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.
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