Chongqing airport, our jump-off point to the South-west, was, as all airports so far, squeaky clean, and most modern in appearance – with the exception of a sullen official checking tickets, boarding passes, and passports in officious silence, as though she had to think about whether she'd let any given passenger actually get on his flight… Most planes sitting on the tarmac seem to be B-737s, but I also spotted a Tupolev, and even a venerable Antonov-24! Boarding takes place at a measured pace – first those with "green" tickets (business? VIP ?), then a long wait for the bus to return (not that there weren't enough buses hanging around).

There's a story which entered into urban legend: a domestic flight in China, in the 1970s. Everybody boards, settles in, the engines start, the engines go off. On the PA: "Plane sick, we take different plane". Everybody gets off, gets onto a different plane, engines start, engines go off. PA: "Plane more sick, we take first plane". Guess what? We boarded the plane, engines start, engines go off. Silence. Nothing. PA: "Please remain seated." We sit for about an hour, then I go forward, to a group of FAs, try to ask what's going on. They huddle, come back with an answer "Go back to your seat." Not quite what I wanted to hear, so I ask again, what's the problem, when do we take off, or go back to the building? Another huddle, this time with the captain, who just sits and smiles, then the PA: everybody back to the airport building. Groans all round, but at least we're able to stretch our legs.

At the airport, of course, nobody knows nothing, let alone speak English. Good stuff, this… Then, the usual: rumours flying, us trying to read Chinese, or at least the faces of our fellow passengers, hanging around trying to pick up some news, etc.

Well, after 3 hours worth of wait, sudden movement! I try to glance at the other's boarding cards, and it seems like our flight. We hop on, and hope that they fixed whatever it was that broke in the first place. More delays onboard, this time trying to check the number of Pax on board, and their corresponding luggage… This is probably why they didn't want us off in the first place.

Well, we finally made it. Kunming! The city of eternal spring! Situated on a plateau at c. 2000 meters, it boasts a moderate climate all year round. It's a small town, only about 3 million inhabitants. Once again, first impressions are very good. The airport was newly built in '99 for a national garden show, and so was the road to it. The 10-minute drive to the centre took us past some prefabs, to be sure, but the inner city itself – shades of Singapore! Glittering new office buildings, luxurious hotels, shops with all the Western luxury brands, lots of street life (but no street cafes that we could make out). It got dark when we came here, so there was no chance of exploring the older side streets, where the "Chinese" flavour is apparently still to be savoured.

I must admit, my whole preconception of China so far was pretty wrong, at least as far as the cities were concerned. I'm obviously far too influenced by Russia, Ukraine, or Central Asia. If only that lot could develop the same sort of energy as the Chinese could! But then again, the Chinese do have a 3000-year history, and have plenty of experience in trade and commerce. Which major Russian trading houses have you ever heard of? None, historically speaking. The Slavs were still crawling out of the Asian swamps when the Chinese invented paper, gunpowder, and a meritocratic centralised bureaucracy. At one point, the Emperor, instead of demanding tribute from his neighbours, actually sent treasure ships to buy them off! No wonder they shrugged off the Europeans as mere barbarians. OK, so the Chinese had their civil wars and evil rulers and exploited the peasantry, too, but still – the difference is amazing.

Kunming is at the south-west corner of China, basically just round the corner from Burma and Vietnam. The French built a railway (small-gauge) from Kunming to Hanoi. It's still in operation – 850 kms in 30 hours. Something Michael Palin might have taken…

A few klicks outside Kunming there’s the Stone Forest. Imagine Bryce Canyon in grey, and you'll get the picture. The locals are blessed with extraordinary imagination – every stone pillar is supposed to resemble something or other. The area used to be the ocean floor, give or take a few hundred million years ago. When the earth rose, this bizarre collection of stones was left over. It's very sunny, and the walk through this forest (continuous ups and downs) really winds me.

Next: a plane to catch to get to Lijiang. Everything went well this time round. Lijiang is some 400kms north of Kunming, right up in the highlands, at a height of c. 2000m. Nice pleasant weather. The town seems to have suffered an earthquake a few years back, and there is a lot of new building going on. Some of the new town is thus relatively sterile, more reminiscent of American generica.

First stop: a Tibetan monastery (Tibet being just round the corner from here). There are some 56 officially recognised minorities, plus, as we have learned, four different alphabets (of which one is Tibetan, and another Mongolian). Apparently these minorities make up a third of the population, which translates into c. 400 million people – which is more than the whole of Europe (but this information seems to depend on whom you ask – our Beijing guide says the Han make up 93% of the population. In fact, he was most emphatic about this, and says that the other number we were given is absolute rubbish). According to the book, most of the minorities are well treated since 1976 – which still doesn't prevent the majority from looking down on them, viewing them as an folkloristic curiosity. It seems the minorities are not subject to population control, i.e. may have more than one child. But the Western ones (Tibetans and Uigurs) frequently rebel, refusing to accept the obvious benefits of rule from Beijing, Han-Chinese immigration (Han being the majority, Beijing-like Chinese) and gradual assimilation into the mainstream. Nationality is dealt with in the same way as in any imperialist empire (including the Soviet Union): there is a national passport (Chinese, Soviet), but the passport defines another nationality (Han, Mongolian, Tibetan, Haxi, etc.). I don't really know the English expression for the German terms: "Staatsbürgerschaft" vs. "Nationalität" (which sum up the difference quite nicely). Of course, there's no question of individual nationalities being allowed to rule themselves…

There’s a Naxi village which has still retained much of its originality. The interesting thing here is that it is a matriarchical society - the men are mainly known as artists (and the very heavy work, of course...)
One of the main local attractions is the "Jade Dragon Snow Mountain" some 5540m high, and never yet conquered (a spontaneous suggestion to climb it was rejected by the majority of our group). Of course, there are plenty of mystical properties attached to the mountain – as there seems to be to any- and everything here. This is a classic view of the Black Dragon Lake with the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain in the background.
A stroll through the old town of Lijiang. No wonder it is UNESCO-protected! A wonderfully preserved ancient city centre, cobbled narrow streets, old Chinese houses (just like in the movies!), lots of shops of every description, even some cafés catering for the tourist. Nevertheless, one of the highlights of the trip.
Danny will have sorely missed the gastronomic descriptions. Given the language problem, there is no "truc a machin shtroumpf" but – if you're lucky enough to understand what they're saying – "beef", "pork", "duck", "tofu" – all in different sauces; depending where you are, there may be bits of chilli mixed in, which will burn off a layer of your gum quite nicely. Turns out, crispy chicken feet or dog are highly priced specialities, and pretty rare. There's always plenty of green tea (non-fermented, thus most healthy). In any case, there's lots of food, and no fatty cream sauces… Hopefully, I might have lost some weight!

A drive to Dali takes about 4 hours, and one passes through spectacular passes (up to 3000m) and paddy fields. One striking feature: virtually no agricultural machinery. Manual labour is still cheaper than machines. The only thing they seem to have are "iron oxen" – noisy and smelly engines mounted in front of a tricycle. Plenty of water-buffalo, oxen, horses, and mules still in evidence.

Dali, another ancient town with preserved city walls (with 2 monumental gates, again just like in the movies!) lies on the edge of a lake, still c. 1900m high. The climate is pleasant, not too hot, not too cold. It is mainly known for its Three Pagodas. On the way to the airport we passed through the "New Town" of Dali – and if you look closer, it turned out to be quite abysmal. It's called "windy city" not for fun. There's a permanent gust which only serves to spread the dust evenly all over town. We passed through some pretty soul-destroying industrial quarters, which still, somehow, managed to look a little better than their Russian equivalents

On the whole, having seen the new cities and the countryside, I still have to say that China has come a lot further than Russia, even if the country towns look not quite as fantastic as Shanghai, and there are still plenty of symptoms of the effects of central planning. If I had to decide as to where to do business – hey, no contest. China wins hands-down.

Wot - clay feet?

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