China - 3 Friends, 4 Corners, Part II - Around Yunnan in 14 Days

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Chapter I - in which Mark Learns that All Benders Must Eventually Come to an End

With Chengdu, Beijing and Hong Kong benders firmly behind me and a two week jaunt in Yunnan to come, a detox was in order. And let me tell you, there is no better Betty Ford Clinic than 2 weeks of reading Jules Verne while perched on Himalayan mountain top (which I guess has influenced not only my China experience but also my writing style). Up first was Kunming. If I thought Chengdu was a backwater capital, Kunming took it to a whole 'nother level. It's really more of a urban town, set at the base of the mountains than anything resembling Gotham. Yunnan province is where China meets Tibet, meets Southeast Asia and is filled with ethnic minorities and cultural diversity. Plus since it's sub-tropical, yet in the mountains, the aptly named 'Spring City' is about as pleasant as you can get. I'd like to tell you about all the cultural activities and site seeing Hannah and I did in our two days there, but to be honest, we both took the time to recover from benders and sip tea in the first sunshine I had seen in China since.....well, ever. It was here however, that we formulated our simple trip motto: "Yes, enthusiastically."

Chapter II - in which Mark Gets Spit on Over a Matter of 4 Cents

Back in the fall, as I was preparing my release from Shanghai, I had settled on 2 possible destinations - Chengdu & Kunming. I finally decided Chengdu for living and Kunming for visiting. Now that I had finally seen the latter, I can pat myself on the back with relief. Now don't get me wrong, Kunming was fantastic. And while I'm not saying I'm exactly "fully applying myself" in Chengdu, it's just I would have been an absolute bum in Kunming. Chengdu is T.I.C. in all its weird glory, filled with loogie-hocking, tea-drinking, cigarette-smoking, Mandarin-speaking Chinese people. With Yunnan's unique (in China, at least) cultural diversity and beautiful scenery, I know I'd be getting a distorted view of the Han's warts 'n all society that has kept me so intrigued this year. Kunming is so relaxed and low key, it's amazing to believe that I actually got spit at over a matter of 4 cents - what can I say, I enjoy pretending to not speak any Chinese to see how quickly public bathroom attendants give up asking me for the 4 cent usage fee.

Chapter III - in which Mark Still Doesn't Want to Buy Traditional Bai Smokey from that Lady or her Infant

Yunnan is backpacker territory. Smelly, dirty, hippy backpackers, as far as the eye can see. But since hippies do not grow naturally in this part of the world, they need to be imported in, using pot as foreign exchange. I believe the ancient Bai city of Dali is considering officially changing its name to Hippyville. Here, traditional Bai women, wearing their traditional Bai headdresses that their traditional Bai ancestors wove in the traditional Bai method, ever so stealthily sidle in to extend a traditional Bai greeting of friendship: "you want smokey smokey?" Whether you're a smelly backpacker or on a senior citizen tour group, they're on you, even with their infant in arms, before you can even say "banana pancakes." I wonder if the tourist brochure they wave at you actually lists "hotel, cable car to the mountain, horse ride, bike rental, smokey" all in that order. In the time it took to wander Foreign Devil St (seriously) looking for a guesthouse after our first choice turned out to be a sign placed above a construction zone of rubble, I probably could have extracted weapons-grade plutonium out of these persistent pushers. But Dali's backpackers are on to something. The cutesy old town (provided you find it) is a surrounded by enormous stretches of emerald green farmland on the banks of Erhai Lake, all with the 4,000m Zhonghe Mountain rocketing upward in the backdrop. All the open countryside is just waiting to be poked around (on a bicycle that seemed moments away from completely falling apart on me), unlocking ancient Bai secrets, like the World's Largest Chinese Chess Board or Traditional Bai Sichuan noodle houses serving banana pancakes. I'm not sure why my bicycle karma has ferociously turned on me these days, with my bike in Chengdu falling apart by the day and crappy rentals in Beijing and Yunnan, but maybe it's because it knows I not-so-secretly covet a motorcycle - a forbidden fruit for foreigners in China.

Chapter IV - in which the Book is Always Better than the Movie

Next stop was the world's most uncomfortable overnight bus ride deep into the Himalayas to a little-known, secluded town in the heart of Tibetan country, called Gyeltang. Well, I should say it was little-known and secluded before the Chinese Tourism Empire officially changed its name to Shangri-La of John Hilton's Lost Horizon fame 10 years ago to drum up tourism, turning this once sleepy 1 monastery town into one more Tibetan circus act. Here you can look across the panoramic view Himalayan peaks, monasteries and prayer flags and just imagine its beauty before it was turned into a soulless, cookie-cutter replica of the Soviet bloc. But hey, at least they kept the old town. And by "kept," I mean kicked everyone out 4 years ago, razed every building to the ground and rebuilt them to sell tacky trinkets to cowboy-hat wielding Chinese tourists. After reading Lost Horizon myself, it's easy to see 1) why the Chinese endorse this view of Tibet 2) why smelly hippies dug the book and the term stuck and 3) why naming a repressive, communist police state after a mythical, modern-day Garden of Eden is a stretch, to say the least.

Chapter V - in which Mark Learns There Are No Dumb Questions, Just Dumb Places to Ask Them

Aside from giving Hannah a taste of Tibet (and I don't just mean a horrible tsampa/yak butter tea breakfast), I was particularly eager to get back to Tibet mere days after the Lhasa riots closed down nearly every Tibetan area in the country. What I was amazed to find was not how much you could learn by seeing it first hand, but how little you could learn even asking direct questions. I've learned the best way to ask sensitive questions in China is to casually bring up a subject and let the person take it from there. Not only did this indirect method not work, my direct questions were directly not answered, culminating in my being reprimanded in perfect English by a random Tibetan man for asking such questions, implying there were spies everywhere. With the all too frequent sight of the Red Army practicing its baton technique in the streets and stories of hostels' internet mysteriously going down followed by police visits after guests' sensitive google searches, it was easy why nobody was particularly chatty. I guess I'll just have to rely on CCTV9 for my news to learn how foreign reports of violence and Olympic Torch protests have been "greatly exaggerated."

Chapter VI - in which Negotiating Horse Riding Prices is the First Test of My Karate Skills

Back down at a slightly more comfortable elevation was the icing on Yunnan's cake. A three day trek 4,000m above the precipice carved out by the Yangtze River that forms the Tiger Leaping Gorge is now up there with Yangshuo for the title of Most Beautiful Spot in China. Our first day, all day, hike could only have been better had I not had to listen to that damn peasant following us up the entire way hounding me "you should ride this horse instead of walking. Yesterday all your friends (i.e. random foreigners) all rode horses. Englishmen, Americans, Australians..." Sometimes, showing you can speak Chinese can work against you. Aside from the horse guy hounding us, a peasant woman was ludicrously trying to charge 5元 to take pictures at a lookout point (in other words, standing there with her hand out asking for money). Apparently, playing the dumb-foreigner card doesn't work if she's already heard you chatting in Chinese, which landed me a vicious tongue-lashing. When we arrived for dinner at a guesthouse in the middle of the gorge, we saw there was really no reason to rush it, so why not hole up the next day reading and trying not to get too distracted by the ridiculous view of 5,500m Yulong Snow Mt right in front of our faces. That day we read some great books, like Around the World in 80 Days, Lost Horizon, Mao and one not so great book about a bike-riding, karate nerd in Tibet, who actually wrote that dealing with Chinese people yelling ha-llo! at her was "the first test of my karate skills." For more detail, please refer to the picture of Hannah voicing her displeasure, by figuratively using said book as toilet paper. You've heard of voting with your feet? Well, this is voting with your ass.

Chapter VII - in which Hannah Learns Why Drinking Baijiu is Usually a One-Time Event

Our last stop in Yunnan was the famous Lijiang, which was once a beautiful, famous Naxi village. I say "once" because Lijiang is now the climax of all that is fake and cheesy modern tourism. The old town is like the Venice of China, yet makes Venice's booming tourism industry look like a hack job. It doesn't take more than a pleasant stroll down 2 of the beautifully laid cobblestone alleyways before you realize that literally EVERY SINGLE store is an exact carbon copy, selling either fake, crappy "ethnic" clothing or fake, crappy trinkets. In high seasons, Lijiang is mobbed with literally thousands of Chinese tourists crowding the small lanes and alleyways to a standstill. With its perfect climate, romantic old town and view of the massive Yulong Snow Mt (southern view of Tiger Leaping Gorge's mountain), Lijiang is one of those rare places where it's impossible to take a bad picture. But if you're an antsy traveler, head elsewhere. As for us, we were fully relaxed after a long hike with sunny teahouses and amply entertained by Mama Naxi - the World's Craziest Hostel Owner - and baijiu filled dinners with Chinese tour groups.

Chapter VIII - in which Mark & Hannah Make a Spectacle of Themselves in Front of No Less than 500 People

It's nice to know that China can still surprise you. Just when you thought you've seen it all and made a big enough spectacle of yourself, there are places like Lijiang, teeming with weird Chinese tourists just itching to be entertained. They are confused by foreigners enough as it is, yet nobody at one noodle house had the slightest clue what to make of round after round of conspiring laowai coming in to order duck noodles by quacking - a method made even stranger considering the noodles were actually pork, not duck after all. The arrival of my new Sugar Mama and her new friends also gave us the chance to see a rare sight these days: a Cantonese chef, decked out in full camo gear, commandeering a noodle house's kitchen to cook up roots, while drinking liquor with ants in it. That night at the bar street, the simple decision to sit outside with our case of 40 cent beers instead of inside (3ft away) with its $7 beers gave way to Hannah, with her awesome new 2 Thumbs Up shirt, & I joining in on Chinese song battles and subsequently make a scene in front of no less than 500 people. While still nobody would give me 5元 to take a picture with the crazy foreigners, at least this time I could entertain them with driving a hard bargin.

Chapter IX - in which Mark & Hannah Discover Disneyland in the Most Curious of Locales

These two weeks in the culturally diverse Yunnan were an amazing insight to the hypocrisy of race relations in the People's Republic. It doesn't take more than a few flips through the Lonely Planet to realize that every 'ancient' tourist site is actually 10 years old, after the originals were razed by the Red Guard in the Cultural Revolution. But at least the communists showed no favoritism, purging and pillaging the Han as well as minorities everywhere equally. And while its wonderful to see that mistakes are being rectified and these villages are being built back up, I find it difficult to swallow this "celebration of diversity" being turned into one big circus act. Yunnan's minorities were savagely repressed and systematically demolished (my boss' friend Mr. Meng was sentenced to 12 years hard labor in the Yunnan countryside in the Cultural Revolution) yet now they are placated with an invasive tourism industry. I had to chuckle when our new friends on the big tour group taught me a CCP propaganda song translated "56 ethnicities, 56+ languages, 56 brothers and sisters in one big happy family..." as especially ridiculous in the wake of Tibetan riots and violent repression. The song in many ways sums up your Average Zhou's take on the situation: the CCP is helping their ungrateful, little, brown brothers and there is nothing wrong with swarming into peaceful villages and taking over - at least they're bringing in tourist dollars this time and not a reign of terror and death. Who cares if tourists in their fancy new cowboy hats muscle right through to the center of a Tibetan square dance and shove a flashing camera in people's faces? - "I'm paying you to dance, now dance, Rummy!" I'm not above the irony that America isn't without fault in our handling of indigenous people, but while we may have skeletons in our closet, China has a pile of rotting corpses in its living room. And if China is using the upcoming Olympics to showcase itself to the world, for better or for worse, it's going to get exactly what it wants: the world is certainly taking notice.

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