little trouble in big china

Lijiang is a town built around water. Numerous icy streams flow down from the nearby (and aforementioned) Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, and the town was designed so that every house would be next to a stream. The streams run between housing on one side and cobblestone sidewalks on the other (right), which now allows Lijiang to claim something like 500 bridges in a three square-mile radius. It's all very calming and, dare I say it, quaint.

Traditionally, there were sets of three adjoining pools set up around the city: the one furthest upstream was used for drinking water, the second for washing vegetables, and the third for washing clothes. Although the water is still relatively clear, the residents no longer consider it clean enough for drinking, and I'm not sure how much the rest of the system holds, either.

These days, the streams seem to be used mostly for keeping beverages cold.

I know, I know, it seems like this trip is taking forever. I'm sorry. At certain moments on the bus, I felt like that too. However, this is a two-part post, so I wanted to get the first part up sooner rather than later.

I am tickled to announce that since my most recent visitor wanted to sample some Shanghai nightlife, I can now say that I've been to a local Chinese (i.e., non-expat focused) "bar club lounge" (as advertised). Readers: which of the following did LT *not* see tonight at said establishment?

--a Chinese acrobat show
--a magician
--a panda
--a staggeringly drunk blonde
--dice games
--white guys with Asian women

Answer to follow coverage of the Yunnan trip. (I'm going, I'm going, I promise!)

From Dali we went north (map check, anyone?) to Lijiang, which turned out to be my favorite place on the tour. The city was mostly-wrecked by an earthquake in 1996 (7+ on the Richter), but two interesting things came about as a result: (1) the local government realized that the traditional Naxi buildings, which use no nails, fared much better than the more modern concrete ones, and so decided to encourage more construction in the old style, and (2) between the aid workers who came in to help rebuild and media coverage of the damage, a lot of people realized how beautiful the town and surrounding area are, and it became a big tourist destination.

(In case you're wondering whether the same thing will happen in Sichuan, it's unlikely. As I understand it, the town at the epicenter of May's disaster had very little to salvage, and any remaining residents had to be evacuated/moved anyway because of worries about one of the large lakes that had formed as a result of newly-dammed water. The government does, however, plan to turn the town into kind of a memorial to the earthquake victims, so it may yet have tourism, if not similarly joyfully scenic, value.)

Anyway, here's a scene from Lijiang's Jade Dragon Snow Mountain (Yulong Xueshan). This is about 100 yards from where the yaks hang out. Not bad, eh?

Not talking back. 

(First reader to admit they get the reference gets ... erm... I'll get back to you on that one.)

From Kunming, my group headed west to the old town of Dali, about five hours' drive, or just over 150 miles, west of the capital (and yes, that's by highway. I-5 it is not). Dali was the center of two different kingdoms (in succession, not as in Jerusalem) between the 8th and 13th centuries, until it was overrun by the Mongols. The city's main tourist attraction are the three pagodas shown below.

They form an isoceles triangle, with the front pagoda, at about 200 feet, the tallest as well as oldest, having been built in the early part of the 9th century; the other two followed sometime over the next hundred years.

They've been touched up here and there over the centuries, but are essentially the same structures they've been since their original construction. The same can't be said for the Buddhist temple that stands on the same grounds, which was destroyed during the Qing dynasty and only rebuilt in the last decade (below). In fact, there are few things in China that have managed to survive more than ten centuries of natural disasters, warfare, and the Cultural Revolution, so the Bai are justly proud of the pagodas' longevity, as it was local builders who were responsible for their construction.

The pagodas have been through enough over the years to make them less than completely stable these days -- one in particular has a noticeable tilt to it, and it's claimed that after one large earthquake, one of them actually split visibly, only to resettle back in place. At any rate, tourists are no longer allowed to go up them, but the view must be incredible -- those are the Cangshan Mountains at the back, whose streams run down into the town, and on the opposite side sits Erhai Lake, the seventh-biggest freshwater lake in China, according to my Lonely Planet.

Buddha, sitting in his reconstructed temple above the pagodas, has some good scenery.

This being China (or Asia in general, really), umbrellas come out rain or shine. This is especially true in Yunnan, where the altitude is high and the sun is strong.

This being China, there are also places to store your umbrella safely. Umbrella locks are conveniently provided at numerous hotels and restaurants. This makes perfect sense, and yet amuses me nonetheless.

This is how a lot of the men in Yunnan smoke their cigarettes. Yes, I mean cigarettes, and yes, maybe some women too, but I only saw men smoking.

It's a big water pipe, probably more like a bong than a hookah (only because my perception is that hookahs are slightly more complicated, and this looks pretty simple, but I really don't know). You can see this smoker holding the cigarette with his left hand. This was one of the smaller pipes I saw; one of the largest stood about waist-high, and the security guard smoking in it was sitting in a chair with it held in front of him, almost like a cello. I could only wonder whether he carries it with him every day, or just leaves it at work and has another at home.

There are some great reasons to join a tour, chief among them knowledgeable guides, someone to do all the work for you. One of the downsides is that you inevitably get dragged to some kind of tourist trap where you are enticed to spend money (from which the tour leaders usually draw a commission). Fair's fair, and it's usually not too terrible, but in Kunming we went to one place where I was definitely not spending any money:

The coffee store. This was actually the tour-group entrance to the flower market, and featured, in addition to glass windows where you could see coffee being ground and coffee-flavored cookies being made, all sorts of coffee products: coffee pancakes, coffee candy, banana/mango/durian coffee candy, and of course, all kinds of regular, chocolate, coconut, etc coffee. All of these are presented along a snaking, aisle-like path for which there are no alternate routes. You are the mouse, there is only one direction to go, one exit (the cash registers) through which to flee, and coffee is your cheese.

I hate coffee. I don't like the bitterness, I don't like the fuss over it, I'm sure I wouldn't be able to take the caffeine; I don't even like the smell. I was without a doubt the fastest rat through the maze that day.

I have to interrupt the travelogue sequence to mention this distressing development: the Olympics have brought cheerleading to China.

I had heard a while ago that the Olympics Committee was recruiting for cheerleaders, but I was blissfully ignorant as to just how seriously they were taking the task. When I left, it was a pretty low-level story. I return, and it's everywhere. Perhaps you have heard that the Patriots cheerleaders were brought over (were the Cowgirls offended not to be chosen, or would it have interfered with their reality-show commitments?) to give lessons. Now I have just turned on the television to find a cheerleading competition program, complete with university (and non-university -- professional?) outfits. As far as I can tell, apart from the university letters, the biggest difference is that the non-students wear these weird knee-to-ankle coverings, like legwarmers, but with the looser styling of pants. The area between the bottom of the skirt/short and the knee, however, is bare. Oh, and the non-students are in fact better practiced.

The really frightening part of this, though, is going to be the audience participation. In addition to no fewer than 207 official songs, there is an official Olympic cheer. Which, judging from the audience at the cheerleading competition show, every single Chinese citizen is going to be performing, in a spectacular display of movement in unison (I expect this to take on an especially surreal quality during synchronized swimming). This will be possible because (a) it's China, and they're used to things like that, and (b) it's just about the easiest cheer you could imagine (I refer you to the video). I recommend you learn it -- after all, you have almost 30 days, and then you too can feel like part of the crowd as you watch the events on TV!

Things I can say in Chinese:
"Foul."
"My eye hurts."
"It's fine."

Things I cannot say in Chinese:
"I got poked in the eye."