Yunnan’s “Swallow Cave” is impressive:
During the spring and summer, thousands of birds make it their home (hence the name), but as it’s winter they weren’t in residence. At 8.3 million years old, it’s magnificent in its own right:
And didn’t really need the coloured lights and flowery descriptions (one area was called “A dream-like world”):
… nor the tourist trappings (it was “the main area in the swallow cave for sightseeing, shopping and taking a rest”; I’m not sure shopping was on the Creator’s agenda, but maybe it’s me who’s got this all wrong). Nevermind, with only half a dozen people, it was easy to ignore the out-of-season circus and wonder at the stalagmites:
… and stalagtites:
Then we joined the civilisation line up:
… for the Dragon boat back to the entrance:
The toilet situation is deteriorating. Whoever went before me needs to get themselves to a doctor. No really. And, halfway through, I suddenly panicked about splashback. Ugh!
But noodle soup at a little local cafe was the best of my trip so far – it’s wonderful how these unexpected pleasures jump up to surprise you when you’re least expecting it 🙂
Local bus back to town (where trumpets were not allowed):
Past fields of spring onions:
And our third steam pot of our three-night stay. I could get used to this 🙂
Other random stuff from today:
I like trying new things. Unfortunately, you have to expect a few epic fails between the pleasant surprises. This mixture was something between a yoghurt and one of those probiotic things. Â It looked like it would taste foul. Â It met this expectation:
Beautiful carvings:
Cars are a reminder that we’re not in a third-world country anymore:
Chinese tourists are rude, thoughtless and ignorant. My conclusion after four days in China is that they are in no way indicative of the general population who have consistently been exceptionally kind and friendly. It was dark when we arrived in Jianshui last night. A young couple from the bus were stood waiting for us when we got off. We showed her the address of our hotel (I stupidly hadn’t taken a screenshot of the map) and were gently bundled into the car that had come to pick them up. Couldn’t find the hotel. They called the hotel, pulled up near the pedestrian area, then got out and walked us all the way to reception. We were so incredibly touched by their kindness.
And these aren’t isolated incidents – they’re happening regularly and frequently. Today, Rudy had a problem with both his bank cards meaning that he couldn’t get any cash. He needed to call home so we went on search of a SIM card. Unavailable at the first place we tried, the lady walked us ten minutes through the city and explained our requirement to the sales assistant. We gasped: £150 for an international SIM card. And started discussing our options, gesturing to the lady that this was far too expensive as we just needed to make a call. She held her own phone out to Rudy. He explained that he needed to call Belgium, an international call. She nodded and pushed it further towards him. We didn’t move for a moment. Then Rudy took it and showed her the number he was about to dial. She nodded again and gestured encouragement. Rudy made two calls to his bank and sorted his problem. We thanked her profusely, but she just smiled, said “You’re welcome” and disappeared on to the street. Above and beyond the call of duty, by any standards. Another wonderful RAOK. And another amazing welcome to their country. Thank you, China 🙂
We’d breakfasted at a local place and weren’t charged tourist prices (we’re definitely off the tourist trail here), which made us feel surprisingly good.
Then off to the Confucius Temple.
Originally built in 1285, during the Ming and Qing dynasties, as the educational and cultural centre of Yunnan, over the last 700 years it’s been expanded and repaired at least fifty times and now covers 76,000 sqm:
The “Dismount archway” (there was a rule that you had to get off your horse) was originally built of wood but destroyed in the war (1647) and rebuilt in stone (1764):
Instructive inscriptions on everything from medicine to political affairs are housed here:
Confucius’ shrine was a similar style to the Buddhist ones so far, with a statue of him seated on an elevated platform, but was less ornate with distinctly less gold spray:
It was also home to two beautiful birds (well, probably more than two, but these are the ones I photographed):
And even the bins were getting into the spirit of things:
Sweet potato for lunch. Just a baked, naked sweet potato. Nom, nom. She was doing a storming trade with her goods sold by weight – you picked one dependent on how hungry you were and then paid for what you had. No trying to source potatoes of similar size, nor customers always wanting the biggest one for the set price. Very good idea.
And it was much better than the tasteless barbecued fare, which seems so popular here:
Back on the street:
… It was cold. Really cold, especially after the warm climes of Laos. Hat. Gloves. “Jingle bells” in Chinese. And then Zhu’s Garden.
It started with a lovely welcome as their “swimming guests”:
The residence and ancestral hall of Zhu Chaoying (1871-1927), it covers over 20,000 sqm, consisting of 42 courtyards and 214 rooms arranged in a crisscross pattern:
Best bit was the “Water stage” whose splayed proscenium extended to the pool which served as amplification and fire prevention:
Very neat.
A pretty house within the grounds:
But, once again, toilets with no doors or water.
Back outside I spotted a new building and noticed that it also had the ornamental quiffs so typical of Chinese architecture (so far, anyway):
At the bus station, there were barriers, presumably to stop queue jumping – rarely seen in England.
Serious communication problems. Nobody speaks any English and I didn’t learn any Chinese before I came. Downloaded another app as Douglas Adams’Â “babel fish” hadn’t yet been invented.
Later we went in search of dinner… And realised that the steam pot we’d fortuitously found yesterday was, in fact, the only cuisine available. But it was really good. So we chose another place and feasted:
I turned the corner into the ladies’ toilet. And was presented with an old lady, squatting side on, with a poo coming out of her bum. I froze. Then pretended it was completely normal and went to find my own doorless cubicle over a single channel running the width of the room. There was no flush. No wonder Chinese toilets stink. Not just an unpleasant aroma, but a choke-inducing, breath-holding stench. But why, China? You’re so much more advanced than the SE Asian countries but don’t have flushing toilets. Everywhere in SE Asia had flushing toilets, even if it was with a bucket.
It was one of about a dozen stops on our journey from Jinghong to Jianshui. We’d got ourselves comfortable at the back of the sleeper bus (although we were travelling during the day), reorganizing the blankets, draping our not-quite-dry laundry over whatever we could find and generally making ourselves at home for the ten-hour trip. We’d only been on the road twenty minutes when we stopped for the first of many checkpoints. Not just a “tick in the box” drive-through jobby, but a spot-check luggage inspection. Twice we were required to show our passports and our visas were inspected. First time, all passengers had to show ID, and she clearly took it very seriously indeed. But once she had inspected our passports and asked us various questions (“Where do you come from?” “Where are you going?” etc), she was very friendly. It was only once she’d gone that I realised my pants had been hanging right there in front of us, like a fourth party in the conversation.
The second time, of the whole bus, only the three tourists were targeted. It didn’t make us feel welcome, but I think it was just because he found our documents more interesting than theirs. Again, once he’d done his job, he was very friendly.
And, rather disconcertingly, one of passengers couldn’t take his eyes off us. It was like we were a beautiful lady that he just couldn’t resist looking at. Eventually, we started waving at him each time he glanced our way. He’d look embarrassed, pretend he wasn’t looking… And less than a minute later his eyes would be back on us. It was either a fascination with westerners… or a crush on Rudy 😉
Our day had started early, up to watch the school run:
Pavements were a hive of activity as children and adults got their noodle soup before school:
And then suddenly they’re gone:
Children were making their way to school unsupervised at a much younger age than back home. Is it safer here? I don’t think so. But the Asians seem to have a much braver approach to child independence.
Noodle soup for our breakfast – quick, nutritious and customisable:
Rudy reached for the salt, turned the cellar upside-down and shook. Nothing. He shook harder. Nothing. He shook harder. And a single toothpick stuck itself upright in his noodles. Silence. Bursts of laughter.
Dinner in Jianshui was more successful – most places were closed by the time we went out (Asians eat early, by my norms anyway), but we stumbled upon a steam pot restaurant. A flashback to our fondue over the bamboo bridge in Luang Prabang.
Pleased with our luck, we retired happy and full, past this lovely creature:
Q from back home: “How do you know where you’re going if all the signs are in Chinese?”
A: we don’t.
And as we can’t speak any Chinese, and most Chinese can’t speak any English, it makes getting anywhere “part of the experience”. Or a bl**dy nightmare, depending on my state of mind. Â And so I downloaded a translation app and we attempted to navigate the streets of Jinghong. After three phases, it got stuck on “fried rice” which isn’t the worst phrase to get stuck on…
… but not entirely helpful when trying to buy bread. We were clearly pointing at the wholemeal loaf on the bottom shelf, but the assistant just kept saying “No” and waving her palms face down. But that’s the one we want – the first non-sweet, proper-looking bread since I left England. Still she wouldn’t sell it to us, instead pointing at the sugary stuff on the shelf above. Noooo, not that one! Eventually, Rudy went to pick it up. “It’s plastic”, he said. What? Nooooo! But it was. We burst out laughing, expecting them to do the same, but all the staff kept a straight face. I hope they had a good giggle at our expense when we’d left.
We’re the main event in town. It seems that tourists don’t come here often and we’re a bit of a novelty. As the main town closest to a border crossing, this surprised me. But not as much as being asked for selfies and given lots of attention – sometimes they literally just stood there and stared at us.
So I wasn’t surprised when they asked me to play. Tables and tables of people playing a card game I didn’t recognise, so I’d stopped to watch to try to work out the rules:
Unfortunately, he just jabbed at the cards I was to put down so by the end of two games I was none the wiser. But apparently spectators from the other tables came over to where I was!
Continuing round the park, another group of tables. Chinese chess. A spectator sport with everyone putting in their two-penny-worth:
Mah-jong was further round, and when they came to the end of their game the mechanical tables took over. Awesome:
Other things we saw included: people wearing their jackets back-to-front on their motorbikes, or with special protectors from the cold:
Umbrellas over bikes:
Bong shops:
A supermarket:
Chocolate bananas (quite good festival food, actually):
Carp:
Suction-cup therapy in the park (the way it was making her skin swell looked gross, but I know nothing about the therapy so won’t comment on its effectiveness):
Toilets that absolutely stank and were missing doors again. I’m still surprised by this, given how much more advanced China is, in so many ways, than the other SE Asian countries I’ve visited.
Another very Asian moment at dinner. When I ordered the chicken, I got the whole bird:
… And I mean, the whole bird:
And over dinner I realised that, with only ten days to go, I have no idea where I’ll be for Christmas. You can’t, and I don’t want to, plan that far ahead when you’re travelling. So for the first time in a long time, Christmas is not planned. Weird and exciting 🙂
A day wandering round Jinghong. This is what we saw.
Covers on motorbikes (it’s much colder here than in Laos):
ATMs that you put your hand into to get money out:
Shops that are open to the street:
A park with a zoo:
… and peacocks:
A dragon:
Ducks (not looking too happy about the situation):
And an impressive bug:
Mah-jong (they invited me to play):
Apartments…:
… one of which turned out to be a hospital:
And then into the market to buy pants (someone didn’t bring three pairs ;):
. And a bra mountain (which Rudy pretended to dive into, to the amusement of the sales girls):
Siesta time:
A fish stall:
And a meat stall. Yes, every part of the pig. And yes, they’re snouts:
Asia is not a good place for vegetarians.
China, or Jinghong at least, is an interesting mix of American (infrastructure, road signs, cars) and Asian (street food, chickens being held upside-down by their legs from motorbikes, vendors with their goods in baskets on each end of a long pole).
A proliferation of slogans spotted today:
Superlative conspiracy
Iuicy girl
That’s ban
A couple tried talking to us in the park. They spoke very basic English. It took them a while to realise that we wanted to learn to count in Chinese (always useful), but when they did, their faces lit up and they proceeded to teach us 1 to 10 enthusiastically (when the husband heard me play back my recording of his wife counting, he wanted to be recorded too!).
I’ve saved the worst to last, though, I’m afraid. Gobbing. Spitting. Hocking. Call it what you will. Either way, it’s disgusting. And it’s not just a quick “tuh”, but a long-winded moisture collection routine ending with a street puddle. Did I mention it’s disgusting? She was dressed in a smart suit, with accessories. As we waited to cross the road, she deposited a significant amount of bodily fluid on the pavement. We both looked at it. “That’s disgusting,” I said.
China is another world. Nature doesn’t recognise country boundaries so the terrain was similar, but that’s about it. And now for the differences. Let’s start with the roads:
Proper asphalt roads (and not just the main highways)
Central reservation (I haven’t seen one anywhere in Cambodia, Vietnam or Laos) and a dual carriageway
Road signs (a mix between English- and US-style)
More cars than motorbikes (a sign of prosperity)
… leading to traffic jams
… but also faster speeds
Tunnels (and they tell you how long they are)
No pot holes (although sections if the road are still very bumpy)
People not driving on the wrong side of the road (I’d obviously got used to this as I noticed its absence straight away)
More aggressive honking
Lots of different makes of car (whereas there appeared to be only a few breeds in SE Asia, and mainly pickup trucks in Laos)
And different “tuk-tuks”
And now the other stuff:
Hieroglyphics (i.e. the written Chinese language; it’s like Chinese to me)
Concrete houses (no wood)
More built-up
Construction workers wear hard hats
People are fatter
People wear more modern clothes
Nobody speaks English (not even a little bit)
And the trees on the hillside are in lines
Our first toilet stop in China. Can you spot what’s unusual about the door?
Exactly, there isn’t one. Vandalised maybe. But none of the toilets we stopped at had doors. And the toilets were of the squat variety, which surprised me somewhat.
The spoken language is also very different. It sounds very aggressive: the man on the phone in the bus sounded like he was reprimanding someone, but was probably just planning dinner.
We arrived much later than planned in Jinghong: one member of the Aussie group who’d left Luang Namtha with us had had the wrong date put on her visa. She didn’t notice until the immigration officer wouldn’t let her pass. It took a good couple of hours for them to rearrange their plans (she and a teacher had to return to Luang Prabang to get her another visa, and also one for the teacher who’d already entered the country and so would need a new visa to re-enter).
Once we’d arrived, we started walking into town to our hotel from the south bus station:
With a basic map, we just couldn’t work out where we were. Eventually, we asked a couple who indicated we should just take a taxi. The first driver didn’t recognize the hotel. Nor the the second. Nor the third or fourth. Twenty minutes later the young couple saw us still with our backpacks. She came over, called our hotel, hailed a taxi, told him where to go and set us on our way. What a lovely welcome to her country (spoiled slightly by the taxi driver who tried to charge us four times the going rate, but we were on to it).
I’d changed some money at the border. My whizzy app told me that my 75,000 kip were worth 60 yuan. I showed her. She gave me two twenties and two fives. Close but not close enough. I asked for another five which she duly gave me. Result. Or so I thought. It was only when I went to pay for some water later that day that I found out the “fives” were actually 0.5. She’d given me 41.5. She knew I wouldn’t know the difference. It was only £2, but that’s not the point. Not a, great welcome to China (and who puts the number “5” on a note worth “0.5” anyway?). So the couple’s kindness was doubly appreciated and restored my faith in humanity (and the Chinese) somewhat.
At the hotel, we were rather perplexed by the two kits that were between our beds:
Dinner. We ordered some spicy meat and rice with “fried carrot”. You’ve probably now got a mental picture of a plate of fried carrots. If not, take a moment to picture one. When it arrived well after our meal (not unusual), we stared at it. “Is that what we ordered?”
“Dunno.”
Carrots had been mashed, rolled into balls, deep-fried, piled up like profiteroles… and drizzled with chocolate sauce:
Bet you didn’t see that one coming, did ya? Neither did we. We both peered down at it. And then burst out laughing. Paradigm shift.
