I call my trip a "pilgrimage," not only because it was truly very "long" and arduous, but also as a way for me to show my respect for Larung Gar - a true sacred site of Buddhism.

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I'm not a devout person or particularly interested in any particular religion. I'm simply a culture enthusiast, a travel lover, and someone who always believes in good things. Therefore, Larung Gar is the destination for me. It's the world's largest Buddhist academy, a place not just for monks, not just a coveted destination for Buddhists, but a place that soothes my soul after moments of uncertainty, as the famous Greek playwright Menander said: "Culture makes all men gentle."

And then, I left Hanoi to go to Larung Gar - a Buddhist sanctuary.

Aside from the restrictions on foreign visitors, the journey to Larung Gar was truly a test of endurance. I flew to Chengdu, then had to travel by bus through Kangding and Garze to reach Larung Gar. The transit distance was 865 km, which is equivalent to the car journey from Hanoi to Quang Ngai. The long road encompassed a variety of terrains, from snow-capped mountains to fields of golden rapeseed flowers under the sun, with uphill and downhill sections. We had to remain silent throughout the journey to "hide" our foreign tourist status, because if the police discovered us, we would likely be forced to return to Chengdu.

We only had one day to stay in Larung Gar, so we decided to spend a night in Sakda before setting off. The next morning, we woke up early, got ready, and waited for the local driver to pick us up. Once it was safe, the hotel owner and driver signaled for us to quickly get into the car. Because there were many checkpoints along the way, the Tibetan driver had to quickly take us to a road right at the foot of the mountain. Our task was to trek the 3 km ahead, while he would wait at the other end of the bridge. In the cold early morning, we silently walked along the mountainside, crossing large rocks. Along the way, many rocks were carved with the words Om mani Padmi hum and arranged around the stream. Throughout the mountain trek, we met many locals. They seemed quite familiar with the sight of unfamiliar hikers, and always smiled at us as a greeting. The walk was arduous, but thinking that each step would bring us closer to the "red valley," we quickened our pace. Only when we met the driver at the other end of the bridge did I feel a little more at ease.

Sitting in the car, having passed the checkpoints and recalling the thrill I'd just experienced, I imagined myself as another disciple of Tang Sanzang, enduring 81 trials on my journey to obtain the scriptures. And my "sacred scriptures" were incredibly valuable. It was the moment I opened my eyes and realized I was in a valley overflowing with red, at 8 a.m., and the sky was still full of stars. How strange! I took a deep breath; the air was cool and crisp, carrying a very distinctive scent—like the smell of an ancient temple, or a pagoda perched precariously on stone steps. The scent of peace and tranquility.

Exactly 40 years ago, in 1980, Jigme Phuntsok – a highly influential lama of the time – founded this monastery with the aim of revitalizing Tibetan Buddhism and sharing its message with the rest of the world. Initially, the monastery consisted only of small, earthen-walled meditation huts where he would retreat. Over the years, the academy has grown to attract more than 40,000 monks and nuns. Along with that, tens of thousands of red wooden houses have been built, creating a red valley amidst the vast green mountain slopes.

This unique landscape is the initial attraction for tourists visiting Larung Gar. But it is the mystical culture that truly keeps them coming back, so that anyone returning from the "red valley" says: Larung Gar is a place everyone should visit at least once in their lifetime.

Life and people here are truly unique. They live in an unchanging cycle: In the morning, they go to the academy to meditate, read scriptures, and study Buddhism. They only return home at sunset, bathe, and cook dinner. Everyone is a vegetarian. They carry their food in small indigo bags, drink soy milk, and pick whatever vegetables they can find to cook on their way home. Here, all the toilets are public. They share the facilities for bathing, washing clothes, and personal hygiene. Thousands of people don't feel inconvenienced by this "communal" lifestyle; they are completely connected and share everything.

Larung Gar is located at an altitude of nearly 4,000 meters above sea level, so the weather here is extremely harsh. Winds blow in gusts, and the weather is freezing cold year-round. Besides wearing thick layers of clothing and building wooden houses to retain heat, the residents of Larung Gar use Buddhist scriptures to warm their hearts, and for them, that is the most effective way to cope with the winter. The day I visited, the temperature was around -7°F.^oC. Everyone was wearing a thick fur coat, one hand holding a rosary, the other a prayer wheel, muttering prayers and hurrying along in the cold.

The red date tea here has a very unique taste. Later, after returning to Vietnam and trying it in many places, I never experienced that feeling again. Perhaps the difference isn't in the flavor, but in the moment. I drank the tea while standing in the middle of the valley, secretly observing life in Larung Gar, watching each red dot move about in the freezing weather.

I had previously heard a lot about the Tibetan ritual of "three steps and one prostration." With every three mindful steps, they touch their five limbs to the ground, then prostrate themselves. In the cold weather and thin air, even for non-believers like me, traveling is difficult, yet they can perform this ritual for a long distance, even when no one is watching or when it's raining or windy. Perhaps that is the miracle of "faith."

Tibetans prostrate themselves more than 100,000 times in their lifetime; for them, "three steps, one prostration" is a spiritual experience, a vow. And if they die on that journey, it is a peaceful and meaningful departure.

Towards evening, the sun began to shine. Wandering alone, listening to the temple bells, squinting as I watched a man and his goat return, I thought of the story of a father who sold all his livestock to fulfill his wish of making a pilgrimage of "three steps and one bow" to the holy city of Lhasa. He was exhausted and died on the lonely mountain road. Waiting in vain for his father's return, the son, upon reaching adulthood, resolved to fulfill his father's wish, traversing countless high peaks and deep valleys of the majestic Himalayas to reach Jokhang Temple and offer prayers at the Buddha's altar, completing his father's mission of faith. Faith is truly something extraordinary, and how fortunate are those who still place their faith in life and wholeheartedly pursue it.

I truly love Larung Gar because it's isolated from the outside world. A place where people cast aside all worries and live in the most pristine way. A place where I, or even thousands of other tourists, come and go, but it doesn't change the mystique and spiritual beauty within them. A place halfway up the valley, also halfway through time. Where storms and hustle and bustle cease after the red hues. A place that, once visited, will be remembered for the rest of one's life…

And so, as I leave this place, and even as I sit here writing about my journey, I can still hear the chanting and the sound of the prayer beads, the lingering scent of red apple tea bringing peace to my heart.