I arrived in Dali on a bus from Lijiang, watching the landscape change as we rolled past rice fields and small villages. The first glimpse of Erhai Lake took my breath away — a huge stretch of silver-blue water, with mountains guarding it on both sides. I knew right then that this wasn’t going to be a trip about rushing.
Dali Old Town has a rhythm that’s impossible to resist. The streets are wide enough for people to stroll without bumping into each other, lined with whitewashed Bai-style houses with black-tiled roofs. Some had bright flowers tumbling over their walls, others had tiny shops selling tie-dye cloth, silver jewelry, and warm bowls of “crossing-the-bridge” noodles. I found a small café with seats right by the street and spent the better part of a morning just watching people go by — locals carrying baskets, cyclists with fresh vegetables strapped to the back, travelers like me who kept stopping to take “just one more” photo.
One day, I rented a bike and cycled along the shores of Erhai Lake. The wind carried the scent of water and wildflowers, and every few minutes, I felt the need to stop and take it all in. Fishing boats rocked gently near tiny harbors, and farmers worked in green fields that seemed to roll right into the water. Somewhere along the way, I met a friendly old man selling grilled fish. I bought one, sat by the lake, and it was probably the best lunch I had on the whole trip.
The Three Pagodas were another highlight — ancient, elegant, and standing tall against the backdrop of the Cangshan Mountains. Climbing the steps, I could feel the weight of history here, the same stones worn by centuries of footsteps. From the top, the view stretched across the lake, the town, and into the distance, where the mountains met the sky.
Evenings in Dali were cool and calm. The old town lit up gently, without the neon overload of bigger cities. Street musicians played soft tunes, shop owners chatted with friends outside their doors, and I felt like time had forgotten to hurry here.
When I left, I realized Dali had quietly worked its magic on me. It’s not a place you “check off” a list — it’s a place you live in, even if only for a few days, and carry with you long after you’ve gone.
