Langmusi is on the border between Gansu and Sichuan.  The book said it was a nice place with as many monks as Xiahe, plus yaks. We got on the bus.

 

Munching down yak burgers we agreed that we needed to find more information about the monks and their form of Buddhism.  We picked up what we could from bits of information around, but still could only really appreciate the monks in a very immediate way: sometimes they practiced what looked like dance routines/kung fu/oprah winfrey re-enactments outside the front of their temples; they had golden coloured prayer wheels some of which squeaked as they were turned by the flow of the water in the river; there were also lots of carving in the nearby rocky crags and caves. Tibetan prayers had been carved in and then coloured, all we could do was marvel at the pretty colours and beauty of the curvy script.

 

One day we went for a walk up past some caves and carvings, through a gorge and into some stunning countryside. There were huge birds overhead as we climbed up the steep sided valleys.  There was snow in the shade, but we found a dry spot, snoozed and warmed our faces in the December sun.  I flicked through the Lonely Planet and found some long searched for information about local Tibetan Buddhist practices:

 

“Sky Burial: The white cloth is removed from the body while the Tomden (a religious master of ceremonies) sharpens his large knife.  He circles a small buddhist monument, reciting mantras and slicing the body before him on the stone slab.  The flesh is cut into large chunks and the bones and brain are smashed and mixed with barley flour.

The smell of the flesh draws a large number of vultures that circle impatiently above. The Tomden steps away and and the huge birds descend to feed, tearing at the body and carrying it in pieces up to the heavens.”

 

A couple of the big birds swooped about 20ft above our heads, they were huge with wingspans of at least 2 metres. We noticed their elongated necks and white heads.  There were nearly 20 soaring above the surrounding hills their white bellies sometimes catching the low sun.

 

We continued to snooze, but kept one eye open. Sometimes it’s better not to read the books.

 

H