论文部分内容阅读
Dali， located in the south- western Chinese province of Yunnan， is one place where it is easy to imagine an idyllic life， with the perfect mixture of tropical warmth， mountain cool， blue skies， and clear waters. Some years ago， I went there to visit friends who had gone there for Chinese language study， and they were telling me how much they enjoyed living in Dali. My friends are realistic； no place is heaven on earth， but Dali was very nice for them. The most interesting thing they described was the other expatriates who had come to Dali in pursuit of enlightenment and serenity.
Dali is associated with the utopian “Shangri-La” lost among the mountains of Yunnan. The Three Pagodas of the Chongsheng Temple are a local landmark， and the slow pace of life in the old town of Dali makes for a meditative atmosphere for writing and thinking. The local Bai people seem like the peaceful natives in some Hollywood movies who teach the blockbuster stars tautological insights made more intriguing because they are expressed in exotic languages. There is no illusion： the mountains are warmly enfolding， the trees are refreshingly green， and the pace of life is restfully slow. Dali is beautiful.
As I look at the pictures I took in the Dali Old Town， the most interesting thing in a variety of pictures is the clouds. No wonder so many hostels in Yunnan are named after clouds： the mountain winds twist and twirl the forming clouds into their final cottony plumes. The clouds above， the city below； the mountains in the distance， the rebuilt city wall and the sloping roofs of the town near—Dali preserves a unique harmony between nature and human construction. Tourists typically make a beeline for the Dali Old Town rather than the modern Chinese town of Xiaguan， just a few kilometers away.
Within the Dali Old Town， there are staff detailed to form dancing circles. Various shops and stalls sell embroidery and batik tie-dye cloths， and perhaps only the tie-dye cloths are truly unique to Yunnan. I’ve seen the embroidery all throughout southwestern China and even on sale in tourist shopping places in Beijing. Everywhere there are costume props for visitors to take pictures of themselves wearing ethnic minority dress， much of it the same in tourism sites across southwestern China. The dancing circles decrease in their enthusiasm as closing time comes. The tourism industry is well developed for Dali， but its humanity shows. One thing that surprised me about Dali was the abundance of Hui cuisine. Roast meat and hand-pulled noodles are consistent foods wherever one finds Hui restaurants in China， and combining a familiar flavor with a new environment allows for a distinct experience. Something my friends told me was that South Asian students coming to Dali to study convinced some of the local Hui restaurants to make South Asianstyle food for them. Aside from the cultural diversity within China， even out of the way cities like Dali feature cross-cultural exchange.
China is actively developing its western regions， which for so long were difficult to access because of difficult terrain. Dali’s paradisiacal climate has always been there， but now it is more accessible. The myth of Shangri-La was believable because of the difficult journey through the mountains： life is hard but if you travel far enough， you will find a place from which you never have to return. With airports and high-speed trains， Dali is reduced to one more consumable experience and it is revealed that Shangri-La was never there.
Beautiful though it is， Dali， like anywhere else， is a place. People go to work， chat with their neighbors， and get haircuts. It is of course easier to enjoy any place you visit on vacation， but that’s another thing. Dali and the surrounding regions have made agreements with each other to capitalize on the notion of Shangri-La for tourism marketing. This is smart： the Western image of Shangri-La as a mountain paradise communicates succinctly what southern Sichuan， Yunnan， and Guizhou have to offer when properly developed. However， unless travelers go to Dali for its own sake and not for an exotic spiritual experience， they will miss what Dali truly has to offer.
Dali is associated with the utopian “Shangri-La” lost among the mountains of Yunnan. The Three Pagodas of the Chongsheng Temple are a local landmark， and the slow pace of life in the old town of Dali makes for a meditative atmosphere for writing and thinking. The local Bai people seem like the peaceful natives in some Hollywood movies who teach the blockbuster stars tautological insights made more intriguing because they are expressed in exotic languages. There is no illusion： the mountains are warmly enfolding， the trees are refreshingly green， and the pace of life is restfully slow. Dali is beautiful.
As I look at the pictures I took in the Dali Old Town， the most interesting thing in a variety of pictures is the clouds. No wonder so many hostels in Yunnan are named after clouds： the mountain winds twist and twirl the forming clouds into their final cottony plumes. The clouds above， the city below； the mountains in the distance， the rebuilt city wall and the sloping roofs of the town near—Dali preserves a unique harmony between nature and human construction. Tourists typically make a beeline for the Dali Old Town rather than the modern Chinese town of Xiaguan， just a few kilometers away.
Within the Dali Old Town， there are staff detailed to form dancing circles. Various shops and stalls sell embroidery and batik tie-dye cloths， and perhaps only the tie-dye cloths are truly unique to Yunnan. I’ve seen the embroidery all throughout southwestern China and even on sale in tourist shopping places in Beijing. Everywhere there are costume props for visitors to take pictures of themselves wearing ethnic minority dress， much of it the same in tourism sites across southwestern China. The dancing circles decrease in their enthusiasm as closing time comes. The tourism industry is well developed for Dali， but its humanity shows. One thing that surprised me about Dali was the abundance of Hui cuisine. Roast meat and hand-pulled noodles are consistent foods wherever one finds Hui restaurants in China， and combining a familiar flavor with a new environment allows for a distinct experience. Something my friends told me was that South Asian students coming to Dali to study convinced some of the local Hui restaurants to make South Asianstyle food for them. Aside from the cultural diversity within China， even out of the way cities like Dali feature cross-cultural exchange.
China is actively developing its western regions， which for so long were difficult to access because of difficult terrain. Dali’s paradisiacal climate has always been there， but now it is more accessible. The myth of Shangri-La was believable because of the difficult journey through the mountains： life is hard but if you travel far enough， you will find a place from which you never have to return. With airports and high-speed trains， Dali is reduced to one more consumable experience and it is revealed that Shangri-La was never there.
Beautiful though it is， Dali， like anywhere else， is a place. People go to work， chat with their neighbors， and get haircuts. It is of course easier to enjoy any place you visit on vacation， but that’s another thing. Dali and the surrounding regions have made agreements with each other to capitalize on the notion of Shangri-La for tourism marketing. This is smart： the Western image of Shangri-La as a mountain paradise communicates succinctly what southern Sichuan， Yunnan， and Guizhou have to offer when properly developed. However， unless travelers go to Dali for its own sake and not for an exotic spiritual experience， they will miss what Dali truly has to offer.