I saw a friend's Facebook status the other day, and it went like this: 

"Two friends, one lives in Beijing, the other lives in Lijiang. One works like a dog climbing the corporate ladder. Makes a hundred thousand a year, but can't afford a house. Takes the bus to work, breathing car exhaust. 

The other is a freelance photographer with no fixed income, lives in a courtyard house by the lake, sleeps until noon, and drinks tea in the sunshine while watching clouds float by snow-capped mountains. The former thinks the latter has no ambition. The latter thinks the former doesn't know how to enjoy life."

Which one would I rather be?

I think I'm beginning to move from the former to the latter. Slowly.

Especially now that I'm in Lijiang, I fully intend to do some tea drinking and sunbathing and cloud watching.

Lijiang is the reason I came to Yunnan.

I saw it in a movie ten years ago, and have wanted to visit ever since. It's love at first sight. The old town of Lijiang is 800 years old, and it takes you back in time the moment you walk in.

Red lanterns, willow trees, bluestone streets, narrow and winding lanes, 350 little bridges, wood houses, lush gardens, green ponds, brilliant gold fish. The atmosphere is intoxicating. Everywhere you look is a picture perfect scene for an ancient love story. It amazes me that so much visual interest and architectural variety can be neatly crammed into just 900 acres of land. It's like a Black Forest cake. You slice it open and then discover how many layers of flavor are hidden inside. I felt like I didn't have enough eyes to take it all in. Every corner you turn, you discover something new that tickles your interest. It's a town you walk away from and miss right away.

In addition to this entire sensory overload, there's something very sensual and poetic about Lijiang.

I think it's the presence of water that lends it that feeling. Water is the spirit and soul of the old town. Lijiang, literally means "beautiful waterway". Some people call it Oriental Venice. It used to be the "palace" of the local ruler, who must have hired an excellent irrigation engineer, with the skills and brilliance way ahead of his time. I'll explain in a bit.

Downtown Lijiang is called Si Fang Jie (Four Square Street). It's a square shaped open space, paved with stone, connecting four major streets in different directions. Then in a spider web formation, smaller lanes radiate from the four main streets, reaching every corner of town. The main water source from Black Dragon Pool divides into hundreds of little streams running in parallel with these stone lanes, reaching every household.

In each house, there are three pools that the water flows through. The top pool is used for drinking and cooking, the middle pool for cleaning fruits and vegetables, and the third pool, the bottom pool, is used for washing clothes. See what I mean by excellent irrigation engineer? Such efficient use of water all designed from 800 years ago.

Streets are paved with local bluestone, which are neither muddy in the rainy season nor dusty in the dry season. At night the sluice at the center is opened and the resulting water current flushes the town to keep it clean.

Houses are made of timber and tiles, mostly two stories tall with a courtyard garden and engraved figures of people and animals on windows and doors, perfect environment for sipping afternoon tea and watching the clouds float by. (No wonder that freelance photographer never wanted to leave.)

The old town is quaint, intriguing, and mysterious. It's ancient scientific wisdom married charmingly with ethnic minority multiculturalism. I could spend all day piling on all of my favourite words to describe her, yet it doesn't even begin to illustrate how in awe and in love I am with it all. When standing in her presence, in her eternal embrace of charm and beauty and grace, I feel some ancient, famous love story must have happened here.

How could you not want to fall in love here? The air itself smells like sweet romance.

Unfortunately, the only story I've heard about the place has nothing to do with love. It's about why the old town doesn't have a city wall.

Not to despair, young travelers make up for it with modern reenactments of Romeo and Juliet, or more commonly known as - "what happens in Lijiang stays in Lijiang".

At night, the town is so well-known for intimate encounters that some pubs have it advertised on a carved wooden board hung proudly outside the door, and some tourists would walk into the pub and order an "intimate encounter" like a dish on the menu.

To which the hostess would politely respond with a smile, "Gentlemen, please follow me to the bar, where you'll be most strategically positioned for meeting ladies that walk in. And ... good luck!"

I also had my little share of "intimate encounters" in Lijiang.

Well, not exactly.

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Our tour guide gives us the whole afternoon to ourselves to explore the old town. The new friends I've made on the tour bus wanted to try the local specialty – roasted black goat, which I admit, does sound exotic and appetizing. But I wanted to spend every minute in Lijiang Old Town soaking it up, so I politely declined this most delicious offer to join them.

I wandered through the octagonal maze, snapping pictures everywhere like a good tourist. On a busy lane not far from Si Fang Jie, is a bunch of brightly lit, delicious-looking food stands, side by side, making lime green steamed buns, chow miens, and grilled tofu pockets. I ordered a bowl of steaming noodles with pork, soy sauce, vinegar, sesame and chili oil, and sat down on the crowded wooden bench.

As I was slowly slurping away, watching people walk by, a guy from across the table starts talking to me, "Hey beautiful, are you traveling alone?"

I look up to find a man in his twenties. Pale skin. Not the best looking guy I've seen but not repulsive either. He proceeds to tell me his name is Han, and that he's on a road trip with a group of friends from Chengdu - the capital of the neighboring province SiChuan. One of the girls in his group chimes in, "He's nice and single!" I chuckled shyly. Han politely invited me to join them at the local pub later that night, which I gladly accepted.

After the sun sets, Lijiang slips on her favourite party dress and dangling strings of red lanterns, all seductive and alluring. The town is lit up from under. If you look at it from afar, it's layers upon layers of golden pagoda style rooftops, jade trees, and huge waterwheels pumping "lifeblood" into the city that is 800 years young. Young people from all around the world roam the ancient streets, looking for people they've yet to meet, and stories they've yet to tell.

The pub lane is where the action is at, half bluestone, half water canal. Two-story timber and tile pub houses stand on either side of the waterway, lined by willow trees, connected by little bridges that date as far back as the Ming dynasty.

The pubs have really interesting names, One Meter of Sunshine, Peach Blossom Island, Back Lane Number 5, Green Bird, to name a few. Each one has got its windows and doors wide open. Some are blasting Chinese pop music; others have live bands, bellydancers, or in-house singers performing. Pretty boys and girls in vibrant ethnic minority costumes stand outside to pull tourists in to get the night started. (Ethnic minorities to China are like Native Indians to Canada). It is quite a different experience being pulled into every pub as opposed to being made to wait in line outside like we do in Vancouver. The whole town is throbbing with excitement.

I was to meet Han and his friends at a pub called Sakura Kim. A boy warmly greeted me at the door. Seeing that I arrived alone, he pulled me in and sat me down at a table with a man. The man is very good looking, like Korean movie star good looking. I explain I'm here to meet some friends. The waiter doesn't listen, he cracks open a beer for me and insists that I sit there for a while.

I figure the man must have ordered the "intimate encounter" special. With Canadian maple syrup on the side.

Feeling awkward, I got up and went back outside to call Han. He came to get me. When I got to his table, it was just him and another guy. "Where did the whole group of people go?" I asked him. It was only 11 and the pub was starting to look empty. "They went back to the hotel," he said.

'Hmm...this isn't quite what I had in mind.' I thought to myself, 'Is this where they get the girl drunk and take her to bed?'

On stage, the talk show host was starting a live auction game. They first auctioned off a glass of cocktail called the Sakura Kim Special. The next item up for auction was a comic book entitled How to Pick Up a Girl in Three Seconds, written by the pub owner on the infamous bar scene in Lijiang.

"You definitely don't need that book," I joke to Han.

"I could write one!" he nods confidently, "But you need to read it".

I was thinking, 'why would I need to read it? I would much prefer How to Get a Guy to Ask for Your Number in Three Seconds.'

He doesn't wait for me to respond, and starts bidding.

100...

200...

300...

I have to admit, there's something very sexy about a man bidding for a woman. Even if I didn't care for the book itself, it's the gesture. He's fighting with other people for this "prized possession", demonstrating his generosity, beating all other bidders, and finally getting the book at ten times the original price. During the whole bidding process, he didn't look at me once. When the waitress brought the book, he gestured to me, and said coolly, "It's for the lady." The whole place clapped.

No one has ever done that for me before. I know he was doing it to impress me, but I can't say that I wasn't impressed. Let's just say I giggled a little (or a lot) inside. I felt like the prettiest girl in the room. If my ego had legs, it probably would've gone on stage and pranced around with a victory sign.

After the auction, we played drinking games for a while. The bar was closing. Han offered to take me back to the hotel. I thanked him for the beautiful evening and politely declined the offer. He insisted. I refused again. He insisted again. I refused again. After half an hour going back and forth, I finally gave in, and said, "Okay, you can take me back to the hotel, but you're not coming in."

We took a cab together. I offered the driver fare for the round trip so Han could go home, which Han took to be hugely offensive. We get off, then walk through the meandering paths of the Chinese garden under the soft moonlight. Han held my hand in his. Part of me was feeling sad the romantic evening is coming to an end, and wondering what if... what if I had another day here, another moment, another life... would there be a beautiful ever after? The other part, recovered from the influence of alcohol, is pushing me to turn around to bid him good night and store Han on the shelf of the past that will remain forever unexplored. As I'm about to act on the clearer and better part of my thinking, I notice something was awry.

The gate was closed...

When I pushed on it, it was locked.

Are you kidding me?

I was staying at these really cute traditional Chinese houses in a sprawling garden. Each house had its own 24-hour butler, (or so I thought), who carried the key to the gate. I must have pressed the doorbell 20 times, called the tour guide, buzzed the hotel switchboard, asked the security guard, but no one could reach my butler, who apparently is the one and only person with the key to my gate.

It was two in the morning. I was locked out.

Are you friggin' kidding me?