Then the old man died

Greetings from Qinghai.  I arrived here two days ago in a textbook final day in Sichuan: a monastery, two high mountain passes, some rain, and lots of noodles.  The climb up to the Qinghai border wasn't as demanding as I expected (only had to eat half a tray of Oreo cookies as motivation) and it's true what they say about Qinghai, the roads are better.  Much better.  The switch happens immediately: unbroken, smooth pavement, appropriate signage, lane lines, barriers on dangerous curves.  It's strange because I think Sichuan is a relatively rich province, and Qinghai is fairly remote, poorer place. Whatever the reason, that ride down from the border, hitting 62 km/h, was one of the best descents so far.

 

In Xiewu, the crossroads town where I'll be making a big right turn away from Tibet, I ran into a Chilean chap names Sergio who is teaching English at a nearby monastery.  It was nice to have some free food and drinks and of course, rant about teaching with a fellow foreigner. 

 

I'm about 2 days behind where I want to be, and I was planning for a few long days in the next week to get me back on schedule.  So it would seem a little counterintuitive to take two rest days in Xiewu, but that's what happened.

 

A old man died on Xiewu on Sunday, and the funeral is scheduled for 4 days later.  Now in Tibet, they don't creamate or bury bodies, usually they do something called a sky burial.  It's worth reading about, my understanding is that they go up on a hill, cut the body up into pieces, and then let the vultures have their way with it.  It sounds awful and it probably is, but in a place where the ground is too frozen or rocky for a burial, and in a religion that believes in the cyclical bond with nature, it's a very respectable way to go out.

 

The opportunity to witness a sky burial first hand is difficult to resist.  It's an incredibly sacred part of this culture and according to the government, strictly off-limits for foreigners.  The chances of stumbling upon one and getting permission to attend are very low, yet it seems all the cards have lined up for me.  And so I will wait till morning of the forth day.

 

Yesterday we went to Yushu, a jewel of a city in this region.  I hadn't been planning to go because, unfortunately, Yushu was wiped off the map by an earthquake last year.  The city is enormous, or was enormous, and a year after the quake, is still a mess.  There are very few buildings, and most of the rubble is gone.  There's a lot of construction and road work but the most striking sight is the tents.  There are tents everywhere.  Imagine a city the size of Barrie made up only of tents.  I can't imagine having to survive a Tibetan winter in such an home, and a new city still seems ages away.  Life goes on, and there are tents and temporary structures selling everything you would expect to find in a Chinese city: cell phones, sports shoes, monk robes, you name it.  It was a humbling day and my heart goes out to the people of Yushu.

 

Today I slept in and wandered around Xiewu a bit.  Like many Tibetan towns, there's an impressive-looking monastery perched on a hill above town, begging to be explored.  After tomorrow it looks like there will be a few dawn till dusk rides to try to get back on track.  We'll see what wins out: determination to stand accomplished in Jiuyuguan after having biked the entire way, or fatigue confining me to a bus for a little bit of the way.  Look to the sky.