to see and photograph the mountain, and we load into a gondola in Hanzai at 7,800 feet elevation that carries us to a flat, beautiful meadow at 10,000 feet.

We take the boardwalk about a half mile through the woods and run into exotically costumed Naxi people from the Mossel tribe and they are not shy about  picture taking.

Since it is lunch time, these people appear to be enjoying a picnic on the grass.

We arrive at the meadow and see 30 or more kiosks and soon learn why these Naxi people are readily photographed.

For what to us is a small fee you can have your picture taken with a costumed Naxi with the beautiful mountain in the background.  Chinese tourists line up for the pose but our group avoided the commercialism and simply enjoyed the atmosphere.

Riding the gondola back down was particularly enjoyable for the  beautiful view of the surrounding area.

I talked to my gondola mate and she couldn’t understand a word I said. She spoke to me and I couldn’t understand a word she said. We smiled and talked. She accented to a picture. As the gondola nears the bottom it slows for the photographers to take a picture with their polaroids. They quickly lay them out so that by the time you get unhitched you can see your picture and buy it. I thought I’d buy the picture for my friendly companion. She held up a hand and said, “No pay!”  She bought the picture for me, instead. I was grateful that I remembered how to say thank you in Chinese. She indicated that I should walk with her and she took me to meet her daughter. Annie, it turns out, spoke perfect English. She was on vacation from San Diego. What a delightful exchange.
When I got on the bus, everyone was talking about the Chinese sex manuals. Sex manuals?  It turned out I was the only one who hadn’t seen them. One of my tour mates pointed at a kiosk in the bus parking lot. The bus was running but Vicky wasn’t aboard yet. I got off the bus and bought one. Tedd told me at dinner that night that some of the workers on board the ship had surreptitiously tried to sell him those same carvings. He didn’t buy and I did. We laughed. I was curious and obviously so was everyone else or they wouldn‘t have been talking about them. I passed them around the bus for everyone to see. They are 2 inch square pieces of bone joined together in a circle like a bracelet, showing sexual positions.
I complained about the pit toilets at the tourist center?  Oh, these were much worse. Thank goodness I’m a camel and could choose to wait until we got back to Jiliang.