If you don't ask you don't get

Wednesday 11^th May 2011

20 days left traveling the world.

MP3 track of the day: Jumping Jack Flash – Rolling Stones

Weather: Hooot.

My mornings seem to have become a pleasurable routine of waking up early and eating cake for breakfast. Today was no acception. Once I'd devoured another slice of cheesecake I walked to the nearest bus stop to, yet again, head into the town of 'New Dali'. Even though I knew where the offices were I still presented the driver with the same piece of paper shown two days ago. He nodded indicating that he would let me know where to get off.

The bus wasn't as full as on Monday and so I retained my seat; as I approached the visa office I noticed that the antenna, on top of the building, looked like a miniature silver version of the Eiffel Tower. Without a nod from the driver I disembarked the service and walked into the visa office without hesitation. The office was empty and the guy, who I'd spoken to on Monday, was sat in the same chair. “Please wait a few minutes” he said as I sat on the stool opposite him; I could see that he was printing out my extended visa and, with careful precision, he stuck it onto an empty page within my passport. Once back in my hands I checked the details of my new visa thoroughly; I was now entitled to stay within China until my flight. I thanked the guy and left.

The bus was packed and so I alighted a couple of stops early and walked the rest of the way. Once back at the hostel I booked a bus to Lijiang, for tomorrow, before heading to an internet café to book accommodation. Once my accommodation was booked I sent a few emails including one to British Airways (BA); after writing a few lines of flattery I explained to BA that my coming flight was my final one within a year of travel. I continued by saying that I would like to use my 'BA points' to upgrade my seat as a 'celebration'. I'm pretty sure that I haven't got enough points to get a fee toothpick, let alone an upgrade to a 'pod' class seat, but 'if you don't ask you don't get'.

The computer shut down after an hours of use. I went back to my hostel momentarily to print off directions to the hostel, within Lijiang, before heading into town for lunch; with nothing much to do I continued the 'blog' work, that I started yesterday, and sat in the sun, with an orange juice, until the early evening. My bus leaves at nine tomorrow morning arriving in Lijiang at 1pm. I need to pack, have a shower and an early night; tomorrow I should be able to grab a final slice of cake before heading back to my hostel and being picked up. Finally I'm moving again!

Toodle Pip!

Blog tastic

Tuesday 10^th May 2011

21 days left traveling the world.

MP3 track of the day: X and Y – Cold Play

Weather: Hooot.

It's ironic that, now I had ear plugs at the ready, they weren't needed. I woke up at 7:00am noticing that only half the beds were occupied and the room had a deathly silence. Having nothing urgent on I went back to sleep for another hour before getting up slowly.

Once again I occupied the first wooden table, on the right, within the 'Sweet Tooth' café. With my usual hot chocolate ordered I added a slice of white chocolate cheesecake with berries; when I'd viewed said cheesecake, within the glass cabinet next to the counter, I couldn't see any berries and presumed that they were inside the cake. As a waitress approached, walking extremely slowly fully focused on the over flowing hot chocolate within her left hand, I noticed that said berries had been placed on top of the cake. Once again the cake was delicious and I ate slowly as I read my guidebook; I scraped most of the berries off as they were rich and only a few were needed to compliment the taste of the cheesecake, otherwise they would have consumed it. There wasn't anything left in Dali that I wanted to do; looking out of the window it seemed to be a fine day and so I contemplated going back up the mountains. Even though I'd enjoyed walking along the path two days ago – and given that today was a weekday therefore it would be quieter – I rejected the idea as I couldn't justify spending the money on something I'd already done. I flicked back and forth through the pages of my book until my cheesecake had been eaten and my hot chocolate had been drunk. A decision had been made and, even though it wasn't that interesting, it was something that had to be done.

I went to the local supermarket to purchase chocolate before returning to my hostel. After collecting my laundry I sat down to work on my blog; the end of my trip is coming and this means a few posts need to be written. Firstly a summary of China needed to be done and, as I've been here over a month, I thought I was capable of making a start. After this I wanted to do a round up of my favourite experiences and a blog of valuable information that I could pass onto others who might be planning their year away … How I envy them.

As you can appreciate the above takes time. I'd just finished my China round-up when it was time for lunch. I went into town, more for the walk than the choice of food, and had something to eat before restocking on chocolate and heading back to the hostel. I continued to work late into the evening; on the one hand I was a little conscious that I'd wasted my day however, on the other hand, I'd made a dent into things that needed to be done and the restful day was welcome. Tomorrow I shall head into new Dali to pick up my extended visa before coming back to book my transport to Lijiang. Fingers crossed all goes well.

Another week has rolled by and there isn't much to report other than the Chinese authorities take forever to extend visa's. My daily spending has taken another tumble for the better; it now stands at £29.33 per day.

Toodle Pip!

P.S. As I've been writing said blogs I've had an annoying fly keep landing on my shirt. It's been attached to me throughout the day and, try as I might, I cannot get hold of it. It's a shame that beautiful women don't find me as attractive. I've always said that flies are a good judge of character.

Offices, lakes and time

Monday 9^th May 2011

22 days left traveling the world.

MP3 track of the day: Que sera sera – Doris Day

Weather: A lot cooler than yesterday - due to having more clouds - but still a 'baby blue' sky could be seen. During the late afternoon the clouds drew in and a light rain shower occurred.

Unbelievably I woke up to the sound of snoring once again; the thunderous noise came from the guy to my right and, once he'd started, others followed. I looked at my watch waiting for my eyes to focus on it's tiny face … 6:30am. Still it could have been worse; last night the room stunk of weed and I was almost certain Britney Spears was in the bunk opposite. Trying to sleep was useless therefore I got up and got ready, not caring if I made a noise as I closed the dorm door behind me. Once washed and dressed it was still too early to descend on 'Old Dali towns' police office and so I sat down, with one of the hostels computers in front of me, and read through all the articles - on the BBC sport website - in regards to the latest Formula One race. Eventually time ticked on and so I made the decision that it was time to leave the hostel; I went once more into my dorm picking up items that I would need and leaving my camera behind.

'Sweet Tooth' café wasn't open this early and so I decided to eat breakfast after I'd got my certificate. I walked east and, after thirty minutes or so, I found myself, once again, facing 'Tol Seng' prison. I walked up the stone stair case showing the note, that I'd been given by my hostel, to any officer who stopped me. Once on the third floor I stopped outside the office I'd been told to, finding the door padlocked. I'm not sure if one of the officers, who had passed me by on the stairs, had notified the police woman that I was waiting, or if she had arrived round the same time as I but I didn't have to wait long. A Chinese woman, of average height and build, stood in a police uniform with a neutral expression. She unlocked her office, beckoned me in and turned her PC on. I sat down in an old, burgundy, leather chair that reclined too much to be comfortable; the police lady put her lunch on her desk and logged onto the machine to her right. The woman entered my passport details into a database and, in return for my patience, I was handed a 'certificate of residence' which I thanked her for before heading back to my hostel.

I'd made a quick stop for another slice of 'chocolate chip cheesecake with a hot chocolate' before presenting my certificate to the receptionist at my hostel. She, in return, explained the next stage of the visa process which involved me catching bus number eight towards the 'new town' of Dali. The bus stop wasn't far and luckily there was a service waiting for me; I showed the driver a piece of paper which stated where I wanted to go and if he would let me know when I was there. At first the service was empty and I had a row of seats to my self however, as we moved through the town, the bus became full resulting in me surrendering my seat to a lady with a young baby (no one else was going to). She thanked me as I stood near to her trying to keep eye contact with the driver whilst allowing room for the endless queues of people who kept coming on board.

We drove through the outskirts of town where the driver indicated that my stop was imminent; I pushed my way through the crowds, thanked the driver, and departed the service. Letting the dust settle I looked at my surroundings; As I walked towards my destination part of me wished the office was within the town, as I was craving more McDonald's pineapple pie goodness (I have missed those). After asking numerous gate guards I finally found an entrance I was allowed to proceed through; in front of me was a large, bland, rectangle building with an antenna on top. The visa reception was manned by three people; with only one other customer I was served immediately by a young guy who spoke English. I provided my certificate, my passport and a photo and he, in return, asked me to fill out a form. He seemed pleasant enough and, as I wrote, we talked about boxing and Formula One. His joyous mood put me at ease and I could almost see my granted visa extension though, once I'd given back the form, he said that I'd have to come back on Wednesday. “Wednesday” I replied sounding a little shocked; “yes”, replied the assistant, “we need three days to check your details”. Having no choice I left my passport, thanked him, and turned around trying to hide my disappointment.

I did think about heading into the new town of Dali but instead I caught the bus back; the bus was a lot less crowded which gave me time to think. I was booked into my hostel until Tuesday and so another night was needed; this endless waiting was becoming a pain and time was slipping from me however I had no choice, I had to sit it out and wait. Once back at the hostel I extended my stay for a further night explaining my situation. I sat at the counter flicking through my diary; the earliest I could leave Dali was Thursday 12^th May and then I wanted to spend four nights within Lijiang before heading back to Kumming to catch the train to Luoyang. I would probably have to spend at least one night in Kumming before embarking on my two night train trip; this would make the date Thursday 19^th May. Three nights in Luoyang, with a further three nights in Xi'an, would leave five nights to get to Beijing and look around which, by all accounts, is cutting it a little fine. I dropped my laundry off at the hostel reception before heading out, still with the above predicament firmly within my head.

My destination was the lake front which, I estimated, would be a good hours walk away. I stopped within town for an early lunch, reading my guidebook and running through the predicament within my head. I was going to loose a lot of time travelling from Lijiang, through Kumming, to Luoyang (four nights) and I wondered whether a flight might be the best course of action. I would have to check the difference in price and, with that decision made, I closed my guidebook as lunch approached; I ate quickly and soon I found myself back on the streets of Dali heading east.

Of course, just like everything in China, trying to get to 'Er Hai's' river front proved difficult; I spent a while walking along Dali's main highway looking for a road east. After having dust blown into my face numerous times a road could be seen. The sign stated that it was 3km to the river and so I started to walk; within a minute or two I stumbled across a new housing estate. There was no one around and so I enjoyed the opportunity to take photos of buildings without hordes of people in my way. After ten minutes or so I realised that no one lived here; the buildings were all built, bus stops along the highway had been erected and the gardens had been landscaped beautifully and yet, peering through some of the windows, the rooms were left undecorated with no furniture. As I walked the site seemed to grow and the same story repeated itself; it did make excellent photography but it made me wonder why so made houses remained vacant. Thoughts of 'Silent Hill' came rushing into my head and, after a few photos, I left heading towards my destination. I kept walking noticing that - due to the road being straight - my destination never seemed to get any closer; buses passed me by, throwing dust within my path, as I looked out across the rice fields. Just like within Vietnam the fields consisted of the purest colour of green and, with the blue skies above, they made a pleasing site that you would miss being stuck on a bus. I saw many locals work the fields and many more sitting around drinking tea and playing cards.

Finally, heroically, I made it to a ticket barrier that prevented me from going any further. The ticket barrier was for the ferry that docked on the pier in front; to my right was a small stone bridge that lead to a stone path. Trees lined the rough pathway that I followed in the direction of the lake; the view, partially hidden by trees that lined the bank, was stunning and once more memories of Canada and New Zealand flooded into my head. I occasionally broke through the line of trees and balanced myself upon rocks to get photos of the view before me; I hadn't seen water this blue since New Zealand and, with the sky and the mountains in the background, it was a pleasant place to be. My only regret was that the path ended almost as soon as it begun; I'd only walked for five minutes when the path headed west back the way I'd come. I tried to find a way to continue along the river but there were no side streets, only the road I'd walked down. With no choice I reluctantly started the hours walk back to my hostel, once more seeing the same people working within the rice fields..

Before reaching the hostel I sat on a bench, along the main street with Dali, eating the chocolate and drinking the drink that I'd just purchased. It was nice to see people pass me by, in a world of their own, however I did get hounded by a guy who wanted to clean my shoes and a group of girls who wanted to take my photo without asking. Neither were successful. Once back at the hostel I got asked the bizarre question “... can turtles float?...” As my head tried to form some logical reason for said question I saw one hippy hold a turtle above a fish bowl. I replied that, considering the shell is quite heavy, I didn't think he would be able to float. “...But they can swim?...” was his reply to which I answered “... only some...”. With that the guy decided to give the turtle a bath by dunking him into the water three or four times; another hippy had just purchased two fish which she had put within a glass bowl. I couldn't fully hear the conversation but it sounded as though she was going to kill them in an 'artistic way to express herself'. I hate tree loving, acorn tea drinking, baggy trouser wearing hippies.

The evening soon came and rain began to fall. I found myself, once more, within the towns internet café; I did the usual stuff - checking emails and uploading photos – before investigating flight and train prices ... plus searching for accommodation within Lijiang. I'm not booking anything until I have my passport back with my visa extension; once that is done I'll start to get myself sorted. Tonight ear plugs!

Toodle Pip!

Hiking once more

Sunday 8^th May 2011

23 days left traveling the world.

MP3 track of the day: Climb every mountain – Sound of Music

Weather: Hot; however the further I ascended, up the mountain, the cooler it became. Temperature aside the weather was perfect; bright blue skies with fluffy white clouds … lovely

I awoke to a choir of snoring hippies; it would appear that at least three – one of which was a woman – of my eleven 'room mates' were snoring away each using a different tone, depth and length. Neither person was in time with the other and so trying to sleep was useless; I sat up in bed, trying to think of a song that sounded similar to the snoring that surrounded me but none came to mind. Eventually I got up and got ready.

I decided to try the 'Oreo cheesecake' today and, whilst it was very pleasant, it wasn't as nice as yesterdays cake. The absence of cream didn't help but, even so, I finished the cake before I'd even drunk half of my hot chocolate. The plan for today was to ascend as far up Zhonghe Peak as possible. Unfortunately my guidebook seemed vague on how to get to the base of the mountain; as I read it seemed that I had to start at a small bridge, on the highway just north of the town. Once there I had to walk through a cemetery before coming across a huge engraved stone. This description left me puzzled as to why I had to head north when Zhonghe Peak was due west. I didn't argue; I tilted my head back, drinking the last mouthful of hot chocolate, before getting up and heading towards the northern gate.

I walked for ages; at first I did indeed head north however, once I'd arrived at the 'San Ta' pagodas - that I'd visited yesterday - I knew that I'd gone too far. I therefore followed the main highway south, looking west. I walked up two or three side-streets searching for a bridge, cemetery or a huge engraved stone but none could be seen. After almost two hours of searching I walked up, what looked like, a main road due west of Dali. Half way up I met two tuk-tuk drivers trying to offer me a ride; I declined and continued walking west until I met a dead-end. As I came back down the road one of tuk-tuk drivers crossed my path showing me a photo of a cable car running up a mountain. I really wanted to walk up said mountain however, given the fact that even finding the entrance was proving difficult, I followed the way the tuk-tuk driver was pointing. She stopped me, once more, with her male college by her side; I think they were asking for either two Yuan to take me there, or two Yuan for the information they had divulged. Either way I wasn't paying and so I played the confused tourist by thanking them a lot before, once again, walking in the direction that they had pointed. As I walked the man got into his tuk-tuk and followed me; I'd give him ten out of ten for being persistent however he was a lot easier to shake off than the vultures within South East Asia.

As I thought a tuk-tuk ride wasn't necessary. I soon found myself approaching a gate with a ticket office to the right hand side; unlike most countries I found myself forced to pay an entrance fee (£3) to walk up a natural feature that no one man had the right to own … Kiwi's wouldn't put up with this! Just past the ticket office I saw the cable car departure point and, at only £2.50, I thought about taking the lazy way up. Even though I'd walked two hours to get this far I declined paying as the cable car was actually a ski lift. As I saw the benches swing helplessly within the air I decided that it was probably better keeping my feet firmly on the ground. I turned around and started along the mountain path; as I looked up the summit it seemed a long way a way.

Once I'd signed into 'check point one' I followed the path that the 'forest guard' had pointed to. Only after a few minutes of walking did I stumble upon a fork in the road; it was easy to determine which path I needed but I made a mental note of the junction for the return journey. As I continued walking I hoped that there weren't going to be too many more deviations ahead. I had barely begun walking when I noticed a young Chinese couple, within the middle of a multiple path junction, looking as lost as I did. With no signs we decided to walk together and keep the ski lift within site. Both were college students within Dali, the guy couldn't speak English whereas his girlfriend, who was cute, could speak a few words. The fact that neither were fluent in English didn't really matter as the ascent was steep and we kept talking to a minimum.

All around Chinese tombs could be seen and we had our first rest stop within the middle of some. Once sat down the girl asked why I hadn't taken the ski lift; as I had taken every step I'd been asking myself the same question and I said to her that I liked to walk … she smiled and said that they liked to walk too. Even though the pine trees provided some shade the day was still extremely hot; add to this the punishing pace we kept meant that I was regretting putting on a clean shirt today as it was already soaked in sweat. We kept pressing on, keeping one eye on the path and the other on the ski lift above. My guidebook stated that the ascent should have taken two hours however, with no signs, I think we had taken a much quicker ascending path and within an hour we were at the top. We walked slowly to the benches provided over looking the town of Dali; my guidebook stated that “... the views of the lake and the mountains beyond are stupendous...”. I agreed as I took my time photographing the panoramic view that lay below me. The sun was so fierce that it did 'white wash' the mountains within the back ground however that didn't matter much, just to be away from the crowds and to be given this exceptional view was fine by me.

My guidebook said very little other than about the view and the small temple which lay behind me; it was my new Chinese friends that said they were going to take the mountain walkway south to the far end. “... That's over 9km!...” I replied as I looked at my watch; the girl agreed innocently and stated that the guard estimated the hike would take three hours. Three hours there, three hours back and around two hours to get to Dali; as the time was 11am that would mean arriving back within Dali at 7pm cutting it tight for daylight. As I expressed my concerns the girl said that there was a cable car, at the other end of the walkway, which we could take to get back to the main highway. Glad that we wouldn't have to back-track I accepted their invitation to join them and, after going through another checkpoint, we set off south.

At first I wondered where my entrance fee had gone; the path up had been terrible with no signs and multiple routes. However, as I walked up the final steps to a stone paved path, I realised that the money had been well spent. The path ahead was at least three people wide with wooden barriers erected along it's exposed flank. The path was made from cut stone and was completely level; at first I wondered just how long this 'level path' would last until difficult ground would take over however, after an hour's walking, I realised that it would last the whole way meaning that we should make good time. I walked behind my two Chinese friends and, often, I would witness the guy push his girlfriend away from the edge and towards the safety of the mountain wall; he, being the man, would take the exposed flank but it did make me laugh as I noticed that he didn't like heights … still the act was cute. As I walked I couldn't help the smile upon my face become larger and larger. All of my senses were under attack; my eyes could see the mountains with a sheer drop below, my nose could smell the sent of pine mixed with mountain flowers, my ears could hear the slight sounds of nature and my taste buds were enjoying the strawberry sweet I was devouring. It was at this point that memories of the mountains of Canada, the glaciers of Alaska and the lakes of New Zealand all came back to me in one giant panoramic view. I realised that where I was now equalled any of those and I was glad to add this location to that mental image. As quickly as my smile appeared it faded and a frown, plus a lump within my throat, took it's place; I wondered when I would be able to see such wonderful places again. Travelling is both a blessing and a curse; you get to experience beautiful places but it leaves you not wanting to let go. With commitments, bound to come once home, I did wonder if I was ever going to see the places that had captivated me.

My thoughts were rudely interrupted as we came around a corner; unbeknown to us we had managed to catch up with a rather large group of Chinese students. Unable to keep quiet they were shouting, playing music and, what only can be described as, performing battle cries. The group was large and getting around them proved difficult; I would have pushed my way through, trying to extend the ground between the group and I as fast as possible, however my two Chinese friends seemed content with the group and so I had to endure it. I walked a little slower than previously, taking photos as I tried to block out the barbaric noise. No wildlife would be spotted whilst we remained entangled within this mob.

After another thirty minutes the mob stopped for a break; I was glad to see that my friends, in front of me, didn't follow suit and we were soon away. I over took them to set the pace trying to gain as much ground between us and the mob; they could still be heard for quite a while but, once round a rather sharp corner, the battle cries died and I was, once again, alone with only the beautiful view of the mountains and valley floor far below. We eventually made a stop of our own; I was glad for the time to take in food but I kept one ear pricked for the sound of the mob. Fortunately we didn't stay long and soon we were back on the stoned path. Once again the guy pushed his girlfriend towards the mountains walls and he resumed his flanking position.

On our walk we were supposed to deviate towards three attractions; The Phoenix and Dragon Eye caves should have been coming into view by now. There was also the Seven Dragon Maidens pools but all were closed as we approached. There was no explanation for the closure however I did wonder if they would have been worth seeing; looking over the edge, and towards the valley floor, the basin of a dried river could be seen clearly. It would appear that this wasn't the rainy season as every river, waterfall and stream were without water. Still I tired not to let this spoil the terrain as the area was truly stunning.

It was 2pm when we arrived at the gondola; there was one other attraction, that was open, which the Chinese two were interested in seeing. I was a little conscious of the time; it would take an hour of walking and gondola riding to make it back to the main highway and then, probably, another two hours of walking back to the town of Dali. Still remembering that, without these two, I wouldn't have found this path I followed their lead, eternally grateful for the day they have given me. As we climbed a set of steps towards the 'Qingbi Stream' I did wondered why my guidebook hadn't written about this beautiful walk; my only conclusion was that as my guidebook was written in 2008 - and this path seems very new – I can imagine that this scenic delight hadn't existed three years ago.

We made it to a viewing platform were we could see the 'Qinbi Stream'. Just like the other streams, rivers and waterfalls we viewed a basin which was empty of water. Yet the valley the water had cut was spectacular; we walked partway along the river bed stopping at the first sheltered bench for a rest. It was at this point that all three of us realised that we were tired and so we turned around and went back to the gondola. Just before reaching the departure building we stumbled upon a giant Chinese chess set constructed on a large, flat, stone surface surrounded by a sharp descent to the valley floor. Unfortunately the pieces were too heavy to move and I though that was a shame as this would have been a great place for a game. As I looked to the sky I saw gondolas swing past and I was glad to see that they were small capsules rather than ski lift benches. I joined the queue with my two new friends trying to get a discount with their student passes. However, alas, there was no discount available and we all had to pay fifty Yuan (£5) each.

We had a capsule to ourselves and the ride was enjoyable. I was glad to be descending due to witnessing a large dark cloud enveloping the tips of the mountains moving towards our position. The view wasn't as good as when we were walking as the stained plastic panels – of the gondola - prevented seeing out clearly; I looked around at the main towns below identifying which one was Dali and estimating how long it would take to walk there. Once off we walked down a few stone steps and into a car park; I was trying to find a footpath down to the highway whereas the couple were chatting to a guy who'd approached them. Within a flash they asked me to follow them and soon enough I sat within a small mini-van. As we started to move I asked how much the trip would cost and I was told twenty-five Yuan (£2.50); I wasn't sure if that was per person or for the hire of the vehicle, either way it wasn't bad value and I didn't complain.

The driver stopped at the southern gates of the city; the girl smiled thanking me for a lovely day and saying that they both had to go back to university. I opened my wallet to retrieve the agreed sum when she said no, they would pay. I tried to push as much money onto her as possible but she laughed and kept declining. I reluctantly put my money back within my wallet and thanked them for a great day; I waved them off before turning around and walking through the southern gate heading, not for my hostel, but for the local supermarket. Even though the supermarket wasn't on my way back I needed a chocolate fix; it didn't take long and soon I had a 'galaxy white' bar within my mouth as I back-tracked to my hostel. Even though it was 4pm I was totally shattered; I hadn't hiked like that since the Cameron Highlands in Malaysia. I spent the late afternoon chilling before heading to the local internet café to upload my photos and check on the F1 race. Having missed lunch I had a heartily evening meal before going for a long shower. As I got into bed I knew that no amount of snoring was going to wake me tonight!

Tomorrow I have to be up early to, hopefully, sort out my visa once and for all. I hope everything goes well tomorrow, I don't want to think about being rejected the extension as I'm not sure what I'll do. If all goes to plan then, after getting my extension, I want to book transport to Lijang – plus accommodation – and get some laundry done. It looks as though tomorrow will be a jobs day!

Toodle Pip!

The thought of dishonesty overshadows honesty

Saturday 7^th May 2011

24 days left travelling the world.

MP3 track of the day: Winter - Vivaldi

Weather: T-shirt weather during the day, whereas a coat was required within the early morning and evening.

I found myself, pacing the streets of Dali, a little too early for it to be useful; before heading to the pagodas I wanted to have eaten breakfast and exchanged the book that I held within my hands however, due to the time being 7:30am, every store was shut. I held my coat tightly against my body and placed my hat upon my head; without the sun's influence this town had a chill, but the town was no less beautiful. I walked around waiting for things to open, annoyingly tour groups had already started to appear. At 7:45am the 'Sweet Tooth' cafe was starting to open; as I walked past the shutters were being pushed aside, a young man was mopping the floor and the 'closed' sign had been flipped to open. I decided to give them a little longer before I descended demanding food; I walked around the block once more.

My guidebook stated that 'Sweet Tooth's' cheesecake was 'especially good', and it wasn't wrong in it's judgment. As I took my first mouthful, of the 'chocolate chip cheesecake' that I'd ordered, it seemed to melt within my mouth leaving my taste buds delighted. I continued eating, either adding a little fresh cream to the cake or swilling it down with the warm hot chocolate that sat to my left. After the last mouthful I sat back satisfied; the cost had been worth the taste and I pre-booked my table for the same time tomorrow. I walked the short distance required to the book shop; I found it closed and it would remain that way for another thirty minutes. Again I decided to aimlessly walk around the town noticing that the number of tourists seem to rise with every passing minute. Eventually I arrived back at the book store to find it open; once inside I failed to see the lady that I'd spoken to yesterday and so I inquired into her whereabouts. After being told that she would be in later I left, still with my novel within my hands.

Back at the hostel I grabbed my camera, from my locker, and left my coat on my bed. As I'd mentioned yesterday the plan was to head north to the 'San Ta' pagodas before returning to town, for lunch, and then heading south to 'Yita Si' pagoda. My guidebook stated that the 'San Ta' pagodas were located within a twenty minutes walk of the cities northern walls and it didn't take long before I could see the tops of the three, sand coloured, pagodas within the distance. Just like clockwork I found myself, twenty minutes later, within a large car park; in front of me was a tall wall with the three pagodas, slightly hidden from view, behind it. I went into the ticket office and stopped before I got to the counter. 121 Yuan (£12) was the admission cost and I left, disgusted at the price. Instead I decided to walk the perimeter of the walls taking cheeky photos when the opportunity arose. As I walked up a cobbled pathway I thought about the cost of things within China. Accommodation is dirt cheap with the average night costing me £3; food isn't too bad either but attractions are astronomically high meaning that you have to choose carefully what you see.

The time was 10am and the sun was coming into it's strongest; after taking a couple of photos of the pagoda, and the Chinese village surrounding it, I headed back into Dali. As if by magic I arrived at my hostel precisely at 11am. I stopped there for 'elevenses' before moving onto 'Yita Si' temple. This one was a lot closer to Dali than the 'San Ta' temples and it only took five minutes of walking to find it closed for renovation work; I cautiously walked onto the site to take a couple of photos, which a local didn't like. I took two shots before leaving sharpish.

Once again I found myself within my hostels common area; however this time I'd completed what I'd set myself to see, for the day, and it was only noon. I grabbed a drink and read my guidebook; I decided to head into Dali once more and continue through the town until I reached the lake. This, I thought, would take up the rest of the day and so I closed my guidebook satisfied that no further planning was required. Once in town I went back to the book store to find that the lady still wasn't there; I left, promising to return later. Sticking to my plan I continued walking east however, it soon became apparent that the logical decision would be to have lunch before departing the town for the lake. The only snag was that I didn't feel that hungry. I therefore decided to walk around the old walls of Dali before returning to the centre for a quick lunch and off to the lake.

As most of Dali's walls have been destroyed walking on them wasn't a possibility; instead I tried to follow the original town boundary at street level. This presented problems as a lot of private developments had sprawled either side of the walls blocking my route; after trying to follow the walls numerous times I gave up. I was tired and fed up so I went for an early lunch.

I know what 'Sweet 'n' Sour' chicken is and, what was placed in front of me, certainly wasn't it. I found that in the middle of a small plate, surrounded by slices of cucumber, sat chicken within a very dark brown sauce. Mixed in with this sauce were sesame seeds and, as I picked up my chopsticks and bit into the first piece of chicken, I knew that I'd should have gone for the burger. As I ate a Chinese guy sat in the seat opposite; slight stunned I stopped eating wondering if he was about to tell me that I was in fact digesting dog. He did not; instead he asked if I would like to join him, and his four friends, on the table opposite as he wanted to chat in English. A little annoyed I said that I would join him after I'd ate the meal that he'd interrupted.

I paid my bill and thanked the waitress for a delightful meal. I was cautious in joining the group at first; as I walked to their table I asked myself what did they want. I sat down and was offered a cup of tea; I rejected as I had my own drink to finish and I didn't want to be landed a bill. At first I was quite defensive, making sure that I had one hand on my wallet at all times. However, over time, I realised that there request had been genuine. I started to relax and answered all the questions they threw at me; I was surprised to find that one of them was studying Japanese, one had worked within Japan and both liked the country … maybe the hatred wasn't as wide spread as I thought. I was asked all the usual questions and, in the end, they said that they were in awe of me as I had been to so many places. I replied by saying that they could too but they looked horrified at the idea; they said that they wanted too but that they had to have a good job, a nice house and a partner or else people would think that less of them. It was interesting to see that the same social pressures that face me within the UK also seem important so far away. I explained that travelling could help them in gaining a better job and, even though some liked the idea, I could see it in their faces that travelling would remain just an idea.

I stayed for over an hour before making my excuses to leave. I had my photo taken and then I was off, back to the book store. As I walked towards the store I thought about one particular question I'd been asked. “...Had I had anything stolen?...” No was the honest answer and they looked stunned. Within my mind I re-evaluated my reply; I had said that I'd always kept my stuff locked and that, if anyone approached me on the streets, I would have walked away not giving a second glance. I had enjoyed chatting to the Chinese group and I wondered if I'd missed opportunities by being over cautious of my own safety and personnel possessions. It would appear that the thought of dishonesty overshadows honesty and I wondered if it would have been worth loosing a couple of possessions to gain more communication with locals. As I went through the door of the book store I realised that it was too late worrying about that now.

The lady was there and it didn't take much persuasion for her to hand over the book. She flicked through my book, happy with it's condition, before asking me for an additional sixty-five Yuan (£6.50). Once the book was within my hands I couldn't stop a huge smile appearing upon my face; the lady too seemed to smile and we shared a few sentences about the qualities of a good book. Before I left she gave me one of her book marks for free; I thanked her one last time before departing.

Once I'd purchased supplies, for tomorrows hike up the mountains, I returned to my hostel. Balancing weight with the need for food and drink I purchased a large bottle of water and a few sweet items. I didn't stay long within my hostel, all of the messy haired, bare foot, weed smoking hippies were out doing 'hippy' things. Some were banging bongos, others were saying how they came into the world from an acorn and another was reading someone's palm guessing that they liked to have three meals a day. I couldn't stand it and so I went to the internet café to upload my photos and check on the F1 qualifying results. Afterwards I headed for another early night; I wanted to start my new Roman adventure, I wanted get away from the bare chested, acorn tea drinking, 'maan' saying hippies … plus I wanted to get up early tomorrow to tackle this mountain.

Toodle Pip!

It was supposed to be so easy

Friday 6^th May 2011

25 days left traveling the world.

MP3 track of the day: It was supposed to be so easy – The Streets

Weather: Cold within the mornings and evenings, but very hot during the day.

I found myself roaming the empty streets of Dali at 8am; well, when I say empty, there were only a handful of people around - to spoil my photos - which made me think about getting up earlier within the coming days. Dali is an extremely pretty town with it's ancient walls, Chinese gates, stone streets and beautiful old buildings; this, however, means that it attracts many tourists though the mornings seem untouched by their presence. I realised, as I looked up at another ancient Chinese roof, that this was the China I had come to see.

As I walked, aimlessly around, I wandered into book shops looking for the final 'Emperor novel'. I was almost back at my hostel when, down a small alley, I saw a café called 'The Black Dragon'; the sign outside stated 'coffee, tea, books to read and books for sale'. I went through the wooden door to find a very happy looking Chinese lady, who spoke English perfectly, behind a very high marble counter. I immediately turned right, ignoring the counter, towards a rack of books that hid the back wall. I couldn't believe it, 'Emperor: The gates of Rome' was sitting there in the far corner of the middle row of books; I quickly picked it up, my eyes full of excitement, as I looked for a price tag. It took a little while to realise that this book was within the café's 'reading and borrowing' section … it therefore wasn't or sale. My heart sank however I wasn't prepared to give up; I spoke to the lady asking if I could purchase it. No was her answer – as getting hold of English novels, within China, is very difficult – however I said that, as I only had one chapter of my 'Emperor' book left could I exchange ... one 'Emperor' for another. It was at this point that I realised that she wasn't the owner of the store; she phoned her husband explaining my request. Once off the phone she said that she needed time to think about it; I too needed time to finish my book and so I said that I would return the following morning.

I got back to my hostel at 9am to get my visa sorted. It all sounded so easy; my passport details had been sent the previous evening – to the main visa office within 'Dali new town' – and, whilst they were being vetted, I had to go to the visa offices, within 'Dali old town', to get a 'certificate'. This certificate would show that I had accommodation within Dali; I was lead to believe that retrieving said certificate took seconds and, with it, I could go to the offices in 'Dali new town' where, hopefully, my details would have been vetted and I could swap my certificate for a shiny new thirty day Chinese visa … oh if only it was that easy.

I left my hostel full of hope; with the directions from the receptionist I made my way east taking photos as I went. The visa office was located within 'Dali old towns' main police station; I walked in cautiously, fully aware that the building reminded me of the school used, by the Khmer Rouge, as Toul Seng prison. I went up to the first officer I could find and presented him with a piece of paper – written on it, in Chinese, was what I wanted – and he told me to walk up to level three. I thanked him as I started to climb. Toul Seng was fully within my mind as I walked, gingerly, up the concrete steps; the structure was made out of concrete and it looked like an old residential block marked for demolition. Once at level three I approached an office with an officer, and another person, peering at a computer screen. I waited outside making my presence obvious; I didn't want to walk in on some confidential business. It took them a while to invite me in; as I walked to the officer I handed him my piece of paper. He looked at me blankly and shouted something in Chinese; I returned the blank stare and, only when the guy next to him wrote 'Monday', on my piece of paper, did I realise that I would leave empty handed. I thanked the officer for nothing and started the forty-five minute walk back to my hostel.

As I walked through my hostels front door the receptionist smiled at me asking for the certificate that she was sure I would have; I swung my head slowly from side to side and told her that I had to go back on Monday. Not happy with this she immediately phoned the offices within 'New town Dali'; once off the phone she said that the officers there were as mystified as we were as to why I wasn't given a certificate. Given that the time was nearing lunch -and that offices would be closed shortly – there was little we could do until the afternoon. I thanked the receptionist for all of her work as I turned to head into the old town once more.

Tour groups had appeared without warning and the streets were becoming busy; the time was around 11am therefore 'elevenses' beckoned. I found a café called 'sweet tooth' (how fitting) where I ordered a slice of carrot cake and a coke; the cake was nice enough and I thought that I might have found a place for future breakfasts. As I was eating another mouthful I flicked through my guidebook forming a plan for the next three hours; I decided to stay within the old walls of Dali for today, I would head to a church, not too far from the café, before climbing up the south gate for a view of the town. After there was another church to see and, if I still had time, I would form a new plan over lunch. I snapped my book closed, paid my bill and walked out.

After taking the wrong turn I eventually found one of the most bizarre looking Christian churches that I've seen. Designed as an ancient Chinese temple the only Christian symbol, on the building, was a cross stuck to the top of the roof; I took many photos as I liked the fact that, with it's ancient roof, the church blended in with the rest of Dali however you could easily tell its function. Afterwards I moved through the many tour groups towards the southern gate. Costing two Yuan (20p) to climb meant that only a few tourists were manning the walls. The view around was staggering; within the foreground were many, grey, old roofs which looked as thought they were piling on top of one another. A line of mountains loomed in the background and, with a blue sky above, the whole scene became very photogenic.

After a few photos I found myself on the cobbled streets of Dali once more. I found the northern church with ease however it wasn't as pretty as the other one. It was getting close to 1:30pm; I had to be back at my hostel within an hour and I hadn't had any lunch. As I walked towards the main street – where most of the restaurants were – I bumped into the French family I met yesterday. They were already taking lunch and so I kept the conversation brief; I chatted to the student about my visa problems and he replied saying that they were off tomorrow. I wished them all the best and hoped to meet up later. Not far from where the French family were dining I found a small travellers café; I sat inside as far away from the door as possible. The reason behind this was, unfortunately, it's seems that Dali holds similarities with South East Asia in that the locals come up to you and ask if you would like to purchase something. Yet again I've been reminded that my shoes are dirty, yet again I've been told that a whistle, the seller was holding, was lucky and yet again it's become annoying. As I tucked into my meal, within the dark corner I'd found, I still wasn't safe; during a mouthful of noodles I heard a female voice ask me if I wanted gangea. Not only was I eating but this was the fifth time, this morning, that this woman had asked me; I gave her a stern no before I watched her leave. I then returned to my meal.

I was back at my hostel early; I surfed the internet waiting for the correct time. Once the clock struck 2:30 I went to reception where I found the receptionist already calling the visa office; it would appear that an inquiry had been made at 'old Dali town's' offices and that their reply was that the officer I needed to see had been called out on an emergency. It would also appear that my details hadn't been received by 'new Dali towns' office either; with this result that there was little I could do until Monday. As my visa doesn't expire until next Friday (going into Hong Kong reset my visa; If I'd known this then I would have entered Hong Kong at a much later date). I thanked the receptionist, once again, for her work. With an F1 race weekend looming I inquired into whether Dali – being a major tourist destination – had a sports bar. The receptionist looked puzzled but then gave me the details of a bar close by; once there the owner said that they were unable to show the F1 but gave me another bar to try. I decided, given that this other bar was much further into town, I would investigate later. For now I went back to my hostel to chill for the afternoon.

The afternoon moved into the early evening where I eventually got up and head into town. The internet at my hostel is slow at best therefore I paid three yuan (30p) to visit an internet café where I managed to upload thirty photos, from the day, within thirty minutes. Once completed I checked the other bar to see if F1 races are shown, alas they aren't. I came back to the hostel where I ate, finished my book (it's taken me nine days to read this book) and went for an early night. So it's been a painful day; my visa extension sounded so promising last night and, here I am, having to wait until Monday. Tomorrow I'll head back to the book store before investigating four pagodas that surround Dali. Sunday I'll hike up 'Zonghe Peak' for “...views of the lake and the mountains which are stupendous...” or so my guidebook states, before reading the F1 race highlights. For now another early night beckons; I want to be up before the tour groups arrive.

Toodle Pip!

Two very different humps

Thursday 5^th May 2011

26 days left travelling the world.

MP3 track of the day: Boys, boys, boys – Lady Ga Ga (it was being played within the coach as I head to Dali)

Weather: Warm within Dali which surprised me. I thought, being closer to the mountains, it would be cooler than Kumming but apparently not.

365 days ago you would have found me on a 'midland mainline' train bound for London; my destination … Canada. Yes folks today marks a year of travel (bar the six weeks at home for my sisters wedding) and how fast that year has gone. I can still remember every detail of that fateful day; I remember eating my mum's Victoria sponge cake (umm … cake) on the train and I remember watching the UK election take place within my 'comfort hotel' room. If I could turn the clock back I would, only because I loved Canada and, if I'm honest, I wish I was there rather than China.

*********

Amazingly being in a twelve bed dorm I had the room to myself, until 6am, when three backpackers turned up. They hadn't woken me up; I'd gone to bed at 9pm the previous evening and, by 6am, I'd slept enough. I got up and had a lazy start to the day, eating breakfast before leaving for my coach to Dali.

As the day was still young the sun hadn't risen to it's highest peak, therefore the temperature was cool. I made my way to where I needed to catch a city bus to the 'West Bus Station'; following the map my hostel had given me wasn't the best idea as the road that I required was named incorrectly. Correcting the mistake I found my stop and boarded the bus I needed showing the driver a small piece of Chinese text that, should have, stated that I wanted to go to the 'West Bus Station'. A slight nod from the driver indicated that I was in the right place and so I sat down. After twenty minutes of 'stop start' travel an old lady boarded and tried to communicate with me; as hard as I tried to understand her I got little information. I showed her the same piece of paper that I had shown the driver; she spoke to the elderly Chinese gentleman next to me and, after many attempts, I finally realised that she wanted me to follow this gentleman as he was heading to the same destination as I.

The old lady departed with a kind smile; not long later the old gentleman, and I, departed the bus and he continually pointed as we walked the short distance to the bus station. Once at the gate he pointed once more; I thanked him before he gave me a light slap on the back for good luck. I had arrived too early to ask where my coach would be departing from therefore I sat down and read about Dali. Once completed I checked the time to find that there was only thirty minutes until my bus was due to depart; I got out of my seat and asked the first assistant I saw. It wasn't long before a civilian looking gentleman grabbed my coach ticket, out of my hands, examining it closely; he returned it to me before asking me to take a seat. I did so, but my eyes were firmly fixed on the clock to the right of me. With fifteen minutes until departure the gentleman returned and beckoned me to follow him; he lead me through the ticket gate and onto a coach that had 'Kumming – Dali express' written on the side. Once on I found the coach extremely clean; the carpets had been swept, the chairs were immaculate and the windscreen was crystal clear. My only concern was what were the seven yellow buckets, dispersed evenly down the isle, for. My initial thought was that they were for the Chinese to spit in as we travelled (as it turned out they were rubbish bins); I grimaced at the thought and looked at my MP3 players battery life … only one bar.

Due to having allocated seats being first on the coach didn't help, however it was unclear which seat was five and which seat was six. As my seat number was six I made the executive decision that it must be the one closest the window and decided that, if anyone wanted to argue, I'd play the innocent tourist. The coach slowly started to fill with almost every seat being taken; behind me sat a couple with their young daughter. She was extremely cute however she wouldn't stop kicking the back of my chair throughout the entire journey. Even though I boarded, with fifteen minutes until departure, some customers left it until the last minute and we departed late.

The view to start with wasn't anything spectacular; once out of Kumming's outskirts industry destroyed whatever view there was. Add to this the frequent tunnels, the high bank sides against the road and the constant advertising billboards the view was starting to become a let down. During this time I became fascinated with the coach drivers total disregard for signs; when a sign appeared for 'no pipping' he pipped his horn (which he did all the way through the journey … it was like being back within South East Asia), when a sign appeared instructing a 'hard shoulder lane' he drove in it and when a speed limit appeared he seemed to try to break it as some kind of sport. I wouldn't say his driving was scary through the way he switched lanes continuously, and drove in the back of the car in front of him, did make me keep my eyes on the road. All along cardboard 'cut out' police officers appeared from hedges, at the ends of tunnels and near toll booths; it did make me laugh as I wondered if they were to stop dangerous driving or to be used as targets.

After our lunch stop the view dramatically improved; the high banks surrounding the road fell, the tunnels lessened and the mountains moved back presenting fields, trees and houses. The further away from Kumming the more the houses looked authentic; small communities could be seen surrounded by farmland. Within the fields many Chinese people were working and it would appear, in the middle of all this Chinese development, that the peasant life still continued. It was lovely to see though, looking at the buildings, I did wonder if electricity, hot water and proper sanitation had reached these parts.

We arrived in Dali around 3pm, however it wasn't the Dali that I was expecting. Dali is supposed to be a small ancient town with fortified walls; as I peered out of the window tall modern skyscrapers could be seen and dwellings sprawled out as far as the eye could see. Our coach had stopped within 'Dali new town'; the old town was 19km away. Ignoring the taxi drivers offers I alighted the coach and pushed my way through the crowds to the bus station. After a prolonged period of pointing, and looking up Chinese words within my guidebook, I found out that, instead of paying £5 for a taxi, I could get bus number eight for 15p; where bus number eight departed from was another question and I left the 'long distance bus station' in the direction of the attendants finger. I was almost ready to give up on said bus when I met three European's looking as lost as I. The party consisted on one French guy – around my age – studying Chinese within Kumming and his French parents who had come out to spend their holiday with him. I introduced myself and it worked out that we were all trying to head to the same destination. I told the French student that we needed bus number eight and he, in return, asked some locals where we could board said bus. Once on board he checked, one final time, with an old guy sitting next to him. The old guy replied saying that number eight bus was the bus we wanted however this wasn't that service; after a few of the other Chinese people around him said that this was the number eight bus he jumped up, demanding to be allowed off after boarding incorrectly. It took a good twenty minutes to reach Dali; As we travelled there I had a lady, and her infant, sat next to me; I was growing fond of the two as the boy seemed very inquisitive … that was until the lady allowed him to wee in the buses isle.

As 'old Dali' came into view I relaxed a little as it was how I expected; narrow cobbled streets, old Chinese buildings and mountains in the back ground made the whole place look very appealing to the eye; I was looking forward to exploring. The coach dropped us off in the middle of town and the French decided to follow me to my accommodation; this proved to be very helpful as the student asked residents for directions. I chatted to him with his mother and farther behind; neither of his parents spoke English and I felt guilty that I had stolen their son away, given that they wouldn't have that much time with him. We went this way and that for ages; the sun was past it's peak and yet I was still getting hot and tired. A few of the Chinese people we asked for directions had given us incorrect information but, finally, we made it to 'The Dali Hump'. I checked in without a problem however the French, having not pre-booked, were told that the hostel was full. As the receptionist rung around other guest houses I felt guilty for dragging them all the way here for nothing; I was just about to show them my guidebook, which had a list of places, when the receptionist got off the phone having found them a room within five minutes walking distance. I said goodbye hoping to meet up later.

My dorm was different from 'The hump' within Kumming; I'd hoped that they might have been part of the same group but, looking at the basic room before me, I knew instantly that they weren't. My bed within Kumming had a small personal shelf for my stuff, my bed here didn't even have walls as it was erected high in the middle of the room. I had a locker at least and so I put my stuff away before exploring. My fellow tenants all looked a little 'too hippy' for my liking; within the forecourt sat three grass eating, daisy hugging call me 'lone wolf' hippies dressed in their hippy clothes with their hippy hair. As I continued my search I noticed that there were only two showers, but there was an art gallery where tenants were free to 'express themselves'. As I nervously peered around the corner I saw another four nut eating, weed smoking, harmony preaching hippies within said room doing … something. I whipped my head back around quickly and departed to the reception; I had an important question to ask.

I need to extend my visa and I was pleasantly surprised when the receptionist took all my details down and emailed the 'PSB' office; the receptionist said that tomorrow they will confirm that the office had received my details and I should be able to pick up my extended visa. Quite stunned I said thank you before heading to the bar.

Today had been a long day and, to make it longer, the internet doesn't seem to work within the hostel making my headache grow. After sorting out the problem I went to sleep early; tomorrow I hope to pick up my visa before having a look around the town. If I am able to get my visa tomorrow, and I decide that this town is too 'hippy' for me, I may look at moving on earlier than expected … again.

Toodle Pip!