To Yangshuo We Go!

The Lesser Li River (xiao li jiang)

October 24, 2008: Surprise! Another last minute 3-day weekend. This time, our school was a host-site for China's college entrance examination and needed the classrooms to accommodate the test-takers. Friday classes were cancelled! As usual, our bags were nearly packed and ready for a last minute trip. We'd even decided in advance that if we had a last-minute holiday pop up that we'd head south to the town of Yangshuo in Guangxi Province, popular tourist spots for Chinese and foreigners alike. We were so prepared!

It seemed like a safe bet for getting train tickets: We had 3 days notice, it wasn't a national holiday, and we were heading to a common destination with many trains passing through. We were, however, insistent on purchasing sleeper tickets (there was no way we were going to repeat our last experience with the train -- a miserable 10+ hour seat-less trip home from Hong Kong). We should have known better than to think purchasing tickets would be so easy. When has anything ever been easy here! We tried multiple avenues in order to secure tickets. The next day at school, we vented our frustration a bit to our Chinese teacher friend, who hesitantly volunteered a bit of additional information. "Maybe Mr. Meng can help you," she said (as if Mr. Meng, another Junior English teacher at our school, had the magic key to all the tickets). So, down the hall we went to Mr. Meng's office. He is a tall, well-dressed (for China) English teacher who, at some point chose the English name Willard and continues to go by that name to this day. I explained our situation to Mr. Meng, and he immediately made a call on his razor cell phone. Apparently, he had "a guy" who might help get us tickets. We waited a few minutes for a return call when he finally said, "I will call you if he calls back." I had heard this before, and I didn't think we're getting any tickets. Much to my amazement, we heard back from Mr. Meng the next day and the tickets were ours!!! As it turned out, Mr. Meng's "guy" was actually the manager of the city's train station, whose son was one of Mr. Meng's students. He actually does have the magic key to all the unavailable "VIP" train tickets, and he surely must be the most popular man in town! To get our tickets, all we had to do was pick them up at the train station.

That afternoon, I went with the other English teacher to the train station to make the transaction. We met the train station manager at a side gate where only suspicious deals would seemingly take place. I owed him 300 yuan (around $45USD) for the tickets -- a premium price as there were some "fees" attached. He helped me buy return tickets as well at the VIP ticket window -- Oohlala! The "VIP" window looked like all the other windows, only it actually distributed tickets. Despite all of my fellow Chinese teachers questioning why/how I would buy a return train ticket before leaving for the trip ("This is not the Chinese way"), I did indeed buy return tickets because I darn sure wasn't relying on fate to get me home.

YAY! We had tickets! We booked a hotel online (something we can rarely do here), and we were set for a nice weekend away! Our VIP tickets were, well, less than VIP quality. The train was un-air conditioned and our beds were next to the smoking hang-out. There were many standing passengers in our cabin and the cabin lights did not turn off until after midnight. Unfortunately for us, the train arrived at our stop (Guilin, the "gateway" city for Yangshuo) at around 4 am, so we had to get most of our sleeping done earlier in the night. Of course, the standing room patrons hanging out in the sleeper cars don't ever sleep; so they talk and smoke all night to pass the time. I (Tiffany) woke up at 2 am with a terrible stomachache. Anyway, we were off the train by 4 am and on a big charter bus headed towards Yangshuo by 4:30. We waited an hour before the bus left, which was fine because we could sleep!! It was cold and rainy and the bus was playing Mr. Bean movies (with Chinese subtitles, of course). I had never really enjoyed Mr. Bean, but he was slightly comforting at 4:30 in the morning in a strange, rainy Chinese city. However, I didn't enjoy him nearly as much as the Chinese appeared to. My stomachache got worse as the bus bounced along to our final destination, stopping frequently to pick up more and more passengers with their bags of rice, baskets of produce for market, and occasionally a bag that still moved (rabbit anyone?). By the end of the bus ride, there were no seats left. People stood and squatted. New passengers brought in the wetness of the morning rain. We were so very tired and my stomach cramped. It started to smell, and Mr. Bean played on.

By 6:30 am we made it to Yangshuo, where I found the worst bathroom yet in all of China. The lights were dim or burnt out, but either way, it could easily have been mistaken for an elephant stall at a rundown zoo. But the city was amazing! Jaw-dropping, actually. The attraction in Yangshuo is the worn-away karst mountain landscape. The old mountains must have once looked like the Rockies but have been worn away over time into an endless number of unique peaks: Some rounded, some jagged, but all very unique. Still tall and overwhelming, but approachable in their old age, these peaks reminded me of staring at the clouds in a summer sky, trying to decide what image each one represented. The mountains surrounded, and even flooded the city itself. You could see the peaks in the parks and at the street ends. I felt like everywhere I went, I must have been at the epicenter of all the peaks.

Yangshuo West Street

The town itself was something of a gem as well. Now this was really East meets West . . . Nothing like Hong Kong in all it's modernity. This was really China, with everyday life continuing on it's course; But then some westerners came and couldn't bear to leave the unbelievable scenery. The foreign population of Yangshuo appeared to be mostly Australians who came for the rock climbing and just never left. There were at least 4 western restaurants in this town of 300,000 founded by Aussies. In the daytime, they would lead guided mountain climbs, and at night they supported themselves further with their unique restaurants. The vibe reminded me of Austin, only Chinese of course. We enjoyed pancakes, Shepherd's pie, and apple cobbler along the lively streets of Yangshuo with the ancient mountains peaking over the old rooftops as our backdrop. Yangshuo is the kind of place you could do everything or nothing at all and still feel fulfilled.

The other main attraction is the rivers (The Li and the Hulong Rivers) that flow through Yangshuo. The rivers run through the mountains as well, and the scenery is so beautiful that the Chinese put it on their currency twice (the 20 yuan bill and the 50 mao bill). You can ride a bamboo raft down the river to get a real, uninterrupted view. We of course planned to do just that on our first day. We'd planned to start our boat tour of the Li River in the town of Xingping, one hour north of Yangshuo.

We took a bus there from Yangshuo, and immediately upon stepping off of the bus, a frantic tour guide pulled us aside and onto a motorized rickshaw made to seat 6 or so. She spoke no English and we really weren't completely sure where she was taking us, but she was adamant that we go with her and so we went, hoping she was taking us to the river. The ensuing 10-minute rickshaw ride was bumpy and was as scary as any shopping mall parking lot amusement ride. All the motorized rickshaws seemed to be on in a race to the finish line, passing each other through potholes and along steep edges (FYI --3 wheels don't run smoothly through muddy potholes). At last, we made it to the bank of the river where we could catch a bamboo raft. It was at precisely that moment that I felt really, really sick. We asked the tour guide if we could have lunch and rest first before beginning our boat ride. Our unofficial and unwelcome "guide" seemed slightly irritated at this request, but she led us back up the dirt path a ways to the only restaurant nearby. We ordered simple Chinese dishes, rice, and a Sprite for my tummy. I should say, David ordered, while I repeatedly threw up in their "outhouse" squat toilet conveniently located between the swampy fish pond and and the stray dog hangout. The toilets didn't flush; you just grab a bucket of water to wash down your mess. Oh it was one of the least glamorous moments I've had in China. I walked back to the table and everyone knew I was sick. They were so kind. The keeper of the restaurant offered me a packet of tiny red beads - as if I knew what to do with it. She gestured to her stomach suggesting that this would make me feel better. She poured some boiled water in a cup and added the beads. I drank up as told! You know, it's funny. If somebody had played this scenario out for me while I was at home, I would have said "No, I wouldn't ever take a strange pill from a strange person." It is funny how when you are that sick you will do anything. I still have no idea what I took. I was feeling really awful. But we were here, darn it, and I wanted to go on a bamboo raft. Besides, you can almost always find a place to use the restroom or vomit in all of China; no need for formalities. So we marched on. The impatient "guide" led us back to our awaiting bamboo raft. We hopped on and for a moment I almost forgot how much pain I was feeling . . .What a view it was!! The particular spot we started our trip from is the one pictured on the 20 yuan bill. I can see why they chose this spot to put on their money, it's fabulous!

Li Jiang bamboo boat ride

A stop downstream

This particular day was cool and overcast, but no rain. The views in such a setting can often be even more stunning than on a sunny day. It was all very magical with light clouds floating around the mountain peaks and valleys. Along the river, the riverbanks were mostly barren, except for the occasional water buffalo or man and his 1 to 3 cattle. And then there were fishermen. These were not just your average fishermen, however. They were using an old local method of catching fish, Cormorant Fishing. A Cormorant is a bird. The fisherman actually ties a rope around the bird's neck so that when the bird catches a fish, the rope prevents the bird from swallowing the fish. The bird then returns to the fisherman, who basically steals the fish out of the bird's mouth. These fishermen are smart -- they leave the fishing up to the real pros, the birds. I guess it's a good deal for both parties. Occasionally the bird gets to eat some fish, plus it gets a human caretaker on the side.

Our 1st boat trip was 1 hour each way. After returning to Xingping, we then caught another boat to a small ancient fishing village (1,300 years old!) that Bill Clinton had apparently visited, a fact which the locals made sure we were aware of.

The ancient Fishing Village

Okay, so it all sounds quite inspiring, which it would have been had my stomachache dissipated over the night as I had planned. So despite the cinnamon/cardamom/and various other herbal pills I had bought at the pharmacy the night before, I was still very ill. We decided I should go to the hospital. And while I dragged my feet there, hoping I would miraculously feel better before we walked through the doors, it was inevitable that I would be forced to have my first Chinese hospital experience in a town I knew little about. Perhaps more than anything, I was angry at myself for having a box full of antibiotics and other meds in our apartment in Zhuzhou waiting for a moment like this to prove their worth (they took up precious space in our limited luggage). Of course I hadn't brought them on this trip. After all, I hadn't needed it yet in my 3 months in China, why would I need it for just a 3 day trip (Again, just 3 days!)?

The morning view from our hotel window

Luckily, being a tourist site, the hospital was actually used to foreigners and was prepared with an English-speaking Doctor. No tests, very quick - he scribbled on a Doctor's pad what he thought I needed. There were two kinds of pills and 3 IV's. They prefer IV's for giving antibiotics. I was admitted to the "foreign guest" room, where I think I found the most comfortable padded bed yet in all of China! On the way to the cushy "foreign guest" room, I walked past the Chinese IV room. What a different story it was in there! Chairs crammed together in rows with IV poles hanging from the ceilings down to each chair. Rows of people, or babies in their mother's laps, all had their arms outstretched to receive their various IV's. It looked miserable, and I felt guilty with 3 beds to myself. After a few minutes, a nurse came in to place the IV. I remembered seeing no soap in the bathroom (or anywhere else, actually) and wished she had put on gloves. At least she opened the needle in its sanitary packaging in front of me. She wore a mask that appeared to be made out of cotton balls - it didn't seem necessary or useful really, but oh well. She was pleasant enough, but spoke no English of course. She verified my name on the IV fluids by showing them to me and trusting my head nod. The name on the fluids read "Tinuaty Toe" but I nodded "Yes" anyway because I was the only person getting an IV who didn't have a name written in Chinese characters. After 4 hours I was anxious to see the daylight. I decided that my current and last IV must have just been saline. I pulled together what Chinese I could to explain to the nurse that I didn't want any more and I needed to go. She looked at me questioningly and then pulled out the IV. Then, I just got up, collected my things, and walked out of the hospital. Simple as that. I discharged myself!

Yangshuo hospital with a view

We had limited time before the sun would set so we caught a bus to another small town outside of Yangshuo called Baisha. We'd intended to bike mountain trails to Baisha along the Lesser Li River (Xiao Li Jiang), but after spending the bulk of the day in the hospital, the bus was a quick and welcome alternative. From the bus stop we walked 30 minutes to a small village along the river. Our desired destination was the Jade Dragon Bridge (Yulong Qiao). I always enjoy our walks through villages, giving us a sneak peak at daily life. I couldn't help but wonder if the locals noticed the mountains anymore, or if they had become mundane and routine to the locals, as traffic and grocery shopping does to us at home. I wondered what they would think of our Rocky Mountains. Would they find them as spectacular as we find theirs? Field work was being done, blankets knitted, and fruit dried on wooden frames in the fronts of homes and stores. The further we walked, the older the buildings were. They were made of clay bricks. There were windows, but no glass to keep the home insulated. Front doors were left open to allow children and stray dogs to run in and out as they pleased. There were minimal furnishings; consisting perhaps of a short box or chest to act as a kitchen table and some stools or short chairs. They occasionally had 2 bamboo chairs that looked terribly uncomfortable. Nothing on the walls, not even paint (but then again nothing seems to be painted here). As night came, the lights remained turned off. Children played and parents cooked completely in the dark, as if they didn't notice. Despite the homes being very basic and lacking in comfort and aesthetics, they all had a small color television. Occasionally, I saw the television on (in the dark of course) with a captivated audience. It disgusted me a little bit, how they could be so glued to really bad Chinese reality television when they live in such a beautiful spot! Yet, they can't afford to turn the lights on?! We walked on into the setting sun until we reached the bridge, which looked as ancient as it claimed to be. It arched over the narrow, calm river where bamboo rafts lined the banks awaiting travelers. At the top of the bridge we looked out over the river, fields, and peaks. The sky was a dull pink as the sun went behind the peaks. A man casually walked his cattle back home for the night while farmers carried their produce in big bundles over their backs. It was breathtaking.

Sunset near the Lesser Li River

Along the walk

That's a lot to carry!

Headed home after a hard day's work

Basic homes near the river

The next morning there were showers, which intensified the peaks' mystique. The mountains seemed even more impenatrable today than the days before. Something I find odd here in China is that there are nearly no hiking trails or paths through green spaces. Basically, if it hasn't been built on, then they haven't bothered to put a path there. People are not seemingly interested in hiking through undeveloped areas. In the States, I think there would be tons of trails through and up these mountains, but there were none in China. Our hotel's owner did show us a country road that weaved through some of the peaks as well as through farmland, villages and eventually would reach the lesser river. Ponchos on, we headed out into the rainy, foggy, mystical morning. I thought of my drives home to Houston from Waco during college. I guess "country road" means the same thing in any nation. On any given country road in Texas you can find a rundown house; it is tilted, roof caving in, windows broken, and you wonder when people lived their last? Could somebody or something still live there now? Will they fix it up or just tear it down? How long has it been there?-- Nearly every house in China conjures these same questions. Even new homes are made with old materials and chunky, unevenly distributed cement. They all have holes for windows and doors, but no glass to close the windows. Occasionaly there will be one home with glass, but judging by the windows in my apartment, they probably don't keep much out. The homes we passed had water wells out front. Many people had attached an old plastic juice bottle to the end of the pump as a spicket. I'm always amused when the past and present collide. I thought about how cold these people must be in the winter, especially the grandmothers you could see squatting by the riverside, dressed in ponchos and oversized hats, washing their produce off in in the river. This job looked cold and miserable. I wondered if the families without windows were jealous of the families with glass windows in their homes? Jealousy, happiness, and satisfaction are all relative, right?

Our bus ride back to Guilin (where the train station is located) was like any other bus ride in China; miserable. No seats left of course, so we perched on a wooden box situated directly behind the driver's seat. We sat facing sideways. A young boy sitting on his grandmothers lap, and basically in mine, was eating a small boiled duck egg. As he cracked the egg shells, they scattered all over my legs and backpack. This time the T.V. played floor shows, a popular choice in China which are basically just random people lipsyncing to local popular songs on camera (poorly I might add). Again to my distaste, adult and child alike were fixed to the screen. The bus driver drove as if he was in a car chase film. The bus and other cars passed both left and right, sometimes 3 cars across at any given moment. They cut everything close, too close. We made it just in time to catch our train home and just short of nearly going insane with bad Chinese singing and film.

The train ride home was pleasant. We had two bottom bunks, which in China means that the people on the middle and top bunks sat on our bunk to talk, eat, and drink until it was time to sleep. They noticed my stomach discomfort and gave me some ginger candy to, in their words, "Benefit the stomache." It seems Chinese people are some of the most concerned, well-meaning people. After a simple dinner of pickled animal parts, wasabi peas, and seriously strong alcohol (very small bottle, mind you) coupled with intriguing conversation and random yoga-like "excercises," our bunk mates went to bed and we all slept soundly. We made it home without a hitch and I am in fact feeling much, much better. It turns out that the doctor in theYangshuo hospital knew what he was doing! I'm happy to say my first, and hopefully last, trip to the hospital was not so terrible. What an experience to say the least!