September 2024, the third stop of my Xinjiang tour: Hemu Village.

After 7 hours of long-distance travel (it snowed on the way), I finally arrived at Hemu Village. I imagined what Hemu Village would look like many times along the way, thinking how beautiful a village could be and whether it was worth traveling so far. When I arrived, I finally understood what "to measure the corn of others with one's own bushel" meant. First of all, Hemu Village is not small, it's very big. There are 8 bus stops. The village is divided into the old village and the new village. We stayed in the new village. The houses look like wooden houses, but the interior decoration is very modern. There is even underfloor heating. The outside of the house is frosty at night, but it's warm enough inside with a thin quilt. The new village is still under construction, and the construction site is a bit messy, but the surrounding mountains are beautiful. There are snow-capped mountains in the distance, and neatly arranged sentinels (big trees) on the nearby hills. The green grass on the hillside has turned yellow, and a few golden trees are dotted around. Horses are leisurely eating grass, occasionally looking up at the sky. The sky is as blue as if it has been washed with water, with big white clouds hanging in it. The clouds change shape and dive towards the ground, as if you could catch them if you reached out... Secondly, Hemu Village is a wooden village. The houses are all wooden structures. The furnishings are simple, primitive and simple. From different functional areas, you can imagine the daily life of the original inhabitants. In the evening, smoke rises from the wooden houses, the smell of barbecue is everywhere, the shopkeepers shout and music sounds at the same time, the female shopkeepers dance in ethnic costumes, the male shopkeepers throw meat into the air to attract crows, and the tourists are in high spirits. The whole village is boiling. The most incredible thing is that when I climbed up to the viewing platform, I suddenly felt enlightened. The viewing platform is actually a large grassland, at least 6 football fields in size. On the left is a high, colorful snow mountain, on the right is a cliff, under the cliff is a large birch forest, a river runs through it, and the village is on the other side of the river. Rows of wooden houses are like spectators, watching us tourists perform on the viewing platform - shouting and exclaiming. My heart was almost suffocated. I looked around at the mountains and snow-capped mountains, overlooking the village and wooden houses. They were so quiet, so holy, with the majesty of a gentleman who is not angry but prestigious, and I, how small I was.