Danba is a small county in the mountain valley whose residents are Gyarong Tibetans, or farmers living in a mild climate. This area of Tibetan-speaking hamlets perched stunningly on 8,000-foot-high mountainsides that loom over the town of Danba, has long been a way station on a circuit through the country's southwest, which is home to some of China's most exotic travel destinations.

Today, the gorgeous hillsides here buzz with activity: the felling of trees to build the distinctive Tibetan houses, with their maroon and white trim, which are nowadays put into service as guest lodges, and the smoke-belching, horn-blowing buses carrying tourists who arrive each month in ever greater numbers.

The takeoff has been so pronounced, in fact, that some of the villagers of Danba are wondering whether their success might not one day soon recall another fairy tale, the killing of the goose that laid the golden egg. But that is perhaps getting ahead of the story.

This settlement's break with timeless isolation came in 1998, when a mysterious adventurer from Hong Kong drifted through the area, making his way up the rugged slopes that overlook Danba and discovering this village and a remarkable local family.

"Lamu" is the name of what seems like 1/3 of Tibetan women in this area. Another third seems to be named "Zhuoma." "Da Lamu" means "Big Lamu." The "Da" (Big) is added to differentiate her from her little sister "Xiao Lamu" (Little Lamu).

There were three young women in the household, already known locally as the “three beautiful sisters,” including one who had recently won third place in a regional beauty contest. If that didn't get the traveler's attention, it soon became clear that this was no ordinary family, and that these were no ordinary sisters.

In a region of poor subsistence farmers, where many peasants speak little Chinese and few girls go far in school, the three sisters had been raised by farsighted parents to speak Mandarin, and they were full of spunk.