Kunming-Dali Express
After half an hour of glances, the salesman climbed into his top bunk opposite my own. His name was Albert. I pressed him for his Chinese name, but he said I would forget it and that his English name was easier to remember.
I apologize for the lack of updates. It's been a week since I've left Kunming, and deep in the heart of Yunnan ('Clouds of the South'), the Internet connection hasn't been great. Since then? So many things — so many great and small moments to tell. I'm in the Sangri-La province (part of the Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture) right now, about 3,500 meters above sea level opposite of the Snow Mountains. It's an otherworldly and totally spiritual high. But more to come on that. For now, let's rewind to the exit out of Kunming.
The Kunming - Dali Express crept out of the station at 10:14 pm. I didn't hear the whistle, but I did feel the slight jolt as the wheels scraped against the tracks. A Chinese salesman (I never learned what he sold) in his twenties sat on the bottom bunk. He glanced, at first perfunctorily, then periodically at Blowingbubbles. She and YuppieNomad sat cross-legged on their bottom bunks, chirping, while I with my saltines left my feet hanging from the top bunk. After half an hour of glances, the salesman climbed into his top bunk opposite my own.
His name was Albert. I pressed him for his Chinese name, but he said I would forget it and that his English name was easier to remember. He was right.
"Where are you from?" Albert said.
"Your country is big and beautiful," I said.
"I studied Nutrition and Food Sciences at university," Albert said.
"I love Sichuan food," I said.
"I'm from Hunan and I live in Shanghai now," Albert said.
"Aren't dumplings great?" I said.
"Finding work in China is tough," Albert said.
Dark blanketed the compartment as the curfew sounded. I tossed the LP English-Chinese guide into my pack and said good night to Albert. I swung my head down to finish a bedtime story for YuppieNomad started by Blowingbubbles (involving a runaway chicken), plugged myself to the twangs of Iron & Wine, and tugged on the blankets.
The murmurs of the night wind as it whipped across the windows finally lulled me to sleep. Eleven-forty pm. The train glided on, through Chuxiong, over the Red River, and into the gray-blue drizzled dawn of Dali City.