Survival!

The following blog was written about three weeks ago but I've been unable to post it until now... sorry folks! Hope its worth the wait.

The last time I wrote I left you in Dali, which now seems like a life time ago. In reality little more than a fortnight has passed but both Abi and I seem to have lost all concept of time recently, a common symptom of spending, what feels like, eternity stuck on a bus. There we bid a fond farewell to Ali and made our way to Kunming, where we gave Izzy (Abi's friend from uni) a warm welcome. After my rant about development we have endeavoured to immerse ourselves in as much Chinese culture as possible and therefore were forced to par-take in the traditional Chinese fashion of getting a chair lift up yet another mountain as opposed to using our legs. We also attempted to eat huo guo (hot pot) which is where you get given your own stove with a large pot of boiling broth and dip vegetables (or meat) of your choice into it. We didn't get very far with this though as south west China is famous for its spicy food and within a few mouthfuls we had anaesthetised our tongues and killed several taste buds in the process.

We continue to get ourselves into mischief, and committed the cardinal sin of sitting on the grass in a public square whilst in Kunming. This was swiftly put a stop to though as within a few minutes three police men, riding in what can only be described as a golf buggy, armed with a mega phone, approached us and gave us a stern talking to. It seems the sole purpose of these officers is to patrol the area, a quarter of the size of Trafalgar Square, in search of trouble makers such as ourselves, unsurprisingly all three officers where a little tubby to say the least. Ironically whilst journeying around this area (which is suspiciously wealthy) we have come across acres of cannabis plants which seem to have gone conveniently un-noticed. Sell the grass and nobody bats an eye lid... sit on it and you might as well of sat Mao's grave... that's if he wasn't preserved in a glass cabinet.

So from Kunming we took a night bus to Lijiang, this is a rather convenient way to travel as you are provided with a small bunk and a duvet, although the last time it was washed doesn't bare thinking about. This time we were spared the pleasure of listening to the symphony of snorers, but instead experienced the delights of someone having a night terror. This involved them wailing very loudly and unexpectedly in the middle of the night causing all drowsiness to be shaken from us and the disappointing realisation set in once more that a good nights sleep on public transport just isn't an option. Still this experience seems of little significance compared to the following night bus we caught a few days later which left me projectile vomiting from a small window for the first 3 hours of the journey. Note to self: heavy drinking + no sleep + rolling hills = Negative impact on body... must not repeat! This was particularly awkward the following day when people had to collect their bags from the side of the bus that was sprayed with the contents of my stomach.

Anyway on a more pleasant note, Lijiang itself was a pretty little town with cobbled streets and a maze of small canals running through it, naturally it was incredibly touristy, but the sun shone brightly the entire time we were there, giving the place a relaxed timeless feel. This made us quite susceptible to over indulging, which is not really acceptable behaviour when you're a budget back packer, but there's no denying how good it feels to be a giddy consumer every now and again, sucked in by the allure of anything aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Inevitably we came away with heavier bellies and bags. But before this begins to sound like an extended shopping excursion our actual motive for visiting this neck of the woods was Tiger Leaping Gorge. The gorge is one of the deepest in the world and given our new found love for burning calves and sweaty backs, it was a must on our to do list. The walk took two days to complete and was nothing short of breath taking. We were quite spoilt with flora and forna along the way, ranging from over sized butterflies, exotic flowers, and humming birds, to mountain goats, and crickets. In fact our travels have been met with an abundance of wild life recently. From Lijiang we headed back to Dali for one night where we experienced cormorant fishing. This is where a fisherman takes you out in a small wooden rowing boat, on the edge of which a family of birds perch mysteriously content, until you reach open water where they proceed to dive into the water and vanish from sight. A few moments later they resurface, settle themselves on the fisherman's arm and regurgitate several whole fish into a bucket. At first we marvelled at how obedient these creatures were and pondered why they wouldn't just consume their catch themselves. Rather disappointingly it soon became apparent that the cormorants were not in fact mans new best friend but actually had a small piece of string around their necks preventing them from swallowing. I can't make up my mind as to whether or not this counts as animal cruelty as despite the fact this must be an incredibly frustrating predicament for the birds they seemed in no way distressed, and actually appeared quite content.

From Dali Abi and I swiftly made our way to Jinghong, leaving Izzy to explore the area in more depth. Jinghong is set in the south of China, bordering Burma and Laos and is therefore heavily influenced by its neighbours culture and dialect. The tropical climate, abundance of palm trees, pineapples and minority groups gives the place a wholly different feel to the north of China. We embraced this laid back South East Asian vibe by treating ourselves to a visit to a blind massage school, set up to provide a sustainable income for blind/partially sighted people in the area. This was a painful but enjoyable experience, although my masseuse made a suspicious amount of eye contact for someone who isn't meant to be able to see. We also took another bike ride through yet more crop fields, which left me feeling like I'd died and gone to vegetable heaven. Had we had access to a kitchen I would have no doubt got myself into more trouble through pillaging from the poor. We also came across a school where a very over enthusiastic English teacher insisted on showing us around, ironically and perhaps a little worryingly, we struggled to communicate with him because his English was so bad.

But now we must move on from the quaint and picturesque, to a more rugged and treacherous tale! The main attraction of Jinghong is the Jungle that sits just a few hours bus ride south of the city. Please note before reading the following couple of paragraphs: besides the large hole in my foot, we are both alive and well.

Lets be honest, though always based on truth, some of the tales I tell throughout these blogs are inevitably embellished slightly for your entertainment. This story however, needs no aid of imagination what so ever, and will be told purely based on facts. So where to begin?...Abi and I fancied the idea of a jungle trek in which we could pretend to be avid explorers of a dangerous land, but with the aid of a local guide to navigate, put plasters on our grazed knees, and generally do all the hard work. The only problem being that guides don't come cheap, and after much searching we couldn't find any other travellers willing to share the expense. We did however, meet Serge from Tel Aviv. Given the two year compulsory military service Israelis are required to under take, Serge had the demeanour of someone who was used to having to survive, an essential jungle trekking quality... or so we thought. He assured us that he had trekked many times and there really was no need for a guide. The following morning we arranged to meet him at the reasonable hour of nine, spend a day trekking, then sleep the night in a small village where we had been told if you knock on villagers doors they will happily put you up for the night. Given this plan we felt there was no need to weigh ourselves down with sleeping bags or any other un-necessary creature comforts. No maps that we know of exist of this area, but we had read that you can simply wonder into the jungle, find a small path and eventually it is sure to lead you to a village, be it the right one or not (what the author failed to mention is that there are actually hundreds of paths throughout the jungle, some made by man, others made by beasts, and that distinguishing between the two is actually quite an art). So when Serge arrived twenty minutes late, wearing flip flops and a sleeveless top and proceeded to tell us that he had gone to bed at 5am and was therefore a little worse for ware, although a tad concerned we were not deterred from setting off. It later transpired that the only food Serge had brought with him was a packet of dried super noodles because he thought there would be shops along the way, had we have known this our decision to persevere may have been abandoned.

Still we spent the day feeling quite exhilarated by our exotic surroundings and although we were faced wih dead ends on more than one occasion, where the path would simply disappear, we thought nothing of it. It was only when six o clock came around and we had taken our umpteenth wrong turn that fear set in. We decided to accept defeat and started to make our way swiftly back to the original village we headed out from. Just as we were debating in jest, who would be spooning who, if the ludicrous situation were to occur, in which we'd have to spend the night in the jungle, we quite literally bumped into two guys in full camo gear carrying rifles and machete's. Communication with these gents was strained to say the least as we spoke not one word of the local dialect, nor were they able to humour our feeble attempts at mandarin. Still through a lot of rather flamboyant hand gestures on our behalves, and a great deal of repetition of the name of the local village pronounced in various ways we managed to gather that they would take us to the second village we had originally been aiming for. This glimmer of hope was short lived, as after an hour of being frog marched back down the path we'd just been down, our guides quite unexpectedly, just as the remaining evening light faded away, left us. The point on the path in which we were abandoned was wet under foot and hosted grass a good meter above our heads on either side. We continued down the 'path' for around half an hour before giving up all hope of finding salvation and found a small clearing under a tree where we sat, quite gob smacked at our predicament, we were actually going to have to spend the night in the jungle. Thankfully Abi, being the resourceful woman that she is, had bought a lighter that morning and with the help of a few worthless bank notes we had in our pockets we were able to start a fire. It was a long and cold night, with a few stories rather desperately exchanged between ourselves and our Israeli friend in order to pass the time, a ban on all tales involving wild beasts was established but this didn't deter our minds from conjuring up all sorts of terrible fates we might be met with. We put in place a food rationing system of one biscuit every hour, and begrudgingly shared them with Surge. Still we survived our night in the wilderness, and managed to make our way back to the original village the following day, a little fatigued but with little more than hunger to complain about. A few days later we discovered another trekker had come across several deadly snakes and spiders while in the area. It is at times like these that I end up asking myself why on earth Abi and I were ever allowed to leave the country together, and wonder whether it would be safer for us both, and potentially the rest of the world, if we had our passports removed and for some form of tracking device to be inserted underneath our skin.