06 August 2006
Postcard from Jiuzhaigou - July 2005
China never ceases to amaze me. It is changing so quickly that some things get out of kilter; take prices for example. A coffee at the airport is £5; a 3-course lunch is £1. A new thick anorak is £3; a Cohiba £12. A night at the stunning Jiuzhai Spa Resort is £25 a head; entry to the Jiuzhaigou park is also £25. Gulp. (There is also no functioning credit system in China, and many bills have to be settled in cash. The largest banknote is RMB 100: about £6. Shops are generally equipped with bill-counters, so when I, feeling like a drug-dealer, pay for all the internal flights by handing over a 5cm wad of notes, they feed it through the machine to confirm it’s the right amount.)
Anyway, this park is similar to the Plitvice lakes in Croatia: a beautiful valley with many lakes interconnected by waterfalls. There is a wooden slatted path you follow up and down the lakes. The park is too big to walk in its entirety, so there are shuttle buses between the main points. We are advised to arrive early, because it is very popular and gets crowded. The advice turns out to be misguided, in that all the tour groups arrive at 9:00 (the same time as us) so there is a zoo of flag-waving guides followed by tourists wearing colour-coordinated baseball caps. There was even a delegation of diplomats from Zambia, complete with police escort, who arrive at the lakes, have their photograph taken in front of a waterfall next to a rather luscious Tibetan girl, then leave. Time in resort: 8 minutes; we manage 8 hours. The other delightful thing is that the lake resort is so enormous, and the tourists on the guided tours so unadventurous that, once in the park, we hardly see anyone.
It goes without saying that this is of such breathtaking beauty that any photo looks flat in comparison. The waters are a crystal-clear aquamarine and there are more waterfalls than most people would likely otherwise see in their lifetime. In winter apparently the waterfalls half-freeze, and in summer there are insects everywhere but relatively few birds. We see a Chinese squirrel that looks like a cross between a raccoon and a hamster. There are quite a few fish, but we don’t see anything larger than a few cm in length. The water is full of trees that have died and fallen into the water, lying at the bottom seemingly preserved, as well as many trees still alive and growing in the shallows and the rapids approaching the waterfalls. George asks the chicken and egg question: “what came first, the trees or the water?”. It’s a good question, because in places the water is quite deep and fast-flowing round the tree, as if the ground has been flooded. We see a clump of grass about 10 cm across, that sticks up as an island through about 30cm of water. There are plants that have had their soil so washed away by the fast-flowing water that large clumps of red roots are showing.
The most impressive section is where the walkway crosses between two lakes, in the middle of a diagonal waterfall. The upper lake is at eye level, and the water rushes past underfoot to land several metres below on the other side. It’s a great place for photos (and to get wet).
There are 9 villages in the valley (Jiuzhaigou means Nine Villages Valley), built in the Tibetan style of either ornately painted wood, or loose stone (the latter look as if they are either not yet finished or about to be demolished). There are water-powered prayer-wheels (for those too lazy to pray themselves we are told), and prayer flags everywhere. One enterprising person has built his small house on stilts over fast moving water, with a horizontal waterwheel underneath, presumably for electricity.
One of the villages is full of tourist shops, and we stop and talk to an elderly woman in traditional dress, carrying her granddaughter. She refuses to be photographed, but the setting could be something out of National Geographic.
At the end of the day, having had our fill of rushing water, we take the bus back down. The driver is keen to practice his English (we are the only Europeans on the bus) and announces in English at every bus stop on the way down: “This is called Dragon Lake. Would anyone like to stop here and take a photograph?” It’s not that he expects us to say yes (it is after all the end of the day and everyone is leaving), it’s just that he wants to practice his English. We saw that earlier in the day when we stop to chat with one of the park wardens (strictly speaking: more of a cleaner) and she explains she has a daughter who would like to become a tourist guide, and would we have time to give her an English lesson?
Next stop is Beijing, the capital.
Anyway, this park is similar to the Plitvice lakes in Croatia: a beautiful valley with many lakes interconnected by waterfalls. There is a wooden slatted path you follow up and down the lakes. The park is too big to walk in its entirety, so there are shuttle buses between the main points. We are advised to arrive early, because it is very popular and gets crowded. The advice turns out to be misguided, in that all the tour groups arrive at 9:00 (the same time as us) so there is a zoo of flag-waving guides followed by tourists wearing colour-coordinated baseball caps. There was even a delegation of diplomats from Zambia, complete with police escort, who arrive at the lakes, have their photograph taken in front of a waterfall next to a rather luscious Tibetan girl, then leave. Time in resort: 8 minutes; we manage 8 hours. The other delightful thing is that the lake resort is so enormous, and the tourists on the guided tours so unadventurous that, once in the park, we hardly see anyone.
It goes without saying that this is of such breathtaking beauty that any photo looks flat in comparison. The waters are a crystal-clear aquamarine and there are more waterfalls than most people would likely otherwise see in their lifetime. In winter apparently the waterfalls half-freeze, and in summer there are insects everywhere but relatively few birds. We see a Chinese squirrel that looks like a cross between a raccoon and a hamster. There are quite a few fish, but we don’t see anything larger than a few cm in length. The water is full of trees that have died and fallen into the water, lying at the bottom seemingly preserved, as well as many trees still alive and growing in the shallows and the rapids approaching the waterfalls. George asks the chicken and egg question: “what came first, the trees or the water?”. It’s a good question, because in places the water is quite deep and fast-flowing round the tree, as if the ground has been flooded. We see a clump of grass about 10 cm across, that sticks up as an island through about 30cm of water. There are plants that have had their soil so washed away by the fast-flowing water that large clumps of red roots are showing.
The most impressive section is where the walkway crosses between two lakes, in the middle of a diagonal waterfall. The upper lake is at eye level, and the water rushes past underfoot to land several metres below on the other side. It’s a great place for photos (and to get wet).
There are 9 villages in the valley (Jiuzhaigou means Nine Villages Valley), built in the Tibetan style of either ornately painted wood, or loose stone (the latter look as if they are either not yet finished or about to be demolished). There are water-powered prayer-wheels (for those too lazy to pray themselves we are told), and prayer flags everywhere. One enterprising person has built his small house on stilts over fast moving water, with a horizontal waterwheel underneath, presumably for electricity.
One of the villages is full of tourist shops, and we stop and talk to an elderly woman in traditional dress, carrying her granddaughter. She refuses to be photographed, but the setting could be something out of National Geographic.
At the end of the day, having had our fill of rushing water, we take the bus back down. The driver is keen to practice his English (we are the only Europeans on the bus) and announces in English at every bus stop on the way down: “This is called Dragon Lake. Would anyone like to stop here and take a photograph?” It’s not that he expects us to say yes (it is after all the end of the day and everyone is leaving), it’s just that he wants to practice his English. We saw that earlier in the day when we stop to chat with one of the park wardens (strictly speaking: more of a cleaner) and she explains she has a daughter who would like to become a tourist guide, and would we have time to give her an English lesson?
Next stop is Beijing, the capital.
# posted by DavidF @ 14:40 
