My Life in China

5 Days in Chengdu: Day 3; March 7, 2005

One thing I really can’t stand is waking up early. Funny then that I’ve been doing it every day for the past few days. It’s 7:30am, and Phil tells me to wake up and get ready…again. I mumble ok, and then stand up. Phil says he will go rent some big parkas for us for when we go outside. I tell him ok, you do that while I take a shower. I wait for him to leave, then promptly go back to sleep. What seems like five seconds later Phil comes back. “Did you take a shower?” He asks. I make some kind of sound. Then he says I can take one when I get back. So I get dressed, fumble my bright orange parka on, and go outside.

We’re not the only ones out on this cold, cold morning. Some other hotel guests, actually people I recognize from yesterday’s ride, are here as well. We’re all pointed in the same direction, like meerkats on the lookout. But it’s not clear enough this morning to see the sun, only a dull light will greet us today. There is however a little hint that the sun is there in the form of a swath of pink streaking across the blue-gray sky.

Undaunted, we look towards the Buddhist temple that rests at the very top of this Golden Summit. Part of it we can enter, the other part is currently under rehab. As we climb up the steps, Phil shows me a large pile of locks that are placed along the railing. He tells me you can buy these locks and make a wish, and then put it on these guardrails, and then your wish will come true. Or something like that.

As we get closer to the temple, the sound of chanting monks grows louder and louder. However when we actually arrive there, the sound is revealed to be coming not from actual chanting monks, but from two large speakers. The rest of the temple though, is rather nice. We go to an altar of a large Buddha (I think) surrounded on both sides by small statues, each with a candle. Of course, if it were the middle of the night and I was left all alone there, it would be pretty spooky.

After visiting and paying Phil’s respects, we head back to the hotel and take a two hour nap, then we return the parkas and get ready to leave. By the time we make it back outside, the sky has cleared considerably. We take the time to get some good pictures of the view from the top, looking down at where our bus station is, looking out at the mountains. Phil points out one of the mountains in the distance. “That’s Tibet.” He tells me. It’s so close I could jump right onto it.

We arrive at the lower cable ferry station. As we head for the road, we see a fresh batch of new tourists arrive. They all look excited to “climb” to the Golden Summit. And they should be, for by now the sun has come out, and I think it will be quite spectacular up there. Phil and I should not have hastened our departure. We leave the station area and come to a proverbial fork; in one direction, the ice-covered stairs that comprise the shortcut back to the bus station. In the other direction, the snow-covered road less-traveled. We decide on the latter.

Since vehicles still aren’t using this road, and everyone else takes the stairs, it’s just me and Phil and a rather pristine trail. We (well, I) take the opportunity to deflower the virgin landscape. I ask if Phil has ever made a snow angel. “Sure,” he says, “when I was a kid we would do it all the time and dress them in our clothes.” I tell Phil not ‘snowman,’ ‘snow angel.’ Then I look around for a nice patch of pure white and proceed to show him. However the practical side of me tells me that the blanket of white might be covering some really sharp rocks, so I’m hesitant to ‘fooomp!’ down like they do on TV. Because of this, and the fact that the snow is not actually powder-soft, it takes a few tries to make a snow angel that really looks like, well, an angel.

As we ramble along the wide open road, it occurs to me that I’ve never seen so much snow in my life. We hear the sound of birds chirping, and every now and then a gentle breeze causes the trees to quiver under the weight of their ice padding. It also occurs to me that I could possibly write my name in the snow, just to see what all the fuss is about, but I decide not to. That’s a little to juvenile, even for me.

When we arrive at the bus station the pain in my foot has spread to my lower calf, so that I’m really just hobbling along at an extremely slow rate. Perhaps I’m using the cane wrong. Then again, is there an incorrect way to use a cane? On our way over, Phil told me that we’d stop by a restaurant to get some food, then go over to the bus stop and wait to head back down. But upon our actual arrival, Phil just keeps walking, and walking, and walking…

We walk past the restaurants and the bus stop and the small inns, and I wonder if Phil plans on walking right down the whole mountain. I stop to rest, look up, and see…a monkey! A wild and crazy monkey! It’s just sitting on the roof of a building, looking at nothing in particular, then turns around and disappears into some trees. I quickly hobble over to Phil and tell him that I saw a monkey, just as we turn into another small temple.

But this temple is different, because near the entrance, in some trees, is a small group of more monkeys. “Oh, if you have some food they will come to you!” Phil exclaims. He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a bag of peanuts. The monkeys see this and slowly make their way over. Phil tosses some peanuts on the ground, but the monkeys don’t go for them. So he tosses some peanuts to the closes monkey. It tries to catch them. And so begins a little game of catch with some little monkeys. Incidentally, the learning curve on these monkeys is not very high.

After a while, Phil takes some bread out and we just hold the food out while the monkeys gingerly take it from us. Ah so simple, and yet we didn’t think of that earlier. We then walk to an outcropping and look at the view, which shows a valley down below. As we are marveling at this, I notice another monkey lurking near the temple building. “Oh, they have followed us!” Phil notes. But it turns out this is yet another monkey, much, much bigger (about the size of my backpack), and totally fearless. It sees us and casually saunters over, all the way right next to us. We again pull out the bread and it just takes it from us and eats it. The monkey’s fur looks really soft, but I don’t touch it, because you never know with these wild-but-not-really animals.

I’d like to stay and have some more fun with the monkeys, but it’s time to go. We hitch a ride down to the middle of the mountain, and from there board yet another cable car to another temple. The trip takes about 20 minutes, and it’s a good opportunity to see the countryside. We catch glimpses of people going about their daily lives, women washing clothes, men going to markets with their donkeys, and children playing. At the temple, we find a nice little courtyard and pull out the rest of our snacks. We spend the next hour not really doing anything, just sitting and relaxing, eating peanuts and drinking tea.

As we exit the temple I see a sign that reads “Dear tourist, wild monkeys live in this area, please watch your belongings and take care your loved ones!” It makes me imagine a gang of unruly monkeys who shadow unsuspecting tourists, then grab all their things and run away. A monkey mafia, a swarm of simians, if you will.

And thus ends our trip to Mt. Emei, as we ride a taxi back to our beloved Emei Shan Hotel. From there we collect the rest of our luggage, which has been in storage, and wait for a car which will pick us up and take us to SWUFE, the Southwest University of Finance and Economics.

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