“Oh, you’re going to Lijiang? Did you hear about the couple who committed suicide?” the taxi driver in Kunming had asked.
[Content warning, obv: This post will focus on the romantic side of Lijiang – but that includes a tradition of love-suicide.]
Lijiang is one of the places in China that lead to very different opinions.
Some people celebrate it and see nothing but beauty. Others shun it as nothing but a Potemkin village for tourists.
It may be cliché, but the truth is probably in the middle.
If you want to travel for more than just a superficial visit, it pays to pay closer attention, to learn more about the place you are visiting.
It may leave you with less obvious conclusions about it than you would otherwise have had, going just by however you felt about it. But at least, you won’t have traveled with just a climate change impact.
You will have done some #microexploration, learned more, come out of it a bit different.
Lijiang as a tourist place is very much a set piece. Its much-visited old town is actually quite new; it had to be restored after a fire. The cobblestone streets with water channels running beside them are full of hotels, hostels, restaurants, and souvenir shops.
The Naxi culture that Lijiang is a center of is both being preserved here, and being invented.
The Draw of Love-Suicide
A particularly interesting example of tourist draw and cultural peculiarity lies with the tradition of love-suicide.
We, a colleague of mine and I, had just arrived in Kunming and taken a taxi, mentioned where we would be going on this trip, when we encountered the influence.
“Have you heard of the lovers who jumped off Yulongxueshan [Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, the ‘house mountain’ of Lijiang] to their deaths?,” the driver had asked.
The way people tend to have heard about it, it is a romantic notion.
Lovers who were forbidden from marriage, rather than acquiesce to their family’s wishes, would make a bond to jointly go into the afterlife, hoping to be together that way, at least.
Lijiang Is For Lovers?
With that romanticism has come an idea that Lijiang is for lovers.
Not necessarily those lovers who are happily married or engaged, but rather those who are looking for a little something.
What happens in Lijiang stays in Lijiang. Even without suicide. That sort of idea…
A closer look, as usual, provides a much deeper awareness of the things that are happening. And much less clarity.
There is a lot of exoticising of ethnically “other” women happening here.
It happens, not even in a “yellow fever”-way (of Western men chasing after Asian women for some “reasons” that are really stereotypes, of how feminine and sweet they are, etc.), but in an almost traditionally (Han-)Chinese way.
Ethnic minority women have often been seen and portrayed (by the Han majority of people) as less civilized, wilder – and where that makes minority men potentially seen as more of a danger, it makes women seen as more natural, more in tune with their sexuality.
Love-suicides did happen. They were probably less romantic, but possibly a form of protest against the loss of local autonomy and the arrival of patriarchal systems.
(Ethnic minorities in this area of Yunnan did famously have more egalitarian societies, and they went all the way to the – at least, supposedly – matriarchal society of the Mosuo peoples at Lugu lake.)
With all the murder-suicides “out of love” seen in the world, which are more of a continuation of male domestic violence and frustrated sexuality, it bears pointing out: These love-suicides were initiated by the women.
As these things go, the historical circumstances and “dangerous” contexts don’t matter much anymore, nowadays.
Only the feeling of something different, but romantic, remains and is being upheld – and commercialized.
For decades, Lijiang has occupied a distinctive place in popular imagination; and among tourist destinations it is thought of as a place with spiritual forces and healing power.Chunmei Du
Lijiang tourism differs from the usual Chinese tourist places
that focus on programs consisting of visiting famous sites, taking pictures, and souvenir shopping. It instead presents an alternative model for simple relaxation and lifestyle change.
The Surface Beauty
As a tourist-visitor who isn’t immersed in Chinese stories, you may never hear about this background. And Lijiang will still not only look touristy, but also beautiful. It is.
The old town is rebuilt and often overrun by tourists – but it is pretty.
The paths through it are winding and confusing. With the waterways often running alongside them, you’d better be careful where you walk. Don’t get distracted and stumble into a ditch!
Only a slope is missing, a mountain right above, and it would look a lot like ‘my’ Austrian Hallstatt.
Look closer, and you may notice that some of those waterways’ edges are being used for a little bit of vegetable growing. (Of course, given my interests, I would notice. You can read more about this side of Lijiang here.)
Lijiang does have its “village mountain” . Or even mountains:
Yulong Xueshan and Black Dragon Pool
Off in the distance, often hidden in clouds, lies Yulongxueshan, “Jade Dragon Snow Mountain.”
It is, far enough though it may be, considered a guardian and guide of Lijiang (maybe because of its meaning to Naxi culture in general).
From the Black Dragon Pool at the edge of Lijiang’s old town, it is particularly beautiful to see, when it can be seen from there. Often enough, clouds hide the mountain from view.
The path between the old town and this park goes along a rushing, burbling creek. A little up and down, the path sees schoolchildren skip to classes, tourist visitors looking for photo spots, locals going to and from the market.
The side of Black Dragon Pool, one can climb up the mountain there (or come down from a little morning run, as I did). The climb is not far, but it is on steep stairs. And reaching above 2000 m in altitude at the top, it is exhausting enough.
The wide views over Lijiang and the surroundings are worth it, though. They make it obvious what a small part of this town the Old Town actually is – but also, in all the usual construction all around, how nice the area is.
Mountains around beckon. The hills in Lijiang – standing on top, they feel like hills – are forested. Birds flit about. Okay, there may also be some modern communications towers up there, but that’s just modern life.
The Lion hill with its Wangu tower , open only during daytime and requiring an entrance ticket, is much easier to get to; it forms the northern side of the old town.
It is an interesting mixture of reactions and views, as lots of people climb up the small steep paths leading there, but not so many people want to pay and get in.
Consequently, it is nice and calming to stroll around the park inside, climb up the tower for the view it offers of Lijiang new and old – and think about one’s enjoyment of such a place, perhaps.
Expectations and Realities
If you go to a place like Lijiang expecting some untouched romantic home of an unspoiled ethnic minority culture that somehow was just waiting for you alone, well, then it’s your own darn fault.
Expect tourism and take things leisurely – as a tourist yourself, after all – and Lijiang is pretty. Or probably, given the amount of bars, exciting if that’s how you decide to play it.
Chunmei Du, “The Love-Suicide Mystique of Naxi: Experiential Tourism and Existential Authenticity.” Frontiers of History in China 2015, 10(3): 486–512