Shanghai (CHINA)

I woke up at around 7:00 a.m. this morning to make up for my procrastination - there were still a handful of things to take care of before boarding the ferry at noon today. Firstly, I needed to find souvenirs for other friends back in Tokyo as it is taboo to travel and not bring gifts back for people. I ended up catching a taxi back to the Old Shanghai district and picking up stuff there. Next, was shopping for my own goods as the dollar has been plummeting again: it was 120 Japanese yen to the dollar when I arrived in Japan, and now it is down to only 102 yen/USD. I visited a grocery store and loaded up on cheap Chinese items - toothbrushes, toothpaste, packs of ramen (for the ferry), etc - so I would not have to buy them back in Japan. Lastly, I bought a Subway sandwich and bubble tea to serve as my lunch on the boat. Neil was back in the hotel room packing up all his stuff, so after he finished we checked out of the hotel (where the hotel manager played dumb with my key deposit) and caught a taxi to the loading area.

We cleared Chinese customs in a basement area before boarding a bus (shown to the left) that drove us to the ferry boarding area. There were roughly 70 other people also taking the ferry, including a handful of foreigners. I was assigned a bunk in the same room as these other foreigners, and they all turned out to be good people: two were traveling independently (an American graduate student and an ex-investment banker from Australia), and there was a couple who were studying the Japanese language together in Nagoya.

Strangely enough, the guy in the bunk across from me, Jaeson Kawadler, grew up in a small town outside Boston (Massachusetts) called Sharon. The reason this is so bizarre is because this is the very same town where my father grew up, and where much of my family still lives. Indeed, Jaeson went to school with two of my cousins, Bobby and Jessie Malcolmson. Given that Sharon's population is only 20,000 people, this was an amazing coincidence.

As for the ferry, I had no complaints. There was an on-board cafeteria, karaoke room, bar, ping-pong table, arcade, and full shower facilities (with hot water). I rented ping-pong paddles and played Neil for a while before settling in to read a book and watch the many knock-off DVDs Neil bought in China.

Before going to sleep in the evening I swallowed a couple of the motion sickness pills provided - not so much because the boats minimal rocking bothered me, but rather because they have a sedative effect.

Shanghai (CHINA)

The train from Kunming pulled into platform 8 of Shanghai's long-distance train station at 5:30 this morning. Still groggy-eyed and travel-worn, Neil and I were the last ones off the train in a vain hope that we would avoid the hassle of pushy crowds. I should know better than to think such things can ever be escaped in China, especially in a bustling city like Shanghai. The turnstiles were the problem this time as the concept of a queue was abandoned for the far-less efficient mob mentality.

At 7:00 pm, Neil and I met Tiffany Curtis, a Georgia Tech student currently interning for a non-profit organization in Shanghai, and a French friend of hers at the Sichuan restaurant. I have written about the performance in the past, so I will simply link it here rather than detailing everything again.

March 26, 2008

CHINA

Closing Down on the 2,660 Kilometer Distance Between Kunming and Shanghai

This morning was OK. I woke up at around 8:00 am, brushed my teeth with scalding water (ensuring it is safe to drink), changed into a new set of clothes, and settled in to finish the remainder of my book, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murikami. Then, at around 11:00am, I ate my second pack of spicy Sichuan-styled ramen noodles, and washed it down with a random bottle of beer sold along the side of a random station.

Between 1:00 and 2:00 in the afternoon there was some excitement as we first passed a convoy of roughly 60 military tanks being transported by rail (heading toward Yunnan Province), and then 30 minutes later the train came to a skidding halt. No one could figure out why we stopped so abruptly, but many drinks were spilled and bodies went tumbling as it happened. It felt like we hit something, but that may have just been all the train cars banging into one another - it is impossible to say for sure. After a 20 minute stop along the tracks, we got going again, and there would be no further breaks from the monotony of a 36 hour train ride.

By the time I finished my third bowl of ramen noodles all I could taste in my mouth was MSG, and after finishing my book I was left with little else to do except wait for Neil to finish his. Yes, these were bad times, but what else is to be expected on such a grueling train ride?

I walked up and down the train a couple of times, chatting with different Chinese en route. I met one interesting man who carried around a flask and claimed to be from Harbin, which is China's northern-most city on the north-eastern border with Russia. He spoke crap Chinese and crap English, but he kept talking for nearly 20 minutes while I both tried to look interested and tried to escape.

For dinner, Neil and I ate at the dining car, which charges 20+ rmb/dish, but we were both out of ramen noodles by this point. In the end, the food was so awful we pushed it to one side and ate our bowls of white rice before returning to our bunks, defeated.

"Only ten more hours to go now, just sleep," I thought to myself.

And it worked.

March 25, 2008

Kunming (CHINA)

Final Day in Yunnan Province: Stocking Up for the Long-Haul

The overnight bus pulled into Kunming at around 10:00 am this morning, bringing a 14 hour overnight haul to a close. As far as comfort goes, this last ride was comparatively good: the cold mountain air maintained a fresh feeling on the bus and I didn't hear any spitting the whole night. That is not to say no spitting took place - I know better than that - but at least I didn't have to listen to repeated guttural sounds the whole time.

The first order of business was securing the train tickets. Neil and I caught a ride with an entrepreneurial mini-bus driver who gave us a discounted lift to the train station. I used a local public phone to call the "contact's" phone number, and after a 45 minute wait a young woman showed up to complete the deal. Everything was in order and I handed over 480rmb: at 4:25 pm train K80 would depart on the 2,660 kilometer journey.

In the mean time, we decided to load up on last-minute goods. The tentacles of capitalism have reached even Yunnan province, one of China's most obscure regions, and we located a newly constructed Wal-Mart near the center of town. While Neil went after the gummy bears, I was thrilled to see just about everything: it has been years since my last trip into a Wal-Mart. Afterward, Neil went shopping at the Chinese version of Wal-Mart: the many discount DVD stores selling top-quality movies for under $1USD/each.

After a lunch consisting primarily of local spicy dishes and cold beer to wash it down, we spent an hour waiting around at the train station. Unsurprisingly, the station was utter madness...

With all these people, it was not surprising when a fight broke out. What was surprising was that Neil and I correctly guessed the reason: a man accidentally spit on another man's shoe. What ended up drawing seven police officers and train attendants over to disperse the crowd was the pushing and screaming by the victim's wife (surely a Shanghainese trouble-maker) who was enraged that the lowly man would not apologize for his mistake. The whole thing lasted 20 minutes, which was great for me because it meant more time killed.

However, for the next two days, waiting would become the name of the game.

Neil and I both had top bunks in the "Hard Sleeper" section, which contains two sets of three bunks facing each other in a door-less compartment. This is my favorite way to travel because the price is 50% that of a flight and 66% that of a "Soft Sleeper" (two sets of two bunks in a private compartment). At the top, no one can bother you by stepping on you as they climb in or out of bed, and there is also a storage area giving extra room to keep your bags at hand.

Dinner consisted of ramen noodles and saltines, but both of us were deep into books so the evening passed by quickly.

March 24, 2008

Shangri-la (CHINA)

Savoring the Time in Shangri-la, A Strong Military Presence, and an Overnight Bus to Kunming

For an American, I probably rate highly in terms of my addiction to soccer. While I do not get to play as often as I would like, there are very few obstacles I have yet to overcome in order to watch Arsenal matches. (A few weeks ago I even watched a Champions League match at one of Thailand's "Lady Bars" because it was the only 'establishment' open at 3:30 am). Last night, or rather early this morning, was no different: I spent two hours yesterday scouring all the restaurants, wannabe-bars, and guest houses in Shangri-la trying to find a wireless internet connection so I could tap into a live stream of the Arsenal-Chelsea match. Naturally, I found what I was looking for, but it might have been better if I missed it altogether: the team blew a 1-0 lead and ended up losing 2-1 in a gut-wrenching fashion (losing always is).

I mention the football match as an excuse because it left me exhausted today, which was no bad thing because there was not a whole lot to do. Today was my last day in the euphoric retreat of Shangri-la, and the only important things to accomplish were securing my overnight bus ticket to Kunming and a subsequent train to Shanghai. The bus ticket was easy: it was a simple 10 rmb taxi ride to and from the long-distance bus station where I bought a sleeper ticket for the 8:00 pm departure. The train ticket, on the other hand, was more of a challenge... I wanted to take tonight's overnight bus to Kunming, and then catch the 37-hour train to Shanghai on the same day. Since tickets need to be bought at the train station in Kunming, I was in somewhat of a bind. After much legwork, I contacted "a contact" in Kunming, who agreed to buy tickets for Neil and I at only a 2% mark-up (who doesn't love cheap labor).

With my logistics settled, I spent the day relaxing around town in preparation for the heavy travel to come: a 12 hour overnight bus to Kunming, eight hour loitering around the city, and a 37-hour train-ride to Shanghai (amounting to nearly 3-day's worth of shower-less travel). Taking "a day off" was no bad thing: the sun came out for a few hours, which raised the temperature above freezing and made it more bearable to be outdoors. Of course, I was still dressed like a fashion icon, but I will be looking forward to ridding myself of the new outfit: it smells like it has not been washed... Ever.

One other story for the day was the "establishment" of a military presence in Shangri-la. Although there were policemen parked at every corner since our arrival, today I saw half a dozen convoys of riot-police patrolling the town in open-aired transport vehicles and military soldiers (fully armed) marching through the busier areas. It was not a pleasant sight, but the locals didn't seem to pay any of it any attention: school children rode past on their bicycles without even giving this new development a second glance. Perhaps they were warned by their parents against doing anything to stand out at a time like this?

As for the overnight bus, the only interesting thing to happen was when we made a random bathroom stop in a random town and were confronted with armed military personnel lining the night streets. There must have been serious unrest in this area because the town  looked deserted, yet here were dozens of soldiers standing at the ready.

In retrospect, this was certainly an interesting time to visit this region of China.

March 23, 2008

Shangri-la (CHINA)

Investing in Warm Clothes for Shangri-La (I am a Fashion Guru) and Touring Shangri-La's Ganden Sumtseling Gompa

If it weren't for the double-layering of blankets and the electronic heater in my bed, I may very well have frozen last night. The door and windows to my room left gaping holes for the sub-zero cold to seep through, and I even went so far as to sleep with a pair of socks on my hands. Fortunately, the hostel has a motorized power-supply that provided hot-water in the morning. It was somewhat incongruous taking a steaming hot shower (steam forms at a lower temperature here because of the altitude difference) while I could see my breath at every exhalation.

As is made painfully clear in the paragraph above, I would need to do something to counter the cold in Shangri-la. Neil and I headed into town where we searched out the first army-surplus store we could find - a trick I learned when I traveled from the blistering heat of the Gobi Desert (in the summer, nonetheless) to the roof of the world at Mount Everest.

I proceeded to rummage through the heaps of junk around the shop until I found the kind of outfit that would make me a star on the runways of Milan. Complete with a People's Liberation Army military jacket, an old Communist-styled wooly hat, gloves, and new shoes, I began the bargaining process. The owner of the shop was a Han Chinese, which worked to my advantage because we were able to understand one another. I ended up buying everything with a crisp 100 rmb note (roughly $14USD), with my chief threat being that I could buy a similar jacket from the hundreds of military men who are converging on the city because of the feared unrest. (Thankfully, this brought a smile to her face.)

With my new outfit, I was finally warm enough to move around the city, but what I gained in comfort was lost in conspicuity (isn't that a mouthful). Quite simply, every person I passed in the streets stopped dead in their tracks, mouth agape, to look at me. I adapted several small dances, complete with 'clever' phrases like, "What is better, my dance or foreigner's new fashion?" Some people laughed, some people didn't, but most people just continued to stare at me well after I passed.

For the next day or so, I will serve as the village idiot.

We grabbed breakfast at one of the few foreign-oriented cafes open in town - a place where Neil and I capitalized on the opportunity to mix Mexican food (a depressing attempt at a quesadilla) with Chinese egg-and-tomato soup. I also capitalized on the cup of hot water served to warm our hands by pouring the contents of a Nescafe instant-coffee packet into it, and saving myself 6 rmb. It is a telling observation to note that the cafe brought a pot of coals to every table to help keep the customers warm.

Afterward, Neil and I decided to walk about an hour outside of town (there wasn't a whole lot else to do with our time) to the Ganden Sumtseling Gompa. As a 300-year old Tibetan monastery complex with (supposedly) 600 resident monks, this is the most important in southwest China.

The walk outside the city was an interesting escapade in its own right: we saw all the standard sights like decapitated animal skulls resting outside meat restaurants, pigs eating garbage along the side of streets, and plenty of dilapidated billiards tables, plus the added bonus of towering snow-capped mountains on all sides. Lest it be forgotten, Shangri-la is the last stop before reaching the famed land of Tibet. As a side note, I don't mention the pigs or animal skulls to paint China in a negative light - most people recognize that I am one of China's biggest advocates - but rather to accurately describe the condition of the country.

Between the burned red and white coloring (a very accurate description of the hues, in my opinion) and the standard geometric shapes of the buildings, I felt immediately reminiscent of my time spent in Tibet. (Although it was 'only' 20 months ago, it feels like a lifetime ago). Of course, from a distance once could also easily see the main building adorned with a golden roof - indicating there would be an "entry fee" attached to my visit. Call my a pessimist, but I have it on good authority that the prices for admission to all the Tibetan monasteries were up to 10 times lower before the Chinese government usurped control of them and took it upon themselves to "raise money for Tibet."

Below are a variety of photos taken from the monastery complex, which was surprisingly empty: we only saw a dozen monks in total. Whether this is because of the protests or some other reason was not clear, but I could sense the monks' hesitation when I asked them (always when we were alone) what they thought of the the recent Tibetan protests.

The one monk who did converse with me was a young monk aged only 16 (I have since forgotten his name). His Mandarin was very poor - most Tibetans do not speak 'standard' Chinese, which is something the PRC government is desperately trying to change - so it was not easy to understand everything, but he said many of the monks work around the area and only return to the monastery in the evenings. However, he also said that there has been a lot of unrest recently because of the protests and military presence, and many of the top monks have been gone for over one week now (he was not sure if they left on their own will or were forced to). Obviously, I did not want to press him too hard because it is very dangerous for him to be seen speaking to me, especially with everything that has happened recently (nearly 40 protestors were confirmed dead yesterday after being shot by the military).

After visiting the monastery Neil and I caught a bus back into town as it was getting late in the day. We spent the rest of the evening read books, eating, and drinking beer at the cafe-turned pub in the center of town. Joining us were the 7 other foreigners who also made it out to Shangri-la at this time of year.

March 22, 2008

Tiger Leaping Gorge (CHINA)

Hiking Out of Tiger Leaping Gorge, and Repeated Warnings over our Bus to Shangri-La

Cold showers have been the norm ever since I said goodbye to the ridiculous luxuries of the Four Seasons Hotel in Singapore one month ago. However, taking a cold shower on a beach in Thailand, where the sun is always out, is no bad thing. On the other hand, when one is at an altitude of 2500 meters and the sun does not rise until 10:00am because of the towering mountains, there are few prospects worse than an icy shower. So, with the size 6 rubber slippers (I am actually a size 11) provided in the room, I scrubbed myself as quickly and thoroughly as humanly possible under the torment of freezing conditions - I could see my breath the entire time.

The only way to prevent catching a cold was by piling all the blankets on top of the electronic blanket provided in the room, so that when I emerged as a popsicle I dashed under the covers of the bed to my small haven of warmth. I tell this story because it should give an idea of the difficulties that often arise when traveling far away from mankind's creature comforts, but also because I suspect I am not the only one who would prefer such unique experiences to the sublime bathrooms of a place like the Four Seasons (although you probably won't see me turning such luxuries down when I am older.)

There cannot be many better views to wake up to in the morning than the one to the left.

By 8:30am Neil and I drained a couple cups of Nescafe instant coffee, and set off for what would become the final day of the 16km trek. We started our walk with a group of four Spaniards who have been studying Mandarin in Kunming, but as they were still on Spanish time (ie What's the hurry), there quickly emerged distance between us. (As a side note, they somewhat wisely completed the first day of trekking with the help of two mules - one for carrying alternating members of the group and the other for the bags.

The Spaniards proved invaluable when, after about 45 minutes of hiking, Neil and I heard them calling down to us from several hundred meters above. Apparently, we took a wrong turn, and without their help who knows how long it would have taken us to figure this out on our own. Anyway, we had to backtrack uphill for 20 minutes before we regained the path, but taking the wrong turn wasn't such a bad thing: we found a decapitated dog (wolf?) head lying on the ground. I have no idea how the head got there, or why its teeth were so damn white while the tongue was still sticking out of its mouth, but the cigarette butt lying nearby left me with one plausible idea: smoking kills.

Pretty random, huh?

The day's trek took a turn for the worse when the rain started falling at around 11:00am, and although it never started pouring, it was a nuisance nonetheless - primarily because of the cold. Neil once more began feeling the effects of altitude sickness, so our pace was slowed, but nowhere near as much as yesterday. Once more, it was probably a good thing the pace was slow because the path was anything but safe: every year, there are one or two trekkers who fall to their death.

Perhaps the pictures below will give an idea how treacherous most of the day was. To the left is what the trail looks like for a three kilometer stretch: a 1.5 meter wide path with a sheer drop of 1000 meters. To the right is a picture of a particularly dangerous area where a waterfall was falling directly on the path, and there was no choice but to walk right through it. Since the water was six or seven centimeters deep, we had no choice but to step on the rocks, but wet as they were this was probably the worst thing we could have done. On the right, Neil is ominously close to the edge, and the tiniest slip would mean the end.

Below are a couple other photos, the one on the left taken at the same cross as above as a sort of this could be the last photo ever taken of me shot. The photo to the right shows another waterfall we passed under during the trek.

By around 3:00pm we made it through the trek, and all that remained was a several kilometer walk along a construction road that leads down to the rapids of the gorge. However, neither Neil nor myself felt like putting our knees through any more ill-treatment with the steep climb - especially because we had seen and heard the rapids continuously for the past two days - so we instead decided to wait along the road and hitchhike back.

It took us about 20 minutes of waiting, but eventually a small minibus, was returning after a drop-off of some sort (I couldn't understand everything the man was saying), gave us a lift for 25rmb each. We negotiated the price down as far as we could, but we were hoping to reach Zhongdian (Shangri-La) by the same evening, so it was important we reached town without much delay. The drive back took one hour, which is remarkable considering it was only 16 kilometers. The gravel road was in awful condition because of the many landslides (we heard two during our trek, and they are LOUD) and there was only one meter of space between the wheels and the edge. Both Neil and I were cringing as the driver bounced along the road, apparently oblivious to the peril at hand.

Upon reaching Qiaotou, where I returned the jacket to the Australian guesthouse owner and retrieved my backpack, we hustled out of town to try and catch the last bus to Shangri-la for the day. The timing worked out perfectly as we only had a 20 minute wait along the side of the road before we hailed down the passing bus. Although we were at first unsure whether or not we would be allowed on-board - the Tibetan riots have been spreading like wildfire and all of Tibet has already been cut off - but fortunately no one said anything. (We would later find out that David tried to re-join us in Shangri-la, but was denied access in Lijiang, where all tour agents and bus companies were ordered to keep our foreigners.)

It was a four hour bus ride to Shangri-la (formerly known as Zhongdian before it was "discovered" as the location for the famous James Hilton novel, Lost Horizons, taking place in this region of China), and from the half-way point onward there were two ubiquitous sights: snow and military movement. We passed several hastily constructed military camps and convoys of transport trucks that were carrying soldiers into the "conflict areas." Given Shangri-la's location on the cusp of the Tibetan semi-autonomous region, it was obviously high on the government's list of places to keep in check. Of more immediate concern to me was the quickly dropping temperature: I had already returned the rented jacket and had only shorts and a nylon Arsenal-replica jersey to keep me warm.

We arrived in Shangri-la just after 10:00pm, and there were hardly any people on the streets or lights in the town. Fortunately, I had written down a couple of guesthouse addresses before leaving, and we caught a lift to one such place. Given that Shangri-la is basically the-end-of-the-line, and this is still low-season because of the cold, we got a fair discount on our accommodation. However, I would have been willing to pay juts about anything as I was freezing my ass off in the cold - it was several degree below zero! 

March 21, 2008

Tiger Leaping Gorge (CHINA)

And Then There Were Two... The First Day of Hiking Tiger Leaping Gorge in China's Yunnan Province

At 5:30 am this morning, I braced myself for the unpleasant and headed for the bathroom. I knew what was in store for me: an icy shower that would probably be my last for a few of days. Nevertheless, I couldn't resist "giving it a minute" in hope the water would magically warm up. Predictably, it did not.

Within the hour, I parted ways with the still-struggling David, writing down my entire itinerary with rendezvous points in case he decided against returning directly to Tokyo, and headed out into the crisp morning air with Neil. The only warm weather clothing I brought on this trip was an Arsenal soccer jersey that offered about as much protection as a "faith in the spirit of humanity" does in the warring areas of Afghanistan.

We walked out of Lijiang's old town, and hailed down the first taxi that passed along the road. It was a 20 minute drive to the newly constructed long-distance bus station where we bought two tickets for on a 9:00 am bus. Our plan was to hop off the bus in a town called Qiaotou, which is the unofficial starting point of one of Yunnan Province's more ambitious undertakings: trekking Tiger Leaping Gorge, which is 16km long and measures 3900m (2.4 miles) from the Jinsha River rapids to the peak of the surrounding Haba Shan mountains.

While waiting around in the lobby, I bought a cup of spicy ramen noodles (to warm up as much as anything) and began wondering if this trek was really such a good idea: there were half a dozen other foreigners in the waiting area, and all were dressed like they were preparing to climb Mt. Everest. Obviously, it would be cold at the higher elevation, but just how cold was a question that took on new gravity.

The two hour bus-ride turned into a four hour lesson in endurance as we dealt with repeated road closures and even a 45 minute traffic jam on what was no more than a one-way dirt road. There were construction trucks illegally (I presume) using the dirt-road in opposing directions, and with the queues behind each only growing, it was no surprise when our driver pulled his cap over his head to take a nap. I was in the front seat of the bus, which is always the most comfortable and always available because people never see it, listening to Neil's iPod on a one-song repeat of Akon's Smack That (a very bad habit of mine).

When we reached the turn-off for the trek we had to pay a 40rmb entrance fee, which was somewhat ridiculous considering this is not an official park. Instead, it is the local Chinese authorities realizing there is money to be made off people coming here, and who is going to stop them from charging people like me? The answer is no one, at least not in China.

Fortunately, there was a small guesthouse at the start of the trail that was being run by an Australian woman. After buying several Snickers bars "for energy when the going gets tough," I also enquired about renting a jacket. Fortunately, she took pity on me - she probably has a son of her own who is off doing something just as stupid elsewhere in the world - and loaned me her own jacket for only 10rmb ($1.50). I felt much better about my chances of surival (and enjoyment), and after leaving all my gear with her Neil and I set off on the trail with only a small daypack between us. The picture to the left shows the start of the "trail," which should give an idea of just how "official" and well-maintained everything was. Quite literally, the instructions offered by the Australian woman went something like the following:

"Pass by the small school up the road, and when you see mile marker number 194 turn left onto a dirt path. Follow it as best you can along the ridge, and there will be guest houses after roughly 4, 6, and 8 hours of trekking. Got it? Great! See you in a couple of days!"

After 30 minutes of up-hill hiking Neil began feeling the onset of altitude sickness, and we took a long break. Although it didn't appear to be a harsh case of AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness), he was clearly out of sorts. Neither one of us wanted to give up on the trek, so we lowered our targets for the day. Further, I carried all his things and we took a break every time he felt dizzy, which amounted to every 20 minutes or so. I wasn't too bothered by this turn of events because taking things slower gave me more of an opportunity to savor the breathtaking scenery - there were mountain peaks climbing into the clouds just across the gorge and the path itself snaked steadily along the mountainside.

After a couple hours of hiking we came across a small collection of shacks where, after returning a smile from a Chinese woman and exchanging a few pleasantries, she invited us over to rest. We were more than happy to take her up on this, and willing bought a couple bottles of water (most Chinese along the trail have learned it is useful to have things to sell.) After explaining that Neil was not feeling well, she brought us out Oolong tea and a plate of sunflower seeds as a token of kindness. Such generosity from a woman who has surely seen so little in her life was not lost on us, and we happily engaged her in conversation for the better part of an hour. Before leaving, we emptied a few packets of my Nescafe Instant Coffee (a necessary traveling tool) into hot water and used the caffeine boost to push onward.

We reached the Naxi Family Guesthouse at around 2:30 pm, and stopped here to have lunch with several other trekkers. There were a group of university students on vacation from Hong Kong, as well as a lone Finish hiker who ate with us. The guesthouse owner, who was a kind Chinese woman from the Naxi minority group, explained that this is the low-season for travel along the gorge. While only a dozen people passed by today, in the peak summer months the trail often sees as many as a hundred daily hikers. Personally, I enjoy nature far more when I am (relatively) alone with it, so I definitely got lucky in terms of the timing of my visit. As far as food prices, they were slightly more than I would pay in a big city, but nothing too unreasonable - 10rmb for a plate of fried rice, 20rmb for diced chicken/chilies/peanuts, and 15rmb for fried vegetables.

The next leg of the journey was definitely the most taxing, and included the infamous 24 Bends. This is a section of the trail where one climbs at a nearly 35 degree angle for half a kilometer. At first I counted the bends, or turns, but I grew too weary at around 10. Besides, continuing my count would have been pointless: there were 2-3 times as many "bends" as advertised (probably with the knowledge that no one would continue up this path if they knew the more realistic name would have been the 75 Bends). Basically, Neil and I had to take a break after every 4 turns, meaning the entire climb took us about one hour.

At the top, there was one of the more rewarding views of the day -both of the gorge below and the mountains opposite - which was only fair considering all we had gone through. At this point, we began walking with an American lawyer from San Francisco who was taking a 3-month leave of absence from his firm so he could tour Southeast Asia. Although he found his many adventures remarkable - and he was eager to share all of them - I could only smile and mutter innocuous comments like, "wow!" or, "that's amazing!" I suppose this is what happens when you have traveled the region so extensively. Anyway, what is important about this guy (I have already forgotten his name) is that I drilled him on law school questions for the next quarter-of-an-hour.  What is of particular interest to me is the figure that roughly 5-15% of law graduates are picked up by "big-name" financial groups (think: Goldman Sachs, Morgan Stanley, etc), and they usually come from the "big-name" schools. This is far more in-line with the kind of career path I want to take than working for a standard kill yourself until you make partner at the age of 50. Enough career stuff: I am the only one who cares about such things, and even I think of it out of necessity rather than interest.

By 6:00 pm we reached our destination for the day: the Tea Horse Guesthouse. It is just shy of the half-way point, but with Neil feeling sick it was nevertheless a real accomplishment to have made it this far. We sat out on the front porch, nursing a cup of hot tea, admiring the scenery just over the buildings (see below.) Obviously, after the tea I moved on to beer, and with a pot of coals at my feet to help keep me warm at the high altitude there could have been no better ending to the day...

Until I discovered my bed for the night had an heating blanket (which would prove infinitely handy the following morning.)

March 20, 2008

Lijiang (CHINA)

Touring the Tourist Mecca of Lijiang and David Spends Half the Day in a Chinese Hospital

As I am now nearing ten visits to China (中国 or literally, "Central Country"), I have long been aware of the charming town in Yunnan Province called Lijiang. Famous for its maze of cobbled streets, old-style wooden buildings, and flowing canals, it is little surprise that Lijiang draws nearly 15% of all the visitors to Yunnan - and in China, with a population of 1.3 billion, those numbers mean something.

Nevertheless, the throngs of tourists were not as bad as I was anticipating, in large part because Chinese New Year was only one month ago (when everyone takes off from work to travel or be with family), and the famous "May Day" is only 6 weeks away (when the entire country takes a one week holiday). So, I am visiting the country in the small window of time when the flowers and trees are in full bloom, the weather is perfect, and I can see the sights without the horror-factor of mobbing crowds. (God help those who visit China for the first time this August, but then again that will be an amazing time to see the country for different reasons).

This morning, David did not get out of bed to grab breakfast with Neil and I as he was complaining about feeling ill. I was not surprised as I heard him get out of bed twice in the night so he could vomit in the bathroom. As I headed out the door, I laid a few extra water bottles at the foot of his bed, and promised to bring him back something simple to eat.

Then, it was off to explore the town. I was handed a map by my guesthouse owner so I could begin learning my way through the winding alleys, and after taking a few wrong turns I developed a feel for the "main routes". Neil and I ate a typical Naxi breakfast (local minority people) at a restaurant near the town's main square, consisting of a Naxi Vegetable Omelet - goat's cheese, tomato, and fried egg between two pieces of fried baba. Baba is the Lijiang specialty, and is made of thick flatbread wheat stuffed with meats or vegetables.

The Naxi omelet was filling to eat, but what really occupied my attention over breakfast were all the Chinese I-want-to-be-a-professional-photographer tourists crouching in all manner of positions to take the perfect photo of a nearby canal. My trick? Point my brick-of-a-camera in the general direction, snap a photo, and move on. (Call me a minimalist, or just call me lazy, but my photos turn out fine.)

After making another long walk-through of Lijiang, I stopped at a small supermarket to buy David standard food, and returned to the guest house at around 2:00 pm. Unsurprisingly, he was still bed-ridden, and had a ghastly impression on his face. What was surprising was the news that he coughed up blood earlier in the morning, and whether it was because of excessive vomiting or something more serious we could not be certain. I decided to hang around for another hour or so, getting him to drink as much as possible, but when his condition showed no signs of improving we decided to get help.

Neil and I led him through Lijiang in search of a hospital, and were it not for my Mandarin-speaking ability we would really have been in a difficult position. The first hospital I found, which turned out to be no more than a clinic, was more suited to helping heat stroke victims and scraped knees than something like food poisoning, so they directed us into the city of Lijiang (outside the old town) where there was better treatment. (All directions, explanations, and conversations were being held in Mandarin, which was a far better test than any end-of-term examination one might receive in school).

After a 45 minute walk, we reached the hospital, and went through the entire process of explaining everything that happened -from the likely cause being food poisoning, to the repeated vomiting, to the blood - so we could see a doctor. Fortunately, after a 20 minute waiting period in the lobby we were shown into the doctor's office, and he seemed perfectly content to let me carry on with my Mandarin description of everything before he let it be known he spoke better English than my Mandarin. It was a welcome relief, as were his compliments on my speaking ability (and I didn't mind receiving them because it is often draining trying to exceed my limitations in a foreign language).

Anyway, the doctor was very helpful and prescribed medicine to calm David's stomach, and he also prescribed several bottles of nutrient-filled fluids to be administered via a "drip". If matters did not improve by the following day, of course he would take more drastic measures, but for now that would suffice. After everything that had happened, we were all happy that the end could finally be in sight.

The price of the medication (which I picked up at the front counter of the hospital), and indeed the entire hospital visit, amounted to less than $15, which is remarkable considering the extraordinary hospital bills in countries such as the United States or Japan. Granted, the medication was not "name-brand" and "labor is cheap" in China, but it still seems a remarkably low amount of money for what amounted to an eight hour hospital visit.

90% of the eight hours were spent in the "sick room", shown to the right, where David had a drip in his arm (along with over a dozen other sick Chinese people). Obviously, I stuck around for as long as I could, not to keep David company, but rather because I was enjoying all the attention from the other Chinese present, none of whom could believe there were three foreigners present with one of them speaking passable Mandarin.

When I finally left to grab dinner back in the old town, I was struck by the town's transformation: near the main canal there was absolute mayhem as local Chinese girls were dressed in traditional attire and trying to draw the swarms of tourists into their bar/restaurant. There was enough loud music, bright lights, and dancing people to create a scene of absolute mayhem, but I couldn't hang around for as long as I wanted because I felt bad for David.

At least I brought the poor guy some 4 rmb ($0.50) flowers, which as the picture below illustrates, improved my mood more than his.

Lastly, some video showing the inner-workings of a Chinese hospital. If nothing else, it is interesting because another situation will never arise again.

I did not get back to the guest house until well after midnight, and as David was not having the greatest time in China, he decided it best to head back to Japan early instead of continuing on with Neil and myself. Although his plans were not yet finalized on how to reach Tokyo, I have no doubt missing his girlfriend played a big part in his desire to return. The important thing is that it would be only Neil and I for the remaining two weeks of the trip - and those two weeks would start bright and early tomorrow morning when we would catch a bus to Qiaotou, the starting point of the famous Tiger Leaping Gorge trek.

March 19, 2008

Dali (CHINA)

Touring Dali One Last Time Before Catching a Bus to Lijiang

For a city I heard is a tourist stronghold, Dali turned out to be an extremely likeably city. Maybe I just got lucky with my timing - I can easily imagine the now-quiet streets inundated with people, killing off everything I enjoy about the city - but whatever the case, I am glad I spent a few days enjoying the pleasant scenery. However, there are other places to visit on this trip, and early this morning I purchased a 14:30 bus ticket to Lijiang, which is only four hours away by bus.

Before leaving, I made one final tour through the cobblestone streets, stopping to chat with the many vendors hoping to sell me various knickknacks and handicrafts. Unlike so many other places, the vendors didn't seem to mind that I wasn't interested in buying something, and rather than blowing me off they would actually take more time to chat. While I am by no means fluent in Mandarin (and I likely never will be), I am easily conversational, and holding 20 minute conversations is not as painful as it used to be. I suppose it goes without saying that visiting a country when you speak the language is infinitely more rewarding than doing so without speaking the language, but since the practicalities of life don't always make this possible, at the very least one should learn important phrases and a moderate amount of cultural background; the experience is infinitely more rewarding this way.

Below are a couple of pictures taken while the bus made a bathroom break at a small gas station between Dali and Lijiang. Beautiful, huh?

We arrived in Lijiang at 20:00 - with Japan as the sole exception, I have yet to ride a single bus in Asia that runs according to schedule - and since it was already dark out we were in a bit of a pinch as far as finding a place to sleep for the night. Certainly, there were plenty of touts at the bus station, but we instead teamed up with a Shanghai businessman from the bus and paid for a taxi into the old city. He called a guest house, and the owner kindly guided us along the many winding turns. Although it was only night, Lijiang reminded me of Venice in that there are small winding streets that are impossibly to navigate if you don't know what you are doing.

After checking into a triple room - again at a bargained-down price of only 30 rmb/person ($4) - we felt obligated to eat with the Shanghai businessman who was eager to have company for dinner. I was entirely opposed to the idea because I was really struggling to keep up with his "Mandarin" (he actually spoke the slang-ridden Shanghainese dialect), and for the next two hours I was the go-between guy expected to keep up with everything being said. This was basically like asking me to translate for a proper Scotsman - while he may speak "English", it can be nearly impossible to follow everything being said. Making matters worse, we were taken to an awful restaurant, but since the Shanghai guy was treating us I could not suggest another place. Needless to say, the food would come back to haunt us tomorrow...

March 18, 2008

Dali (CHINA)

Hiking the Jade Green Mountains Surrounding Dali

After having gone three consecutive nights without a proper bed to sleep in, I was out like a log last night and had some of my best sleep in a long time. By the time I finally got out the door, with Neil and David dragging behind and in obvious need of a caffeine jolt, it was 11:00 am, we hurriedly caught a taxi to the park entrance for the Jade Green Mountains. I wasn't sure where exactly we would head once inside the park, but I knew that some fresh mountain air and strenuous climbing would do us all a world of good.

Before taking the gondola deeper in the mountains, we stopped to have a bowl of noodles for breakfast at a small shop. The owners were an elderly Chinese man and woman who were all smiles once they realized I could speak Mandarin with them, and spared us the standard tourist prices on all the food. Plus, I bought half a kilogram of fresh grapes from a fruit stall, and washed them off with a bottle of water. This probably wasn't the cheapest way to go about it - the bottle of water cost nearly half the price of the grapes - but even seeded grapes are too tasty to pass up.

Soon, we were climbing into a gondola for the 15 minute ride to the start of the trail. I couldn't resist sharing the knowledge that, until three months ago, this gondola was closed down after a fatal accident. I could not remember if it was because a rope snapped, or if a gondola fell, but knowing people died as a result is what really mattered. I rocked from side to side trying to get Neil and David's heart's racing, but after the wind took over my job I started having regrets. (Obviously, there was a 99.9999% certainty that we weren't going to die, but when you are riding a chairlift in a remote part of China those kind of statistics do not mean as much.)

There was a strange assortment of Chinese Chess pieces laid out on a human-size playing board near the gondola station. Normally, I would scratch my head wondering why anyone would choose to build something like that up on a remote mountain, but where China is concerned many things are not worth thinking about.

Anyway, after alighting from the gondola we took followed the main trail into a small canyon that is full of waterfalls in the rainy season. Sadly, during the dry season the waterfalls are just that: dry. In retrospect, it may have worked out better this way because we were the only tourists for the day, and we had the entire mountain to ourselves. Plus, the views were nothing to complain about.

We had to stop for a break every 20-30 minutes because the altitude was getting to us, and the climb itself was no easy thing. Eventually, I decided to break off the trail so we could climb boulders along a ravine, and we ended up blazing this new trail for well over an hour.

Pulling each other up rocks while navigating massive boulders turned out the be the highlight of the day as there were times when we were scaling 15 meter rock faces. Most people have an innate desire to relive their childhood days of climbing trees and racing across jetties, and for several hours today I felt free to do just that. As much as I love the developed world, where rules reign supreme and childish tendencies are often kept locked up, today reminded me just how great it feels to run wild, so to speak.

Eventually we reached the mid-way point of the mountains, where continuing would mean climbing downhill on the other side of the mountain range, so we savored the view before beginning to retrace our steps backward. Going down the rocks turned into a lot more dangerous activity than going up because there were so many places where one could slip and cause serious injury. Obviously, none of us had a mobile phone and help would have taken some time to arrive, but we went slowly and everything worked out fine.

When we reached the main trail we decided to follow it for a while, which made for a pleasant finish to the day because it was built along the side of the mountain - providing great scenic views of over Dali and Erhai Lake.

Some of the photos from the mountain are shown below, and the colored leaves (shown to the left, when the sun was out) are indicative of the pleasant weather in early Spring.

At around 5:00 pm, just before the park closed, we caught a ride back to Dali for 20 rmb and searched out a restaurant for dinner. We were all famished as noodles and grapes were all we had eaten for the day, so we decided to forgo Chinese food for the night and splurge on Western food. We found a restaurant boasting a wood-fired oven, and with pizza, nachos, homemade cookies, and Tsingtao Beer in our sights, the decision was easy.

Below is video from the upper floor of the restaurant (which we had to ourselves). I couldn't help myself with the "dancing"...