Strawberries and Spiced Wine

The rest of the day in Kunming was spent meandering through the streets, searching for various sights mentioned in the Lonely Planet, and especially meeting interesting new acquaintances. The flower and bird market was far less than impressive, as was the local specialty Across the Bridge Noodles (although the legend of why they are served in such a way is quite lovely).

My favorite part of Kunming wasn’t any famous temple, museum, shopping center, or anything that would be of significance to most travelers, but has stuck out in my mind all the same. It is very common every part of China that I travel in to see women selling fruits from wicker baskets on the side of the street, and I often enjoy their delicious wares. The strawberry ladies in Kunming, however, are on a completely different level of quality. Each bright red, plump strawberry was perfectly placed in a pristine linear pyramid structure that displayed the vivid berries as perfect specimens. In alignment with the book I was reading, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, these simple strawberry vendors made me consider quality and its link to desire and enjoyment. Within the past few months, I’d noticed a pattern of myself as a consumer to purchase not based on the products themselves, but on the quality of the experience, particularly quality of service. This is not in that they served me well as a customer, but in that they exhibited to me subtly their passion and appreciation for their craft. The strawberry ladies took an extra step to create intense beauty with their wares, and it certainly earned them at least one redheaded customer.

Another significant occurrence in Kunming was my pleasant experience at Nordica, a gallery and café owned by a Chinese woman and her Swedish best friend. I perused the exhibition and was immediately enthused when I saw glogg (a Swedish hot spiced wine beverage that I was exposed to at a multicultural roommate extravaganza) on the sparse menu. I sipped on a small cup or two while chatting with the owner’s husband. Luckily, despite our language limitations, we were still able to discuss my travel plans, and he gave me a piece of advice that led me to one of my favorite locations of the month. He enthusiastically informed me that a good friend of his, Li, a literary scholar, owned a guesthouse in a small town called Jianshui (建水) and would love to have me stay with him. After knowing me for a mere 10 or so minutes, he called up his friend, and informed him that I would be coming, and to take care of “his good friend 爱美.”

I returned to my hostel in the evening, enjoyed the aforementioned strawberries with a new traveler friend, and went to sleep in Room 301A, Bed 3, ripe with anticipation for my next day’s travel to Yuanyang—home of the most picturesque rice terraces in all of China.