Bringing in the Year of the Horse in Dali

"This is the laziest little town," a fellow traveler described Dali. And it's true. There is something about this village, deep within southwest China, which robs the traveler of all her ambition. At first, this somewhat frustrated me, as one who typically tries to stay busy and make the most of her travel time, but even I soon brought myself to sit back, relax, and enjoy the sun, the scenery, the homegrown coffee, the quaint local culture, and the laid-back bar and cafe scene as I whiled away six days of near inactivity in this backpackers' paradise nestled within the Himalayas.

Dali is situated in Yunnan province, famed as the Chinese province with the best weather and the most geographic, biological and ethnic diversity. Fully half of China's plant and animal species are indigenous to Yunnan as well as half of China's ethnic minorities (and nearly half of the province's inhabitants are non-Han compared to less than 8% of China as a whole). Dali is the base of the Bai minority but other groups such as the Yi, inhabit the region as well. All this makes Dali an ideal spot to observe both nature and culture and, above all, relax.

Quick Tips:

There is no denying that Dali, with countless hostels and western, Japanese, and Korean restaurants is a tourist town. However, you can use this to your advantage:

1. All of the tourist developments are concentrated in the town of Dali. Therefore keeping the outlying villages, ruins, mountains, temples, etc. remarkably pure and untouched by the tourist industry. There are far more of these things than any one traveler will have time to see, so at most of the sites they see relatively few tourists. Therefore, it's a nice place to base your exploration of areas that would otherwise be far too underdeveloped to observe with any level of the comfort.

2. While the villagers have very simple lives, they have seen westerners before, and this can actually provide for a more authentic observation of their culture. There aren't many places in China where a white person can walk across a rice field and the farmers continue with their work as usual, instead of stopping and crowding around to see the foreigner.

Another thing: Yunnan is home to coffee plantations, so it is one of the few places in China where good, reasonably-priced coffee is widely available.

Best Way To Get Around:

Dali is a small pedestrian village. It really isn't big enough to justify any other means of transportation. There are seemingly countless ways to explore the surrounding areas such as boat rides, bike rentals, horse rides, and busses.

Simply put: Do not stay here. We were so nervous about getting a room (because the Lunar New Year is somewhat of a peak season) that we took the first place we found. This was a mistake. There are plenty of rooms in Dali. There is no reason to stay at this hellhole, particularly if you arrive at seven-thirty in the morning as we did.

The rooms are dirty. The floor in our room was nasty--from spit-wads of previous guests (spitting is somewhat of a National Past-time in China). It was absolutely disgusting.

However, the room's inadequacies paled in comparison to those of the communal bathrooms. There was a decent lavatory on our floor and barely adequate men's and women's showers in the building where we stayed, but the toilets were a good hike across the complex and consisted of a long trough for up to three people to squat over. These toilets provided, in theory, no privacy whatsoever, but since my traveling companion and I were the only ones suckered into staying there that evening, we had them to ourselves. These "trough" toilets are pretty standard in China, but guest houses catering to foreigners nearly always provide a western style flush toilet (or at the very least a squatty with a private stall).

On a different note, considering that we were the only people staying here, we heard an awful lot of interesting noises in the night: soft moans and thumping and scratching noises--we're convinced the place is haunted. My roommate tried to frighten me by telling me that the three hooks situated inexplicably across the room's ceiling were used to hang the people who now haunt the building. It worked--I was terrified.

The one good thing I can say about this International Youth Hostel is that it was the only place I stayed at on this trip that provided a TV in the room. We managed to find one thing to watch in English late that evening--a film about Gulliver with Ted Danson. The TV did not even begin to make the stay here worth it, though.

After spending one night at the disgusting International Youth Hostel, my traveling companion and I moved to the #5 Guest House. To be honest, we were drawn to the #5 largely for its architecture. It has been converted into a hotel/hostel from one of the more interesting traditional buildings in town.

Each of the wings framing the central courtyard--a laid-back "hang-out spot" with shady pavilions and ping-pong tables--house two-story rows of double rooms with private bath. Each has a sturdy table and pair of comfortable looking chairs on the porch/balcony overlooking the courtyard.

But these are the expensive rooms (100Y or $12.50 USD). We opted for one of the less expensive (50Y) double rooms (smaller and without private bathroom or balcony) on the second floor of the main building. (Hostel beds are also available for 15Y, and single rooms for 30Y.)

One of the more interesting things about these less expensive rooms is that they are separated by, rather than conventional walls, a material which looks a great deal like woven basket material. On top of this, there is about an eight-inch gap between the top of the "wall" and the ceiling. While this adds somewhat to the place's charm, it limits privacy somewhat. The man in the room next to ours snored rather loudly every night. We found this somewhat amusing but we aren't light sleepers--if you are, it could really be a nuisance. I think it goes without saying that honeymooners, or those seeking companionship in the many local bars and cafes catering predominately to single twenty-somethings, should probably not opt for one of these rooms. (I should add that while the walls are not made of conventional materials they are sturdy and have doors with locks.)

There is a giant hole in the wall by the staircase of this main building. This actually looks stylish and appropriate (rather than ghetto) but this, coupled with the fact that none of the rooms are entirely separated from each other means that every room in the building is somewhat exposed to the elements--which would be disastrous in any less than the best of climates. However, in Dali, the warm fresh air circulating freely throughout the building only adds to its appeal.

This is also true of the community bathroom, which consists of an outdoor central sink area bordered by walled off toilet and shower areas (with 24 hour hot water). While hardly posh luxury, there is something pleasant about the atmosphere of the restroom area, but then again, this too would be absolutely miserable if the weather should ever turn foul.

Accomodation in the 100Y wing rooms buildings comes with breakfast at the guest house's restaurant. Word has it the food is bad there. I chose to take a good many people's word for it rather than try it myself. Since I had chosen the inexpensive room that didn't include breakfast, I went elsewhere to eat.

Soon after we arrived in Dali and met up with other foreign travelers spending the Chinese New Year season in town, the Sunshine Cafe established itself as the primary hang-out spot: we were there first thing in the morning for breakfast, often popped in for a lunch, a dinner, a snack or a cup of coffee, and more than once stayed here drinking beers and playing cards until the wee hours of the morning. Nearly any time you felt like it, you could pop into the Sunshine Cafe and see someone you know.

And for good reason: The atmosphere is comforting and the food varies from very good to fantastic.

The Sunshine Cafe's manager is American, and that may have a lot to do with the restaurant's appeal. This place knows what western food is supposed to taste like, knows how to make meals, knows what furnishings westerners like, what music is appropriate and what service westerners expect (not to mention what condiments are expected with which foods, that salads and appetizers are expected before meals and not after, that beverages are expected with meals and not after, etc. etc.) Also, it must be said that Chris, the American manager, knows how things work around Dali more than any other person you will find around here who speaks good English so he's a good person to hit up for advice. Still, despite the fact that this is an American-run restaurant dishing out comforts of home (the Europeans, Ozzies, and Israelis found it just as comforting as the Americans), you never forget that you are in a bohemian backpacker haven in a very exotic middle-of-nowhere.

The Sunshine Cafe boasts "the best brownies in town" and while this is most certainly true, I hardly think that calling these brownies the best in this small Chinese village does them justice. They very well may be the best brownies in China (which, granted, may not be saying much either). This is the best dessert I have had in a LONG time. The brownies are rich, moist and crumbly with a layer of oatmeal baked within them and smothered with chocolate sauce. For an extra two yuan (25 cents) you can have it topped with a scoop of Ice Cream. Delicious!

While the brownies were the highlight of my dining experiences here, the food was uniformly excellent and included standard western fare such as sandwiches, salads, and pasta as well as Chinese dishes. Of particular interest was the wide selection of western breakfast foods, which included eggs, toast, ham, hash browns (distinctive and very tasty), French toast, yogurt, museli, fruit pancakes, and more.

To add to the comfort of the place, there's this great couch under a skylight at the back of the place that's the perfect place to unwind (see picture)--especially if you aren't having a meal but rather just hanging out and drinking beer or coffee. It's also ideal for sprawling out on during non-peak hours and reading a book.

A friend of mine enthusiastically referred me to La Stella Pizzeria, describing it as "every bit as good as the brownie" (at The Sunshine Cafe). I don't know about that. I REALLY liked the brownie, and I hardly have felt deprived of Pizza, since decent Pizza is one of the few western foods of which I have been able to find rather easily throughout my travels in China.

But that's enough comparison of Apples and Oranges (or rather pizza and brownies). This was the best pizza I've had in China. The friend who recommended me had Mexican pizza with corn and hot peppers (no meat) and encouraged me to do the same, but since I was, at this point, alone, and therefore not dining with anyone kosher or vegetarian (as I have been lately) I took the opportunity to order a meat lover's pizza instead--piled with generous heaps of cheese, sauce, and five different meats. I ate the whole pizza myself and it was worth every calorie.

The pizzas are about nine inches in diameter and most of them cost around three US dollars, which is a really good price for pizza in China. (The equivalent at Pizza Hut will cost you more than twice that.)

The manager here likes to mingle with the customers to practice his English. It works. His English is so good that this, and his apparent knowledge of pizza, led me to believe that he had spent time abroad. He insists he hasn't though, he has just learned a lot from people passing through his restaurant. (I don't know where he learned to make pizza).

One thing for which the Bai are famous is their beautiful, brightly colored embroidery. This fact, coupled with my dire need for a new bag (as my purse had been stolen the previous week, but that's a different story) led me to the conclusion that a Bai embroidered handbag would be the perfect souvenir from Dali.

I bought the bag from a store with a yellow sign (couldn't read it) among the foreign tourist developments on Huguo Street, which means I probably could have gotten the bag elsewhere much cheaper. Oh well. Even if I could have gotten it cheaper, I still don't think 30 Yuan ($3.75 USD) is a bad price for a hand-embroidered bag, and the stores along Huguo street are really interesting. This one was filled to capacity with colorful embroidered clothes, ornaments, and accessories, and staffed by charming Bai women in full traditional costume.

The bag I chose was a simple black pouch, one side of which has vibrant decoration consisting of alternating stripes of brightly colored fabric swatches and embroidered patterns. The bag is attached to a very long shoulder straps from which it hangs below my hips.

I think my new bag was a good purchase, as I am always receiving compliments on it. It is simple enough to look appropriate with my western wardrobe and lifestyle, but still distinctive enough to make a good conversation piece.

That said, I actually had some problems with it initially. As the shoulder strap broke very soon after I purchased it and one of the seams came out within days. However, the woman at the store where I purchased the bag was very cooperative to fix both of these things as well as reinforce every seam in the bag at my request, and I have had no problems with it since.

The nineteen peaks of the Cangshan mountains, a mile West of Dali, are topped with snow 12 months a year--in direct contrast with the town at its base which is warm and sunny year round.

A trip to Dali wouldn't be complete without some exploration of this dominant feature of the local landscape. There are two ways to go about doing this: You can climb up the mountain or you can take a cable-car (38 Yuan round-trip) to the Zhonghe temple, several hundred kilometers up, and begin your travels there.

I chose the latter for several reasons: because I am an inexperienced hiker, because I was slightly injured, and most of all, because I was alone (everyone I was traveling with at the time was either too lazy or hung-over to go climb a mountain with me) and I felt the cable-car option was safer.

When you reach the place where you get off the cable car, the short dirt path will lead you to the Zhonghe (peace and justice) temple. The temple itself was unremarkable. I found the Goddess of Mercy temple more interesting. However, I was very surprised by the amount of activity there was buzzing about the temple, which undoubtedly had something to do with the fact that it was the first day of the Lunar New Year. However, there were so many food stalls and restaurants (the latter of which, of course, appeared to be permanent establishments) that I was led to believe that there is regularly quite a lot of activity around here.

The food up here looked pretty good, and since I saw only locals up here, you can expect a good "authentic" Bai meal, and you can eat it on a deck that overlooks Dali.

From here the path winds up and around to a ridge, a walking path that winds around the mountain for six kilometers (and another six kilometers to get back). It was for this that I was glad that I had taken the cable-car, because I would rather use my time here, on a narrow piece of rock separating me from the snowy peaks that towered to my left and the frightening drop to the ground, hundreds of meters below, to my right, than spending hours climbing up the mountain. However, while I prefer the dramatic scenery and nice flat walk, if you are looking for a challenging hike in the athletic sense of the word, you should skip the cable-car.

About midway through the trail, there is a large bridge which connects from one peak to another. There is, very near here, a tiny path which winds upward through the trees for a while. I would never had taken it had not the cutest little Chinese boy, (not a local but a city-boy tourist) who was making the hike with his parents, encouraged me to follow him there. I'm glad he did because the path leads to the great waterfall in the photo below.

On Monday mornings there is a market in the village of Shaping (pronounced "shopping"), thirty kilometers north of Dali, that is popular with tourists. I had been planning to go there, but I missed the bus. Several friends of mine made the trip by bicycle, but since I had bruised my hindquarters a bit during my previous bike, it would have been excruciatingly painful to make the long journey to Shaping.

However, later that morning I ran into a man hawking a boat ride to a market in another village across the lake. Since I had been wanting to take a boat ride on Erhai Lake as well as see a local village market, I took him up on it.

He originally asked for 40 Yuan, but I argued it down to thirty. I still thought this was a little expensive, but he wouldn't go any lower, so I went ahead with it.

The man who arranged this trip and sold it must have turned a large profit. There were four of us on the trip he arranged: one Australian, a Swedish couple, and myself. As it turns out, the four of us could have chartered a boat at the dock ourselves for 30Yuan, instead of paying 30-40Yuan each to ride. However, had I gone on my own, I wouldn't have even known about the market we were heading to, and I had never met the other three people, so I wouldn't have arranged this trip with them on my own (and after all, even if I'm being ripped off, it is less than four dollars for a half day's entertainment), so I don't really feel my money was wasted.

It was absolutely gorgeous. The weather was perfect, the air clean, and the vast blue lake was surrounded on all sides by a stunning mountainous terrain dotted by charming villages and a temple that might have been imposing were it not dwarfed by the landscape.

It was also apparently very romantic--at least the Swedish couple with us seemed to think so, as they were groping and slobbering on each other the entire time. The Aussie guy and I, a bit uncomfortable, tried to make small talk and pretend we didn't notice (I spent half a year in Denmark and apparently still haven't gotten used to Scandinavian public displays of affection). If this was bothering me as an American, I don't even want to think about how the Chinese perceived this. This kind of thing is really not accepted by their culture. After eight months in China, I could show you on one hand how many Chinese couples I've seen kissing in public, and even then it is very light kissing, far from the make-out session I witnessed on this boat. In China, you really should get a room for things like this, as it really does make the locals uncomfortable.

After a pleasant half an hour or so, we arrived at the village of Haidong .

No trip through Yunnan would be complete without a visit to a local market in a village. Generally speaking, the rural markets are the center of life in small Chinese villages. In the smaller towns, where the market is held only weekly, nearly everyone in town crowds into the market center to buy and sell, thus facilitating the traveler with a great opportunity to observe the culture at its most active and vibrant. It's also an interesting way to learn a little about the ethnic group whose village you are in (most of the villages in this area are inhabited by China's ethnic minorities rather than by the Han).

While I was initially disappointed to have missed the highly touted Shaping market, the Haidong market proved to be a rewarding experience. However, I would imagine that all of the Bai village markets in the area have a good deal in common, so I doubt if it matters so much which one you visit, but I think it's important to visit one of the markets since they are so central in their society (and so accessible to the traveler). In the end, I'm glad that I didn't visit the Shaping market because busloads of westerners (not to mention the bicyclists) visit there every week, and I am absolutely certain that there were no other non-indiginous people at the Haidong market, save myself and the three others who came across the lake with me on the boat.

And this market and the village it was in couldn't possibly been less touristy. When I ventured town the streets of the town away from the market, I actually saw pigs walking freely in the streets. I saw this three times with three different pigs wandering independently through the streets of the town. None of the locals seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.

Anyone who is actually looking to do some shopping will be disappointed here, since there is little for the tourist to buy. Mostly there is just fish and produce and other day-to-day needs of the villagers (most of which were being carried to and from the market in baskets strapped to the locals' backs)--not much in the way of souvenirs. I bought only some fried potatoes on a stick as a snack.

All in all, the fact that I now know, without a doubt that the most of the Bai women do, in fact, wear some variation on their traditional costume, even when there are virtually no tourists to entertain, would have been enough to make the journey worthwhile.

There are three large, dramatic, Tang dynasty pagodas standing at the Northwest edge of town which happen to be among the oldest buildings in Western China.

The pagodas, the largest and oldest of which was built in the year 876 A.D., are located in a nicely manicured park, along with the imposing Chongsheng temple in characteristic Yunnanese architectural style. The park also has many other secondary buildings including a small museum. (To be honest there isn't much interesting inside any of the secondary buildings, but they add to the landscaping). The gardens are lush, green and well cared for and have no shortage of comfortable, shady places to sit down and relax while enjoying the scenery. There is also a large marble market on the grounds where you can bargain with the locals for just about anything you can imagine fashioned from the famous marble quarried in this area.

While the temple looks appropriately interesting from the outside, on the inside, the recent renovations (or complete overhaul) really show. It looks more like the lobby of a four star tourist hotel (with a big Buddha in the middle of it just for show) than an ancient Buddhist temple--A mild disappointment, but not one that detracts from the rest of the experience.

At first it was I was a little indecisive as to whether I would recommend this particular attraction. The pagodas are very, very, interesting as far as pagodas go: large, beautiful, very well preserved (but not so well preserved that you don't believe they date back more than a millinium), and kept on very nice grounds with beautiful gardens and interesting structures including a rather dramatic temple--so it has plenty to recommend itself.

My only hesitation to recommend comes from the fact that, at 32 yuan, it is, by local standards, a bit pricy for what you get--particularly since you can see the pagodas themselves for free. You can't help but see them--they tower over the town--and they look sufficiently dramatic from the distance you can see them at without having to pay.

Still, the area around the pagodas is a pleasant interesting place to wander around, and you get a very good view of the pagodas themselves and surrounding areas and even though it is expensive by Western Chinese standards, it is only four American dollars, so I'm glad I went. Still, if you are on a very small budget, you can give this place a miss--It's not that important.

The day I arrived in Dali, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I knew I wanted to get away from the town and see something, do something, or just get out and enjoy the warm sunny weather (something lacking elsewhere in China in February), but otherwise had very little idea what I was looking for or what exactly the area had to offer.

I decided to take off walking and explore, and because it is so close and so big that it is absolutely impossible to miss if you head off in an Easterly direction, I elected to head toward Erhai lake, 4 kilometers east of Dali.

I walked for a while, eastward on Renmen street, until I reached the end of the road. From there I headed north, for I figured that I would eventually find a road that would take me further eastward to the lake.

I know now that I would have, eventually, come to a very nice paved road that would have led me directly to the Caicun village (the village situated on the lake, directly East of Dali). However, I didn't have the patience for that. As soon as I came across a simple dirt path heading eastward through a rice field, I was off on it.

This next part is what I like best about Dali: I walked on a dirt path across a rice field--a very ordinary rice field outside of a very simple village in China's "wild west", and the people more or less continued along with their work as if I weren't there, although occasionally someone would look at me curiously and send me a friendly "Ni Hao!". If I were elsewhere in China, the workers would stop what they were doing and come over to gawk at my blonde hair and big nose.

After I had travelled a short ways down the trail it suddenly came to an end and--there were these people with shovels. The trail was actually being constructed as I was walking across it. The people were very nice and let me pass, and after a very short walk down an even simpler path, I was in Caicun village.

I walked around the village for a while. The housing appeared sturdy and adequate and the people looked healthy, but its far less developed than what I've seen in Eastern China.

The lake itself is gorgeous. First of all, the water is actually blue (Dali is also free of the industrial filth of Eastern China) and surrounded on all sides with hills and mountains.

I tried to find the ferry to take me across the lake to another village. It turns out that the ferries are very irregular and the only practical way to cross the lake is to charter a boat. I decided that could wait until another time and caught a horse-drawn carriage back to Dali.

Bicycling is a popular way to explore the countryside around Dali. I will be honest though. I hadn't been on a bike since I got my first driver's license, so I figured I should take it easy on the biking.

So I chose an easy route, and headed for the Goddess of Mercy Temple six kilometers south of town and the villages within it's vicinity. Aside from it being a short and relatively flat journey, it was also on a main road, thus making it easier to navigate as well as to pedal (When I did venture off the main road, I did so on foot).

So I rented a bike from one of the many bicycle rental places along Boai street (there are probably a dozen of them and they are virtually indistinguishable from each other) for 10 Yuan and began to head south on Fuxing Street.

Dali is brimming with tourists (and tourists developments), but as soon as I vacated Dali, I felt that I had stepped back in time. The houses, villages, and ruins I passed en route to the temple appear fascinating and unremarkable at the same time. Unremarkable because they give you the impression that they are in no way distinctive from a thousand other villages in this part of the world, and fascinating because their extreme foreignness to anything I am familiar with as an American (or even what I've experienced living in Eastern China). It is a completely different world here.

I found the pagoda in the second photo in the middle of a field. It was just sitting there: It wasn't on the map, it wasn't marked, there was no path leading to it, and it looked as it had been neglected and ignored for centuries. This told me that ancient pagodas of significant size dot the countryside in this part of the world with such frequency that the locals regard them as completely uninteresting--and this made it more fascinating to me than if I were told it was a pagoda of importance. (The pagodas you see in Eastern China are touted as historical treasures. I figure the "uninteresting" ones have been levelled to make room for factories.)

The temple itself is actually significantly different from other Buddhist temples I've seen (I was surprised). It is built around a large boulder which, according to legend, was strategically placed there by the Goddess of Wisdom to block the advance of enemy troops.

The oldest, and by far the most interesting, building in the complex (see third photo) is a small tower which sits on a bridge over a pool at the center of the temple courtyard. In the tower is the TINIEST little room with a small altar and in the pool, directly under the tower is the legendary boulder.

After visiting the temple, I wandered around the narrow stone paths of the village of Guayintang, another fascinatingly unremarkable town immediately south of the temple, for a while before heading back to Dali.

Over 80% of the 1.6 million members of China's Bai ethnic minority live within the villages of the Dali prefecture, the area they have occupied for 4000 years. And they stay here for good reason: they are blessed with some of the most fertile farmland, beautiful scenery, and mild weather in China.

The first thing most people notice about the Bai are the very distinctive traditional clothing their women wear, with their bright colors, beautiful, elaborate embroidery and dramatic headgear. The Bai like the color white (their religion, a mixture Buddhism and various ancient local traditions, regards the color white as sacred) and "Bai" means white in Chinese. However, most foreign visitors don't take nearly so much notice of the white in their garments and ornamentation as they do the bright colors and flashy patterns which appear to be very important to Bai culture.

Another thing visitors are quick to take notice of are the beautiful, embroidered baby-carriers Bai mothers strap to their back. Apart from being decorative, the carriers seem to be very comfortable to the children, with their faces held over their mothers' shoulders providing them with an excellent view of where they are going and what is going on.

Speaking of babies, here's an interesting tidbit: The Bai, or at least Bai women, actually have a preference for female offspring, and it is considered a good omen if the first child born to a family is female. Who ever heard you'd hear that in China? (It should be noted that the Bai, as with all of China's ethnic minorities, are exempted from the one child policy.)

The Bai have a surprisingly fascinating history. In the eighth century they grouped together and formed and established the Nanzhou kingdom. At the height of their power the Bai Nanzhou empire ruled all of Yunnan and much of present day Burma, and defeated the Tang Chinese Imperial army. They were later invaded by Monguls in the 13th century and have been part of China ever since. Still, it seems odd to think that these quaint, charming, rice farmers, who come across as laid-back and somewhat unambitious and whose language has no wriiten form (though I believe most are literate in Chinese), once controlled one of the most powerful empires in Asia.

February 12, 2002 marked the beginning of this Chinese Lunar Year, the year of the horse. That day, everyone in China became a year older--and so did I (because the twelfth just happened to be my birthday), Therefore, I was eager to celebrate the passing of another year in my life along with the Chinese (although for distinctively different reasons). It was certainly different than any of my previous birthdays, and it was wonderful to spend it in such a festive atmosphere, even if hardly anybody I was partying with knew or cared that it was my birthday.

For about 48 hours or so, on February 11th and 12th, Dali looked, felt, and sounded like a war zone. The Chinese take their fireworks very seriously (they believe setting off fireworks during the new year season frightens away the ghosts and brings good luck in the year to come), and seem to have no laws or social taboos against setting them off in crowded streets, restaurants, or even throwing them at people. Okay, so I know they do have laws against such things in Shanghai (and probably most other major cities as well) but Shanghai is a long way from here. And it appears that in Dali, just about anything goes.

It was absolute chaos. All of the streets in central Dali were lined end to end with fireworks vendors and thousands of people crowded into the street to buy and set off the fireworks (and then buy more). Everywhere you looked you saw (and heard) explosions, roman candles, sparklers and flashy firey things flying through the air, across the ground, swung through the air at the end of a string, and even "jokingly" used as projectile weapons. What may have surprised me most was how many small children were participating. I saw a little girl (she looked about two) standing in the middle of the street, calmly holding a sparkler while flashy things zipped over her head and all kinds of things were blowing up on the ground around her (as in, within a three foot radius). Her mother was about ten feet away working on some firecrackers of her own, and seemed completely aware and unperturbed by this situation. Fortunately, I didn't witness anything horrible, but I imagine the firework related mortality and morbidity rates in China must be pretty atrocious.

As far as I can tell, you really aren't safe anywhere. (Someone set some firecrackers off in the guest house bathroom while I was taking a shower). I did learn this much though:

1. If you see several people running away from a particular point and ducking for cover, it is best to do the same.

2. I had two Israeli friends with extensive military training and followed them around some. I don't know if this gave me any protection whatsoever, but since they are very good at looking like they know what they're doing, it was somewhat comforting.

3. When you actually do get hit by a firecracker, it doesn't hurt as much as I had anticipated.

All in all, however, it was a lot of fun, and as I was running down the streets of Dali with things exploding all around me, I felt like I was in some cheesy action movie. Of course, I did get hit several times (had many bruises but nothing worse), had one small firecracker fall into my purse (managed to get it out in time) and had one firecracker explode approximately twelve inches in front of my face (very scary and my ears rang for hours but I wasn't injured). I am absolutely certain that all of the ghosts must be sufficiently frightened out of Dali (except maybe the ones at the International Youth Hostel).

But enough about fireworks, the villages which dot the countryside are actually a very good place to see some locals observing their holiday traditions. The Chinese, particularly in rural areas, do a good deal of their housework outdoors, including a good deal of their food preparation. This is especially true when the weather is pleasant, and it appears that the weather is almost always pleasant in Yunnan. Therefore, while walking through one of the villages during any of the days immediately preceding the new year, you are likely to find the people buzzing about, cleaning their homes and their clothes, putting up decorations (including the traditional red strips of paper which decorate the doors of homes throughout China as well as characteristic Bai ornamentation), and preparing a holiday feast. What's more, on New Year's Eve and New Year Day you are likely to find the villagers in their traditional garments singing, dancing and parading up and down the streets with dragons.

When I first found out that I would be spending the Chinese New Year in Dali, I was disappointed. Since travel on the New Year Day and the day or two before are highly impractical, I was largely stuck here. I was under the impression that it would have been best to spend this most important of Chinese holidays in one of the major cities so I would be more in the middle of the action. However, word has it that most of the cities are very quiet during the New Year Holiday since everyone stays at home and spends the season with their families (and since they have fire-cracker regulations in the cities). So while I hadn't planned on spending the holiday in Dali, I believe that being "stuck" in Dali provided a much more memorable experience than I would have had in any of the places I would have chosen.