xanadu
zhangleanqi - sanggin dalai
"The greatest palace that ever was … The walls were covered with gold and silver and the Hall was so large that it could easily dine 6,000 people …The palace was made of cane supported by 200 silk cords, which could be taken to pieces and transported easily when the Emperor moved …”
and so on. even though marco polo tends to exaggerate in his reports – we’re not even sure if that cabrón ever made it to china – still xanadu, or shang-tu on this map, the palace of kublai khan where polo arrived in may 1275, seems to have made a serious impression on him.
according to the rough guide "virtually nothing of the site remains” – in any case not enough for directions more specific than “northwest of the modern city of duolun”… which means roughly northeast of the modern city of zhangleanqi (yes lanxie)! reasons enough to set out on a little side excursion today.
a new train line outside zhangleanqi
it was all just a little too perfect… no kanjis, but some directions from a shopkeeper, also shepherds pointing in the same direction. and after turning north, in the distance… a palace! a bright white one, with domes, dramatically approaching on the axis of the road. is this what marco polo saw seven centuries ago? would it have been restored since the rough guys passed here? turned into a marco polo amusement park? where are the busloads of chinese tourists?
palace ahead
once I pass through the gate and come to a halt, no time for those questions. soon I'm surrounded by the mongolian republican guard, and surrender immediately – this time my face definitely at least as astounded as the ones around me. there we stand for a while, silently gazing at each other, some of them casting jealous glances at my horse… a borat style crew member breaks the spell, confirming they are shooting a “moving” there.
after wandering around the set for a while, suddenly I remember what had brought me there. again from borat, I (hardly) understand these white domes serve as a “mongolian style” tourist village outside the movie making season. no remains, no greatest palace that ever was...
so I take off, kind of disappointed yet happy with the surprise, waved out by the whole circus. if you ever come across a boring mongolian dynasty movie with the guards missing or turning their heads collectively in the wrong direction…
but another surprise was waiting ahead. while bending north and trying to reconnect to the road, all of a sudden, a metal gate across the road (open), an abandoned ‘museum’, and a shack with remains of archeological activity: some books and drawings, even some clothes and a bed, the wind blowing through. no one around.
and then a little further down…
xanadu.
what I see are two huge rectangular mounds – grassy remains of the walls polo talks about – the outer one enclosing nothing in particular but the inner one, and the inner one enclosing some scattered stones. still no one around, calvino’s città invisibili blowing in the wind.
a great place, the greatest that ever was.
"le musée est a pàris" / the southeast corner of the outer mound
the rest of the day – powered by a xanadu energy boost – “bending north and trying to reconnect to the road” the sequel…
>01
>01 joe ‘midnight cowboy’ buck cruising on the grasslands
>02 hilly territory // here and there a sandy valley
>02
>03 >04
>03 road narrows to a double track, going up a recently reforested valley // some drops of rain along with doubts if there is a connection
>04 track fades and stops before the pass // slopes on all sides // shit // back to creepy zhangleanqi? // notice the tiny stupa on top of the ridge (mongolians share lamaism with the tibetans)
>05
>05 leaving bike behind for a short hike up to the stupa
>06
>06 stunning 360º views and strong winds on top (more sandy scars ahead apparently)
>07 also from on top, an idea on where to take the pass
>08 hoisting and pushing bike and household through rocky bush // inner mongolia hiking biking foliage trips
>07 >08
on the other side, I make a soft landing in a tree plantation and get picked up by two farmers on a motorbike. they look kind of bewildered (just like me wondering how the hell I got into their plantation) but later they ask if I had been praying at the stupa, laughing… I show them the kanjis for sanggin dalai (reconnection point) and they point west / how far? / showing 6 / 6km? / yes 6. it turns out to be 60… (the first in a series of decimal misunderstandings)
a blessing – instead of pulling into another dusty town’s cabbage room, tonight I sleep on a haystack of a beautiful family. father son and daughters are collecting hay and mom is herding back the cows as I pass their farm at sunset. they smile, take me in, yet hardly interrupt their daily lives (without electricity) for the stranger. what a relief. being ‘stuck’ in the middle of nowhere feels surprisingly relaxing and comfortable.
my hosts for tonight
candle light dinner
for dinner mom dishes up a thick and tasty noodle soup (with beef, ginger, and cilantro), mongolian milk tea, and fruit, to which I add a pasta quattro formaggi – not a stunning success, but recipe for intercultural fun, as I make them eat it the same way they relentlessly refill my cup. later, the girls take out an english textbook, with a small dictionary in the back, from english to chinese. so they have to run through the whole list for every english word they want to ask me, by pointing. but it works. under the light of one candle, we exchange words about their farm, my trip, the price of my camera, dairy products, a dollar bill. dad silently flips through all the pictures on my camera – he’s never been to beijing – and mom gets openly embarrased he's taking so long. in the end, they point at the heartbreaking combination of "back” and “again” and a question mark… imagine...
family portrait at dawn
"The greatest palace that ever was … The walls were covered with gold and silver and the Hall was so large that it could easily dine 6,000 people …The palace was made of cane supported by 200 silk cords, which could be taken to pieces and transported easily when the Emperor moved …”
and so on. even though marco polo tends to exaggerate in his reports – we’re not even sure if that cabrón ever made it to china – still xanadu, or shang-tu on this map, the palace of kublai khan where polo arrived in may 1275, seems to have made a serious impression on him.
according to the rough guide "virtually nothing of the site remains” – in any case not enough for directions more specific than “northwest of the modern city of duolun”… which means roughly northeast of the modern city of zhangleanqi (yes lanxie)! reasons enough to set out on a little side excursion today.
a new train line outside zhangleanqi
it was all just a little too perfect… no kanjis, but some directions from a shopkeeper, also shepherds pointing in the same direction. and after turning north, in the distance… a palace! a bright white one, with domes, dramatically approaching on the axis of the road. is this what marco polo saw seven centuries ago? would it have been restored since the rough guys passed here? turned into a marco polo amusement park? where are the busloads of chinese tourists?
palace ahead
once I pass through the gate and come to a halt, no time for those questions. soon I'm surrounded by the mongolian republican guard, and surrender immediately – this time my face definitely at least as astounded as the ones around me. there we stand for a while, silently gazing at each other, some of them casting jealous glances at my horse… a borat style crew member breaks the spell, confirming they are shooting a “moving” there.
after wandering around the set for a while, suddenly I remember what had brought me there. again from borat, I (hardly) understand these white domes serve as a “mongolian style” tourist village outside the movie making season. no remains, no greatest palace that ever was...
so I take off, kind of disappointed yet happy with the surprise, waved out by the whole circus. if you ever come across a boring mongolian dynasty movie with the guards missing or turning their heads collectively in the wrong direction…
but another surprise was waiting ahead. while bending north and trying to reconnect to the road, all of a sudden, a metal gate across the road (open), an abandoned ‘museum’, and a shack with remains of archeological activity: some books and drawings, even some clothes and a bed, the wind blowing through. no one around.
and then a little further down…
xanadu.
what I see are two huge rectangular mounds – grassy remains of the walls polo talks about – the outer one enclosing nothing in particular but the inner one, and the inner one enclosing some scattered stones. still no one around, calvino’s città invisibili blowing in the wind.
a great place, the greatest that ever was.
"le musée est a pàris" / the southeast corner of the outer mound
the rest of the day – powered by a xanadu energy boost – “bending north and trying to reconnect to the road” the sequel…
>01
>01 joe ‘midnight cowboy’ buck cruising on the grasslands
>02 hilly territory // here and there a sandy valley
>02
>03 >04
>03 road narrows to a double track, going up a recently reforested valley // some drops of rain along with doubts if there is a connection
>04 track fades and stops before the pass // slopes on all sides // shit // back to creepy zhangleanqi? // notice the tiny stupa on top of the ridge (mongolians share lamaism with the tibetans)
>05
>05 leaving bike behind for a short hike up to the stupa
>06
>06 stunning 360º views and strong winds on top (more sandy scars ahead apparently)
>07 also from on top, an idea on where to take the pass
>08 hoisting and pushing bike and household through rocky bush // inner mongolia hiking biking foliage trips
>07 >08
on the other side, I make a soft landing in a tree plantation and get picked up by two farmers on a motorbike. they look kind of bewildered (just like me wondering how the hell I got into their plantation) but later they ask if I had been praying at the stupa, laughing… I show them the kanjis for sanggin dalai (reconnection point) and they point west / how far? / showing 6 / 6km? / yes 6. it turns out to be 60… (the first in a series of decimal misunderstandings)
a blessing – instead of pulling into another dusty town’s cabbage room, tonight I sleep on a haystack of a beautiful family. father son and daughters are collecting hay and mom is herding back the cows as I pass their farm at sunset. they smile, take me in, yet hardly interrupt their daily lives (without electricity) for the stranger. what a relief. being ‘stuck’ in the middle of nowhere feels surprisingly relaxing and comfortable.
my hosts for tonight
candle light dinner
for dinner mom dishes up a thick and tasty noodle soup (with beef, ginger, and cilantro), mongolian milk tea, and fruit, to which I add a pasta quattro formaggi – not a stunning success, but recipe for intercultural fun, as I make them eat it the same way they relentlessly refill my cup. later, the girls take out an english textbook, with a small dictionary in the back, from english to chinese. so they have to run through the whole list for every english word they want to ask me, by pointing. but it works. under the light of one candle, we exchange words about their farm, my trip, the price of my camera, dairy products, a dollar bill. dad silently flips through all the pictures on my camera – he’s never been to beijing – and mom gets openly embarrased he's taking so long. in the end, they point at the heartbreaking combination of "back” and “again” and a question mark… imagine...
family portrait at dawn
posted by Jan at 10:10
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