To Dally in Dali

The Data on Dali
Back around the time of the Tang and Song dynasties (618-1279), for about a half century Dali was a power center, a place of culture and commerce. It had its ups and downs, including an overlong visit from Kublai Kahn and Company. Then, not so long ago, while still largely unknown to the traveling public, Dali gained some discreet fame as an out-of-the-way rough-and-ready spot for trekking western backpackers to put in some hanging-around time. But, like so many other smaller cities of charm in this now open nation, in recent years word got around and now most of the rougher edges have smoothed to accommodate more comfort-minded visitors and their cash.

Today, along the bar and restaurant-lined pedestrian streets at the center of things, food and drink varies from the local Bai cuisine, to burgers, pizza, full-blown continental and (remarkably) perhaps the most delicious tacos this California expat has ever sampled (at Café de Jack near “Foreigners’ Street” on Boai Road). A modern mountaintop airport services the area, as do nonstop air-conditioned buses and trains. The mercantile center of Ancient Town, with its streetside aqueduct, stone walkways and festive lighting, to a pleasant extent has taken on a Disney-like quality.

Today, welcomed by the exceeding friendly locals, Chinese and Western tourists pile into Dali. Like Disney World, the main pedestrian boulevards pack up at peak times. And, like so many other places in China and beyond, the roaming peddlers are plentiful and persistent. The crowds can become something of a hindrance, and the peddlers may try the patience of a non-customer to the point of loss.

Still, the town is a pleasure and if one gets enough of the center of things, nearby touring opportunities await.

The World Class Walk
Overlooking Dali and the adjacent Erhai Lake is Cangshan Mountain. Ranging more than 50 kilometers, and with an average elevation of about 3,500 meters, the highest of Cangshan’s 19 peaks reaches 4,122 meters (13,397 feet). Gracefully threaded along sheer cliffs and swooping hills is an extraordinary sidewalk of remarkable engineering.

The “Jade Belt” (Yudai Lu) is about 18 kilometers in length, eight feet wide, and the carefully crafted granite promenade meanders below the misty ridgeline thousands of meters above Dali. The slate-like walk remains pool-table level as it winds in and out of the canyons, past waterfalls, monasteries, pagodas, and over some of the 18 rivers that carve through the mountain. Near the north is a humble but apparently safe chairlift that cables passengers about 25 minutes up and into the mist above. At the south side is a state-of-the-art Austrian-made gondola gracefully lacing ground to sky, peak to peak.

Way up there on the granite Jade Belt, on an otherwise clear day with the peaks shrouded in mist, among lush rainforest-like foliage, with waterfalls splashing past pagodas and white-water rivers flowing thousands of feet below, perhaps with no other person within miles, and no sound of civilization, a stroll along this marvelous walk may bring one to a near mystical experience (or at least to a great view).

The Languid Lake
Shaped something like an ear, and with a Pinyin name that perhaps coincidently infers the shape, Erhai Lake is at the center of things. The placid body of water extends 41.5 kilometers south to north with a shoreline circumference of 116 kilometers. From the surface area of 250 square kilometers the waters drop to an average depth of about 11 meters. Besides the city of Dali near the southern shore, villages, temples and rice fields reach to touch the calm shoreline. During the rice harvest, the glowing golden fields stretching from lake to misty mountain present perhaps that most Chinese of rural images.

And so while well-fed slow-moving westerners and Chinese tour groups lounge and roam the nearby stone streets of Dali, local farmers toil in the fields for a daily fraction of what a Western writer shells out for a decent cup of strong coffee. One could justly argue that the farmer’s product exceeds the writer’s in terms of practical worth, and that the fate of birth rarely offers justice.

To the north, at the farthest point across the lake from Dali, nestled just offshore from the humble “Double Corridor Village,” is Nanzhou Island. While certainly cultivated with the tourist set in mind, the place is worth a visit. Tranquil, lush, a beach, and not crowded on the beautiful day that this writer visited. From Dali a roundtrip taxi was negotiated for 100 yuan, but some make that trip by three-wheel taxi, and some cycle. The five-minute boat ride to and from the shoreline nearest the island runs 10 yuan, roundtrip. One could choose to stay at the single four-star hotel on Nanzhou, overlooking the lake and valley, but that ‘one’ had best bring company and plenty of taxi cash. Diversions and culinary excursions are few to none in the immediate vicinity.

The Histrionic Hotel
Hotels in Dali run the gamut from backpacker hostels at about 50 yuan a night to five-star full-service resorts offering large luxurious rooms, huge swimming pools and onsite spas for nightly rates running into the hundreds of dollars (prices sometimes negotiable). Ironically, here where access to international communication was once so limited, Internet service is on the menu at most accommodations, no matter how humble.

Of course, service does vary. The small and not cheap foreigner-owned “Tibetan-style” place I first landed in began to rub me the wrong way soon after arrival. The place was clean and the smallish and dark rooms were bearable, but the advertised “24-hour” hot water was not. After my ice cold shower on day 1, the young woman put in place to manage things informed me that I needed to call the desk about 15 minutes in advance of a shower, so the auxiliary heater could be activated. Then, she said, I would need to let the water run for about six minutes before it would heat up. And so, to me, it seemed that any energy savings was dramatically and negatively offset by a remarkable waste of water.

The next morning before dawn I dragged myself out of bed to grab a few early morning sunrise photos, but quickly hit a snag. The door between  the interior common courtyard and the tiny lobby, the only way out the place, was locked. After a few minutes of knocking a sleepy-eyed worker appeared to open up, and he did not appear happy.

After returning from the photo run a couple hours later, I inquired of the staff at this expat-operated “traveler’s hotel” if they might know of a place where I could hire a good guide. “No,” was the answer. How about a place to rent a good mountain bike?  “Go downtown.”  May I have a cup of coffee?  “Nescafe?”  No, real coffee. “You have to wait; we have a group coming in.”  Why has the wireless internet stopped working?  “It is working.”  No, it’s not working. “Well, we can’t do anything about it.”

As it turned out the next morning, not being able to “do anything about it” meant not checking to make sure the LAN cable was plugged in. It wasn’t. Once she plugged it in, my work-required laptop was still offline because the hotel’s wireless router required resetting. I explained that to reset the device, one had only to unplug the power for about 10 seconds, then plug it back in. But this radical operation seemed to pose too great a risk to the technological infrastructure of the place, and the woman in charge shook her read resolutely, refusing to do so. Thus the advertised wireless Internet was not and I got out of there.

But even after I checked out of that place and checked into the wonderful and only marginally more pricey four-star Dali Asia Star Hotel, the sting of that earlier stay was revisited two days later. It was then that I realized some rather expensive cycling shorts must have fallen from my backpack to the recesses of my former dimly lit room. I had a local acquaintance call the “Tibetan-style” lodge to inquire as to those. She was informed that it was “too late;” that two days was too far in the past for those to have been retained. (Never mind that the tiny place had my mobile number on file.)

Nevertheless, this small setback was acceptable as a standard travel inconvenience and did nothing to change my opinion of Dali. A nice place of ease to visit for a few days, then springboard out to more distant locales.

And so after a couple very pleasant days at the Asia Star, the exceedingly helpful staff set me up with a 60-yuan ticket on the VIP bus for Lijiang. While waiting I settled with my gear in the enormous and richly pointed lobby, lounged on the plush sofa, watched the travelers come and go and sipped a local brew, not surprisingly named Dali Beer.

Close to my last sip, the bus driver entered through the big revolving door, scanned the lobby, spotted the big laowai, strolled across the marble floor, watched as I downed the last of the beer, smiled big, gestured to the doors and we were off.

Dali -

Cangshan Mountain

Nanzhou Island

Rice Harvest