I have been to Xihu Lake in Hangzhou and visited Taihu Lake in Wuxi, both well known for their natural beauty. But to be honest, neither of these places comes close to matching Lugu Lake.

Back when there weren't any major roads crisscrossing Yunnan Province, it took weeks to get to Lugu Lake from the town of Lijiang. Its isolation has helped preserve much of the area’s natural beauty, which still remains today. And, as an added bonus, it only takes about six hours to get there from Lijiang.

On an early winter morning, two workmates and I caught a mini bus from the old city of Lijiang to the Lugu Lake. The bus ran on narrow mountain roads and seemly twisted around the countless switchbacks. And to slow the trip down even more, frequent landslides blocked road.

After an eight-hour ride filled with bump, jolts, and the occasional smack, we FINALLY got to our destination. I felt as if all of my bones had been relocated by the jumps and jitters of the bus--even my brain felt like it had shifted and was resting uncomfortable in my head. However, a quick look around removed all of my worries and the gorgeous scenery made me shrug off the exhaustion immediately.

In the Mosuo dialect, Lugu means sacred water falling down from Heaven. If you're lucky enough to visit this magical place, I think you'll find that the name provides an excellent and truthful description.

Surrounded by the snow and cloud-capped mountains, the Lake looked like a sapphire shining under the sun. The crystal blue water mirrored the sky, clouds and the Mosuo villages.

There are five islands in the Lake, and two of them are in Yunnan Province, Liwubi and Lige Island. Recommended by the local guide, we chose to visit Lige.

Most people living on the island are known as Mosuo people, a branch of the Naxi minority. Mosuo society has retained a strong matriarchal tradition. People from the outside world call the area around the Lugu Lake the “Fairyland of the Feminist”. And most people see it as living fossil for us to witness how our ancestors lived hundreds of years ago when family bonded by the blood from the mother's side.

My colleagues and I settled down at a family hostel near the riverbank. It was a traditional house built in the Mosuo style. The building was made of wood, and there was no heating system in it.

As we went there in early winter, the hospitable hostess lit a charcoal brazier for us to keep warm.
The hostess was a traditional Mosuo woman, about 30-years-old. She had long dark hair, big brown eyes and rosy cheeks. She had two children with her lover, and both of them lived with the hostess' mother.

Even slight changes is social structure can be confusing for an outsider, and we quickly began to wonder why there wasn't a male host in the family. But the woman told us that Mosuo family loyalty is centered on women and property belongs to the family. But what's interesting about this is their idea that property is shared and not possessed. A grown man is expected to shoulder his responsibly in a family by living with and taking care of his mother and his sisters' children all his life, as their uncle. His own children stay with the mother in her mother's house, where he visits occasionally and helps as a relative, never as "the other half".

We also met the hostess’ nephew, a handsome young Mosuo guy named Geru. He had bronze-colored skin, and wonderfully curly hair. Tourists liked to call him the Sylvester Stallone of Lige Island. Knowing that we were from Beijing, Geru was very delighted and butchered a sheep for our dinner. He said that he had been to the capital city once, and loved the metropolis very much.

The dinner we had in the hostel was sumptuous. Besides the roasted lamb, we had barbequed potatoes and the Pipa Pork, a kind of air-dried pork that is generally the main dish served at local festivals. And a bottle of Sulima was requisite, which is a traditional alcoholic drink brewed from corn.

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