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

      07/19/2025 - 07/19/2025

      View Asia 2025 on zzlangerhans's travel map. Mei Ling and I had different views about Butterfly Spring. My information indicated that the park was a must-see, and I wanted to experience something unique instead of the usual reconstructed "ancient" towns. Mei Ling, however, thought it might just be a tourist trap. Since I had gone along with most of her plans, she agreed to let our driver stop there on our return to Dali from Shuanglang. Butterfly Spring has been renowned for centuries as a butterfly gathering spot, but the surrounding park was only developed into a tourist attraction in the 1980s. The park is situated in a scenic rural area not far from the main road encircling Erhai Lake. From the entrance, we had quite a long journey along a rough cobblestone path to reach the spring. Along the way, we saw groves of slender Chinese cedar trees, some designed into Zen-inspired gardens. At the path's end, there was an outdoor pavilion where performers in traditional Bai attire were engaged in some form of dance or ceremony. It didn't feel very genuine. From the pavilion, we could see a pond thick with algae, giving it a deep green hue. There was an observation deck at the pond's edge featuring an odd sculpture that represented a legend about two star-crossed lovers. When a jealous chieftain tried to force the woman to marry him, the couple leaped into the spring and transformed into butterflies. The two tree trunks depict the lovers, with butterflies perched on top, one still emerging from its cocoon. A bright blue rowboat was secured to a short dock, serving as a resting place for a group of shabby cormorants. Our driver was on a tight schedule, so we quickly visited the butterfly conservatory. The kids found it amusing since the butterflies were unreserved in landing on their hands and clothes. The enclosure was significantly smaller than others we had explored in Costa Rica and the United States. There were a few dead butterflies on the ground, and I hoped they had met a natural end. Unsurprisingly, Mei Ling was right about Butterfly Spring, but we had only spent a little over an hour there. Our driver persuaded us to stop in his hometown of Zhouchengcun, located just south of the park. He claimed they had a better torch festival than Dali and assured us there was a market. The town was smaller than either of the previous ones we had visited, with the old neighborhood consisting of a single street marked by a rickety wooden pailou. Zhouchengcun's market lacked vibrancy, perhaps due to the late hour. We noticed the town was preparing for some sort of celebration, with bundles of torches scattered around and a tall pyre in the main square, but no one seemed to know when the festivities would begin. Most townsfolk continued their daily routines, aside from some young boys throwing little bang snaps at each other. We considered waiting until dark but ultimately decided it would be wiser to return to Dali, hoping something would already be taking place when we arrived.

      I had discovered the Dali torch festival during my research on Yunnan, and I knew it had the potential to be the highlight of our summer, especially for the kids. Most sources stated that the festival occurred on the twenty-fifth day of the sixth lunar month each year, which fell on June twentieth in 2025. I had structured our entire Yunnan itinerary to be in Dali on that date, but conflicting information made me anxious. Our driver dropped us off outside Cheng’en Gate on the southern side of Dali's ancient town, where we saw massive crowds gathered at the pailou that marked the entrance to one of the busiest commercial streets.

      It soon became evident that we were in the right place at the perfect time. A dense flow of people was moving up the street toward the mountains. Vendors were selling torches made of bundles of tree bark, and Mei Ling bought two, although I was unsure of their use. I had expected the torch festival to feature trained performers with spectators, including tourists and locals, but it appeared that everyone had the chance to participate actively. I anticipated the torchbearers would mainly be young men, but there were likely more women, as well as many older people and children.

      The street gently sloped upward, and as it steepened toward the end, we could look back and see a growing river of people behind us. At the street's end was a plaza filled with food carts, leading to a larger hilltop square crowded with people. We could see a tall pyre at the center that was already ablaze, although the flames were confined to the top level. The sound of drones buzzing overhead was constant. At this moment, we realized we had lost Cleo somewhere around the stairs,

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