03. Nyingchi Ganoderma | Tibet Travel Notes

Six fifty-four in the morning. After the alarm clock rang at six o'clock, I lay paralyzed on the bed for a while.

Then I washed up and changed clothes. Because my sister was still sleeping and didn't want to turn on the light in the room, I ate an apple and read a book for a while in the only bright bathroom. Then he stood at the door and read for a while.

At ten minutes past seven, I opened the window on the right. Ganoderma lucidum The slightly cooler air in the morning is mixed with a hint of brewing warmth. I am a little stuffy, but as Ganoderma lucidum in Tibet's "Little Jiangnan", the air is also sweet. Opposite is a five-story unused building. The lower three floors are painted with yellow and white paint, the exterior of the upper two floors is paved with wooden strips, and the top is an inverted triangular spire. If the top three floors were cut off, some of the large houses I passed by when I was in school in New Jersey could almost be twins, except for the prison-style fences and anti-theft nets outside the windows. Cars pass by from time to time, rumbling on the road. The tablet oozes a welcome coolness.

Eight fifty-three. On a winding mountain road surrounded by forest. This scene fits my definition of an ideal place - mountains made up of vertically distributed coniferous forests. The sun shines on the side of a small patch of dense forest from time to time, as if Apollo personally chose this bright and green place to cruise at that moment. The herder drove the yaks trotting briskly along the side of the asphalt road. There are mottled brick-red stones on the dense and moist grass. Close to the road are scattered dwarf trees, which become taller and taller from bottom to top. Under the sunlight, they look like a dense sea of ​​yellow-green leaves. From time to time, you will be pleasantly surprised to see several gurgling streams and mirror-clear lakes, with off-white, vigorous horses leisurely taking sips of water. The sun shines directly through the thick gray-white clouds, and the disk-like white moon seems to be visible next to the dazzling white halo.

The accumulation of clouds follows a certain pattern, right? Just like a normal human body, no matter how it is twisted, there is always a natural coordination and unpretentious beauty.

Get off the car and walk around Sejila Mountain. The temperature was lower than expected, and it felt like I was in a solid, transparent mist. The mountains are intertwined with colorful prayer flags. With limited flexibility, I bent my knees and stepped tremblingly on the rugged rocks on the brownish-yellow soil.

When did it start? The desire for dreamy things. I only vaguely remember searching for various "dream" desktop backgrounds on the computer when I was in the fifth or sixth grade of elementary school. Most of them were either cyan blue ocean bubbles or deep violet sparkling starry skies. When I was in junior high school, I was obsessed with wallpapers of natural landscapes, green coniferous forests, and creeks flowing slowly through stones. I looked through the first novel I wrote when I was fifteen, and the words describing the scenery in it are the same as they are now four years later. I must have been drawing creative nourishment from the same altar since then. Whether it is a still picture or a slightly trembling and breathing live scene, for me, it is just to express the breath of the spirit through higher and elusive creation.

"On the mountain path, the sun is fading, and the full sun hits the brown-purple tree trunks. The leaves turn purple, reflecting the small stone road like leopard patterns and snake scales; the loose soil escapes from the feet of the grass in the wind, and the red The brown color is more orange, like the cocoa powder sprinkled on the roadside; a few pieces of tender green reflecting the golden sunshine are so delicate among the large red browns; the stone road paved with dense purple air is so cool, in Green and I The soles of the leaping feet sing with joy.”

"At night, the three of us sat by the lake, staring at the winding black mountains in the distance like the steel backbone of animals, with several layers of clouds covering them: the orange-red dye that had just spread in the water was concentrated little by little, and... The edges of the small strips of orange were wrapped in a layer of golden yellow, extending the golden light of the Holy Spirit toward the mountain, but it was pierced by several layers of dark gray and purple dense black, and the golden light poured out from the cracks in the dense black. The reflection is blurry, gold turns to orange, orange turns to red, and it seems to be more intense; there is a small branch stuck in the water, but it also has its own small reflection. "

At 10:58, we walked around the observation deck of Lulanglinhai. It's so open, and walking up the stairs is a bit breathless.

There is the sea in front, the forest behind, and the sea of ​​clouds in the sky - this is how my manor will feel from now on.

I also want a carnival amusement park by the sea, like the one in Ocean City. Ferris wheel, popcorn, freshly baked hot dogs and butterfly twist cookies, cotton candy, ice-cold carbonated drinks and hot cocoa, the night rides will have flashing bright orange neon lights. There are candy shops and ice cream shops on the streets, selling souvenir products with the name of the coast, and less cookie-cutter handicrafts with a maritime flavor. There are cyclists and families and friends walking along the seaside plank road. There is a big wooden sign saying "Be careful of seagulls attacking your food".

At 11:55, we got off the car and walked around a small viewing platform with a pretty good view. There are eight or nine vendors on the street, all of whom are quite old Tibetan grandmothers (perhaps because their droopy brown cheeks make them look older). They all sell the same things - matsutake, asparagus, apples, green apples, oil. Peach, yellow tomato, beef jerky. I don’t know how everyone lives. It's not easy.

In reality, it is obviously unrealistic and difficult to take care of such a large forest, and it seems unnecessary. But maybe my new fairy tale (myth) kingdom will have such majestic, divinely blessed, breathing mountains.

At twelve twenty-five, we stopped for a while next to a small waterfall. There is a blue road sign with the words "Jialuo No. 2" erected next to the highway. The stream flowed happily down the river, creating a lot of white spray. From time to time, I caught a glimpse of the curly, bluish-white water flowing in. I couldn't help but feel a little happy, as if Bob Ruth's spray color tutorial was to be in the blue. Mix some yellow between the color and white, giving the green and transparent feeling of the waves being illuminated by the light.

Three thirty-three. In the small town of Milin in Lingzhi, the first hotel we arrived was still under renovation, so we had to change hotels when we got back to the car. It started to rain, and the sky was filled with thick white clouds and mist. I'm quite looking forward to the storm.

Well, just rain, no storm. The new hotel is located in a small street, surrounded by shops full of life such as general merchandise, pharmacies, electrical appliances, and home appliances. After reading Hölderlin's part (Zweig's "The Man Who Fights with Demons"), my general impression can be summarized in a few words: passion & poetry. The existence of Holderlin is probably one of the purest (perhaps a bit confused) Hermes in artistic creation itself.

We walked around the river in the afternoon, and the fast-flowing river looked dim because of the rain. Because we are near Lingzhi Airport, our companion’s drone cannot fly (it is in the “no-fly zone”). Sister Mao (my roommate Bao Ma) and I walked to the square in the town following the sound of singing and dancing. They said there would be a mass activity such as a cultural singing and dancing party at 8pm. There are big bright red roses blooming on the street, and the color is so bright that it looks like it was applied directly from the palette. I walked through a street that was very ideologically popular, and there were probably institutions such as the National People's Congress Committee, the People's Court, and the Religious Affairs Bureau. The square is located in a small park. A stone sign says that the park cost 12 million yuan to build. There were several vendors selling snacks outside, most of which were barbecued. My sister and I bought something similar to dumplings stuffed with fried potato shreds. The people sang and danced in the center of the stage, rehearsing the evening show.

On the way back to the hotel, I saw a garbage truck with a loudspeaker playing music.

An uncle in the group bought several giant matsutake mushrooms and had dinner at a Sichuan restaurant near the hotel. Everyone in business can really speak. I really didn’t get used to it at first, and even typed a series of words like this on my phone,

"Seven fifty-four in the evening. Dinner at a Sichuan restaurant. The trivial human life is boring. It's not that I hate crowds, but these meaningless consumption of time is really staggering. Just think of it as social practice. , to experience the daily life of ordinary humans. To be honest, I just want to mix protein powder with dragon fruit in the room, and then read Kleist while eating apples or peaches. Now my impression of him is only about traveling and escaping.

Then I retreated into my shell and sat silently in the corner. It's hard enough to experience life with all your heart. "

Although it is more clear that my interests are bodybuilding and powerlifting, when I tell most people, I simply say that I do weightlifting, and then everyone passes it on and simply changes it to "doing sports". ", and then of course I became a "little sister who plays sports".

Okay, that's fine too. I really hope that I can work hard to get a professional bodybuilding card while in college, and compete in powerlifting competitions by the way.

But as the uncles clinked glasses more and more, the conversation turned to something I was more interested in. The uncles talked about the history of their fathers and ancestors, the land reform, the Cultural Revolution, Taiwanese compatriots in the 1980s, the experiences of their fathers and grandfathers, and some customs in the countryside when they were children (such as the thousand-person well used for abandoned babies). and the deplorable cynical state of modern academia.

I really miss it (but I haven’t experienced it, so I think I miss it) Southwest Associated University. Now all that has been handed down is the old school site and Chinese and English textbooks. If there were such rigorous, orthodox, and truly global Chinese universities today, I probably wouldn’t have fled abroad when I was in high school.