1: Return of the Backpack
KUNMING, CHINA – 27 April, 2002
“Welcome you to Kunming” [sic] (or similar) was such a sign one sees all over Kunming as soon as you’re out of the airport. However, on the day of my arrival, I wasn’t easily charmed.
For one, I arrived but my backpack didn’t. All my years of travelling, I’d never had this stroke of bad luck. I did anticipate being separated from my backpack at some point in my trip but I certainly didn’t expect it on the first day of my RTW trip on the first flight out of Singapore. It just spoiled my mood thoroughly.
For another, it didn’t help when all the services I received were done grudgingly and unsmilingly. I got myself settled in Cha Hua Bing Guan and my request to take note of any phone calls for me from Thai Airways was met with barely audible grunts.
Called the Thai Airways office to check how much allowance I was given. My attempts to speak Mandarin must have been laughable because the lady switched to English for my benefit after a while. I wasn’t tuned to the Chinese mode yet. Give me another day or two.
Then, I went shopping. No no, this is NOT the Singaporean spirit in me unleashed once out of the country but a girl has got to brush her teeth and change her undies, hasn’t she?
Kunming seemed quite a hectic city. The traffic was busy all the time. The vehicles were everywhere and unique to China, I supposed, was the enormous number of bicycles. The cyclists had utterly no regard for the vehicles, much less for humans. I took the cue from the locals when figuring out when to dash across the road.
Any person, in any age group, in any attire, cycles. I know I would never be able to pass off as a local here (even if I did not open my mouth). I could never ride a bicycle in high-heels, dressed in working suit and mini-skirt and wearing a chiffon-ribboned chichi hat. Yes, you’re right. I would never be caught dead in a chiffon-ribboned hat.
Besides bicycles, one had to watch out for spits from passing cyclists and pedestrians. There was always a throat being cleared somewhere. Depending on the situation, you either pause in your steps, foot in the air or you make haste to steer clear of the projectiles. Even well-dressed ladies and 3-year-old toddlers were capable of commanding healthy spits. Hooiaaaaarrrrhhh-ptyui!
KUNMING, CHINA – 28 April, 2002
It turned out that Dali, my next destination, had some sort of festival going on and… for the Chinese, Labour Day (1 May) holiday was actually a week-long event. All these would translate to a huge number of tourists visiting Dali these few days, I reckoned.
Since I was confident of getting my bag soon, I bought a bus-ticket for the day after tomorrow – April 30, 2002.
Kunming was a large, modern city but not very interesting. Still, it was clean and the air didn’t feel very polluted. As long as I didn’t get my backpack back, I didn’t want to head out of town for sight-seeing. I would rather be on-call so that I could head off to the airport once it was confirmed my bag had arrived. So, I spent the day meandering all over the city again.
Back at the hostel, I made several calls to check on whether my backpack had landed. A guy had said it was on the 5pm flight but then, at 6:30pm, I was told it was not on it. Perhaps, the 10pm flight later…
Standing at the lobby, I was sometimes, in-between calls, roped in to do translation work between the room attendant and the tourists. I knew this, er… bilingual quality of mine would come in useful in China at some point. At times, when the room attendant was away, being the only Chinese there, I was mistaken for THE room attendant.
Later, when my room-mate Alex (Austrian) went to the travel agency to check on buying a bus ticket to Dali, I had to help translate again as the lady there was totally stupefied by his questions. Two tourists came along and inquired about train tickets to Chengdu and the lady at once hunted me down to translate. Hmmm… How did she conduct her business at other times then? The conversation ended with me explaining that there would be Y30 commission each for the train tickets. Well, I think the whole translation effort should earn me Y10 each!
KUNMING, CHINA – 29 April, 2002
Yet another fruitless day, wandering around Kunming. More bad news as my bag was not on last night’s 10pm flight either. I was now to wait for the 2pm flight and told to check at around 4pm.
Argh… it was getting frustrating. I decided that I needed to get more stuff to survive a few more days. The next most important stuff: toilet paper. Once I had bought them, I felt safe enough to eat at the road-side stalls with the little stools amongst the locals. Soon, I found myself sitting hunched at a round table with other labourer-sorts, with a multi-chipped bowl of rice on hand and some veggies and slurping up the really good food.
At 4pm… again, no bag. As I was leaving for Dali tomorrow, the lady from the Claims Dept told me to head down to the office to collect my Y300 [Y100 = US$12] compensation today. If indeed my backpack was lost (which she reassured me ‘does happen sometimes’), I would be paid US$20 per kg, minus the Y300 compensation, but only one month later. Really crappy this trip is turning out.
At her office, she took my passport and stuff to make some photocopies. Later, she told me that she and I shared the exact birthdate, including the year. Gosh… this was a strange coincidence as I had never met another person who shared the exact birthdate as I. I had to take this as a good omen, for what that it was worth.
KUNMING to DALI, CHINA – 28 April, 2002
Alex and I took the same 7am bus to Dali. On the bus, there were three ladies dressed in their traditional head-dresses and costumes. The road to Dali was actually on an excellent highway, yet one of the traditionally-dressed ladies vomitted half an hour into the ride. The wind caused the vomit to splatter back. Eeeeeww…
We arrived at Xiaguan which was the ‘new’ city of Dali and had to catch a minibus to get to the ‘old’ city of Dali. The bus was crowded and Alex, used to the sardine-packed conditions of South-east Asian minibuses, said it was not that crowded. He spoke too soon. The bus attendant was relentlessly gathering people onto the bus. We were soon packed nostrils to nostrils, spine to spine. She had lipstick, blush and mascara on; every bit like a lady but she was quite an Amazon as she clamoured over the metal railing and bull-dozed her way through the packed bus, yelling and screaming for us to squeeze some more and collecting money from the yet-unpaids.
Dali was beautiful. It had many old traditional Oriental buildings laid out in rectagular grids more or less within some ancient walls, part of which are still around. Some buildings were slanted and had grass growing out of their roofs; others were recently restored with painted pictures and straight walls. Because of the Third Lunar Month Festival, most streets were really packed to the brim with tourists, mainly from other parts of China and villagers from the nearby settlements. Many of the villagers are from the Bai minority groups, but there are some from other minority groups that I do not know the names of. The costumes and head-gears are all beautiful.
The Bai costume was mostly white, with a little apron-skirt and long soft pants. The embroidered decorations were either in pink or red. Their head-gear was like a semi-circle disk around the head with little ribbony or feathery stuffs sticking up. It seemed unreal the locals would wear something as elaborate as this on a daily basis. While there are tour-guides dressed tackily in these, I did see many mothers, on the way to the market, with kids in tow, donning such costumes as well.
All sorts of stalls were set up along the roads. Food stalls selling spicy barbecued kebabs, fried potatoes and fried tofu, jelly, hard sweets, etc. Also, there were stalls for daily needs like towels, knives, etc, lined endlessly along the streets. Villagers and tourists streamed into town all day, wandering around and shopping.
The buildings within Dali ‘old’ city were now converted to sell mainly touristy stuffs, or were travel agencies or western cafes.
And finally, at 4pm, I gave the Thai Airways office another call and again, no bag. I guess that was it. No luck of ever seeing it again. I decided that I would go shopping tomorrow to get many more extra stuffs.
My hostel was only Y10 with free internet and free laundry (if I had laundry, that is…). Excellent deal. Except for the toilets. OK, a quick note about the Chinese toilets. Although I had been pre-warned about the Chinese toilets, I was still shocked when I encountered my first one. There were low walls, sometimes with doors for each cubicle. There would be a drain in the middle for one to squat across. Down below would be the glorious turds of squatters past, encouraging you to contribute your own and quickly, too. Sometimes, even for those with doors, the Chinese themselves would not bother with closing the doors. I could never get used to this. So, I usually looked straight ahead with minimal pause when using the toilets. Once, I did look and a well-dressed lady with her undies pulled down, was SMS-ing on her handphone. Very disturbing sight.
Recommended: Yu’An Yuan or No. 4 Guesthouse at the top of Huguo Lu in Dali (old town).
DALI, CHINA – 1 May, 2002
To cut a long story short, I went shopping the whole morning for T-shirts, pants, many more stuffs… At 4pm however, I still felt compelled to make my final (absolutely, the final one, I assured myself) call to the airport and lo and behold, my backpack had landed!!!
I didn’t know if I ought to be happy or sad. It was difficult to get used to this good news now on DAY 5. Especially, since with my newly procured items, I definitely had EXCESS baggage now! But, boy, it was really great to get my stuff back.
I made more inquiries and made a trip to the Dali airport late that night to meet the last flight from Kunming to Dali to retrieve it. Phew… What a trip my backpack had made on its own… All the way to Tokyo, Japan, then back to Bangkok, Thailand and somehow onwards to Kunming, China and finally to Dali.
Dali was a place where foreign tourists could get ganja quite cheaply. Ganja plants were also grown at odd places if you knew where to look. Alex told me he had been approached five times by 2pm if he wanted ganja. First, the ladies would ask if he wanted a horse-trek to the waterfalls. Then, they would whisper, “Ganja? Smoke?” I supposed they only approached Western tourists since I didn’t get any such offers.
I didn’t really believe Alex as these petite little ladies looked quite innocent. Anyway, Alex got a small bag for Y50 out of curiosity of the quality of the ganja and also so that he could show me. Hah…
That night, the ‘aromatherapy’ fragrance in the room was of course, ganja. I slept after I returned from the airport at 11:30pm. The other five guys from my room were out the whole night. One of them, Ato (Philippines), was an improvisation musician playing in one of the bars in Dali, so the others went to hear him perform. At around 3:30am, all except Carlos (Argentina), returned. Then, a while later, Carlos returned… to hoots of laughter and delight. He had apparently hooked up with a lady ‘from a minority group’ and had gone off with her for a quickie. Now they were saying they love China.
DALI, CHINA – 2 May, 2002
I made a trip out of Dali to smaller towns, further north – Zhoucheng and Xizhou. Both were more quaint than Dali and definitely less touristy. They had better preserved Bai architecture and all those alleyways and tiled roofs would look so great in black-and-white film. I was Miss Snap-happy again. I really had to control myself. I still had another 11 months and three weeks to go. I shouldn’t be taking so many photos.
I was invited to see how the Bai people made their tie-dyes but I felt sorry since I really couldn’t buy anything from them.
There were many people dressed in variants of the Bai costumes. Many old men were also dressed in those Communist blue blazers and wearing a blue head-gear which was a cross between a cap and a beret. Toothless old ladies sat on doorways. Elder folk chatted in the square and had their bottles of tea nearby. The old ladies usually had checked scarves to wrap their hair and would wear straw hats on top. Some were sitting by the steps and listening to Chinese Operas. I observed some men playing Chinese chess for a while. Stall-holders whiled away their time playing mahjong or cards. It was so peaceful and quiet. I greeted a little old lady with ‘Ni Hao’ and she gave me the thumbs-up and praised my Mandarin. That was easy. The towns were great places to walk and linger, doing nothing.
That night, once again, the guys went to the bar. I didn’t join them as I had walked for hours today. When they returned at 4am that night, what I overheard them discussing was really funny.
Apparently, they now thought the girl whom Carlos hooked up with the night before, was actually a guy… or rather, a transvestite. She/He had actually told Carlos she/he was gay last night but Carlos didn’t believe her/him to be a guy because she/he was really beautiful and he didn’t detect any oddities in her body last night.
But that night, all of the others observed her for hours at the bar and found her shoulders too broad, her hands too large and Adam’s apple too big. Carlos finally believed them and had to pretend ‘he was tired’ that night to avoid another session with her.
DALI, CHINA – 3 May, 2002
It seemed a very common thing here in China to carry your tea in bottles or jars. Some had sieves at the top to filter away the tea leaves and one could always find hot-water everywhere to fill up the bottles. The Chinese are very obliging in this aspect.
Alex woke up with a stiff neck and I seemed to have an out-of-place hip-bone. We contemplated if we should order a medicinal massage from our reception and they would send a masseuse by. Carlos wanted to know if the masseuse was a male or a female. On second thought, now with his ‘new’ experience from the other night, he figured it didn’t matter anymore.
The day was rainy so I cancelled my plan to climb up to Zhong He Temple in the mountain and spent the day doing nothing.
We went to Dali Arch that night to watch Ato perform. The ‘boyfriend’ of Carlos was there and I decided to observe her/him. I had to agree with the verdict of the other guys. She/He looked quite like a guy in a way.
DALI, CHINA – 4 May, 2002
Another rainy day with nothing to do. The four of us, Alex, Carlos, Kato (Japan) and I bought two crispy ducks from the wholesaler and some preserved veggies by the market and made a messy lunch out of it.
After lunch, it was siesta time for the guys. Siesta time? They woke up at 11am and now it was back to sleep at 1pm? The really tough life of travellers…
That night, I was suddenly inspired and headed out in the rain to a bookstore to see if I could buy a Chinese book to read. In my entire life, I think I had only read one Chinese book. That was when I was 14 and it was for a book review. My friends back home would be so proud of me to learn that I actually did purchase such a book and it was on a Chinese legend called ‘Shui Hu Zhuan’. Oh, alright, I confess… this was a condensed version for children with cartoons and pronunciation guide.
DALI, CHINA – 5 May, 2002
Bright and sunny, finally. I was elated. I saw Dali with new eyes today and walked around with almost a skip and a silly grin on my face. By afternoon, Alex and I finally made the much-postponed climb up the mountain overlooking Dali to the Zhong He Temple. The view from there was fantastic. At the temple, I made my thanks for the return of my backpack.
After the hearty climb, we headed to a nearby physio-massage clinic to fix his neck and my nagging right hip. The masseuses kneaded us like dough and ticklish Alex was giggling like a girl. As my mom was in this business, I was used to what the masseuse was doing to me and bore my pain in brave silence. Detecting no reaction from me, she kneaded me harder. Arghhh…. On her advice, I should return the next day for more treatment. But both of us agreed it was actually really good massage.
DALI to LIJIANG, CHINA – 6 May, 2002
We went back for more massage but this time, she was vicious. I felt so bruised that I believe I could not sleep on my right side for a couple for days at least.
The road to Lijiang was on well-paved highway too. We arrived in light drizzle and set about to look for our hostel.
Gosh, we were thoroughly enchanted by Lijiang. There were streams circling around town. The old town was set in a hilly region and had undulating cobbled-stoned streets twisting this way and that, swaying trees lining the streams and charming bridges. It made great photos at every nook and cranny. Reminded me a little of an Oriental Venice, with no vehicles and few bicycles.
The locals here were of the Naxi group, which seemed to be of matriarchal system. They had their own language too which was an extraordinary system of pictographs.
Their costumes were duller than the Bai group. They wear blue blouses and trousers covered by blue or black aprons. There was a T-shaped cape tied to their back, I guess, for them to carry baskets easily without chafing themselves. Perhaps it symbolised something too.
At the main square, the Naxi group were dancing in circles and inviting tourists to join in. That’s their traditional dance – gather in a circle, hold hands and do some arm-raising and nifty foot-works, keep heading anti-clockwise and repeat.
LIJIANG, CHINA – 7 May, 2002
It was a shame the weather was rainy here in Lijiang as well, and Lijiang was turning out more expensive than Dali. In Dali, we managed to find a local eatery selling rice and five side dishes for Y2.50 (US$0.30). Not really possible in the old town of Lijiang. Lijiang was a lot more touristy.
So, for cheap food, we headed to the new town across the hill. It’s quite a culture shock to step out of the charming streets of the old town into the buzzing traffic of the new town.
In the middle of the afternoon, Carlos arrived. We had left him lazing around in Dali but he arrived to our hostel now. He had tried to hitch a ride to Lijiang in the rain but finally, still had to pay Y25 for the ride. At least, that’s Y10 cheaper.
He now switched to European women, just to be safe. He could make a mistake about Asian women but for European ones, he could be sure. In fact, he informed us that he had snogged a Danish woman last night. Very tall, at 1.84m. But w-o-m-a-n!!
‘Bao zi’ (meat buns) and ‘jiao zi’ (dumplings) had been favourites of Carlos and Alex back in Dali because they were usually quite cheap and once in Lijiang new town, we were hunting these down again to fill our stomachs.
Then, Carlos went to look for that Danish woman who had arrived in Lijiang in the morning bus.
LIJIANG, CHINA – 8 May, 2002
Tomorrow I leave Lijiang and today, my last day in Lijiang, it was wonderfully bright and sunny. Just in time.
I shot more photos and headed out to a nearby village Baisha to check it out. It was pretty but not very interesting and soon I caught a mini-truck, packed with villagers, back to Lijiang again.
Apparently, Carlos had only found his Danish woman in Lijiang today. And Kato and Ato, my other room-mates from Dali, also arrived in Lijiang today. We had quite a reunion gathering on the bridge outside my hostel in the rain.
That night, at Sakura Cafe, I had a glimpse of Carlos’ Danish lady. Wow, at 1.84m tall (taller than Carlos) and with a very broad face, she too looked like a man to me. Haha….
I shall part ways with Alex who had been a great travel-mate for the past 10 days. He would return to Dali and Kunming to go back to where he really loves, Vietnam. Carlos would head up north via an alternative route to Chengdu and I would go straight to Chengdu by bus and train. Long day tomorrow.
