Our Inner Mongolian adventure commenced forth at 5am on Saturday October 1st after one hour of sleep and a considerable amount of tequila. For some reason David and I shunned an early night in favour of more hedonistic pursuits, believing that this would make our early flight more tolerable. We whiled the night away on our balcony, watching the dancing lights of Pu dong and talking about stuff that two inebriated Europeans usually talk about-utter bollocks. Some hilarious miracle got us to the airport on time, plonked us firmly in our seats and boom-sleep (for David at least). I am actually somewhat in awe of David’s ability to sleep on demand in almost every situation-he had on average ten naps a day, completely unperturbed by the dodgy smells and potential fatality of his surroundings. Although the flight to the most Northern reaches of China was only two hours from Shanghai, as with most domestic flights they gave us a delicious meal of unidentifiable meat-in-bun and some overly saturated rice, otherwise known as congee, otherwise known as ‘that disgusting rice-type thing’. Thomas was not happy, I know because he told me, several times over several days. The whole journey was taken up with an incredible desire for ping shui (bottled water) but once we arrived at the airport and located a shop, the only drink option was milk-rows and rows of milk. First Inner Mongolian fact- they dig cows.
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| Me and the boys on Hohohohohhot |
Our first day in Hohhot was spent wandering around beautiful markets lining narrow, winding streets. Traditional Mongolian buildings and run down, yet charming houses were adorned by Chinese lanterns and the familiar five star flag that flew for National day. The pertinence of this was not lost but is better left somewhat ignored. We found ourselves in an auction where we managed to buy two massive paintings for the walls of our apartment, which has now been thoroughly Chineseified and looks great. We also went to a temple which was incredibly colourful with many hidden corners and had a five tiered, layered stone pagoda standing proudly in its courtyard. Outside the temple several old men sat around, playing cards on tiny make-shift tables and drinking liquor from small metal flasks. We quickly became an attraction, being a minority far more here than we ever are in Shanghai. However, unlike the sometimes snooty-tooty, swanky pants air of the Shanghaiese, the Inner Mongolians were polite and simply interested in our strange, exotic selves. Our first impressions of Inner Mongolia: the smiling, inquisitive faces of the local people-a real mix of Chinese and Mongol- and the traditional meets modernistic aspects of two cultures, once colliding, now co-inhabiting. This mix of culture was reflected in the beautiful buildings and loud, bustling shopping centres; in the drive for excess and consumerism on the busiest shopping street I have ever got lost on and the peaceful temples: the vibrant colours reflecting obvious care in their upkeep. We knew straight away that we were in for a fantastic five days and we were not disappointed.
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| The temple in Hohhot |
The next morning we squashed into a van with eleven other travellers and made our long and bumpy journey through the valley and into the Gobi desert. Once in the desert, we exchanged van for treacherous, hot-wired sand jeep and sped like maniacs across the sand dunes. For an adrenaline junky, China’s considerable ignorance in the face of health and safety means exhilaration in the most unlikely of places-this essentially became the tone of our whole trip.
Thomas, David and I had decided that we didn’t quite fancy a camel ride (I once spent five hours on one in Israel and had had my life’s fill of numb bum) and so we separated from the group and made our way into no-man’s land. Actually, if I’m honest, nowhere in this section of desert could be described as no-man’s land. Aside from the fact that it seemed almost impossible to escape the various entourages of moseying camels, there was only one view that wasn’t marred by China’s fantastic ability to completely shun natural beauty. David: That’s got to be the biggest factory I have ever seen.’ Thomas: ‘Shall we take the picture facing the other way? I can see the cable car in full view.’ Me: ‘We shouldn’t walk too far from the group boys, we might get lost in the desert forever’. Boys: ‘Shut up Sophie.’ Regardless of the interesting juxtaposition between miles and miles of pure white sand and streams of grey-white factory pumped pollution, the experience was great fun. We did eventually find ourselves pretty secluded and able to privately attempt, poorly, to throw ourselves off of sand dunes and to sit and watch the sky turn different shades of red and orange as the sun departed from the day.
After the desert and an even more treacherous jeep journey back to the bus, we headed into the mountains…and got lost…several times. After a five hour journey, a few naps and a constantly rumbling stomach we arrived at the Wudang Zhao temple, the biggest Tibetan temple in Inner Mongolia. We got shown to our room, which we shared with three others and was heated by a small electric fan. The Lamasery in which we slept is two hundred and fifty years old and incredibly basic, yet subtly beautiful and obviously much loved and cared for. The toilets were dangerous-housed in a cement open air building and in complete darkness, the two massive holes that dropped several feet into…imagination needed…were potential traps for the unsure footed; It was breezy, to say the least. Dinner that night was microwavable something that was cooked in a pan of water heated on one of the electric fans-it was not delicious but it was resourceful and welcome after being made to wait until almost midnight. The boys and I decided that we would go and explore the temple prematurely, so, taking a torch, we made our way up the winding steps and around the courtyards of the temple. It was impressive, even in the dark, and the sky above shone with a multitude of stars. It’s amazing how happy a starry sky can make a person who has become used to a sky shrouded constantly by smog. It was breathtakingly beautiful and we stood in the courtyard, heads up to the sky like children hoping to see Santa’s sleigh at Christmas. We finally returned to our beds after having a bit of a dog scare and realising that this midnight exploration may result in a loss of face. The Chinese value face, I value mine.
The next morning we were woken by a Chinese woman’s exclamation: ‘Oh, you’re still asleep.’ And were hurried down to the temple where we ate a breakfast of noodles, handmade in front of us, as we sat under a tree watching the Lama monks get ready for their day. This was made more interesting by their use of smart phones and the stylish donning of designer trainers but, as Thomas reminded me, they must advance with the times. In past days the temple was also a school, and the 2,500 room complex was home to 1,200 residential monks. Today the Lamasery houses a mere sixty, all of whom are salaried. The Wudang Zhao temple is beautiful, the surrounding willow trees (from which it gets its name) are covered with the coloured fabrics of the Tibetan monks-Blue symbolising air, white for water, yellow for earth, red for fire and green for harmony, wisdom and natural surroundings. David: ‘Has it been raining strips of fabric?’ No one: ‘Ha-ha.’ The temple itself is built up the mountain and so there are many small, spiralling staircases cut into the stone and various paths to discover. Additionally, the mountains frame the temple on all four sides and the air was actually breathable!! Wonderful! We spent the morning in the temple and then began our 250km journey to the grasslands. On route we stopped to use the toilet (this had to be done my crawling through a hole in a fence and balancing precariously over a 15ft drop) and to buy as much Chinese liquor as we dared-we were told it was going to be very cold on the grasslands that night. We had no idea how cold very cold could be…
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| The markets in Hohot |
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