The simple village life

View outside my homestay

Buddhist offering furnace

Yesterday morning, I awoke to the thick smell of incense burning, a child whining, and a woman speaking in Tibetan. Forgetting where I was, I looked around for a moment at the log cabin-esque room containing just one large bed, empty shelves, and a simple bed sheet covering the window. Then I remembered. I was in Wendu, a small farming village in the mountains of Qinghai. Running out to the front of the house, I stumbled into a sea of white. All around me everything was covered in recently fallen snow: the mountains in the distance, partially hidden by thick fog; the small, dirt-and-brick houses that make up the village; and the winding, worn-out streets. For the first time in China, I could not hear a sound. The silence was so profound that I could hear my heart beating.  

 I arrived in Wendu yesterday evening with my study abroad group. First we went to the village school and played with the local children and then we went to meet our different host families. Two other girls and I arrived at a large, blue metal door and were welcomed by a middle-aged woman with her young grandson wrapped in a blanket, on her back. Although she was a young grandmother, her wrinkles showed the age that comes early due to daily backbreaking work.  Her hair was long and black, parted in the middle and tied in two braids, and she was wearing the traditional Tibetan dress consisting of a long sleeve shirt under a thick long black overcoat that reached the ground. Like most other outfits I had seen, the right sleeve of her coat was slipped under the shoulder and tucked into a belt. The sleeves are so long, that when people are working, they only wear one sleeve. This forms a convenient pocket at their chest. Like this and this.

Because my roommates and I only knew a few Tibetan words and our host mother did not speak a word of English or Chinese, our interactions felt awkward; we did not know how to communicate to her. She motioned us to sit down at a low table where we drank tea and ate homemade bread. She kept checking in on us and refilling our tea, without saying a word. When we had finished eating the bread she brought us heaping bowls of handmade noodles followed by plates of pickled vegetables. Although it was the simplest meal I had eaten on the trip, it was definitely my favorite; I am addicted to bread and this bread unlike the notoriously bland Chinese bread was delicious.

After dinner, at around 7 p.m. she motioned us to do our business in front of the house---- they have no toilet or shower just a hole---- and then to go to sleep. We slept on a large carpet-covered bed, or rather a large block of packed dirt in a wooden frame that took up a whole side of the room. It was not the most comfortable, but I was grateful for the heating pad she gave us. With no central heating the room can get dangerously cold. 

Aoman in traditional Tibetan clothing

A herd of sheep heading to the mountains

 Life in this village can be very hard because there is no industry. Our guide, who was born in Wendu, was the first of his village to get a job in the capital, a 3-hour drive from his home. Those who live in Wendu farm the land and raise farm animals. These days the young adults leave the village to work in construction, meaning that the older family members have to farm the land and take care of the grandchildren. He says in the olden days, people were poorer but happier because they spent more time together. Nowadays the villagers have more money but are unhappier. Nonetheless, village life is simpler than city life. In Xining, weekend breaks are almost non-existent---- people wanting to make money non-stop. In the village, although the work is hard, on weekends people take a break. They drink tea with their friends play cards by the fire, and spent time with their family. 

I have just returned to Beijing, and I cannot stop thinking about Qinghai, a world so different than mine. I will never forget the colorful temples smelling of incense and yak butter, the monks chanting, and the homemade bread and fresh doughy noodles. What I especially loved about Qinghai was the friendliness and empathy of people that I met around the cities and villages; it was very refreshing.