Set on Sichuan

Over the years I have had many experiences travelling in a multitude of countries and conditions, the following being the most horrible yet. The first leg, a 10 hour bus up to Panzahua was incident free, I knew we were getting close to this industrial town when a brown haze seemed to engulf the countryside. Our only hold up were some road works coupled with impatient dump truck drivers, something I hardly noticed while checking out my first ever nuclear plant encounter. A lovely couple on the bus helped me find a transport to the train station and a gentleman I caught the share taxi with very kindly insisted on paying my fare, he did not speak a word of English either.

Boarding the train at 11pm for the 13 hour journey, I was in high spirits to catch up on a couple of movies and grab at least a few hours sleep on my hard seat, which is actually a slightly cushioned seat in the lowest class carriage, the best ticket available at booking. Once my carriage was located, I showed a family my ticket to find my seat and in basic English they delivered a terrible blow, I had incorrectly been booked a standing ticket even though seating was clearly requested. Standing in an oversold train in China is not somewhere you want to be for any kind of distance. This carriage had a sign saying it was licenced for 110 people although my head count placed this number closer to 250. There was literally no space left anywhere, the bathroom area had six people crammed in to it, three people had to move to open the toilet door and every spare corner in the carriages and between were jam packed with people or large cargo bags. To make matters worse my upset stomach had turned into intense cramps and my pale sweaty face meant the contents would probably not stay down for long, although I was determined not to hurl my guts with so many eyes on the sole foreigner. One nice man helped me find a small plastic bin which buckled under my weight when I sat in the middle of the isle, having to stand every couple of minutes for people to walk past. Some people attempted to lie under seats, not an option for me as the ground was a disgusting mess of children going to the toilet, food scraps, lugies and unidentifiable gunk. After arriving in Chengdu without a wink of sleep on a journey that felt like forever, I swore never to catch a train in China again!!

I was now in the Sichuan province, my second of 22 provinces in China after initially visiting Yunnan. Checking in to the Flip Flop hostel gave me time for a quick arovo nap before the Friday night dumpling party. Basically an excuse to drink beer and make Chinese dumplings which the staff cook up after. Here I got talking to Amy and Chen during the Friday night dumpling party at our hostel, they had met a few days earlier in Zhongjiejae as Chen was taking 4 month road trip around China. They were off to the Panda sanctuary in the morning followed by a visit to Mt Emishan which had previously been on the cards after Dequin, though I bailed after hearing of the relentless steps involved to reach the summit. The offer seemed like a decent way to travel and the option to defer from my rough itinerary to head up to Xian on a a train I jumped on board. I did mean missing out on the cliff walking experience on Mt Hua, a one foot wide plank attached to the rock face with a sheer 2,400m drop below.

The following morning we headed out to the Chengdu Panda Breeding Centre, arriving for the opening at 8am in an attempt to beat the hordes of Chinese tourists(who usually start flocking at about 10am) and to make the feeding times which happen in the first two hours. The pandas were big and cute as expected, I was however a little disappointed to find that during the hottest time of the year (36c on the day we went), they were all inside and could only be viewed behind glass windows. We still got to see them eating, relieving their bowls and generally lazing about. I even got close up with a Red Panda, who is actually quite small and looks nothing like the traditional Panda. On the way back Cheng decided he was going to buy a new camera and having no idea what to look, for he wanted my advice. Just as I expected he ignored all advice to go for one of the smaller yet quality compact cameras and opted for the wank factor biggest cannon DSLR with zoom lens, one that will likely never switch from auto mode.. its an Asian thing.

Our hostel organises plenty of tours and sightseeing around Chengdu, that evening was the Sichuan face changing opera show. Although opera did not sound like my kinda scene, I was assured it was not the traditional opera I was used to so I purchased a ticket to see what all the hype was about. The performance consisted of various acts including fire breathing, shadow puppets, musicians, dances and for the finale, a face changing show. A bit of research shows this ancient art can be performed in a number of ways to mystify the audience who are kept guessing as to how these actors change the entire face makeup in an instant, it was actually rather impressive.

So far in China I have encountered some amazingly kind people who will go out of their way to help a stranded and confused traveller find their way. This is a stark contrast to other extremely rude and inconsiderate locals who will push in front of you, fell compelled to speak at extreme volumes in public and on their phones or just stare like your some strange exhibit. We have been given directions which make no sense, the food is drowned in oil (maybe this is just Sichan and Yunnan), yes seems to be a common reply even if they can't understand a word we are saying and spitting or throwing rubbish / food scraps anywhere is common practice. Apart from a few minor downsides it is a very beautiful country and an experience I thin everybody should get to enjoy at least once in their life.

Reunited with my bag

Heading back to Lijang and a fresh set of clothes was supposed to be a straight forward bus trip according to the staff at my hostel, all I had to do was show up at the bus stop just up the road by 8am. Arriving 20 minutes early I found out the only bus for the day in fact left at 7:30am and I would need to try make a 3 part journey through Dequin, then Shangrila and on to Lijang. 14 hours later and with a very lucky purchase of a ticket from a lady who bailed on a sold out bus from Shangrila leaving straight away (including a seat next to a rude bloke who pushed in front of me at the ticket counter, with a flatulence problem) I made it to Lijang. Unfortunately the hostel holding my bag was full along with all the others we phoned, they were kind enough to set me up a mattress on the floor for the night which was far more inviting than the park across the road.

Planning to head up to Panzahua by bus in the morning, then a train on to Chengdu overnight, the staff at this hostel told me I would have no problems going to the bus station in the morning to buy my ticket. Terrible advice again as the only bus I could book was in the afternoon, so after a very frustrating 9 hours work including walking to the train station twice and the bus station FOUR times, I finally had  tickets booked for the following day. With a few hours left to chill out I visited the old city, again just another tourist magnet with hundreds of Chinese flanking me from evey angle. The food vendors must have loved me as I took the opportunity to sample every steamed and fried delights I passed wandered through the back streets. At one stand a shady looking kid who's age would have been single digits, came up with a fag in his mouth trying to flog me a used iphone, no prize for guessing where the phone would have come from.

Yubang village

After a quick goodbye to Mauro who was frantically searching for his camera (a potentially devastating loss as he was packing many of the best photos from the gorge) I jumped on a mini van headed for Dequin. Being full of Asians with big cameras (all on auto mode of course) we stopped at any hint of a picture opportunity so they could snap endless photos of the same scene from a slightly different angles, this was until the driver bored of this game and settled for their whinging if we happened to miss another potential photo shoot. The drive through the mountains to the small trekking town of Felasi was beautiful as we navigated the seemingly dangerous mountain pass above 4,000m. I didn't bother taking any pics as the guy next to me with the big camera said he would email some of his best shots, yet to happen.

Felasi is a stopoff for trekkers who are either about to begin or finishing up an adventure, it is also rumoured to provide a great view snow mountains with golden peaks at sunrise if the conditions are right. I washed my one pair of socks (which was now going to have to last at least 8 nights) and spent the next hour trying to dry them using the communal blow dryer, sorry girls. Our morning view was a little cloudy although the hostel staff said we were lucky to get a view at all this this time of year considering it was rainy season. At 7am I bundled in to a mini van with 3 Chinese girls, an American bloke, a German bloke and 2 czech girls as we made the 45 minute journey out to Xidang Hot Springs where the trek would begin. We all intended to set out together although the Chinese girls were quickly left behind to crawl at their own pace.

The days 6 hour hike was through a beautiful Chinese pine forest with the most challenging section a 1.5hr climb of 1,800m. Along the way we passed numerous pits stops selling boxed noodles for a carb dose, minus any nutritional value. Some of us were smart enough to bring our own noodles after hearing the food can be quite sparse and expensive, the locals were clued on to this and wanted to charge more than double the price of the noodles for a small amount of boiled water, they never miss an opportunity to drain your wallet in this country. The extortion master did give us an opportunity to try yak butter tea, which on its own was rather bland but a great combination when we dipped bread from the large wheel donated from some local trekkers.

Arriving mid afternoon we sat down for a beer with the easily excitable monkey chained up outside the youth hostel in Upper Yubang and enjoyed the view of Lower Yubang village being located 1km down the mountain, with snow capped peaks and lush forest surrounding us. After a bit of persuasion I took a non refrigerated beer which turned out alright as the high altitude temperature kept the drinks cold enough. It also turned out the food prices were quite reasonable for the location and we did not need to carry backpacks full of noodles (mine quickly dispensed in the bin), I cant say the same for water that was double the price of beer, they even tried telling me its because of carrying weight when the beer comes in glass bottles!

Our hostel was rather basic but the rooms were cheap and I shared with Miles who came over on a program as part of his environmental studies in the US, this was his last stop before heading home. With two sights on the cards, a glacier lake and a sacred Tibetan waterfall, we planned to get up early and trek out to the lake which would take up most of the next day. The start was delayed somewhat by very unorganised hostel staff taking forever to bring our breakfasts. For lunch we purchased bags of cooked rice (unfortunately still sitting out from the night before), doused with soy and chili flakes for a little zest. A french couple whom we had met the day before joined us and we set off quickly veering on the wrong path through a dense but picaresque section of forest that later connected up with the main trail. Along the way plentiful raspberries and mushrooms were collected amongst the moss cloaked canopy floor.

Approaching the glacier lake we crossed a river that had its banks lined with hundreds of spiritual stone piles, symbolic of how important this area is to the local Tibetan religious community. The final hour provided views of a large snow peaked mountain, its blue glaciers glistening through gaps in the clouds. Although the lakes murky green colour was a bit of a disappointment, the numerous waterfalls running straight from the frozen ice peaks above provided a spectacular sight. Our crazy German mate even decided to take a quick dip much to the amusement of the Chinese who couldn't believe their eyes.

I spotted an accessible snow section on the other side of the lake and was determined to lay amongst the flakes after my early departure from the Everest trek. Thankful for the outstanding performance of my Goretex shoes crossing the waterfall runoff, I scurried up the rocky mountainside where my efforts were rewarded with basketball size icy snow balls to hurl down below, trying to forget the avalanche warning sign back on the other side of the lake. My little adventure was rewarded with a steaming hot bowl of yak milk, the taste probably closer to cream than conventional cows milk.

So there was no warm showers and with my lack of clothing options I was starting to stink a little, something which is a natural part of trekking and I hoped my companions would be willing to tolerate. Over an afternoon beer Miles decided he wanted to climb the mountain towering over lower Yubang. On the map it looked not much further than Lower Yubang where we had migrated for the night, although the 2,800m climb up to the 6,000m peak without any equipment was going to be a tough day. I was keen to join him if my stomach held up, which as per most hikes this trip was starting to turn (maybe the yak milk?). We enjoyed a sleepless night thanks to two roosters in the hallway, a cow who loved the sound of his bell and hideous music emanating from a room nearby. Setting out at 5am we stumbled through the dark to reach the sacred waterfall by sunrise and witness the Tibetian prayer rituals. At a closer inspection the mountain looked almost impossible to climb so I wished miles luck as he set off, my decision not to join him later confirmed appropriate when a local explained that its forbidden to climb due to a god (or spirit) who lives at the top.

I reach the waterfall early with the Czech girls before any of the Tibetans had arrived as they first visited a prayer cave and picked special branches to be burnt in the ceremony. We were rewarded with an absolutely beautiful sight of being surrounded by snow capped mountains while we stood amongst the prayer flags as great waterfalls crept down the rock face with a double rainbow beaming across their stride. It was one of those magical mornings that makes you really appreciate how lucky we are to enjoy such things in life.

Back at Lower Yubang we laid out on the grass for lunch, the mesmerising mountain back drop a perfect opportunity to relax before heading back this time to Nilong town, a less strenuous and more scenic route to arrange transportation to Filasi. The last section of the trek through steep cliffs felt like we were navigating the grand canyon, we even stopped for a delicious fresh cactus lunch.  Organising the mini van did end up with some heated words between one of the Czech girls who spoke basic  Chinese and the van driver who openly admitted that he was increasing the price because we were foreigners, again never missing an opportunity.

Shangrila

Heading north to Shangrila was an unexpected journey as the original plan had been to continue on to Emishan mountain or Chengdu, basing myself for some nearby trekking. Our mini bus took around 4 hours to reach the old city in Shangrila which although was another tourist trap,  it's cobble stone streets lined with beautiful Tibetan style buildings made for a very inviting scene. We wasted  a couple of hours knocking on numerous hostels doors who were all at capacity, it wasn't until just after sunset that we settled for a dismal lodging with its dark and eerie halls, quickly reserving a room at the hostel next door for the following night.

The centre of the old town was alive with a common sight in China, a big crowd of all ages from many walks of life, happily dancing around to music which looks almost like a large choreographed performance. This nightly ritual is a form of social exercise and can be seen throughout the whole country around sunset, anybody is welcomed to join in. Whilst enjoying the view we sampled BBQ skewers from the street vendors and delicious freshly brewed yak yogurt, served in a small cup and sprinkled with sugar. I probably enjoyed a few too many yak delights before the beers started flowing, suffering the wrath of a curdling stomach. Some hours later we gave up wandering the streets looking for excitement and ended up in some form of discotech, filled with Chinese youth dancing and playing unfamiliar drinking games. Being a westerner in Chinese drinking holes has its advantages as its common practice for people to invite you to their table, offering up free flowing beer all night long.

After a quick hostel change in the morning, we explored the streets lined with vendors selling trekking gear, animal skins, local handicrafts, swords and a multitude of tourist orientated gift ware. My first breakfast was purchased off a lady peddling her food cart around, as she spoke no English I still haven't a clue what the sticky little balls I ate were, though she would have gained some repeat business had I been able to locate her again as they were tasty in an unusual sort of way. We later visited a store which sadly sold a variety of clothing items and rugs made from the furs of animals, judging by the amount of similar stores we saw in this town alone, its no wonder there are few wildlife encounters trekking in China.

To kill some time in the arvo we walked out to a large Tibetan monastery on the outskirts of town. The monastery itself looked to be a very overpriced attraction with swarms of Chinese waiting to get in (also no sneaky entrance in sight), so we decided to give it a miss and explore other smaller religious building near by. The afternoon was not wasted thanks to the singing magician who let us take photos riding his mountain yak, a decent compromise after missing the opportunity to ride Water Buffalo in Myanmar . Our ride back to the hostel included the driver (who had been chatting on his mobile for the journey), pull the bus over to examine our map for at least 5 minutes to make sure we found the right destination, certainly not a sight you would see on a packed bus at home.

Back in the old town we ventured up to the Tibetan prayer wheel at Guishan Monastery, a giant golden structure perched on a hill over looking the town. With the combined might and muscle of at least 20 people required to complete one rotation, it is said to build some serious good karma in Buddhist faith.The days hard work was rewarded with a yak cheese spag bog, probably the most western tasting and oil-less food I had in a while, it was fantastic.

That night over a few local rice wines, purchased inside a container that doubles as a tobacco bong, I got chatting with a middle aged Chinese man who had quit his job and was enjoying his new found freedom trekking about SE Asia. He spoke of a beautiful destination called Yubang Village another 4 hours north in the Dequin province, the same area a guy on the bus from Laos had been telling me about when we crossed the border. Seriously underpacked for this extended overnighter, I decided to head north first thing in the morning to trek out to the small mountain side village.

Tiger Leaping Gorge

There was no disagreement, we all planned to sneak in to the gorge to avoid depositing further into the Chinese government coffers, which ended up being the first of three heated confrontations during that first hour of the trek. Our 45 minute journey to the gorge wound through a scenic mountain pass and we hopped off just before the entrance gate to avoid to ticket office. Trying to casually stroll in behind one of the tourist buses failed miserably so we found a path that led along side a mountain behind the entrance area. Being spotted as we ran hunched commando style  along a wall did not dampen our spirits, we snuck through a few gates and across a stream only to find some angry Chinese officials waving their walky talkies about while pointing back in the direction of a ticket office, I don't think they liked our excuse that we wanted to climb a different mountain.

Not far up the road a blue sign indicated we were to veer off to the high route, away from the buses full of lazy Chinese who take the low road which provides the opportunity to take pictures of themselves at a seemingly adventurous destination, minus any of the hard work. A little further up the trail we were taking pictures outside a food stop when I accidentally bent one of the small branches on a plant. The 'owner' who was standing around with us said nothing until we went to leave and bent another branch to show us what was done before while demanding 100RMB, an outrageous price even if the plant had been broken, which it wasn't. We apologised to the lady but she started getting rather angry picking up large stones as a threat, which had us in hysterics until we decided to make a run for it (up the wrong path of course) as the first few came flying at our heads. Realising we had to cross back past the psychotic geriatric, we armed ourselves with rocks and sticks, none of which deterred this little old lady, much to the amusement of a few Chinese men standing around watching. She managed to swipe two of us on the pass (drawing blood!) then blocked my escape where I pulled the classic wallet reach, spin and run (down yet another wrong path) with rocks whizzing past our heads. This time we had to cross a corn field to get back on track and to her credit she was already waiting on the other side with a fresh arsenal that followed us until her stamina finally gave out. The crazy woman might have been able to get a small compensation out of me, but her outrageously amusing antics gave us little option.

One of the bends in the next section provided a great outlook over the valley which the boys were busy taking photos until another little old lady came over with a sign saying that we had to pay her money. Unaware of this likely unofficial revenue raising tactic, we attempted to move on but the lady blocked our path trying to grab our cameras, her shouts could still be heard as we continued further along the canyon, she will have to try her luck on other unsuspecting tourists. Not long after we arrived at the '28 bends' section which is a steep twisting climb, rumoured to be the hardest part of the trail. Huffing and puffing our way to the top, a group of Chinese must have noticed our struggle and kindly shared their Snickers bars, wishing us luck. The view along the high trail is contained within a staggering cliff face opposite, within  the snow covered peaks of Jade Dragon snow mountain and Haba snow mountain, passing through quiet villages, shady forest and rocky precipices.

Tiger Leaping Gorge is a large canyon on the Jinsha River, located 60km north of Lijang in China's Yunnan province, most people will complete the gorge in two days. The favoured rest point being the Half Way House which is a picturesque hostel that not only has amazing views, but also a famous toilet from which you can enjoy them. No time was wasted ordering Dali beer on arrival and well in to the evening, ensuring everyone in our dorm  was included in the late night banter. Our room looked out over the stunning canyon as a thunderstorm battled it way through the middle, one of those places I wish we could have enjoyed for a few more days.

The next morning we set off for the final two hour journey down to Tina's guest house, where I decide to continue on with Mauro to Shangri La and booking our bus ticket for later that afternoon (unfortunately my backpack had only been packed for the one night). We ventured the steep climb down rocky steps and ladders to the deafening roar of the Class 6 rapids where the legendary tiger apparently evaded it chasers and leapt across the gorge.

The long road to Lijang

Due to previous difficulties executing a successful thumbs out attempt at hitch hiking, Zaza prepared me an A4 sign explaining in Chinese that I wanted a lift to Kunming, where I would then take a train to Lijang on my way to Tiger Leaping Gorge. The sign was a great success, I barely waited 20 minutes before a nice young girl who was travelling with her partner came running up excited to give me a lift for the 9 hour journey. They hardly spoke a word of English, though with the help of our respective translator apps we managed basic conversation.

Arriving in Kunming  train station I could have been forgiven for thinking I had landed on Wall St with the giant giant golden bull towering over the entrance. It's quite a confronting feeling being in a place late at night, tired and no idea what any of the travel schedules mean, especially when not even the information desk speaks English or wants to try and attempt some basic communication. Eventually I found the right ticket window where my first lesson of China train travel was delivered; tickets sell out days in advance during peak season. As there was no seats for two days and my research showed the last bus had left earlier that evening, I lugged my bags down the street and waited at the bus stop for the long distance bus station just to double check. Given it was now 10pm and I doubted the station was even open, a stroke of luck hit me when a rough conversation with some locals ended with a lady leading me down a few back streets to a sleeper bus ready to depart for Lijang! I couldn't believe my luck, although sometimes the universe has a way of balancing us out as I used a horribly disgusting toilet in a rundown hotel, where the water pipe that was holding my bag fell off the wall leaving it in a messy puddle of who knows what atrocities.

The sleeper but was fitted out to a Chinese standard, with three rows of bunk beds all short enough to ensure a taller man does not enjoy a comfortable nights sleep. I met three students travelling on university holidays who spoke reasonable English and were off to hike the gorge as well, its these random acquaintances which end up being invaluable in foreign language countries. Thanks to the help from one of my little blue sleeping pills, I only stirred when the bus randomly stopped a few hours during the middle of the night and again when a lady in a bed opposite mine answered her mobile at 3am and had absolutely no concept of inside voice (another lesson learnt, Chinese = loud). Instead of being dropped at Lijang we found ourselves at the Dali train station and my new mates explained that there were problems on the road so we would be given train tickets for the final two hour journey, still plenty of time to grab a late breakfast and make it to Lijang for the 2:30pm bus out to the gorge.

Racing over to the bus station in Lijang I was delivered more bad news, there was no afternoon bus and I would need to wait until 8am to get out and start hiking the gorge. Mauro, an Italian student who was sharing the same frustration joined me  to explore the picturesque but very touristy old town in Lijang and find a hostel for the night. A couple of lads from Amsterdam tried to help us find a place without much luck, but it turned out they would be catching the same bus in the morning so we agreed to team up. The hunt continued until one hostel had a partner located just outside the old town and took our payment in exchange for a room receipt and a hotel business card. You would think a card which has the address written in Chinese and a map on the back would make the '15 minute walk' easy, well.. NO. We spent almost 3 hours(!!) walking around showing people the card as they all proceeded to point in different directions and instruct us to catch different buses. By the end we were so pissed off at having to lug our big bags all over town that we called the hostel who sent somebody out on foot to collect us.

Learning to surf

My last morning in Laos consisted of waking up early to grab breakfast, only to find that everyone else decided to sleep in due to the rain,  so it was one very hungry who traveller boarded the 7:30am bus to China. There is only the one border crossing to China through Boten, although my 9 hour bus went straight through from Luang Nam Tha to Jinghong. The entry point at Boten was an impressive looking steel structure, although the Chinese officials certainly weren't out to make any new friends. Once our bus arrived, armed officers

ordered us off and insisted we lay our bags on the wet ground for inspection, after some initial complaincancy that got me nowhere, I dediced it was easier to comply rather than being turned around before I even made it into the country. Inside the immigration office the mood hadn't improved much as they fired questions like"do you speak Chinese" and "why do you come to China", a simple look at the bloody immigration form shows that I'm on holiday, not that it was off to a pleasant start.

I was excited to be in a country that never rated highly on the to do travel list, ready to see what this unfamiliar land had to offer. The language barrier was my biggest concern as the month which my visa allowed me to stay was a blank canvas, hopefully somebody will speak English as I certainly cant read the destinations at a train station. First impressions were of significant land development; whatever hadn't been constructed on seemed to either be rubber tree plantations (sprawling over mountains as far as the eye could see) or otherwise utilised for agriculture. This outlook was enjoyed from the comfort of long roads, supported by tunnels straight through any mountain or bridges over any decline that might stand in the way of smooth driving .

My first stop was to be a couch surfing initiation, previously I had signed up to the online international community who offer accommodation (without remuneration), providing a great opportunity to gather some local insight and make new friends. Up until now the hosts have not fitted in with my travel plans but I was excited to be meeting Zaza, a 21 year old student who kindly rocked up on his scooter to collect me and my oversized bag from the bus station. We hit it off instantly and the rave reviews from the American girl I met in Muang Khua (who coincidently had just come from surfing with Zaza) were confirmed. We arrived at his apartment in one of the nicer areas of town where another Chinese couch surfer was staying along with Zaza's mum who was visiting from a nearby town.

That evening we ventured out for my introduction to Chinese cuisine, the boys were warned that I could handle it hot, so they took care of the ordering; a giant chili soup bowl with fish (bones and heads included), eggplant drenched in oil, salad, rice and a delicious tube shaped meat dish.. which they waited until after dinner to announce that it was in fact pigs large intestine. Later we headed to the riverside night market so I could satisfy my fruit juice craving, backed up by beers at a local bar.

The following morning I set out with the other couch surfer to check out a nearby minority village, while waiting for the bus I used the opportunity to practice my hitch hiking skills though everybody just smiled and waived, maybe I didn't have the technique perfected yet. For breakfast we ate some unusual large soup concoctions, they were very oily as I was soon to learn would be the cuisine standard in China, not a great country to visit if your health food conscious. Wandering around the city of Jinghong gave off what I would expect to be a bit of a Miami vibe; warm sun, palm trees and flash cars, all that was missing was the beach. We rode elephants and sampled the province speciality, rose petal cake which tasted ok although a little sweet for my liking.

It was a 40 minute ride out to the village and we told the driver to drop us off a kilometre prior as the plan was to sneak in avoiding the extortionate entry fee. He dropped us right at the entrance and we suspect also tipped off the officials that we may be up to something, possibly scared of missing out on some form of commission. This did not dampen our spirit and we hiked around to a small housing estate at the side of the village, playing dumb as if we were looking for a toilet when we ran in to the first security guard. It turns out you must be part of a group that hires a guide in this village, so on our own we stuck out like dogs balls. Further up the road we found another way in and quickly amalgamated ourselves with a tour group, mission successful.

The Jinou village is famous for being the last identified minority village in china back in 1979.We walked around learning about their hunting, banking, marriage rituals and the sun drum which is their most divine worshipped object. The whole village was totally geared for tourism, recently constructed to not just educate visitors but also empty their wallets on tacky souvenirs, hardly the ethnic experience expected. I was sucked in to buying a wheel of tea leaves after sneaking in and joining a demonstration of the various vintages , which the lovely girl tirelessly refilled my cup. Not long after during a dance performance we were spotted by the initial security guard who marched over with a red faced lady who kept yelling at us in Chinese, no idea what she was saying but my mate made sure he only spoke to her in English as we made a hasty exit.

Hitch hiking back to town was a success as we scored a lift to the main road in a ute and then then were picked up by a lovely couple in their M series BMW, boosting my confidence before the pending attempt to hitch my way up to Kunming. The boys took me out for dinner to try the famous hot pot, a large chili soup pot which is heated over a gas burner and filled with all kinds of meats and vegetables. Once your chosen dish is cooked, you  further enhance the meal with your individual condiment bowl, prepared in advance from a vast selection of ingredients. It was a great meal although they had built up the spice factor a bit much.

Zaza invited me to go along some of his mates to a festive lunch in a nearby village, although we were picked up we had to abandon the car which one of the girls had borrowed from her dad, the sedan was struggling through the rocky mud pit after a night of heavy rain. Around 5km from the village, covered in mud and carrying cartons of beer, we luckily managed to get picked up on motorbikes from the hosts once the phones were in range. I'm still not sure what the celebration was for, somebody might have mentioned their new years or something similar. Endless bowls of unfamiliar food and beers were provided, some of the guys fixated on catching wasps that were drowned in Baijo(local spirit) before knocking it back in shots. Unfortunately we couldn't stay late as our driver had another function that evening, though our wasp drinking mates were kind enough to give us a lift back to the car. In the morning we tried to hunt down the infamous BBQ pigs brains, although everywhere was sold out so we settled with Zazas mum cooking up a feast, which Zaza slept through until it was time to drop me at the highway for an attempt to hitchhike north.