Okay, a weak attempt at a tongue-twister/play-on-words for the title, but I couldn't think of anything else... :(

Kunming (18-21 April)
After my “get me out of here” detour to Vientiane, where I secured my Chinese visa, I made my way first to Kunming in Yunnan Province. While travelling through SE Asia allows you to be lazy when it comes to knowing some of the local language, since most people in the tourism trade (if not the population generally) speak English by necessity, the same can't be said of China; sure, a huge number of Chinese speak English, but they are dwarfed by the even huger (is that a word?!) population that doesn't. It isn't so trivial to walk down the street and find someone able to help you with directions, etc. Of course, this isn't a complaint, and wasn't exactly unexpected; but it does come as a bit of a shock if you've spent the preceding 4 months in SE Asia!

Anyway, with the help of an English artist I managed to find a reluctant taxi driver to take me to my hostel (the one next door to the Camellia Hotel), and I found myself back in a dorm room for the first time since that cat- and tiger balm-filled night in Langkawi... I was exhausted from the journey and immediately crashed – or tried to, but the mattress was as thin as a slice of bread, the small dorm seemed to have a lot of traffic, and I soon got hungry anyway. Walking the streets of Kunming for the first time, another strong contrast to SE Asia hits you: where are all the kids? The one-child policy explains this, of course. Not only do you notice the difference in numbers, but the treatment of kids in China is a lot closer to what we have in the west; they are doted upon and spoilt by parents and grandparents. This contrasts to the countries I'd previously visited in Asia, where the kids were a lot more independent and usually expected to help out with the family business, sometimes doing quite laborious work, or sometimes – sadly, but understandably given the poverty – begging and hawking all day and into the night.

I met a fair few Francophones travelling in Kunming – who were thankfully a lot friendlier than the ones in Hue! We tried to find interesting “local” places to eat, with mixed success; I think what we found was closer to a food mall – not many tourists, but more “fast food” than “authentic local cuisine”. Oh well. Kunming is a good place to wander, and a lot prettier than I was expecting for my first Chinese city. I took a trip to the Mandarin Bookshop by the university to pick up a language guide and a Trans-Mongolian guide for my future travels, and walked back to my hostel via the Green Lake Park, which is a good place to relax by the water, people-watch, and listen to the musical performances by the more elderly citizen scattered all around the park – some of which, to be honest, were a little hard on the ears! I did find the “togetherness” of the people – all coming together to listen, clap, sing, dance, play instruments – quite endearing, though; it's something I've never witnessed before coming here, but occurred in almost every public park in China. I guess we've lost this element of “community”, or maybe we never had it? Whatever, it does seem like a less lonely society to grow old in compared to the west.

On our last night, we hit the pubs and clubs near the university, which I found to be pretty lively compared to my nights in Hanoi – although maybe that's just the luck of whether you find the right places? I played the worst game of subbuteo in my life while partnered with a gorgeous blonde German girl, who left the table in disgust after our loss and then ignored me for the rest of the night – a just punishment for being bad at an obscure game, I reckon... :( I decided not to try my luck at the pool table! The hostel curfew was a generous 3am, if I remember correctly, but some of our drinking companions weren't so lucky and we ended up with a few extra bodies crashing on the floor to the annoyance of our dorm-mates and the manageress. Just as well I was leaving on the bus to Dali the following afternoon.

Dali (21-23 April)
I'd recommend getting up-to-date information before you make the trip to Dali. There are actually two Dalis – a modern residential town, and the old town which is the tourist/backpacker destination. Some buses may go straight to Old Dali, but many drop you off in the new city from which you have to get a connecting bus. Make sure you know where to go, because my guidebook had me waiting at a bus-stop for a bus that no longer exists, wondering why people were giving me funny looks – even funnier than the ones they normally give foreigners! Thankfully an American student gave me some unprompted help, and gave me some directions which were unfortunately too much for my brain to digest. But after a short wander, and putting my limited Mandarin skills to use, I eventually found and boarded the right minibus to Old Dali. Yay for me!

Coming from Kunming, Dali seems like a period piece movie set. Fresh (on appearances, at least) water streaming down beautiful square drains at the side of pedestrian-only stone streets, traditional squat buildings without a high-rise to be seen, and indigenous people in traditional dress hawking their wares. Of course, there's still a ridiculous number of people, since this is a favourite with domestic as well as international tourists, and the “wares” that many of the indigenous women are touting is, sadly, ganja. But it is kind of quaint, in a touristy way.

I found it nice for a bit of a look, but quickly got a bit bored of it – partly since I couldn't find any travellers to hang with, which was maybe because the local scene was a bit too “hippy” for me to fit in with – bald doesn't go down well in a city of dreadlocks! :( I bumped into a Quebecois couple, who I first met diving in Nha Trang, and who recommended cycling around the lake (which I think takes a couple of days to complete), but I can't imagine it would be too enjoyable solo. After what turned out to be a bit of a pointless walking loop to the Three Pagodas, then east towards Caicun before thinking (wrongly) that I was lost and returning to Old Dali instead, I decided to head to Lijiang the following day without having seen the Zhong He temple and the supposedly beautiful views from the surrounding mountains. A bit stupid in hindsight, but just another item on the list of “things I travelled thousands of miles to get near but didn't make the effort to travel the last few miles to actually see them”... I don't think I'm alone in this kind of stupidity, though, and you don't always have the energy or inclination to see everything when your travelling from place to place as I have been. In any case, the main reason for travelling this way through China (rather than, say, heading further east through Sanjiang and Guilin, etc.) wasn't to see Dali, but to walk along Tiger Leaping Gorge. Lijiang was the next stop towards than goal...