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.
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.
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