It had been about three years since I last went to Kunming, and now here I was, about to board the plane just as I had so many times before--wondering why I still had so much baggage after trying to pack light, enduring the heat in terribly misplaced winter clothes ("just a few more hours and I'm going to be grateful for these") and realizing I had once again forgotten to bring any sweets to suck during takeoff. After the most uncomfortable airplane ride of my life--and I kid you not, I firmly believe the seats on that flight were smaller than the ones travelling back. When the standard safety videos were playing I noted cynically that the "in case of an emergency landing" position was practically impossible for everyone except children. I mean, I am average height, perhaps slightly under, and I definitely couldn't put my head down on my knees as instructed without knocking my teeth out on the seat in front. Maybe my neck's just longer than I think. But if I counted as a "taller passenger"--well. I made the right choice to turn down the meal and only had to suffer the nauseating smell of food from everywhere else, minus the taste. As a result I still had enough spirits to take an interest in the landscape below as we approached, and wondered what changes there would be since my last visit. I had heard that Kunming was developing rapidly, and I soon saw how. Almost each time I've been to Kunming it was to a different part of the city, and what a difference that made. This time we got to see the affluent side of Kunming, and it was quite the eye-opener, even for us first-world Singaporeans jaded by shopping malls. What Singapore didn't have was the land and space to develop on such a lavish scale, and that really hit me when we visited 1930, a spanking new tourist area for the wealthy which boasted its own theme park, beautiful grounds, and diverse architecture from all over the world. There was a miniature (well, not all that miniature, unless comparatively) Eiffel Tower, a postmodern version of the Arc Triomphe, cobblestone streets, fountains, and buildings built in eclectic British and European styles, with slim buttery yellow trees in scattered throughout like wispy flames. The air was pleasantly crisp. We stopped at a breathtaking cafe for lunch, and the ambience of the place rather than the menu was two thirds of the reason why. The last third was probably the fact that they served coffee. MAAN Cafe was the hipster of all hipster cafes, probably because of the sheer scale and size of it; it had three stories, including small glass-walled rooms you could rent for meetings or events. The whole place was like some eclectic Hogwarts-Beast's-Library-Starbucks mashup in the best way, giving off major library vibes at the same time as it boasted exposed wiring, rough concrete sides, plenty of wood, highly coloured dangly Oriental lamps like the sort of thing tourists gush over in Arab Street; and what had to be the best collection of comfortable vintage armchairs. There were old style library lamps on the tables, bookshelves all along the walls, with random books scattered along them (I found a bilingual War and Peace, without a doubt the thickest of all thickest books) and each table had different chairs, from Victorian high-backed armchairs with ornate molding to low, square cast iron chairs with leather cushion seats that you sank into. Heavens. I could have spent a whole day there with just unlimited tea and books, happily trying one chair after another to see which was the best like a hipster Goldilocks. Of course, the pricing was also fantastic, but thankfully as tourists we had the benefit of currency conversion on our side, so we could enjoy our coffee without feeling too much heart pangs at the bill. Another touch I loved was the army of colourful teddies on the counter. I saw two girls with a teddy on their table, and thought they had bought it, only to find out, once we placed our order, that the teddies were the equivalent of table numbers. The cashier handed us an orange teddy without an explanation and told us to take a seat. Clutching our orange teddy I went ecstatically in search of the comfiest chairs but, like a greedy child in a candy shop, kept getting distracted as I saw a nicer one each time I thought I'd decided. Wow. Talk about photo opps. If this was Singapore, I swear every blogger and social influencer, and Instagrammer, for that matter, would be here snapping furiously away. As it was, it was beautifully tranquil, with only a picturesque handful of people either working silently on their laptops or talking quietly in various cosy corners. I wandered around blissfully taking peeks at random books on the shelves and sitting on random chairs to test their plushiness. Probably looking very strange too, but then tourists have a special license to look strange. The crowning touch was the toilets--always, for Singaporeans in China, toilets are a big deal! Not only were they clean and aesthetically attractive, we were flabbergasted at the technology which allowed you to press a button and a plastic ring encasing the seat would travel round obligingly to offer you a clean length. My brother was similarly shocked to discover ice cubes in the urinals. Toilets, tick! Natural lighting, tick! Best chairs in the world, tick! Book-lover's ultimate dream hangout, tick! Dubious art work that you can forgive because everything is so eclectic already, why not? Oh, and there was wifi too. Reason enough to book your tickets yet? My other glimpse of this side of Kunming was when we went grocery shopping at Carrefour. Singapore lost its last Carrefour quite a while ago so it was a doubly exotic experience. Figuring out how to work the lockers and the token machine so I could snag a trolley took way longer than it should have, and must have severely tested the patience of the girl behind me; she gave me a gently reproachful look as I gave up, baffled, and then unexpectedly the token came rolling out just as I turned away. I think really the most fun part was hunting down Singapore products in the Import section, and reacting in delicious horror at the superb price. Mamee Noodle packets sold individually, when you could get a whole pack at the value shop downstairs back home for 1.50! The blue monster in front never looked so smug. Ayam brand canned tuna, just plain tuna chunks in brine, for the staggering price of ----!! It was a good feeling. It somehow makes you feel comfortably virtuous--like reverse retail therapy. "Oh look, I didn't buy this, so I didn't spend as much as I would have if I did!" I also saw instant noodles being sold bigtime. A whole aisle of them. The boys spent a reverent five minutes there trying to pick a few to try. I tried vainly to decipher the Chinese characters and ended up randomly picking one, hoping it wasn't super spicy or something with innards. In defiance of all those Whatsapp chain videos you get sent by anxious aunties trying to convince you that the wax from instant noodles will accumulate in your gut *suspense music* and slowly kill you. Surrounded by all those advertisements, with China's biggest stars limpidly gazing down at you, I made a discovery. After Nirvana in Fire I had started a foray into Chinese dramas, from historical to wuxia (martial arts) and xianxia (fantasy+martial arts) and even contemporary ones. These last, I proudly add that I chose largely because I hoped it would help improve my Chinese. I loved the stately poetic language of the historical ones, but let's be honest, probably the only takeaways I had were not very suitable for modern usage (eg. throwing around the royal 'we', denouncing an unfilial son etc) Modern Chinese slang was cute, too. I remember the fun I had during my AP Chinese Language and Culture classes with my teacher--a young fresh grad in Beijing--picking up Chinese slang over Skype lessons. Don't laugh, but I actually made notes while I watched these modern dramas, in conjunction with the English subtitles (hoping they were accurate) every time I picked up a useful phrase. For example, I learnt that "app" is 软件 (ruan jian) and was so pleased with myself I told my whole family. Another result of this was that I could recognize most of the celebrities on the advertisements, an accomplishment I was ridiculously proud of. Dilraba Dilmurat, Fan BingBing, Huang XiaoMing, Angelababy, Zhang Han, Liu YiFei, Zhao LiYing, and others I couldn't name but could at least squawk in recognition of. Hey, surely that indicated some improvement in Chinese culture, if not Chinese language? Let me feel good about myself, if only for a moment. continued in part 2 |
the process of appreciating life
|