100% humidity, seemingly permanent mist all over. Coming from the
highway Guilin rises in the mist with a battery of modern newly built
towers (and some more in the making), probably part of the new
urbanisation plan trumpeted as a pillar of the Chinese
"new normal".
But Guilin and its district are small countryside places, less than a million
inhabitants, far from the hectic and glittering east coast, simple provincial agglomerates where
butchers at the market sell cats, dogs and rats for human consumption (and do
not like curious foreigners taking stupid pictures). By the same token, it would not come as a surprise that one may want to carry their
ducks with them on the scooter on the motorway.
Real small is Ping An, village on the side of a mountain in the
Guilin district, halfway between last century and touristic boom.
Streets are made of steps, so supplies must be carried on horseback, but
for the fridges and more sophisticated goods, human
porters are more adequate, explained Danny Ling, proud restaurant
owner, passionate photographer, member of the Chuong minority.
Water, loads of. And rice plants, everywhere, which cannot be treated or harvested by machines and are still done the old fashioned way. And women who cut their hair only once in life, when they are 18, but keep the hair they cut and bind it together with the rest. And the new Chinese middle class, enjoying their fairytale holiday spot - in groups of hundreds.
