Best Time to Travel to Dunhuang

Dunhuang was an important link between the ancient Central Plains Dynasty and the Western Regions. It is also a hub for the exchange of Eastern and Western civilizations. Many ancient buildings and cultural relics have been perfectly preserved and passed down to future generations for admiration. Here is the best time to travel to Dunhuang.

When is the best time to travel to Dunhuang:

The best time to visit is from May to October each year.

May to October are generally the peak seasons for tourism in Dunhuang. Tourists are advised to avoid the Golden Week holidays or public holidays as much as possible.

It is recommended that you spend 2-3 days sightseeing. This time should be enough to visit all the important attractions in Dunhuang.

Dunhuang belongs to Jiuquan City, Gansu Province, located at the westernmost end of the Hexi Corridor, at the junction of Gansu, Qinghai and Xinjiang Provinces. Gansu is one of the birthplaces of Chinese civilization. As an important nodal city on the Silk Road, Dunhuang naturally witnessed the migration and integration of the Chinese nation over thousands of years. If you want to visit Dunhuang, you mainly want to visit the Mogao Grottoes.

The Mogao Grottoes are located 25 kilometers southeast of Dunhuang City, on the cliffs at the foot of the Mingsha Mountain. From Dunhuang City, go southeast, pass the Crescent Spring, and continue south to see the Sanwei Mountain.

Walking up close, you can see that the Mingsha Mountain is opposite the Sanwei Mountain, and the Mingsha Mountain embraces the Mogao Grottoes. The Mogao Grottoes, the Mogao Grottoes that have haunted me for thousands of years. Over the centuries, countless skilled craftsmen have followed each other, taking root in this deep desert to spread their brushstrokes and paint different styles of the times.

Even from thousands of miles away, my heart is pounding. When I stand naked in front of the solemn face that has been weathered by thousands of years of wind and sand, and remain silent at the foot of the Buddha and Bodhisattva, awe is not enough to describe the burden of my beating heart, tears of joy are natural.

This is a place where one does not want to harbor evil thoughts. Everything around is so harmonious and serene. It calmly accepts the touch of different times. One day, the slumbering body of thousands of years is shaken by a broken-down Taoist priest with a vacant look in his eyes. She wakes up.

The physique of guarding the frontier is still strong, the gaze is still kind, it’s just that she woke up at the wrong time, she woke up too humiliatingly. Her holy body should not have suffered such humiliation, Dunhuang cried, the Mogao Grottoes of the 20th century cried in a way that moved the world, just like the tears of blood that flowed from the eyes of the King of Khotan.

Looking up at the nine-story pavilion, after thousands of years of wind and sand, it still faces the world calmly and deeply, without a trace of attachment or nostalgia, as calm as ever.

In the face of thousands of years of memories that have been preserved intact, visitors can’t help but shed tears, their faces covered in dust but smiling brightly. There is no more perfect moment than this. Galloping wildly on the ancient road of history, seeing the places where our ancestors lived, seeing their faces and smiles now, the most primitive starting point is so simple and pure.

We are all ordinary people, we don’t have the wisdom of Monk Le to see through thousands of rays of golden light, we don’t have the master painter’s brushstrokes to depict the world in our eyes, we only have a childlike heart that pursues truth, goodness and beauty.

Looking around the walls and ceiling of the cave, there are paintings of Buddha, flying celestial beings, musicians, fairies, and naked women everywhere. There are Buddhist scripture stories, transformations, and historical Buddhist sites, as well as pictures of gods and monsters, portraits of donors, and all kinds of exquisite decorative patterns.

We constantly praise the magical creativity of our ancestors, moved beyond belief by the visual impact of the paintings. The selfless love of the world, like the King Sibi cutting flesh to feed a pigeon, is the epitome of the brilliance of ancient Chinese art.

Speaking of the origin of the Mogao Grottoes, we must mention Master Le Zun. In AD 366, Master Le Zun passed through Dunhuang, and this rich and friendly Western Region kept him. The hooves and bells of camels on the Silk Road rang out the dawn of hope. By chance, this passing monk was fortunate enough to witness the appearance of the Buddha’s light in the Mogao Grottoes, with thousands of rays of golden light. From then on, he took root here and created a unique and epoch-making historical narrative method.

On this land of tolerance, honesty and goodness, everyone calls themselves a disciple, from nobles and gentry to commoners and musicians. Everyone who believes that the sky is the spirit of God will contribute their own meager efforts to create this unprecedented feast of murals and sculptures in the world.

Since then, it has gone through the Sixteen Kingdoms, Northern Dynasties, Sui, Tang, Five Dynasties, Western Xia and Yuan dynasties. Although it has been ravaged by nature and human beings over the long centuries, on the three-mile-long Mingsha Mountain, there are still more than 490 caves, filled with clay sculptures of Buddha and murals based on Buddhist stories. It is said that if they were connected together, they would form a painting gallery more than 50 miles long.

The world’s evaluation of the Mogao Grottoes is: “Seeing the Mogao Grottoes in Dunhuang is like seeing the ancient civilizations of the whole world.” As the historical gate of China to the west, Dunhuang has always maintained an inclusive attitude. Although the government closed its borders and cut off external exchanges during the Ming Dynasty, the folk customs and traditions have never been interrupted. It was reopened in the Yongzheng period of the Qing Dynasty, and the government encouraged the migration of 54 counties in Longyou to expand the workforce. The Buddhist holy land has always had a steady stream of incense.

“Lonely smoke straight in the desert, setting sun round on the long river.” Anyone who has set foot in Dunhuang will inevitably fall into this boundless world beyond the Great Wall. It seems that all the joys and sorrows of the past no longer feel heavy or oppressive. It’s time to release the worldly shackles that have been piled up for too long.

When you see the flying celestial beings playing the pipa in the Dunhuang Square, your mind instantly soars to the Silk Road thousands of years ago. “Flying clothes, the whole wall is filled with wind”. Put down all the troubles and pains you have on the road to pursuing dreams or fame and fortune, leaving only a sincere and true heart to bow deeply before the Buddha.

I really admire Sanmao’s straightforward and free-spirited personality. A person who crosses the Sahara to sense the guidance of the soul, when faced with death, calmly asks for half of her life to return to the magical Sun Moon Lake, while the other half is left to be lost on the Mingsha Mountain next to the Crescent Spring in Dunhuang.

Choose to blend into the desert. As the poets have said, human beings are just a grain of sand, a drop of water in the universe. In the face of the sand, stone and soil that have witnessed the evolution and change of dynasties over thousands of years, individuals are truly as insignificant as a grain of dust in the vast ocean of smoke and waves, and there is no need for any regret.

After a feast for the eyes, one cannot help but touch the wound that pains the Chinese people, and indeed, the people of the world. “Dunhuang is the history of sorrow for Chinese scholarship.” Chen Yinke’s words make every Chinese person heartbroken. A cultural treasure house that has existed for thousands of years has not been buried by the wind and sand, but it suffered a great humiliation nearly a hundred years ago. It was deceived, robbed, and destroyed. Our culture was deeply hurt. In that turbulent era, because the Chinese people were powerless to protect it, it was taken away by foreigners through such despicable means and preserved in foreign museums. As a result, in the 20th century, “Dunhuang is in China, Dunhuang studies are abroad.”

We cannot see how much damage Dunhuang has suffered in history. However, from the shameful figures in the materials and the Chinese cultural relics displayed in foreign museums, we have to bow our heads and reflect with grief. Powerlessness is painful, because the destiny of the times dictates it, the country is beset by internal and external troubles, the people are living in fear, no one believes that this ancient civilization can be warm and full, everyone is in danger, and faith no longer exists. Just as Yu Qiu-yu said, if he had been born a hundred years earlier, he would have fought a duel with Stein, Berthold and others. He would have fought to the death.

But even if you kill one Stein and one Berthold, who knows how many more Western explorers will come to China to “examine cultural relics”? When foreigners point guns at the heads of Chinese people and say, “Do you want to race with my bullets?” When archaeologists shake hands with Wang Daoshi with chemical glue and say, “Long live our pure friendship!” When the county magistrates, prefects and governors wave their hands and say, “Deal with it yourself!”

It is understandable that we see thousands of volumes of scriptures and exquisite murals in other people’s museums. On the contrary, those cultural relics that were captured in that turbulent era of war and fire actually received better protection. Many years later, we can say that culture and civilization have no boundaries.

Walking on the vast desert, following the hazy camel shadows, “The sky is blue, the loess is yellow, a thousand-year dream of Dunhuang.” It is difficult to view the events of a hundred years ago with modern eyes. Why didn’t the people resist? Why did the government stand by and do nothing? Why was the country so weak and vulnerable? There are too many things that make people uncomfortable. After all, everyone with some knowledge should know that China’s history has its own trajectory, it’s not just about telling stories.

The lonely smoke in the desert has witnessed the vicissitudes of centuries. The camel shadows are hazy and reflect the setting sun. Even though the Mogao Grottoes in Dunhuang have been cruelly destroyed, they still awe us with their strength and resilience. They still stand in the northwest of the motherland, unyielding. Fortunately, the spirit of the Chinese nation has always been upward, and there are always strong and determined people who stand up to protect the injured body.

From Zhang Daqian, Chang Shuhong, Duan Shu-jie to “Dunhuang’s Daughter” Fan Jinshi, the humiliated Mogao Grottoes were rescued by the Chinese people. When the vast yellow sand, years of war and imperialist explorers were about to destroy these magnificent caves together, a group of Chinese blood and bone, benevolent and righteous people stood up. They resolutely came to the dead desert and used their blood and lives to rescue, protect, research and promote Dunhuang culture, so that the Mogao Grottoes shone brightly again. The rescued murals and sculptures are now flying before our eyes. Thank you for waking up from your dream, thank you for being reborn after thousands of years.

Today, Dunhuang is a popular tourist destination. People from all over the world come to pay homage to the Buddha’s face and find the awe they have lost for so long. Perhaps after many years, the dilemma of Dunhuang will no longer make the Chinese people suffer so much. This is also a manifestation of Dunhuang’s tolerance and forgiveness. Over the millennia, Dunhuang has absorbed the cultures of all nations of the world. It is a blessing that they are now passed down to the world. As the saying goes in “The Great Dunhuang”, no one can truly own the Golden Sutra, it is the wealth of the world.

In this land of flying celestial beings, I dream of Loulan and the crescent moon, I gaze at Sanwei and Mingsha, I shepherd the west wind alone, I drink the desolation, I break through the sunset at the Jade Gate, I listen to the singing of the ancient road, I say: Magnificent, my great Dunhuang!

I wait alone for the dawn, I make up my mind, one day I will pay homage to Dunhuang again.