My students' interviews with their grandparents

I had my high school history students do an "oral history" project, interviewing their grandmother or grandfather. I've highlighted some of the results below, sorted into thematic categories. In most cases I've left things in the students' own words, although I edited a few grammar mistakes for my readers at home. I think you'll find there's some very poignant stuff in here. Some of this should be common knowledge to anyone who knows anything about China in the 1950s and 1960s, but still it makes a difference to be hearing it from the mouths of the real, live grandparents of my thirty students. Some tidbits are genuinely new to me, as well.

Most of my students are fairly well-off, and thus probably come from traditionally well-off Chinese families. As a result, many of them suffered greatly during the Cultural Revolution and associated purges and campaigns against "rightists" and "capitalists" under Mao Zedong. Politics and the Cultural Revolution are still fairly sensitive topics in China even today, with most Chinese history classes only just glancing over the period and acknowledging it as a "mistake" without going into much detail. With this in mind, I warned my students that they should at least be cognizant of sensitive issues. I didn't tell them what questions to ask or not ask. Their questions were entirely their own. Some stuck to safe material, clothes and entertainment and food. But several dug right into politics. And judging by the results, many of their grandparents were wiling to talk openly about that turbulent period in China's still-recent past. The overwhelming majority of these grandparents' views towards the Cultural Revolution were highly negative, and sure enough several of them personally suffered persecution, or knew those who did.

I subsequently had the students write reflections on what they had personally learned from this assignment, and their responses were truly moving. While Chinese children have a great deal of contact with their grandparents (often living together in the same homes) I get the feeling they don't often talk to their grandparents about the past. Many students seemed genuinely surprised and moved by some of the things they learned, and I sensed a profound realization of how lucky they are to have been born when they were, and to be able to enjoy the fruits of a vastly different China than the one their grandparents knew at their age. I've often been dismayed at the apparent degree to which consumerism has already penetrated society especially for the young generation of Chinese. I hope that what they said in their reflections is true, that they appreciate the hard lives that their grandparents suffered to make China what it is today, living through World War II, and the Cultural Revolution, and that they will cherish the good fortune they have, and try to honor their elders by being more frugal and hard working themselves.

Occupations
    •    Tea house owner
    •    Many people had a bad attitude about work. They pretended they were ill so they didn't have to work.
    •    My father was a very nice landlord.
    •    My dream was to drive a tractor.
    •    When I was 12 I went to work in the public market as a shop assistant.
    •    When I was 17 years old I became a teacher, and I held this job for 30 years
    •    I moved from the countryside to the city to be a nurse when I was 18. I was a very hardworking girl. I met my husband when he was in the hospital.
    •    The most popular job was to be a civil servant. But I sold vegetables for a living.
    •    I was a surgeon in the armed forces.
    •    I worked in an American tobacco company.
    •    I chose to be a teacher. It was the best job for normal people in that time. The school provided our food. It was a good job for a girl from a poor family.
    •    Salesclerk selling traditional Chinese medicine.
    •    Our family was in the silk business. Every year they made a lot of money, enough for the whole family of 30 people to use. We had several servants.

Love, Marriage, and Family
    •    My marriage wasn't arranged. My husband and I had the freedom to choose our spouse.
    •    At that time, you couldn't sing any songs or read any books about love
    •    We usually got married very early, at 15 or 16 years old. We had babies very quickly.
    •    Boys and girls almost never talked to each other. We were very shy at that time. My mother's friend introduced my husband to me.
    •    We didn't know anything about gays at that time. Gays didn't exist.
    •    We were poor. My father only had two wives.
    •    Many people went to Taiwan at that time when the land reform happened, but I didn't. My father was dead and I had to take care of my family.
    •    My father had three wives and six children. Our family was once great and rich, but fell into decline under Mao's rule. Our money was all taken by the government and given to the masses.

Food
    •    We ate meat once a week. I wished I could eat it every day.
    •    We only had a little food, like rice. We hardly ever had meat.
    •    Because my husband was a government official, the government gave us food every week, including potatoes, maize, and noodles. We ate meat about once a week..
    •    A common snack was tofu with a little sugar on it
    •    We usually ate noodles and vegetables. We only ate meat a few times a year, at New Years and other festivals. We almost never ate fruit, except for watermelon in the summer.
    •    I came from a well-off family, so we could eat meat, fish, and rice. After my father died, we weren't as well-off. We mostly ate rice bran, sweet potatoes, and so on.

Entertainment
    •    There were just a few TVs in my town. We had one of them. We used to open our house to the townspeople to come and watch TV
    •    We loved watching movies about the Communist army's defeat of the Japanese
    •    For fun, I played ping pong, went fishing, and went on picnics
    •    I'd invite other women to come to my home and make handicrafts and shoes for the children.
    •    There were black and white movies. We watched them once a month. When we went to watch the movie, he had to bring our own chairs, and some people just sat on the ground. The movies were all about war, and people who sacrificed their lives for China. But it was a little expensive for our family.
    •    We had some simple comic books.
    •    We played spun tops, kicked the shuttlecock, caught frogs, and played with crystal balls, sandbags, and rubber bands
    •    Hiking in the mountains
    •    My favorite thing to do was to ride my bike, because it was new and we didn't have many new things.
    •    We dug holes in the ground and found steel balls and stones. Then we had a competition to see who could make the ball into the hole first. It was kind of like snooker. We didn't think it was boring at the time.
    •    We played mahjong to amuse ourselves.

Material Things
    •    My nicest things were a pretty dress, and a simple camera
    •    There were two cars in my entire town.
    •    Our homes were made out of dirt and tiles. When it rained, although the roof didn't leak, the ground was very wet and sometimes became mildewed.
    •    You couldn't wear very colorful clothes. For girls, you had to wear thick, formless clothes.
    •    We did not know what a TV was. After dinner we went for a walk and chatted with each other.
    •    Clothes only came in three colors - black, white, and navy blue. They were frugal and dull.
    •    I didn't want a nice dress, because we thought that being too open was not a good thing.
    •    We needed government-issued tickets to buy everything, including bicycles, meat, and clothes. Most people walked. Only the rich people could afford bicycles.

Health
    •    The nearest hospital was in the city, several days' walk away.
    •    I was very surprised to learn that my grandfather didn't have to pay for his medicine. Maybe this was one of the few advantages of communism.

War
    •    I saw American soldiers in Kunming during World War 2. They were very perky.
    •    I saw a Japanese airplane crash over the Black Dragon Pool
    •    When the Japanese attacked, some women came to my house to avoid being raped by the Japanese soldiers. We couldn't stay locked inside forever so I went out to get some food. One of my friends met a Japanese solider outside. He killed the Japanese soldier. He was so proud!

Education
    •    We had to walk for three days to get to school.
    •    I didn't go to school. I married at 18.
    •    I dropped out of primary school in grade three to help my parents plow the land because I was the oldest child in my family. I had two sisters and one brother.
    •    We only had two subjects: Chinese and Math.
    •    Our school was very terrible! We did not have desks, chairs, blackboards. We wrote on the ground. I left school very early because I did not have enough money for school.
    •    I went to South West Associated University
    •    [in response to the question "Did your parents allow your sister to go to school?"] Of course, we were enlightened in that time!
    •    I wasn't able to go to college, because we were criticized as landlords. I wanted to be a doctor like my brother, but I wasn't allowed to go to college, so I learned all the medical knowledge by myself. When the Red Guards came to my house and said we were capitalists, I hid my medical books on the mountain so they couldn't destroy them.

Religion
    •    In our ethnic minority we believed in Christianity. But during that time religion was illegal, so we worshiped secretly. When the government found out we were practicing Christianity, they held a meeting and we were all criticized.

Mao Zedong
    •    When he died I smiled. In fact, the whole village smiled.
    •    I don't know how to judge him. He did a lot for us, but he also hurt us too.
    •    He is one of the greatest politicians in the world. His work style is good. However, it is not democratic.
    •    The most proud thing was to be a farmer, because at that time Chairman Mao said so
    •    Mr. Mao made us make iron
    •    Some people thought Mao Zedong was very good, and thought we should follow his example and adhere to the Communist Party. But some others didn't think so, they thought we should go with capitalism. In this way, wars happened.
    •    I was an intellectual, and you know, according to Mao, intellectuals were the weakest members of society. So my life was very hard.
    •    Mao's actions were a little terrible, but his thinking was right. He was a man who was able to view things in the big picture. If we didn't have the cultural revolution, today's China wouldn't be able to see the good of development

Cultural Revolution
    •    Many people were killed. It was a stupid and ludicrous thing.
    •    Everyone was a afraid. Sometimes you saw your relatives or friends were caught by the Red Guards. Some rich men were killed or paraded through the streets. Everyone was afraid of the "special meetings".
    •    My brother was persecuted. I escaped with my children.
    •    A lot of good people were persecuted by the Red Guards. They also destroyed a lot of old buildings. Because we were landlords, our house was despoiled by the Red Guards.
    •    It's very difficult to explain...
    •    If your family lived abroad you weren't allowed to see them, because the government made you cut off all your relationships with the capitalist world
    •    People were always hiding and afraid that their enemies would find them. There life was so sad, no freedom.
    •    The cultural revolution was really bad for the people and the economy. I hope it never happens again!
    •    The people were told to believe that rich people's children were bad, so many people hated us.

Which do you think is better? The past or the present?
    •    Of course the present! We have more food to eat. We have you wonderful grandchildren. Our life is more comfortable.
    •    Of course the present! China is so much more developed, peaceful, and prosperous today
    •    I like the past better. At that time, we were more innocent, and the environment was better.

Culinary China collages

A collection of photos and photo collages illustrating a wide panoply of culinary experiences I've had in China.

Below is an example of one of the 30+ collages you can see by following the above link to the album on Google+

Cool Finds on Google Earth in China

Before and After: Construction of a tunnel under Kunming's Dianchi Lake 

 An alpine lake tucked into the high mountain peaks that form the boundary of Yunnan and Myanmar

 This is the international border between Hekou, China and Lao Cai, Vietnam. It's an interesting place, with a 100+ year old French-built narrow gauge railway and the Red River running through. The region has recovered from the Sino-Vietnam war that ravaged the area 30 years ago and today trade is number one, with hundreds of Vietnamese carrying huge loads of Chinese goods across the border bridge every morning on bicycle. It's also a city of vice, with an enormous amount of prostitution and gambling.

 A luxury housing development on a hillside outside Kunming. 

 Road construction in rural Yunnan province. Note the massive viaducts and hill cuts in the upper pictures.

 Pu'er tea plantations in Yiwu, Xishuangbanna

 These images are of Ximeng (西盟)， a small county seat near the border of Yunnan and Myanmar. This is the new county seat, built from scratch a couple decades ago, to replace the old county seat which is slipping down a hillside high above. The city itself is tiny, with just a few blocks and no traffic lights. But the situation is awesome, nestled at the foot of a great green cloak of rainforested mountain, with a lovely lake (the dragon pool) beside.

 A case study in urban density contrast. Note the luxury housing development highlighted in the upper three pictures, contrasted with the older urban fabric in the lower pictures. 

 The city of Zhenxiong (镇雄) in northeast Yunnan.

Satellite Images Copyright Google Earth

McDonalds Fishwich and "Sustainable Development"

McDonalds in China has been running a series of paper liners for their trays that feature different products from their lineup, such as the Fishwich, Chicken McNuggets, and the Big Mac. Each one is accompanied by a picture of the raw ingredient in nature (a fish, a baby chick, a happy cow) and a written description extoling the virtues ("pure", "100%", "sustainable development"), nutritional, environmental and other, of the product.

Pretty hilarious if you ask me. It's a lot to claim for what is highly processed junk food. I can't imagine McDonalds publishing anything like this in the US and getting away with it. The Chinese are traditionally health concious and, given recent food safety scares, food safety conscious, so I can understand the marketing strategy McDonalds is using here to assuage Chinese customers. However, it's hard for me to believe they they're really this gullible.

Here is my translation of the text:

Taste and look, McDonalds' Fishwich features fresh, tender, delicious pollack!

McDonalds' pollack grows wild in the cold deep waters off Alaska. It has earned the MSC (Seafood Management Board) seal of approval. Our fishing methods are in keeping with sustainable development strategies. The fishmeat is fragrant and sweet, and full of protein and vitamins. From the sea to our restaurant, our pollack is rigorously checked at every step of the way, so that you can eat safely and heartily.

This is McDonalds Fishwich. The finest 100% pure Alaskan pollack, nutritious and delicious in every bite!

MY CRITIQUE OF "INVISIBLE CHILDREN'S KONEY 2012 CAMPAIGN"

So my immediate reaction after watching the now famous viral video by the NGO Invisible Children was "wow, this is a very well-produced piece of propaganda". I don't mean that as a criticism. Propaganda has its place. Propaganda is media intended to influence peoples' opinions. The makers of this video clearly are experts at using digital technology and social media to advance their cause. The fact that their video has gone viral is a testament to their skill in this regard. I'm sure other NGOs are perhaps more than a little jealous of this, and could only wish that their own causes and propaganda could have such reach. And that potential jealousy is something to keep in mind when considering the criticisms that they have of IC.

Some have focused on the fact that only 32% of IC's budget goes directly to projects helping Ugandans, while much of the rest goes on media and awareness raising and travel. This I don't have such a problem with. Many NGOs are the same.

The criticism that I have, and that are echoed below, are more about the content and strategy and underlying ethos being the cause and its goals. I've posted below 10 pieces of background, commentary, and criticism, nine of them published in the last 3 days, and one from last November when the US sent "advisers" to Uganda. Finally, I read IC's direct responses to these criticism, also below.

My most visceral reaction to the video was that the narrator is a shameless publicity hound, obsessed in his own self-image and celebrity. So much of this video was about HIM, his SON, and his NGO. I felt that the time given to the issue itself was frustratingly little. Many have criticized that the video doesn't go into more depth and provide more context about its purported subject. I can understand this deficit. They're going for the widest audience possible. Sometimes simplifying complex issues is a virtue. I don't fault the video for simplifying things. Any one who watches this video and wants to do something should certainly go do their own research. The lack of detail is easy enough to supplement.

I'm more troubled by the overriding obsession the video, and the NGO, has with Joseph Koney, who is made a singular personification of evil. I just don't think all attention and effort the group is trying to put towards the capture of this single man is necessarily worth it. The LRA surely has other leaders, too, and if Koney were captured, another leader would replace him. Not to mention the fact that the tragic phenomenon of child soldiers is hardly unique to Joseph Koney's group in particular. In fact, the Ugandan army which IC supports has been accused of using child soldiers itself.

I was also immediately aware of the film's paternalist, white man's burden attitude, hardly unique to this NGO, but a problem in much of the western NGO industry. The idea that Africans need white people to save them. Honestly, the criticisms below, which include many from Ugandans themselves, cover this topic in great detail and it would be better to just let them speak for themselves.

The solution itself I think is highly problematic. Send in the US army to catch the bad guy. Needless to say, I'm quite opposed to US military intervention abroad in almost all cases. The Vietnam war began with mere "US military advisers" as well. I'm not against military action to take out monsters. But the US has already done enough damage around the world, assassinated enough leaders, meddled in enough country's internal affairs, that I think any sort of action must be multilateral. In this case, through the African Union or UN.  It's also quite ironic that while the film features the International Criminal Court (an organization whose mission I admire and support), the United States remains the only Western country besides Israel opposed to the ICC, and openly refusing to ratify its convention.

About the issue of "awareness". I'm not against anyone making documentaries with the goal of making more Americans aware of global issues. That's admirable and important. Americans are far too ignorant and need to know more about the rest of the world. But I don't think that millions of Americans running around with bracelets and posters (all of which come out of IC's budget) is going to do much good.

The idea that social media can help make important causes "go viral" is a powerful one. God knows, there are plenty of injustices and problems in the world that deserve to go viral just as much as Koney and the LRA. But I would worry about a sort of fatigue that will happen if more and more causes try to copy the script of IC. People aren't going to run around with bracelets and posters for every new cause forever. If so much effort is going to be waged for a cause, then I think it ought to be something on a grander scale than the arrest of one single dictator.

The downside of social media is that it's too easy. All you have to do is click on the link, "like" it, share it on your wall, and you are suddenly an activist. The 60 million views in the last three days are impressive indeed. But how much will most of those viewers still care in a few months, in a few weeks? The social media landscape is so cluttered with information, ideally suited for a generation with short attention spans. When I see a propaganda message as powerful as this, I'm immediately prompted to go and scour the rest of the internet for commentaries and critiques of it (in this case, I found a lengthy discussion by several of my Penn State classmates on this topic, which is where I found several of the links below). But how many average Facebook users do that?

Finally, it's worth noting that while the ability of social media to make documentaries go viral is quite exciting, it's also quite dangerous. Any piece of media carries inherent bias. Films especially so. There are hundreds of videos about civil wars and child soldiers in Africa on YouTube. What is is that made this one in particular go so viral? I imagine it has something to do with the production value. The filmmakers obviously know their digital film making and editing software well. The film looks good, professional. And the celebrity endorsements via Twitter probably didn't hurt either. But its a bit worrying if anyone with money to produce a slick looking video promoting his or her cause, from his or her point of view, with all the proper tugging-on-ones-heartstrings touches, can command such attention.

  
Commentary/background/critiques:

http://projectdiaspora.org/2012/03/08/respect-my-agency-2012/

http://ericswanderings.wordpress.com/2012/03/06/invisible-children-and-joseph-kony/

http://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/136673/mareike-schomerus-tim-allen-and-koen-vlassenroot/obama-takes-on-the-lra?page=2

http://innovateafrica.tumblr.com/post/18897981642/you-dont-have-my-vote

http://i.imgur.com/K3mgn.jpg

http://adayintheflippinlife.blogspot.com/2012/03/kony-2012-do-your-research.html

http://blogs.independent.co.uk/2012/03/07/stop-kony-yes-but-dont-stop-asking-questions/

http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/03/09/african-critics-of-kony-campaign-hear-echoes-of-the-white-mans-burden/?scp=4&sq=Kony2012&st=cse

http://www.clutchmagonline.com/2012/03/is-the-kony-2012-viral-vid-another-case-of-white-savior-syndrome/comment-page-2/#comments

http://www.wrongingrights.com/2012/03/the-definitive-kony-2012-drinking-game.html

Invisible Children's response to the critiques:

http://s3.amazonaws.com/www.invisiblechildren.com/critiques.html

Job listings and salaries in a small Chinese city

Thought folks might find this interesting. Recently, passing through a small city in Yunnan Province called Yuxi (玉溪), I was waiting for my breakfast (饵块...barbecued rice cakes with peanut sauce) and next door to the rice cake shop was a job agency, with hundreds of jobs listed on a chalkboard. I took a photo of one of the chalkboards, translated the jobs into English, and converted the salaries from Chinese Renminbi into US Dollars. The salaries listed are monthly. With the exception of the sales jobs, all of these jobs also provide free food and accommodation.

• Freight handler $472-$630
• Freight shipping handler $189-$252
• Electrician-plumber-machine repairman $315-$472
• Lathe operator $472-$630
• Boiler operator $252-$394
• Iron worker $283-$315
• Cook $283-$472
• Assistant cook $189-$283
• Hot pot restaurant server $142-$189
• Cashier $189-$283
• Cafeteria worker $126-$157
• Office clerk $157-$252
• Supermarket appliance and makeup salesperson $283 + commission
• Building material salesperson $94-$126 + commission
• Book salesperson $394-$472 + commission
• Large vehicle driver $189-$252
• Small vehicle driver $283-$394
• Digging machine operator $283-$394
• Machine installer $315-$472
• Mechanic (large and small vehicles) $315-$472
• Mechanic (digging and construction machinery) $394-$472
• Welder (odd jobs) $394-$472
• Welder (tractors) $472-$630
• Welder (containers) $315-$472
• Welder (iron railings) $472-$630
• Welder (mixing machine) $315-$472
• Chicken farmer (wife and husband), $378-$409
• Chicken farmer (single), $189-$205
• Pig farmer (wife and husband), $315-$409
• Pig farmer (single), $142-$236
• Fish farmer, $189-$252
• Flower and vegetable farmer (wife and husband), $315-$378
• Karaoke customer service, $157-$189

Cycling along the Historic Yunnan-Vietnam Railway

The Yunnan-Vietnam Railway (滇越铁路) celebrated it’s centennial last year. With a new high-speed rail line connecting Kunming with Vietnam already under construction, this historic narrow gauge railway’s days may be numbered. Today, the route can no longer be experienced from aboard the train (passenger service was suspended in 2003 due to the risk of landslides). But it’s still possible to see the occasional freight train rolling along these historic tracks.

Most of its 466 kilometers within Yunnan snake through river valleys and canyons away from contemporary transportation corridors. It’s only possible to scout out the tracks in certain places where parallel roads exist. One of the most rewarding such sections begins at the Vietnamese border in Hekou (河口), following the Nanxi River (南溪河) north for 112 km into Pingbian (屏边) county, ending at Renziqiao (人字桥), a remarkable bridge shaped like the Chinese character for person: 人. 

I explored this route by bicycle last weekend. The route parallels the railway the entire way, offering chances to see the occasional freight train, and to marvel at engineering that brought this railway through such forbidding terrain a century ago. Significant sections of track are perched high up on the valley wall; tunnels and bridges are par for the course.

The route also runs through colorful geographical and cultural terrain. The tropical climate and low altitude suit the Nanxi River Valley to banana, pineapple, and papaya plantations. Most of the valley’s locals belong to the Yao (瑶族) and Miao (苗族) ethnic groups, and many of the women and children still wear their colorful traditional clothing. 

Most are farmers who live alongside the road in wooden huts and raise horses, which they use to carry bananas down from the steep slopes. I passed by numerous work teams washing and weighing bananas, and packing them into trucks bound for markets across China. 

DAY ONE: HEKOU (河口) to BAIHE (白河)

Starting in Hekou, I first crossed over a minor mountain range, then joined the railroad at the Nanxi River. The next 68 km were relatively easy riding. The road and the railroad parallel the river on opposite sides. Minor ups and downs abound, but no major climbs. I had a tasty lunch of boiled beef jerky and sweet bamboo shoots at Yao ethnic restaurant in a wooden house by a waterfall.

About halfway along the day’s ride, the highway and railroad switch sides. The railroad bridge runs diagonally across the river. I was lucky that there happened to be a train crossing at the same moment I was there.

All along the river there are small suspension bridges, some wood, some metal, some concrete. I decided to follow one across the river and see what was on the other side. I rode my bike across the swooping, swaying bridge which was kind of thrilling. On the other side was train station and switching yard called Lahadi (腊哈地). Lots of old railroad buildings, railroad cars and engines, and a railroad turntable. 

  

74 km from Hekou is a town called Baihe (白河). It’s not very big, but it is the biggest town apart from Hekou on the route, and it’s where I spent the night.

Baihe has the air of an old railroad town. As recently as 2010, a station agent still manned the crossing. A sign warns that pedestrians are now on their own to stay out of the way of passing trains. I was lucky to see one chugging through town just after dusk; its piercing horn and slow pace made it hard to miss. 

I talked to some of the townspeople about the town’s history and economy. It’s ironic that whereas 100 years ago, when travelers elsewhere in the province faced weeks of arduous animal pack trains to Kunming, Baihe was one of the most efficient transportation connections in the region. Just hop on any one of the daily trains and be in Kunming in 30 hours!

By 2002, the last year passengers could still board trains in Baihe, that 30 hours no longer held much appeal. I talked to some old timers who remembered riding the train, but didn’t seem to miss it too much.

DAY 2: Baihe (白河) to Renziqiao (人字桥)

10 km north of Baihe the main highway makes a steep ascent up the mountain to Pingbian (屏边) County. At this junction I waited for James, who arrived in Pingbian that morning and rode down the mountain to meet me. Then we continued following the Nanxi River, only just time the road wasn’t paved; it was made of rough cobblestones, making cycling very slow.

Further north, the river enters a narrow canyon and at times the railroad disappears completely from view, clinging to the precipice high above. The river in this stretch is full of boulders, waterfalls, and deep, natural swimming holes. James and I went swimming in these.

We bought some of the cheapest papayas we’ve ever seen from a farmer in one village. Continuing up the valley, the railroad temporarily leaves the Nanxi River valley and makes a U-shaped detour up the Chahe River (岔河) valley in order to gain in elevation before climbing out of the Nanxi River watershed and onto the Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau. The cobblestone road also jogs to the right, running right up the middle of the “U” , producing the interesting phenomenon of railroad tracks running along both sides of the valley. 

From here it’s only another 8 km to the final destination. The Renziqiao bridge is located at the bottom of the curve in the “U”. The bridge is a worthy destination. With its distinctive 人-shaped arch, it is an achievement of design. But it’s the bridge’s surroundings that make it so impressive. It bridges a narrow gap between two vertical limestone cliffs, and is approached on either side by tunnels, resulting in a unique profile, which has become something of a symbol of the railroad. Having first seen it in photographs years ago at the Yunnan Railway Museum in Kunming, finally reaching it in person was breathtaking.

Wanting to get up as close to the bridge as possible, we climbed up to the railroad tracks and walked towards the east tunnel, only to be thwarted by a female railroad police officer. So we simply went back down the valley and up to the tracks again on the western side. This time there were no police guarding the tunnel entrance, so we proceeded inside with flashlights. Right where the tunnel ends and the bridge begins we were discovered by another policeman. Luckily, he was friendly and allowed us to snap a few closeup pictures from the viewing platform.

Back in Renziqiao village, which is also nestled in the curve of the “U”, we had planned on pitching tents and camping for the night, as there are no guesthouses in the village or tourism infrastructure of any kind in the village. We ended up spending the night in a local home at the invitation of a kind farmer.

It was night when the freight train finally chugged up the valley. We scrambled out of bed to watch it make its curve around the “U” and cross the bridge. Its headlight beam was playing all sorts of tricks, spasmodically illuminating this corner of the valley, and then that, as the train made its way along the zigzag bends in the track.

Day 3: Renziqiao to Hekou

The nearest city with buses back to Kunming is Pingbian, 57 km away. But the route to Pingbian entails a backbreaking 1400 meter uphill climb. We decided instead to backtrack along our previous two days’ route, covering the 112 km back to Hekou in one day, which is perfectly doable since the majority of the route is downhill.

As always, pictures are on flickr and facebook.

If 9/11 happened in China: Excerpts from my students' essay responses

I teach Chinese middle school students social studies. Last week, we talked about the 10th anniversary of 9/11. I asked the students to answer the following questions: "How would you feel if 9/11 happened in China?"  and "How do you think China's government would respond if 9/11 happened in China?"

Below are some excerpts of some students' responses. Some selfish, some selfless. Some ignorant, some wise. Some funny. Some unexpected.Overall, I was surprised how many students said that if 9/11 happened in China, it must mean China was doing something wrong in the realm of foreign relations, and that if China wanted to solve the root problem of 9/11 it must do more to forge peaceful ties with other countries.

*Note I edited many of these excerpts for grammar and other mistakes to make them easier for you to read. But the ideas and content of the students' responses I left intact without modification.

How would you feel if 9/11 happened in China?

We would be very surprised because China is a friendly country, which gives money, food, and skills to other countries, and has never harmed any other country.

I would go to the countryside and pick fruit, because it's safe and comfortable, and watch TV.

People who don't like China should confront China face to face to talk about their grievances instead of using terrorists.

The most important thing is not why or how it happened, but how to solve it.

The first time is by accident. The second time is attacking. The third time is the beginning of the war. It would make many Chinese sad, because it would lead to a war. I think we should resolve the problem with means other than war, but if the terrorists persist we must go to war.

If 9/11 happened in China, maybe it means China did something extreme to provoke the terrorists to anger. Maybe it means China was promoting hegemony. I don't think it is right, but it is normal. Because the more powerful you are, the greater success you will get.

In my opinion, the terrorists are very bad guys. They just want to kill people. They don't know anything about the country. And because they are foolish, they behave just like animals and have no mind.

The Chinese government is corrupt. They always exploit the people. They don't know how to make China better, they don't know how to make the people's lives better. If 9/11 happened in China, this is a proper punishment for the government's bad behavior.

I think maybe it's because someone hates the government. So the government must check themselves and correct their mistakes.

I would be very surprised, because I never would have expected the Chinese government  could make other countries so angry at us. I think the Chinese government is one of the best governments in the world. And if this happened, that would mean the Chinese government is bad, and that Chinese people or people in other countries disagree with the Chinese government.

If this happened I would worry that China's relations with other countries aren't very good. Maybe we should do more to further globalization and development, help other countries, be more friendly, and make a more peaceful world.

For example, if the attacks were done by the French, I would boycott French products. I wouldn't go to the French supermarket any more. I wouldn't buy French products anymore. I hope the international policemen would catch the terrorists quickly.

I would feel interested. I would feel relaxed. I would feel happy. I would feel a little sad.

I would feel very sad, because many Chinese would pass away. Also,  China would lose a lot of money.

China has a larger population than America. So if 9/11 happened in China, more people would die.

This would give us warning. We need a peaceful world. We need to make fair laws. And we need to listen to other peoples' ideas.


How do you think China's government would respond if 9/11 happened in China?

UN, NATO, and the KGB would help China's intelligence agency track down and kill the terrorists.

I would volunteer to help the victims of the attacks, especially homeless children. I would help them rebuild their homeland.

China's government would look for the reason, and force the perpetrators to apologize and compensate for their actions.

China would tell the terrorists: "don't do that" and if the terrorists persist, China would be very angry. Maybe China's leaders would talk to the terrorists and ask them to stop their attacks.

Chinese people should trust the government, not have riots, and make the society stable.

First, I would want to help people. This is not because I'm Chinese, but because I'm human.

If this happened, maybe it's because we're moving so fast, so other countries' people feel so envious.

The government would declare "We aren't a weak country! We will find the evil backstage manipulator and make him face the consequences!"

In fact, I think China's government wouldn't do things the right way. As we know, Japan hijacked a Chinese fisherman, but China's government just issued a statement and did nothing. Maybe the Communist part thinks China is a developing country, and if it launched a war, it would poorly influence China's development. As for the Chinese people, they would be sad and angry, and destroy the terrorists country's supermarkets. They would also go on the internet and do human flesh searched. You know, China has many people, and they can protect their country by themselves.

The government needs to tell us what happened and why. But maybe we should just know a little bit about what happened, because the government doesn't want people to think China is a dangerous place.

Two Weeks Along the Burmese-Chinese Border

For my two week summer vacation in mid August 2011, I headed towards the far south-southwestern corner of Yunnan, part of the border region with Burma. My two weeks were divided between one week spent visiting my two friends in their villages in Ximeng Wa Ethnic Autonomous County (西盟佤族自治县), and one week spent bicycling between Ximeng and neighboring Menglian Wa, Dai, and Lahu Ethnic Autonomous County (孟连佤族傣族拉祜族自治县), Lancang Lahu Ethnic Autonomous County (澜沧拉祜族自治县), and Menghai Dai Ethnic Autonomous County (勐海傣族自治县). Since those names are a mouthful, from now on I'll simply refer to them as Ximeng, Menglian, Lancang, and Menghai.

It wasn't my first time visiting Ximeng. I went there in early May to see the Wa Ethnic Wooden Drum Festival. During that brief visit I never ventured outside of Ximeng County Seat, which was where the festivities were held. I only spent a day there but I had a glorious time, witnessing thousands of Wa, Dai, and Lahu folks celebrating the festival in their traditional outfits, singing, dancing, drinking. Also at that time I met two young ladies, Ye Ping and Nana, both of the Wa Ethnicity, and exchanged contact information with them. I'd kept in touch with them over the following months, and so on this trip decided to go and visit them in their villages (both are students and August is summer vacation, when most students from rural areas return home to help their families with the agricultural work).

Ye Ping actually hadn't headed home yet. 21 years old, she just graduated from high school, and is now going to a vocational college in Simao, the prefectural capital of Pu'er (of whose many counties Ximeng is one). When I arrived in Ximeng County Seat, she was working in the Dragon Lake Hotel, the nicest hotel in Ximeng and the only building with an elevator. But she took the day off work and escorted me hiking around the beautiful Dragon Lake. The next day James, a bloke from England and my friend from Kunming, arrived, and together we mounted our bicycles and headed off towards Nana's village. But not before first stocking up on fresh fruit to offer Nana's parents (my bike panniers were already filled with English books for Nana, pens and coloring books for her nephews, and ham and dried beef for her parents).

The road descends from Ximeng County Seat down a 10 km grade to the Kuxing River (库杏河), then follows the Kuxing River for 15 km until it joins with the Nankang River (南康河). Then we followed the Nankang River for about 30 km until we hit a bridge and the road turned to mud. Up until this point, it had been a good sealed road, but now it was foot deep mud. Worse yet, it was uphill from here all the way to Nana's village. Luckily, the mud only lasted about 5 km, and then the sealed road picked up again. Nana later explained that because of excessive runoff and landslides in that 5 km section the government didn't bother to seal the road. I should probably mention that this was rainy season in a tropical environment. It would rain almost every day for the two weeks I was there, but rarely would it rain nonstop. It would come in spurts. Another 10 km uphill, broken with a rest under a shed while we waited for a rainstorm to pass. Finally made it to the pass and there was Nana waiting to escort us the final 4 km down a dirt road to her village, Little Bannong (小班弄村).

I've stayed in many Chinese villages by now and am pretty used to the conditions. In our conversations before my visit, Nana was somewhat self-conscious and worried that I would feel uncomfortable in such primitive surroundings. I knew it wouldn't be so bad. Since she played her village and family's conditions down so much, I was actually impressed when I finally arrived. The family lives in a four room brick house: parents' bedroom, kids' bedroom, TV room, and storeroom. Concrete floors, posters on the walls for decoration, musty smell, but nothing I wasn't used to. Kitchen and dining room were outside in a wooden shack. Toilets were a communal outhouse shared with the neighbors. The neighbors also have a shower house with solar hot water heater, and Nana's family pays them a nominal fee each month for use of the shower.

The village itself had about 50 households and was attractive with wooden and brick houses with tiled roofs. The Wa used to live in thatched roof houses, but the government forced them to tear them down and build new houses during the last decade. It was about seven years ago that the village was connected for the first time to the electric grid. Nana remembers when she was a child they had no TV and no electric lights and no hot water heater. The paved road the we followed most of the way from the County Seat was paved three years ago.

Nana's parents are nongmin (农民), "peasants" or farmers. They've got some rice paddies and corn fields on terraces on the mountain below. It's a good hike down to the fields and back. They also have a stand of rubber trees. As does every household in the village, and in all the villages in this region. When James asked Nana's father what the single biggest change in Ximeng was during his lifetime, he answered without hesitation "rubber".  Rubber, Nana explained, is the economic lifeline here. The rice and corn in the fields, the pigs and chickens, those are all for their own consumption. Rubber is their only source of outside income.

I got an up close and personal look at the origins of rubber during my stay. On our second day in Bannong, Nana and her cousin and friends walked us down the mountain to the river at the bottom of the valley. Along the way, we passed through numerous rubber stands. I'd heard of rubber tapping before, and I'd seen the tapping of maple trees for maple syrup before, so I figured rubber tapping would look something like that. And it did. A diagonal cut on the bark of the rubber tree, and a thin white line of rubber juice bleeding down from the tree, collecting in a cup suspended by a wire. What I hadn't anticipated was that the rubber in its most natural essence is already white in color and possess the rubbery texture and properties of rubber. I know because I stuck my hand into one of the collection cups and pulled out a hockey puck-shaped hunk of coagulated rubber juice. I also learned that rubber in its bare state has a foul stench.

I was able to communicate quite easily with Nana's father. That's unusual. Usually when I visit friends in rural villages, communicating with their parents is very difficult because the parents only speak their ethnic language or regional dialect, and can't speak the standard Mandarin that I've learned.  Nana's father, however, used to be a teacher, so his Chinese is better than the average villager. I really liked Nana's father. But Nana seemed to be somewhat self-conscious about her family and their current conditions. She explained proudly that her father was once one of the wealthiest, most forward-looking men in the village. He worked as an accountant. He was the first person in the village to wear pants (as opposed to the sarong traditionally worn by Wa men). He was the first to eat mantou (steamed bread common in Northern China). But unfortunately he had some psychological problems and lost most of his money and his job when he set out on his wandering, nomadic (流浪) adventure. His nomadic adventure sounded romantic and exciting to me, but I feared prying too deep because it obviously set off a nerve with Nana.

Nana's family troubles were not limited to her father. Her mother left the family at one point, and only later returned. Her grandfather was the richest man in the village. He had two wives: one was his cousin and the other a local beauty. He couldn't decide which wife he liked best, so when he died he left his fortune buried somewhere on the mountain. To this day, no one knows where the fortune is buried.

While Nana and her family can speak Mandarin well, they prefer to speak their local Wa language. I, of course, couldn't understand a word of it. It's as different from Chinese as Spanish is from Japanese. Wa belongs to the Austro-Asiatic Language Family, which includes the uncontacted tribes of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands in the Indian Ocean, the Khmer language of Cambodia, and various tribal languages in Southeast Asia. I liked the sound of the Wa language. It's musical and colorful, especially when the women speak. Their voices often swing into high pitched sounds of laughter and exclamation. Certain sounds in the Wa language reminded me of Spanish (the rolled "r"s), Swedish (a certain "glöp" sound), and even some sounds that sounded like they might have been African languages.

Nana's father explained that rubber trees first came to Ximeng about 15-20 years ago. There was a government sponsored directive to the peasants in the region to plant rubber trees. It takes many years for rubber trees to mature until they are able to produce commercially viable rubber. I didn't find out if the initial cost of planting the trees was borne by the peasants themselves, or if they had assistance from the government. I did learn, however, that the price the peasants receive for the raw rubber is volatile. It was once as high has 15 yuan ($2.30) a kg, but has since declined to 12 yuan ($1.85) a kg.

Nana's parents only have 40 rubber trees. Other families in the village have considerably more. We had dinner the first night at Nana's cousin's house. The cousin's house had two floors, the meal was larger with more dishes, and the family even has a truck (a rare luxury in Bannong Village). We also visited Nana's brother's house. He's 26 years old, married for 8 years with two kids. When he married he was 18 and his wife was 17. He's a farmer and a rubber tapper. He has a tractor.

Nana explains that marrying at 17 is nothing unusual in her village. Most of the girls her age have either been married off already, or have gone off to the cities to dagong (打工), which basically means to work in some low-paying service sector job such as waitressing or massage or karaoke bar prostitute. A few girls, she explains to my horror, have even been sold by their parents to men from other provinces who can't find wives in their own villages. Considering the fate of so many other girls from her background, Nana is pretty lucky to have parents who look after her and support her continuing her education.

Ximeng is not the only place in southern Yunnan dominated by the rubber industry. Xishuangbanna, to the south, has long been in the rubber game, and probably has a head start over Ximeng by a few decades. It also enjoys much better transportation linkages to the outside. Ximeng, in contrast, is one of the most remote and isolated counties in Yunnan. It takes 14 hours to get there on the bus from Kunming.

Rubber plantations, I have gathered, are a scourge of environmentalists. Rubber grows in tropical regions, where rainforests are the natural inhabitants. In order to plant rubber trees, old growth rainforest must be cut down. Probably one of the most classic cases of environmental degradation, one every American child learns in elementary school, and here it was before my eyes. But with a human face put on it. Nana's family and neighbors cut down rainforest to plant environment-destroying rubber trees. But in their eyes, rubber is an economic lifeline, the source of the meager income by which they can afford electricity, a TV, and their daughter's education (Nana's the bright one in the family of three children, the one who will attend college. Her brother, on the other hand, is already married with two kids and is a peasant and rubber tapper himself).

Not all the rainforest has been cut down. Riding my bike through Ximeng, and through the surrounding regions over the course of two weeks, I  saw a lot of rainforest. But it was almost always just there in patches, traces of what it must have been before. One one hill slope you could see very visibly the replacement effects of rubber. On this hill slope, 80% of the forest cover was rubber trees. The remaining 20% was old growth rainforest. It was entirely concentrated on the steepest sections of the slope, where reaching the trees would have been too difficult.

Some of the accompanying environmental changes that follow deforestation are in the realm of biodiversity. Nana's father said when he was a boy tigers and other large animals were common the jungle. But he hasn't seen a tiger since the 1970s. During my time there, the only wild animals I would see were snakes (I did see quite a few).

I tried to imagine would I would have done, what I would have said had I been from an environmental NGO, trying to encourage Nana's family to shift away from dependency on rubber and towards some other, more sustainable form of livelihood, and I came up blank. To tell them point blank "your rubber trees are bad for the environment"  would be so thoughtless, so in contempt of their socioeconomic situation. I remembered a professor in the Geography Department at Penn State whose research focuses on sustainable livelihoods in Ghana. Her solution to this kind of dilemma was always "turn the village into an ecotourism destination". How preposterous. Not that I'm against ecotourism, or tourism in general. I guess you could say I James and I were Bannong Villages first tourists, and if anybody who reads this decides to go there for themselves, I may be spearheading the kind of tourist colonization I studied in my Masters Thesis. But seriously, for every village out there that could viably turn into any sort of tourist destination, there are thousands of villages that may be equally beautiful but never will find their way onto tourist maps. There's nowhere near enough demand for every village to turn itself into a tourist destination.

To return to the thread of the story, our group walked down to the riverside on a very steep trail, and James and I kept slipping. When we got to the river we went swimming. I don't get to go swimming very often in China. Most rivers and lakes are badly polluted. There is no industry anywhere near this river. The river drained into Myanmar. I went walking along the narrow embankment that separated the rice paddies from the river for a while and almost stepped on a huge snake slithering right across the path. At that point I hightailed it back to the rest of the group. It started to rain and we treated into a small wooden hut which is used by the villagers during the day when they're laboring in the fields. Two of the girls caught a chicken and killed it by hand. Then they singed its feathers off in the fire, plucked them clean, and proceeded to turn that freshly killed chicken into a delicious meal of spicy mixed chicken and chicken rice porridge, a Wa speciality, called xifan (稀饭).

On the next day James, Nana, and I went back down the mountain to the bridge and then set off on a hike to the Burmese border. Based on my maps, I knew it wasn't very far away. There was a river running along the border, so I didn't know how feasible James' wish to cross into Burma would be, but I figured it was at least worth checking out. It rained all day that day, and the road was muddy for the whole 10 km to the border, following the Nanka River (南卡河). On the other side of the river the rainforest had not been converted to rubber trees. Whisps of fog draped across the jungle in graceful patterns. Just as we were nearing the border, a border police SUV showed up. The police inside wanted to know where we were going. I was sure this was the end of our hike and we would be forced to turn back. Instead, James convinced them to let us keep going all the way up to the river that forms the border. This way we were able to see Burma and get some photos. The Burmese side didn't have many signs of life, nor did it look much different than the Chinese side. I was frankly pretty surprised to find border police in such a remote place. But then we realized the reason: the Chinese are building a dam and hydroelectric station right at the border. Surely the police presence has to do with that project. The police then escorted us back to the bridge on that bumpy road. They didn't let us go scott free, though. They called their superior, a female commander in plain clothes who drove all the way from the County Seat in an SUV to meet us and ask us some questions. It was a bit like an interrogation, except that they were fairly polite. They took our pictures, took pictures of our passports, and once they were satisfied that we hadn't snuck into China from Burma, they let us go.

The next day James headed back to Kunming and I stayed behind in Nana's village, tutoring her in English. Nana's a good student, and her English reading and listening ability is surprisingly good considering the background and place she's from and the fact that I'm the first foreigner she's ever spoken to. Her spoken English not surprisingly wasn't very good, so we spent some time on that. She'll be taking the college entrance exam this year and hopes to go to Kunming to attend university, and English is an essential component of the college entrance exam. I think it's unfair that English is expected of every test taker across the country, no matter if they are from urban or rural areas. Nana's school-assigned textbooks, too, seemed so ill-adapted to the particular socioeconomic milieu in which she lived. Her teachers, however, do supplement the standard curriculum with some material specifically tailored to the ethnic minorities in Ximeng, such as the history and culture and music and dance of the Wa people. Her school also has several volunteer teachers from Shanghai, and receives money from the Chinese educational charity fund The Hope Project.

After four days in Bannong, it was time for me to hit the road. Thus began six days in a row of cycling. SInce I got my new bike a few months ago, I'd done some serious cycling, but never more than three days in a row. I held up pretty good after 6 days, but after some difficult sections on dirt roads, I did make the decision to stick to sealed roads. I knew to expect rainy conditions and muddy roads since I was heading into one of the least developed corners of rural China during the tropical rainy season. I packed a poncho to keep me dry, a waterproof bag to keep my panniers dry, and a spare mountain bike tire in case the going got really rough. I switched my hybrid tire out for the mountain tire back in Nana's village expecting rough conditions on my ride out of town. The mountain bike tire was too thick for the mudguard, which I had to remove. Then I got some good news from Nana's classmate: the road I planned to take, contrary to expectation, was a sealed road! Well, that is, for the first 20 km, which are all downhill. Then the road crosses a river at the Ximeng-Menglian county line, the classmate's good news falters, and the road reverts to dirt. It was then about 20 km of nonstop uphill on steep dirt road. It was raining. The road was pretty muddy in places, but I trudged along. I couldn't really appreciate any of the scenery because everything was so grey and foggy. It was not a heavily traveled road. If you look at the map, it's definitely the shorted road between where Nana lives and my destination - Menglian County Seat. But given the poor quality of the road, most people would opt for the much longer way around on the sealed road. Finally I crested the summit and started downhill. That's when I regretted removing the mudguard. I discovered what happens when you ride downhill through mud with no mudguard. The tires spewed mud all over my body (poncho not much good at this point, as the tires even spewed it up inside the poncho), and all over my waterproof panniers, which proved to be not so waterproof after all. Fortunately, it was just a couple km of that before I rolled into the town of Fuyan (富岩). This foreigner, drenched in mud, coming from a hardly ever traveled dirt from from Ximeng, was probably a surprising sight to the people in Fuyan town square. I headed straight for the first restaurant, and to the nearest spigot to start washing off the mud.

As I left Fuyan the sun came out and the road was sealed again, and it was a mostly downhill ride 40 km to Menglian through beautiful scenery. Having left the Wa people and rubber plantations behind on the other side of the pass, I was now in tea country, and the dominant minority was no longer Wa but Dai. Golden spires of temples and monasteries dotted the route, and I rolled into Menglian in time for dinner.

I have very little to say about Menglian County Seat. A boring town if there ever was one. I don't take this attitude about all small cities in China. I've been to numerous small cities that I quite like. Some small cities are located on a lake, or along a river, or on a mountain. They have nice restaurants and interesting shops and ethnic minorities and well designed public spaces full of activity. Menglian, by contrast, has none of those things. Half the streets in town were in the process of being torn up and replaced. I had a terribly hard time finding a place to eat dinner. Okay, the complaining stops there. One thing Menglian did have was a car wash. I took my bike there and had all the mud thoroughly cleaned off.

Next day I rode to a place called Meng'a (勐啊) in a second attempt to see how close I could get to the Burmese border. This day's ride was among the easier rides of the trip. One uphill climb over a pass, and then all downhill down a river valley towards Meng'a. If you look at Yunnan on a map, you can clearly make out Meng'a as the the point of a triangular wedge that juts into Burma. On the other side of the border is Wakang, the capital of the semi-independent Wa State in Burma. I really wanted to figure out just how China operates a port of entry with a breakaway state, not to mention one alleged by the DEA as the largest narcotics trafficking organization in Southeast Asia. China has official relations with both the central government of Myanmar, and with the breakaway Wa State on its border. Furthermore, the Wa people on the Burmese side and the Wa people on the Chinese side have familial links that predate the drawing of the official border sometime in the mid-20th century. In not-so-recent history, both sides of the current border were loosely organized tribal fiefdoms of the Wa Kingdom. Although technically lying in British Burma and Qing Dynasty China, neither the British nor the Chinese really had any control over the Wa and their territory, lyings as it was far from the main Chinese-Burmese trade routes to the south and north, infested with malaria, and with a local population, some of whom still practiced headhunting. 

The road to Meng'a was entirely sealed, and passed through a green valley of rice paddies and forested mountains. Dai and Wa villages dotted the valley. The Wa village homes were largely made of wood, the Dai ones more modern materials, but with cerulean tiled roofs quite distinctive. Golden-spired Buddhist temples also dotted the valley. Highlights of the ride included a delicious meal of cold mixed rice noodles from a roadside stand that included no fewer than 20 different ingredients, and a roadside wild mushroom market, in which a dozen villagers had well over 100 types of mushrooms spread out on the ground. Mushrooms of every shape, size, and color, a remarkable sight.

Meng'a and the border crossing were a disappointment. I didn't expect they would let me cross, but I hoped to at least get a view across the bridge of the other side, maybe snap a few pictures. But the Chinese border building blocked the view of the other side. I followed the border river a couple kilometers and came to the old border crossing, where the old bridge had collapsed. Finally, I was able to see across the river to the other side. Not a whole lot to see, however. Road back to Menglian for a second night.

Next morning I threw my bike on top of a bus and traveled four hours southeast to Menghai County Seat in Xishuangbanna Prefecture. At 160 km, it was a little too long to do by bike, and I wanted to make the most of my time. I had to lift the bike onto the roof of the bus, and secure it myself. I was a little worried it might fly off, but it didn't. I barely spent any time in Menghai after I arrived at 12:30, instead setting straight off on a 80 km ride to Daluo (打洛), yet another border town next to Burma.

It would be a good day's ride, through beautiful countryside. All on good, sealed roads, but over undulating terrain, several climbs and several descents. First it was a relatively easy ride up over the first pass. Just as I got to the pass, it started raining, and I ducked into a little pavilion to put on my poncho and waterproof my bags. Riding down the other side of the mountain from the pass the rain poured down. In the valley below I ducked into a shop with a large overhang. I was surprised to see another white guy on a bike doing the same thing as me. His name was Collin, a middle-aged chap from Wales, and he was equally surprised to see me. He would be the only other foreign cyclist I would run into on this trip, and I the only one he would run into. Since we were respectively heading in the directions from which the other had come, we exchanged information about the roads ahead. Collin has lived in Yunnan for twenty years. A fun chance encounter. The rain stopped, the sun came out, and I crossed a broad valley of chartreuse colored rice paddies, then started up over another pass. Got a flat tire, and completed my first ever flat tire repair on the road successfully and efficiently (luckily I'd practiced at home before the trip).

The route to Daluo passes through stunning scenery of rice paddies, banana plantations, and emerald green mountains in all directions. Lots of small villages along the way, all with their distinctive pitched tiled roofs. While the majority of the route looks like it should be entirely downhill on the map, actually there are lots of little hidden hills. You definitely feel like you (and your legs) are in touch with every inch of the terrain when you're riding a bike. Finally rolled into Daluo around dinnertime. This was my third time approaching the Burmese border in one week. At the previous two locations, the border followed a river. Here, the border was over land. I figured this increased my chances of actually crossing the border. A couple kilometers away from the official port of entry is an old, abandoned port of entry. Surrounding the old crossing was a whole city, mostly abandoned. It's said Daluo used to be a very seedy place, full of drugs and prostitutes and gambling. Now old Daluo is like a ghost town, and new Daluo 5 km away is pretty tame.

I saw Chinese (or Burmese?) people freely crossing back and forth through the gate, and no police or border guards were anywhere in sight. But some Chinese guys hanging out next to the border told me I couldn't cross on my own, it was dangerous and illegal. Instead, one volunteered, he'd take me into Burma for a fee. I was somewhat tempted, but decided against it. Who knows who this guy was? Maybe he would have turned me into the Chinese police. Maybe he would have robbed me on the Burmese side, where I would be unable to get help from the Chinese police. Maybe he would turn me into the Burmese police, who would discover I didn't have a Burmese visa. I'm not sure how likely any of this was, but I decided it was better not to risk it. Using my GPS and Google Maps, I sidetracked to a village that was located just a half kilometer away from the border. From the village I found a dirt road heading right to the border. I found the border, sure enough. No police, no guards, but lots of signs warning (in Chinese) not to cross, as well as not to traffic drugs, and not to evade customs duties. It was here that I finally got to cross into Burma and get a picture. I didn't cross in very far, maybe 100 meters, before I headed back. I didn't want to do anything too stupid, but I did get a little thrill from actually being on Burmese territory, illegally, without a visa.

I later learned that James had previously been to Daluo, and had crossed into Burma much more brazenly than me. He had spent a whole day exploring the Burmese side. It turns out there's a whole city there. The Chinese guy at the border told me the Burmese side was wilderness, that the nearest city was 20 km away. I felt a little regretful that I hadn't been more adventurous, but still content in my accomplishment. Like my father, merely crossing a border is thrilling enough. It doesn't really matter what's on the other side.

That night in Daluo there was a huge thunderstorm and the power went out. I think it's honestly the first time I can remember the power going out since I've been in China. Honestly, the power went out more in Marin County California than it does in China.

Next morning I caught a bus for the 35 km uphill to the junction with the road to Bulangshan (布朗山). I could have ridden it, but I'd ridden it the day before and thought it better to save my time and energy for the new section of road. From the Bulangshan Junction to Bulangshan was just 48 km long, but it took all day. It was a beautiful ride, probably the best of a week's worth of good riding. All sealed, except for 7 km of cobblestone road. No dirt road. And phenomenal scenery the whole way. After an initial short, steep uphill to the pass, it was downhill for about 20 km, passing through a heavily forested, thinly populated valley dotted with the occasional village and tea plantations. Bulangshan is home to the Bulang ethnic group (布朗族). It is also home to one of the finest varieties of Pu'er tea. I stopped in some villages and talked to the villagers who were busy drying tea leaves on mats spread out on the road. Since it rains so often, they have to take advantage of every minute of sunshine for drying. They said they can earn up to 80 yuan a kg for high quality leaves. I asked if I could buy some direct  and they said no. They don't do any of the processing there in the village. The leaves get sent to a processing plant in Menghai city where they're pressed into bricks and shipped to Kunming and around the world.

About halfway along, the downhill ended and the uphill began once again. I stopped at a shack selling cold drinks and the owner invited me in for some lunch - delicious bamboo shoots and pork. His friend was from Zhaotong, in the complete opposite corner of Yunnan. He's in the banana business. He said he can make a lot more money growing bananas in Xishuangbanna than he could growing corn in Zhaotong.

The next 15 or so km of uphill road passed through an unbroken stretch of primeval rainforest. I'd seen rainforest in patches all along on this trip, but this was the largest unbroken stretch of pure rainforest, with no signs of civilization, no villages, no agriculture, no lumber harvesting. This is where the sealed road turned into a cobblestone road, not the most pleasant for riding, but I suppose it's to keep the road from being eroded. It rained as I rode through the rainforest, and the butterflies were out in full force. If you try to find this this section of road on Google Earth, its hidden beneath the rainforest canopy.

Finally the road crests at the summit, and all of a sudden the environment changes completely. You're on top of a ridge looking out over a deep, wide valley towards Burma. The mountains in front of you are not rainforest, but transformed by human agriculture. You're back in tea country again. From there it's a short ride along the mountain ridge to the town of Bulangshan. I was hoping the town itself would be a little more interesting than it actually was, but the surrounding mountains made up for it. The clouds, too, were putting on a show that evening. Cumulus clouds with strong personalities, eerie mists settling in the the surrounding hills, rays of sunshine, all combined to make a dramatic sky. Then some of the blackest thunderclouds I've ever seen rolled in and it rained all night.

The police officer who registered me warned me that I shouldn't stay out too late because "the local minorities like to get riled up and make trouble". Nice stereotype, Mr. Han Police Officer. But he was right. That night was the owner of my guesthouse's birthday and she and her friends got drunk and invited me to partake in the festivities. I've been to birthdays of young people in China, and they always have a blast smearing cake frosting on everyone's face. I didn't expect that a birthday party for adults in the little village of Bulangshan would feature the same craziness.

It was still raining when I got up at seven the next morning to begin the next day's riding. Originally I'd planned to make a loop back to Menghai, but Collin had warned me that the road I thought I'd take from Bulangshan to Menghai was a dirt road and very difficult. Collin showed me a road east from Bulangshan to Menglong (勐龙) that wasn't on my map. It's a sealed road, newly built. I took that instead. It rained almost the whole way. Luckily, this route was mostly downhill. Beautiful at the time, but if I describe it here it might sound a little repetitive: villages, valleys, passes, rainforest, banana trees. The road followed a river valley for the first 40 km, then entered a broad, flat valley with lots of villages and towns. There's only so many ways you can describe bicycle touring and not repeat yourself.

Rolled into Menglong around noon. Originally thought I'd ride the remaining 70 km to Jinghong, as they were flat and easy. But it was a big highway with lots of trucks and buses, not my favorite riding conditions. And I wanted to make it to Jinghong quickly so I could catch a bus to Lancang. So once again I threw my bike on top of a bus, and was in Jinghong in an hour. In Jinghong, I went to three bus stations before I found one with a bus to Lancang. Got my ticket for 6:30 pm, and then had the afternoon to hang out in Jinghong. I'd been to Jinghong before, and went straight to the Mekong Cafe, where I had my first hamburger and coffee in ten days, and told some of my adventures to the German owner who's been there for ten years.

Arrived in Lancang at 10:30 pm. I'd been there before two: four months ago I spent a day there visiting one of Wang Ping's cousins, Xiao Yan, I met when I was best man at Wang Ping's wedding. But Xiao Yan was busy studying for the civil service exam, so I didn't bother her this time. Just spent the night, and the next morning I was out again on my seventh and final day of cycling. It would be the longest day, too. 97 kilometers (60 miles) and 2,777 meters (9,111 feet) of elevation gain. Followed a river, climbed a mountain, descended into a valley, passed some villages, climbed another mountain, descended the mountain, and then I was back where I started twelve days before, in Ximeng County Seat.

I stored my bike in a safe place, then met Ye Ping, and we traveled in a minibus to the old County Seat on top of a mountain. There we met Nana and together the three of us piled into a very crowded minivan for the two hour ride on bumpy dirt roads to Ye Ping's village Banshuai (班帅). A relaxing last couple days spent in Ximeng enjoying village life with my two Ximeng friends. Particular highlights: dancing to the "disco" DVDs and that infectious Hungarian pop song "Dragostei Din Tae" in this little Wa Village. Using the soot from the fire to paint on the face of the loser in the card game "fight the landlord".

The ride back to the Old County Seat from Banshuai was one to remember. At 6 am, we packed into a truck along with about 50 other people. A girl from the village had gotten knocked up in the Old County Seat and that day was having a shotgun wedding, and the entire village of Banshuai was invited, but there was only one truck in the village so everyone piled on together. It was the most uncomfortable ride in my life. I was in the cab, but had nowhere to place any of my limbs, and experienced the worst case of numb ever. Twice the truck got stuck in the mud and all 50 people had to get out and help push. It was hell, but it makes a good story!

You can view my photos on facebook or flickr 

You can download KML files and view my cycling routes in excellent detail on Google Earth from wikiloc.com

Dali to Shaxi Bike Ride

I've been on serious, 200 km+, two- or three-day bike rides every weekend for the last five weekends. 

This latest one to Shaxi was, I reckon, the greatest so far. The ride through Northern Vietnam two weeks ago was awesome too, but I think the overall riding experience this time was much better.

The three day trip began with a bus ride to Dali. It then followed a loop, returning to Dali three days later. I divide the route into four sections, each with distinctive geographies. They were, in order:

• plain (Erhai Lake)

• mountain (Cangshan Mountains)

• valley (Heihui River and Yangbi River Valleys)

• canyon (Xi'er River Canyon)

Not only do these four sections correspond to distinct physical geographical regions, they also each reflect varying levels of socioeconomic development, most readily apparent to me as I rode through on my bicycle in the quality of the transportation infrastructure.

Google Maps Terrain view of the complete loop (Copyright Google Maps)

THE PLAIN: DALI TO NIUJIE

The trip began with a bus ride to Dali. To ride all the way from Kunming to Dali would have taken four days, and I didn't have that much time. The bus takes four hours, all of it on a high-speed expressway. I've done this now a few times, putting my bike on a bus. The long distance buses are huge, and usually have ample space underneath to fit a bike, provided I take the front wheel off. But the drivers often complain that it's a hassle and charge an extra fee. That's understandable. I've paid 30 yuan for the privilege in the past. This driver wanted 50. I talked him down to 40 (about $6). I didn't really have any other choice.

Dali is one of the main destinations for hippies and backpackers (as well as Chinese tourists) in Yunnan. I first stayed there over five years ago and I was there twice last year. This time I just spent one night there. Dinner and breakfast in Cafe 88, a bakery and restaurant run by a German. 

Next morning it was up early and on the road. The road was provincial highway 221,which runs from Dali (大理) to Lijiang (丽江). It is a wide, smooth ribbon along the shore of Erhai Lake (洱海). To the left, paralleling the lake and highway, not more than a few kilometers away are the Cangshan Mountains, a towering emerald green massive of 4000-meter plus peaks. But the road was good and flat; I made very good time on this stretch. Passing me were hundreds of buses carrying tourists from Kunming and Dali to Lijiang, Tiger Leaping Gorge, and Shangri-La. This is one of the busiest tourist corridors in China, and here I was sharing the same two lane highway with them. I was one of them too, five years ago, speeding along Erhai lake in a bus half asleep at 7 in the morning. Needless to say, you can see a lot more, get a much deeper appreciation for the details of the terrain you're riding through. I won't pretend that I get a much deeper cultural experience, however. Most of them time I just pass through villages. I pass through a lot of them. It's hard to go more than a few kilometers in China without coming across some sort of village. Only when I stop for water or food or the night, I can get a closer up view of the communities I'm passing through. 

Vertical perspective of my route along the Erhai Lake Plain with the Cangshan Mountains towering behind
(copyright Google Earth)

Covered a lot of distance that morning. Made it to the northern tip of the lake, where I left the Lijiang-bound provincial highway and joined the Shangri-La and Tibet-bound national highway 214. I actually accidentally went off track for about twenty minutes. I was riding along what was obviously a brand new (in fact, yet unfinished) stretch of wide highway, three lanes in every direction. My GPS told me I was off track, but I thought that was just because Google hadn't recorded this new highway alignment yet. Turns out it was a cut-off back to 221, so I had to use the GPS to find a county road across the valley back to 214.

214 followed the river that feeds into Erhai Lake. I was still in flat valley land, a solid green blanket of bright green rice paddies. Hugging the river was a linear strand of great dark green trees. Further beyond mountains loomed on all sides. The first elevation climb was a gradual ascent through a narrow canyon. Not much more than 100 meters. On the other side, emerged into another broad valley.

Rice paddies and trees along the Er River north of Erhai

I was now in Eryuan County (洱源县). Er Yuan means "source of Erhai Lake". I was still in the same watershed. But that wouldn't last for long. I didn't even turn off the main highway on the side road to the Eryuan county seat. I ploughed ahead, making it to Niujie (牛街, which means "Cow Street") in time for a big lunch.

THE MOUNTAIN: NIUJIE TO SHAXI

After lunch, I left 214. I left the tour buses, the flatness, the smoothness. Hell, I lost the pavement. I had just 32 kilometers to go before my destination, Shaxi (沙溪). But lying in between me and Shaxi were those towering Cangshan Mountains. Actually, they weren't quite as high here as they were near Dali. Which is precisely why I rode the 70 km here in the first place. This is one of the few places where a road crosses over them. One other road crosses the mountains near Eryuan county. Scouting routes on Google Earth beforehand, I chose this route over the other because the pass was slightly lower at 2800 m compared to 3000 m. As it turns out, the other road although reaching a slightly higher summit, probably would have been a lot faster. The road I chose was a rough mountain road, dirt in the best of times, and rocks in the worst. The other road was a paved road. Both roads appeared on both my print map, and on Google Maps. But neither cartographer gave any indication that one was paved and the other was dirt. On the maps, they appeared the same, a thin brown line on the map, a thin white one on Google, which belongs to the lowest classification of roads in their hierarchy of road types (local, or other, roads).  The geographer in me got to thinking, this sounds like a job for me. Go to the map publisher (which is in Beijing) and offer to be their Yunnan scout, checking all the roads in their maps for accuracy. Make sure that paved roads and dirt roads are marked as such. I think that kind of information would be pretty useful to drivers, who are the  main consumers of these high quality road maps. 

Dirt road over the mountain from Niujie to Shaxi

Anyway, I'm not complaining that the road was a dirt road. It was a great ride up the mountain and down the other side. It was some of the most uninhabited 32 km of road I have ever been on in China. From the bottom of the mountain to the summit I didn't pass a single village or settlement or even house or structure of any kind. On the other side of the mountain, there were a handful of farms. I passed very little traffic, too. Just a few motorcycles (with people who were clearly pretty surprised to see a foreigner riding a bike in such a place), one car, and one truck. The red dirt road rose quickly in a series of switchbacks. I was a little apprehensive since my phone was already telling me the battery was low and I felt that the GPS would be a good thing to have as I attempted this off-the-beaten-path route. I kicked myself that I'd turned on the app on my android  "my tracks" for the four hours that morning. In the past, my phone's battery had lasted 8 hours so I figured it would be enough to get me all the way to Shaxi. But by leaving on "my tracks" I put a much greater strain on the battery. My tracks constantly uses GPS to record your location, and make a path, and profile it with all sorts of statistics on your speed, elevation gain, etc. But here I was in the place where the GPS might actually come in handy, to record the dramatic climb over the mountain and steer me in the right direction in the event of any misleading side roads or forks in the road. Another drawback of the dead battery was that I wasn't able to take many pictures on the mountain.

Route over the mountain from Niujie to Shaxi (copyright Google Earth)

Well, as luck would have it, the GPS didn't prove to be necessary. Other than a couple forks in the road near the very bottom of the mountain, where there were still villagers around to ask if I was going the right way, the mountain road was very easy to follow. Although it's a rough road, rocky and potholed in many sections, it's still a road that's been engineered to some degree. It's wide enough for vehicles. There are a few road cuts and a few places where water is channeled under the road. I wondered what the economic utility of this road was. Every road has to have some economic utility, or perhaps in some special cases social or political utility, or else it wouldn't be built. With almost every transportation route used in modern China, the route itself has probably been in use for millennia. But at what point was it changed, presumably by some government agency, from a footpath used by villagers and traders on horseback, to the road (albeit a pretty inferior one) that it is today? Frankly, it would have been a very uncomfortable road in any motor vehicle, but for a mountain bike it's perfect. My mountain bike enthusiast friends in Kunming prefer much rougher, steeper terrain on single track trails, but for me this is the ideal kind of mountain biking. It was a deep ascent up to the 2800 m (9,186 feet) pass, though, and I was glad when I finally made it to the summit. All along the way, I certainly appreciated the dramatic scenery. First, leaving the Niujie Valley, seeing the valley and its villages strung out on the high way like beads on a string. Then seeing the distant peaks of the Cangshan Mountains grow closer and closer as the road zigzagged its way up the first flank of the mountain, then ducking behind the first ridge and rounding the rim of a small canyon before heading up the next flank. A great blue reservoir emerged below in a valley hidden from view from Niujie. As I climbed in altitude the vegetation change was evident in the pines and conifers that blanked the mountain beginning about halfway up. 

Rounding the summit the steep uphill finally changed to downhill and off I went. That's fun mountain biking too. Lots of obstacles and potholes and rocks and things to watch out for. My mountain biking friends say they just barrel down without brakes. I used my brakes quite a bit. It took about forty five minutes to get down the mountain. About two thirds of the way down I started riding through mountain side villages. In no time, I reached Shaxi. 

THE VALLEY: SHAXI TO YANGBI

Shaxi old town is a place I'd wanted to visit since I first heard about it last fall at a hostel in Lijiang. When another backpacker mentioned it as a place he was considering visiting, I was surprised. I thought I knew all the backpacker spot and spots visited by foreign tourists in Yunnan. How had I never heard of this Shaxi? Turns out, it's been in Lonely Planet for a few years now. It's already turning into something of a backpacker destination, and stopover for French and German tourists who come with expensive private guides. It's definitely nowhere on the scale of the tourism in Dali, Lijiang, or Shangri-La. The town itself is tiny. There is one main street, modern and nondescript. A small "old town" consists of one street and a courtyard. What a fine old town it is, though. Genuinely old buildings (the one at which I ate was 150 years old, the waitress said). Shaxi was once a bustling trading center on the old tea horse trail from Yunnan to Tibet. In recent years, the local government has conducted a very good restoration project cleaning up some of the old buildings, without tearing them down and rebuilding fake "old buildings" like so many other places in China do. There are about five guesthouses, including an IYHA hostel. There seemed to be around 20 other foreigners when I was there, and a handful of Chinese photographers. Definitely a tourist destination, but a tiny one for China. I was fascinated. This is exactly what I was looking at in my masters thesis, but in India. 

Shaxi Square

Shaxi is classified as a township in the hierarchy of administrative division in China. Townships are below counties and above villages. All the other backpacker destinations Yunnan are in county-level cities: Dali, Lijiang, Shangri-La, the cities of Xishuangbanna, even the Stone Forest, or in National Parks (Tiger Leaping Gorge, etc). I hadn't heard of any western backpacker-geared guesthouses in places as small as Shaxi. I've stayed in small townships such as this before, but never before one with backpackers and restaurants with coffee and muesli such as here. Usually Chinese townships are dull places with one main street of ugly buildings selling most farm equipment, with a couple cheap eateries and a couple simple lodging houses. 

But Shaxi is certainly deserving of its reputation, if ever small. It feels like walking into the China of a very different era. And the valley it's set in is the quintessence of Chinese rural beauty, the rural beauty backpackers hope to find when they come to China. My friend and former roommate Matt Burton is the Chinese program director for the American kids' education program "Where There Be Dragons". He took some kids there a few years ago. He predicts one Shaxi will take off, and one day may look something like the tourist excess of Lijiang. I think he's right.

Most of the tourists to Shaxi probably stay there several days. It's out of the way, and not really on the way to anywhere else. The guesthouses all have bikes for rent. Many probably go for day rides in the countryside around Shaxi. Well, I went for a "day ride" too, but it was a bit more substantial. In total, I rode 108 kilometers on day three. I followed a single river the whole way. It starts off being called the Heihui River (黑惠江), and after it joins with the Misha River (弥沙河) it changes it name to the Yangbi River (漾濞江), named after the county of Yangbi, whose county seat was my ultimate destination 108 km away.

Immediately after leaving Shaxi

In my preliminary survey of the route on Google Earth I assumed it would be a relatively easy day's ride. The whole route was in a valley, following a river flowing downstream. I would drop 500 meters (1,650 feet) in the course of the day. However, I probably did more overall climbing that day than I did the day before when I climbed the Cangshan Mountains in single long uphill slog. That's because the road down the valley didn't just follow the river. It ran all up and down the hillsides above the river, in and out of valleys and rides in a terrain with little flat land. So it wasn't an easy ride. But it was great riding. In contrast to the previous afternoon, this road was paved. Pavement makes everything faster - uphill and downhill. It also passed through continuously inhabited land. It wasn't heavily inhabited, with almost no signs of industry until I hit the outskirts of Yangbi. This was pure agricultural land, and I passed through mostly fields of corn, rice, tobacco, and vegetables. Some places there was still forest, and I saw locals tapping pine trees for pine sap. Also unlike the previous day's mountain road, there was a steady stream of traffic. Not exactly heavy. Not a lot of trucks. Some local county buses. Some motorcycles. And lots of local farmers walking, riding bikes, or walking their cows, pigs, and goats. 

Heihui River Valley south of Shaxi

Confluence of the Misha and Heihui Rivers

This is my favorite kind of cycling. Mountain biking is fun in doses, but I wouldn't have wanted to ride that mountain road all day long. This day's valley ride took me 9 hours, but it was fun and beautiful the whole way. Changing terrain, ups and downs and curves, but on a good quality road, with not a lot of obstacles, villages, places to buy water, lots of views of the river and farmland below. This time I left My Tracks off and the battery lasted the whole 9 hours, so I was able to take plenty of pictures along the way, which you can see on flickr and facebook. 

Tapping pine sap

Yi Ethnic lady with a very large hat

THE CANYON: YANGBI TO DALI

But even beautiful scenery and good road quality can get old after 9 hours, and when I finally rolled into Yangbi I was glad to be there. As I got closer to Yangbi, the valley gradually was becoming more developed, more ugly modern buildings and fewer traditional houses. About 15 km north of Yangbi I passed through a town called Maidi (脉地镇). It seemed to be a factory-based town, the first sign of industry I'd seen in the valley. The road approaching the town was lined with electric street lights, which seemed very out of place after the relative underdevelopedness of the valley up until this point. I imagined this is a typical Chinese "face project" in which local officials or maybe the boss of the factory pays for a bunch of unnecessary street lights to make the town appear more developed and modern than it really is. 

Street Light "Face Project" on the approach to Maidi Town

Yangbi is a place I'd never heard of before I planned this bike ride. Even the characters in Yangbi (漾濞) are kind of strange-looking. Most place names in Yunnan have fairly simple characters. Not Yangbi. I've been to many county-level cities in my travels in Yunnan and had some very nice experiences. I wouldn't place Yangbi very high, though. In fact, as I thought about this over dinner in Yangbi, I made a list of all the county level cities I've been to in Yunnan, and then rated them on a scale of 1-5 according to four categories: the town itself (i.e. architecture, urban design), scenery (can you see mountains from the city? is there a river? parks?), surroundings (is it close to interesting things?), and the "cultural milieu" (the vibe, shops, street life, friendly people). I calculated that I've been to 37 such county level cities. Some of them were quite nice, places I could actually envision myself living in. Yangbi wasn't one. After the beauty of the Yangbi River Valley, Yangbi city seemed more like an ugly stain on the landscape. The river, clear in the upper stretches of the valley, was muddied and brown by this point. I spent a night, had some mediocre food, and was off the next day to complete the loop back to Dali.

Yangbi City

Day four's ride was the least interesting of the trip. But still unique in its own way. From Yangbi it's a steep drop down to the Xi'er (西洱) River Canyon. The road here is wider than the road above Yangbi. I was surprised to see a brand new multilane high speed expressway under construction parallel to the existing road. It hardly seemed necessary. Another "face project"? Would it just go as far as Yangbi City? I hope so. 

It only took 40 minutes to hit the Xi'er River Canyon and the junction of National Highway 320, which runs all the way from Nanchang (南昌) in Eastern China, to Ruili (瑞丽), on the border with Myanmar. At 1400 meters, this was the lowest elevation on this trip so far. From here it would be a 500 meter climb through 20 km of canyon back to Dali. Paralleling National Highway 320 is National Expressway G56, which runs all the way from Hangzhou (杭州) (near Shanghai) to Ruili. Riding parallel to an expressway may not sound like the most pleasant cycling experience, and I wouldn't have wanted to do it for too long, but for 20 km it's not bad. The topography of the region means that any road would naturally have to pass through this canyon. And riding the old road parallel to the expressway actually is kind of cool, because you can admire the engineering of that larger road - which is largely built on pylons, an elevated ribbon of highway gliding up the canyon. 

As I neared Dali, the road was lined with fish restaurants. Finally, after cresting the hill, Dali and Erhai Lake appear in view. Back to the bus station and back to Kunming I went. All in all, an excellent ride, particular the mountain crossing to Shaxi, and the valley to Yangbi.