Have You Ever Gone to a Show Alone?

Bonfire Extravaganza

After visiting Lijiang Old Town, I fly to Xi Shuang Ban Na, also known as Sipsongpanna, which in native Thai literally means “twelve thousand rice fields”. It’s a city in Yunnan close to the border of Burma, Thailand, and Laos. Tropical weather, lots of ethnic minorities, you begin to see Thai influence in the temples and architectural styles.

On the way there, I couldn’t help it but to think about Han. I was seriously disturbed after meeting him. I thought this “one-man-to-multiple-wife” thing was a dinosaur concept as outdated as feudal China. It’s 2011, for god’s sake, are we progressing backwards now? He kind of ruined the image I’d originally held about Chinese men, who in my eyes, were supposed to be family-oriented and loyal, more into relationships than one-night-stands. Sweet, caring and romantic…

I was half hoping I’d fall in love with one…

And then I meet Cloud.

There’s a popular evening event in Xi Shuang Ban Na called bonfire evening extravaganza. It’s set in what used to be the imperial gardens of the Thai rulers. At the event you get all you can eat local specialty foods, and there’s a 2-hour evening show, and in the end, a bonfire.

The evening show of singing and dance in brilliant ethnic minority costumes included an interactive element, where the humorous host will invite members of the audience on stage to play some games, and make fun of them at the same time.

“Can I please have four volunteers?...Three gentlemen, and one lady…” the host asked.

Before the he could finish his sentence, I hear a rumble on the floor among the audience, as men jumped out of their seats, squeezed past their neighbors, dashed to the front, and leapt on stage.

The slowest runner, and hence the fourth man to leap on stage, was Cloud.

The host asked him to return to his seat since he’s clearly, not a woman.

Unfazed by the host’s request, Cloud went up to the third guy, whispered something into his ears, who then promptly walked off the stage like an obedient puppy. And the man left standing in his spot, was Cloud.

The host asks again among the audience for a female volunteer.

A long silence draped over the halls like a heavy blanket.

No one would go up.

The host asks again.

Still, no one.

After the 3^rd call for volunteers, I was so surprised that no one went up. I mean if this was in North America, at least three girls would have raced up stage along with the men at the first call.

Are Chinese women that shy? The place was completely sold out. There’re over 2000 people, and half of them were women. I’m shy by nature too, so volunteering was out of the question for me.

“Can we please have a female volunteer from the audience?” The host continues.

There’s desperation in his voice, “or I’ll start picking…”

People began to shift and fidget and look around their seats nervously.

I couldn’t sit there and watch this any longer. Overwhelmed or maybe compelled by a sense of duty to get the show started, and to pay homage to my North American upbringing…

I stood up.

It took a moment for the host to notice me, still searching in the darkness for a glimmer of hope. It wasn’t until people started pointing that he finally looked in my direction.

“And we have a volunteer! Please come on up!”

The host is relieved to finally see someone, anyone, willing to participate. The whole place clapped. Relieved also.

I walk up feeling like a hero.

“Where are you from, pretty lady?”

“Tianjin”

“Wow, you’ve come all the way here from Tianjin,” the distance between Tianjin and Xi Shuang Ban Na is a 7 hour flight.

“Where in Tianjin are you from?”  

I found it odd he asked me that question, (I mean, would you know even if I told you?) and wasn’t sure how to respond, so I said, “HeDong District”. If he’d then narrowed it down to street name and house number, I would’ve given it to him too. Whatever he asks, I just wanted to cooperate. My hands felt so cold and numb, as if all blood had drained from my fingertips and rushed to my face. All I could do was cooperate.

“Who are you here with?”

“No one”

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Are you sure? Are you just saying that because of what is about to happen?”

Hmm… I wonder what is about to happen, but it seems like staying single is the way to go, “I really don’t have a boyfriend,” I confirmed.

“Where are your friends?”

“They are at the airport.”

“And you came to the show all by yourself?”

“Yes.”

The audience found the exchange funny because it couldn’t possibly be true. Seriously, who goes to watch a play, or a musical, or a movie at the theaters by themselves, while her group of friends are about to fly out of the city? It’s as odd as a penguin taking a stroll in the jungle. But I was just telling the truth. My tour group had already gone to the airport because people’s flights were departing at different times of the evening. My flight wasn’t until much later that night, so I had time to check out this consistently sold-out event, highly recommended by tour guides and former travelers alike.

Somehow, our awesome tour guide managed to get me the very last ticket at the very last minute. Perhaps it was in keeping with this lucky pattern of “lasts”, I nudged myself out of my comfort zone and became the very last volunteer. And as I stood there, with blinding stage lights blazing down like hot camp fire, and 2000 pairs of eyes gazing up expectantly, my solo adventure ceased to be a solitary one. In fact, it is about to get a whole lot more interesting…

The host asked the four of us to turn around, with our backs facing the audience.

“Now ladies and gentlemen, have you ever wondered how ethnic minorities conduct their wedding ceremonies? Since our four volunteers are all single, willing, and without offspring, we thought we’d pair them off with some of our finest in Xi Shuang Ban Na,” the host announced.

Four actors in vibrant ethnic minority costumes came on stage, 3 women and 1 man.

“Now pick your future wives,” the host instructs, “And stands next to the woman of your choice.”

Two men stood on either side/both side of the prettiest girl in the bunch.

The host walks over and says, “Sorry, we don’t do ‘one-woman-to-multiple-husband’ kind of thing here. Since you came up last, you’re last to pick,” the host tells Cloud. He seems to enjoy picking on Cloud. Reluctantly, Cloud walks over to his second girl of choice. I hope he thought of something nice to say, like, “I only picked her because I was intimidated by how stunning you are.”

The choice for me was easy, since there’s only one guy on stage. I went to stand next to him. The host comes over and says, “Look at you, you’re grinning from ear to ear. Are you satisfied with this man?”

“Yes.”

“Because if you’re not, there’s more backstage that you can choose from.”

“Oh, really?” I raise my eye brows with interest.

“One is eighteen, one is twenty-eight, and the third one is eighty-eight. Which one would you prefer?”

“The twenty-eight year old?”

“The eighteen year old has a pockmarked face, the twenty-eight year old has herpes, but the eighty-eight year old is strong and healthy, just a few missing teeth. Now which one do you want?”

“I’ll stick with this one,” I reply meekly.

“Good choice. You guys look good together.”

While the host goes on to harass other couples. My “future husband” takes off my hat, and helps me change into ethnic minority clothing - a colorful turban with tassels on each corner, and gently ties an apron around my waist.

“Before we conduct the wedding ceremonies, and you officially become a married couple. Is there anything…why are you so nervous? Don’t be so nervous girl.” The host says.

I was so nervous I didn’t realize I was being nervous, and that it was so obvious. I shake myself out from top to bottom. “Ok don’t be so nervous,” I mutter to myself, and then announce, “Ok not nervous anymore.”

The host chuckles, “Is there anything you’d like to know about this man? Are you satisfied with the way he looks?”

I study his face for a second. He has a beautifully structured face. Big bright eyes, sun-kissed skin. Very handsome. Since I am about to “marry” him, hmm...I wonder how he looks…

“I’m only getting partial view, not the full picture here,” I reply provocatively.

The host paused for a second. Not sure if he’d heard me right, or not sure how to respond? Then he gave me a little mischievous smirk, as if to say, I didn’t see that one coming, but this is getting interesting, kiddo.

“What would you like to see?”

I think about my options for a second, hmm… I wonder if he goes to the gym, and has nice biceps, or thick, well-defined pecs, and oh, a six-pack would be nice…wait, why do I have to pick and choose?

“Everything…” I reply greedily.

The whole place bursts into an uproar of laughter. I turn around to give them a wink, as if to say, we’re in this together.

My “fiancé’s” face turns into a red tomato. The audience is clapping hard to pressure him into compliance.

“I’m sorry dude, I guess today ain’t your lucky day. Looks like they really want  to see EVERYTHING,” the host says to my “fiancé” apologetically, who is standing up straight like a stick, hands down his sides, clenching his pants, wearing a facial expression of agony and embarrassment and restrained laughter that looks as if he’s about to be raped.

Seeing this multitude of emotions pass over his face, the host decides to help him out a bit, and says to me,

“Ok, how about we show you everything from the neck up?”

I shake my head. No deal.

“How about from the chest up?”

No deal.

“How about we show you half of everything?”

Ok, that’s what I would’ve bargained for. I nod in agreement.

The host then turned to face my “fiancé”, and then as quick as lightening, swiftly lifted his shirt for just a second, then asked me, “Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“Half of everything?”

“I saw his bellybutton,” I said. Sure it was a nice bellybutton, but who cares about bellybuttons, we’re about to get married…

“Oh I saw a lot more than that.”

“What did you see?” I ask in confusion.

“I saw his bellybutton…and three strands of black hair growing out of it,” the host said.

We all laugh. My “fiancé” lets out a big sigh of relief. I hold his hand to comfort him.

The host says, “Why are you holding his hand?”

I look at him innocently as if to say, why not?

“Why are girls so forward these days? You’re not married yet you know?!” 

I promptly let go of his hand like an obedient child.

The host then moves on to tease the other 3 couples. That’s when I overhear that Cloud is from Beijing, and he’s a tour guide. He’s very funny and is one of the crowd’s favourites. I’d thought he was one of the actors hiding among the audience pretending to be a tourist.

Each couple has to complete a challenge before they can marry. One of the couples had the “fiancé” smoke out of a pipe the size of a Japanese missile, because that’s the size pipes come in, in XiShuangBanNa. They turned off the stage lights while he sucked on that thing. When they turned the lights back on, the “fiancé” had a black ring of smoke on his face. Kind of like the Got Milk? Milk moustache Commercial…, but with Got Smoke? Instead.

The challenge for my “fiancé” and I was to switch places on a short narrow stool without falling off it. If we succeed, then we’d be allowed to marry.

I don’t see how this was possible, considering the stool is only maybe 15cm wide. He looked at me reassuringly, and says, “Don’t worry, just follow my lead.” Don’t you just love it, when guys say that to you?

He held my arms, placed a foot in between my feet, and asked me to place a foot in between his feet. Then in one fluid movement, before I could realize what had happened, voila, we’ve switched places, and we’re still on the stool!

While we stood on the stool, rejoicing over our success, the host asks me, “How long have you been in XiShuangBanNa?”

“Two days.”

“Where are you going tonight? I mean, which hotel, so you can take your soon-to-be husband with you.”

“I’m going to the airport.”

Cloud chimes in, “Oh I’m going to the airport too! I’ll see you there.”

The host makes a few more jokes, and then asks the audience to choose their favourite couple: numbered 1, 2, 3, and 4.

Maybe certain members of the audience had the strongest vocal chords, or the biggest lungs, or particularly enjoyed screaming, we heard a rambunctious wave of cheers for “Couple number 2”.

We were couple number 2.

My “fiancé” and I remain on stage to perform the wedding ceremony.

The girls bring up golden goblets of Chinese spirits. I was surprised these were real spirits not just water for show. As we crossed our arms to drink together, my “husband” whispers to me, “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to.” I drank it anyway. Having so many people stare at me while I wed this man, I wouldn’t mind a little alcohol in my system.

And then they brought up two more sets of goblets of hard liquor for us to drink. Each time my husband would caringly whisper the same thing about not drinking. And I’d sweetly ignore him and drink it up in one gulp every time.

After the drinking and ceremonies, my “husband” picks me up and holds me in his arms, (in case the bride runs off?).

The host says to me, “so now you’re officially husband and wife. Look all that he’s done for you, are you happy?”

“Yes”

“Really? How happy?”

“Very very happy.”

“That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.”

“I’m super happy.” Running out of words to describe happy.

And to prove my point, I give my “husband” a kiss on the cheek.

He was shocked and nearly dropped me. (I thought he liked me?) The audience loved it and applaud loudly.

“You’re so forward! I haven’t even asked you to kiss him and you’re kissing him already!”

“Too handsome. Can’t help it.” I confess. Darn! Should’ve waited for that line where the priest says, ‘you may kiss the bride’.

“Now that you’re going take your new husband with you to the airport, I’m going to ask you to leave us with something. Can you sing us a song?”

“I can only sing one song.”

“What is that?”

“Happy Birthday.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious.”

I can dance but I really can’t sing. Mom has always said that I’m tone deaf. So I never bothered with learning songs growing up. While my “husband” carries me in his strong, muscular arms (he could’ve put me down long ago), I sing Happy Birthday in front of 2000 people, completely out of tune. The host almost didn’t let me pass, but the audience was mightily satisfied. They gave me a gift of appreciation, a little hand-woven purse that’s got XingShuangBanNa embroidered on it.

And walking out, I almost had this celebrity status. People would come up and say, “Are you that girl on stage earlier? I thought you’re an actress. You really ARE a tourist.” Others would ask if I’d exchanged contact information with my “husband”, to continue the romance off stage. He’s only 20 for god’s sake and I’m going back to Tianjin tonight! Even later at the airport, people would pass by, and I’d hear them whisper, “Isn’t that the girl?” Some would even come up and tell me, “You were so funny, and so brave. I thought you were an actress from CCTV”. I think I’ve done Canada proud.

I ran into Cloud at the airport also. We chatted for a bit before he had to board. He’s a man in his thirties or forties. Deeply tanned, direct, sincere, rough around the edges and has a gruff sense of humor. Forever resentful that I was the crowd’s favourite and he was disappointingly the close second. He really is a tour guide in Beijing. But is a tourist on this trip also. I tell him I might visit Beijing soon. He tells me there’s a cool palace once occupied by the best looking man in Qing Dynasty in Beijing, and that I should I check it out. We exchanged phone numbers and he flew off.

One Night in Lijiang...

Our tour guide gives us the whole afternoon to ourselves to explore the old town. The new friends I’ve made on the tour bus wanted to try the local specialty – roasted black goat, which I admit, does sound exotic and appetizing. But I wanted to spend every minute in Lijiang Old Town soaking it up, so I politely declined this most delicious offer to join them.

I wandered through the octagonal maze, snapping pictures everywhere like a good tourist. On a busy lane not far from Si Fang Jie, is a bunch of brightly lit, delicious-looking food stands, side by side, making lime green steamed buns, chow miens, and grilled tofu pockets. I ordered a bowl of steaming noodles with pork, soy sauce, vinegar, sesame and chili oil, and sat down on the crowded wooden bench.

As I was slowly slurping away, watching people walk by, a guy from across the table starts talking to me,

“Hey beautiful, are you traveling alone?”

I look up to find a man in his twenties maybe, pale skin. Not the best looking guy I’ve seen but not repulsive either. He goes on to tell me his name is Han, and that he’s on a road trip with a group of friends from Chengdu - the capital of the neighboring province SiChuan. One of the girls in his group chimes in, “He’s nice and single!” I chuckled shyly. Han politely invited me to join them at the local pub later that night, which I’d gladly accepted.

After the sun sets, Lijiang slips on her favourite party dress and dangling strings of red lanterns, all seductive and alluring. The town is lit up from under. If you look at it from afar, it’s layers upon layers of golden pagoda style rooftops, jade trees, and huge waterwheels “pumping blood” into the city that is 800 years young. Young people from all around the world roam the ancient streets, looking for people they’ve yet to meet, and stories they’ve yet to tell.

Water wheels in Lijiang

Lijiang pub lane at night

The pub lane is where the action is at, half bluestone, half water canal. Two-story timber and tile pub houses stand on either side of the waterway, lined by willow trees, connected by tiny little bridges that date as far back as the Ming dynasty.

The pubs have really interesting names, One Meter of Sunshine, Peach Blossom Island, Back Lane Number 5, Green Bird, to name a few. Everyone has got their windows and doors wide open. Some are blasting Chinese pop music; others have live bands, bellydancers, or in-house singers performing. Pretty boys and girls in vibrant ethnic minority costumes stand outside to pull tourists in to get the night started. It is quite a different experience being pulled into every pub versus being made to wait in line outside like we do in Vancouver. The whole town is throbbing with excitement.

Ethnic minorities in China are like Native Indians in Canada.
This is an example of their brilliant traditional clothing.

Sakura Kim - the pub I went to

I was to meet Han and his friends at a pub called Sakura Kim. A boy warmly greeted me at the door. Seeing I arrived alone, pulled me in and sat me down at a table with a man. The man is very good looking, like Korean movie star good looking. I explain I’m here to meet some friends. The waiter doesn’t listen, cracks open a beer for me and insists that I sit there for a while.

He must have been someone who’d ordered the “intimate encounter” special.  With Canadian maple syrup on the side.

Feeling awkward, I got up and went back outside to call Han. He came to get me. When I got to his table, it was just him and another guy. “Where did the whole group of people go?” I asked him. It was only 11 and the pub was starting to look empty. “They went back to the hotel,” he said.

‘Hmm…this isn’t quite what I had in mind.’ I thought to myself, ‘Is this where they get the girl drunk and take her to bed?’

On stage, the talk show host was starting a live auction game. They first auctioned off a glass of cocktail called the Sakura Kim Special. The next item up for auction was a comic book entitled “How to Pick Up a Girl in 3 Seconds”, written by the pub owner on the infamous bar scene in Lijiang.

“You definitely don’t need that book,” I joke to Han.

“I could write one!” he nods confidently, “But you need to read it”.

I was thinking, ‘why would I need to read it? I would much prefer “How to Get a Guy to Ask for Your Number in 3 Seconds”’

He doesn’t wait for me to respond, and starts bidding.

100…

200…

300…

I have to admit, there’s something very sexy about a man bidding for a woman. Even if I didn’t care for the book itself, it’s the action. He’s fighting with other people for this “prized possession”, demonstrating his generosity, beating all other bidders, and finally getting the book at 10 times the original price. During the whole bidding process, he didn’t look at me once. When the waitress brought the book, he gestured to me, and said coolly, “It’s for the lady.” The whole place clapped.

No one has ever done that for me before. I know he was doing it to impress me, but I can't say that I wasn't impressed. Let's just say I giggled a little (or a lot) inside. I felt like the prettiest girl in the room. If my ego had legs, it probably would’ve gone on stage and pranced around with a victory sign.

After the auction, we played drinking games for a while. The bar was closing. Han offered to take me back to the hotel. I thanked him for the beautiful evening and politely declined the offer. He insisted. I refused again. He insisted again. I refused again. After half an hour of back and forth, I finally gave in, and said, “Ok, you can take me back to the hotel, but you’re not coming in.” 

We took a cab together. I offered the cab driver fare for the round trip so Han could go home, which Han took to be hugely offensive. We get off; walk through the meandering paths of the traditional Chinese garden under the soft moonlight. Han gently held my hand in his. Part of me was feeling sad the romantic evening is coming to an end, and wondering what if… what if I had another day here, another moment, another life… would there be a beautiful ever after? The other part, recovered from the influence of alcohol, is pushing me to turn around to bid him good night and store Han on the shelf of the past that will remain forever unexplored. As I’m about to act on the clearer and better part of my thinking, I notice something was awry.

The gate was closed...

When I pushed on it, it was locked.

Are you kidding me?

I was staying at these really cute traditional Chinese houses in a sprawling garden. Each house had its own 24-hour butler, (or so I thought), who carried the key to the gate. I must have pressed the doorbell 20 times, called the tour guide, buzzed the hotel switchboard, asked the security guard, but no one could reach my butler, who apparently is the one and only person with the key to my gate.

It was 2 in the morning. I was locked out.

Are you fucking kidding me?

I paced around the courtyard breathing out hot air into the cool evening sky. This can’t be happening! This can’t actually be happening! What kind of hotel does this to its guests? Hotels have curfews? I could just imagine a disclaimer posted at the front entrance saying: ‘Dear guest, if you return later than midnight, you will be locked out of the premises and rendered homeless.’ What are we, Cinderella and the pumpkin carriage here? I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

In the end, Han said, “Let’s just go back to my hotel. It’s on Si Fang Jie.”

‘Is this a joke?’ I thought. I was trying so hard not to spend the night with him, and now I have no choice? I didn’t even have enough cash left on me to get another room. I contemplated the other option of sitting on the cold stone bench until dawn. That didn’t seem comfortable, or at all lady-like.

So we cabbed back, and spent a few uncomfortable hours sharing a bed, where I learned Han is 30, and works as a loan administrator for a few private lenders. He studied Chinese literature in university. His mom is a teacher, dad used to manage a few people in a factory in a small town in SiChuan. They divorced when he was six, but it made him mature a lot sooner.

I also learned that Han is in fact not single, and has several girlfriends. Fidelity seems to have zero meaning to him. His girlfriend is well aware of his sexual escapades, but accepts it, and even supports it. She intends to marry him.

“My girlfriend keeps on asking me when I’m going to get some more girlfriends. If I only have the one girlfriend, it’s embarrassing. Because most guys around us have several girlfriends. Did you see that chubby guy at the noodle stand with that pretty girl?” Han says.

“Yeah? She’s very pretty. Isn’t that his girlfriend?” I ask.

“That’s his other girlfriend,” Han says.

My jaw must have dropped in the darkness. I stared straight into the ceiling, with my brows firmly knotted into a deep frown of confusion. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. What kind of girl would want to marry someone like Han? What kind of surroundings make Han think this kind of arrangement is at all acceptable? I didn’t know what to make of Han, or the world around him.

Han asked me to abandon my tour group and come with him on his road trip. He'll pay for my flight back home. I thanked him for the generous offer, but refused, for I very much looked forward to the next destination, Xi Shuang Ban Na – China’s tropical jungle.

At around 6 o’clock, I got up and walked out through the 800 year old town in its morning glory. It's so quiet and peaceful. Some of the shop keepers are out sweeping the narrow bluestone streets. Backpackers are on their way to the next destination, where ever that may be. Photographers with their long lenses try to capture this bit of quietude, the moment where this charming old lady is just waking up, before she puts on her make up for the world to see. You begin to see how old the place really is, the wrinkles that went unnoticed in the dim lights at night.

I feel slightly sad about leaving Han, but understand such is the nature of things. Some people are meant to walk with you for a while, and then your paths will part. So just enjoy your time together, however short it may be, and let fate decide, if and when, your paths will cross again.

I let out a gentle sigh and draw in a big breath of fresh air. My lungs are filled with happiness. Watching this town in the soft sunlight of dawn, I reminisce for a moment the eventful past 15 hours, I got to see the old town of Lijiang in its hustle and bustle under the hot afternoon sun, watched it turn into an experienced seductress at dusk, and now its age and purity in the morning. I drank green tea in an ancient teahouse, met a boy at a noodle stand, checked out the infamous bar scene, experienced an "intimate encounter", got locked out of my own room, and spent the night in a boutique hotel right here on Si Fang Jie.

That was fun.

The 800-Year-Old Beauty - Lijiang Old Town

A Typical Lane in Lijiang Old Town

I saw a friend’s Facebook status the other day, and it went like this, “Two friends: one lives in Beijing, the other lives in Lijiang. One is making a hundred thousand a year, can’t afford to buy a house, rents a tiny apartment, has a 9 to 5 job, takes bus to work, breathing car exhaust, working like a dog trying to climb the corporate ladder; the other is a freelance photographer, no fixed income, lives in an old traditional Chinese courtyard house by the lake, sleeps until noon, drinks tea all day in the sunshine, watching clouds float by snow-capped mountains. One thinks the other has no ambition. The other thinks he doesn’t know to enjoy life.”

Which one would I rather be?

I think I’m moving from the former to the latter. Slowly. In transition.

Especially now that I’m in Lijiang, I fully intend to do some tea drinking and sunbathing and cloud watching.

Lijiang is the reason I came to Yunnan.

I saw it in a movie 10 years ago, and have wanted to visit ever since. It’s love at first sight. The old town of Lijiang is 800 years old, and it takes you back in time the moment you walk in.

Red lanterns, willow trees, bluestone streets, narrow and winding lanes, 350 little bridges, wood houses, lush gardens, green ponds, brilliant gold fish, it captures your eyes like a beautiful woman, and your heart like a lovely soul (too cheesy?, but that’s really how I felt. It’s like a woman who’s got the face the body and the depth). The air is intoxicating. Everywhere you look is a picture perfect scene for an ancient love story. It amazes me that so much visual interest and architectural variety can be neatly crammed into 900 acres of land. It’s like a decadent chocolate cake. You cut it open and then realize how many layers of flavor are hidden inside. I felt like I don’t have enough eyes to take it all in. Every corner you turn, you discover something new that tickles your interest. It’s a book you never tire of reading. A dish you never weary of eating. It’s like aged Pu Er Tea, you can wash it, steep it endless times and it’s still full of fragrant flavor. It’s a town you walk away from and miss right away.

In addition to this entire sensory overload, there’s something very sensual and poetic about Lijiang.

I think it’s the presence of water that lends it that feeling. Water is the spirit and soul of the old town. Lijiang, literally means “beautiful waterway”. Some people call it Oriental Venice. It used to be the “palace” of the local ruler, who must have hired an excellent irrigation engineer, with the skills and brilliance way ahead of his time, when he designed this place. I’ll explain in a bit.

Downtown Lijiang is called Si Fang Jie (Four Square Street). It’s a square shaped open space, paved with stone, connecting four major streets in different directions. Then in a spider web formation, smaller lanes radiate from the four main streets, reaching every corner of town. The main water source from Black Dragon Pool divides into hundreds of little streams running in parallel with these stone lanes, reaching every household.

In each house, there are three pools the water flows through. The top pool is used for drinking and cooking, the middle pool for cleaning fruits and vegetables, and the third pool, the bottom pool, is used for washing clothes. See what I mean by excellent irrigation engineer? Such efficient use of water all designed from 800 years ago.

Three different pools for drinking, cleaning vegetables, and washing clothes.

Streets are paved with local bluestone, which are neither muddy in the rainy season nor dusty in the dry season. At night the sluice at the center is opened and the resulting water current flushes the town to keep it clean.

Houses are made of timber and tiles, mostly two stories tall with a courtyard garden and engraved figures of people and animals on windows and doors, perfect environment for sipping afternoon tea and watching the clouds float by. (No wonder that freelance photographer never wanted to leave.)

The old town is quaint, intriguing, and mysterious. It’s ancient scientific wisdom married charmingly with ethnic minority multiculturalism. I could spend all day piling on all of my favourite words to describe her, and it doesn’t even begin to illustrate how in awe and in love I am with it all. When standing in her presence, in her eternal embrace of charm and beauty and grace, I feel some ancient, famous love story must have happened here.

How could you not want to fall in love here? The air itself smells like sweet romance.

Unfortunately, the only story I’ve heard about the place has nothing to do with love. It’s about why the old town doesn’t have a city wall.

Not to despair, young travelers make up for it with modern reenactments of Romeo and Juliet, or more commonly known as - “what happens in Lijiang stays in Lijiang”.

At night, the town is so well-known for intimate encounters that some pubs have it advertised on a carved wooden board hung proudly outside the door, and some tourists would walk into the pub and order an “intimate encounter” like a dish on the menu. To which the hostess would politely respond with a smile, “Gentlemen, please follow me to the bar, where you’ll be most strategically positioned for meeting pretty ladies who walk in. And … good luck!”

The board says, "Lijiang Intimate Encounters"

I also had my little share of “intimate encounters” in Lijiang.

Well, not exactly.