A Chairman Mao Alarm Clock and A Chinese Haircut

Casey writes:

Arriving in Lijiang, we jumped on the first public bus we saw, paid our 1 yuan each, and hoped for the best. Destination: Lijiang's World Heritage Listed Old Town. We disembarked the bus at a random stop, and started walking. An hour later, with our heavy backpacks weighing us down, we finally stumbled into the Timeless Hostel.

The Old Town is gorgeous, albeit completely geared at Chinese tourists. Tiny cobblestoned alleys, quaint bridges and one million tourists. The shops sell every imaginable piece of tat available to humankind.

We were feeling adventurous, so with postcards in hand, we ventured into our second Chinese post office. Again to our horror, we were quoted $90 for three postcards, until we made a big enough fuss for Mrs Post Office Boss to arrive on the scene. Suddenly, in a flurry of hand waving and a Mandarin rant that was lost on me, our postage cost was reduced to less than $10, and despite a few miscommunications, we emerged from the shop victorious.... I think!

In Lijiang we visited Black Dragon Pool, a beautiful and tranquil garden and lake area. As evening approached, we walked down Bar Street, in Richard's unlikely hope that the Southampton soccer game would be shown on TV. No soccer, but instead, we were nearly sucked in by dozens of nightclubs, all with strobe lights, pumping music, screaming singers, and drunk Chinese tourists bopping along, in full view of meandering walkers outside. The scary thing was that the sun hadn't even set yet.

Hiring bikes to ride the 12km to a small village called Baisha sounded like a great idea on Day 2 of our stay in Lijiang. The quoted 'one hour' ride took us over two hours and I was mortified by how unfit I seemed and why just pushing each pedal was causing me exhaustion. The explanation became apparent on the ride back to Lijiang... we barely had to use the pedals the whole way home... because it was DOWNHILL! So, in good news, I'm not that unfit afterall, just unable to tell when I'm pedalling up a hill for two hours.

The drawcard in Baisha for us was Dabaoji Palace, which housed frescoes from the 13th and 14th centuries, With very few tourists, it was a very peaceful and enjoyable experience.

Just outside the walls of the palace, we stumbled across a very small local market. Now, I enjoy a good market with the best of them, but this one was unique. Each stall had on offer, trinkets and treasures that had obviously been hoarded over the years in the hope that two tourists from Australia and England would arrive. For some loose change, we firstly purchased a small brass Buddha and a glass hand-painted perfume bottle. Both items looked very old and I heard Richard muttering something about the millions he would soon make on the Antiques Roadshow TV program. This was followed by a purchase of a small ball clock which still worked.... and then the purchase of all purchases: A large bright red Chairman Mao Alarm Clock... and yes both the alarm function and the saluting hand that moved back and forth in time with the seconds ticking, worked perfectly! What more could we have asked for? So, the 'one souvenir per country' rule that Richard imposed on me all the way back in Australia, was smashed in a matter of seconds by the very man who laid down this law in the first place. And as I am writing this, he is lying on the bed, looking lovingly at the alarm clock sitting on the desk in the corner of the room.

Richard decided I needed a laugh this afternoon, so we stopped at a hairdressers on the way home from Baisha, for his much needed haircut. Armed with our Mandarin phrasebook, and chanting 'duoshao lifa?' (how much haircut?) so he wouldn't forget what to say, he entered the hairdressing salon. I didn't hear the exchange but I saw the hairdressers burst into laughter and then the next thing I knew, Richard was in the barber's chair and all was going well. I waited outside, and half an hour later I saw a very embarrassed Richard appear with his new 'do'. His hair was short on top and shaved to the skin on the sides.... he looked like he'd just received a buzz cut for the army. I did what all good girlfriends do in situations like this... I whipped out my camera and in between gulps of laughter, took some good shots for posterity.

In a moment of true karma, during the last leg of our bike ride home, as I overtook a truck in heavy traffic, the driver leant out his window to empty his mouth of phlegm, and proceeded to land a great mouthful of spit on me. Fortunately my bike took the brunt of it. Now, every time I hear the dreaded hucking sound as I walk along a street (which is a common and apparently accepted occurrence in Chinese society), I dive for cover.

As my thoughts turn to home for a moment, I am rejoicing in Essendon's defeat of Carlton; wishing that Wendy and all other teachers are enjoying their Easter holidays; thinking of Mum; and hoping that Nan makes a quick recovery in hospital. I'm thinking of you all.