Tom: Kangding (July 22)

Kangding (July 22) · Jul 25, 09:35 AM

I bought a bus ticket yesterday, a 10:00 departure, bound for Kangding. That was another adventure, but I’ll just not mention it. There were no planes to Zhongdian, and no discount flights to Lijiang — both sites in northwest Yunnan. Summer season is upon us. Waves of Chinese students and European vacationers are upon us. I think I’ll be spending a lot of time on the bus.

I’m up by eight, call Dan, and he arrives. We eat a breakfast bought yesterday at Carrefour (bread was two for one!) — yoghurt, peanut milk (which I like very much) and the cheap breads. I quickly pack after eating and leave to catch a public bus with Dan and his friend to a beautiful bridge. I had wanted to get to a teahouse here, but this will be it — a nice bridge. We walk together to the Xinnanmen bus station. I pull cash from an ATM; even though I’ve still got almost 1500 kuai, my guidebook says I may not find working ATMS for a few days. I’m headed west along the Sichuan-Tibet Highway from which I will cut south into Yunnan. Probably there will be, but I’m (a) an ex-boy scout and (b) an engineer. I say goodbye to my two friends and embark. Those two have saved my Chengdu experience. The medicine I’m on may be helping — even though I tossed the antibiotics — but I think it was the company.

The bus ride takes me up and over a mountain ridge down to Luding, then back up — in a very winding fashion — to Kangding. There’s a lot of water; evidence of the typhoons that have been slamming China this year. Streams are swollen with brown runoff. Water pours in long picturesque waterfalls of the cliffs created by this road. It’s over-cast; forested mountain peaks disappear into the swirling grey. A guy told me the Sichuan-Tibet Highway was more difficult to built — it was completed in the early 1950s — than the Qinghai-Tibet train. Two workers died for every kilometer of snaking road carved out of these harsh mountains. Beautiful landscapes, steep terraced homesteads, raging streams, and lush undergrowth — this place has my heart.

On the bus ride, we saw first Heart of Dragon, then House of Fury, and then the first part of Jackie Chan’s Project A II. House of Fury is a top notch, very moder Hong Kong film. The opening fight sequence is worth its weight in young puppies.

In Kangding, the first thing I do is buy my onward ticket to Litang. Well, I tried. Both of tomorrow’s buses are booked; I’ll have to return in the morning to buy tickets for the day after that. This sucks. I’ve said it before: I don’t have days to waste, and I don’t want to waste them in a Tibetan town turned Chinese tourist trap — not after spending ten days in Tibet and more in Xiahe, Songpan, and the like. I ask around for a private minibus, but there’s no-one to split the 800 yuan cost. Thus defeated, I reluctantly check into the Black Tent Guesthouse — the crowd in my room is young and all Chinese, although summer-vacationing Europeans make a strong showing elsewhere. I walk out again in a bad mood looking for internet down hill and downstream alongside the strong river that cuts Kangding down the middle. The walk is unsuccessful. Moreover, I’m now very much pooped. My cold is still going strong; it’s taken away my energy and left behind a body full of aches. Next door to the hostel I listlessly consume bread and water, then I arduously climb into my bunk under the covers to recuperate. Noisy conversation floats in through the window onto the porch restaurant at my feet. Just before nine, I climb down out of bed to discover I’m cold and shivering. Armed with my hiking jacket and a warm cap I set out to eat dumpling on that porch. They spend thirty minutes making them. I lose my apetite and can only force down three or four of ten. I’m cold; I’m miserable; I’m sitting in a funky swinging seat that requires constant attention — it’s not comfortable right now. Climbing into my bunk takes everything I’ve got, and then more when I have to climb back down to pull a stuff sack to rest my head on.

Now I’m feverish. My forehead burns; my face burns; my arms and legs burn; my chest burns. I pass the next long hours in an unpleasant place. Friendly roommates do a lot for my mood — one gives me medicine, another gives me dried fruit, and another makes conversation — but I’m still sure to wake up dead. I don’t have time for this. Anger. Noise and pain keep me away until near midnight.

* * *

Ah sick on the road.
Bummer!
Remember those days off on the trail?
Quietly doing almost nothing but eating?
Maybe you need a vacation from vacation for a day or two?
Hang tight!
We need to hear about all this in person some day.
— Ferdbirfel Jul 25, 04:32 PM #
I’m chilling out in Yunnan province right now. And don’t worry, I’ll swing by in early/mid September; I’ve given myself 2.5 weeks to get from JAX to NPT.
— Tom Jul 25, 10:00 PM #
Well, Tom, if you’re so intent on DYING in CHINA, I’ll never know how great your grape stomping skills are.

Chris is now telling me that we won’t need a guest bed anymore since, you know, you’ll be dead and all.

That’s ok though, we won’t put on your headstone, Died In China to the Pox. We’ll put something heroic, like….Died saving puppies from a burning building. And kittens. And baby chicks. And, oh, babies too. While your hair’s on fire. With no regard for your own safety. Yeah, that’s the ticket!
— Ling Jul 25, 11:16 PM #
I’m sure I’ll be weak cough fine.
— Tom Jul 26, 05:12 AM #

http://tom.spacing-guild.net/2006/07/25/luding-july-23

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