There are very few paradises on earth. When I say paradise, I think of Valhalla. I think of snow capped mountains covered on all sides by verdant forests. I think of clear likes, and fresh mountain air, and rivers that draw all kinds of life to the valley below. I think of Yosemite, or of the Swiss Alps, or of Austria. Now, I can add Jiuzhaigou to the list.

Jiuzhaigou (I'll just call it JZH to make it easier) isn't the easiest place to get to. In fact it's probably better this way. There are already too many tourists that make the experience at times a bit of a headache. The airport is also very far removed from the town--you have to take a shuttle bus that takes a good 1.5 hours before you get to the small village of Peng Feng. It's a fairly nice drive: winding mountain roads that go up and down the cloud level, before descending into the valley where horses graze and switchbacks give you heavenly views. It gets somewhat ruined by the reckless driving that occurs on those thin strips of road. Just like any Chinese city, horns are used very liberally, tailgating is so dangerously common, and the drivers are brazen enough to overtake just before bends. The closer to town you go, the tranquil roads soon give way to tour coaches and luxury cars that try to outdo each other with their obnoxiousness.

Like any hot tourist spot that's remotely located, the entire economy of the town of Jiuzhai just revolves around tourism. Despite being located well away from Tibet, it seems like a strong Tibetan culture thrives here. There are a lot of people from Tibetan descent that run the hospitality services, and our own hostel served lots of Tibetan food on their menu. I still don't get what they're doing so far away from their region though.

Nevertheless, their presence converts the ambience of the place from somewhere reminiscent of the Swiss alps, to something more of a Nepalese mountain town. Buddhist prayer flags are strung everywhere, and monks garbed in crimson and gold roam the streets swirling their objects and fondling their bracelets. Up on the mountains, temples would also be dotted around the slopes.

The beauty of the National Park itself is only reduced by the crowds. I'll let the photos do the talking for the park, but pictures can't describe the hordes of tourists who cut the lines, push you around as you try to get on (or get off) the bus, who intentionally leave their litter in the wilderness, and whose sheer volume make it difficult to walk on the paths as they block the way. It's a good thing that despite China's reputation as a polluter, conservation and eco-friendly practices were heavily applied at the park. The standard was very high, and a lot of effort was made by the park authorities to pick up after the litterers. And if you tried hard enough, planned well enough, and have a bit of luck on your side, then you could get away with having a more serene experience.

We also visited Huanglong, which was another three hour drive (one way!) to this high mountain (around 3500 m) where snow was still present despite the summer heat. Here, there were some intense opalescent pools and I had some trouble breathing. My head actually started to hurt on the hike up. I'd like to think it was because of the altitude but it was probably because I'm a weak-ass bitch who just wants to eat rice and dumplings all day, then go to sleep.




The high calcium content from the limestone mountains above made the colours so vivid, it was hard to believe it was real. And the way the deposits formed little pools made the bumpy three hour trip very much worth it. There were also fewer people too (although still a lot of disgusting behaviour around nature). Ah well, I suppose this is the price to pay to be in paradise.