After Yangshuo, the pace picked up again.
It was an early start getting back to Guilin, but once on the high-speed train, everything settled into that now-familiar rhythm — smooth, fast, and effortless. Hours passed as we cut across vast stretches of countryside, through mountains and valleys, a reminder of just how much China has invested in connecting even its more remote regions.
Rail lines, motorways, tunnels carved through mountains — it’s impossible not to be impressed by the scale of it all.
And then, we arrived in Dali — a place that immediately felt different again.
Dali isn’t just another stop — it carries a history that sets it apart from much of China.
For several centuries, this region was the centre of the Kingdom of Dali, an independent state that ruled much of Yunnan. While much of China was governed by powerful dynasties like the Song, Dali remained culturally and politically distinct, influenced heavily by the Bai people and with strong Buddhist traditions.
Its relative isolation, surrounded by mountains and far from the imperial centres of power, allowed it to maintain that independence — at least until it was eventually absorbed into the Mongol Empire under Kublai Khan in the 13th century.
Even today, that sense of being slightly separate still lingers.
The Dali Ancient City is vast — far larger than expected — and remarkably intact.
The old city walls still stand, complete with imposing gates and watchtowers that once guarded the kingdom. Walking through them, you get a real sense of scale — this wasn’t just a town, it was a significant regional centre with both strategic and cultural importance.
Inside, the streets stretch out in a grid, lined with traditional Bai-style buildings, various shops, and a steady flow of visitors.
It’s busy — very much on the domestic tourist trail — but it doesn’t take much to step away from the main streets and find something quieter.
Turn a corner, wander down a side alley, and suddenly the noise fades. You’re back to slower moments — locals going about their day, small courtyards, glimpses of everyday life tucked just behind the busier facades.
Near the centre of the old town stands the Wuhua Tower.
At first glance, it feels like it should be part of the city’s defensive system — but it wasn’t.
Historically, Wuhua Tower dates back to the Nanzhao Kingdom (which preceded the Kingdom of Dali) and served more as a ceremonial and cultural structure than a military one. It was used as a place for gatherings, receptions, and entertainment — a symbol of prestige rather than protection.
What stands today is a reconstruction, but it still reflects that original purpose — positioned prominently, not for defence, but to be seen.
It’s a small detail, but it says a lot about the city: not everything here was built for war. Some of it was built simply for life, culture, and display.
Dali is full of contrasts.
Modern shops sit beside traditional homes. Tourist-heavy streets give way to quiet, almost untouched corners. Old stonework meets neon signs.
At times, it feels curated. At others, completely genuine.
But that blend is part of what makes it interesting.
It’s not frozen in time — it’s evolving — yet still holding onto enough of its past to remind you where it came from.
And like much of this journey, the more you wander, the more those layers begin to reveal themselves.