Monday, January 19, 2009
Back to the Nujiang (怒江)
On Saturday 20th of December I left Dali to take the bus to the Nujiang. Being in Dali doesn't feel like China. It's anyplace. They have nice cafes that serve good coffee (Cafe de Jack) and bars where you can watch movies, surf the internet or bakeries where you can indulge in cheesecake. There weren't many tourists about when I was there, but the weather was sunny and mild.
I think I had the same suicidal driver to Liuku as I had last year. I caught the bus from Xiaguan bus station, which entailed an early start from Dali old town and a morning bus ride with a a team of cleaners down to the big ton as we watched the bus advertorial TV. As usual I had stocked up on the usual snacks to get me through the bus journey - peanuts, chocolate, biscuits, drinks ... and I munched my way through these all too quickly as we freewheeled down the motorway towards Baoshan, watching Terminator 3.
This time we did a slightly different route, turning off early for Liuku and skirting the Mekong on a rather dusty road that was under construction, and passing through a town called Qujing that had a huge, newly built mosque.
We arrived in Liuku just after lunch, and instantly the people seemed friendlier than elsewhere. Even the stern soldier who checked my passport turned friendly when he realised I spoke Chinese. There was some kind of minority dress festival going on in the Nujiang and there were buses and Jeeps lined up in preparation for the VIPs they were expecting.
I decamped off the bus and managed to grab some friend rice before taking a minibus up to Fugong. It was arranged by a women tout who grabbed me as soon as I got off the bus. She led me to believe there was a direct bus from that bus station, but as I soon discovered as her son led me across the footbridge over the Nujiang, it was the same old bus service from the western bank bus station.
The scenery on the way north was the usual spectacular array of peaks, crags and river scenes. A few locals fished using bamboo rods and makeshift reels cobbled together from thick metal wire. I saw a few dug out type canoes, and as usual marvelled at the huddles of Lisu houses in villages perched high up on the hillside. Many of them had their own whitewashed churches.
Closer up, the settlements along the river looked dirty and ramshackle. It often surprised me to see a cheerful and well dressed, modern looking Lisu women get off at one of these scungy looking collections of wooden shacks and breeze block slums.
Fugong was much as I remembered it - the same scrappy collection of shops and noodle places tucked in the valley. This time I arrived before dark, and had time to find myself a place at the Dianli Binguan (Power Station Hotel) (80 kuai a night) before having a little wander. Not much to see. In a dusty ramshackle schoolyard they were preparing for a craptacular concert - perhaps to celebrate the Lisu kousi jie - whatever festival that is. 
I settled for a bath and a quiet night watching Nujiang TV - which featured a tourist style presentation of the Nujiang, making out they were all one big happy family - "Nujiang Huanying Nin!" (Nu River Welcomes You) and it even featured Ding Dama (the grumpy old caretaker woman of the Chongding/Bingzhongluo church and what looked like her very flash guesthouse, complete with internet) .. it didn't feel like I was going to a remote area at all.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
From Chengdu to Kangding.
On the 12th of December 2008 I flew from Sydney to Guangzhou and then took a connecting flight to Chengdu. I didn't really have a clear plan, just a vague idea that I might try walk/ride buses from kangding over to the Yalong river and Muli. It didn't work out that way because I didn't realise just how cold it would be around Kham (northern and western Sichuan) at that time of year. After a day in smoggy Chengdu, I ignored the advice of the slackers at Sam's cafe (who said it was still not possible to travel to Kangding) and took a bus there the next day. Kangding was certainly open, but by gum it was cold. Not too bad during the day when the sun was shining, but once it got dark (and it did so very early) the temperatures plumeted, and I needed all my thermals plus a scarf and earmuffs to survive.
I seemed to be the only tourist in town and a very grim place it seemed too. I had the Black tent Hotel to myself, and it was very depressing to return to that cold and empty dorm room in the evening at 6pm with the prospect of little to do but huddle under the sleeping bag for warmth and try read under the weak bulb for the rest of the evening. I spent some time in a cafe by the square where the locals practised Tibetan circle dancing, and I sipped lemon tea to pass the time.
There were quite a few Tibetans in town, most wearing their traditional chubas or long dresses, but covering their faces with surgical masks or big woolly balaclavas.
On my first full day I took a taxi out to Yulin to see if there was any chance of trekking up to Gongga Shan. I was surprised to find that the valley up to Yulin was now the scene of much construction, with new condos being sold off the plan right up to the Tibetan houses.
I had a dip in the hot springs pool and walked up to the village to seek out a guide. Some local Tibetans were corralling horses into a trailer and their head man aid it would be possible to trek to Gongga Si, but it would be cold and the days were short, so it would take longer than usual - up to eight days for the return trip. I demurred, looking up at the beautiful peaks but deciding the hardship wasn't worth it. It would just be way too cold for safety, let alone comfort.
I returned to Kangding and took a bus back the next day to Chegdu. I would try the warmer climes of Yunnan instead.
And so I took a train to Kunming.
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