For ardent travelers, few places in the world are more enticing—or more intimidating to plan for—than the jagged peaks and ancient valleys of the Tibetan Plateau. Luckily, Songtsam provides the perfect gateway to the region’s dramatic landscapes and rich history. With luxury boutique properties across the Yunnan and Sichuan provinces of China and the Tibet Autonomous Region, Songtsam’s sophisticated yet serene retreats serve as a living museum for experiencing Tibetan culture, artwork, and cuisine—and spirituality, too, of course. The founder, Baima Duoji, is a Tibetan documentary filmmaker whose mission was to share the beauty of his heritage, and the exquisite drama of its mountaintops, with the world.
“Buddhism is a method to understand the universe—most Tibetans are happy, and it’s because we believe in this philosophy,” explains Duoji. “I developed our core mission at Songtsam to pursue the source of happiness, the essence of happiness.”
A lofty goal, perhaps, but having recently returned from a weeklong journey across the southeastern edge of the Tibetan Plateau—spanning Shangri-La, Cizhong, Tacheng, and Kunming—I feel nearer to nirvana (or my version of it) than ever before. Read on for the ultimate itinerary, from highland vineyards and treks through the Yunling Mountains to exploring rural villages, ancient cities, and the equally ancient wisdom of Tibetan monasteries. Detachment may be another fundamental Buddhist belief, but it’s impossible not to fall in love with this unique corner of the world.
Shangri-La: High Altitude and Even Higher Luxury
I started my journey in Shangri-La (a fittingly auspicious start to any pilgrimage), the capital of the Tibetan autonomous prefecture of Diqing. Though part of the Tibetan historical region of Kham, it belongs to the Yunnan province in southwestern China. Though the Tibetan Autonomous Region (TAR) borders the city to the northwest, my journeys would take me to Tibetan villages across the countryside within Yunnan, so I only needed a Chinese visa for my trip. (A trip to Lhasa requires an additional Tibetan travel permit).
Located in the eastern Himalayan foothills, Shangri-La serves as the gateway to paradise (otherwise known as the Tibetan Plateau). While the city was once known by the Tibetan population as Gyalthang (and, in Chinese, Zhongdian), it was renamed in 2001 to capitalize on the popularity of the 1933 novel Lost Horizon, which called this heavenly landscape Shangri-La. Though the name-change was a tourism innovation, it’s nevertheless fitting for the region—and for my elegant accommodations, as well.
I arrived in time for dinner at Songtsam Linka Retreat Shangri-La, a serene and sophisticated enclave overlooking the verdant valley and Songzanlin Monastery. The hotel is a veritable treasure trove of Tibetan art and artifacts, and I spent the following day pursuing traditional pastimes—horseback riding and archery—and exploring the famous Buddhist monastery, the largest in Yunnan, built by the fifth Dalai Lama in 1679 and known as ‘Little Potala.’
We were lucky to be accompanied by our wise and witty guide, Kirin Sonam Tsering, through the entirety of the journey, and his knowledge of Tibetan culture and Buddhist philosophy was invaluable. When we visited the monastery, he walked us through centuries of Buddhist thought, and the importance of being present. As if speaking to my addled 21st-century mind, he emphasized the purpose of stillness and reflection—and of the need for meditation.
“We have to learn how to stop, and start living in the moment,” said Tsering. “If you learn to live in the moment, you will discover there are so many fantastic things going on around you.”
It was the first of many visits to holy sites across Tibet, the Buddhist temples offering moments of reflection and silent offering: “All the statues and symbols for meditation are here for you to think. But don’t think about what you’ll have for dinner, or it won’t work,” said Tsering. “So, whenever you are around the statues in the monastery you have to be here in your mind—in your body, in your heart.”
I remembered his wisdom as we set out for our next destination, starting our winding journey up through the mountains to the banks of the Mekong.
Cizhong: Highland Vineyards in the Himalayan Foothills
The next day, we set out for Cizhong, breaking up the long, winding drive with stops in the countryside to appreciate the staggering, arid cliffs, and vast valleys below. In the morning, we hiked in the Niding forest, passing through Buddhist prayer flags and stone offerings to enjoy a hilltop breakfast prepared by nearby Songtsam Benzilan Lodge. The cuisine at each resort honors traditional Tibetan recipes and flavors, and is often served family-style—though an al fresco setup can always be arranged).
We then began our journey onwards, into Cizhong, where emerald rivers carve through the deep valleys of the Hengduan Mountains. En route, we stopped at an overlook to witness the Moon Bend of the Jinsha River, the upper portion of the Chang Jiang (Yangtze) River, which snakes between the towering peaks along the border of the Sichuan province. The landscape from here on out was utterly breathtaking, as we drove the narrow roads clinging precariously to the edge of the Meili Snow Mountains. Stopping at a cliffside overlook, we watched the clouds gather round the Khawa Karpo, the tallest and holiest peak in the range.
We’d been informed by Baima Douji in Shangri-La that our journey to Cizhong would put everything into perspective—revealing the cause for the fundamentally humble mindset of the Tibetan people—when you see just how high these mountains are.
“On your drive tomorrow, you will see that the gap between the lowest and highest point of your journey is around 16,000 feet. The highest peak is around 22,000 feet. If you go even further, to Eastern Tibetan, the summits are even taller,” said Douji. “So, when you see these massive mountains, you realize how small human beings are. You realize that you shouldn't think that you can actually do everything. It’s sort of like astronauts—they go to space, and then when they look back to the Earth, they realize how small they are.”
When we finally arrived at Songtsam Lodge Cizhong, located along the upper banks of the Mekong River, the change in landscape was striking. We’d departed the relative bustle of the capital city and arrived at a rural retreat that was as thoughtfully designed and elegantly adorned as our previous abode in Shangri-La. The 26-room Songtsam Lodge in Cizhong just reopened following a renovation this past August, with private terraces and gardens, and balconies overlooking the sloping vineyards and jade waters of the Lancang River.
We ventured into town, a short walk from the property, to explore the remote mountain town, including the Cizhong Catholic Church, a wondrous blend of Chinese, Tibetan, and gothic architecture built by French missionaries in the late 19th century. The area is also a developing wine region, famous for its high-altitude varietals, and the lodge is Songtsam’s first wine-driven property. After a wine tasting, we were able to make our own blends to bring home. So, if I ever lose perspective on my own mortality—a wisdom gained beneath the snow-capped Tibetan peaks—I can always have a glass of wine to bring me back.
Tacheng: Parallel Rivers and Golden Monkeys
Setting out from Cizhong, we headed for another rural hideaway in the valleys of the Hengduan Mountains: Tacheng, a fertile agricultural hub within the Three Parallel Rivers region of Yunnan, a UNESCO World Heritage site renowned for its staggering biodiversity. Checking into Songtsam Lodge Tacheng, I was delighted, yet unsurprised, to see that our accommodations maintained that same signature artisanal elegance. Tibetan art, traditional textiles, and Thangka paintings adorned the stone and wood interiors, enveloping guests in rich jewel tones of indigo and burgundy, while massive picture windows looked out over terraced fields and dense forests. I spent a blissful afternoon sunbathing poolside and reading in the lobby, watching the wind create rippling waves across the grasslands below.
We set out to visit the local community, where residents belong to the Lisu minority—an indigenous group descended from ancient Diqing tribesmen who settled these valleys during the Qin and Han dynasties around 220 BCE. The Lisu reside here alongside the Naxi people, another of Yunnan’s ethnic minority groups, creating a unique blend of distinct cultures and languages within the Weixi Lisu Autonomous County. We spent an afternoon learning to grind soy milk under the helpful oversight of welcoming villagers, completely undaunted by the language barrier. Songtsam works closely with these local communities, integrating them into every facet of the business, as it does at every property they operate in the region.
“Wherever the hotel is located, the staff lives in that village. Our mission is to provide job opportunities. We have around 1,800 staff and more than 90% are locals,” explained Douji. “What we're doing right now is trying to provide more working opportunities in these rural regions, and, in return, these villagers are carriers of the local countryside, and the culture.”
By integrating this foundational altruism into the company’s practices, and fostering a deep connection with nature and spirituality, Songtsam succeeds in helping guests discover a deeply personal version of ‘Shangri-La.’
On the last morning of our stay, we headed out to the nearby Yunnan Golden Monkey National Park, home to the endangered black snub-nosed monkeys, known locally as the "Spirit of the Plateau." A quick trek uphill through the Yunling Mountains brought us face-to-face with these adorable, admirably unafraid creatures hanging from branches in the high-altitude coniferous forests. Their willingness to put on a show—arguing, snacking, and dozing off right before the visitors lining the path—speaks to how deeply protected they are. It’s a fitting sanctuary; in Buddhist culture, harming any living creature is a sin, much less these sacred animals who loom large in local folklore.
Kunming: The City of Eternal Spring
For our final destination, we returned from our rural environs back to the city life once more—traveling from Tacheng to Kunming felt like traversing not just mountains and valleys but centuries and civilizations. The capital of Yunnan, Kunming is another popular port of entry for Tibet-bound travelers, located on the Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau. But the local architecture and atmosphere of the city feel far more modernized—and this more cosmopolitan environment was reflected in our final home-away-from-home: Songtsam Linka Kunming.
Designed by Pritzker Prize-winning architect Wang Shu, the indoor-outdoor boutique hotel blends the beauty of the surrounding landscape—including, notably, the highland freshwater Dianchi Lake and surreal limestone formations of the Stone Forest—with the urban energy of Kunming and its Himalayan cultural roots. Another intoxicating blend of earthly beauty and spirituality can be found within the hotel’s art gallery, where the exhibit Original Goodness showcases original photography by Songtsam’s founder, sorted through the lens of nature, people, and Buddha, emphasizing the importance of finding harmony between all three.
While Shangri-La heralds the entrance to the Tibetan plateau, Kunming is considered the gateway to the ancient South Silk Road, and this bustling energy is alive and well on the streets of the city—whether it’s the artistic stylings along Wenlin Street or the vibrant overhead lanterns and busy kiosks lining the Night Market. Kunming is known as the ‘City of Eternal Spring’ as a result of its mild year-round climate, and is home to the largest flower market in Asia. Additionally, from mid-April to early May, the city’s famed jacaranda streets transform busy sidewalks into a lavender haze of blossoms—especially Jiaochang Middle Road, which becomes a mile-long purple tunnel beneath intertwining ropes of purple flowers overhead.
Wandering through the busy city streets on my final night in Yunnan, I reflected on my sheer luck, and genuine gratitude, for being here, in this moment, in this part of the world. What a blessing it is to be able to explore, to discover new things, to order small pot rice noodles for my last dinner (and again for breakfast the next morning) when I returned to my hotel. I was reminded of my guide’s words at the beginning of the trip:
“Half the time, our mind is not here and we have to set our mind back into our body to restore its concentration. We have to start looking inward, to our heart—then you’ll find more and more interesting things within.”
At that moment, I was unworried about my early-morning flight, or the next deadline, or even if I knew in what direction I was headed. In a busy city, I was living utterly in the moment. Perhaps I’d achieved nirvana after all.
