Shangri la in Tibetan stands for 'Land to sacredness and peace', now thats a pretty tough reputation to live up to but I will admit driving through a complete blank canvass within the clouds is definitely one of those outer worldly experiences... with the exception of a crashed truck as a reality check.

When you arrive in the pouring rain and there are touts demanding that what you really need is a taxi to a different town another 200 km away you think here we go, smog, city bustle and disappointment lie in my path. But in Zhongdian I stopped myself and said 'actually, this is alright' and once away from the touts you touch upon a more relaxed atmosphere with people selling their second hand goods on the roadside alongside all the spices nature has to offer in quaint markets, and this is all before you set your eyes upon, and fall in love with the old town of Zhongdian.

Trapsing around looking for affordable accommodation we didn't fully assess our location until our bags were safe and snug in one of the lush rooms at low key Dragoncloud guesthouse. Now time for a wander, yes it is toursity and almost tacky but take a deep breath and see it for what it really is, bloody cute. Cobbled streets lined with dainty wooden structures, their walls and roofs jutting out at uneven angles, lanterns hanging at every corner, barbeques smoking out the tourists while cooking up a storm in the towns square and the occasional glimpse of a huge golden prayer wheel hovering above you, and that is Zhongdian. The most awkward vibes about the place are actually created by the western run eateries who semed to be missing something warm and comfortable as you enter but are definitely not lacking in the prices. Ignoring these and their western temptations we found an Indian and ate a delicious vegetarian meal tahht still cost almost as much as the room but we deserved it. This resataurant also served enourmous cheap breakfasts so naturally we were hooked from the start to the friendly Bhaskar Resto.

A mild stroll is all we wanted to live up to over the next few days and with this we succeeded, ther shops are ful of treasures, food and clothing both touristtyand nopt. The second hand markets had facinating jewelley, and while stopping to look at some bracelets I did one of th emost terrible thing ever. Prue noticed a child just right there on the side of the street having a poo, I took a photo. Claiming thaat she told me to do it doesn't make an adequate excuse.

On another stroll one evening, we witnessed a uniting Chinese tradition that gave us sentimental goose pimples (and that doesn't happen too often). The speakers in the town square started booming Chinese vocals with a pleasant melodic yet still upbeat and everyone dances in time. The grand circle is full of men and women, young and old, leather jackets sway alongside headresses, outgoing freestylers in sideways caps strut their stuff nect to those wearing high heels. What you feel is a youthful joy at the sight, these episodes have a name, Yangge or 'rice sprout song' is thought to have originated before the year 1000, anyone is free to join and express their joy through dance. It is a useful means to unite a village and therefore has been taken advantage of by the Chinese Communist party for support but nowadays it is an uplifting and inspiring event.