Gaga

Vultures feasting on the remains of a yak.













In the previous entry I promised to be brief, and I intend to stick to that promise. I also promised an impression of the thanka that Wang and his colleagues are working on. Here it is. The man in front is the teacher. He works at the upper left-hand corner of the painting, and needs a chair and a stool to reach the right height. The men hold a tea cup with gold paint in one hand, and a tiny brush in the other. The work is a 'black thanka', and with the gold paint it creates a beautiful effect.
Almost as beautiful was the 'mo mo' that the teacher's wife baked.



When I left Tongren I was caught by a rain storm on a winding road through a narrow valley. I asked the forest ward if I could stay the night in his outpost, which he agreed to. Really nice guy, who made me feel at home. Good food was prepared by the lady that I photographed in her 'television position'. It's these poses, when the object of the picture is at rest, that I like best.



In the mountainous areas that I've crossed the last couple of months there's a lot of wildlife. One could think of illustrious animals like the ibex, the snow leopard, and Marco Polo sheep. What I saw was marmots, sparrows and hares.

The other day however I was treated to a vulture fest. The people of a valley had left the remains of a yak for the birds to finish. About 25 of them came down and with ferocious hunger they started to devour the stomach and everything that was left of the carcass after the people were done with it. Well, they tried. There were two small boys that made a game out of chasing the birds away. They threw stones and sticks and one of them even managed to get his hands on one of the hoofs that he then threw back at the birds. Sometimes the two of them charged at the birds, which caused a lot of dismay among the flock. But the birds didn't do anything. The lateral span of a vulture is maybe 2 metres, and they were in large numbers, but they wouldn't think of attacking the boys.

For a moment I imagined what the scene would have looked liked, hadn't it been the yak's carcass but Lady Gaga in her 'meat dress'. Now that would have been a statement.



After a tiresome ride I reached Zekog. Not much of a town, but with the clouds and its high altitude, it made an impression nevertheless.



On my way to Dawu where I am at the moment, I was invited by a family for yak tea. With it comes something strange, what appears to me as dough that still needs to be baked. You get a cup of yak tea, they add yak butter and then a handful of flour. And then you're supposed to mash it all into a dough ball using your hand, et voilà, lunch is served.

The pictures are of the son and daughter of the family.



I met a motorcycle monk, looking like he belonged to the yellow hat sect that is typical for Sichuan, the province I am heading for. Contrary to other parts of China I've seen, many motorcyclists do wear helmets here. Riding a motorcycle seems a good idea with all the climbs that road users face.

The road sign is of the pass that I did yesterday evening in order to make it into town. The sun had set, and after this point I could cruise 11 kilometres downhill.



Where Dawu appeared as a ghost town. The first one and a half kilometre you see nothing but empty buildings. A dark sky full of ominous clouds. An atmosphere heavy with expectation (I was hoping to find a shower), but without too much to offer.

I settled in a cheap lodge run by Tibetans. After the photo shoot - they all wanted to have their picture taken with the white man the wind had blown in - I went down for some food. It must have been saturated with monosodium glutamate, an additive that enhances taste but erases your sleep, cause I couldn't sleep last night. This was also because of the Chinese three doors down who had fallen asleep with his television set on maximum volume. It's a typical thing, none of the other guests seemed to mind, even though the noise cut throught the cardboard walls, like a knife through butter. At 3 am I couldn't stand it anymore and walked over. After a few knocks he woke up, opened the door and acted as if I was the one causing disturbance.



A final impression: the flight of a vulture.