Thursday, November 25, 2010

Driven to desparation in Kunming

After an early morning flight from Vientiane, Laos, to Kunming, China, we spent the day exploring the city of Kunming on our own. At the beginning of the trip we were with a guide. On our own, the city was a whole different place - lots to explore, but lots of language barriers.

We set out on foot from our hotel on the southeast side of the city, walked through downtown and what's left of the Muslim Quarter, where we bought some kebabs and fresh pita from a street vendor. The kebabs were insanely spicy. I could just tolerate the heat, but Dale just had some pita for lunch.

We wandered through the Bird and Flower Market (and the back-street puppy sellers), and ended up at Green Lake on the northwest side of town. In the winter, Green Lake is the southern home of thousands and thousands of Siberian Gulls. Lots of locals go to the park to feed them. They're small, beautiful birds, quite different from our big seagulls.

At sunset, the birds all disappeared, as did the people. We were about 4 miles from the hotel and very hungry. We wandered a bit more looking for a restaurant, but everything we saw was either dress-code upscale or would require some Mandarin language skills which we lacked. We decided to catch a taxi back to our hotel area.

We showed the taxi driver the card from our hotel and he squinted at it for a while. This was the second time this had happened. Earlier at the airport, the taxi driver also seemed confused about the hotel's location and had to ask others. It was odd; the hotel was on one of the 8 major roads in town, and the address was written clearly in English. It was also written in Chinese characters which we couldn't read.

The driver nodded that he knew where to take us, and off we went. It should have been a 5-10 minute ride. Soon it became clear that the driver did not know where the hotel was. We headed west, then turned around and headed east, then south past the hotel by at least a mile, then north again. We crossed the street that our hotel was on at least twice, and try to gesture that he should turn there. He stopped a few times and used a mapping app on his phone. He tried to drop us off at a middle school on a back street. Eventually he made a phone call, perhaps to the number listed on the hotel's card. We drove some more in what seemed like a big circle, he pulled the taxi to the curb, and pointed at a building a block a way which was not our hotel.

But fortunately, we knew we were only a block or two from our hotel at this point. We hopped out, paid him the $5 fare so as not to delay our dinner any further, and walked back to our hotel. The taxi ride had taken 45-50 minutes.

By now, businesses in our hotel area were starting to close for the night. We wandered around, looking for a restaurant where we could either point at the food or a picture of the food, or with some English on the menu, or with someone who seemed willing to help us. No luck. Finally, we rounded the corner and spotted a familiar sight: the golden arches.

Yes, we had dinner at McDonald's.

The person at the counter pulled out a picture menu, and we pointed at a double cheeseburger and fries. The burgers were just what you'd expect at any McDonald's. The fries were horrid, cold, and flavorless.

We went back to our hotel with full stomachs and a good story to tell, even if it wasn't the wonderful local cuisine we'd hoped for.

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