Yunnan and the "City of Eternal Spring": Part One.

Yunnan

The next part of my trip was yet another province I was really looking forward to exploring. Yunnan is renowned for its lush flora and ideal climate. After travelling for some time now through filthy hot Chinese cities, with the exception of the beautiful Jiuzhaigou, I was really looking forward to exploring a less humid area. I had been eagerly checking weather reports of all my destinations since I left on my trip and I knew Yunnan was yielding some very desirable results.

My first port of call was to be Kunming, the province’s capital, and a place referred to as the “City of Eternal Spring” because of its perpetual spring like weather. Simply stepping off the train onto the platform, and not to be greeted with the thick humid heat I was becoming so used to, was enough to immediately endear me to Kunming.  Although I was only staying one night here, before making the long journey up to Dali, I was anticipating walking the city streets in climatic comfort, thrilled at knowing I would not end up returning to my hostel damp with sweat.

I made my way to the hostel with the help of a free pickup, and while on my journey I was joined by a lovely couple from Germany who had also just been in Sichuan and who were following a similar route through Yunnan to me. After chatting with them for the 40 minute trip, we parted ways at reception and I checked in my dorm and began the usual clothes and body washing routine.         

Next up I headed out to explore the city and try and find a post office in order to offload the large amount of panda paraphernalia I had acquired in Sichuan. The area I spent time in gave me the impression that Kunming was a little different from the usual Chinese cities. It was very quickly evident to me that the warm climate there allowed the city gardens to thrive and be wonderfully verdant. While searching for a post office I walked up streets lined with trees and saw boxed flowers growing all along the pedestrian mall. Perhaps all this flora had something to do with it, perhaps it was just psychosomatic, but I felt a change in the atmosphere here in Kunming. I feel the air was fresher and cleaner than any other large Chinese city I had visited.

In the few hours I spent exploring Kunming that first day, I walked through several temples and pagodas and passed by numerous gardens, all flush with blooming flowers and leafy shrubs. The sun was warm but not offensively humid and I felt revived and recharged.

West Bell Tower on a perfect summer day. 

Unfortunately however, my time in Yunnan was not destined to be much fun due to a series of ill-fated events. The first of these disasters came in my choice of accommodation. I was only staying one night in Kunming before heading North West into Yunnan and onto Lijiang. Knowing I would only be staying one night, I gave little heed to my hostel choice, and simply booked the cheapest available with the best reviews. Not my best decision. I never normally name names here but this is going to be the exception.

I booked myself in to stay a night at The Hump Hostel. According to the website I book all my accommodation through, it had the best reviews of all the hostels in Kunming, and offered a reasonably priced dorm bed. My stay here was truly awful. I have a high tolerance for average lodgings, I understand that its temporary, and I am usually willing to overlook things I could never tolerate in my permanent home. That being said The Hump was a huge disappointment from the get go. I had booked into an 8 bed dorm, which admittedly was my own mistake, with full occupancy. The room was large enough, but lacked both curtains over the windows and any kind of decent fan. The communal bench was strewn with stuff left over from previous guests and nothing seemed to have been cleaned in sometime. The room itself was flush up against a busy road and was directly opposite a large bank which came complete with bright red LCD lights, as I discovered later that evening when I tried to go to sleep.  These factors, combined with the three inconsiderate girls who found it perfectly acceptable to come in at 2am and turn all the lights on, led to my getting perhaps less than 3 hours sleep all night.

Let’s just take a brief moment now to discuss hostel courtesy. To me it seems obvious, that if you are sharing a room with several strangers, it is just common sense to be polite. My experiences however are starting to make me think I am wrong. As a general rule, when I’m in a dorm I expect most people who are in the room after 10:30 at night, are probably there to sleep. Ergo, I creep in, leave the lights off and attempt to make as little noise as possible. I know I am not the only person who thinks this is normal, I have spoken to other travellers at great length about this, but apparently there are a large number of travellers who think this politeness is unnecessary. They think it is okay to come barging in well after midnight, flick on all the lights and engage in heated discussions at a high volume. I discovered an alarmingly large amount of Chinese people think it is okay to have their phones ring and ring and ring at full volume at 5am before answering it to have the worlds loudest conversation. And the packing! Oh, the packing… I still do not understand why, when you are checking out pre 7am, would you choose to not pack the night before? And why are these people apparently choosing to pack with the noisiest, scrunchiest plastic bags in the entire world?  GAH! I think it must just be one of life’s mysteries.

Anyway, back to my previous rant…  The next day I got up, used the filthy smelly showers and proceeded to get myself ready to head to the train station. I was greeted coldly by one of the three staff working behind the counter after patiently waiting 10 minutes for them to stop having their clearly vital discussion about their night out together, who found my checking out to be a huge inconvenience to her, where I was thrown my deposit money back without so much as a thanks or a goodbye. I left feeling deflated.

I took myself to the train station and clambered my way up to the obligatory top bed. After taking of my hiking boots and tying them to my backpack, I suddenly realised my pack was much smaller than it usually was, and I was hit with a sudden realisation. While packing that morning (after 8am I might add) I had missed removing my duck down jacket from the back of my storage locker. I was filled with a sense of dread that I might not see my favourite and most expensive travel item was gone, but I called the hostel in the hopes that someone had found it and put it aside. After a couple of calls and a few half Chinese/ half English conversations I pinned it down that yes, someone had found my coat and I could return to collect it. Given that I was already one hour into a seven hour train journey that would keep me up in the north of the province for a week, I asked the lady I was speaking with to keep it for me for a week, to which she shrieked back down the phone at me “A WEEK?!”. I apologised profusely and told her I would call back again when I arrived in Lijiang and set an exact time.

It was not to be however. Upon arriving into Lijiang in the dark during an epic rainstorm, I wandered around the maze like hutong until I found my new hostel, hopeful that my accommodation would prove better than the previous nights. I checked in, leaving a large water mark in the foyer and asked the polite and well-spoken receptionist if she would call my last hostel and arrange a time for me to pick up my jacket. I stood dripping, struggling to understand half a conversation, but becoming increasingly agitated as I picked out words such as “bù cúnzài” and “méiyǒu”. The mother-flippers were telling her they did not have such a jacket and nothing had been found. I can only imagine how disturbing I must have looked to this lovely hostel worker as I proceeded to wail loudly, stamp my foot and fire off expletives. I was cold, completely soaked through, exhausted and now really, really pissed off. After taking a few minutes to release my pent up rage, I then thanked the girl with a smile and calmly walked to my room, silently plotting my revenge.  

The next day I decided to head out early and explore the world heritage listed Lijiang Old Town. After a night of bucketing down, the weather had taken a turn for the better and the sun was shining and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. The old town itself has a history going back over 800 years. It consists of beautiful old stone pathways and bridges, thousands of tiny shop, and endless areas to explore. There are no cars or bikes allowed in the area, so I was free to get lost among the winding cobbled streets and steep, narrow stairways in relative peace.

I was travelling during the peak tourist season in China, and Lijiang has become immensely popular among the locals. When I first arrived I decided to hike up the side of the town that was built into a large, in order to take some photos while the sun was shining. This was possibly the best idea I could have had, the steep incline must not have seemed worth the effort to the Chinese as I was virtually on my own during my walk, and I found plenty of empty avenues to admire and photograph. 

The vista I was greeted with at the top was well worth the hike. From the top I was able to see just how vast the town was, there were charcoal coloured sloping rooftops as far as I could see, surrounded by mountains and covered by a crystal clear azure sky. It was gorgeous and I managed to stay sometime, perched at a lookout, taking photos and avoiding the increasing foot traffic below me.

Soon though, I felt the need for some food, so I slowly wound my way down into the bustling hub that was the central square of Lijiang Old Town. Each street I found myself passing through seemed to be lined the same kinds of stores, souvenirs shops touting local cloths, silverware and yak meat, all with eager staff shouting and pulling at me as I walked passed. The combination of the maze like lanes and the repetitious nature of the stores all contributed to my ultimate loss of direction. I ended up spending a good two hours just trying to weave my way to the main square. When I finally found what I was looking for, I moved out from the shadowy alleyways and into a bustling sun soaked square, where I sat myself down to warm up my bones.

The hordes of tourists were increasing, swelling up to what seemed almost bursting point, unlike anything I had ever seen outside of Beijing. I gave up my seat to a little old man and decided to brave the crowds and push my way through to the other side of the square in an effort to find somewhere to eat. After maybe ten minutes, after much pushing and shoving and ignore requests for people to move, I had progressed only ten metres. To avoid any kind of claustrophobic panic attacks I pulled away from the crowd and ducked down yet another tiny cobbled street and thought to try my luck there. I manage to find more of the same souvenir shops I had seen everywhere but this time my growling stomach made me determined to go in and try some of this famous Naxi yak meat.

As soon as I entered the store I was greeted by a worker who thrust several samples of this local delicacy at me. Chinese snack food for me has always been hit and miss. Their sweet foods that mimic European bakery items always look appeal but ultimately lack a certain je ne sais quoi. Their meat based snacks also leave me confused, with chicken feet being mildly tasty, but lacking almost anything on it to actually eat. Once, in my very early days of living in China I bought something that resembled a sweet doughnut, and I bought it without batting an eyelid, looking for a taste of home. Oh how naïve I was. The brown sugary floss that sat atop the doughnut looked unlike anything I had ever seen back home on such an item but I figured it had to be delicious.  Perhaps it would have been had I not been conditioned to think of doughnuts as a sweet food. I learnt two hard lessons that day: the first is that the brown sugary looking floss is in fact a meat product known as ‘pork floss’. The second lesson was never judge a Chinese snack food by its presentation. But I digress…

The point is I willing to try this very popular treat but was preparing myself to be at best, underwhelmed and at worst, revolted. I found myself pleasantly surprised when I tried my first piece. It was reminiscent of beef but with slightly different texture and a milder flavour. In the end my growling tummy appreciated the roast yak samples greatly and I managed to stuff enough of them in my mouth to work out to be about the equivalent of a decent steak I think. I thanked the girl who took me through them and bought some dried spicy versions to send home and share with my friends back in Wuxi.

As the morning slipped into after noon, I spent a few more hours walking around Old Lijiang hoping the crowds would thin out, but they never did. By 5pm I was finding myself increasingly irritated with being jostled, bumped and jabbed. I was beginning to frown heavily and snap loudly, at the rude Chinese people pushing me to get by, knocking me about without so much as an apologetic glance. I took this as a sign and spent the next hour working my way out of the maze of streets to find a bus to take me back to my hostel.

By the time I got back I was cold, hungry again and desperately in need of some quiet time. I ordered a huge steaming plate of stir-fried noddles, an enormous cup of delicious ginger tea and settled in for the night. Lijiang Old Town had proved itself to be both startlingly beautiful and horrible all at once, but it was easy to see that the horrible parts were a direct result of excessive tourism and commercialisation, which was proving to be quite prevalent throughout China. I tried to put it out of my mind and think of better things. The very next day I would be mountain biking it up to ancient village of Baisha. I had found very little in the way of information on this place and so I was having high hopes that it would be less touched by tourism and a place where I could explore in relative peace.