Another day in Dali

Another day in Dali…..granola and yogurt and fruit for breakfast and another walk around town. We were starting to be able to read between the lines in the guidebooks. Anytime you start to see terms like “tune out, take a vacation from travelling, banana pancakes, happily dawdle”, you can assume that it’s a quaint town that’s been overtaken by backpackers and there is very little to do other than sit, read books and watch people (while nursing one cup of tea) for hours.
The main drag is called Huguo Lu” or “foreigners street”. We spent time as aging backpackers, watching the scene and reading. Relaxing is not something we do very well. Finally, it was time for a beer, so we headed to Café de Jack. I headed across the street to try to get a chop (stamp) made for Mom. While I was busy trying to get “Lila” translated into Chinese and pick out a stamp, a street fight was happening on the sidewalk next to me.
Evidently some Japanese tourist had ripped off a passenger in a taxi and the taxi driver was punching him out in front of a large group of people. Half of the crowd was using sign language and we couldn’t figure out what was going on. It turns out that deaf-mutes ran the two massage parlors on either side of the chop shop. What a sight! After all the excitement, the police came by and we once again got the full account- in sign language.
Too much excitement for us, and we headed inside for another Shepherds Pie. This time, we got served one pie and waited and waited. It turned out that they ran out of potatoes and instead of letting us know, they had sent one of the staff to search other restaurants for potatoes. They truly don’t think like we do- and they hate to say “no”. .
We settled for one pie and then headed to the Tibetan Café to have a glass of wine and watch the scene. Once again, this tiny town was crowded with groups of Chinese tourists (as always, about 30 of them clumped together following a minority woman in costume carrying a yellow flag).
Notes:
The Bai minority group dominates Dali. They have a custom of the “pillow race”. The bride and groom leave their wedding ceremony for their home. Once they reach the threshold, they race to the bedroom and the one who grabs the pillow first rules the house.
John’s comment on minority people: “Hi, I’m me and you’re small and dirty with interesting clothes”.