Dali

The bus chugged onwards, darted around a corner, and before my eyes was the most incredibly breathtaking scene I had witnessed in my 19 years of life. Green rice fields reaching out gracefully to the mountains in the distance. A town spotting the land. Sunshine breaking through silvery-gray rainclouds, showering the mountains with light. This all on a road far enough in the distance and high enough on the hills to feel as though one were spying on the farming town on the wing. And as the bus continued to chug onwards, a mound of dirt would block the view--a tantalizing moment before the break of glory once the hillside swept away.

After the third or fourth time seeing a scene equally as stunning, equally as moving, I began to get suspicious. It seems that maybe China has discovered how to control their weather to make for the most captivating landscapes. Must investigate later.

Dali was an interesting city, although I could have used more time to get a feel for the place. There was a strong presence of weed here, and of Westerners. Managed to nab an honest-to-goodness Western breakfast (eggs, bacon, and bread), which was very nice.

A highlight in Dali was, surprisingly enough, a bar. We had all headed out to find the typical "Bar Street" of Dali, and came across a place with fairly inexpensive drinks and a nice atmosphere. Sitting down to order, we were chatting, and generally having a great time, when suddenly, the lights turn off, loud dance music begins to play, and the chairs are moved from the bar area, revealing a good-sized dance floor. The rave lights start a-flashing, and the bar is almost instantly converted into a dance club. The thing was, however, that no one was dancing. Easily remedied by us outgoing Americans, who all commandeered the area and slowly dragged in a small Chinese crowd as well. Haha, what a great night it was! While most people keep ample distance between themselves and other dancers on the floor (specifically the Chinese), simply moving their bodies to the tempo, our group was positively racy with one another, choosing to instead mold our bodies with beat and fellow bodies, test boundaries, explore the fluctuations of musical eroticism. Nothing fishy, just dancing, total security, shocking China.

Dali Highlights:
DVD Store--$1 DVDs, may or may not work, may or may not be in English, definitely illegal, but the least expensive, and most adventurous, way to see and own movies you're bound to find. Anywhere. DVD stores are EVERYWHERE, but this is where I first encountered them. Hello, bootleg DVD.
Deep-fried mouse-sized whole crabs--Delicious. Eat the shell and everything, chomp!
Foreigner's Street--Western food, Western folks, Chinese twist
The scenery--words can't describe.

Too short a stay, in my opinion... Would love to have explored more than I had the opportunity to. Off to Kunming, an even shorter stay, before heading back to good ol' Beijing.

Lijiang

Like spider webs on the skin that you can feel but can't see, I imagine this is how my reiterations will be of the events following Chengdu. It's been a long time since meandering along the stone paths of historic Lijiang, since the entrancing bus-ride to Dali, since the haze and confusion of Kunming. I'll do my best, but forgive me if the glitter doesn't reflect the illumination.

Traditional Chinese architecture, ethnic minorities selling scarves, necklaces, clothes, yak yogurt, combs, silver doodads, artwork, craftwork in booths lining worn stone pathways, soft light, cold mornings, spontaneous rains, and tourists--Lijiang is not a place that can be summed-up with ease. Within the "old city," one will find the aliens (Chinese and waiguoren alike.) Just beyond this, one stumbles upon the poverty, the agriculture, the animals, the markets, the China of which many of us had dreamed. We stayed in this city for the majority of our trip: about 3 days.

Here, I tasted baijiu for the first time. Baijiu, before being largely replaced by beer, was the staple and indigenous alcohol of the Middle Kingdom. It is described by the Chinese as "la," meaning "spicy," for its punch and aroma. Spicy, although a fantastic play on words, is not exactly how I would describe baijiu, as I feel its taste is more similar to petroleum than chili. It is the choice drink for inebriation as 4 kuai-(about $0.80-)worth will knock you on your ass for about a day and a half. I haven't yet brought myself to try baijiu with any seriousness, since then.
Here, I rented a bicycle and adventured with a very small group into agricultural villages nearby, ate small whole fish fried on a stick, pet beautiful small ponies being walked by some of China's most rare ethnicities.
Here, I wandered the streets aimlessly at all hours of day and night. There is no grid pattern for these roads, and the unique landmarks in the depths of the old-city are few and far between, with the redundant shop after shop after shop selling craft after craft after craft (all the same, but all hand-made by each owner).
Here, I listened to traditional Naxi music played by the last-living musicians (most in their 70s and 80s) whose fingers danced across erhu, zither, flute, bell, and drum as exquisitely as only my childish enthusiasm would have let them. I met the master of the orchestra, who had been imprisoned for over 30-years as a result of the Hundred Flowers Campaign.
Here, I remembered my studies; I lived within history.

I definitely recommend you try the yak yogurt. Avoid the small round pastry-looking breads with sesame seeds on top--they are composed entirely of dry. Get out of old city--the real world is outside the tourist trap. Get lost. Don't be afraid to fall into mystery.

“Like all great travellers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen.”
--Benjamin Disraeli

Bittersweet farewell, as we all crowded onto a bus for a long, long drive to Dali.