My guesthouse is the Laughing Lotus Inn, on Hong Long Jing, in a quiet part of the old town, right by the city walls. It takes a few attempts to find it at first, so tiny is the exquisite little wooden building it's housed in. But I knock and am welcomed in by some friends of the owner, who is currently abroad, who offer me a choice of rooms: one right on the street, and the other one, which they show me to... First impressions aren't promising. I'm led up a path by the side of the building, and through a gateway into a courtyard surrounding some concrete flats, with a barking dog and some stacked chairs. Oh, what have I got myself into. We go up some rickety stairs at the side of the flats... And suddenly, it all changes. We're upstairs at the Inn, in a little wood-pannelled hallway, and I'm shown into my single room. It's tiny and unorthodox: little larger than the single bed inside it, and with the entrance hallway forming a wet room with a shower over the toilet. But I don't care about this. Every surface in the room is made up of beatifully carved wood pannelling. Light streams in through the star-patterned shutters, and the huge mosquito net diffuses it further. The bathroom is perfectly clean, and the room smells of wood and incense. The bedding is deep and luxurious, and the room warm and, most importantly right now, dry. The building is like some kind of fairytale lane, making you happy just to be inside. Yup, it's poky, particularly with a load of my stuff drying there, but for Y50 a night...
Hong Long Jing is a pedestrian street, with a rushing stream and waterfall running down the middle of it. Although there's people and bars in the area, the predominant noise you can hear from the room is the relaxing water flow from the stream. Occasionally, you can hear the giant drum at the nearby Wu Miao temple. Dali itself has long been something of a backpacker mecca, every cafe offering veggie burgers and banana pancakes (I've never understood this - why pancakes? Why banana?) I settle in by wandering around, drinking yet more Yunnan tea and coffee from the variety of welcoming cafes around the place, and enjoying the relative dryness. I wind down and eat at a bar with a view over the city, the spicy beef living up to its name, each slice completely crusted with chilli flakes.
I'm up early the next day, and enjoy a fruit & porridge breakfast before heading for the Cangshan Ropeway, a chairlift that will get me up the mountain overlooking the city. Sadly, it's not as easy to find as I'd anticipated, and after a bit of a climb (a climb that reminded me I was at altitude, leaving me rather more breathless than I'd have expected) I realise I've gone in completely the wrong direction, ending up at some rather odd film set on the edge of town. Not to worry, some men and some (immaculate, I must say) horses were waiting there, ready to take people up the mountain. Well, why not? He takes one look at the comfortably-over-6' Scotsman in front of him and suggests taking two horses. I don't disagree. It's a long time since I've been on a horse, but this is pretty good, really. This guy really knows what he's going, so I'm not in any discomfort, and he makes sure the horse doesn't tire, either. It's a fair old climb, and takes a good 30-45 minutes to get up there, making me very glad for the equine assistance.
Once up there, I'm at the Jade Belt Walk, the Jade Belt being the perfect ring of clouds that descends on this level of the mountain every afternoon. It's a perfectly level path along the mountain, cut out of and clinging to some pretty sheer edges at times. We're above the snow line here, but the sun is still strong, making the temperature deceptive. Although there's some barriers at the worst points, ice on the path is pretty treacherous in places. The views, however, are nothing short of spectacular. A fair way along the path, I notice some signs pointing upwards - there is a hostel and cafe up here, a short climb from the main path, which I decide to visit... I really do feel the altitude at this point, and am glad for the Bai-style potato cake and ginger tea that await me at the top. Back down via a temple and the ropeway, which gives some more rather good views, this time of the lake, and makes for a pleasant ride once you get over the fear of being on the thing (this takes about 5 minutes).
Once again, the urge to hire a bike and potter around outside town takes me, and so I do just that, heading down towards the lake shore via San Ta (ho, ho, ho - it's a triple pagoda) and some huge tea fields, full of pickers. I'm besieged by touts for boat rides once I reach the lake, and do end up negotiating a reasonable price for a short rowing trip out on the lake. I'd love to spend more time here and visit the villages I caught a glimpse of from the train ride into Xiaguan, but I simply don't have the time, which is a shame - there are plenty of ferries that leave from here. Instead, I settle for the views of the sun setting over Cangshan, the mountain I was up earlier, reflected in the lake and surrounding ponds, used by local farmers to wash their produce before taking it to market.
Quite a busy day, so I decide to go for a Chinese massage before dinner (or, as they call it in China, a 'massage'). Keen to avoid any kind of 'happy finish' place, I take a recommendation for a massage centre run by deaf-mute people, and turn up, opting for the neck, back and leg massage (as I often have problems with these). It's not what you'd call a gentle process, but the technique seems to be along the lines of loosening the muscle around joints and the spine, and then, rather forcible, pushing these into perfect alignment. The sensation is quite bizarre, but the feeling afterwards, and effect, rather wonderful. There's a Tibetan restaurant next door, so I try a yak goulash (rather nice - gentle spice, and the meat is quite muttony, a flavour I enjoy) and head off for a good night's sleep.
Some photos of Dali
here.