Tiger Leaping Gorgeous

The steep, Yangtze River-cut gorge is stunning--say, Ithaca's gorges
times ten. The site, famous for being (possibly? depending on the
source?) the longest and deepest gorge in the world, is more massive
than anything I've ever seen.

I negotiated a ride (280 RMB, too much in retrospect) for us that went
as far as Qiaotou, near the southwest entrance to the gorge and about
two hours from Lijiang. Because of rivalries between drivers in
Lijiang and Qiaotou (or something!), we had to switch to another van
for the 20 RMB final stretch to the gorge.

Armed with a couple of relatively abstract maps provided by
guesthouses, we trekked along the high path, with jagged snow-capped
mountains and the gorge to our right.

The trail is harsh, though, and the distance between guesthouses can
be a couple of hours--we're lucky we stopped for lunch right at the
entrance. The 28 Bends portion proved particularly grueling, twisting
uphill in the blazing sun. But I bonded with the other exhausted
hikers along the way (including one who was pregnant and made everyone
else feel wimpy), and our reward was a guest house (the Tea-Horse
Guest House) with a view like this.

The next day we hiked to the middle gorge—an easier walk, but
the downhill path was full of rocks and, at one point, cut by a
waterfall!

If you're going: Take your time and pack water (very few places to buy
bottles). We stored our bags in the guesthouse in Lijiang, packing
just our cameras, bathing suits, and a little clothing. (I wish I'd
packed flip-flops, something to read, and my flashlight.)

15 Months: The Good Life

I'm on the plane to America! (and normal internet access) as I write.

Last month, I celebrated my 30th birthday with 30 or so friends in Beijing. It was one of my best birthday's ever, ending at Chocolate, Beijing's craziest new Russian nightclub with a midget doorman, gold toilets, framed paintings on the ceiling, and a nightly show. I'm still sort of amazed that I pulled it off: Last year, if I hadn't had a friend visiting, I'm not sure what I'd done.

The weather has been weirdly beautiful—clear and HOT—to the point where I'm starting to get freaked out by how many nice days we've had in a row. Clouds and blue skies are NOT a normal occurrence in Beijing.

I have a long list of things to do this summer—and a lot of opportunities for work if I stick around. And this visit back to New York (for a friend's wedding) probably marks the first time that I'm thinking of the things I'll miss in Beijing while I'm away.

A friend said to me that he thought I was updating the blog less these days because I'm feeling more at home in China. That's partially true—I can't deny it. But I've also been having access problems so I have about a dozen things written that I haven't been able to post.

(Don't worry, though. Even if I ride out the financial crisis in Asia, there's NO WAY I could live in China forever.)

Today

Today is the 20th anniversary that event we're not supposed to talk
about. Some people are protesting by wearing white, the traditional
color of mourning in China. (When I walked around my neighborhood this
morning, a fair amount of the older people were wearing white shirts,
but it's also close to 100 degrees today, so it's hard to say how much
of it was intentional.) I don't think anything will--or could--happen,
based on talking to some experts for a story. Most people aren't that
agitated anymore, and those that are have either left the country or
are under house arrest right now.

Still, security is tight: Chinese and foreign websites are blocked,
the BBC is blacked out in some places, and there are extra cops
hanging around.

A few resources:

The China Beat has been running some retrospective pieces:
http://thechinabeat.blogspot.com/

There's an history lesson on Columbia University's website that I'm
not even going to bother looking up right now because it'll throw off
my Internet connection.

And my favorite Chinese writer wrote something for the Guardian:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/jun/02/tiananmen-square-protests-1989-china

Technical Difficulties

Blogger is suddenly blocked, making it challenging for me to post
anything. (And even when I do, it kind of looks like crap—see previous
post!).

I think it will get better after the big anniversary next week, but
otherwise, I'll post everything next time I'm out of China and look
for a better fix.

China's Venice

With narrow stone streets, red lanterns swaying overhead, and canals gushing through town, Lijiang (the ancient part at least) is what I think of when I imagine a classic Chinese city. Old women in their traditional outfits walk around selling fruit. The low buildings have carved-wood doors and roofs tipped up at the corners.

It's pricey and touristy, too, but if you walk away from the main strips, the charm is intoxicating. Wandering around up the hill, I found a Daoist temple perched over the city. The temple master gave me a reading (nothing too interesting: I'm very lucky, as are my parents, and I'll live for a long time), rang bells around my head, read my face and palm, gave me a cloth to stick under my pillow for good luck, etc., etc. It was kind of a scam (he asked for 200 RMB afterward, but I gave him a fraction of that), but I went with it because I wanted to see all of the traditions.

Another day, Holly and I went to see a 90-minute performance by the Naxi Orchestra, a group comprised of several 80-year-olds and younger players, who played traditional instruments and songs.

The Nature Conservancy runs a small museum in town. Everyone but me found it incredibly boring, but I liked the portion where they compared photos from the '20s (including some taken by Joseph Rock, the naturalist who lived in the region for 20-something years and wrote for National Geographic) with photos taken from the same spot recently to show changes to the environment.

If you're going: We bought bus tickets from travel agent in Dali's old town (45 RMB each). Our hotel, Wan Chun Yuan Guesthouse (70 RMB a night for a double, negotiated down from 80), was down a back alley, and—like most places in town—easy to find if you know where you're going but impossible to give directions to. It had a pretty courtyard with potted orchids and cackling caged birds that woke us up at the crack of dawn.

Back to Nature

Dali is charming enough, but the best parts are outside of town. Four of us rented bikes to zip around Er Hai ("Ear Lake") just outside of the city. We cut through soybean and rice fields, where farmers worked by hand and wound through narrow alleys of white buildings with black tile roofs and paintings on the walls—the white reminded me a little of the south of Spain.

We made it as far as the old city of Xizhou, but by then we were so worn out from the rock-hard rental-bike seats that I'm not sure we enjoyed the city and it's central food market enough.

The next day, we took cable cars up to the Higherland Inn, halfway up the mountain. The sprawling view of Er Hai and Dali from the cable car was somewhat marred by a loudspeaker blaring rules in Chinese and an instrumental version of Berlin's "Take my Breath Away."

According to their flier, the inn is a 10-minute hike or 150 meters up from the cable car, but learn from my pain: It is a long, steep walk (150 meters, as the crow flies, maybe, or maybe, as an American, I don't really understand what a meter is?!). Pack light or stash your backs back in Dali.

We shared the inn's family-style dinner (pumpkin soup, scrambled eggs and tomato, beef and tomatoes, some cold veggies) with other backpackers. The next morning we took an easy (flat) three-hour hike and stopped halfway to sun and swim in a waterfall, the Seven Dragon Maiden Pools.

Hello, Dali

Dali, in northwest Yunnan, feels like a stop on the backpacker circuit, a little bit of Thailand in China, with little cafes serving Western food and shops selling sarongs and colorful, shapeless dresses.

But despite that, we didn't see a lot of backpackers—just Chinese tourists. The town was lovely and sleepy, tucked into the mountains and filled with preserved old buildings. The coffee and chocolate pancakes were tempting, but I tried to sample some of the local dishes: fried goat cheese with ham and a thick greasy scallion pancake for breakfast; Bai-style dishes including hot and sour fish, white beans, potato pancake, and fried goat cheese with ham and vegetables for dinner at Bamboo Cafe.

After dinner, we went up the block to Bad Monkey to meet a friend of my friend in Beijing. An expat in Kunming recommended the bar, as well, and it seemed to be the only bustling place in old town. Inside, we found the most obscure and reprehensible minority of all: white boys with dreadlocks.

We had a flaming drink, split through three straws in honor of my "30 days to 30" birthday. My friend's friend explained that it's hard to get things done in Dali and the town's hippie vibe can get tiresome.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons: Marijuana, apparently, grows wild in the region. As you sit around cafes, old ladies in ethnic outfits pull silver bracelets, chopstick sets, and beaded necklaces, bargaining hard to unload the local crafts. After some hustling, they lean in and whisper, "You want the ganja?" "After dinner, you smoke!"

Getting There

"Lijiang!" "Dali!" "600 kuai!" "Where do you want to go?" I'm used to people swarming and trying to sell me rides, but when we approached the bus station in Kunming, the scene was out of control.

I negotiated a ride to Dali (about 5 hours away) for 100 kuai each. I thought we were going in a car, but we ended up stacked in a minibus. In front of me, a woman sat on a stranger's lap. Four people shared the back seat. Somehow, one of my friends (Lost Girl Holly) snagged the front passenger seat.

The driver played Kenny G and classical music as we cut through the mountains and small villages. We arrived safely, but still had to take a 40 kuai cab ride from where the bus let us out to our hostel in the old city.

The Friends Guesthouse, just outside the south wall of old town, was locked up when we arrived at midnight. They let us in, but the place was completely sleepy. The next day, we checked into Koreana Guesthouse, in the more lively center of town, but there was still no one hanging around the lobby and restaurant and the doors shut at midnight. (Rooms at both places were about 70 RMB a night for doubles, if I remember correctly.)