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My Search for Shangri-La
When a Fictional Paradise Becomes a Real-World Destination
The moment I stepped out of the airport, I knew this place was different.
At an elevation of 4,400 meters (14,400 feet), it is the highest airport in the world. No sooner had the aircraft door opened than a young woman a few rows ahead of me fainted. Presumably, it was due to the altitude, though I suspected the effect was more psychological than physical.
I felt no discomfort yet. What struck me instead was the deep blue sky and the crystal-clear air, so different from the haze of Chengdu I had left behind. The landscape seemed sharper, the light brighter, and the horizon farther away.
It was exactly what I had expected. After all, I had come in search of Shangri-La.
In 1928, an Austrian-American botanist named Joseph Rock set out for a remote corner of southwestern China. His mission was to collect plant specimens, but he found much more than that.
His reports in National Geographic revealed a lost world of extraordinary beauty: snow-covered peaks, ancient monasteries, vast alpine meadows, and isolated valleys inhabited by people whose way of life appeared untouched by modern civilization.
