Ancient legends say the area containing the Mingsha or Singing Sand Dunes just south of Dunhuang used to be flat. One day a fierce battle raged there and an army was annihilated, leaving the ground littered with bodies. A Goddess scattered incense ashes over them and from the ground rose up a giant sand mountain to bury the warriors, while the tears of the dead soldiers’ loved ones pooled to form Crescent Lake. Even now, it is said, when the wind comes from a certain direction, military drums rumble, the dunes echo the sounds of battle, the sand blows out sad laments for the fallen and mournful vapors of ghosts, drift. But this day, there was no wind, no battle cries, just sunlight and temperatures in the high 50’s and Xuxiangdong (whose name I shortened to Xu) beckoning me to follow. He led me to the camel ranch and pulled out money to pay for both of us, but I stopped him and paid my own way. I have found this is typical of Chinese generosity. If you are invited, the inviter expects to pay for everything. I guess he thought he had invited me by saying, “follow me, follow me,” and that became the tagline of the day, uttered in an amusing way as one would usher along a clueless child, along with repeating, “good friend, good friend.” I suddenly realized this was the extent of his English. No matter, we were on the same wavelength, everything was making us laugh, everything was blowing us away and we communicated our wonder with double thumbs up, shrieks and whoops of surprise and delight. We were joined by another Chinese tourist straggler and lined up for the camels. To mount a camel, the handler makes a sound and the camel bows, kneeling first on the front forelegs and then squatting on the rear haunches, allowing the rider to mount a rude saddle nestled between the two humps. Once your feet are in the stirrups, the handler issues another unpronounceable command, the camel rises up, and suddenly you are on top of the world. The handler walks in front and the camels follow, joined by rope to bits that appear to run through their nostrils. They didn’t appear to be in any pain and actually seemed to be smiling. What does a camel smile at? Mine was a lovely beast, though a little feisty and had to be given two commands every time, though his counterparts seemed to need only one. This of course made me like him/her (there was no way I could tell) all the more, and we set out, grinning like idiots, out into the singing sand dunes. The ride was surprisingly comfortable. We rose up and up, the handler stopping every now and then to allow us to take photos. The dunes, wind rippled, reflecting edges like curling waves, running away into nowhere, the original shape-shifters, tawny brown fine sand crystals heaping in magnificent monuments to the wind and shadow and mutations of light. We climbed into a valley and demounted. There was a rough wooden stairway you could pay a couple of bucks to climb. Or, for a little more you could ride a bamboo sled down the dunes or an inner tube or even shoot a bow and arrow at targets. It was a little touristy, but I plunked down enough to climb the stairs, and before I knew it, Xu had thrust a bunch of money at the ticket taker and was waving me along, saying “follow me, follow me, good friend, good friend.” We climbed the stairs, which were a lot easier than climbing the dunes, up and up and into the sky. The desert rolled away in every direction and on the ridgeline, the stairs ended, and footprints beckoned toward the summit. It was so quiet I stood there, stunned. Below is the photo I took. Even though I pride myself on my descriptive abilities, there is no way to depict what it felt like to be up there. It was like the Sahara. Or like being on Mars. The sand so fine, so soft, everywhere at once. I was like a child in a colossal sandbox, or a sand castle, conjuring up horizons sweeping toward the nothing that is everything, beach dreams with water blue sky, wisps of sailing cloud ghosts, eternities of shadow, the sun drawing everything in and repelling it back outwards. The rest of my time there was a sensory windstorm. Riding back down the dune on the bamboo sled that Xu had paid for. Descending on the camel. Longer camel trains heading up. Shadows lengthening. Yellow camel teeth. The ruins of Medicine King Cave. The day-glow, knee-high, rented sandsocks. Thatched-roofed shaded benches. The miracle of Crescent Lake appearing, surrounded by quicksand. Then watching the dark shadow people climbing up the dunes. It was too easy a metaphor for life, but there it was. Struggling to climb ever upward in slow motion through thick sand, dark forms, faceless, in long, endless lines, skylined on the ridges, carbon star children marching off into whatever comes next, and disappearing into memory. The day was so playful, so soulful, so incandescent, at one point I stretched out my arms, let myself fall backwards against the dune and stared up at the sky. I swear, I saw . . . eternity. Later, Xu gave me his card and we figured out through miming that he was an elevator salesman. We rode back in a cab that he paid for before I could stop him and we parted in town, promising to keep in touch. I half expected him to say, “follow me, follow me,” because I was so used to him saying it, and I laughed at that, then waved and watched as he walked off into the night. Dunhuang: The Friendliest City Part 3
2 Comments
Andy Monaco
11/22/2013 11:24:34 pm
Beautiful; thanks for taking me along...
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Mary
11/27/2013 01:20:12 am
What a fantastic journey! The sand dunes form some of the most dynamic & spectacular land forms on the planet ..the swift transportation of sand is incredible and you and all of us got to see and enjoy them...thank you so much. Sure looks like eternity to me--ee. The camels are certainly unique and amazing animals what a great adventure to ride one. I like XU say hi to him hope he reads your post. Looking forward to Part 3
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