Shangri-La. Seriously.

It was a great busride. Swirling up the sides of towering mountains that overlooked roads that we had been on only moments before. Upon reaching the highest visible point, like magic, everything leveled off and flatlands spread out before me. No more mountains, just rolling hills and fields. It was this sudden change that came with the new altitude. Also, the Naxi architecture was replaced by this distinctly Tibetan aesthetic. Chortens draped in prayer flags, short, wide, trapezoidal houses, yellow crops. You'd think it was thousands of miles from the landscape we were driving through only minutes earlier.

The sun went down as the bus approached the urban fringes of Shangri-La. Lit expressways deposited the bus into the city and before long, I was alone on the side of the road, trying to get my bearings. None of the street names were on my map, so I figured I must be on the edges of town. "Time to play this game again" I thought. Walked forever.

My map was very poor and there seemed to be no end in sight. I was exhausted as you can imagine. Remember, this was the evening of the day I did my brutal gorge trek. When I surrendered and took a cab, the driver was completely useless and couldn't even recognize the map of the town he made a living navigating. I actually had to point him in the direction I wanted to go and have him drive, figuring things out as we went along. Where the guesthouse was supposed to be, there was only a black space. I moaned in frustration, ditched the baffled driver and tried to find someone else who maybe could help me.

All the street names had changed since the publication of my map, I learned. Kevin's guesthouse was what I wanted, but where was it? It wasn't closed down because Sanjay and Mark had just stayed there only days earlier. I found Kevin's Bar, which was annoying because I did not need any false finish lines in my tired, breathless state. Some locals spotted my frustration and pointed me down a dark alley. I was apprehensive. Did they even know what I was looking for? Were they going to rob me? I peered into the darkness and caught a faint sign: Kevin's Guesthouse. Holy effing crap what a godawful place for a sign. Could they not have stuck a sandwich board or something somewhere even close to the main road? I thanked the strangers with the last drop of my politeness I could squeeze out of myself at that moment and walked towards Kevin's.

I was wheezing when I got in at around 10:30-ish. The owners were so unbelievably friendly, my mood instantly recovered. I got a dorm bed, puddled around on the computer for a bit then got some sleep.

Now about the town of Shangri-La. When you hear the name, you ask "really?", and the only answer I can give is "maybe". The words "Shangri-La" first appeared in the novel Lost Horizon by James Hilton, as the name of a fictional south-western Chinese town poised high up in the mountains. Well, the Chinese tourism authorities took notice of this and renamed the town originally known as Zhongdian. A heavy facelift followed, then an airport and inevitably, throngs of tourists. The star attraction, a dazzling Tibetan old quarter, ripe with chortens, monasteries and culture, all accessible without the hassle of having to get the permits to actually enter Tibet. You see, Shangri-La lies right on the border, still technically in Yunnan province. For many, it is the only taste of Tibet they can have. So really, the name is only part of the attraction.

I awoke at a responsible time. It was very cold. At an altitude of about 3100 meters above sea level, the town is perpetually chilly. My wardrobe of shorts and t-shirts was not going to cut it, so my first order of business was buying a sweater. I explored the old town next. Much much more different than Lijiang. Everything screamed Tibet. Prayer flags draped overhead, yak skins sold in shops, old men and women in nomadic attire. The sky was mottled with clouds, but the parts that poked through were a striking blue.

I came across a temple atop a hill in the center of town. The stairs were a rough climb due to the altitude, but up top it was a pleasant view. Many other Chinese tourists walked about. It's highlight was a massive revolving chorten that took the strength of about seven or eight men to get started. When it got going, it was a sight to behold. 20 meters tall, all gold and strikingly ornate. Everyone had a good time with it.

Back in old town, I grabbed some barbecue in the town square. Skewers of meat, vegetables and miscellanea, all cooked and seasoned over a specialized charcoal grill. Cheap and damn tasty. I tried yak meat for the first time. A little tough, but not bad overall.

There was a monastery on a hill that was visible from every part of town, so naturally I made my first order of business finding a way up there. My first attempt led me down some narrow alleyways in the wrong direction. Chained dogs were throwing fits, lunging at me with futility. Around one corner, a dog darted out of a dilapidated shack towards me bearing teeth, it's chain stopping it only a few feet short. I almost had a heart attack. I decided to try another route after that.

Eventually I made it up and took in the view. I could see the surrounding mountains looming over the town. On the other side of the hill, flatlands with the faint and distant shapes of horsemen galloping across. Yellow fields. Prayer flags flapped audibly in the breeze. Beside a pavilion, someone had fashioned a bunch of them into a colourful tent. I took a rest inside. The monastery itself looked more like someone's house, and I didn't feel like barging in (it was dinnertime after all), so I headed back down the hill.

That evening, I went to a soccer bar to watch the World Cup and eat. Aside from trying cold yak meat and yak yogurt, nothing happened.

Now originally, I had a pretty ambitious plan for getting to Chengdu, my next destination. A three to four day journey through rugged mountains. Xiangcheng, Litang, Kangding then Chengdu. I didn't want to backtrack, but my guesthouse mum informed me of a sleeper bus to Jinjiang in southern Sichuan province, where I could then grab a train north to Chengdu, all in half the time for half the cost. Sold. I got a ticket for 7pm the next day.

I didn't do much until then. Read and wrote. There was a big monastery north of town, but the admission price was around $20, so I stopped short at the gates figuring I'd see much bigger and better monasteries when I actually got into Tibet. The weather was crap too.

When I boarded the bus, I made myself very comfortable. I had no idea how long the trip would be, but I knew I wouldn't hit Jinjiang until the morning. The sleeper bus was only the beginning too. My only concern was whether or not I would get any sleep, and I wish I could say it didn't take long for that to happen.

If you were wondering what the hell a chorten was this whole time, it's this.

This is the old town. I have a similar pic taken in Lijiang and I chock that up to the fact that there are so many old men on bicycles in China, it's like one big deja vu after another.

The stairs leading up to the temple. Yeah, with the altitude, even this was a grind.

Shangri-La from on high.

Here's the awesome spinney chorten. You have to spin it clockwise or else it's BLASPHEMY!

Street BBQ. Goddamn this stuff was good.

The view from the monastery high above the city. The flag tent and pavilion are on the left.

The flag tent from the inside. It was a windy day too.

Not sure who these tree trunks are, but if I missed the opportunity to see a Tibetan Medieval Times, I will be seriously pissed.

Tiger Leaping Gorge and how it almost killed me

So I wasn't on the bus for very long. Only two hours. I got dumped off in a squat little village in the mountains and deduced that it must be Qiaotou, the jump-off point for those looking to trek Tiger Leaping Gorge.

Now, since Adam and I parted ways, I had only been doing mild treks. However, upon reading how utterly jaw-dropping and mandatory this trek was, I decided to pull out the old North Faces for maybe one last go. The whole gorge is about 28 kilometers long, 2 kilometers wide and, get ready for this, an astounding 4 kilometers from the Yangtze River below to the peaks of the Haba Shan mountains above. And because it's a gorge, most of that 4 kilometers is sheer cliff. Ever come face to face with anything that goes 4 kilometers straight up? I was about to.

I didn't intend to start the trek that day. I was ill-prepared. No food, no water, no backpack even. And I wasn't gonna lug the big bad boy with me. So I settled at a place called Jane's which perhaps had the worst service of any guesthouse I'd encountered thus far. Let's put the ills of this place in list form:

- The employees were lazy, curt, unwelcoming and completely incompetent.
- The could not grasp the concept of me leaving my passport with them rather than in my dorm room. When they did take it, they just stuffed it in a drawer beside the TV.
- They occupied the TV and computer that was reserved for guests and refused to relinquish control when asked.
- One employee fought with her drunk, shirtless boyfriend while guests were trying to get her attention to order food.

So really, the biggest problem was the crap staff. What a lousy place! They already had my passport and my money so there was no changing. At least the dorm room was empty.

So I set out about the town to do some shopping. I needed the previously mentioned items plus a towel (forgotten in Lijiang) and of course, a new alarm clock. There's no way my body would wake up for a 7am hike unassisted. Everything but the clock was relatively easy to find. All the shops were mom and pop knickknack joints so it was just a matter of stumbling upon one that had what I was looking for. I had a good pantomime for clock that was understood by all. I passed up big, clunky, plastic dealies decorated with Hello Kitty and Doraemon before finding a classic windup. With the shopping done, I killed hours.

At about 6pm, the French couple that probably stole my alarm clock rolled into the guesthouse. They didn't chose the dorm thankfully. Probably cause I was in it and they needed to use their new alarm clock.

7am I awoke. Did the place have hot water? Of course not, so a screaming shower it was. None of the staff was awake, which was annoying because I needed to store my big backpack and retrieve my passport. Like, you'd think if you were running a guesthouse for hikers, you ought to be up at the ass-crack of dawn with everyone else. I screamed "hello" about nine times, each time successively louder , until one of the employees frumped out with a look like I had committed upon her a grave injustice. Lazy witch. I hated that I had to return to this glower shack the next day, even for a moment, to get my stuff before moving on. It was past 8, so I left without ordering breakfast.

And so I began the hike. It actually took a good hour of navigating hillside farms and ascending dirt roads before reaching the official entrance to the gorge. About 100 meters down, I could see where the river that flowed through town met with the Yangtze and continued onwards through the gorge. There were two roads; the low road, which was paved and ran through the gorge alongside the Yangtze, and the high road, which was anywhere from 100 to 500 meters up the side of the cliff and provided a much more satisfying experience. I chose high of course. the low road was undergoing construction anyways to make it more tourist-friendly. Glad I got there when I did.

At first the views were merely excellent. The path was literally a brief, flat divot chiseled out of the steep steep mountainside. It was cloudy, but had it been sunny, I would have just cooked like a Christmas goose, so thank goodness for the clouds. Mist rose and swirled quickly about everywhere, obscuring the tops of mountains leaving me only to guess the extent of their majesty. The river was audible below and would occasionally let out a thunderous boom. Dynamite from the construction I deduced.

I was moving briskly, stopping only to take photos. It was cool weather, but I removed my jacket occasionally. Dark clouds above were threatening with rain.

The first tea-house rest stop I encountered was so nice, I wished I could've stayed the night. It was about two hours in. Naxi Guesthouse. The sign outside advertised "home-goored meals" which is probably the most interesting typo I've encountered in China thus far. I finally got to eat the breakfast that those sows back at Jane's were to lazy to make me. Off again.

The next 3 hour stretch was hell. Called the 23 bends, the trail zigzagged steeply up the mountain for an hour, making damn sure I was aware of the punishment that I signed up for. And remember that this all took place at over 2000 meters above sea level, so the lack of oxygen certainly compounded things. It was horrible. Going up and never stopping, zigzagging, making no progress along the gorge. At the top I splayed out on a rock and wheezed.

From there, it was a slow descent, but the mist began to clear up revealing the full height of the mountains. They were much higher than I predicted, and the wall completely filled my peripheral vision. Completely unreal.

The next tea house was also quite nice. They had soju on the menu which I found puzzling. I continued along passing through hillside villages that seemed to be untouched by time. Horsemen walked along the trails with their surprisingly nimble horses. And you can bet that there were plenty of goats grazing. Tons and tons of goats, perfectly complementing the surroundings.

At around 2, I hit the Halfway Lodge (actually about three quarters of the way in) and decided to stay there for the night. I could've completed the gorge, but by then, my dogs were barking, plus it seemed to be a nice looking place. I got a dorm and it was empty, but I knew it wouldn't stay that way. I immediately flopped down for a nap.

When I awoke, the thieving French couple were checking in. Ugh. Of all the people to constantly be encountering. They gave me an uneasy hello. I produced my new alarm clock.

The view from the guesthouse could not have been better. Right on the edge of the hill facing the giant wall. Even the bathrooms provided splendid panoramas while you peed. I went up to the "inspiration deck" for dinner and more people trickled in. Among them were Patrick and Jessica from back in Kunming. We spent the evening talking and swapping stories. Two other Irishmen joined in later and between them and Patrick, I'll be damned if I understood anything being said. Called it at around 11:30. Had to do the same hike in reverse the next day.

At about 3am I awoke with a stomach crisis. This had me running to the bathroom every 20 minutes for about three hours, being sick as all hell. Don't know what caused it. Food poisoning? Who knows. My medicine was back at Jane's so I had to ride it out with nothing but water. The dorm was full of slumberers too, and you can bet that the door was as loud and creaky as they come. Bad night. Didn't sleep again until around 6.

I awoke at 10, weak, tired and dehydrated. It was going to be a very bad hike. The sun peeked out too to add a bit of extra, albeit unwelcome, challenge. Oh god, hold breakfast down and maybe it won't be so bad, I thought. It was. My legs were taffy and the ascents were nearly crippling. The tea houses seemed so far apart and I took breaks almost every ten minutes. Held it together though, despite the pain and suffering, and kept moving on.

I reached the exit, which was good, but I still had an hour more until I got to Jane's. My feet, knees and legs were screaming. Lactic acid formed. My altitude-affected breaths came in gasps. Every bend I rounded was never the last. Past filthy construction sites, not even great scenery anymore. My body pleaded "NO MORE!". Finally I plopped down on the doorstep of Jane's.

I can count on one hand the other times in my life I have ever been that exhausted. I could not move. Then, all of a sudden, everything I held back during the hike, the nausea, the dizziness, all came rushing back and I gunned it for the bathroom. Filthy bathroom too. I stayed there for an hour doubled over in anguish, moaning with puke sweats rolling down my face. I clutched my stomach. It was 5:30 and the bus I intended to catch, the last one of the day, arrived at 7. This sense of urgency collided with my corporal state and added new layers of stress. Oh my god, make it stop, I thought. I did not want to spend another night with Jane's gang of misanthropes.

Soon my sickness subsided enough for me to leave the bathroom. It was 6:00. I couldn't make it. My stomach would not tolerate winding mountain roads, so I surrendered and grabbed a bunk for the night. I dozed off expectedly.

Then something magical happened. I awoke at 6:45 imbued with energy. I hadn't paid for the dorm yet, so I decided to try for that 7:00 bus. Sure I slept in the bed, but Jane's could kiss my ass at that point, so I bolted out, crossed the river and waited on the side of the road. Soon enough a bus stopped and picked me up. 7:00 bound for Shangri-La. I had made it. Three hours to get there and my stomach was doing fine. Happy ending after all.

These guys only knew one word of English: "Horse?"

The little labourers' town of Qiaotou, gateway to the gorge.

I definitely needed a home-goored meal.

Mountain goats roamed the hillsides. They were pretty cautious.

Every square inch of trail had an amazing view of the gorge.

Jon Leaping Gorge aka perhaps the most epic jump shot of the whole trip.

When the mist surrounding the mountaintops cleared, I realized that they were twice as tall as I expected.

Here's a video I took in an attempt to convey the majesty of TLG.

Lijiang

I was excited for Lijiang because I would be meeting my buddy Sanjay there. For those of you unfamiliar, Sanjay and I were coworkers in Korea for a good 6 months and together with two others, Colin and Matt, the four of us formed a close-knit group that witnessed each others' highest and lowest moments. We were solid, and seeing Sanjay again would be a fleeting glimpse back into the stable life I once had as well as a great chance to see my bud and look back fondly on old times. He had just finished his ECC contract and started traveling China with his friend Mark, starting in Beijing. They were on their way south while I was headed north, so Lijiang worked out to be the meeting point.

I had a day to kill beforehand though, so I figured Lijiang would be a good place to pull up a chair and get comfortable in.

After a gorgeous bus ride, I was dropped off at a station in the middle of who-knows-where. China at it again. Getting a taxi would've been futile because, unlike any other place in the world, Chinese taxis never seem to have any idea where they are and where the hell you want to go. Many a times I would show up, open a map and point only to have them make a puzzled sound before sending me off. Even in a place like Lijiang, you'd at least THINK the tourist with the huge backpack would want to go to the tourist district, but this simple grain of logic is never, ever considered. So I had to take a walk.

A wise-looking man was able to read the map and pointed me the right way. After a few kilometers, I was in old town. Like Dali, but much much nicer. Narrow, winding streets with beautiful and ornate Naxi architecture. Cobblestone streets went up and down occasionally crossing one of the many streams that flowed through town. A giant waterwheel here, a busy town square there. And it was huge too! I walked forever before reaching my guesthouse.

The place was nice and I landed a dorm bed. Since coming to China, it's been all dorms. Has to be, as they are always a sixth of the price of a room. And there's always the chance of landing an empty one, which, at that point, is just as good as a room. For the second time in a row, this happened. I checked the net and got an email from Sanjay saying he booked a place at the exact same guesthouse. Things in Lijiang were shaping up beautifully.

That evening, I saved the new town walkaround and settled at a cozy place for dinner. The sky dimmed and a nearby hill lit up in a mottle of red, white and yellow. I sampled Naxi cuisine and watched Japan lose to the Netherlands on the flatscreen. The numbers walking the streets dwindled until there was no one left as I made my way back to the guesthouse.

Sanjay was due to arrive late afternoon, so I spent the next day climbing a mountain. This would actually serve two purposes. 1: Get a beautiful view of the city and 2: see if I can hack it at the high altitude. Lijiang is about 2800 meters above sea level, and that's about the point where the air starts to get pretty thin. Although not immediately apparent when I entered town, it hit me like a ton of bricks after a few steps up the mountain. I felt like a fatty. Five minutes in, I was keeled over wheezing. More frustrating that anything. Still, I had to acclimatize because in a few days, I was hiking Tiger Leaping Gorge, and with a name like that, I knew it would be no leisurely stroll. So up the mountain I persisted.

Even halfway up, the view was gorgeous. The old town sat in stark contrast with the new town; with low lying brown roofs clustered together like animals trying to keep warm. I too was forced to throw on a jacket as the wind increased with my ever-mounting altitude. It started to rain, so I waited it out in a tiny pavilion. Before long, the splendid view from the top. A couple was already up there cuddling to the tune of Michael Jackson's "Beat It" emanating from the girl's radio backpack.

More rain. This time an hour's worth. I watched the falling patches move over the city and obscure portions, like an unclear memory trying to be remembered. In the far distance, occasional peeks of sunlight. The mountains rolled all around. Lijiang was tangled in the feet of the Himalayas. Soon it cleared up and I was able to descend.

Back at the guesthouse I joined a couple who was watching a movie in the commons area. "Whip It" with Ellen Page. It was juvenile, but entertaining.

Sanjay rolled in at about five and I recognized that old familiar fleece. A handshake and a manhug and we were right back to old times. I met his friend Mark and it became clear that he was the kind of guy I would get along perfectly with. Mild-mannered yet slightly cynical. Good handshake. The guys unloaded their things and we immediately set out for dinner and drinks.

It was great, not being alone for the first time since the golden days of Adam. Someone who shared memories with me and who I could be myself around. None of that first-meeting apprehension that had come to define me in the last six weeks. Even Mark, being such a good friend of Sanjay's, was easy to be comfortable around. Sounds cheesy and sentimental, but this was a big deal for me. You've read my Cambodia/Vietnam entries. Time to experience the other side of the coin and lap it up.

The Dali beer made it's way out, in large format each time, and the conversation grew louder and more spirited. Stories from back in Korea that even I had forgotten. Ahhhh, I loved it! Things got messier, and soon it went from telling old stories to inadvertently making new ones we would no doubt tell later. We left our beer bottle graveyard of a table around 10-ish (maybe?) and gallivanted down the old town streets.

It rained and no one cared. All the apprehension in choosing a place to hang out in was long dissolved and we drunkenly selected this one joint because we saw a guy playing guitar inside. It was packed and the young guitar man ran around the tables playing everyone's favourite songs. Nothing English, but we did managed to pull a garbled "Hey Jude" out of him. The other patrons were a mix of the young and old, drinking like it was a staff Christmas party. Drinking chants would rise up frequently. "Gai-bo! Gai-bo! Gai-gai-bo!" or something like that. The jubilation crossed language barriers. We joined in on the chants. Oh man it was great.

"I'm gonna try to score some free drinks" I remember saying before skirting off towards a table of older Chinese folks. It must have worked because I don't remember anything after that. I awoke an indeterminable amount of time later, and Sanjay, ever the angel, handed me two bottles of water. I was back at the guesthouse with a pile of puke on the floor in front of me. Mine of course. Mark had gone to bed. Sanjay, in no beautiful state himself, soon followed. Eventually I got it together, cleaned up and went to me room. The last thing I remember wondering was how the hell the dorm went from empty to full of people in the span of six hours. My stomach was giving off warning lurches. Echh, worst time to be in a dorm, let alone a full one.

It was like the mornings after payday all over again. Mark seemed to have come off of it nicely, but Sanj and I were shipwrecks. One thing I failed to consider about altitude is that you get drunk quicker. That, and the fact that since being away from Adam, I had no reason to drink at all, which meant I was out of practice and evidently could not keep it together. Oh well, I've suffered worse things than a hangover on this trip. Let's get the day started!

As I ordered breakfast, the front desk guy informed me that my bunk was no longer available for that night and I had to pack up and leave. Apparently someone had booked it up. Apparently. Either that or my vomit antics didn't sit well with the staff and they wanted me out. Whichever it was, I still had to leave, so instead of touring the town, I had to pack up and find another guesthouse.

The place I got was called Mama Naxi's, made famous by it's old, busybodied owner, Mama. She greeted me with a very characteristic enthusiasm. Kind of reminded me of an old, Italian grandmother, except Chinese. Before we set out again, she told me dinner was at 6. "Thanks Mama" I replied.

Now old town Lijiang is big, and I knew that. However, it wasn't until after 30 minutes of walking that we realized just how big it was. This was not only a tourist attraction; these beautiful houses and streets were actually a living, working town. From what I hear, an earthquake hit the place a few years back and the traditional Naxi houses were the only buildings left standing, so the government invested in them heavily. Now there are hundreds of them. We most certainly got lost.

Despite our hangovers we did well. Old town regaled us with it's charm. The two loons I was with then wanted to climb the mountain after I'd told them how cool it was. I semi-reluctantly accompanied them. I had heard that the admission fee was waived after 6pm, but I guess I had heard wrong. Perhaps it was this, or perhaps it was the sight of the mountain, but the guys opted against going any further. Worked for me. I still had a lethal case of rot gut.

We had some terrible expensive food and talked. Then we went back to the guesthouse and talked. That night was everyone's last night in Lijiang. The guys were heading south to Kunming while I was off to go traipse in the gorge. At the end of the night, we said our goodbyes and I headed off back to Mama's.

Again I was alone, but it was fine. Seeing an old friend was great, and I think when I get back to Ottawa I'm going to have a friend overload, so the next few weeks alone shouldn't be too bad, I figured. I fell asleep in a packed dorm.

The next morning I awoke and Mama got me a minibus to the bus station. I did not have my alarm clock though. I left it back at the other guesthouse, so I had the minibus take me there. As I walked in, the desk people took on this "is there any way we can get rid of you?" look. Of course, the alarm clock was gone, and of course, no one had seen it. This French crust-punk couple who were in the room with me just happened to be in the lobby at the time, so I asked them. "Ze yellow one?" the man asked. Yes.... "I don't know." Ugh, someone was clearly BS-ing me at that point, but it was only a $3 clock so I didn't bother kicking up a stink. The inconvenience was the worst part really. Still, despite this, I left Lijiang in high spirits. I had good times with good friends, and that's the first time in a while on this trip that I've been able to say that.

How many of you from Facebook are reading this entry because of this picture?

China again illustrates why it holds the crown for Best Engrish.

Sanj in one of the many many shoppe-lined streets in old town Lijiang.

Oh you bet it was rustic.

Mr. Mao.

Lijiang from above. Old town, to my left, stands in pretty stark contrast with the rest of the city.

Dali (is boring)

The ride up to Dali was smooth and paved aside from a minor detour due to construction. Tacked on an hour, but provided a glimpse of real rural China. I got to Dali at 10, or at least what I thought was Dali.

Again, China decided to make things difficult for me. See, buses marked as going to Dali, technically go to Dali. Dali county. I was dropped off in the city of Xiaguan rather than Dali Town and the rest, I guess, was up to me to figure out. How the hell was I supposed to know this? Why didn't the buses just say Xiaguan? They are doing this on purpose.

So it was 10 and a bus to Dali Town, however hell far that was, seemed highly unlikely, but I tried nonetheless. No one spoke English, of course, and many laughed at my feeble attempts to communicate. No one was even able to recognize a map of where I wanted to go. My frustration mounted exponentially.

A rogue group of drunken old men, perhaps after hearing me continuously say 'Dali", came to the conclusion that I wanted to go to Dali and took me by the arm. They led me up the road where they flagged down a minibus. I got on, having pretty much nothing to lose at that point. We traveled for about 30 minutes until the surroundings got very picturesque. "Dali" one man uttered. BINGO. My then, I had learned how to say "thank you" in Mandarin, so I doled it out liberally. Thank St. Christopher for random helpful locals.

I got my bearings quickly. It's a walled city, aligned with the cardinal directions, so once I found a street sign, it was smooth sailing all the way to the guesthouse. It was a short walk up a pretty, tree-lined promenade with an aqueduct that cut down the center until I reached the Dali Hump, a spinoff of Kunming's Hump. The dorms were all vacant so I got a room to myself. The whole place was vacant actually. After unloading my stuff, I found some food, watched a World Cup match then went to bed.

Next morning, it was a drizzling, sad day. I met and chatted with the staff over breakfast. Tends to happen when the place you're staying at is deserted. Took a walk shortly after. The streets were a mixed thatch of tourist trap boulevards and common Old World alleyways. Bai women in traditional garb threaded the masses along the main roads selling brightly-coloured hand-made souvenirs to the Chinese tourists and weed to the Westerners. I'd say about 99.5% of the visitors were Chinese, all decked out with fold-out maps and expensive cameras set exclusively on auto mode. One particular street was being savaged by people. The shops, appropriately, all catered to this constant influx. It was all so unappealing to me, so I walked elsewhere.

Outside of the tourist traps, it became an otherwise unremarkable town. I let out a heavy sigh. I had yet to even find a photo op I deemed worthy. I did a total of four hours of walking before having a cheap lunch. Another sigh and I walked to a travel agency to book a ticket out the next day. I never intended to stay long, but I at least hoped to see SOMETHING.

Noticing that the city lay between a lake and a mountain, I decided to venture outside of the wall to see one of the two. Favoring a view from above, I opted for the mountain. The town got a lot better along the way. Narrow, winding streets guided me and kids were playing all around. Men worked hard stomping out charcoal fuel cylinders pausing occasionally to watch me walk by. The mountain was dizzyingly high and I had no intention to make it all the way to the top, so i just sat and enjoyed the view just as a few clouds opened up to reveal a blue sky. Didn't quite redeem the town, but it at least made me feel like I accomplished something that day.

After dinner, I joined the Hump employees for drinks and soccer. The manager, Steve, was from Toronto and had been living in China since 1993. Another girl was from Minnesota and had just passed a year. Maybe it was the emptiness of the place, but they both seemed really lonely. A few other guests were there too. It was an evening of quiet, polite conversation.

Next morning I packed up, ate and headed out. Things in Dali were the closest to dull they'd been the entire trip. Sorry if the entry sucked. Like anywhere, if I dug deeper, I'm sure I could've found something fun to do. After all, something must have made Steve want to open up a guesthouse there. I boarded the bus and less Dali slip by and join the other places in the past. I was off to Lijiang, five hours north, to see new places and, no doubt, catch more fast glimpses into the lives of new people.

Dali. The blue sky at this very moment was a miracle.

Charcoal fuel cylinders. They kept the town going.

This is a restaurant. Now want do you want? No, in Mandarin please.

You're not allowed to take photos in churches. I had taken about 12 by the time I found out.