Last week we set out to see some of the Buddhist temple sights in Lanzhou.
We had been wanting to visit the famous Steel Bridge – historically the Zhongshan Bridge also called the first bridge over the Yellow River, lies at the foot of Bai Ta Mountain. In the year 1907, the Qing Government began to build this first iron bridge over the upper reaches of the Yellow River. All materials, even the rivets, were transported from Germany to China using ships, trains, carts and any other means possible. The bridge was completed in two years, and named ‘Lanzhou Iron Bridge over the Yellow River’.
As it was around the time of New Year our visit coincided with the bridge being strung with great clusters of red lanterns the entire length and breadth of the bridge, spanning the Yellow River.
On the other side, from the river bank, we could look up and see our destination, high up on the mountainside – the White Pagoda.
It stood up there, appearing as a tower-like structure, whiteish in colour.
We crossed the road and began our ascent.
Although at this time of the year Lanzhou does have visitors – family visitors visiting their families – the old temple terraces of Lanzhou were relatively empty of other people.
We started with the lower temples and stairs. We were struck by the beauty of their structures, and L took a lot of photographs while I wandered beneath their curved roofs and perched on the low benches, and gazed out over the slow river moving along its icy banks.
We moved up the mountain slowly, taking each flight of stairs at a steady pace. The higher we moved, the more temples we encountered. Some were bigger, but they were always arranged as a courtyard, with many doors leading to rooms housing various statues. The statues sit in their dim chambers, glowing in candlelight, surrounded by great arrangements of big artificial flowers in front of mural painted walls.
Mostly there is a large bell close by, which I suppose only the monks can strike with the long tree trunk attached for the purpose.
The air is pungent, filled with the heady aroma of burning incense – some sticks are always alight and burning, stuck in a trough of sand, standing at angles, some a shocking pink, or a striking blue or a vibrant mellow yellow colour.
The statues sit aloof behind their green stable doors, untouchable, with a large padded kneeler in place for followers to kneel on or say their prayers.
And so we progressed upwards. The city spread out beneath us and we could see its high buildings stretching far into the distance.
Eventually, we came to the Pagoda itself, built in the 13th Century it stands alone with all its many Buddhas looking out from their many alcoves, all ringed around, layer upon layer up into the sky.
I like it immensely and L and I wandered around it. It stands so silently and still, and it was there that I felt moved to buy a three pack of pink incense ( it is an honour system, trust that payment will be left) and I lit them from the flame always burning there and planted them together in the sand, and prayed for my loved ones, and then left the rising fragrant smoke to carry those prayers up and up into the air all around.
L and I stopped at a little curio shop and bought cheap jade and other mementos for special people back home.
We took our time descending, passing more folk making their way up through the slowly warming up day.
A few days later we went on another expedition.
This time we visited Five Springs Park which lies in the northwest part of Gaolan Mountain. In the Western Han Dynasty (206 B.C.- 24 A.D.), a famous general, Huo Qubing, was dispatched by the Emperor to go on a punitive expedition to the Hun people, a minority group who lived in the northwestern part of China at that time. Since the troops had travelled from Chang’an (now Xian ), General Huo and his soldiers were exhausted when they arrived at the foot of Gaolan Mountain. They couldn’t find any water nearby, so General Huo forcefully jabbed his horsewhip five times into the ground. Abruptly five springs spurted water into the air. Thereafter the locals called the mountain the Five Springs Mountain.
We took the no 18 bus all the way to where it stops and then turns around to go back the way it came.
We could see some ancient Chinese structures clinging to the cliffs ahead of us.
We made our way to the entrance of the Park, stopping to stroll into a shop selling large statues and filled to the brim with other objects such as drums and huge gongs, one of which was being purchased by a couple of monks when we were there. The shop was filled with the sound of Buddhist chants which were for sale in CD format. We bought a long 21 flag string of prayer flags to take home one day, to hang up in our courtyard, where they can flap and whisper out their Chinese prayers and fade in the sun along our African stoep.
The bottom reaches of the Park contain a zoo, which we avoided, and large basins of brilliantly coloured artificial flowers. The incongruously raucous music from a nearby funfair beat its way to us as we discovered two of the magical springs. Some of the ponds were still frozen over but people were still seen filling bottles from the springs trickling steadily out of the rocks.
We walked on by and began to climb up the mountain, and were passed by a monk, walking, self-contained, his loops of prayer beads passing through his fingers one by one.
There were many stairways leading every which way up the steep hillside. We zigzagged our way up, stopping at the many temples as we went. We came upon a beautiful arched bridge, spanning a frozen waterfall, and we crossed it, me struggling with vertigo as I did so.
The temples near the top were strung with many colourful rows of prayer flags, fluttering in the very bracing breeze.
We found some metallic painted prayer wheels in one temple and ran our fingers over them, sending them spinning. At another rather busy temple there were 4 walls of golden prayer wheels and we followed the red arrows, guiding us along them in the correct direction. They turned slowly and heavily behind us as we passed.
At that temple there were a number of monks, crossing the courtyard very rapidly, heads down and disappearing through doorways hung with heavily embroidered cloths.
A big golden and shiny Buddha sat in his glass box there, grinning fatly, and it was there that Lex caught a monk in his shot as he passed behind the box, and he raised his hand at us and smiled.
From the highest reaches, we looked down over the ancient curved rooftops of the temples, decorated with small bells and metal dragons, and gazed at the new, very rapidly growing city of Lanzhou. It was very peaceful, with a closed up monastery clinging precariously to the dry hillside behind us.
We found the sites of the other Springs, one of which apparently reflects the full moon perfectly in its well of water at a certain time in the summer.
I would like to see that.