Chapter 21 18. Where is Shangri-La?

Yak Grassland Glacier Andre: We are in Shangri-La. In fact, it was already two o'clock in the morning, and I couldn't fall asleep anyway, so I just got up and wrote you a letter.I can't sleep, not because the moonlight outside the window is too bright, and the light shines in, whitening half of the floor; nor is it because there is a rooster in a deserted village, which crows silently at this time; Min family drank too much butter tea.I can’t fall asleep because the oxygen is thin at the altitude of 3,500 meters. When you lie down, in the quiet night, you can only hear a huge thumping sound coming from your body, as if someone implanted a thumping sound in your body. Drumming, as if your body has been taken over by some alien force.

When I told Philip that we went to Shangri-La, he was very surprised: "Shangri-La? Isn't that the hotel chain?" No, I said, the restaurant stole a place name on the southwestern plateau of China. Shangri-La is Tibetan, and it is said that it means "heart day and month", or "holy place".Southwest China is a place where long-haired yaks graze, a place where wild flowers cover the entire grassland like a carpet, and a place where glaciers sleep and never wake up.Afraid that he would not want to go, I described to him the Shangri-La I imagined in my heart. Shangri-La is actually a small town. The town was originally called Zhongdian, and "Dian" means grassland.The Zhongdian government officially changed the name of the town to Shangri-La. It is not difficult to guess the intention. It probably wants to use this name familiar to Westerners to attract tourists.But, imagine: some day a city decides to change its name to "Utopia", so we will hear the announcement at the airport: "Passengers who take KA666 to Utopia, please go to gate 3 to board the plane"; is it any wonder?

In Tibetan Buddhism, there is a legend about the ancient country of "Shambhala". People live a harmonious, just and happy life in the pure nature. Like the "Peach Blossom Spring" spread by the Han people, it is a myth of an ideal Utopia, which makes people yearn for it. , but it is impossible to achieve.British writer Hilton wrote "Lost Horizon" in 1933, and took "Looking for Shangri-La" as the theme of the novel, which became a bestseller, made into a movie, and made into a musical. "Shangri-La" became the name of a multinational hotel chain , is the standard cultural "industrialization" process.The crystal clear mountains and lakes, the simple and lovely Tibetan folk customs, and the quiet and profound spiritual world have all become concrete commodities that can be sold.I was going to say that Zhongdian changed his name to Shangri-La, which is kind of like... Peacock saying he is Qilin.Why bother?Living in people's imagination, the unicorn always glows with a strange brilliance that cannot be written or expressed in words; as soon as it falls into reality, the imagination is immediately solidified, shrunk and dies.However, Andre, Shangri-La has become the name of a five-star hotel, should I care about Zhongdian joining the global team of "cultural industrialization" that burns pianos and cooks cranes?

get lost I still call this town Zhongdian.When I arrived in Zhongdian, I couldn't wait to see the grassland, "the sky is blue, the wild is vast, the wind blows the grass and the cattle and sheep are low", the endless grassland.I also imagine that there are inexplicable wild horses on the grassland as big as the sky. (This poem, when translated into English, completely loses its realm——No way, Andre.) An enthusiastic friend took us to see the grassland, and I got into his jeep with such a vision.Unexpectedly, it arrived in 5 minutes.The prairie seems to be ahead, but what is that ugly house in front?And there are people queuing up to buy tickets.

It turned out that the government handed over the grassland to private individuals for "tourism", and the private people built a few small houses and a fence around the entrance of the grassland for a fee. The prairie as big as my sky is actually enclosed within that fence. I hit a suddenly raised wall like an athlete sprinting forward at top speed.Ah, my "Border Grass Endless Sunset"... I have seen temples where believers pray and incense is flourishing are surrounded by fences and tickets are charged.I have also seen palaces and palaces being locked up and opened only after collecting tickets; I have also seen ancient villages being enclosed -- together with the people inside, charging tickets.However, the grasslands as big as the sky, the lakes as old as the earth, the wild flowers as long as the sun, the moon and the stars, and the boundless valleys where the grass grows profusely, are also surrounded, and tickets are charged-ah, it’s really more than I can afford. The limit of endurance!

But what can I do? go another ten kilometers The owner still wanted us to see the beautiful prairie, and the jeep traveled 20 kilometers in the wild mountains.The hillsides beside the road are full of dwarf pines. "Once upon a time," he said, "it was all primeval forest here, with tall and big trees, and a deep and deep place. Then it was all cut down." After it rained, the dirt road was cut into deep ditches, and jeeps couldn't get through it, and the prairie was on the other side of the mountain.We turn to the lake.You have to pay to get in. Andre, we are near the latitude of the Tropic of Cancer, but the lake in front of us is exactly like a lake in the Alps: a dark green pine forest surrounds a pool of light green and transparent water, and the aquatic plants are rippling in the breeze, as if it has been here for 100 million years I haven't even touched a small deer, and the shadows of trees and mountains are reflected like the beginning of the flood.People say that when the wild rhododendrons bloom, the mountains are bright red, and the reflection in the water is like red ink accidentally poured into the lake, and the fish will get lost.

Philip and I walked in the drizzling rain, along the lake and into the mountains.After walking about two kilometers, an old Tibetan woman overtook us. She was carrying a large bamboo basket with some herbs stacked inside.As she brushed us off, she asked, "Where are you going?" "Nowhere, let's go for a walk," I said, "Where are you going, old lady?" "Go to the ranch." She slowed down and tied the bamboo basket on her back tightly. "Grand Prairie?" I was moved again, maybe, we can follow her? "How far do you have to go?" "It's very close." She said with a smile, "Turn a corner on the other side of the mountain, and walk another 10 kilometers, and you will be there."

"10 kilometers?" Philip and I were shocked, "You want to go 10 kilometers?" It was almost dusk, and the old lady was about to go into the deep mountains with a bamboo basket on her back. "Near," she said, "my cows and horses are waiting for me there." We just watched her back, getting smaller and smaller in the valley.Passing a swamp in the middle of the valley, she bent down as if to tie her shoes, then crossed the swamp and disappeared where the mountain road turned and the pine forest was thick. She is a shepherd, measuring nature with her feet is like we measure our own living room with our feet. The mountains and rivers are her gifted home.Tour operators use their enclosures as shops, and tourists are noisy and arrogant—Andre, have you ever thought about why in the third world, "development" is equal to "destruction"?Using the power of the country to develop is tantamount to destroying with the power of the country, and that kind of damage is huge.

This piece of land in Shangri-La is said to have been included in the United Nations cultural heritage protection area.We stopped at the edge of a prairie where wild flowers were growing like crazy, and wanted to take pictures; we were stopped by someone: we can’t take pictures, we must pay first! I wish I could drag that man over and kick him a few times.But—can you blame him? That stupid chicken is crowing again, it's only 3 o'clock.The moon shifted a full space.Maybe, the moonlight also caused the chickens to suffer from insomnia.The hotel is next to the Lama Temple on a hillside.The golden-roofed temple is surrounded by well-arranged stone houses and monks' residences, which look like mountain dwellings in the Mediterranean Sea from a distance.The walls of the stone house are yellowed due to old disrepair, adding to the beauty of oil paintings.But I went in in the afternoon and walked through the narrow alleys for a while before I saw how dilapidated the houses were.The courtyard wall collapsed, and clumps of weeds grew on the top of the wall.The windows were loose, the doors were broken, and old emaciated dogs came in and out.A young monk who looked to be only 12 years old was carrying water, two buckets of water and a pole on his shoulders; he was barefoot and the ground was muddy.

Just outside the broken wall, we heard a voice coming from the house, a low, muffled sound that seemed to rise from the deepest part of the soul.That's the monk's vespers... In the big temple, a group of tourists who just got off the tourist bus walked past the temple with mottled lights and shadows, and a few monks sat beside the cash box of sesame oil, counting banknotes; the banknotes looked greasy. your mm