After climbing one of the karst mountains on an electric motorcycle, a woman at the summit pulled out two beers and gestured for me to sit down. We watched the sunset over the peaks. Mostly in silence, because long conversations through translation apps lose their magic pretty quickly.
She seemed thrilled to have a foreigner to share the view with. I was thrilled to have a beer. It’s the type of experience that made me fall in love with travelling in rural Asia. The unscripted generosity, the ease of a shared moment that requires no common language, no transaction, no agenda. Just two strangers and a sunset and a Tsingtao.
The more rural the destination, the more this happens. People are curious, open, delighted by the novelty of a Westerner in a place where Westerners rarely go. In the cities, you’re another tourist to navigate around. Out here, you’re an event.