Asia travelogue day 23: final days yunnan

Back in lijiang. We let another guesthouse tout take us to her place, and we discover our previous stay had been on the fringe of the old city. Old city is twice as big as we thought. Whoops.

Dinner at a roof top of a book cafe. Naxi style pork for me again; it’s bacon plus the crispy skin of roast pig. Other than that, it’s safe to say the food in Yunnan is mostly, well, awful.

We take a big gulp and hit up Bar Street. It is absurd. At one place, a women dressed in minority garb belts out classic karaoke hits. A slender man in a scarf takes over. An inebriated mainlander decides to crash the stage and grind against the singer. The song ends, Chinese trance emerges, and everyone rushes the center stage. Local club kids bop their heads at the dancefloor edge. Lulz says a Chinese version of ectasy has earned the nickname “<toss yer hair fun>” because the sensations compel just that action.

At around midnight the music ends. Club kids on opposite ends of the stage begin to taunt each other using… song? Sides alternate, singing in unison, mocking songs about butts, tails, noses, smells. Whatever happened to dispute resolution vís a vís
popping and locking? Somehow we manage to find our way home, over the bridges, and thru the dark backalleys.

We locally book a flight from lijiang to Kunming because fuck sleeper buses. In Kunming airport, we have our final yunnan meal, the famous over-the-bridge noodles, a set meal of noodles in a super hot chicken broth plus fix’uns. Lulz loses her shit when she sees a cockroach crawl across the table. I flip out too, but… I have not finished eating yet. I find it again, resting on a grape peel. Staring into its beady eyes, I drink my soup and realize just how far I am willing to take my compulsion to finish food on my plate. I really am a disgusting human being. Lulz deserves full merits for puttin up with me.

Back in hong kong, lulz and I both notice our skin is in ICU shape. Something about the cold dry air. Lulz looks like a 47 year old widow and I am peeling like the Last Supper. That was a joke for you art history majors.

Journey leg 3 ends.

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