Upon returning to Lijiang after a relaxing few days at Lugu Lake, we met a bunch of fellow backpackers. Fortunately two of them wanted to do a day trip to Tiger Leaping Gorge. While most people do a two-day trek through the gorge, I injured my foot last week when I slipped on wet floor. Since then, it really hurts to even walk, so trekking for two days was out of the question. Although doing the trek was one of the things I’d really wanted to do in China, after today’s experience, I’m glad we just did the day trip.

road towards the gorge

I’m unsure of the significance of the gorge, its history, and how it became famous, but I just wanted to go because its supposed to be an incredible sight. I guess depending how measure, it could be considered the deepest gorge/canyon on Earth. We got a late start out of Lijiang because the Olympic torch came through this morning. We opted to sleep in rather than catch a glimpse of the flame, but our guesthouse transformed into a haven of torch frenzy as people came back from the morning’s relay. After millions of photos, our enigmatic and hyper guesthouse owner, MaMa (MaMa Naxi’s Guesthouse), arranged a van for the four of us. We headed out f town along streets lined with security. Literally lined- guards stood every 10 feet, perhaps 100 feet outside of town. For two hours out to the gorge, groups of soldiers stood every half kilometer or so. More amazing than the level of security for the torch was the sheer amount of people/soldiers utilized. Rather than pay attention to the soldiers, I was amazed by the scenery as we climbed up into the hills and mountains. Green hills and grey snow-capped mountains, valleys full of produce, and small stone villages.

After two hours, we turned off the main road towards the gorge. We drove along one side of the gorge on an unpaved road. Originally the lower trail that hikers took to explore the gorge, the government has blasted it into a road to capitalize on its tourism potential. We bumped along deeper and deeper into the gorge, passing dozens of rockslides and waterfalls onto the road. The scenery went from mountainous valley to surreal gorge in just a few minutes. Walls of rock thousands of feet high stretched from the muddy river into the deep blue sky. I think high altitude scenery is the best in the world and Yunnan province has been no exception: the blue skies, ultra white clouds, vibrant green grasses and shrubs, the clear waters, the distinct shadows of the clouds. It brought back faint memories of Ladakh and Nepal- I really do love the mountains. We stopped at one point to take photos, before driving a bit farther to a walkable path. At the turnoff, our driver gestured we could go down to the river. We descended down the steep stone steps. It was really steep and some parts had metal poles and chains embedded in the rock to assist hikers. Joylani and Alex stopped partway down, as the climb back up seemed like it would like ages. Ben and I continued down more until we came to a horizontal path. We walked it a bit, but decided against descending more when the path did. It was a really strenuous climb back up. Looking back, it wasn’t a particularly scenic walk. The best scenery was from high up on the road, as overgrowth blocked any views once we walked down into the gorge more. But it was interesting to look up and just see a strip of sky between two towering walls of stone.

Once back at the car, we began the long journey back to Lijiang. On the way back, I thought about how I was glad we only did a day trip. Yea, the two-day hike was one of the things I’d really wanted to do, mainly because so many people recommended it, but it wasn’t what I’d expected. It was beautiful and impressive, no doubt. But on the other hand, it would have been a two day hike of the same scenery. This wasn’t a mountain range or other dynamic landscape where the scenery would’ve constantly changed. And perhaps after Ladakh and Nepal, my standards are a bit unrealistic. Don’t get me wrong, it was an amazing sight. But I’m glad we opted for a short daytrip.

The most entertaining part of the day though was on the way back. At some point on the drive to the gorge, for some economic reasons beyond me, we switched vans and drivers. When we arrived back at the original van on the way back, we noticed the driver and his brother were out planting rice in the paddies. Seeing us arrive, they came over and began to wash off and get ready to drive us back. But then they asked, jokingly, if we wanted to plant rice instead. Well, Ben and Joylani actually took them up on their offer. So they took off their shoes, rolled up their pants, and waded into the paddy to plant! Alex and I were content with taking photos of them. Besides watching Joylani learning the different techniques to replanting rice, it was interesting to watch the other villagers. One old guy was driving a tractor around plowing a recently harvest field, while a group of old ladies planted nearby. Also funny was that most of the villagers were eating popsicles and ice-cream bars as they planted. Just not what I’d expected. Afterwards, Joylani and Ben washed off in a nearby stream, although I’m not sure how sanitary that was. Our driver also picked us a bag of strawberries and apricots to eat. The entertaining stop was a spontaneous and fun way to cap off our day.

When we returned we found Olympic spirit spread all over town.

We got back to Lijiang yesterday afternoon, ready for a full dose of Mama Naxi. After trudging through puddled streets as we tried to fit the two of us (plus our backpacks) under one very small umbrella, we arrived at Mama’s. She quickly ushered us to a room and told us dinner was at six.

I changed out of my soaked clothes and flopped onto the bed, happy to be down with the cramped van-ride and rainy finale of our journey back from Lugu Lake. I wasn’t so sure about Mama’s—the room was clean, but the walls very thin, and the shared bathroom rather smelly. But I knew one thing: Mama was one of a kind, and I was looking forward to seeing what this family-style dinner would be like. Six o’clock quickly rolled around and Matt and I headed downstairs for some much needed food. We sat a an empty table, but were soon joined by six other people.

Then food began to arrive. First a serving of rice to fill each of our bowls. Then a plate of fried pumpkin, followed by pork, chicken, lotus root, potatoes, beans, etc…one dish after another until all the empty spots on our table were filled. We dug in, passing plates back and forth, reaching across the table with chopsticks to grab a bite of this or that. It was delicious, especially after three nights of the same BBQ meal of questionable meats and veggies (the latter were ok I think). Nothing was very saucy, just fresh: some of it steamed, some of it fried, but nothing to oily or heavy. As all the guests finished up, Mama walked around, shouting (which seemed to actually just be normal for her) in a hoarse voice, “Money, Money!” and collecting 10RMB from each person for the meal. Not too bad considering the number of dishes and the prices at restaurants in this touristy (read: overpriced) part of town.

One of the guys at our table, Ben, was still a little hungry after dinner, so he ordered a burger. Mama (still wearing her purse) cooked it in a pan over a gas flame. Before eating it, Ben took the veggies off to the side. Seeing this, Mama came over, sat next to Ben and scolded him for not eating the veggies as she reached over, grabbed one off his plate and ate it herself.

The next morning as I took a shower, I heard a Greenday song playing—Mama’s ring-tone. Her voice carried all the way through the courtyard, into the bathroom where I could still hear her voice surprisingly clearly. That’s just Mama for you. As I ate a bowl of fruits and oatmeal in the courtyard, I watched in amusement as she cooked food, arranged transport, bossed the staff (and a few guests) around, and celebrated the Olympic torch—almost all simultaneously. A short while later she had arranged a ride for us plus a couple others to head up to Tiger Leaping Gorge for the day. “Let’s go! Let’s go!” she called to us all of a sudden, and we were quickly ushered out of the hostel compound towards a waiting cab. Upon our return later that evening, we were disappointed to learn there was no group dinner tonight. We ordered four BLTs instead. One of them came without veggies, cuz Mama knows what her guests like.

The past two days have been spent at beautiful Lugu Lake. It was long and windy eight hour bus ride from Kunming, but the scenery was spectacular. Our bus snaked north through the mountains, ascending from Lijiangs 1800 meters to Lugu’s 2700. Besides the usual food, toilet, roadwork breaks, we stopped just short of our destination for a canoe ride. We had already arrived at the lake and were just minutes from the village we were headed to, but I think the bus driver got some sort of commission. Despite that, our entire bus emptied and boarded two hollowed out logs. The local boatmen (boys) rowed us about a half-hour to an island in the middle of the lake. The incredibly still and smooth, creating awesome reflections of the mountains and clouds in the dark blue water. The island was small, but supported a small Tibetan monastery nonetheless. I assume food is boated in regularly. It was nice little ride with some nice scenery, but I could have done without the ride.

a nice view on the ride to Lugu

canoe ride on the glassy lake

I made a lot of interesting observations even before we reached our final destination though. As we drove further and further into the mountains, farther from development and into remoteness, things began to change. One, litter began to increase all along the roadside. The small villages we passed through were worlds away from Kunming and touristy Lijiang. It was interesting to see poverty in China for the first time. The miserable road-building camps and all. But it wasn’t all bad, not even mostly. Yunnan is supposedly the most diverse state and as we drove, Han Chinese gradually thinned out to nil. We were headed into Mosu land, a Chinese minority group. Faces darker, some could’ve passed for South Indian or Black. The women wore these huge hats, which resembled oversize graduation caps. But perhaps most interesting were the signs describing the customs of the local people. The Mosu are a matriarchal society, supposedly one of the last practicing ones in the world. The women can take on multiple lovers and control all property, even the children. Apparently Chinese tourists like the multiple lover thing, because I read that prostitution has become a problem in the area. Anyways, we ended up in the village of Lige.

cobalt skies at Lake Lugu

Our guidebook described Lige as a sleepy little place with a single guesthouse. When we arrived though, there were probably a dozen new guesthouses/hotels with another dozen still being built. The sudden increase in capacity made it easy for us to find a cheap room, at a Hostelling International place. We actually bought a membership card in Lijiang and it should pay for itself pretty soon. But I’m becoming a fan of Hostelling International affiliated places in China, because they have English speaking staff and good quality rooms, travel services, and free internet. Back to Lige, there’s not a whole lot. For every breakfast and dinner, we went to the same restaurant (one of only a handful in Lige). It was just simple family-run place constructed out of wooden planks, but it was always busy with Chinese tourists. The specialty in Lige are tables with BBQs in the middle. You order the food, they bring it, and you grill it. Our first night, we got some zucchini, eggplant, and what I thought was bacon. Well, it was sort of bacon, but mostly it was just cubes of white jelly stuff. Then I remembered something I’d read, grilled pig fat is a local specialty. It was too late to change our order, so I chowed down on the local fare. With the provided seasoning it actually wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t good enough to ever order again though, too.

The next two days were pretty lethargic. We took a scenic hike up into the hills on our first morning. The vistas were amazing. The deep blue sky only found at altitude, bright greens of the crops and forest, and the stillest lake I’ve ever seen. Besides that, we didn’t do anything of note for two days. We walked along the lakeside quite a few times, talked a lot, read, wrote. The second day was some sort of holiday, so we saw people wearing grass ornaments on their heads, burning offerings in little white stupas, and the women gathered together to hang out in the afternoon. We did a lot of thinking and talking about the future: our visit home this summer, our itinerary after that, and our plans for reentry in 2009. I guess if you’re gonna do nothing, Lige isn’t a bad place to come. It could’ve been really boring, but it was good retreat from our travels of late. It was scenic and all the local people were unbelievably friendly.

First I heard the screams, then I looked out the window from our hotel and saw the people at the restaurant next door (where we’ve been eating) slitting the throat of a young pig. Dinner I guess. At least I know the meat is fresh, but I had no idea it took that long for a pig to die. Yuck. As I write this a little flock of chickens has waddled up around my table. Tomorrow’s dinner?

Lige is an interesting little place. It took us about 7 hours to get here (longer if you count the boat ride and the stop where our driver fixed the bus by rigging up a string attached to the fuel injector…or something…that he seemed to be pulling each time we accelerated). It’s kind of in the middle of no where—just a small village on Lugu Lake up on the border of Yunnan and Sichuan provinces. I look out from the porch where I am sitting. Just across the dirt road is a garden of vegetables. Rows of corn are growing in the section in front of me. A hedge of duck weeds grows just past that, to help filter out the run off before it reaches the lake, I suppose.

The lake is large, the third largest in China I hear, and calm. There is hardly a breeze, and only slight ripples on the otherwise glassy surface. I want to go water skiing, except that it would ruin the environment and tranquility, and, anyways, I have yet to see a motor powered boat since we arrived. Locals get around the lake in wooden canoes, “pig trough” is the English translation for what they are called. We took one yesterday to a monastery that sits on top of a little one-hill island. The oars are heavy and the canoes are slow. This morning Matt and I saw a few men and a young boy load a boat with some firewood, boxes, and a live chicken before rowing out towards the little island. Perhaps they were taking supplies for the monks.

The lake is flanked by mountains the whole way around. And the mountains are crowned in fluffy white clouds—the kind of clouds Matt says are always around high mountains like this. The sky looks extra blue. Perhaps it is something with the altitude, or maybe it is just because we are away from smog and it’s too warm and dry for a misty haze, or maybe it’s a combination of the two. Either way, it is beautiful.

But it’s interesting here because “here” is seemingly in the middle of nowhere, but Lige has been recently developed into a little tourist village. It has become somewhere. There are a couple dozen two-story hotels and buildings, all built in the same log-cabin style. It’s nothing tacky, but unexpected as we thought going up to the mountains would mean accommodation would be more basic. But there’s wifi in our room, 24 hour electricity, electric blankets, and cell phones get reception (not that we have one though). A stone path has been built along the shore of the lake, complete with trash bins and path lights, some disguised to look like stones. Most of the visitors are domestic; so far we’ve only come across one small group of western tourists. Luckily for us, a few people speak a little bit of English. This definitely isn’t the rustic village we thought we’d be visiting, but it is nice all the same. Well, maybe not the same, but it is still nice. Despite the development, and the squealing pig, Lige remains a peaceful and beautiful getaway.

The bus ride yesterday was anxiety-filled as I was a bit panicked about us actually making it to our desired destination. But, as usual, things ended up just right. The end of the ride was nice as the road went from bumpy to paved, and pine tree and wildflowers (rhododendrons and cheery yellow daffodil types) lined the sides of the road. After checking into a room at one of the hostels, Matt and I went for a walk to check Lige out.

It was dinner time, and several restaurants had little BBQ tables smoking away outside as other tourists cooked their dinner. We decided to eat the BBQ as well. Picking the restaurant next to our hostel, we motioned for a table and pointed to what we wanted (eggplant, zucchini, and something that resembled bacon). Soon we had our own little table with smoking coals. One of the staff basted a large eggplant with oil and placed it on our grill.

Then she threw on a couple slabs of the “bacon” which was actually pork fat, and not quite as meaty as we expected. “I’ll let that simmer for a while,” I thought to myself. A bowl of sliced zucchini arrived. The girl pointed to our pot of oil and motioned for me to brush some on before tossing the veggies on the girl. A few minutes later someone else came over to make sure we were grilling the food properly. We got on a roll with basting and flipping, you know, the whole-grilling shebang. It was fairly tasty, and by that I mean the zucchini. The pig fat was, well, crispy pig fat. But it was alright. (At least it had to be fresher than the shrimps we saw on the counter. We wondered how far and in what conditions those shrimp endured to get to Lugu Lake.)
The veggies were soon eaten, and it was time to conquer the eggplant. Armed with a pair of wooden chopsticks, I did the only thing I could figure to do, and tore the skin open. It was soft and steamy inside. I managed to grasp a little bit with my chopsticks, but before going any further, one of the staff showed up at our table to show us the correct way to prepare it before eating. He sliced the skin lengthwise and opened it up. Pulling out a short knife, he ran through the inside to slice it up a little, taking care not to cut through the skin. Someone brought a bowl of sauce which was liberally spooned on the eggplant. Then he took the knife, scraped the skin and stirred it up making a sort of stingy pile of mush. But it was delicious. The sauce was composed of tomatoes, cilantro, garlic, and some other stuff, I’m not sure what, except that it was good.

(this is actually a pic from the next day, when we had lamb in lieu of pig fat…)

From Kunming we took a night bus to Lijiang. It was an okay ride, but the guys behind us had smelly feet and the old-school Jackie Chan flick didn’t have English subtitles. We arrived in a dark and drizzly Lijiang at 5am. We got a cab and showed him a card from the guesthouse we wanted to go to. After driving to the edge of the old town (its pedestrians only inside), calling the number on the card, and talking to a woman for a bit, he indicated the hotel was full. After some gesturing on both our parts, he drove us around to another entrance to the old town and showed us to a very pricey hotel (over 100 USD!). We didn’t stay at his overpriced recommendation, but instead walked a block and found a more reasonable option, although still more than we usually pay. But it was dark, raining, and most guesthouses weren’t even open yet. And on the plus side, at least our more expensive room was worth it, as it was pretty nice. (Later we did find the original guesthouse we wanted to go to and the lady there said she got the call that morning and tried to explain to the cab driver how to get there, but that he was uncooperative. She said he was probably a dishonest cabbie who scammed us)

After sleeping a little bit, we went out to explore Lijiang. Lijiang is actually split into two parts, old town and new town. Old town is the main attraction, although its not really old. In 1996, an earthquake leveled the city. In an effort to increase tourism, the government standardized the architecture used in the old town and barred any concrete buildings. So the ancient looking town is really a brand new town rebuilt in an older looking style. One fellow traveler told me that the Chinese don’t like anything old. But they’re fine to build new things that look old. Anyways, genuine or not, the old town is a relaxing little place. There’s no cars on the cobblestone thoroughfares and alleyways. And although its touristy, I haven’t seen barely any westerners- the town is full of Chinese tourists (who are quite interesting to watch themselves). So although a touristy little place, barely anyone speaks English. It seems that the only people that speak English are a few of the more educated Chinese tourists (who have helped us at quite a few restaurants). The lack of English is one reason why we switched from our first hotel (not a word of English) to the International Youth Hostel, for our second night. So far, China has really shown me how much I take English for granted. Without a common language, simple tasks like ordering food, asking/negotiating prices, and getting directions is inordinately difficult, not to mention finding onward travel and other esoteric discussions.

It rained on and off for much of our first day here, so we didn’t do too much. We found a little family-run café that offered local-priced breakfast (porridge and dumplings). Other than eating and looking for a new hotel, day one was pretty mellow. But today was clear blue skies, so we took a couple walks up nearby hills. They afforded really nice views over the old town and surrounding mountains. Overall, Lijiang has enhanced my initial observations about China: its mellow and nice, but no English. From what I’ve heard, Yunnan is totally unlike the rest of China, but its been a nice place to begin our time in China, since we’re still adjusting.

Dancers in the old town square

Oh dear. We arrived at Lijiang in the very wee hours of the morning. It was still very dark out. Instead of sleeping a little longer on the bus like the other passengers seemed to be doing, we sluggishly dragged our bags off and found a cab. The driver nodded when we showed him the card to the hostel we wished to go to, and off we went. Apparently he didn’t actually know what he was talking about. So he called the number on the card, presumably to ask directions. Hanging up, he told us that the place was full. After some confusing signaling (was the driver asking us if we wanted to sleep at his place?) and pointing to the address of another hostel he started to drive again. (Did I mention the car heater was on? I can’t remember the last time I was in a car with a heater.) We seemed to do a loop around the Old Town when we turned down one of the cobbled streets. The driver got out. Was he looking for the address? Oh no, he was just looking for a REALLY expensive hotel where he kindly suggested we spend the night. Yeh right. #1 paying that much for a room in such a place was ridiculous, #2 I am paying the driver for the ride, not a commission on a hotel room. We gave the driver some kuai and sent him on his way. I had seen a little hotel just up the road from where the driver had dropped us off, so we headed in that direction. The staff didn’t speak English, and we can barely utter a couple of words of Chinese, but somehow we (thankfully) were able to get a room. Instead of having us register right away, the grandma who appeared to be running the show motioned for us to shower and sleep. Grateful for her hospitality and understanding of the plight of a weary traveler, I didn’t argue with her suggestion. The temperature in Lijiang is definitely colder than anywhere we have been in months, and the steaming hot shower followed by a quick jump into the electric-blanket heated bed was the perfect remedy to the cold morning.

Lijiang is just so cute (albeit in a recently-recreated way), I just wanted to put up a few more pics so you could see what its like wandering down the cobblestone alleys.

Our overnight bus to Kunming arrived early yesterday morning. Still dark out and not knowing any Chinese, we were lucky to be traveling with Caitlin and Philip who knew enough Chinese to arrange a cab to a hostel. The Hump Hostel (named after the Allied trans-Himalayan flights of WWII that landed in Kunming) came highly recommended by Matt, who we met way back in Goa. And it was really nice. It was near the center of town, and on the third floor, it overlooked Jinmabiji Square. It had all sorts of traveler-oriented services, including a few I hadn’t expected in a hostel: 24-hour hot water, wifi, and private rooms. We were initially worried because we had read that China’s accommodation was pretty expensive and hostels were the main budget option. But it turns out that hostels include private rooms too. And the hostel surpassed my expectations, given what I’ve heard from a few other travelers. Many more of my expectations were surpassed after two days of exploring Kunming.

Kunming really impressed both of us. Although it’s a smaller city, with just one million inhabitants, its far bigger and more developed than any other Asian city of one million people that I’ve seen. At first I couldn’t comprehend how such a small population could support such a city. Tall buildings, wide streets with barely any traffic, its clean, and even had multiple supermarkets. What a contrast to the numerous Indian towns of one million, or Kathmandu with just under a million people, or capitols with well over a million like Phnom Penh and Hanoi. The level of development was really astounding to me. Although its usually discussed in a third world context, China is the most developed “third world” country I’ve ever seen. At least Kunming. It has none of the characteristics of a third-world city: traffic, noise, pollution, ugly architecture, litter, tons of scammers and touts. Besides the tall buildings and cleanness of the city, the first thing I noticed was the quietness of the city. At first, the city seemed eerily quiet and I couldn’t figure out why. But it was the absence of the literally millions of motorbikes honking that we’d grown accustomed to in Vietnam. The streets were filled with quiet cars and electric (!) scooters, rather than noisy and polluting motorbikes. It was also quieter because we didn’t have a dozen people a minute tugging on our arms and saying, “Hello, yes looking.” Goodbye SEA. Chinese people seem quiet polite and educated in the sense that they’re not chasing foreigners around trying to make money. On the other hand, in two days we’ve barely met anyone that speaks English. For the first time in the past year, we’re in a place where even basic English isn’t understood, much less understood. No numbers, no basic nouns, nothing. In that way, the past two days have been difficult, as we’ve pointed and gestured our way through stores and restaurants. But on the other hand, people have been extremely kind and helpful. A couple people have gone really far out of their way to help us. It got me thinking perhaps it’s the Chinese influence that makes Malaysia such a warm and hospitable place. And coming from Vietnam, China seems even more kind and friendly. The last thing I really noticed was how clean Kunming is. Unlike most of Asia, China has public trash bins! Even more amazing is the presence of recycle bins everywhere too! I noticed there’s still a lot of people that are too lazy to walk to the trash cans and just litter (a worldwide affliction, I feel), but China has hordes of street cleaners. We saw dozens of orange-vested crews sweeping the streets and sidewalks, as well as collecting trash.

Kunming itself doesn’t really have any sites, beyond a couple of restored historic buildings devoid of any character. But it was a very interesting two days as it was our first experience in China. Simply strolling around the city or sitting to people watch was both enlightening and educational. Initial impressions (surprises) of China: clean, developed, no English.

…I saw ladies pounding frozen chickens over an open tray of ice (picture a fruit table only instead of fruit there are lots of chickens on a bed of ice)

And, uh, where is the cereal aisle?

Picture of some of our first impressions of China.

Matt and I set off this afternoon in search of a bus ticket to Lijiang, our next stop. As we neared the area of the bus station, a few people approached us, saying something in Chinese. Upon seeing business cards with bus pictures on them, we figured these people were working for the various bus companies. A man in an orange corduroy sports coat and cowboy hat got our attention and led us into a lot filled with buses. We assumed this would be where we could buy a ticket, but were still a little confused as to where. And we weren’t sure about who this guy in the orange coat was, was he going to [try to] rip us off? Would we get charged a hefty commission for his service? We hoped not, since that was the reason we had come down to the station to buy a ticket instead of just buying one (with commission) at our hostel. The man in the orange coat spoke with another man sitting next to one of the buses. The second man asked us about what ticket we needed—in English. Relieved to be able to communicate in words, we told him what we needed. Then, instead of giving directions to the ticket office, the man motioned for us to follow him. He led us out of the lot, to the corner, across the street, and into the ticket office where he helped us to purchase the correct tickets. And then he gave us a card and wrote down his mobile number, in case we needed help tomorrow he said. We said thank you and goodbye. As the man walked away, Matt and I marveled at what had just happened, smiling in gratitude for this little act of helpful kindness that had just made our buying a ticket so much easier. What a difference from our past month of experiences.