a little coffee

Lijiang: our final destination. A very popular tourist destination. This city must be on every Chinese person’s travel list because even in the middle of January, this place was swarming with tourists- and a heavy dose of Westerners.  The old town was indeed very beautiful- well preserved architecture, several streams flowing through town, it’s difficult to put the camera away. But all these things conspired to make Lijiang my least favorite destination.

The trouble began when we couldn’t find our hotel.  We successfully managed to get from the bus station to the entrance of the Old Town, but we quickly got confused and frustrated in the labyrinth of narrow, twisting look-alike streets that, in many places, were just three-person wide foot paths.  Chris called the hotel to have someone fetch us- luckily we were less than 10-minute walk away.  Thankfully it was located away from the hustle-and-bustle of Old Town, down a quiet road that followed a stream. Our hotel was fantastic. We shared a small, simple room (with hardwood floors!) on the second floor, which opened to a balcony that overlooked the courtyard below. Several tables and chairs were set up amongst a bazillion potted plants and vines.  It was charming and I would spend several hours relaxing with a cup of tea on one of the chairs on the balcony.

It was fun just walking around the town and scampering across the weathered wooden planks over the streams that snaked through town, looking at the shops and keeping an eye out for interesting cafes and restaurants to try. By now I had noticed a major difference between Chinese and Western ideas of dining.  Chinese restaurants do nothing to encourage people to stay- chairs and tables are straight and hard and there is no thought given to atmosphere or design of the place.  You’re lucky if the walls have a fresh coat of paint.  Of course the Chinese don’t linger over a meal- they’re still chewing their last bite and the chopsticks are on the table and they’re leaving.  It was especially apparent in Dali which restaurants catered to Chinese tourists and those for Western tourists.  One obvious clue was with Western restaurants, there was some effort in the way of decor and at least a thing cushion to sit on.  In Lijiang, Chris and I were on the look-out for these restaurants because they were infinitely cheaper than the bloated price of Western food.  

Money would be our biggest hassle in Lijiang and it was because of the huge numbers of Western tourists- naive Western tourists that a lot of vendors and cab drivers took us for.  We don’t need to bargain much in Anyang, but you needed to here to get even a half-way descent price amidst all these independent, exploiting vendors. Here Chris came into his own when bargaining- I was slow to follow and probably overpaid for a few things before I couldn’t take constantly being had.  Ha!  You say 20?  I say 10!  

It was also the first time we encountered this problem with cab drivers.  The reputable cabs have meters in their cabs.  If you have to bargain with a cabby, then he’s trying to scam you as they did in Lijiang, no doubt because of our obvious foreignness. But we’re too smart for them!  Screw you taxi!  It was at this point, on our fourth (and thankfully last) day that we became absolutely exhausted by all this money hassle, for constantly being on guard against being cheated- especially with those you wouldn’t think were trying to cheat you.  I was thankful that in ugly Anyang, we rarely have to deal with this.

My favorite part of our stay in Lijiang was an afternoon trip to the “Naxi Ancient Town” of Shuhe.  Like Lijiang, this village was comprised of old, preserved architecture  of the Naxi people, another one of China’s ethnic minorities that lived in that area. Aside from the surprise entrance fee, this was very much a welcome break to the swelling crowds in Lijiang.  We roamed through the cobbled streets, charmed by the architecture, especially the intricate lattice work, and the red paper lanterns strung up all through town. Old women dressed in faded, often soiled Naxi clothes ambled buy- some of them we saw working in the small fields that weren’t much larger than a back yard garden on the outskirts of town.  We stumbled upon performances occurring in the city’s square- women doing their dull, dainty dances (too much emphasis on hand flourishes) and the boys with their much more intersthing athletic, energetic numbers.

We stopped for a snack (cake and coffee!) at Le Petit Paris, snuggled up close to the river that ran through town, and listened to a huge group of 15 or so people with bongo drums making a happy ruckus at the neighboring cafe in celebration of the new year. We wandered around town some more, searching for the ecological garden, which turned out to be dead weeds because of winter, while taking in the mountains, the river and the fields. Before saying adieu, we stopped again for a BIG latte and an Irish coffee. Ahhhhhh…