Pioneering New Opportunities in China: Dali Torch Festival - Emerging Adventurers

      07/19/2025 - 07/19/2025

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      Mei Ling and I had differing views on Butterfly Spring. My sources indicated that the park was a must-see, and I was eager to experience something beyond the numerous reconstructed "ancient" towns. Mei Ling had a hunch that it might be more of a tourist trap. I had gone along with most of her plans, so she agreed to let our driver make a stop there while returning to Dali from Shuanglang. Butterfly Spring has been renowned for centuries as a butterfly gathering place, but the park surrounding it only became a tourist attraction in the 1980s. It’s situated in a scenic rural area not far from the main road encircling Erhai Lake. Upon entering, we had a lengthy walk along a bumpy cobblestone path to reach the spring. Along the way, we passed clusters of slender Chinese cedar trees, some crafted into Zen-like gardens. At the path's end, we found an outdoor pavilion where performers dressed in traditional Bai attire showcased a dance or ceremony. It felt somewhat inauthentic. From the pavilion, we glimpsed a pond turned deep green by rampant algae growth. An observation deck at the pond's edge featured a peculiar sculpture representing the tale of two forbidden lovers. When a jealous chieftain tried to force the woman to marry him, the lovers leaped into the spring and transformed into butterflies. The two tree trunks represent the lovers, with butterflies perched on top — one still emerging from its cocoon. A brightly colored blue rowboat, tied to a short dock, served as a resting place for a group of scraggly cormorants. Since we had a tight schedule with our driver, we only made a quick visit to the butterfly conservatory. The kids found it somewhat entertaining as the butterflies readily landed on their hands and clothes. It was much smaller than other conservatories we had visited in Costa Rica and the U.S., and I noticed a few dead butterflies on the ground, hoping they had died a natural death. Mei Ling's initial skepticism about Butterfly Spring proved correct, but we had only spent a little over an hour there. Our driver then encouraged us to visit his hometown, Zhouchengcun, just south of the park. He claimed the town hosted a superior torch festival compared to Dali and had a market as well. Zhouchengcun was smaller than the previous towns we had explored, with its old neighborhood consisting of a single street marked by a dilapidated wooden pailou. The market in Zhouchengcun was rather dull, possibly due to the late hour. We could tell the town was prepping for some sort of celebration, with bundles of torches scattered around and a tall pyre in the main square, yet no one seemed to know when the festivities would commence. Most residents were engaged in their daily routines, except for some young boys throwing little bang snaps at one another. We considered staying until dark but ultimately opted to return to Dali, hoping something would be happening upon our arrival.

      I had discovered the Dali torch festival while researching Yunnan, knowing it could be the highlight of our summer, especially for the kids. Most sources indicated that the festival occurred on the twenty-fifth day of the sixth lunar month annually, which in 2025 meant it would be on June 20th. I had planned our entire Yunnan itinerary to coincide with this date, but conflicting information left me a bit anxious. Our driver dropped us off outside Cheng’en Gate on the south side of old Dali, where we encountered large crowds gathered at the pailou marking one of the busiest commercial streets.

      It soon became evident that we were in the right place at precisely the right time. A thick stream of people flowed up the street toward the mountains. Vendors were offering torches made of bundled tree bark, and Mei Ling purchased two, leaving me uncertain of their purpose. I had presumed the torch festival would feature trained performers, with us and other locals merely watching, but it appeared everyone would be encouraged to join in. Contrary to my expectations that the torchbearers would mostly be young men, there were likely more women than men, along with many older individuals and children.

      The street sloped gently upward, a bit steeper toward the end, allowing us to gaze down at the expanding crowd behind us. At the street's conclusion, a plaza filled with food carts awaited, leading to an even larger square atop the hill packed with people. We could see a tall pyre already ablaze, though the flames reached only the top level. The sound of drones buzzing overhead was constant. At this point, we realized Cleo was missing, having lost her near the stairs, and we were surrounded by those who had come up behind us. Although this made me uneasy, I trusted

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