Kunming is just another metropole, yet decidedly less intense and crowded than Chengdu and, from what we’ve heard, Chongqing. We do what we are good at and sit down in a dark coffee place, waiting for our couchsurfing host, slurping black coffee as we bend over our tiny computer screens.
Julia, our host, works for a small ngo established by a German with strong ideals, but for the moment they have run out of projects. She really helps us in finding an alternative ngo that let us support them hands-on, and she comes up with a number of interesting alternatives. PEAC, an ngo that aims to abolish pesticide use in agriculture doesn’t pick up the phone. It’s a pity because they seem very promising.
We have dinner together in a crowded place with a very low ceiling. The food tastes really delicious. And then we went home. And then we did sleepy-sleepy. Okay, I know what you think, where has the spirit gone? This guy is enjoying himself in Kunming and so what? You’re right, a little more of that vibrant straight from the spinal chord writing would do good. Or at least an impressionist description of the park we visit, with lely-covered ponds and people to stroll between them. You could rent a duckwaggon to wheel and waddle your way through the winding park roads. About the diligent butterflies roaming the flowerbeds and the shining pagoda replicas crammed with merchandise. I take a picture of three women on a bench and like the composition, not the technique though. I would have loved to shoot this one with a very serious lense.