“China’s development has progressed at such a fast pace that we have lost the joy of living,” says Xie Ke, a Chongqing native and designer who fell in love with the mountain city of Dali in Yunnan province more than 20 years ago. “It’s conventional wisdom to work hard when we’re young and enjoy the fruits of our labour when we’re old. Many Chinese, however, are starting to ask, ‘Why can’t I enjoy the present too?’”

Dali’s subtropical highland climate, nature and languid pace of life are some of the reasons why this city, flanked by the crystalline Erhai lake and lush Cangshan mountains, has long captivated Chinese city dwellers in search of an oasis. According to a recent report by the Dali Bai Autonomous Prefecture People’s Government, the number of migrants from elsewhere in the country reached 407,000 in 2025, up by 49 per cent from the year before. Burnt out by the grind of the city, “996” culture (working from 9.00 to 21.00, six days a week) and high costs, many Chinese professionals are finding refuge in this ancient city 1,900 metres above sea level. An increasing number of young people – typically from middle-class families – are dropping out of the rat race, choosing instead to tang ping (“lie flat”) here.

Dali’s inclusivity and open-mindedness are a beacon for big-city escapees. Not only is it within the country’s most ethnically diverse province – home to 25 officially recognised minority groups – but it also offers a kind of urban life far removed from the established rules in places such as Shanghai or Beijing. As the old Chinese saying goes, “The mountains are high and the emperor is far away.” Dali’s remoteness has allowed an independent spirit to thrive. Its relaxed vibe and sun-soaked lifestyle have drawn comparisons to the Golden State and resulted in a slightly cringe-inducing portmanteau: Dalifornia.

The space to breathe that the city offers was why Xie moved here in 2004 after quitting his job as an interior designer. “When you’re not hemmed in by tall buildings and crowded streets, the environment can impact you in big ways,” he says. “In Chongqing, I was busy every day but didn’t know what I was busy with. I was just trying to survive and began to dislike that more and more.” Visits to Dali allowed him to pause and take stock. He would stay in small hostels and guesthouses that were founded and managed by owners who didn’t hesitate to get their hands dirty. “They were industrious and the care in everything that they did really inspired me,” he says. “This is real living, where you put your heart and soul into all that you do.”

In 2006, Xie returned to Chongqing with fresh vigour but Dali had left such a deep impression that he decided to build a second home in the city’s Shan Shui Jian neighbourhood. The entrance of his four-storey residence leads to a flight of steps to the basement – a small gesture that resonates with his design philosophy of slowing the tempo to allow people to appreciate often overlooked aspects of modern life. His home, inspired by Dali’s naturalistic setting and rural Chinese architecture, has set the tone for a growing number of hospitality projects, including Qing Shan 49, a seven-room retreat, and Qing Shan Hot Spring, a thermal hideaway in a historic courtyard.

Wealth-focused city life was what pushed chef Xu Kai to move to Dali and open his restaurant, Trout. After stints at Eleven Madison Park in New York and The French Laundry in California, he worked at a fine-dining restaurant in Shenzhen for a year before deciding to make a change. “There were few opportunities to be in nature and experience the local culture,” he says. “Plus, half of my salary would go to rent.”

He left his job in 2022 and went on a motorcycle road trip around China before hanging up his helmet in Dali. What attracted him was the variety of local produce – one of the reasons why a fresh cohort of chefs and café owners has set up shop here. “Yunnan has the best ingredients because of the seasonality, quality and diversity,” he says. In recent years, coffee grown in Pu’er, China’s tea capital, has also gained considerable international interest, as has fine Yunnan wine. The region’s multiculturalism – with culinary traditions coexisting side by side – means endless gastronomic discovery. At his restaurant, Trout, Xu partners with local farmers and producers to pick the best ingredients, from sour honey made in the province’s rainforests and foraged mushrooms to cured ham from Jianchuan county and catfish from the Mekong. “All of the ingredients, wine, furniture and crockery at Trout are from Yunnan,” he says of his hyper-local, eco-conscious approach that is quickly catching on across the city.

Furniture designer Shun Li Li (who goes by Dengzhou) turns leftover timber and scrap metal into sculptural pieces. She moved here from Wenshan in 2008 to attend university and never left. She tells Monocle that it’s the tight-knit creative community that has kept her rooted here. “We do many things as one, from crafting to cooking and hiking,” she says. This has resulted in a cross-pollination of ideas and inspired Shun’s foray into textile weaving. Now she is keen to give back to the community; she will soon open a homeware and lifestyle shop selling the works of other local artisans and designers.

Foreign investment and mass tourism are also driving change in the area. In nearby Xizhou, an ancient town known for its grand courtyards and bustling markets, popular chains such as bubble tea kiosk Heytea, coffee brand Luckin and ice-cream shop Mixue have established a presence in a small neighbourhood. Rents have unsurprisingly inched up, though prices are still nowhere near what you would pay in China’s biggest cities. The rent for a fully furnished three-bedroom apartment in Dali’s old town will set you back about CN¥5,000 (€644) a month, while central Shanghai apartments typically cost at least 40 per cent more.

Brian Linden, an American entrepreneur who has lived in Dali for more than two decades, is a little concerned about its popularity and the creep of gentrification. “I love China and appreciate the new energy of this new Dali but I also feel that existing social structures have been impacted,” he says. He is intimately familiar with Xizhou’s development: in 2008, he spent $1m (€880,000) to painstakingly preserve a traditional Bai courtyard gatehouse and transform it into the Linden Centre, a hotel with a focus on cross-cultural exchange. “Because new migrants, including people like my family, often come to Dali with more financial resources and different social traditions, we tend to pick and choose our lifestyles and neighbours rather than immerse ourselves in the local way of life,” he says.

But efforts are being made to help newcomers integrate into the fabric of Dali life. Wang Yiyang, the Dali-based founder of fashion label Zuczug, has partnered with the Linden Centre to bring his employees and designers on immersion trips, on which they explore collaboration opportunities with Yunnan’s rural craftspeople. Yujiang Mou, the centre’s CEO and a Dali native, lists the many positive things that have resulted from the recent changes that the city has undergone. “When foreigners come here, locals learn from them how to run better businesses,” he says. “This has given them fresh perspectives.”

The growth in population and visitor numbers also means that younger generations now have compelling reasons to remain in Dali and start their own ventures. Mou is especially excited about the city’s future. “I see many opportunities for young people here – for those who explore the world, equip themselves with the right skills and then return home to start their own practice or enterprise,” he says. “Dali’s independent spirit will only continue to grow.”

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