While many parts of China are facing the challenges of modernisation, others in the remote interior provide a glimpse of another time
The bone-shaker of a bus spluttered to a stop and a holler from the driver woke the slumbering crew. "Ce`suo, ce`suo," he barked. "Ce`suo, ce`suo." His intermittent cry signalled toilet stops along the hair-raising mountain road between the city of Kunming and the remote town of Dali, close to the Tibetan mountains.
Bleary-eyed passengers stepped off the bus into almost pitch blackness, some pulling out cigarettes, some stretching their legs and others heading for the horror that is a Chinese loo. Granted, these were of the indoor type, but you need an iron constitution and a sinisterly dark sense of humour to cross these dimly-lit thresholds. South-west China is not for those of a sensitive disposition, but in order to reach it, such things must simply be endured. For your efforts, you will be richly rewarded.
The 412-kilometre journey from the rundown and overcrowded bus station in Kunming to Dali takes a minimum of 10 hours and the driving is erratic. I took a sleeper bus, although this is a misnomer along a route which takes you along mountain precipices and is punctuated by the sound of car horns. Then again, the alternative is sitting bolt upright in a rickety bus with window panes held on with string and bony seats.
Provisions for the trip should be bought at the bus station before setting off, as breakdowns are common and the journey can take far longer than expected. I travelled through the night, but a daylight trip offers a great opportunity to see the rugged mountains and lush fields of Yunnan province.
Dali has long been a favourite with Lonely Planet clutching back-packers eager to get off the beaten-track. Its popularity is rising and the narrow streets are home to European-style cafes and even shops with email and Internet facilities.
However, Dali still offers a glimpse of China at its most rustic and of its own distinctive people, the Bai. Situated on the western edge of Erhai Lake, Dali's backdrop is the Cangshan mountain range and the opportunities for walking and climbing are numerous. The pace is decidedly slow and its criss-crossing streets and street stalls can keep you amused for hours.
Hostels litter the town and I stayed at the government-run Number 5 Guest-house. This is fine, if you don't mind roughing it and for £3 a night it is adequate. Then again, the sight of a rat in the latrine or under the reception desk might prove too much for some and there are hotels in which to seek refuge. Accommodation is central and Dali can be enjoyed on foot.
Local people, who are rarely exposed to Westerners, gazed fixedly at us as we strolled past the intensively farmed fields, where workers, mainly women, were engaged in back-breaking tasks like carrying of buckets of water on yokes. We were heading towards the mist-covered Zhonghe Si mountain, which we lazily ascended in a downpour by cable car.
At the Buddhist temple at its summit, we got out of the rain and were served with tea. Typically of such buildings which survived the ravages of Chairman Mao's Cultural Revolution, it was beautifully painted and tended by elderly local women who welcomed foreign visitors.
The lake is a 40-minute walk from the town or a short bike ride and we caught a boat over to Wase, an agricultural village which makes Dali look modern by comparison. Cattle, chickens and pigs shared the narrow streets with pedestrians, while stalls cluttered the roadsides. Live fish were sold from buckets and metal bowls, while roughly cut hunks of red meat were strewn across trestle tables in a scene characteristic of Chinese markets.
Almost all the women sitting behind the stalls wore traditional Bai dress, consisting of blue waistcoats and trousers and either head scarves or white hats, resembling pit helmets. The men, meanwhile, stick to the drab blue or grey "Mao" jackets and trousers which form a common uniform in other parts of China. Back in Dali, we visited its famous three pagodas. They are among the oldest standing structures in south-western China, having been erected in the 9th century, and the tallest of the three has 16 tiers that reach a height of 70 metres. With the mountains rising up behind them, the pagodas make a striking impression on the area.
One of the real jewels of Yunnan, however, is the town of Lijiang (The City Above The Clouds), another gruelling six hours by bus from Dali. Bordering Tibet, Lijiang sits in a valley enveloped by spectacular mountain scenery and is the home of the Naxi people, who are descended from Tibetan nomads who lived until recently in a matriarchal society.
An earthquake struck Lijiang two years ago, destroying a large part of the town. Miraculously, however, the carefully preserved old town survived relatively unscathed, and it is this warren of streams and old houses painted red and gold which remains a source of fascination for outside visitors, including the Chinese. Although it looks as if were custom-built for tourists, Lijiang is a working market town, humming with local activity. Naxi women in their traditional dress, different from the Bai, seem to do all the work. They lug around heavy baskets of vegetables on their backs and wash clothes in the streams. In the vast market near the old town, it is the women who sell the vegetables, meat, fish, noodles and spices, and women who are shopping.
In contrast, the men sit in the sun chatting, playing cards or displaying their caged song-birds. This is a daily past-time and the cages are set out in rows by their proud owners. Less pleasant was a passing cart full of bloodied meat, including a horse's head and foot, and a small cage stuffed with puppies for sale, destined for the hotpot.
One of the most stunning sights in Lijiang is the Black Dragon Pool Park which overlooks the town and provides the kind of picture postcard image for which China is justly famous. Outside the town itself, meanwhile, there are endless places to hike around, including the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, which towers over the town. You can also visit the village of Baisha, the home of the Chinese herbalist Dr Ho, of whom the actor John Cleese said: "Nice bloke, crap tea."
But for a real blast of Naxi culture, the Naxi Orchestra is a must. The musical group has a front line-up consisting of five men aged between about 82 and 88 who spent most of the show drifting in and out of sleep, and an English-speaking leader, Xuan Ke, who is an expert on the Daoist temple music they keep alive (during the Cultural Revolution they buried their instruments to keep them safe). Amazingly, these octogenarians toured England three years ago, although how many albums they sold is not known.
Be warned - Lijiang is about to experience change. An ugly, four-star hotel has just been completed in the new part of town and a railway line is planned. An airport has recently been opened about one hour by bus from Lijiang, from which you can fly to Kunming, which has routes to all major Chinese cities and Hong Kong. With such developments, the relative peace of one of China's most rural areas could soon be shattered.
