I was staying in Dali, a beautiful city located on the Western side of Lake Erhai. At one point in history Dali was an important cultural and political center, capital of the Southern kingdom of Nanzhao. In 1987, this was one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I stayed in Dali for a few days, visiting the places one must visit, cycling around the 70 mile perimeter of the lake, eating good Bai food, and meeting new friends. Many travelers talked about a place up North called Lijiang. They were saying that it was just as beautiful as Dali and even more untouched by modernity. A couple of days later I was already in Lijiang, buying pancakes at the marketplace. Within a few days the pancake buying became a routine that I faithfully performed several times a day. The reason for this was that A.) they were amazingly delicious, B.) they were sold at the center of the old city where I hung out anyway. Lijiang was the center of the autonomous region of the Naxi minority, a people who were originally Tibetan but then settled down here far from home and never went back. If I remember correctly, they even had their own writing system, independent of both the Chinese and Tibetan scripts. There were very few foreigners in Lijiang at the time. There was a small group of us who ended up walking around together. Then somebody said that he had heard about a lake farther up North which was a must-visit place. The lake was called Luhu and was closed for foreigners. This meant that nobody would sell us bus tickets and if we ran into police up there, we would be fined and turned back. Needless to say, this sounded way more exciting than visiting museums and hanging around eating pancakes. I was the only one who spoke some Chinese but nobody was discouraged by not being able to speak anyway. Plus, the people we were to meet did not speak much Chinese either. We set out early morning and walked outside the city to get a ride. We hitched a few trucks and got to the lake Luhu in two days without any problems. In the beginning, we were avoiding the police but later on, as we got deeper and deeper into the foreigners-off area, the police was less and less aware of the fact that we were not supposed to be there. They were friendly and curious, just like anybody else. Lake Luhu was truly a unique place. It was a small lake halfway in Yunnan province, halfway in Sichuan, perhaps about 20-30 miles in perimeter. If I remember correctly, the lake had 7 villages around it. The interesting thing was that every village belonged to a different ethnicity -- Tibetan, Bai, Naxi, etc. In the middle of the lake, there was a small island with a shrine on it. The shrine must have been Tibetan because there were cloth banners on the trees around it with Tibetan writings.

My companions decided to hire horses and go up into the mountains but I thought I would rather walk around the lake. So we parted and I set off walking. I got about half-way around the lake when the night caught up with me and I needed a place to stay. At times there was no road and had to walk in the water along the shore to avoid the thicket and other obstacles on the shore. Therefore by night time I was wet and hungry, not to speak of being exhausted. Not far, I noticed a few wooden houses on pillars above the water, connected with the shore by a long narrow wooden bridge. I walked over the bridge and soon a couple of people came out to greet me. They did not speak Chinese, therefore there was no other way of communicating than with signs and friendly nods, which worked just fine. I forgot to which ethnic group these people belonged but they were kind and friendly. I sat down inside of a dark room with a fire in the middle and they offered me tea. The tea was unforgettable. It was brewed in a tiny little lidless pot with some grass in it that was placed directly into the fire. A few times they poured salt into this "tea" as one would poor sugar into coffee. The result was intolerably salty and definitely did not quench my thirst. But I made a friendly face and from time to time sipped from my tiny cup as we continued to gaze into the fire. Obviously, there was no conversation between us, since there was no common language. The kids were not allowed to sit with us but were intensely watching from the background. One of them eventually gathered some courage and brought me a world map from a Chinese elementary school and showed me the stereotypical faces of the four races: Asian, Caucasian, African, and North American Indian. She was pointing at the Caucasian, showing me that I must belong to that race. It was rather strange to be identified as a German-looking white male. I guess I represented my race at that point. In the morning, I left the village and walked around the rest of the lake. I watched as the people in different villages were busy with their lives but did not stop anywhere. Walking for two days around the lake I had a slow enough look at everything. It was an experience I will never forget. Written by Imre Galambos, 2000