Mount Emei

We arose early on Saturday morning and headed to Mount Emei, one of four sacred Buddhist mountains in China. Mount Emei is home to China's first Buddhist temple and over seventy monasteries now dot the side of the mountain.

We boarded buses at the base of the mountain and rode for two hours towards the 10,000 foot (3,000 meter) summit. Along the way, we caught glimpses of the mountain but were mostly met with rain and mist.

After the bus ride and a 15 minute hike, we arrived at the cable car which would take us to the top. Sadly, we were greeted by rain and thick fog. At this point, I wasn't exactly sure what kind of view we were going to see.

We disembarked and found that snow was lining the sides of the trails. We stopped for a quick milk tea to warm our hands and continued the short hike to the summit. 

Unfortunately, upon arriving at the top, we found ourselves standing among the clouds that we were supposed to be peering down upon. Not exactly the picturesque view we had hoped for.

At times, the clouds were so thick that we could barely make out the silhouettes of others at the summit.

We wandered around for a bit, visiting the gold and silver temples which sit upon the mountain top. We also saw countless locks fastened to the railings along the summit. Called Lovers Locks, the Chinese engrave their initials and that of their loved one onto the lock. Then they fasten it to the rail and throw the key off the side of the mountain, signifying their eternal love.

And just as we prepared to head back down the mountain, our fortunes (or perhaps just the wind) shifted and the cloud forest began to appear below us.

We started in awe at the view below for a few minutes and watched as the sun melted the snow around us. Heading back down the mountain, we remarked how serene and peaceful the mountain had seemed. That is, until K got bitten by a monkey. Then the rest of our trip consisted of blood, shots, and four letter words.

Sichuan Opera

After viewing the Giant Buddah, we tucked into some local cuisine and spent the remainder of our evening at the Sichuan Opera. If you want to view a traditional opera, this isn't going to be your cup of tea. But if you want to watch shadow puppets, contortionists, acts of incredible strength, and some cheesy dancing, you've come to the right place. 

 

 

 

My favorite part of the night was the changing of the masks, a staple of the Sichuan Opera. Called biàn liǎn (which literally means face changing), the changing of the masks is an ancient Chinese art in which performers wear brightly colored costumes and masks which they change from one face to another almost instantaneously with the swipe of a fan, a movement of the head, or wave of the hand.

The secret for how to accomplish this quick face change is a closely guarded secret among performers which is passed down from one generation to the next within families.

 

Is the show touristy? Absolutely. But I still enjoyed myself and was pleasantly surprised to understand more of the language than I would have expected. I guess all my Chinese lessons are paying off! But don't let the language barrier stop you from seeing this over the top spectacle if you find yourself with a free night in Leshan.

Leshan Giant Buddah

We are incredibly fortunate to have a number of friends visiting us this spring. Just one day after saying goodbye to our friends in Hong Kong, a good friend from our college years arrived in Shanghai.

With a love of spicy food and cuddly animals (we'll get to that in another post), we traveled to the Southwestern province of Sichuan for a few days of exploring.

Our first morning, we drove to Leshan, home to the Leshan Giant Buddah. Carved out of a cliff face that lies at the intersection of three rivers, the Giant Buddha sits 230 feet or 71 meters high.

Construction of the Buddah began in 713, led by a Chinese monk named Haitong. He hoped that the Buddha would calm the turbulent waters that plagued ships traveling down the river.

When funding for the project was threatened, he is said to have gouged out his own eyes to show his piety and sincerity. That's dedication, people. After his death, construction stopped due to insufficient funding. 70 years later, construction was completed by Haitong's disciples.

Apparently the massive construction resulted in so much stone being removed from the cliff face and deposited into the river below that the currents were indeed altered by the statue, making the waters safe for passing ships, just as Haitong had hoped.

Our guide informed me that touching the eyebrow would ensure there was always happiness in my marriage. I'm not overly superstitious but I figured it was worth playing along.

After viewing the Buddah from above, we walked down a set of rather treacherous stairs to the base of the Buddah.

Fellow travelers have told horror stories of waiting hours to see the Giant Buddah. We simply walked up, making March the perfect time of year to view this stone masterpiece.