....And Back Again
Trip Start
Jan 09, 2009
1
3
44
Trip End
Feb 23, 2009
Kunming, Yunnan, China
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Voicing no objections, neither did Loman, we went off to walk through the town and buy some fruit for breakfast. I had left Chongqing to travel through and experience Laos and Cambodia, not really to a place I'd already been to. However, it was somewhat amusing relating to Loman the experience biking around the lake when I stopped in searing heat to buy and eat a carton of spicy dried noodles from some native Bi woman who neglected to remove a filthy damp rag from one of the restaurant tables which was slowly getting infested with flies. Loman related rather scornfully how his Mexican compatriots he was out here with refused to accompany him on his trip because they would miss the comforts of hotels, so didn't want to do it on the cheap. Actually, the whole venture turned out to be quite benign and totally unnecessary to eat into a lot of money.
Dali, apart from the gilded roofed gates and decorated balconies looking resplendent at night, takes on the affectation of traditional Chinese arts and folklore, museums and opera houses, although is really just a place to peddle bric-a-brac, nic-nacs and other goods such as batik, or what have you, and get slowly sozzled in one of the numerous Western bars that line the streets these days. While sauntering, Mac helplessly vaunted his Chinese expertise by humorously saying most of the souvenirs weren't handicraft-ed at all but were mere manufactured artifacts churned out from some factory in Guangdong such as Shenzhen where he's from.
Jocularity aside, most of the tourist attractions are expensively overrated, such as a temple costing 120 Yuan entrance fee, and the infamous Three Pagodas to see reflected in a nearby lake, were thankfully given the cold shoulder as we three, like-minded, visited the outskirts of another temple at the foot of the mountain with a prestigious history, lingered awhile taking photos of each other, headed to the entrance to Cangshan Mountain which is a stepped climb to the ridge, and then went to have some food. It was more interesting seeing the native Bi woman in their brimmed conicled straw hats, in light blue smocks above darker blue trousers move around peddling their wares, while others were clad in decorous head banded dresses. All rather colorful.
We ordered a selection of vegetables on display in a glass cabinet and a couple of meat dishes with a shared bowl of rice to round things off. Chinese love their food. I don't think I've put on more weight anywhere else due to the quantity of foods served. And it was predictable to see Mac rapidly tucking into his food using chopsticks. We each shared some beer and ventured into the breezes. Mac announced that the winds in Dali used to be so fierce, they could stop a charging horse.
"What's happened to change things?" I asked.
"Probably climate change," He answered reluctantly.
Visiting the Dali Municipal Government Buildings, Mac shared his China know-how by saying how Dali came under scrutiny and criticism by using too much space and building materials which were quite unnecessary.
"Dali, you are very greedy, the nation reacted," according to Mac's first class info.
Sure, the place looked classy, spacious and prodigious, a small park-like complex, like a lot of money has been spent there.
We drove down to the shore of Erhai lake. Despite newly married couples pledging to respect their spouses for the rest of their lives, and their friends or relatives spraying cans of foam at them in which a large amount landed in the water, Mac boasted that the water is as clean, unpolluted, and among the best in China, despite the odd used can being tossed into the water, and what about China's other less fortunate lakes? Still Chinese brides are generally pretty and feminine dressed in their satin dresses. I couldn't resist taking one or two photos:
"Mei guanchi, mei guanchi," Mac softly assured. I'm sure they didn't mind.
We coasted back to The Hump. An elderly peasant woman wearing a straw bonnet tied down with a scarf slowly crossed the motorway before we narrowly missed her.
"Do such things happen in England?" Mac curiously asked.
"No, it's quite dangerous, not to mention illegal. I think she would have been killed." I responded, not quite believing what I'd just witnessed. Nothing, though, should surprise me. This is China. Yes, and as it consists of the largest morass of people, it's heartening to see that there are people like her who aren't in sync with these fast-paced modern times. It won't be possible to fine tune everybody, particularly with a sizable elderly population who are more used to a slower more distant past. It's also people like her who still live relatively difficult lives, who struggle to eek out a living selling fruit and vegetables in an open market, who get very little help - if any at all - from the Chinese Government. It'd like these comments hushed up. Pockets of other Yunnan locals were pedestrianizing the hard shoulder as we raced along. Loman just quietly shook his head.
After booking in and crashing in an eight bed dorm room (cheap is best) I had the good fortune to be introduced to Cissie, a Chinese girl in her twenties who would be the other passenger on the trip down to Laos. She wanted to stay with a friend and help look after her dog rather than come to Dali, much to Mac's criticism. That wasn't all I knew about her, but she seemed quite pleasant.
I retired to my dingy dorm to hit the sack, ready for the off on the morrow.
