There was no DJ around to save my life, when I was navigating a muddy and traffic-less road punctuated by a hundred landslides. I was walking towards a village 25km away with Xiaohuohuo 小火火, the bright little Brompton with a flat tire. Swerving the muddy puddles on a bright sunny morning, I was singing at the top of my voice out of sheer exhilaration. Despite being somewhat stuck in the absolute middle of nowhere, I did not have a care in the world. I had my tent with me, and enough water and mooncakes to last me a day or so. Where else would I rather be? I couldn’t possibly be happier than right there and right then. Walking on a remote and winding road in the jungle of central Yunnan, singing mooncake songs.
The art of Kunming
A few days earlier I had arrived in Kunming. I spent a few days catching up with friends, revisiting old haunts and soaking up the southern sun.
I also explored what Covid, economic downturn and other depressing factors had left of the local art scene. A visit to a beautiful artist in residency by Fuxian Lake with my old KISS buddies Luofei and Sean. Spirits were high, despite current challenging circumstances. Kunming still felt lively and lovely, with excellent weather and a slower pace of life. I had been craving this – the pace and scale are so different in big city Beijing.
Mojiang mojo
After a couple of lovely Kunming days I hop on the train to Mojiang, a town known for its Tropic of Cancer park combined with a strangely high incidence of twin births. This anomaly warrants an annual Twins Festival, with twins from all over the world attending. Outside festival time it’s a sleepy city, smack bang in the middle of Yunnan. I explore the Tropic of Cancer park, which includes – in a tribute to sun-aligned civilizations – a small replica of Stonehenge.
There is nothing else to do so I wander into a tea shop and make friends with Yao Mi, who runs the shop next to my hotel. The next morning, the kind hotel owner gives me a handful of mooncakes before he waves me goodbye. Happy Mid Autumn Full Moon festival!
Muddy meandering
From here, a remote road runs in the general direction of Dali, following the long parallel ridges of the river valleys that are flowing out of the Himalayas and into China. The three larger rivers are well known – Mekong, Yangtze, Irrawaddy – but I follow a smaller tributary. I aim for the Chuanhe river, but before I reach its banks I will explore a small road taking me into forested wilderness for a couple of days.
The first day starts easy enough. Tarmac, little shops, not much traffic apart from some huge roadwork trucks. These should have set alarm bells ringing but they don’t – I’m just happy to be on the road. Until I finally run into a roadblock with a guard who gestures me to turn around. No way through! Well… the first rule of Cycle Club is We Don’t Turn Back. I boldly stride past the guard, wriggle my way around a huge excavator monster machine and find myself on a delightfully deserted road. This is great, but also a bit worrying, as it means I’ll have to save myself if anything happens.
I start to cycle again. Mud, landslides and silence. It’s beautifully sunny and I’m super happy to be in the wild. Until I get a flat and everything is too covered in mud to work it out. So I walk along the muddy road, I sing, perfectly confident that something will present itself to resolve the situation. I have my tent with me, enough mooncakes and water to last me a day and in the very worst case scenario I can walk the 25km to the next small town.
Providence finally appears, in the form of a baffled family who pick up this strange laowai 老外 with her folding bike. I continue the trip sitting in the back with the grandparents. The road gets worse. Much worse. The driver proves himself to be an expert rally champion, swerving mud pools the size of a small pool and saving us from a slow slippery slide into the ravine next to the road.
They drop me off in a village with a motorbike repair shop and I sit down to fix my first flat, to great hilarity and encouragement of the owners.
Soon, I’m on the muddy road again. I reach my destination for the day and check into a small truckstop hotel with a stupendous view of the cloudy valley below. The owner invites me to their family dinner and after a hot shower I’m out like a light. What a fantastic day of adventure. I feel especially good because my body and mind feel so capable – a great confirmation of good health after the recent hospital visits.
The next day is wonderful, even if I get another flat and have to do another stint of hitchhiking, in the crowded van of a market salesman. I meet lovely people in the small villages – many have never seen a foreigner before. I chat with them when I buy snacks and answer countless questions. No, I’m not from Henan 河南 (province)，I’m from He Lan 荷兰, the Netherlands. Yes, I’m alone. No, I’m not afraid. I don’t have children but I have a very nice cat. One girl runs away and returns with her cat – he has blue eyes, like me.
Out of the wild
Finally, I reach a larger road, with excellent tarmac. I cruise leisurely into Zhenyuan, a small regional city. I check into a fancy hotel and after initial panic at the reception (a foreigner! Eek!) I head into town for an excellent meal and conversation at a tea table with the owners and some friends. One of Yunnan’s great attraction is the food, and I’m not disappointed. I’m traveling through areas that are a patchwork of minority communities and sample Hani, Yi, Hui and other cuisines.
After Zhenyuan the jungle ends. I follow the Chuanhe river along a beautiful gently meandering road and the valley widens, making space for farmland. This means that the shade of trees abruptly disappears and I’m cycling in broad sunlight. Stupidly enough I forgot to bring sunscreen and my legs get terribly sunburnt. I cannot continue to cycle and in Jingdong I decide to send my bike back to Kunming, and continue by bus. First to Weishan and then to my final destination Dali.
The wonders of Weishan
I knew about Weishan from when I lived in Kunming and, later, close-by Dali. It was once the capital of the Nanzhao kingdom, flourishing some 12 centuries ago. The Nanzhou kings aggressively expanded and even attacked Chengdu, until they went into inevitable decline and the Dali Kingdom superceded.
Today, it is a sleepy autonomous Hui and Yi minority county that boasts a beautifully preserved old city centre with restored city gates at either end of the pedestrian main street. There is also a new branch of Librairie Avantgarde – a sensitively restored courtyard with a fabulous bookshop and cafe inside.
Compared to touristy Dali, this place is heaven. There are no hordes, no-one is aggressively selling tat and there are no loudspeakers blasting advertising slogans into the non-existent crowds. I sit down in a tea house, enjoy a gaiwan of tea and watch the Weishan world slowly go by. The owner brings me a slice of freshly baked fluffy rice cake. When I get up to leave and ask for the check I am shocked – 2 hours of tea drinking and chatting with the other tea house patrons has set me back 5 kuai – about 75 euro cent. Why didn’t I visit this gem of a place earlier?
Destination Dali
One more jump and I’m back in my old home of Dali. I rent an ebike for a couple of days and cruise around my old neighbourhood – an action radius of about 25km. I escape the mad crowds of Dali Old Town and roam from Xizhou in the north to a few villages south of Dali old town. Wonderful encounters with friends – an endless tea session with fellow Brabo Bommie, admiring the finished courtyard of my friends Alicia and Ale, an exhibition of my friend Gabor in a newly established artist in residency. I ride by my old courtyard in Heyang 鹤阳 and touch the wall. Still feels like home, still connected.
I came here to attend the housewarming party of my friend Chang and it’s the perfect end to a short but rich and varied trip. Surrounded by old and new friends. Endings and new beginnings. Yunnan is in my blood and in my dreams and I will be back. With a mooncake in my pocket, for good luck.
