Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms, Dancing through Tibet (8-Day Travelogue)
I had long dreamed of visiting Tibet, but severe altitude sickness on a previous trip to Shangri-La's Pudacuo National Park made me worry. With spring arriving, I wanted a local spring outing. While searching for the best blossom spots, I saw Nyingchi and finally made up my mind: just go! The plan was simple—head straight to Nyingchi for the peach blossoms. If I adapted well, continue to Lhasa; if not, turn back immediately. So the itinerary was loose; I’d figure it out as I went.
I started taking Rhodiola in advance and bought some to steep in water. Then a sudden work trip to Guiyang popped up, and I could fly from there, conveniently fitting in a bit of Guiyang sightseeing too (I'd already explored Qiandongnan thoroughly). I've been to Guiyang several times, so this time I picked two places I hadn't visited: Qianling Mountain Park and Qingyan Ancient Town. The best part of Qianling Mountain Park is the macaques—so bring plenty of fruit. They're bold and unafraid of people!
Qianling Mountain is basically a big park; strolling around and feeding the monkeys is nice. Hongfu Temple at the summit is Guizhou's largest Buddhist monastery and its premier temple. The vegetarian lunch there is excellent, so try to reach the dining hall before noon. It costs only about 10 yuan per person, like a school canteen with twenty or thirty dishes. Volunteers serve, you just pick what you like—don't waste it. The food is genuinely delicious, so it's popular and runs out fast.
Qingyan Ancient Town is thoroughly commercialised now, with good food, accommodation and entertainment. But if you want a real old-town feel, Zhenyuan Ancient Town is better, though sadly they are relocating original residents there too, so it will likely become fully commercialised soon.
Visiting an ancient town off-peak when it's quiet, sitting by the window of a teahouse on the main street watching the bustling crowds, is pleasant. Especially in spring, with lush greenery and blooming trees. But sunny April days in Guiyang can be hot, and exploring the town is tiring.
Train from Guiyang to Chengdu;
the official journey begins.
I felt a little thrill the moment I boarded the plane. Usually I fall asleep immediately, but this time excitement kept me awake. As we neared Nyingchi, the weather was perfect—endless snow-capped peaks under a clear sky.
Stepping off the plane, the sunlight was piercingly bright, the sky incredibly blue, the air so pure; my excitement soared.
Since I arrived a bit late, Nyingchi's Peach Blossom Festival had just ended, so there weren't many tourists. A bus from the airport goes directly to Nyingchi bus station. Plenty of accommodation nearby; with the festival over, prices were low. Worried about altitude sickness, I rested that afternoon and bought some fruit and snacks at a supermarket. But by evening I had a slight fever and panicked a little. I went to a pharmacy for cold medicine and glucose (luckily this was before the pandemic, otherwise medicine would have been hard to buy).
As a first-timer in Tibet, I was afraid of altitude sickness and didn't dare rent a car, so I joined a small tour group—a Lhasa-Nyingchi route. We joined directly in Nyingchi and could conveniently return to Lhasa with them. In the morning, our vehicle went straight to the Nyingchi Peach Blossom Festival venue. Nyingchi's peach blossoms can be seen in many places; blooming times vary due to temperature differences. The peak bloom had already passed by the time we visited, but hillsides covered in peach blossoms dotted with rape flowers were still beautiful!
There's an observation deck where you can climb up for the view. Of course, because it's a specially cordoned-off area with deliberately planted rape flowers, it feels a little less natural.
We drove uphill and stopped at a large car park—Sejila Pass, altitude suddenly soaring to 4,700 metres. Just moments ago it was full of spring; then abruptly freezing with snow and thin air that made breathing difficult.
Directly opposite, far in the distance, was Namcha Barwa! Known as the "Shy Girl Peak" because it's rarely seen through perpetual clouds, this time it was crystal clear! Beyond the peach blossoms, the highlight of this Nyingchi trip was hoping to see Namcha Barwa's golden sunrise, fingers crossed. There's also a fascinating legend about Namcha Barwa and his younger brother Gyala Peri—if you're curious, look it up. On the road, the driver asked if anyone had heard it; I proudly knew it!
We descended. Lunch was Motuo stone-pot chicken in a small town, quite tasty. After lunch we went to Tongmai, where three bridges stand side by side above a river—old, middle-aged and new. The notorious Tongmai natural barrier is long gone. It was the dry season, the river narrow and gentle, so the danger wasn't apparent. But the driver said that in the past, vehicles overturned here every year, and landslides would cut off the road whenever it rained. Seeing it now, you really appreciate the infrastructure achievements.
We passed a village with its own old and new bridges. Villagers sold local specialties on the bridge. Standing there, you had blue sky, white clouds, sunshine, river water and snowy peaks.
Along the road and on hillsides, peach trees bloomed sporadically. Though not in vast orchards, some individual trees were exuberantly full.
Entering Gangxiang Nature Reserve, the scenery changed dramatically: wide grasslands by the road, neat wooden fences near villages, all set against distant mountains—a perfect pastoral scene.
Our hotel sat at the very end of a village, backed by grassland and shrub forests. I dropped my bags and went straight out to the grasslands.
The hotel's location was great; outside the window were grasslands, a river and snowy mountains. Unfortunately, clouds rolled in that evening, so no starry sky.
Early morning, I strolled through the village. A few oxen ambled lazily, the whole place quiet and peaceful. Snow peaks were wrapped in cloud. As the sun slowly rose, filtered by clouds, the snowy mountains caught a hint of golden light, almost like a sunrise.
After breakfast, we visited the nearby Gang spruce forest. Gangxiang Nature Reserve aims to protect high-yield spruce stands and other rare plants and animals. The forest growth rate, sustained growth period and per-unit timber volume here far exceed similar forests at home and abroad, especially the spruce. The Gang spruce forest is hailed as one of China's most beautiful forests.
We set off for Midui Glacier. En route I suddenly spotted a distant snowy peak with a strange summit, layered like it was stacked tier upon tier. In April-May or September-October, when some snow melts, the pattern resembles armour, hence the name Armour Mountain.
Midui Glacier's main peak is 6,800 metres, its snowline only 4,600 metres, and its terminus just 2,400 metres. After entering the scenic area (tickets required), it's 7 km from the gate to the glacier. There are small battery cars to shuttle you closer, but not all the way. You can walk or ride a horse (horse riding costs extra).
From the gate to the glacier, it felt like passing through spring, autumn and winter. At the viewpoint, a large platform overlooks a huge stretch of glacier and a big glacial lake. It wasn't the dramatic icefall I'd imagined, but the scenery was still impressive.
Onward to Ranwu Lake. Along the way, we passed a pretty little lake, stunning in its beauty!
We had lunch in a small village near Ranwu Lake and tried the lake's fish, slender and slightly larger than a fingerling, with a good flavour.
After lunch, I wandered to the village edge. The ice mountain was close, the river still frozen. Many yaks ambled along the lanes, very docile. Fields were being prepared for planting with farm machinery. From a distance, it felt familiar. Suddenly I recalled the scene from the film "Kang Rinpoche"—when the pilgrims reached Ranwu Lake and their tractor broke down, the old village chief invited them to stay and help with the farming. The whole image was very similar!
Ranwu Lake is a landslide-dammed lake right next to the Sichuan-Tibet Highway and snowy mountains. When we arrived, it was half water, half ice, mirroring the blue sky and white clouds. There's a large self-driving camp by the lake; the bottom-left photo shows the camp's hotel, an absolute scenic-room dream. Those driving themselves might want to check it out.
We continued to our night stop at Guxiang Lake. The scenery en route was gorgeous too—a small glacier right by the road, and we stumbled on a tiny market at a fork, a micro-village of just a few houses. Peach blossoms surrounded every home and hillside, utterly enchanting. We reached Guxiang Lake around 8 p.m., had dinner, and lit a bonfire. Weather was poor, no stars, and with no lights outside, I went to bed.
Waking early, the sky was overcast. Outside our window was a snowy peak, though trees partially blocked the lake view. The village was quiet; most houses had been turned into guesthouses, each claiming the best vantage points. Down by the water, driftwood littered the surface and shore, giving a desolate oasis feel.
After breakfast we headed for Lulang Town. Actually, from Ranwu Lake onwards we were retracing our route, back to Nyingchi then diverting towards Soga Village. We reached Lulang around noon, a typical tourist town.
The grasslands and forests outside town were barren because the season hadn't arrived yet. Promotional pictures looked gorgeous, but it would take another month or so. Near the town was a small lake with a white stupa in the middle. Lots of mani stone piles around the lake, some very nicely stacked.
Turning from Nyingchi towards the Grand Canyon, peach blossoms multiplied again, and thanks to the microclimate, they were even more splendid than before.
By the roadside, several peach trees were exceptionally tall, covered in white blossoms tinged with pink.
We stopped at a viewing platform. Across the river stood a huge sand dune. If the river were perfectly calm and reflected the dune, it would look like two palms pressed together in prayer—hence the name Buddha Palm Dune. But this is a river; we were there in the dry season when the water flowed slowly and didn't mirror at all. I used a mirror to fake the shot. Below the platform was a large souvenir shop.
Onward to Soga Village. Perched on a mountainside facing Namcha Barwa, with the Yarlung Tsangpo River below, we pulled over as the road climbed higher. Looking down, snowy peaks gleamed in the sun, the Yarlung Tsangpo snaking through, fields verdant on both banks dotted with miles of peach blossoms. Though Nyingchi's bloom was tailing off, and the blossoms in Gangxiang, Lulang and Ranwu Lake had faded, here they were at full glory—breathtakingly beautiful.
To the centre-right of the photo, a sizeable sandy area right by the river and facing hillside peach trees had been cordoned off as a paid attraction, with many souvenir stalls.
Arriving at Soga Village with time to spare, we went straight to see the blossoms. Important note: we were with a small group. Almost the entire village is now tourist-oriented; land has been parcelled off and fenced, and many fields charge separate entry fees.
The peach blossoms in Soga Village were truly magnificent. Against snowy peaks, thick layers of snow-white petals with a blush of pink. Barley shoots had emerged in the fields, accentuating the blossoms' charm. As the sun set behind a snowy mountain, the peaks and clouds bathed in golden light. The leftmost was a celebrity tree—its blossoms shaped like a heart!
That night we stayed in a Tibetan family guesthouse, enjoyed a special yak hotpot—delicious—and tasted barley wine. The host even sang a loud Tibetan song for us. Soga is only about 3,000 metres, but I would have fainted trying to hit those high notes. We had specifically booked one of the four bubble domes in the yard. These sit on concrete bases with a hard plastic spherical shell, the top transparent to watch the moon and stars. Sadly, clouds allowed only a faint moon. The dome-to-base seal wasn't tight (presumably for easy dismantling), so cold air leaked in. The bed had an electric blanket, and cold weather kept bugs out. A downside: no convenient bath or toilet. Fortunately, it was low season; the two-storey guesthouse had only our group of nine, with plenty of empty rooms, so it wasn't a problem. But for night views, it was fantastic—lying in bed gazing at the sky, just missing the stars!
Waking at night, I saw Namcha Barwa beneath cloud cover, the village dotted with lights, a hazy moon and one lone star.
Today we ended the Nyingchi segment. Having experienced no altitude problems, I decided to continue to Lhasa.
Early morning again, the bubble dome's position was perfect. Peach blossoms everywhere in Soga Village—every step a photo.
Finally, the sun rose, Namcha Barwa peeking through clouds, a belt of cloud wrapping its waist. No golden sunrise, just a large halo around the peak.
Descending, sunlight streamed over snowy mountains. On the far bank of the Yarlung Tsangpo, still miles of peach blossoms.
We returned to Nyingchi and set out for Lhasa. On the way, we stopped at Kading Valley, a small gorge where cliff walls show naturally formed images of a giant Buddha, goddess, Guanyin, guardians, butter lamp and more.
The main feature is Heavenly Buddha Waterfall. In the dry season, the flow was thin. See what you can spot on the rock faces—there's a viewing platform right under the waterfall.
Instead of the expressway, we took National Highway 318 back to Lhasa, so we could see the Lhasa-Nyingchi Expressway crossing the lake. The railway has since opened; I wonder if it passes this way too.
Going on, the landscape suddenly changed from peach blossoms and spring green to barren desolation. We were clearly climbing, and climbing more.
In the distance, under a blue sky, snowfields reflected the sun. Wind seemed to blow the snow, creating shimmering veils at the snowline and sky. The slopes were lifeless, a road reaching upwards. The pilgrims in "Kang Rinpoche," after their tractor broke down, physically dragged their cart up this very road, singing Tibetan songs, tying prayer scarves at the fluttering prayer flags.
We reached the journey's watershed: Mila Pass, 5,013 metres. Beyond this pass, it's no longer the pleasant climes of southeast Tibet. The pass is perennially snowy, extremely barren, but the scenery is striking, especially in good weather, with exquisitely pure air. However, at 5,000 metres, be careful. I saw a large group from a tour bus step off, and within ten minutes someone was carried back on a stretcher.
We arrived in Lhasa around 8 p.m., checking into a Tibetan-style hotel on Beijing East Road—close to Jokhang Temple, Barkhor Street, and not far from Potala Palace. Dinner was another yak hotpot at a nearby Tibetan restaurant, very good. Tired as I was, Potala Palace was just around the corner, so I strolled over after eating.
In Potala Square at night, the palace looked solemn and majestic. Puddles of water on the square were for taking reflection photos—too tired today, I'd try next time.
Today I decided to explore the city and take it a little easy. The hotel had a large courtyard with a skylight—very pretty when lit at night—but lacked a rooftop terrace for views.
Three or four hundred metres from the hotel to Jokhang Temple Square; I walked over after breakfast.
The square was already crowded with tourists and pilgrims. I followed the flow around Barkhor Street. 'Barkhor' means 'middle circular pilgrimage path'; many pilgrims, though few prostrating full-length.
We passed the famous Makye Ame restaurant—too early, not open yet.
Jokhang Temple, also called 'Zulakang' or 'Juekang,' was built by King Songtsen Gampo and is the heart of Lhasa. It houses the Jowo Shakyamuni statue brought by Princess Wencheng from Chang'an. Just follow a fixed circuit to visit.
Afternoon, Potala Palace. In low season, there were so few visitors—you could book on-site and buy tickets immediately. In summer, you sometimes need to reserve three days ahead. The palace sits on Marpo Ri hill, a fort-like architectural complex originally built by Songtsen Gampo to welcome Princess Wencheng, later the winter palace of successive Dalai Lamas. It's over 200 metres tall, appears 13 storeys but actually has 9.
You can rent an audio guide; without one you're just looking at emptiness. Unexpectedly, the peach blossoms here were lovely too.
After Potala, I visited Chakpori (Medicine King Mountain) next door. The path was lined with stone slabs carved with Tibetan script. I didn't find a place to carve the six-syllable mantra on erasers, but I climbed to the Chakpori viewing deck—a classic Potala photo spot, the same scene on China's 50-yuan note.
Try to get a shot similar to the 50-yuan picture.
Dinner at the Snowland Restaurant, utterly exhausted. I'd planned to see the "Princess Wencheng" performance, but gave it up.
I'd long hesitated between Drepung Monastery and Sera Monastery, finally choosing the grander Drepung. Drepung is a Gelugpa Tibetan Buddhist monastery, one of China's six great Yellow Hat temples. 'Drepung' means 'rice heap,' symbolising prosperity; it's the largest Tibetan Buddhist monastery. It consists of the Tsokchen Assembly Hall, four Dratsangs (Loseling, Deyang, Ngagpa, Gomang) and the Ganden Phodrang. The Dratsangs are like university departments, making Drepung the Hogwarts of Tibetan Buddhism!
Enter the monastery from the left steps up to the sunning platform. To the right of painted stone Buddhas, there are huge metal frames. During the annual Shoton Festival, a giant 30 x 20-metre Thangka of Sakyamuni is unfurled there.
Drepung is vast, with many buildings that are interconnected yet self-contained. Audio guides are available again, or you'll miss a lot. I met another friendly yak.
Not all areas are well preserved; one dilapidated section forms a stark contrast with the rest.
I'd read online that besides Sera, Drepung also has debate sessions, supposedly in each Dratsang. I searched everywhere, asked a vendor who didn't know, and finally found it.
The left of that photo shows a small car park; the right road is Drepung's eastern path. Follow it across a road bridge to see a compound with lush vegetation—that's the debate courtyard. This wasn't a performance; monks were genuinely debating.
Sitting by the wall watching them, though I understood nothing, they were totally immersed, like classmates arguing over a problem during break.
On the way back, I deliberately detoured to try the pickled cabbage bamboo chicken—tasty but very hard to find!
Another dilemma: with two days left in Tibet, Yamdrok Lake or Namtso? I preferred Namtso because of Shengxiang Tianmen and starry skies. But there were no two-day small-group tours; it wasn't yet peak season, and lakeside accommodation had been dismantled. Fixed structures are banned by Namtso, so lodgings are temporary and removed in low season. Only day trips were available, so I chose Yamdrok instead, saving Namtso for later.
I skipped the hotel breakfast and headed early to Guangming Gangqiong Sweet Tea House. It was packed; finding a seat was tricky but interesting—though a bit confusing about what to order.
After eating, we set off for Yamdrok Lake.
At a viewpoint resembling a pass, we could see the road we'd come from and the one to the lake. Yamdrok was "fully visible" below.
Driving down to the lakeshore took a while; the driver found a specific spot that allowed entry. Later he said many lakeside areas are fenced off by tourism companies, with prefab houses plonked down. Good locations, but you can't enter freely. Yamdrok means "Turquoise Lake," one of Tibet's three sacred lakes. The water was a bit murky near shore but intensely blue overall. The season hadn't arrived, so the shore was barren—a different kind of scenery. A small yellow dog followed us; lunch was in a prefab: milk tea, bread, tsampa, etc. The dog ate most of the bread.
Returning, we passed a Tibetan village and explored its large temple.
Back in Lhasa, we had another Tibetan meal with opera performance. Couldn't understand a word, but the atmosphere was great. Walking past Jokhang Square after dinner, though the temple was closed, Barkhor Street and the entrance were still thronged with pilgrims and tourists.
Day 9: I met up with local friends and did some shopping. Yak jerky is delicious. Day 10: train out of Tibet.
From the train window, the landscape slowly transformed from snowfields and tundra to grasslands and lakes.
The Tibet trip ended. I saw miles of peach blossoms, the winding Yarlung Tsangpo, the rarely seen Namcha Barwa, beautiful Ranwu, Guxiang and Yamdrok Lakes, and made pilgrimages to Potala Palace, Jokhang Temple, Drepung Monastery (with real debates), and much more. Though a pity I never saw a single starry sky or Namcha Barwa's golden sunrise, and many places remain unvisited, as the locals say: "This is a samsara world; it's precisely the many regrets that make us cherish the present."
1. The biggest issue in Tibet travel is altitude sickness. Locals say: "It bullies men not women, the strong not the weak, the young not the old." Nyingchi's overall elevation is relatively low; southeastern Tibet is called 'Little Jiangnan.' If your itinerary allows, entering from here is a good choice to acclimatise, though Sejila Pass and Mila Pass are very high—don't mess around! I literally saw someone faint and carried off. But altitude sickness is unpredictable. An elderly couple in our group was completely fine, while a young woman in Lhasa later said she went to hospital. My wife had no major reaction except fatigue. As for me, from the second day in Lhasa, my face swelled every morning like a marmot, eyes barely open, but it subsided in an hour or two, repeating the next day. So don't pack your schedule too full, or you'll end up exhausted. After shopping on the last day, I crossed a footbridge and had to hold the railing, panting heavily. Some say taking the train helps gradual adaptation, but most trains to Tibet are oxygen-supplemented carriages—you can't rescue someone with severe altitude sickness midway, so they'd rather you get to Lhasa where hospitals are. Others claim once you start inhaling oxygen you can't stop; I'm not sure. Many hotels now have oxygen-enriched rooms; ours had large medical oxygen cylinders. Many people feel fine during the day but worse after sleeping, possibly because shallow breathing worsens hypoxia. Regardless, if you get severe altitude sickness, see a doctor promptly and leave Tibet as soon as possible.
2. Transportation is another big issue—long-distance travel. Inner-city Lhasa is very convenient. The best options are self-drive or chartered car, then ride-sharing or small group tours, then public transport. But self-drive is limited by altitude sickness. When we were in Lhasa, a self-drive group to Ngari had an accident and needed government rescue. Chartered cars offer freedom without the risk of driving while altitude-sick, but they're expensive: you cover the vehicle plus the driver's meals and lodging, and you need to know exactly where to go, or it's no different from a group tour. Ride-sharing is popular; you match with like-minded people, small numbers, greater flexibility, shared costs—if you can find a match. Many youth hostels have noticeboards with notes from people looking for companions or sharing rides. In peak season, this works well; in low season, matching is harder. As first-timers, we chose an easy small group. Advantages: hassle-free, no need to plan detailed routes or lug bags around. Disadvantage: less flexibility, though our driver was nice and stopped wherever we found something fun. Group meals have cost limits, but our group of nine all agreed to add dishes when food was good. A bonus: you quickly make new friends. One retiree couple over 60 had been travelling in the Middle East before the lunar New Year, then entered China via Nepal. They joined us for Nyingchi peach blossoms, toured around Lhasa, and when we left, they headed to Everest Base Camp. They mentioned they'd been to Antarctica two years before—respect!
3. Temperature swings in Tibet are drastic. Mornings, evenings and altitude changes cause big temperature drops. Bring appropriate clothing: a fleece-lined windbreaker is best—warm, windproof and dirt-resistant. Don't strip off layers too quickly, avoid catching a cold, as that can trigger altitude sickness. Also, with intense UV, hat and sunglasses are essential! Ladies, sunscreen applied constantly. Our train out of Tibet was an oxygen-supplemented carriage, making everyone drowsy. My wife fell asleep by the window for a short while and ended up with a sunburnt face.
4. Group tours handle accommodation, but confirm quality when booking; check online reviews to gauge reliability. Lhasa lodging is very well-developed, with three main districts catering to all budgets. Many recommend rooms with terraces—personal preference. I chose mine for proximity to sights and easy group pick-ups. Book early, or you'll tire yourself dragging luggage around.
5. Lhasa has plenty of great food: Tibetan, Sichuan and Nepalese cuisines are recommended, along with sweet tea houses and yoghurt shops. I tried Namaste Restaurant (Nepalese), Snowland Restaurant (Tibetan), Amdo Nodren (Tibetan), Guangming Gangqiong Sweet Tea House (sweet tea), Tshome Cold Noodles, and Pickled Cabbage Bamboo Chicken (Sichuan). All decent, depending on taste, but you can just search online for highly-rated places. A little family-run Tibetan eatery we found in an old residential neighbourhood was also delicious.
6. Tibet is vast; this was just a taster. Nyingchi's peach blossoms are truly gorgeous, especially around the Yarlung Tsangpo. We only reached Soga Village; deeper areas reportedly have even more spectacular blooms. The flowering period is short, but because timing varies by location, the viewing window is quite long—you don't have to go during the festival. For other destinations, let your schedule and pace dictate; don't rush, unless you're fit and altitude-immune. Many Lhasa attractions now require advance online booking; without it, you may be turned away outside low season. Also, Lhasa is two hours behind Beijing time; nights are late, mornings early—manage your time.
7. In Tibetan temples, remove your hat and do not photograph interiors. If you wish, you can donate, but it's entirely voluntary—unlike mainland temples with locked donation boxes demanding 198, 298 or even 1,998 yuan packages. Here, beside almost every statue is a small pile of banknotes, large and small. Many people place one bill on each, spreading their offerings equally. Remarkably, if you only have a large note, you can take change from the pile. At Jokhang Temple, a monk sat beside a Buddha statue with a big plate of offerings. An old woman placed a 100-yuan note and said something; the monk duly gave her change from the plate. Amazing!
8. Souvenirs abound. I bought yak jerky (expensive!), Tibetan incense and some snacks. As for bodhi seeds, turquoise, amber, caterpillar fungus, dzi beads and the like—even local friends aren't sure, so I gave up. Saffron, by the way, is mainly associated with Iran, not Tibet.
Travelogue contents: 1. Day 1, Chengdu to Nyingchi flight 2. Day 2, Nyingchi, Sejila Pass, Gangxiang 3. Day 3, Gang Spruce Forest, Midui Glacier, Ranwu Lake 4. Day 4, Guxiang Lake, Lulang Forest, Buddha Palm Dune, Yarlung Tsangpo River, Soga Village 5. Day 5, Soga Village, Kading Valley, Mila Pass, Lhasa 6. Day 6, Barkhor Street, Jokhang Temple, Potala Palace 7. Day 7, Drepung Monastery 8. Day 8, Yamdrok Lake 9. Epilogue: Travel tips Hotel index Guide index Air ticket index Website directory Travel index Cruise index Corporate travel index Join our partnership Distribution alliance Friendship links Corporate gift card procurement Insurance agency cooperation Hotel affiliation Destination & scenic spot cooperation More partnerships About Ctrip About Ctrip Ctrip hot topics Contact us Careers User agreement Privacy policy Business licence Safety centre Ctrip content centre Intellectual property Trip.com Group algorithm disclosure
