Traveling in Yunnan


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November 2nd 2014
Published: November 4th 2014
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Kunming

'How dare you?', I think. Someone behind me is rasping fiercely their throat. All at a sudden the peaceful quietness of the 1200 years old Zen Buddhist Yuantong temple is broken. How dare you?, is on my lips, while I turn around, expecting to see an on old unshaven man with a surplus of nicotine and saliva around his lips. But it is a young lady on high heels. Then I realize rasping and spitting is China's national sport. Chinese are rude, I heard.

But despite the ritual rasping of Chinese throats, we only meet friendly and helpful people here in Kunming. Like in our guesthouse Lost Garden near Green Lake Park.

That afternoon we walk in this park. Everywhere are groups of people moving on music out of speaker boxes. Elsewhere people are singing together. Some know the texts by heart, but most have a sheet. Everyone can join in. At least when you can sing Chinese. Linda, my wife, doesn't like it so much. As a Slovakian it reminds her too much of the old communistic time. I find it just cosy.

Wherever there is a public garden, however small, people come together to practice taichi, to fly kytes, to play mahjong, go or cards. Preferably for money. And in the evening the show goes on with musicians playing Ehru, the traditional Chinese violin, Tanggu drums and with singers with high pitched voices. Next morning it starts all over again. Once, while we had breakfast at 8 in the morning, we saw outside an old couple dancing a mix of waltz and tango on non-existing music. Chinese must be cultural people.

The cultural aspirations of the Chinese become clear enough when we see a show that evening, called Dynamic Yunnan by The Grand Original Native Song and Dance Ensemble. All the minorities of Yunnan were there with their traditional music and dances in a modern choreography of Yang Liping, the most outstanding dancer of China. Very cultural indeed.

When the Chinese don't dance, fly kytes or play mahjong, they sit together around round tables, drinking tea and making joy in one of the many tea houses. Once we walked in. Surrounded by all kinds of tea, teapots and teacups we drank our tea. We didn't understand what to do. The only thing that happened was that we got more tea. And as soon our cups were empty they were filled immediately with still more tea. Finally we got the idea it was an traditional way of torturing people. Like people are tortured by forcing them to drink gigantic amounts of water. So we finished after 8 cups, leaving the waitresses in astonishment that we didn't complete the full ceremony.

And when the Chinese don't dance, fly kytes, play mahjong or drink tea, they eat. We tried several restaurants. Sometimes we didn't know what we were eating, but it was always delicious. Like in Shi ping Huiguan where you can eat abalone and sea cucumber.

And finally when the Chinese don't dance, fly kytes, play mahjong, drink tea or eat, they are sick. But there is no any reason to worry about, because at every corner of the street are traditional clinics and pharmacies, where you can buy a plethora of herbs, roots, dried salamanders and toads, in short the whole scala naturae against any illness, disease, injury or mentally inconveniences like schizophrenia, post natal depression or loss of libido.

So, actually Kunming is a very pleasant city with its high trees, its cobblestones, its electric scooters and with its laid back gait in life. The young lady in high heels has found a public bin at last. She spits in it. Then she smiles at me. It is not so bad after all.

Chengjiang

Our driver turns his face to us. He says something in Chinese. No one word English. Like most people here. He smiles. We smile back. 'Ok', I say and put my thumb up. No idea what he is talking about.

I guess and hope he will bring us to Chengjiang, 65 kilometers under Kunming. To the Fossil Museum in the Geopark on the Maotian Mountain. The spot where geologist Hou bumped in 1984 into a raft of fossil animals no one had ever seen before. It turned out to be representatives of the so called Cambrian Explosion.

Two years ago we tried to visit the Burgess Shales in Canada, the most famous spot of Cambrian fossils. But we couldn't reach the quarry as there was too much snow in the mountains. So we don't want to miss it again. The site in Chengjiang is even better, older and more complete. It is an UNESCO world heritage site now. The only problem is no one knows where it is. Because no one ever visits it.

In the meantime we drive over a bumpy sand road through a village with open shops with second hand spare parts for cars. Our driver turns his head again. Says something Chinese. Smiles. Make up and down movements with his arm. I smile back. 'Very bumpy', I say.

We are crazy. Yesterday we were on the Plant and Bird Market in Yunnan. A lot of stallions with jade and amber with insects inside. Sometimes even a big scorpion. Absolutely fake. And suddenly there was a stallion with fossils. Beautiful fossils. An internal mold of an Jurassic ammonoid with a dazzling ammonitic suture line. Even an ammolite with splendid colors due to layers of aragonite crystals. 'Are they real?', my wife said. 'Definitely', I said. We left the stallion 50 Euro lighter. And now we are on our way to a museum in the middle of nowhere, of which the very existence is not even sure.

Once we are in Chengjiang our driver asks around for the whereabouts of our museum. No one knows. We cross the city, leave it at the other side, drive into a forest, a narrow path goes uphill. The Maotian mountain. 2000 meter high. And suddenly there is a modern building. 'Chengjiang fauna' tells the billboard at the entrance.

And then we stand eye to eye with all those strange creatures of the Cambrian Explosion: Hallucigenia, Opabinia, Anomalocaris...but also the famous Haikou fish, the oldest vertebrate, our grand grand grand ancestor. It is a wonderful meeting. And we didn't have even to pay for it.

Lijiang

The old town of Lijiang with its curled rooftops and red lanterns would have been beautiful, if there weren't millions of tourists every year. If the town weren't one big hotel-restaurant. If every other house weren't a souvenir shop where young ladies play clumsily an English mersey beat on traditional drums. If the taxi drivers knew the directions and didn't bring you to the middle of nowhere. And if the beer weren't ten times as expensive as in any other city in China.

The place you have to avoid most of all is the Old Market Square where thousands of Asians are tortured by loud would be guitar singers who sing their miserable songs from every restaurant with a rooftop. And unfortunately they all have such a rooftop. Actually it is better to skip the whole town at all.

The Jade Peak Monastery near Baisha

After a bowl of rice porridge as breakfast we leave for Jade Peak Monastery, half an hour North of Lijiang. It's nice warm while we are driving in the valley. The snow capped Xulong mountain range is at the background. Its highest peak is 5596 meter. I imagine how botanist Joseph Rock collected once his plants here.

We are welcomed by a group of singing Naxi women at the entrance of the monastery. As soon I put some money in the bowl in front of them, they stop singing and lean forwards to see how much it is. Too little, I guess.

The scent of incense and the nasal repetitive mantra's of the monks absorbs me. Buddha is everywhere, in the sculptures and in the complex tapestries with their endless repetitive drawings as if they were soundless mantra's. Prayer flags and big prayer mills remind me of a Tibetan monastery. Red and gold have the upper hand.

In a corner on the ground sits a boy. I guess he is 9 years old. A scarlet habit around his shoulders. He is praying. Loud and clear so that the lama can hear him. In front of him a book and a alarm clock with two big bells. When I pass him he turns his head without interrupting his prayers and laughs.

We go up and pass some magnolia's and ginkgo's, the holy tree of China. On top stands a Camellia tree, China's 'teaflower'. It is 500 years old. It's said it has 10,000 flowers. We cannot check it, because it doesn't flower at the moment. Luckily there is a picture on the wall with a lama sitting under the tree. It has a lot of red flowers indeed.

The Tiger Leaping Gorge

The toilets at the bus station of Lijiang are the dirtiest I have ever seen in the world. You have to sit over a gutter, which is supposed to drain all adjoining toilets. But the system is working that bad that every now and then the excrements of your neighbour come to a standstill just under your nose. There is one relief: at the background is music. Carmen from Bizet. 'Toreador, en garde! Toreador!'

The bus though brings us to one of the most beautiful spots I have seen: The Tiger Leaping Gorge, one of the deepest gorges in the world and part of the Himalayan mountain range. Around 3000 meter high. Not high indeed, but nevertheless very strenuous.

I was warned. Don't take it too lightly. Even when you are in a good condition, it's hard. Up to the Nuoyu village everything was fine. But then it started. You shouldn't do these things anymore when you are 67, I'm afraid. Just after the village we met a guide. 'How old are you?', he asked. He shook his head, when he heard my age.

I was exhausted when I reached the rim of the forest. No oxygen. My legs were shaking. And the worst part had still to come: the infamous 28 bends. And exactly there, on that very spot, there were horses. I am going to walk, I kept on saying, knowing it was impossible. Luckily Linda, my wife, arranged two horses.

Several times I thought I would fall together with my horse into the gorge. Specially where the road (well, that word is too much) took a bend. Halfway my horse refused to continue. I felt pity with the poor animal. So we stepped down, gave the owner his money and continued on our own legs.

Once on the top I hardly could enjoy the view over the mountains with down the Jinsha River as a little vein. After six hours walking we arrived at Tea horse trade guesthouse at Yacha village. Nice rooms, neat bathroom, hot showers, good restaurant.

After breakfast next morning we continued our hike. I hardly can describe how beautiful it was. The pictures will tell it. The sun still hiding behind the Xulong mountain range early in the morning. Slowly spreading its rays over the snow caps like a natural spotlight and finally filling the gorge with its light and warmth. I feel lucky and free.

Halfway we have a coffee break at Ben di wang village, at guesthouse Halfway. Afterwards we cross two waterfalls. Plants are still flowering. Edelweiss. And then it goes down. All the way to the road. After five hours we arrive at Tina's guesthouse, where there are buses back to Lijiang.











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