Home Is Where the Heart Is

Yunnan Day 9. Last day.

Breakfast. We considered going to the same old main square restaurant for more noodles and eggplant, but we decided to forgo those gourmet treats and look around for someplace else. Soon we came upon this sign…

…indicating that our host in Tiger Leaping Gorge had opened a café in Shangri-La. We were surprised that he didn’t tell us about it when we said we were coming here. The place had pretty much the same menu as his place in the gorge, and this one is run by his sister.

After breakfast, we returned to our hotel. I sat in the sun on the veranda while FII decided to climb the steps to the nearby temple.

After descending to the main main square, he noticed what seemed to be a typical Sunday morning gathering of old friends.

Fortunately, lunch time was approaching so we headed over to N’s Café. I had indeed dreamed about the pizza we had there yesterday, so I wanted to have it again. When we got there, several people were eating, but the owner said he could not serve anyone else because the electricity just went off. So we wandered around, looking for another place to eat. We came across a little bistro place named Olive something, but although the doors were open, the owner said they just today returned from vacation and won’t open for business for a few days. She recommended another place around the corner, but when we went searching for it, we failed to find it.

Not wanting a repeat of our faux pas on Day 1 leaving from Beijing, we decided to skip lunch (a sin against Nature) and grab a taxi back to the hotel. We picked up our bags – the bill had been paid in advance – and took the same taxi to the airport.

It looked like a brand new airport, clean, fancy, and empty. I wondered if we had the wrong airport. Could Shangri-La have two? We waited for a couple hours and a few people started to show up. When we went to check in, the clerk said she could find only one of our reservations. It took at least 15, maybe 20, minutes to get it sorted out, during which I spoke with my travel agent, the clerk spoke with my travel agent, the clerk spoke with someone on the phone for quite a while, the clerk left the desk for a while to go into another room. Perspiration dotted my brow.

I’ve run into this problem several times in China. I think it’s due to the antiquated computer systems, hardware and software, that they use. They are slow, inefficient, and sometimes inaccurate. Everyone here, however, tells me how much better it is than it used to be. I think this place requires more patience than I have in reserve.

The flights back to Beijing were uneventful, as was the adequate dinner we had at the Kunming airport. Because our original return non-stop flight from Li Jiang to Beijing had been canceled, our arrival in Beijing ended up being about midnight. Arriving around 10 p.m. is fine; arriving after that is not. The reason for this is that the last subway train from the airport to the city is a little after 11 p.m., and if you don’t get to the airport early enough, you have to take a taxi. Exiting the airport is slower than most places because they scan every bag as you leave, so there’s generally a moderately lengthy line just getting out of Customs.

When we got to the taxi area, at least 200 people were in a winding line, waiting to get taxis. I remembered there was an express bus to the city, so while FII waited in the taxi line, I went over to the bus ticket area where there was a line of about 50 people waiting to buy bus tickets. I didn’t know whether this was the right place for the right bus, so I went up to the window to ask. The 25-year-old customer translated for me. It was indeed the right place, and how many tickets did I want? I gave a sheepish look to the translator, not meaning to butt in, and said “two.”

No one seemed in the least bit perturbed that I butted in line. I called FII over to the bus line where we waited for a few minutes. A tour-type bus approached and we got on, wrestling with our suitcases and backpacks. We don’t know why they didn’t open the luggage compartment.

The bus was supposed to take us to the Friendship hotel, which is about 5 long blocks from our school, but the bus driver didn’t speak English and so we couldn’t tell him where we wanted to get off. Finally, we imposed upon this young woman in front of us to find out where the Friendship Hotel stop is. Eventually we got a stop where the bus driver informed the woman, who informed us, that this was our stop. I did not see the Friendship Hotel, but we got off anyway.

We were deposited at a bus stop on the 3rd Ring Road with several others, all of us trying to get a taxi. After about 10 minutes we got one, showed the driver my business card, and we took off. Fifty-seven RMB later we arrived at the school, then walked the 300 meters to the dorm, arriving there about 1:45 a.m.

Home at last. It was a wonderful trip and neither FII nor I will forget it soon, not until we’re overcome with Alzheimer’s, which sometimes seems to be just around the corner, if my memory is an indicator.

保罗

39 Steps x 2

This was our last full day in Yunnan Province. We were both tired, and though all the tour people said we MUST take the cable car up to the snow-capped mountain, FII and I decided that we didn’t really need to do that because we had already done much hiking in the snow-capped Rockies. Many Chinese tourists, however, come here to see snow, which they generally would not see where they live.

Lynn Ebersole, in a recent comment to “Our Men in Havana,” noted that there are several Shangri-Las. (Or would the ancient Romans say Shangri Lae?). There used to be none. Then, in 1933, James Hilton published the book Lost Horizon and then “real” Shangri-Las” started popping out of the woodwork. In 2001 Zhongdian County was renamed Shangri-La County, with the capitol now metamorphosed into Shangri-La. This was done to increase tourism in the area, and it clearly worked. In the simple map below, the dark gray map in the upper left part is China; going clockwise, the next map is of Yunnan province (including the yellow part); finally, you see the yellow area expanded, and Shangri-La County is in pink.

It was 8 a.m., and FII and I were hungry (as we are every other minute of the day). Our little Tibetan inn did not have a dining room or kitchen of any kind, so we were forced to head out and try to find a place serving breakfast. We walked up…

…and down,…

…looking for the “old” main square as opposed to the new main square where we were yesterday. Some of the streets were heavily decorated with Tibetan prayer flags.

We didn’t think it would be difficult to find this square, given that there were excellent street signs everywhere.

More than most places in China, this town had shops with interesting names, some of which we could decipher…

…and others we could not.

Finally, we stumbled upon the old main square where we found almost all the restaurants, bars, and shops closed. There was a tiny little “restaurant” that seemed open,…

…so we went in. There were 5 or 6 small tables, and at the one in the center, next to the warming stove, of course, were two women, clearly the people who worked there. The brought us a couple menus that had vague English translations. No French toast or pancakes. No bacon and eggs. Neither oatmeal nor muesli. So we ended up with a bowl of soup with noodles, vegetables, and yak meat…

…and stir-fried eggplant in a dark sauce.

After that stunning breakfast, we strolled, glacially, around the mostly empty streets, looking at the mostly closed stores, enjoying the mostly interesting store names. This one caught our eye (or is that eyes?)…

…though it turned out to be a common bar.

For all we know, this could be a bar, too, but its doors were closed.

After heavy debate, FII and I finally came to agreement on what this store sells.

Because stores began to open, we decided to continue our survey of the town, exploring the wide, smooth streets,…

…stumbling along narrow, bumpy streets,

…and squeezing (at least myself) through the alleys,…

…marveling at the wide variety of dried mushrooms in so many of the stores. Yunnan is known for its mushrooms.

There were also less conventional cooking ingredients.

Anyone know what a Lotteby is?

We returned to our hotel where we sat on the upstairs veranda, trying to figure out what Lotteby is and how to use lizards in American cuisine. We watched everyday life…

…and special, holiday life. In the photo below, there is a cloud of smoke rising from the temple on the distant hill. We think this was from the non-stop barrage of firecrackers.

After a bit of reading and napping in the sun, lo and behold!, it was time for lunch. We walked around, looking at menus of restaurants, finally being enticed by the menu of this quaint, and empty, place.

Enticed but not completely seduced. This was one menu I was compelled to photograph.

Yak tongue, yak tripe, pig’s head, and, of course, cucumber (you know how I feel about cucumbers!) were interesting but not particularly appealing. And we didn’t think we could eat an entire grilled goat,…

…though we did end up ordering the twice-fried potatoes, as well as some soup, roasted mushrooms, and a whole barley dish (or whatever).

I should point out that this was the first (and thus far the only) mushroom dish in China that was less than yummy. The mushrooms had this very dry, powdered barley on top that, while not horrible, detracted from the good mushroom flavor. It made your mouth so dry you puckered up and looked like a fish. We scraped it off as best we could. Soup was good; whole barley dish was quite good. All in all, as you see, we enjoyed this meal, as we have all the others.

FII and I had only this one remaining afternoon in Yunnan. We heard or read that the thing to see in this area, other than the snow-capped mountains, was the Ganden Sumtseling Monastery, the most important Buddhist monastery in southwest China. We got instructions on how to get to the monastery, so we left old town Shangri-La for “modern” Shangri-La to catch bus #3. After making inquiries of 2 or 3 people, we found the appropriate bus stop. This would be our only tour through “modern” Shangri-La, where we saw a few interesting things, such as these guys playing pool on the sidewalk…

…and this enterprising soul selling the opportunity to sit on a yak and have a photo taken.

At the end of this bus line, everyone (3 or 4 of us) was asked to depart. We saw across the street a large building so nondescript that we don’t even have a photo of it. We wondered, could this really be the famed Ganden Sumtseling Monastery? We walked around the building’s courtyard a little, but there wasn’t much to see and nothing worth photographing, except this jade (?) toad with a coin in its mouth in the entranceway to a small museum.

There was a cost to enter the museum proper and we, being of the Frugal Tribe, declined. We were about to write off the whole journey as a bad mistake when we saw a small sign that said something along the lines of “monastery information.” We climbed the steps and found a place that said something akin to “Buy Your Monastery Tickets Here.” The girl asked for my passport, and I asked how much were the tickets to the monastery and she said 125 RMB. As she was leafing through the passport, she must have seen something special on my visa because she ended up charging us only 75 RMB each.

We went through the turnstile and hopped on the special monastery bus that eventually took us up the hill a ways until we saw something a little more impressive than the welcoming building with the small museum.

There’s one thing you can say about the Tibetan buddhists: they’re not afraid of using color in their decorations. This is the entrance to the monastery.

They also have colorful and descriptive warnings.

After passing through the colorful entrance, we are met with exactly what I had feared: steps. Lots of them.

It was the classic battle between exhaustion and ego. Did I have enough energy to keep from embarrassing myself? Fortunately, yes.

I was relieved to see that I was not the only one who had to sit down as I reached the top.

Looking around me while I huffed and puffed, I saw a large courtyard, which, it turns out, is the only place you can take photos up here.

No photos are allowed in the temple rooms. Other rules: (1) when entering a temple, you must not step on the large beam going across the bottom of the entrance, and (2) you must circulate through the temple in a clockwise direction. There are always lots of Buddha statues everywhere, as well as candles and fruit (for the Buddha).

At the back of a temple’s room there is usually a narrow walkway that allows you to continue, in a clockwise manner, to the other side. FII and I were going along one of these passageways when I saw a large number of plain whit candles immediately to my right. I leaned over to try to get a whiff of its odor, upon which a monk rushed up to me, emphatically shaking his head, and waving us onward. Now I’ll probably end up spending a little time in Buddhist purgatory.

Time to go home. Down the steps, back to the bus area. We got on the special monastery bus to go back to the welcoming center where we’d catch #3 city bus. We got on the bus, but it wasn’t ready to leave, so we had time to relax a little, looking at the people outside the bus…

…and inside.

This picture of the mother and daughter gives you a better idea of the little girl’s interesting hair style, which I’ll call the My Favorite Martian Do.

Then we noticed that we were supposed to be cleaning the bus, so we got up and washed the windows.

We made it back to the Happy Garden Inn just fine, and loafed some more before going to dinner. We decided to follow the recommendation of someone we met at Tiger Leaping Gorge, so we went to N’s Café.

We split 1 yak burger, which was excellent, and a small, thin-crust, fresh tomato pizza, which was even more excellent. I think I dreamed about that pizza all night.

After dinner we moseyed over to the old main square where we saw the traditional evening dancing. (We saw this also in Li Jiang.)

You see that the local people dance in the inner ring, while the tourists dance outside.

保罗

Our Men in Havana

I know you’re all sitting on the edge of your seats, waiting for my report from Japan, but I thought it would be silly to start that without finishing Yunnan first.

Yunnan, Day 7

When I first put together this Yunnan schedule, I envisioned FII and me waking up early this day at Sean’s G.H., anxious to be on the road to Shangri-La. Au contraire, mes amis. By this time we had become fully enchanted by this part of China that I think we could have stayed another week – FII hiking with the guides while I struggled to keep up, all the while thinking of Lily’s mushroom soup.

So instead of rush off early in the a.m., we loafed around Sean’s for a while until, as promised, Sean’s driver took us to Shangri-La (about a 3-hour car ride). It was a marvelously scenic ride, with stunning views of our mountain destination,…

…until we were finally deposited at our new abode, the Happy Garden Inn in Old Town Shangri-La.

This is the lobby of this Tibetan-style place, colorful and quaint.

At the far end was a small table on a raised platform with a photo of you know who nearby.

To get to our room, we had to walk through the lobby into the inner courtyard,…

…up the stairs to the left, across the little veranda, then around to the right. Our room was more colorful than the lobby, reminding us of our imaginary images of an Italian bordello.

Note that the bathroom door is completely glass, obviating the need for imagination when it comes to in-house voyeurism.

Between the two beds was a cute little rock garden under glass…

…that lit up at night, giving the appearance of an Italian bordello.

Sitting on top of the lobby was a little deck with a few chairs (none very comfortable)…

…where FII and I spent more time than we should have sunning ourselves while reading, smoking cigars (me), and napping (FII).

This is the picturesque view from our bedroom window…

…and, as you might expect, the sign caught our attention and we vowed to pay this establishment a visit during our 2 days in Shangri-La.

Because it was lunch time when we checked in, as soon as we dropped our bags off in our room, the young hotel clerk led FII and me, as well as a lone Japanese tourist, to a nearby restaurant that was nondescript on the outside…

…but homey on the inside…

…where the 3 of us ate thin strips of yak cooked in a cone-shaped thing (coals in the middle) with meat, vegetables, and broth around the perimeter.

After lunch, FII and walked around the old town a bit,…

…admiring the signs,…

…ending up at the main square…

…where the museum dedicated to the Long March is located. Being free, we went through it, and every few feet we were reminded through signs,…

…paintings,…

…and other stuff…

… just how heroic this retreat was.

Also on the main square was a Tibetan temple…

…that I knew I would never climb inasmuch as I could barely climb the steps to our hotel room. FII eventually made the hike to the top where he was bombarded constantly by firecrackers.

After the museum FII and I sought out the Women’s Handcraft Center,…

…which turned out to be a combination local people’s handcraft store and community library. The store had some very nice but not very cheap things, such as these small, painted, wooden bowls, etc.,…

…and the library had, well, books.

Late in the afternoon, the young hotel clerk asked us if we wanted to see a traditional Tibetan dance program during the evening. I’ve had enough rip-off experiences in my short life that I was initially a bit skeptical. We negotiated the price, which turned out to be 50 RMB each for FII and me, I believe. Despite many reassurances from the hotel guy there would be no more costs, we ended up having to pay for transportation, also (though not much, about $3).

I was still expecting a rip-off when we arrived at this large place that seemed to serve the dual purposes of Tibetan dance hall…

…and Tibetan commune.

Like ever other event in the world, someone ran up with his own camera to take our pictures as we were greeted by the official greeter. I was certain someone would approach us later to see if we wanted to buy them. I’m going to consult my friend and attorney as to whether we should file a lawsuit through the Chinese government for invasion of privacy, if in fact they have such a provision in Chinese law.

We were “given” white silk scarves and ushered into the hall and given seats on a bench in front. Except for us and a couple others, the place was pretty much devoid of guests.

Soon, however, 2-3 tour buses arrived and the place filled up with Chinese tourists purportedly from Kunming, the capital of Yunnan Province. I’m pretty sure we were the only non-Chinese people in the joint.

We had the option to buy dinner there, but we declined, being two of the more frugal people in the area. Most of the Kunming tourists had arranged to have dinner there, so the hosts brought out a few whole, roasted pigs, then cut them up in a grand show in front of these guests. So, while almost everyone else there had roast pork,…

…FII and I had roasted seeds of some sort,…

…served to us by this pretty Tibetan girl.

Note the different physical features, also evident in this Tibetan singer,…

…from northern Chinese people. Tibetans, to my eye, have lower cheekbones, stronger jaws, and thus a more rugged appearance.

There was lots of Tibetan singing…

…and dancing,…

…and we were even treated to a surprise visit from Davy Crockett.

Toward the end of the show, the performers enticed everyone, including FII and me, into this long, serpentine conga line accompanied by loud, easily forgettable Tibetan music. I have only this one photo of that artistic miracle because I was too busy recording the whole thing with my camcorder. Wanna see it? Come to Beijing.

As we all were filing out, these two girls accosted FII and me requesting to have their picture taken with us, the rarest species in the room.

As we were returning to our hotel, I told the hotel clerk, who was with us the entire evening, that it was wonderful and that we greatly appreciated his arranging this. That’s when he hit us up for more money – for the taxi ride home.

保罗