China – First Impressions Kunming to Dali

April 13 – April 23, 2009

Crossing the Border into China

We left Sa Pa early on one of the most fog-free mornings we'd had, snaking down through the terraced mountains to the town of Lao Cai, where we picked up our tickets for the bus to Kunming. We also picked up our 'guide' for the border crossing. She was dressed in tight pants and high-heels, carried a pink patent leather purse with a shiny buckle and spoke no English. The guy who gave us our bus tickets pointed to her and said: 'follow him.' And so we did.

We followed 'him' first through the border crossing, at which our bags were searched not once, but twice. The second time was after the x-ray showed some 'questionable' objects: tins of condensed milk that we'd bought in Vietnam hoping, perhaps vainly, that they might be melamine-free. When I opened my bag, the border guard pointed to them, indicating he wanted to have a look. Of course he could read neither the Vietnamese nor the English on the label, and had no idea what they were.

Fortunately, through a combination of sign-language and our helpful guide, we managed to get across the idea that the tins contained milk. Unfortunately, Vietnamese milk is not permitted entry into China. Under the counter it went. I hope he or his family enjoy it.

Bus to Kunming, Yunnan Province

bus ride to Kunming was spectacular, winding around mountains planted with bananas and pineapples, up and over high mountain passes, and through rural villages that looked in some ways similar to Vietnam, but much drabber. Red brick buildings with grey tile rooves; cement buildings with tin rooves. About half-way to Kunming the bananas and pineapples gave way to tea plantations. A little further on, as we climbed even higher, pine trees.

The roads were good – part of the way we traveled on modern highways. Although there didn't seem to be many cars on the roads, there were an inordinate number of very large trucks. Huge trucks with soft canvas tops criss-crossed with ropes that looked like they'd taken a long long time to tie. We also saw a surprising number of car transport trucks carrying mostly private vehicles or little trucks that looked more like toys than 'real' vehicles. We wondered where they were coming from...?

It was a long ride, made longer by a laughable traffic jam caused when two trucks which were anyway too big for the narrow country roads were unable to pass one another on the even narrower roads of a small town. Cars, trucks, motorcycles and carts of various descriptions either stopped behind the two trucks or tried to go around, turning the original rather simple problem into a snarled mess.

To add to the problem, many drivers, when the traffic came to a halt, simply abandoned their vehicles and went shopping, or to a cafe, or wherever. And there were several clusters of motorcycles parked almost in the road at various intervals, making it rather more difficult for anyone or anything to get around.

Apart from adding an hour to our journey, the traffic jam gave us an opportunity to witness the reaction of the Chinese to such inconveniences: surprising inefficiency and incompetence on the part of the 'traffic police,' and uncomplaining forbearance on the part of the people waiting on the road. Travelers just got out of their vehicles and stood or squatted by the side of the road, chatting, opening up picnic lunches, buying cold drinks and snacks from nearby stores.

Our bus driver took the initiative to walk the half-kilometer or so down the road to see what the hold-up was. We were the only passengers on our bus who did so – but we were also the only westerners on the bus. And the only ones who seemed to care.

Kunming, Yunnan Province

It was dark by the time we reached Kunming. We grabbed a cab and went to a hotel recommended in the trusty Lonely Planet. We were planning on staying in dorms in the hotel's 'youth hostel wing,' the most affordable accommodation we had found. When we got there the receptionist informed us that there were no mixed dorms (although their website had said they were all mixed dorms), so we would have to stay in different rooms. She could tell from our expressions (crest-fallen) that that didn't suit us, and offered us a private room for just $4 more. So for $20 we had our own room, with private bathroom, tv, etc. and a thermos of hot water whenever we wanted. We were happy.

Kunming is a wonderful city – very modern with the usual chrome and glass buildings cheek by jowl with older brick and mortar characters. But what struck us most was how clean and quiet and orderly it is. There are very few private cars on the road – most of the vehicles are taxis. There were a fair number of reasonably modern buses, reasonably full, but not 'packed to the gills.'

During the day, we saw almost no trucks in town. But the biggest difference from Vietnam is that there are almost no motorcycles. Furthermore, almost all the motorcycles we saw were electric. And, there are a lot more people walking and riding bicycles.

Kunming is a pedestrian paradise. Many streets have been closed off to vehicles, and others closed to all vehicles except buses. Where the cars used to be, in the centres of these streets, are now public mini-parks, benches, statues, pools, waterparks and cafes. It feels like a fair – or, dare I say, a mall – but outdoors. Very pleasant.

One pool right in the centre of town was chock filled with gold-fish. We watched as kids with little fishing rods caught the fish. They took them over to a little stand by the pool – the same one that rents the rods – and the gal there put the fish in a water-filled bag for them to take home.

Right beside that pool was another pool where kids could ride in little paddle boats. And not far from there was another pool where kids (or adults) could drive remote-control boats. We were tempted... .

What impressed us most about Kunming was how modern it all felt. Not just the architecture, and the cars, and the various systems that keep cities running, but the people. People were dressed in modern clothes – whether it was haute couture or leisure wear or punk styles or jeans and t-shirts – all of it was stuff you might see anywhere in the western world. Hair-dos ranged from purple spikes and frizzy perms to classic tight pony-tails.

The people of China are COLOURFUL! And they move and talk and laugh and carry on just like westerners. We felt, when we were in Kunming, that we could have been in San Francisco, Vancouver (but warmer) or any other western city. But... there's hardly a word of English spoken. The only place we found someone who spoke English was at the Bank of China, at the wicket where foreigners can exchange travelers cheques.

We did have a wonderful experience as we were looking for somewhere to cash our cheques. We stopped at smaller branch of the Bank of China, where an armed guard smiled broadly and swept us into the office of a fresh-faced young woman who looked like she'd just come from a day's walk in the country. She invited us to sit down, and he brought us two paper cups of hot water. We were guests! The young woman's cheeks flushed a deep pink as she struggled to explain to us that we should go to the main branch of the bank to cash our cheques. At one point she apologized for her 'poor English,' which was actually quite good, and pointed to her cheeks, saying “I am so nervous!”

We said: “Oh no, your English is very good, and you've been most helpful!” We were ready to leave, but she insisted we drink our water. The guard, who'd been standing within earshot, chimed in. Although he was speaking in Chinese, it was clear he wanted us to stay and drink the water which was, after all, his offering. It was a charming experience, and gave us a glimpse of Chinese hospitality. We've had many more since then.

Bus to Dali, Yunnan Province

We caught another bus heading north up to Dali, a smaller town, at higher elevation, that we'd heard was a pleasant stop. The ride there was fortunately much shorter, in a massive double-decker bus, and mostly on a fast freeway.

Not too far out of Kunming we passed through the Valley of the Dinosaurs, where apparently some major dinosaur finds have been made. What was really fun was that almost all of the little white houses had big colourful dinosaurs painted on one – or two – of their exterior walls. They were big enough to be seen from quite a distance – maybe 15 feet high and 20 or 25 feet across – taking up the entire wall of the house.

Several kilometers later we passed through a village where all the houses had mushrooms painted on their walls. We guessed that's what they were known for. The mushroom and dinosaur house decorations showed a sense of fun and whimsy that we wouldn't have associated with China – what fun!

About half-way we stopped for a refreshment and toilet break. This is where readers who do not like graphic descriptions of sanitary facilities should skip the next few paragraphs. The 'WC' was the most appalling toilet I have ever been in – anywhere, in any country of the world. Absolutely unbelievable.

The building was a cement block, with a door for men's toilets on the left and women's on the right. I had to pay to get in – 1 yuan, or 20 cents. And that did not include so much as a square of toilet paper. You've got to bring your own. But I've traveled enough in developing countries, and specifically in Asia, to make a habit of always having a wad of tp with me.

I entered the women's through a small anteroom with three sinks. I could smell the stench of urine and shit even before I entered, but it became more overpowering as I sallied forth. The toilets were two sets of squatters, one against each wall, facing one another across a n open space. There were no doors on the toilets.

I walked down the line of toilets, many with women squatting and doing their business. Of the 'free' toilets, all were filled with shit and used toilet paper. I looked across the aisle to the other side of toilets. Same thing. By this time I was feeling almost sick with the smell. What to do...?

It was all I could do to squat down over the disgusting mess in the squatter underneath me and pee. I looked up to see the woman directly across the aisle from me, also squatting and doing her business, staring at me with unabashed curiosity. I assume she was wondering, 'Do westerners pee like we do?' I hope I satisfied her curiosity. I was up and out of there as fast as I could manage.

There was no water to flush the toilet and no water in the sinks for washing. That might have 'explained' the disgusting state of the toilets. But so far we've found that all public toilets in China are more or less the same. Many are no more than a cement trough that everyone squats over. Many have had no water running through them to carry the urine and shit away – and where would it go in any event? A few have had hoses somewhere outside for those who want to rinse their paws.

I felt sick and unclean for at least an hour after I used that toilet. I was also outraged. How can a country that is so advanced and modern in so many ways still have public toilets like this?
Surely they can do better than this! And why aren't they dying like flies of illnesses like dysentery and cholera? We'd heard about the foul public toilets of China before we got here. But it's still been a shock to actually see and 'experience' them.

We did make it to Dali, where we shared a taxi with a young couple from Holland who, like us, wanted to stay not in the 'new city' of Dali, amid characterless glass and steel and cement buildings, but in the old town, around 7 km further north.

Dali, Yunnan Province

Dali is perhaps one of the most charming and photogenic cities we've ever seen. It has a quaint, traditional character – an almost medieval feel – with little evidence of modern development.

All of the houses and buildings are white, two-stories high, and often share a wall with their neighbour. Many of their exterior walls are decorated with Chinese paintings – mountains and clouds, bamboo groves, trees – in black and white. These are contained within formal black borders to it almost looks like someone's hung a huge Chinese calligraphic painting on the house.






All of the houses have dark corduroy-tiled rooves with up-swooping corners – like wings. And beautiful intricately carved wooden doors, most left natural, but some painted bright red or orange. We even saw one set of purple doors.

The houses line streets of austere beauty – wide cement sidewalks on either side of the road extend right to the edge of the houses. But the starkness is almost invariably broken by a line of trees. And even more disrupted by a plethora of activities. Shops and restaurants literally spill out onto the sidewalk. On either side of our hotel it's wood carvers – men and women making tables and chairs, sawing up pieces of wood, chiseling in the patterns, filing surfaces smooth.

A little further down there are several cafes, where the owners place 15 or 20 plastic tubs on the sidewalk filled with the various things they're serving that day – fresh veggies of all description, many kinds of mushrooms, tofu, live eels, noodles. You just point to what you want, and they cook it up.

And then there are the little knots of men, or women, or mixed groups, sitting on little stools around small tables playing cards or Chinese dominoes, right in the middle of the sidewalk. Or women sitting knitting as they watch their kids playing with a bit of wood, a pair of scissors. Life happens on the streets.


The old part of the city, the part within the great stone walls, is very touristy. Chinese tourists arrive at the gates to the city by the bus load. They take photos of one another standing with the girls in beautiful ethnic costumes. Or they rent the costumes and put them on themselves for photos.


Then they parade in throngs along the main street, which is lined on both sides with little shops and boutiques selling silver jewelry, colourful clothing, tea, marble 'paintings' and gaudy knick-knacks. They look at the silver jewelry and the clothes. They buy the gaudy knick-knacks.

Chinese tourists, like tourists everywhere, tend not to venture too far off the beaten track. So it's easy to wander down lanes and alleys and enjoy quieter parts of the old city, parts that have not been glitzed up and boo-tiqued. Cobblestone streets, old wooden gates, small gardens, and curious but friendly locals.

On one walk we came upon a small community temple where there had just been some sort of gathering. A few people were still in the 'kitchen' – a long row of cylindrical 'fire pits,' on top of which rests a big steel wok. Two gals were doing dishes while a guy swept the temple compound with a wispy broom. There was smoke everywhere from the burning of paper offerings. From the quizzical looks on the faces of the few people there, we assumed the temple attracts few visitors.

A little further along we came to a lane with a tall stone wall on one side and a little river on the other. Homeless people have made this lane their own. There were little piles of stones at intervals along the wall where each person had lit their fire and boiled their tea, or cooked their meal. The wall was blackened by the fires through its entire length. When we were there, mid-day, there was only one fellow trying to light a bit of kindling under a battered pot. We wondered how many more might be there by nightfall.

Our Hotel: the MCA Guest House in Dali

One of the best things about Dali is our hotel, the MCA guest house. We have a great room that looks out onto a garden courtyard with a pool. The pool was full when we got here, but after turning a brilliant shade of green it was drained, and is now slowly refilling.

The staff is friendly and the service is good. We have hot water and tv. If we could understand Chinese it would be worth watching. We have wifi, just outside our door (and a couple of chairs to sit in while we use it). And there's a restaurant (well, food is served, wherever you want to sit, indoors or out) that serves adequate, if not wonderful, food.

We've met several other travelers, shared stories, and gathered valuable information and tips for our onward journey. From here we'll head further north to Li Jiang, Tiger Leaping Gorge and Shangri La. In Shangri La we'll ask around about tours to Tibet. Depending on what we find, we'll either go, or satisfy ourselves with visiting the ethnic Tibetan villages in China, which are closer, easier to get to, and do not require us to join a tour or buy a special permit to visit....