When Young, You Should Go Far Away: A Solo Soul Journey to Lijiang, Lugu Lake, and Shangri-La

Ever since I got "neurotic," I've felt so much more energetic — that sentence sounds absurd, but it was the truest reflection of my state of mind before I left. In May 2012, with nothing but a plane ticket, a DSLR camera, a backpack, and a book, I flew alone to Lijiang.

Someone asked me: "Why alone?"

Well, where do you find someone who's exactly right to accompany you across thousands of miles of travel? A girl's independence should begin with traveling alone. A life without travel is merely survival. Perhaps travel has a thousand meanings, but its form is only one: to hold on, and then to let go.

This article is just a record of my feelings after clearing my mind — I dare not call it "tourism," because that sounds too formal. Walking through some places I wanted to see, in my own way — that's all.

Departure: A Willful Escape

Date: May 28, 2012 Duration: 10 days Cost per person: Approximately 10,000 RMB Traveler: Solo

At 7:10 PM on May 18, I flew direct from Shanghai to Lijiang. The first thing I did after stepping out of the airport terminal was — stand there and stare blankly.

No plan. No guidebook. I hadn't even booked anything for the next day. I just wanted to be willful for once, throw my bag over my shoulder, and come to this land.

Just as I arrived at the guesthouse, I unexpectedly received a text from a fellow traveler I'd met online, inviting me to dinner. The enthusiastic innkeeper, Brother Mu, handed me a map. Excitedly, I grabbed it and headed out. But the moment I stepped through the gate, I was completely lost — which direction was south?

At that moment, I finally understood why my colleagues thought my solo trip was ridiculous.

Fine. Let fate guide me. I "followed" the crowd in the direction with the most people and ended up at the center of the ancient town — Sifang Street (Square Street). By the stone bridge, I set a floating lantern on the water and made a wish: May I find someone to love, and never part until our hair turns white.

A 10-minute walk took me a leisurely half-hour. Only with someone coming to pick me up did I finally manage to meet up.

Four strangers, each carrying their own stories, met in a place they thought could help them clear their minds. But having flown across mountains and rivers to get here, I realized: clearing your mind has nothing to do with the place. It's the heart that matters.

So we drifted, numbing ourselves — drinking from roadside restaurants to bars, then from bars to riverside eateries, until we didn't go back to rest until 1:00 AM. On the late-night streets, without the bustling crowds, there was a slight distortion in the sense of time. Our footprints covered the entire ancient town — this wasn't about admiring the nightscape; we were just hopelessly lost.

Lijiang: Laziness and Getting Lost

The next day, I slept in luxuriously. The guesthouse had a skylight on the roof. I lay spread out like a starfish, lazily staring into space. I waited for my new travel buddy from the day before to help me move — a girl staying in such a remote area alone wasn't entirely safe.

Xiao Dai carried my big backpack while I strolled along with my camera, snapping photos along the way. The roadside guesthouses, the bougainvillea — they bloomed just for themselves, naturally and beautifully. Actually, the world is like flowers in bloom — so fast, and everyone understands that. So why can some people still not see through it?

In the afternoon, I went to Shuhe Ancient Town to check it out, thinking about moving there. Lijiang was still a bit too noisy; a friend had said Shuhe was quieter. My travel buddy Sister Zhou turned back and smiled at the police station entrance, looking utterly goofy. Across the street, a sign read: "Secret to a romantic encounter: Get yourself drunk, give others a chance..." Clearly, that didn't quite match my idea of a romantic encounter.

Lugu Lake: Stillness and Self

On the third and fourth days, I joined a small tour group. Cost: 680 RMB, everything included except meals. First stop: Goddess Mountain, at an altitude of over 3,500 meters. The cable car offered beautiful views, but I was too tense to enjoy them — stuck between wanting to go up and not being able to go down.

It's like life: once you choose a path, no matter how hesitant or terrified you feel, you can only move forward bravely. Life must go forward.

At the top, Goddess Cave, also at 3,500 meters. Everyone else sat outside resting and enjoying the view, but I went in alone to explore. The cave was dark, damp, and hard to breathe in. The scenery before me was as blurry as the photos I'd seen. Seeing couples and groups helping each other along, I felt a little lonely. Humans are inherently solitary; don't compare yourself to others — it only makes your heart more bitter. I silently encouraged myself and kept walking forward.

That evening's activity was a home visit. We had an authentic farmhouse meal, then joined a local bonfire party. People here naturally open up. We danced the most primitive dances around the fire — unfortunately, I hadn't brought my camera charger, and my phone battery died by nighttime.

The next day, my shoes were caked with mud from the bonfire party. After watching the sunrise, I couldn't resist going back to my room to scrub them clean with a toothbrush.

The innkeeper at Lugu Lake was a recently retired soldier. He spoke in a blunt, gruff way, but once you got to know him, he turned out to be a really lovely person. The wetland by the "Walking Marriage Bridge" stretched about 300 meters. According to the guide, after a couple pledged their love, the young man had to carry the girl across this bridge — a true test of the guy's physical strength.

Walking into a matriarchal society, I laughed so hard I bent over. The sky and lake at Lugu Lake were a clear, bright blue — unpredictable. Enjoying the lakeside tranquility, this was the solitude and peace of mind I was seeking. With a calm heart, you won't become restless, won't let desires fill your soul, and won't let your spirit run aground in an oxygen-deprived space. Life isn't about chasing external splendor; it's about finding inner peace and serenity.

On the misty morning lake surface, a small flower had a flamboyant name: "water-natured and flirtatious" (a local term for a type of water lily, Ottelia acuminata). This year, for some reason, I've fallen for this vivid color. And finally, the sky turned pink.

That evening, I went back to discuss photography with a local photographer for over an hour, planning to sleep early. But on my way, I got lost again. Drawn by the sound of singing, I found a quiet bar. On the second-floor terrace, I ordered a bottle of the owner's homemade plum wine. A cool breeze drifted by as I looked out over the panoramic view of the ancient town. Feeling my own insignificance, all those little things I once cared about seemed so trivial.

I think this is one of the meanings of my journey — at least, to become a little more open-minded.

After half a bottle of plum wine, I was slightly tipsy. My travel buddies found me after dinner, and I sang them a song — "I'm Willing" (Wo Yuan Yi). "I'm willing to do anything for you —" The only thing I couldn't understand was that they charged 50 RMB per song. Still, I got a smattering of applause.

Looking at the still sky, I held onto a pure corner of my soul. Keep a calm heart — not swayed by vanity, power, money, or emotions; not lost in all the flash and glamour. These days, people chase so-called happiness by draining their health, sacrificing their dignity, and selling out their character. When you reach old age, you'll realize that the things you desperately sought in your youth were so虚假 and elusive. Then, you'll gain a new understanding of life — realizing that a calm heart is the true essence, the real blessing.

A Solo Commemoration: Youth and Poetry

On the fifth day, I traveled alone and didn't deliberately ask friends to take photos for me. I wanted to leave behind some records of my youth, so I shot a series of portraits around the ancient town.

It is better not to meet, so that we cannot fall in love. It is better not to know, so that we cannot yearn for each other. ... But since we have met and known each other, why not just remain as strangers? How can I sever ties with you, to avoid this life-and-death longing?

That day, I closed my eyes in the incense-filled hall of the temple, and suddenly heard the true words in your chanting; That month, I spun all the prayer wheels, not for transcendence, but to touch your fingertips; That year, I prostrated myself along the mountain road, not for an audience, but to feel your warmth; That lifetime, I circled mountains, rivers, and pagodas, not for the next life, but to meet you along the way.

You see me, or you don't — I am there, neither sad nor joyful. You think of me, or you don't — the feeling is there, neither coming nor going. You love me, or you don't — love is there, neither increasing nor decreasing. You follow me, or you don't — my hand is in yours, never letting go. Come into my arms, or let me live in your heart. Love in silence, joy in stillness.

At the top of the mountain, a newly built temple with beautiful murals caught my eye from afar. In contrast, that evening, my travel buddies and I played a bottle-spinning game, and this was the result...

Shangri-La: Altitude and Open-Mindedness

On the sixth and seventh days, I went to Shangri-La with a tour group. Cost: 780 RMB, everything included except meals. First stop: Tiger Leaping Gorge. I'm a hardcore hedonist — if I had a second chance, I definitely wouldn't have walked down! But I was too embarrassed to take a sedan chair — the guide said, "You're young and fit — how could you?"

This is Tiger Leaping Rock... And you, tree — why did you have to grow right in the middle? I was jumping all over the place trying to frame the shot, and this is the best I could get.

The world's largest prayer wheel — you have to turn it clockwise three times. The auntie who led my horse charged 120 RMB for half an hour. In the evening, we went to a show, and the guide taught us the most flamboyant way to present a hada (ceremonial silk scarf). Later, a whole roasted yak was brought in, along with qingke (highland barley) wine. After four or five small cups, I was instantly floating — I later learned that drinking at high altitudes gets you drunk faster.

Back at the hotel, I washed my hair and took a shower. No hairdryer. I passed out and slept straight through till morning. Later, I heard that at high altitudes, you can easily get sick, and once sick, it's hard to recover. It's best not to wash your hair or shower, as it can cause altitude sickness and insomnia at night. I muddled through anyway — but I'd advise others to be cautious.

I'm willing to try new things. When traveling, I want to experience local customs more deeply, so I went on stage to learn a Tibetan dance — too bad you can't see me in any of the photos.

Shudu Lake in Pudacuo National Park. I often dream of catching fish, but unfortunately, I couldn't go into the water here — otherwise, I would have fulfilled that dream. The guide said it was very cold, and many in the group rented down jackets for 40 RMB. But it didn't seem that cold to me — maybe because I was dressed warmly enough.

I love this kind of messy, slightly weathered beauty. Flowers covering the mountains — I can never remember their names. I'll just remember the feeling.

Epilogue: Defining a "Romantic Encounter"

Throughout the journey, what mattered most was the relaxation of my mind. No plan, no direction. It was often: step out the door, get lost; lose things everywhere.

Someone asked me: "Did you have a romantic encounter?"

In my dictionary, yan (beautiful) means something wonderful, and yu (encounter) means meeting or getting to know someone. It's more about the "encounter" — the lovely guide A-Cai I met, my travel buddies Xiao Dai, Sister Zhou, Rui, Xiao Zhan... They brushed past my life briefly, bringing me nothing but joy.

To me, that is a romantic encounter.

In the End: The Meaning of Travel

When you're young, you should go far away. This journey didn't completely heal me, but it taught me a few things:

First, clearing your mind has nothing to do with place. It's the heart that matters. You can fly to the ends of the earth, but if your heart is unsettled, everywhere is a prison. True peace comes from a calm heart within.

Second, life must move forward. Like the cable car on Goddess Mountain — stuck between wanting to go up and not being able to go down, you just have to grit your teeth and keep going. Once you choose a path, no matter how hesitant or terrified you feel, you can only walk it.

Third, keep a calm heart. Don't be swayed by vanity, power, money, or emotions; don't be lost in the flash and glamour. Life isn't about chasing external splendor; it's about finding inner peace and serenity.

Fourth, a romantic encounter isn't necessarily about love. It can be meeting an interesting person, a beautiful landscape, an unexpected moment of getting lost. Every encounter that brings you joy is a romantic encounter.

Finally, a passage for myself, and for you:

Stay unperturbed, watching flowers bloom and fall before the courtyard; remain indifferent, gazing at clouds roll and unfurl across the sky.

This is the realm of Zen, and the embodiment of a calm heart. May we all find our own peace and open-mindedness on the journey.

When you're young, you should go far away.