First, in honor of the 51st anniversary of the People's Republic ("National Day"), the governor of Yunnan invited all the foreign experts in the province to a banquet at the the 5-star Marriott Hotel. We were very excited about the prospect of a fabulous dinner, but the weird thing was, it was as if the Marriott had imported its chefs from the United States. Although the menu did include some of Yunnan's more exotic mushrooms, it otherwise resembled mediocre Chinese food in America. The beverages were more satisfying. Local red wine--maybe not prize-wining, but certainly not bad--flowed throughout the evening. Along with that there was fresh watermelon juice, orange juice, and cucumber juice. But not a cup tea all evening!

This banquet was a great opportunity to meet other western teachers in Yunnan, and let me tell you, this ended up inspiring much gratitude on our part. First of all, there are a lot of really peculiar foreigners here, about half of whom are secretly missionaries. What a relief that the six of us at Southwest Forestry College (SWFC) like each other so much. Sitting at our table was one couple who were so annoying that I would have been plotting their demise within the first week had we been neighbors. Secondly, we heard woeful tales of other waibans (foreign affair offices). I have no complaints about ours--they are unfailingly pleasant, helpful, and patient . They follow through with what they promise. But this is apparently not the norm at all.

I had the luck to sit beside an older American man who was in Kunming with his second, much younger Dutch wife and two daughters. I am always interested in people who take up nutsy and difficult endeavors such as learning Chinese later in life. This guy began Chinese even later than I did--very inspiring. He is getting a MA in linguistics and gave me some useful pointers about the special obstacles the Chinese face in mastering English pronunciation. From him, I also learned a source of imported olive oil and Italian cheeses. So, despite the idiots at the other side of the table, I had a great time.

In the van that transported the SWFC crowd to and from the Marriott, we foreign teachers compared notes on our classes. I wondered aloud why my speaking class seemed to be the only mixed-grade class in the entire college, and why the students have to wear special badges which I have been instructed to check carefully. Michael, who has much better Chinese skills than I do, said, "It's because those students had to pay an extra 300 yuan to take your class and they don't want anyone sneaking in. Didn't you see the signs up around campus? It's their chance to study with a master teacher from the United States." As hilarious as this is, it does explain some other things. 300 yuan is a lot of money. A full class of 30 pays my salary for the semester. No wonder the waiban has been so willing to pay for our internet connection fee and a new, more expensive bike for me. I'm their cash cow!

The next morning, John and I took off for Lijiang. For those of you who are contemplating visiting Yunnan, let me say that Lonely Planet's account of the transportation situation is seriously outdated. We had a Volvo bus, as good as any in Europe and better than most in the U.S. The road was mostly excellent and we spent eight hours driving through the most attractive landscape we've ever seen in China. The rice harvest was under way. In some fields, cut stalks were neatly gathered into teepee shapes with a knot twisted on top. The unharvested rice was an undulating mass of golden green. We passed countless villages with great garlands of yellow corn and red peppers drying in the sun. Cosmos, marigolds, and morning glories grew wild, blanketing hillsides.

Competing with this scenery for our attention was a series of videos on the bus. Half of the programs were Hong Kong films with subtitles and the other half consisted of Hollywood's most dismal rejects. Imagine being the only westerners on the bus and having YOUR country's culture represented by "George of the Jungle." It made me want to pretend I was Canadian.

Following a severe earthquake in 1996, UNESCO declared Lijiang a World Cultural Heritage Site for its traditional architecture. Interestingly, the old mud & straw brick houses and their tiled roofs survived the quake much better than did more modern buildings. Consequently, many of the residential buildings constructed since then are in the traditional style.

Lijiang felt a little like Colonial Williamsburg or Sturbridge Village, although it is an authentic city with ordinary people living in the houses. There are quaint winding cobblestone streets, albeit with a host of restaurants and souvenir shops, and hordes of local Naxi women in traditional costume. This costume is predominantly royal blue. The notable feature is is a back covering that straps over the shoulders which is oddly Native American in design. There are seven embroidered discs (representing stars) from which strands of leather fringe dangle. Covering the hips is a goatskin with the fur facing in and the white tanned hide facing out. A bizarro little hat composed of multiple layers of cloth completes the outfit. Any footwear, including pseudo-Nikes, is acceptable. And that's just the Naxi, the dominant ethnic group in Lijiang. Of Yunnan's 26 ethnic minorities, I can only identify four by costume, but we saw many different minority people in Lijiang.

We stayed in a small guesthouse built in the traditional Naxi style. The owner, age 55, had been born in it and proudly told me it was more than 100 years old. Big pots of tuberous begonias lined the courtyard; red peppers festooned the walls. The owners didn't speak English at all and their son spoke just enough to communicate the availability of rooms and price. Consequently, during the time we stayed there, I became their booking agent for western travelers. It was nice to be useful in translating the details about shower condition (hot), sink situation (communal, open-air, cold water), and toilet (just one--squat). Because it rained almost consequently during our visit, I was grateful to have interesting hosts to talk with.

One thing I have always admired about China's approach to foreign tourism is its inflexibility. Seriously, I respect China for maintaining its own quirky customs about hotel key deposits, floor attendants and the wonderful tradition of thermoses of hot water waiting by your door each morning. I admired China for not becoming one more stop on the banana-pancake-seeking-backpacker trail through Asia. However, in Lijiang, there are more than a dozen cafes serving pizza with varying degrees of authenticity, hamburgers, and even veggie burgers (nothing like you get in the west). I will confess we did have pizza twice, but ate our other meals in traditional Chinese restaurants with Chinese tourists. We saw many, many more western tourists in three days in Lijiang than we have during all our time in Kunming.

In the 6+ weeks we've been in China, I haven't missed the United States once. But in Lijiang, I found myself strangely homesick for Kunming. Here in Kunming, I am a resident, not a tourist. People here still try to sell me things, but they're peddling cabbage heads, not Naxi trinkets. Here the vendors know me and I recognize my students on the street. I feel as if I belong (even if not everyone else necessarily shares that sentiment).

We ended up coming home early since the rainy weather did not make the prospect of biking through the countryside very appealing. We did not get to Tiger Leaping Gorge, which is *always* prone to landslides, never mind during a week of endless rain. I know some of you reading this would have hiked through the gorge in the mud and rain, but I am a city girl who only does nature in nice weather. End of discussion.