I write this from the Camelia Youth Hostel, located in the heart of Kunming, Yunan Province, China. I’ve been here for just over 28 hours, and shortly my friends Jocelyn and Lisa and I will be catching a train for Dali, a reputed backpackers paradise (banana pancakes and Bob Marlet\y tunes, here we come!).
This is my first time in Kunming, and my first time back in China in almost five years. Some things are identifiable almost immediately: the smells of burning coal, the hazy dust of a sunshine afternoon, the thrilling joyride that is crossing an intersection amidst bicycles, scooters, cars and trucks, the leveling tension of the locals giving you the “foreigner stare,” or the bureaucrats and passport takers at the local airport (I was given the third degree about my “purpose” in China, and my passport taken to an unseen office before I was given the go-ahead to enter. No doubt I am listed on some computer somewhere, ready to punched up the moment something suspicious takes place.)
But this is Kunming, Yunan Province, southwest China, which has a different flavor from the rest of the country. I’m sure I’ll get more of a taste of it in the days ahead, but even in the short day I’ve been here, I’ve noticed the differences. People here are lighter, calmer, more mild than the ones in other parts of China. And then there are the little nuggets: the alleyways that spin off over tiny canals, the cypress trees and brilliant purple flowers, the hip night promenades with lights blazing, and knock-off items labelled affectionately “Garmani,” the Muslim quarter and its dishes with questionable titles and impeccable tastes, the friendliness of most of the locals as they drive you or serve or simply watch you with bemused smiles on their faces. This is the China I remember, the one that always attracts me to this place, the one that helps me make it through the tough times, like when I’m given the stone face and the “stupid foreigner” look when I try to get directions from someone in my broken Chinese. Lisa and Jocelyn seem to have taken to the place, and today we hit the local temples, including the Bamboo Temple, with its overwhelming array of realistic stone sculptures, monks and Buddhas and sinners all, surfing down the walls, the Western Hills, which towers over Dian Qi Lake and a host of new condos and highways, and even a minority culture museum which served as a good overview of the dizzying number of minority tribes that call Yunnan home. Hopefully we’ll see some in the days ahead. I’ve also had the chance to partake of some of the local delicacies, such as “herb-infused chicken” and “across-the-bridge” noodles, all of which have been excellent.
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Even with all the positives, it’ll be nice to get out of the big city over the next few days. Tonight it’s an overnight train to Dali (8 hours), my first such trip since I made the 17-hour ride from Beijing to Shanghai 11 years ago. We’ll see how much has changed. So tune in next time, wherein I’ll relate what being in a backpackers’ paradise really means, and detail the experience of riding a bicycle in China once again (The Bicycle Diaries?).
