The Road Warriors: Shangri-La. Seriously.

It was a great busride. Swirling up the sides of towering mountains that overlooked roads that we had been on only moments before. Upon reaching the highest visible point, like magic, everything leveled off and flatlands spread out before me. No more mountains, just rolling hills and fields. It was this sudden change that came with the new altitude. Also, the Naxi architecture was replaced by this distinctly Tibetan aesthetic. Chortens draped in prayer flags, short, wide, trapezoidal houses, yellow crops. You'd think it was thousands of miles from the landscape we were driving through only minutes earlier.

The sun went down as the bus approached the urban fringes of Shangri-La. Lit expressways deposited the bus into the city and before long, I was alone on the side of the road, trying to get my bearings. None of the street names were on my map, so I figured I must be on the edges of town. "Time to play this game again" I thought. Walked forever.

My map was very poor and there seemed to be no end in sight. I was exhausted as you can imagine. Remember, this was the evening of the day I did my brutal gorge trek. When I surrendered and took a cab, the driver was completely useless and couldn't even recognize the map of the town he made a living navigating. I actually had to point him in the direction I wanted to go and have him drive, figuring things out as we went along. Where the guesthouse was supposed to be, there was only a black space. I moaned in frustration, ditched the baffled driver and tried to find someone else who maybe could help me.

All the street names had changed since the publication of my map, I learned. Kevin's guesthouse was what I wanted, but where was it? It wasn't closed down because Sanjay and Mark had just stayed there only days earlier. I found Kevin's Bar, which was annoying because I did not need any false finish lines in my tired, breathless state. Some locals spotted my frustration and pointed me down a dark alley. I was apprehensive. Did they even know what I was looking for? Were they going to rob me? I peered into the darkness and caught a faint sign: Kevin's Guesthouse. Holy effing crap what a godawful place for a sign. Could they not have stuck a sandwich board or something somewhere even close to the main road? I thanked the strangers with the last drop of my politeness I could squeeze out of myself at that moment and walked towards Kevin's.

I was wheezing when I got in at around 10:30-ish. The owners were so unbelievably friendly, my mood instantly recovered. I got a dorm bed, puddled around on the computer for a bit then got some sleep.

Now about the town of Shangri-La. When you hear the name, you ask "really?", and the only answer I can give is "maybe". The words "Shangri-La" first appeared in the novel Lost Horizon by James Hilton, as the name of a fictional south-western Chinese town poised high up in the mountains. Well, the Chinese tourism authorities took notice of this and renamed the town originally known as Zhongdian. A heavy facelift followed, then an airport and inevitably, throngs of tourists. The star attraction, a dazzling Tibetan old quarter, ripe with chortens, monasteries and culture, all accessible without the hassle of having to get the permits to actually enter Tibet. You see, Shangri-La lies right on the border, still technically in Yunnan province. For many, it is the only taste of Tibet they can have. So really, the name is only part of the attraction.

I awoke at a responsible time. It was very cold. At an altitude of about 3100 meters above sea level, the town is perpetually chilly. My wardrobe of shorts and t-shirts was not going to cut it, so my first order of business was buying a sweater. I explored the old town next. Much much more different than Lijiang. Everything screamed Tibet. Prayer flags draped overhead, yak skins sold in shops, old men and women in nomadic attire. The sky was mottled with clouds, but the parts that poked through were a striking blue.

I came across a temple atop a hill in the center of town. The stairs were a rough climb due to the altitude, but up top it was a pleasant view. Many other Chinese tourists walked about. It's highlight was a massive revolving chorten that took the strength of about seven or eight men to get started. When it got going, it was a sight to behold. 20 meters tall, all gold and strikingly ornate. Everyone had a good time with it.

Back in old town, I grabbed some barbecue in the town square. Skewers of meat, vegetables and miscellanea, all cooked and seasoned over a specialized charcoal grill. Cheap and damn tasty. I tried yak meat for the first time. A little tough, but not bad overall.

There was a monastery on a hill that was visible from every part of town, so naturally I made my first order of business finding a way up there. My first attempt led me down some narrow alleyways in the wrong direction. Chained dogs were throwing fits, lunging at me with futility. Around one corner, a dog darted out of a dilapidated shack towards me bearing teeth, it's chain stopping it only a few feet short. I almost had a heart attack. I decided to try another route after that.

Eventually I made it up and took in the view. I could see the surrounding mountains looming over the town. On the other side of the hill, flatlands with the faint and distant shapes of horsemen galloping across. Yellow fields. Prayer flags flapped audibly in the breeze. Beside a pavilion, someone had fashioned a bunch of them into a colourful tent. I took a rest inside. The monastery itself looked more like someone's house, and I didn't feel like barging in (it was dinnertime after all), so I headed back down the hill.

That evening, I went to a soccer bar to watch the World Cup and eat. Aside from trying cold yak meat and yak yogurt, nothing happened.

Now originally, I had a pretty ambitious plan for getting to Chengdu, my next destination. A three to four day journey through rugged mountains. Xiangcheng, Litang, Kangding then Chengdu. I didn't want to backtrack, but my guesthouse mum informed me of a sleeper bus to Jinjiang in southern Sichuan province, where I could then grab a train north to Chengdu, all in half the time for half the cost. Sold. I got a ticket for 7pm the next day.

I didn't do much until then. Read and wrote. There was a big monastery north of town, but the admission price was around $20, so I stopped short at the gates figuring I'd see much bigger and better monasteries when I actually got into Tibet. The weather was crap too.

When I boarded the bus, I made myself very comfortable. I had no idea how long the trip would be, but I knew I wouldn't hit Jinjiang until the morning. The sleeper bus was only the beginning too. My only concern was whether or not I would get any sleep, and I wish I could say it didn't take long for that to happen.

If you were wondering what the hell a chorten was this whole time, it's this.

This is the old town. I have a similar pic taken in Lijiang and I chock that up to the fact that there are so many old men on bicycles in China, it's like one big deja vu after another.