My Promised Land: Xinjiang
Into the Forest
I have discovered a sanctuary away from the clamor of machinery, where the tranquility of silence reigns. No longer does my cellphone disturb the peace with its disruptive chimes. Within this serene haven, I am attuned to the murmurs of the trees, the harmonies of the breeze, and the gentle babbling of water, immersing myself in the pure essence of nature. Here, I am liberated from the complexities of society and the frantic rhythm of urban life. It is in this refuge that I synchronize my endeavors with the rising sun, and find solace as it gracefully descends. It is within this idyllic backdrop that I feel truly alive.
Qiongkushitai Village
The Kalajun Grassland, adorned in tranquil shades of green, stretches indefinitely, while horses roam freely upon it. Who can resist the allure of its resplendent beauty? The scattered lakes, reminiscent of pearls sprinkled across the sky, intricately sketch out this picturesque landscape. Rolling hills, curving gracefully like ocean waves, bestow upon the vast grassland a unique rhythmic charm. At first sight, one cannot help but be rendered speechless, as waves of astonishment sweep through the heart.
Continuing on, I found myself encircled by mountains, merging together to form a magnificent painting. Here, a serene river meanders through the valleys, surrounded by lush, vibrant vegetation. The pastoral abodes of the herdsmen remain hidden, akin to uplifting notes, composing a joyful symphony of life upon the expansive grassland. Sunlight filters through the billowy clouds, painting the valley in a myriad of hues. I witnessed a herdsman gallantly riding a stallion, elegantly traversing the undulating terrain. Their intertwined forms appeared to dance harmoniously with the soft curves, an exquisite complement to nature's grandeur.
As I held onto the armrest, I embarked on a journey along a winding highway that cut through dense spruce forests, ultimately leading me to the quaint village of Qiongkushitai. Translated from Kazakh, "Qiongkushitai" means "valley of many eagles." Within an instant, the setting sun pierced through the clouds, casting a golden glow that adorned the land like a brocade. The delicate interplay of light and shadow revealed a dreamscape, permeating it with an ethereal aura—serene, tender, pure, and sacred.
Cooking smoke gently drifted from the yurts, carrying a delightful aroma that wafted through the air, evoking a sense of pure happiness. It mirrored the joy and warmth felt by the herdsmen as they returned home on their horses. As darkness descended, they skillfully navigated the dense grassland, guiding their cattle and sheep back to their cozy families.
Night fell and darkness blanketed the land, as the starry sky shimmered above. The air was filled with the delightful melodies of songs and laughter, emanating from a cabin adorned with colorful lights. After dinner, I made my way back to the hotel, accompanied by the rushing and crashing sounds of the river against the rocks, creating a captivating symphony. Opening the wooden door, a wave of warmth embraced my face, enticing me to drift off to sleep.
However, to my surprise, a sizable wasp suddenly made its presence known on the bed. Reacting swiftly, I fetched a large towel and a slipper. Standing a meter away from the wasp, I deftly covered it with the towel, swiftly followed by a decisive strike with the slipper. Taking extra precautions, I took a few more deliberate footsteps to ensure my safety. Carefully lifting the towel, I discovered the motionless form of the wasp, confirming its demise. With this reassurance, I enjoyed a peaceful night's sleep until the break of dawn.
As I pulled back the curtains of the cabin, a serene forest came into view. After a quick breakfast, I followed the river upstream to the entrance of the Wusun Ancient Road. The Wusun Ancient Road served as a vital passage, linking the Jungar Basin in the north with the Tarim Oasis in the south, connecting the Tianshan Mountains from north to south. Opting for horseback riding, a kind Kazakh uncle took charge of my horse. With his weathered face, he proudly shared stories of his family and children in Kazakh. He spoke of his deep pride for his son, who was studying in other province, despite the challenges of being far from home.
Along the journey, scattered wooden houses dotted the riverside, adorned with rooftops covered in lush green grass. These homes seemed to blend seamlessly with nature, harmoniously coexisting with the surrounding grass, trees, and landscape.
The melodic sound of bells reached my ears as a team of horses approached, their backs adorned with vibrant luggage. The uncle explained that the trekkers had chosen horses to assist them in their arduous journey to Paradise Lake. Nestled atop a towering mountain, Paradise Lake boasted a vast expanse of sky, its water exhibiting a mesmerizing shade of clear blue. From a distance, it resembled a glistening emerald delicately placed upon a plateau. However, my disappointment grew when I learned that I would need to return to Yining by nightfall, allowing only a brief respite for a short stroll through the forest.
To my surprise, I encountered several bare stumps, deprived of their once lush green foliage, standing lonely and isolated. It was later revealed to me that the Kazakh people adhere to a tradition of abstaining from cutting down trees. These stumps had fallen victim to strong winds but were later collected by villagers who repurposed them for construction, ensuring that the trees served as a valuable resource for the village's development. This environmentally conscious and sustainable approach exemplified the harmonious utilization of nature's gifts.
Sayram Lake
The dark clouds drifted away, making way for the gentle descent of sunlight upon Sayram Lake. The water of the lake seemed to come to life, undergoing a graceful transformation. Its once silver-gray hue gradually faded into a delicate shade of light blue. The surface of the lake showcased an array of colors, as though an artist's brush had sketched a layered boundary, separating the sky from the water. White clouds leisurely floated above the lake, adding an enchanting touch reminiscent of a fairyland. In the distance, a snow-capped peak majestically stood, as if guarding Sayram Lake in its lofty embrace.
The lush green grassland unfurled like an exquisite tapestry before my eyes. Countless flowers bloomed, creating a sea of pink, yellow, and purple hues that danced in harmony. Eagerly, I stepped onto the verdant land and made my way towards the lake. Unable to resist, I reached out and cupped a handful of the lake's cool water, captivated by its refreshing touch. The wind whispered past my ears with a vigor even more pronounced than that of the seashore, bringing a sense of invigorating coolness.
Sayram Lake, also known as the "last tear" of the Atlantic Ocean, possesses a fascinating tale. The warm and humid air originating from the Atlantic Ocean embarks on a long journey but is unable to overcome the northern slope of the Tianshan Mountains. Instead, it meanders and wanders here, accumulating abundant precipitation in the elevated formation of this alpine basin, eventually manifesting as a single droplet: the "last tear."
Through the windshield, I gazed at the dense and towering spruce forest, stretching towards the distant sky in unison with the mountains. Within the forest's shade, a variety of trees, such as birch, rowan, and hawthorn, intertwined with each other. Shallow grasses carpeted the forest floor, while clusters of wild mushrooms added to its natural charm. This forest has become a sanctuary for rare animals and birds, including horse deer, snow cocks, golden eagles, and woodpeckers. Against the backdrop of a blue sky and drifting white clouds, swans could be seen sporadically soaring overhead.
Sayram Lake, akin to a celestial mirror, beckons brides from all corners of China. With a quest for beauty, they hope to capture a unique and treasured emotion within the enchanting expanse of this land. Adorned in wedding dresses, they transform into ethereal beings, gracefully wandering amidst the blooming flowers on the lake. Their movements evoke the delicate flutter of colorful butterflies, their every step a testament to their joy. Some brides beamed with a modest, shy demeanor, their eyes glowing with happiness as they cast gentle glances, subtly expressing the beauty within their hearts.
Others exuded a joyful passion, fearlessly running and leaping through the spruce forest. Their pure, snow-white wedding dresses fluttered in the wind, leaving behind a trail of exquisite beauty. Within this dense forest, their happiness would be etched deeply in their hearts, every step they took becoming a precious moment interwoven with their footprints, encapsulating the essence of a lifetime.
Within Sayram Lake lies an ancient and poignant legend. Long ago, this place was a picturesque meadow adorned with blooming flowers. During those days, a young girl named Qiedan dwelled here, her heart entwined with that of a Mongolian youth named Xuedeke. Unfortunately, a wicked demon coveted Qiedan’s beauty and ensnared her within the confines of his palace.
However, Qiedan remained resolute and brave, refusing to succumb while awaiting an opportunity to break free. Finally, that day came, and she seized the chance to escape the clutches of the devil. Yet, with no means of escape, Qiedan, to protect her purity and dignity, was compelled to plunge into a deep pool.
Upon realizing that Qiedan had tragically passed away, Xuedeke was overcome with immeasurable sorrow. Without hesitation, he too leapt into the pool, sacrificing his life to be eternally reunited with his beloved. In an instant, the calm waters transformed into a raging torrent, surging and cascading in a torrent of emotion. The heartfelt love and tearful lamentations of the lovers materialized into the captivating essence of Sayram Lake.
To this day, Sayram Lake remains a mirror of sapphire blue, a testament to the enduring trust embedded within the bond of love.
