Dali
We had the most horrible train ride from Lijiang to Dali. It was a sleeper train with four bunks to a cabin. The upper bunks were used for storing luggage, and the two lower ones were used to fit 4 passengers per bunk. Rafael, David, and I were seated in one bunk with another passenger, and Albert was assigned to another cabin. It was super uncomfortable sitting on the upright bunk with no arm rests. The train chugged along for nearly three hours. Rafael caught a stomach bug overnight, and was in a bad shape on top of it all.
We landed in Xia Guang, the totally modernized part of Dali. I couldn’t recognize it. There were skyscrapers and housing projects everywhere. They looked pretty ugly to me.
At the train station, there were armored police and military cars parked everywhere. Then a SWAT team pulled up, and a bunch of scrawny Chinese fellows in black attire and weapons (that weighed more than them) jumped out to question the driver of a car that tried to jump the passenger-pickup queue. It was chaotic there.
Jeremy
The owner of the guesthouse we had booked had offered to pick us up from the train station. After a few phone exchanges, he was right beside us with his phone stuck to his ear, and mine to mine. He introduced himself as Jeremy. He spoke English amongst six or seven others such as Japanese, Korean, Thai, German, and a few Chinese dialects; however, his English was difficult to understand. I wondered how he faired with the other languages. He had a great sense of humor … even when he didn’t try. He was just a funny guy overall. We all liked his company.
When we arrived at his guesthouse, which he said was only 15 km away but took 45 minutes to drive on the highway, he looked at us and said, “I forgot my door keys!” We were tired, so didn’t react at all; just thought that he’d figure something out. Then he cracked a big smile to show that he got us, and that it was a joke. The guys didn’t get the joke. I did, because it’s something I’d do to my daughters; it’s something that my dad used to do. I guess it’s kind of a Chinese prank.
Jeremy’s guesthouse is situated about 2 km from the old section of Dali. I had initially wanted to stay in the old section, but the pleasant mail exchanges between myself and Jeremy made me decided to choose his premises over others.
Albert and I shared a room, while David and Rafael got their own. The guesthouse was charming. Jeremy is a lover of marble art. His house was full of them. Dali is famous throughout China for its marble mountains. In fact, the Chinese word for marble is Dali Stones. The different shades of black and white, and the different tones of brown in the marbles create imaginative and natural artwork. Jeremy explained what to look for in the design that makes one piece more valuable than another. One of the characteristics is to look for the purity in the white, where the white is unblemished. Then one must look for the different tones of grey and black that distinguish themselves subtly from each other; that also goes for the shades of brown.
The other thing that Jeremy was very much into was the Pu’er tea of Yunnan. He explained to us the differences between the raw, fermented, semi-fermented, and green teas. We tasted the many varieties of teas that he collected, and came to appreciate the different teas of Pu’er.
Jeremy lived in one of the rooms in the guesthouse (airbnb we call here) with his two sons; one is 10 years old, the other is 7. His wife took her own life two and a half years ago. She was suffering from depression. They had moved from Hunan province six years ago. He was a highly-paid software engineer for a British company, and was sent abroad often for work. The pressure finally got to him, so he decided to quit work and move to Dali for a simple life, running the 7-room guesthouse. Considering the tragedy he and his sons had suffered, the three of them seemed to have dealt with it fairly well. He is not over concerned about the children’s academics like most Chinese parents are. He takes them with him on travels, which he often does. He particularly loves Chiangmai, in Thailand and Kyoto in Japan. He told us that once, when he was in Chiangmai, he had left his satchel that contained his passport, credit cards, and US$25,000 in a Tuk-Tuk (three-wheel scooter taxi). By the time he went to the police station to report it, the taxi driver was there with the satchel. He couldn’t believe such honesty from this poor man that he instantly decided that Chiangmai would be place that he would finally retire to. He rewarded the driver US$2,000.00.
At the guesthouse, his housekeeper cooked us breakfast. It was either rice broth or noodles with vegetables; both of which Albert didn’t like. It was fine for the rest of us. Jeremy picked up on Albert’s idiosyncrasy, so one afternoon when he cooked up a meal for us, he asked Albert if he wanted rice. Albert wasn’t fond of rice in general and ate mostly the meat and vegetables, so responded, “A little.” To that response, Jeremy picked up one grain of rice and put it on Albert’s bowl; and then turned to look at us with a big grin. The three of us broke out laughing … not only for the joke, but his Grinch-like face and grin.
Ancient Town
One morning, we went to the Ancient Town. As expected, it was swarmed with tourists. However, it was as crowded as in Lijiang; mainly because it is much smaller. The town has just one straight main street, which is just a kilometer or so long. It runs from the North Gate to the South Gate. There are side streets that branch off it, each of which is no longer than 300 meters long, running east and west. A hour’s walk would cover all of them.
I felt that both Lijiang and Dali have lost their charms, even though the towns themselves are still interesting to look at, particularly for new visitors. The overpopulation of tourists and provincial shopkeepers have just dampened their natural charms. They’ve just become Chinese Disneyland.
I went looking for the carpenter who had made the furniture for my house in Lijiang some years ago. He had also made me some wooden mannequins for Gongfu training, which I wanted to reorder. However, he had moved, and I wasn’t able to locate him.
Then I went to find the Chinese doctor who had cured me of a 10-year-old knee injury, but his clinic was closed due to vacation. I was out of luck with the two.
Erhai Lake
One afternoon, Jeremy drove David, Rafael, and I to Dali’s famous lake, Erhai. I remember the first time I had visited in 1993, when there was just farm land surrounding it. There were no street lights for miles. I went to it in pitch darkness on a bicycle with a couple of Japanese backpackers I had befriended. When we got there, there was a small fisherman’s boat docked on the side. I asked them if they could take us to their homes for a meal that we’d pay for. They rowed us to the other side of the lake where we met their families and had a great meal under candlelights. The candles were their only means of light … not for creating a romantic atmosphere.
This trip to Erhai was a huge disappointment. Because of polluters in the past, the government put up miles of 8-foot metal fences to restrict access to the lake. The fences were ugly. Additionally, because there were no more accesses to the lake, the grasses and trees behind the fences were unkempt. On the other side of the road, there were tons of buildings that looked unfinished in construction. I then found out that these were hotels that were constructed to attract tourists to the lake. They were priced very high at $200 and up per night, and as much as $1000 per night. However, the government suddenly decided that buildings should be constructed 100 meters away from the shoreline, so forced the property owners to cut off the front of the buildings to accommodate the new law. It didn’t matter how the building facade now looked, as long as they were 100 meters off the shoreline. The owners just chopped off the front, and left the front as they were … ugly as ever. The buildings and the shorelines were no longer attractive, therefore, the tourists no longer came there. Everything looked dilapidated.
We drove for miles before coming to a small spot that allowed access to the lakeshore. There were just a few tourists and street vendors around. Just as well … because the serenity made it charming.
Driving back to the guesthouse was crazy. The new houses were built without any street planning. They were just one-car-width wide. Always ran into a problem when another car came the other way. There was a lot of negotiation required. My guess is that the municipalities are run by old Communist farmers who don’t want to give up their jobs to young educated graduates. They have no clue on street planning, thus, the narrow streets designed for horse carts. It’s a shame that these cities are neither ancient or modern. They’re just a poor hybrid form.
Kunming
After three nights stay in Dali, we boarded China’s Bullet Train for Kunming. This was a much more comfortable ride that took just 2 hours and 15 minutes to reach the destination. The train had bucket seats, and ran 200 km/hr. On arrival, the train station was chaotic. There were no provisions for parking, taxis, or auto-pickup zone. Hoards of people just rushed out to the bus stops. Fortunate for us, Liwei came to meet us. He called Libing (who had returned to Kunming) to arrange where we were to be picked up. We had to walk about three or four hundred meters to a hotel’s driveway to meet him. Libing brought his BMW SUV to get us. He then drove us to the Orange Hotel, which is located near Kunming’s famous lake and park, Cuihu (Green Lake), which is surrounded by several universities; therefore, populated by young people and foreign students. Kunming universities have become destinations for provincial and overseas students because of the low cost of living and lower requirements for university entry. This is where many foreigners come to study Chinese also.
After four weeks of Chinese food day and night, the guys were craving for Western food. Where we were staying, there were many restaurants catering to foreigners; one of which Libing introduced was the Salvadore, which was located below the condo he and his family lived. The restaurant was full of expatriates. Albert ordered Burritos, and the rest of us went for hamburgers. The food was excellent. That’s where we went for breakfasts and several other meals after.
That evening, we went for a walk around the lake. We were stopped for a chat by an Indian fellow, who introduced himself as Abraham Lincoln. He was studying to be a medical doctor. His Chinese girlfriend was studying to be a nurse. When I spoke to Abraham in Hindi, he was surprised. He responded in English, saying that he didn’t speak Hindi much because he was from South India. He spoke better Chinese than Hindi.
After the walk, Libing took us to a street populated with many hip bars. He treated us to Chinese snacks and beer at one of them. We sat at an open bar facing the street; from there we saw young Chinese pulling in with their Maseratis, Porsche Spyders, and Ferraris. I was blown away by the wealth of these Kunming youngsters; afterall, Kunming is such a remote city in China … so I had thought. This visit to Kunming told me that they’ve modernized quite nicely. Although there is only one ancient street left in all of Kunming, the new ones are wide and organized; however, there is always a traffic jam due to the over abundance of cars on the road.
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