I was absolutely determined that at some point in my travels, I would wind up on a beautiful white sand beach. After reading Lonely Planet, and checking some travel forums, I settled on Hainan Island, and more specifically, on the beaches of Sanya, the resort destination of China.
I flew in on a Saturday morning from Guangzhou. I had reserved a room at Lama International hostel because they advertised free airport pickup. They had not responded to my email giving my flight details, but I was still hopeful that I'd be met at the airport. Nope. No one there for me. I took the shuttle into the Dadong Bay area of Sanya and managed with a little trial and error to find the hostel. Ick. It was a dump of a building in a residential neighborhood blocks from the beach, devoid of charm or other tourists. Not exactly what I was hoping for. I was tired from searching out the hostel, so I decided to stay one night, and find something better for the next two nights. I told the guy, who was completely unapologetic about failing to get me at the airport, that I'd like to only pay for one night. This is when he piled on the last straw. I had already paid a 30 yuan deposit on my room. He said that he would only apply 10 per night, so I would lose out on the other 20 if I didn't stay there for the entire reservation. That's when I told him to piss off and that I would be arranging other accommodations.
I set off with backpack in place in search of Blue Sky International Hostel, LP's number one pick for Sanya. I had wanted to avoid it, 'cause the #1 pick for LP is typically also the number one party spot in a town. I wanted to veg on the beach, not be up all night drinking. I found the hostel, a block from the beach, in another unappealing building, but right in the center of things with loads of other tourists in residence. I booked myself a single room with ensuite bathroom and a balcony and counted my blessings. My 30y deposit over at the other hostel was well lost. I have definitely learned my lesson about booking through hostelworld.com in China. Don't do it. Call and book your room over the phone. Every hostel gives free local calls, so calling is never a problem. If you go through hostel world, 1/2 the places will inflate their prices so that your deposit turns into a booking fee, and the other 1/2 are not places you would choose to stay in after getting a look at the facilities. Either way, the money from your deposit is a loss.
After doing a quick unpacking job, I threw on my bathing suit and raced off to the beach. Pure luxury. Floating peacefully on my back looking up at the sky, listening to the sound of happy people. It was heaven. All of the stress washed off into the ocean. I did get a jolt when a Russian lady ran into me when we were both floating on our backs. We screamed simultaneously, then I started laughing and apologized, though she ran into me. No response. I had a nice refresher course in Russian etiquette. By laughing and smiling, I revealed my imbecilic tendencies and social inferiority. I need to work back up to my blanket glare of disdain with which to greet strangers.
I swam in the lovely turquoise water and walked along the beach. Then, after a shower and dinner at the hostel, I went shopping. Pearls are incredibly cheap in Southeast Asia, and I felt an urge to buy some. Then, it was cat toys, then snacks at the Food Festival market, then ice cream made on the street from fresh fruit. Replete, I headed back to my room, flipped on the air conditioner and drifted off to sleep.
In the morning, before breakfast, I went down to the beach for a swim. That is the life. Being able to stumble out of bed, into a bathing suit, and into the water on a tropical beach - priceless. After breakfast, I had an early siesta with a book, then set out on my rented bicycle to explore a bit of the island. After riding for 3 minutes, I realized that the gears on the bike were not going to shift. The derailer or some other part of the bike was broken and so the gear was stuck on the smallest front sprocket, meaning that with me pedaling as fast as I could, I was going maybe two mph. Great. I went back to the hostel and one of the workers manually moved the chain up to a larger sprocket. OK. There are no real hills, so as long as I was in a good cruising gear, a one-speed bike was fine. Then, about 15 minutes away from the hostel, the chain slipped backed to the smaller sprocket. Argh! It took me 25 minutes to get back to the hostel, where I requested, and received a refund. Very annoying.
Luckily, something to assuage my irritation was coming up next. Scuba diving! Yes, I've told many people that I had no desire to dive, that my shark phobia was too intense and that I could live without diving. Well, there are shark nets up in Sanya. There were many other people out in the water at the same time, making the chances of me being chosen as a snack exceedingly slim. So, I decided, why not?
At the diving center, I found out that this would be an assisted dive. After I got into my wetsuit, I was told that: 1) OK sign means I'm fine; 2) thumb down means I want to go deeper; 3) thumb up means I want to go up; 4) pointing to my ear means that my ears hurt; and 5) pointing to my stomach means that my stomach hurts. That was it. I've seen beginner diving classes before, and they were much more intense, and boring than that. What the hell, it's China, and I had a basic idea of what I would need to do. The guy strapped my tanks on, led me into the water and then floated me out to a coral bed. Then, we dove.
We went down about 6 feet to start with. We swam around a bit, looking at coral and fish while I got my bearings and got used to breathing through my regulator. I also needed to learn how to equalize the pressure in my ears. Finally, I was comfortable, and we decended to a little over 10 feet under water. It was amazing. Looking up to see the surface so far away. The water was absolutely clear and I was able to see the color of the reef and the fish and the anemones and the sea bed. Unfortunately, the guy with me kept trying to guide my hand to touch the coral. Not good. In Sanya, they try to increase the demand for scuba diving by advertising that you are allowed to touch the coral. This kills the coral and is not something that divers are ever supposed to do. I finally got through to him that I did not want to touch the coral, but did agree to touch a sea anemone and was enthusiastic about trying to catch a fish. After 5 minutes or so, I was swimming around on my own, and swam right into a school of yellow and black zebra striped fish, each about 5" long and 4" high. It was one of the most amazing moments of my life. I definitely want to do that again, as soon as I get over my shark fear.
Finally, my 45 minutes was up, and we headed back in. It was so cool, the guy actually towed me in to shore. However, I noticed that all of the Chinese women were brought to the lowest step, where all of their gear was removed. I was left to clamber up to the top of the stairs and actually had to call out to get my guy to come take my tanks. Of course, those same ladies spent their time in the water effectively snorkeling, rather than diving. They were on the surface the whole time. I'm not sure why they didn't just snorkel, but we all had fun doing what we felt comfortable with, so that's what matters.
I was so jazzed up after having finally dived for the first time that I decided to rent a scooter when I got back to the hostel and head out around the island. I should have known by the way that the bicycle had (not) been maintained that this was not the best idea. The hostel has two scooters. One was broken and not available, the second was brought out and the hostel guy took it on a little test drive to make sure that it was working OK. Well, there was a problem. A half an hour later, I was no longer waiting patiently. I asked if there was anywhere else that I could rent a motorbike or scooter. Nope! I sincerely doubt that this was true, but was so fed up that I decided to toss the plan and go to the hot springs instead.
Nantian Hot Springs is the must-do spot on Hainan. It's a huge complex of hot springs at a resort on the south side of the island. Tickets cost around 180 y and cover entrance to the springs, a locker, towels, and sandals. There are numerous pools of different temperature in different settings, as well as a children's play center, pools of various liquids (milk, coffee, etc.), an infinity pool with a basketball hoop and a fish therapy pond. The fish therapy pond is definitely the highlight. It is so so amazing. Tiny silvery fish come and eat your softened dead skin. It's a little disturbing when you see dozens flock to you, and it made me recommit to a better exfoliation program, but it's an amazing feeling to be nibbled alive. Mostly, it just tickles, and it's hard to stay still. The bigger fish though seem to actually have teeth, and they hurt a tiny bit, just like a very delicate pin prick. They are fairly easy to shoo away. I can see why they call it therapy. I found it to be extremely relaxing.
After the hot springs, I took a cab back to Dadonghai and splurged on the fancy Italian restaurant, Roma. What a fantastic decision that was. Roma's restaurant is in a rooftop rotunda with candlelight and fainting couches with silk pillows. I had a 3 course meal while lounging at my leisure. It was fantastic. The best food I'd had since the Wenshu monastery in Chengdu. I paid Western prices, but since it was as good as or better than Italian food that I can get in San Francisco, I considered it to be well worth the price.
That night, Typhoon Francisco hit Hainan. I woke up to pouring rain. So much for my plan of a morning on the beach and an afternoon on a motorbike. I hung around the hostel with the other housebound travelers until there was a break in the rain around 2. Then, I caught the double decker bus out to Yalong Bay to see how the other half live. Sanya is divided into three sections: the city, Dadong beach, and Yalong beach. Dadonghai, where I stayed is the more economical and had more tourist services at lower prices. It has supermarkets, shops, restaurants, vendors, etc. It also has filth, burning garbage, rabid rats (a guy at the hostel a month before I got there was bitten and needed rabies shots), bugs and lizards. Yalong Bay has the same gorgeous beach, but no shops or restaurants other than the ones provided inside the Hilton, Sheraton, etc., and it is spotlessly, beautifully clean. In the future, I'd go in the off season when they give deep discounts and I'd stay in Yalong Bay.
Walking along the beach in the wind from the typhoon was exhilarating. There is not much in the way of waves in Hainan, but this was as big as I'd seen them. The wind tugged my hair and blew in my eyes. There were very few other people, and those that were out looked just as happy as I felt. I had to turn back when I hit a restricted military zone, but kept walking in the other direction. Finally, I'd had enough and decided to catch the bus in the other direction and head up to Tianya-Haijiao Tourist Zone, also known as the end of the earth. This is a park complex that is the southernmost part of China. I was expecting a cliff, and instead found an extensive topiary park complex surrounding a nice stretch of beach, charging a 65 y admission price. It was nice, but not quite what I was hoping for. After walking around for a bit, the wind had really started to pick up. I headed back out to the carpark to catch a bus. This started one of my odder interactions during my trip.
I checked a few buses and none were going to Dadonghai (hai means bay by the way). I stood around at a loss for a second until I noticed someone watching me. On the beach at Yalong, I'd exchanged grins with a fellow surf watcher who was clearly enjoying the typhoon as much as I was. Then I left to get the bus, and only vaguely noticed when he got on the bus, too. It seemed normal that he was also going to the end of the earth. After all, it is one of the few things to do in Sanya. However, I did notice that he didn't go inside when we arrived. I thought it was a little odd, but supposed that like me, he was disappointed by what it was, and unlike me, was too wise to waste his money on it. Then, he was waiting when I came out of the exit. Hmm. I started to wonder if it was possible that he'd followed me. Surely not. Then, it started to sprinkle. He brought me an umbrella. He didn't try to chat me up, just insisted that I use his umbrella and stood quietly about 3 feet from me, far enough to be outside of my personal space. Interesting. After a minute, he asked where I was going. I told him. After another minute, I asked where he was going. He laughed and after a pause, said that he also was going to Dadonghai. Then, he proceeded to find us a bus. He took care of all of the travel arrangements and still didn't try to interact with me. He seemed content to just be near me. Then we got to Dadonhai. I said thanks, and that this was my stop. He said that he was going further and goodbye. That was it. He didn't try to go for a drink or even ask my name. A very very strange incident.
That night, the typhoon really hit. The door to my balcony banged and whistled and whined all night. I slept with earplugs not to drown out the sounds of the storm. In the morning, it was still going strong. I was a little concerned for my flight. It was at 2pm, and I wasn't sure if I was nervous that it wouldn't take off and my plans would be delayed, or that it would take off and we would crash and die. Conundrum.
Either way, I packed up, checked out, and recovered my deposit, with difficulty. Keeping deposits seems to be a sideline for the hostel. A woman checking out after me not only didn't receive her deposit back, but was being charged an additional 100 yuan for a stained sheet. I'm not sure how much dry cleaning costs in Sanya, but I doubt that it is 150 yuan.
Well, I lucked out. The storm blew itself out by 11pm and my 2 o'clock flight was only slightly delayed. We actually left by 3:30, which was amazing considering the pandemonium at the airport. Some morning flights weren't rescheduled to leave for 7-8 hours and the airport was packed with angry, frustrated travellers. Not quite the end most people want for their vacation in paradise. Personally, I strapped in, declined my snack of dried shredded squid and settled back with my book for the flight back to Guangzhou. I had a lovely time in Sanya and would love to go back to stay at an actual hotel, with actual amenities. I was reaching the end of my hostelling limit. Read my next post to find out when and why I do get to the end of my tether regarding filth and discomfort.
To see the photos from this part of my trip, see: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/christine7world/Sanya
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Guangzhou, or Canton that was
When I was still in Chengdu, I had a dilemma. I had reached the end of my definite itinerary. I knew that I wanted to go to Hainan (island in the South China Sea) at some point, but my time until then was unaccounted for. I wanted to do the horse trek to Songpan, but it was pouring rain and I'm not thrilled by the idea of riding a horse in the rain. Chafing. I thought about taking a 3 Gorges cruise. However, my experience on the train from Moscow to Beijing showed me that I am not temperamentally well suited to sitting in place for days on end watching beautiful scenery go past. Maybe it'd be fun with a friend, but by myself, I foresaw much boredom and gnashing of teeth. I could hop over to Shanghai for a few days, but it was all the way across the country, and thus not a very efficient route from Chengdu to Hainan.
I sat up poring over Lonely Planet, looking for anything that sounded interesting. That's when I read about Guangzhou; Canton, as it was called for hundreds of years of British domination. Founding site of a wonderful culinary tradition, and location of infamous market in puppies and kitties for the pot. It sounded perfect! Nice colonial background to provide some interesting architecture. Some good temples, and the infamous Qingping market. I decided to spend 3 nights there and was curious as to why no other backpackers seemed to be mentioning Guangzhou in their itineraries.
Let me tell you something about Lonely Planet. The number one backpacker complaint about LP is that they are enthusiastic about everything. They will never come out and say, "the place is a dud, skip it." The dustiest small town will be described with only a fraction less enthusiasm than the Great Wall of China. I fell victim to this phenomena despite being on the watch for it.
Guangzhou is a city. It's a fairly standard city with no major tourist sites. It does have Shamian Island, granted as a permanent foreigner enclave/trading post following the First Opium War. The island is full of beautiful European style buildings that are decaying in a visually appealing way. It is also the number one location for American couples adopting Chinese babies, due to the presence of a US Consulate specializing in adoption. That was not mentioned in LP.
When I arrived and found out just what Guangzhou has to offer, I was a little doubtful as to the wisdom of my choice of destination. However, after a little thought, I realized that I was all touristed out, and wouldn't mind some downtime. Also, I'm an urban dweller. I actually like cities. I like watching people in cities. I like to wander around and find out how things work. Guangzhou might be more of a transit hub than a tourist destination, but it worked for me.
I spent most of my time on Shamian Island. My hostel was on Baietan Bar Street right across the Pearl River from Shamian. There was a ferry practically right outside my door that for 50 mao (1/2 a yuan), would drop me off on the corner of the island. I went over in the morning for coffee and a muffin and would stay for a few hours or all day, depending on my whim. Shamian Island is also home to the world's only atmospheric Starbucks. Occupying a colonial building with a large courtyard garden, the interior has 2 large rooms, one with a fireplace, and huge windows. It is absolutely lovely. Amazing. I thought that it was a branding requirement that all Starbucks be ugly.
After coffee, I would use the free internet over at Blenz coffee house, and wander the streets watching the people and looking for photo ops. The entire island has 3 east-west streets and 4 north-south roads. It is tiny. It consists of large hotels with their population of American families, old buildings subdivided into numerous tiny studio apartments, and the odd restaurant, shops selling tourist crap geared to appeal to new parents eager to spend money, and number of people who've come to the island for photo shoots, whether professional fashion shoots or private wedding pictures. The bridal photo thing seems to have caught on here.
I really enjoyed watching the adoptive parents. They all seemed to be American. Most were older, and seemed a little unsure of how to handle their new child. I saw a lot of awkward moments that were very sweet. I also saw one lesbian couple with a new daughter. That was surprising because I was under the impression that China wouldn't allow gay couples to adopt. This preconception was probably formed by a Simpsons episode though.
I'm torn on the whole Chinese adoption subject. Of course, my opinion of the process is entirely beside the point and meaningless to any of the principals involved. It just seems horrific on the one hand that China is selling its daughters to Americans, yet it makes everyone involved so happy that it's hard to argue against the practice. Seeing those chortling little girls with new adoring parents, knowing that they will have good lives makes it difficult to think that it's an abhorrent policy. I can argue both sides, without being able to commit fully to either position. I did see one couple that had gotten a baby boy. This was astonishing until I learned that in addition to his visible cleft palate, he also had a number of other ailments that had kept him hospitalized for all of the previous year - he was 2. The new parents weren't told of his health issues until after the papers were signed. They said, and I believed them, that they would have taken him regardless, but it would've been nice to have been told in advance. Question: should there be lemon laws for adoption agencies?
There was so much to see and ponder on the island that I spent a day and a half there without feeling any urge to leave. Just the prevalence of old shade trees made it one of my favorite spots in China. For a people so obsessed with white skin, it hasn't seemed to occur to the Chinese that shade trees might be of assistance. I did get a massage on Day 2 at a Chinese medical health center. The foot massage was absolutely incredible. It included a shoulder massage and foot bath as well as a chiropractic spinal adjustment. Fabulous. I felt invigorated and ready for almost anything. Then, I got the body massage. OUCH. If you have a very high pain threshold, you might enjoy that massage. If you enjoy having someone stick his fingers in your ears and rub his sweaty hands all over your face, you will love it! I did not particularly enjoy it and will stick to foot massage from here on.
After a couple of days luxuriating in real coffee (I am truly sick of drinking Nescafe), and beauty, I did finally get a bite from the tourist bug and wandered over to see the Chen Family Ancestral Confucian Academy. It's being used as a folk art museum and it well worth a look. Gorgeous building and some nice art pieces on display. Then, I went over to the Five Celestials Shrine. This is a Taoist Shrine dedicated to the 5 "fairies" who rode down from heaven on goats with ears of rice in their mouths during the reign of King Yi of the Zhou Dynasty - I have no clue what that works out to on the Gregorian calendar. They gave rice to the local people who were in the midst of a rather severe famine, and blessed all of their future crops. The immortals then rose into the sky and their goats turned into statues. Guangzhou was founded on the spot of their landfall and was called Yangcheng (City of Goats) and Suicheng (City of Rice Ears). The shrine was a bit lacklustre as a site, but anecdotally is a must-do. They rode goats!!!
Just to hit Confucian, Taoist, and Buddhist sites all in one day, I continued on to the Temple of the 6 Banyan Trees. This temple contains the Flowery Pagoda which has 17 levels, as well as quite a few trees and a few different shrines. The representations of the Buddha seemed slightly more influenced by India than others that I've seen in China. It was originally built in 537 and has had a variety of names during that time span. It finally settled into the Temple of the Six Banyan Trees during the Song Dynasty (960-1279 CE) when a visiting author was invited to rename it. He said that he had come to the temple suffering from depression, but while he was there, there were 6 particular banyan trees that had made him feel so happy to perceive that his depression had lifted. Thus, the Temple of the Six Banyan Trees.
Honestly, the temple was nice, but what sticks out about my visit there is what happened outside of the temple. I had stepped aside out of the way of a monk leading a group of pilgrims, and was trying to decide if I had enough chutzpa to take a couple photos of them (I didn't), when I was surrounded by a group of beggers. They all were missing hands. I don't know how many there were. One second, I was looking at my camera, the next, my field of vision was filled with wrist stumps being waved in my face. There were between 4 and 6 of them, I think. A couple were double amputees, and the rest were only missing one hand each. They were all smiling broadly. I'm ashamed to say that I didn't give any of them any money. When they appeared, I just wanted to get away and so I entered the temple complex. While inside, I decided to give each person 20 yuan when I left. However, they were gone by the time that I exited the temple. The whole thing was unsettling. I asked a couple of people (hostel workers, locals on Shamian) if there was a reason why there were so many amputees around the temple, but the people I asked either didn't know or wouldn't say. I have since learned that Guangzhou is one of the locations where Falun Gong is most harshly suppressed. There is a "rehab center" in the city that serves as a reeducation center. I have no idea if their allegations of severe torture are true, but I can say from personal experience that there are a lot of people missing limbs in Guangzhou.
I also tried to visit the Qingping market, fully prepared to be horrified and sickened by the sight of dogs and cats being sold as meat. Foiled! I don't know where people go now to buy their nice haunch of golden retriever, but there was nary a puppy to be found at Qingping. I saw snakes, lizards, sea horses, beetles and roaches - all for human consumption. I didn't see any edible housepets. I felt a little cheated, and a little relieved. Only a little relieved because I doubt that Cantonese cuisine no longer serves fried cat, just the market location seems to have shifted.
I had a lovely, relaxing time in Guangzhou. The city was a relief after Yangshuo; the Pearl River was lovely, especially at night by boat - though the river meant mosquitos; Shamian Island is fantastic; and the number one best thing about Guangzhou is the emphasis on fitness. I love it. I got up early two days in a row to go out and watch the people exercising on the riverfront. It was amazing. My favorite was an old man who was a tai chi master. He was teaching a student and I watched them practice for almost half an hour. During the entire time, the master never lost his balance or focus. It was amazing. Not huge bursts of effort, rather a sustained intensity of small, slow movement.
My time in Guangzhou drew to a close. Next up was the island of Hainan and some lounging at the beach in Sanya. Yay!
You can see my pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/Guangzhou
I sat up poring over Lonely Planet, looking for anything that sounded interesting. That's when I read about Guangzhou; Canton, as it was called for hundreds of years of British domination. Founding site of a wonderful culinary tradition, and location of infamous market in puppies and kitties for the pot. It sounded perfect! Nice colonial background to provide some interesting architecture. Some good temples, and the infamous Qingping market. I decided to spend 3 nights there and was curious as to why no other backpackers seemed to be mentioning Guangzhou in their itineraries.
Let me tell you something about Lonely Planet. The number one backpacker complaint about LP is that they are enthusiastic about everything. They will never come out and say, "the place is a dud, skip it." The dustiest small town will be described with only a fraction less enthusiasm than the Great Wall of China. I fell victim to this phenomena despite being on the watch for it.
Guangzhou is a city. It's a fairly standard city with no major tourist sites. It does have Shamian Island, granted as a permanent foreigner enclave/trading post following the First Opium War. The island is full of beautiful European style buildings that are decaying in a visually appealing way. It is also the number one location for American couples adopting Chinese babies, due to the presence of a US Consulate specializing in adoption. That was not mentioned in LP.
When I arrived and found out just what Guangzhou has to offer, I was a little doubtful as to the wisdom of my choice of destination. However, after a little thought, I realized that I was all touristed out, and wouldn't mind some downtime. Also, I'm an urban dweller. I actually like cities. I like watching people in cities. I like to wander around and find out how things work. Guangzhou might be more of a transit hub than a tourist destination, but it worked for me.
I spent most of my time on Shamian Island. My hostel was on Baietan Bar Street right across the Pearl River from Shamian. There was a ferry practically right outside my door that for 50 mao (1/2 a yuan), would drop me off on the corner of the island. I went over in the morning for coffee and a muffin and would stay for a few hours or all day, depending on my whim. Shamian Island is also home to the world's only atmospheric Starbucks. Occupying a colonial building with a large courtyard garden, the interior has 2 large rooms, one with a fireplace, and huge windows. It is absolutely lovely. Amazing. I thought that it was a branding requirement that all Starbucks be ugly.
After coffee, I would use the free internet over at Blenz coffee house, and wander the streets watching the people and looking for photo ops. The entire island has 3 east-west streets and 4 north-south roads. It is tiny. It consists of large hotels with their population of American families, old buildings subdivided into numerous tiny studio apartments, and the odd restaurant, shops selling tourist crap geared to appeal to new parents eager to spend money, and number of people who've come to the island for photo shoots, whether professional fashion shoots or private wedding pictures. The bridal photo thing seems to have caught on here.
I really enjoyed watching the adoptive parents. They all seemed to be American. Most were older, and seemed a little unsure of how to handle their new child. I saw a lot of awkward moments that were very sweet. I also saw one lesbian couple with a new daughter. That was surprising because I was under the impression that China wouldn't allow gay couples to adopt. This preconception was probably formed by a Simpsons episode though.
I'm torn on the whole Chinese adoption subject. Of course, my opinion of the process is entirely beside the point and meaningless to any of the principals involved. It just seems horrific on the one hand that China is selling its daughters to Americans, yet it makes everyone involved so happy that it's hard to argue against the practice. Seeing those chortling little girls with new adoring parents, knowing that they will have good lives makes it difficult to think that it's an abhorrent policy. I can argue both sides, without being able to commit fully to either position. I did see one couple that had gotten a baby boy. This was astonishing until I learned that in addition to his visible cleft palate, he also had a number of other ailments that had kept him hospitalized for all of the previous year - he was 2. The new parents weren't told of his health issues until after the papers were signed. They said, and I believed them, that they would have taken him regardless, but it would've been nice to have been told in advance. Question: should there be lemon laws for adoption agencies?
There was so much to see and ponder on the island that I spent a day and a half there without feeling any urge to leave. Just the prevalence of old shade trees made it one of my favorite spots in China. For a people so obsessed with white skin, it hasn't seemed to occur to the Chinese that shade trees might be of assistance. I did get a massage on Day 2 at a Chinese medical health center. The foot massage was absolutely incredible. It included a shoulder massage and foot bath as well as a chiropractic spinal adjustment. Fabulous. I felt invigorated and ready for almost anything. Then, I got the body massage. OUCH. If you have a very high pain threshold, you might enjoy that massage. If you enjoy having someone stick his fingers in your ears and rub his sweaty hands all over your face, you will love it! I did not particularly enjoy it and will stick to foot massage from here on.
After a couple of days luxuriating in real coffee (I am truly sick of drinking Nescafe), and beauty, I did finally get a bite from the tourist bug and wandered over to see the Chen Family Ancestral Confucian Academy. It's being used as a folk art museum and it well worth a look. Gorgeous building and some nice art pieces on display. Then, I went over to the Five Celestials Shrine. This is a Taoist Shrine dedicated to the 5 "fairies" who rode down from heaven on goats with ears of rice in their mouths during the reign of King Yi of the Zhou Dynasty - I have no clue what that works out to on the Gregorian calendar. They gave rice to the local people who were in the midst of a rather severe famine, and blessed all of their future crops. The immortals then rose into the sky and their goats turned into statues. Guangzhou was founded on the spot of their landfall and was called Yangcheng (City of Goats) and Suicheng (City of Rice Ears). The shrine was a bit lacklustre as a site, but anecdotally is a must-do. They rode goats!!!
Just to hit Confucian, Taoist, and Buddhist sites all in one day, I continued on to the Temple of the 6 Banyan Trees. This temple contains the Flowery Pagoda which has 17 levels, as well as quite a few trees and a few different shrines. The representations of the Buddha seemed slightly more influenced by India than others that I've seen in China. It was originally built in 537 and has had a variety of names during that time span. It finally settled into the Temple of the Six Banyan Trees during the Song Dynasty (960-1279 CE) when a visiting author was invited to rename it. He said that he had come to the temple suffering from depression, but while he was there, there were 6 particular banyan trees that had made him feel so happy to perceive that his depression had lifted. Thus, the Temple of the Six Banyan Trees.
Honestly, the temple was nice, but what sticks out about my visit there is what happened outside of the temple. I had stepped aside out of the way of a monk leading a group of pilgrims, and was trying to decide if I had enough chutzpa to take a couple photos of them (I didn't), when I was surrounded by a group of beggers. They all were missing hands. I don't know how many there were. One second, I was looking at my camera, the next, my field of vision was filled with wrist stumps being waved in my face. There were between 4 and 6 of them, I think. A couple were double amputees, and the rest were only missing one hand each. They were all smiling broadly. I'm ashamed to say that I didn't give any of them any money. When they appeared, I just wanted to get away and so I entered the temple complex. While inside, I decided to give each person 20 yuan when I left. However, they were gone by the time that I exited the temple. The whole thing was unsettling. I asked a couple of people (hostel workers, locals on Shamian) if there was a reason why there were so many amputees around the temple, but the people I asked either didn't know or wouldn't say. I have since learned that Guangzhou is one of the locations where Falun Gong is most harshly suppressed. There is a "rehab center" in the city that serves as a reeducation center. I have no idea if their allegations of severe torture are true, but I can say from personal experience that there are a lot of people missing limbs in Guangzhou.
I also tried to visit the Qingping market, fully prepared to be horrified and sickened by the sight of dogs and cats being sold as meat. Foiled! I don't know where people go now to buy their nice haunch of golden retriever, but there was nary a puppy to be found at Qingping. I saw snakes, lizards, sea horses, beetles and roaches - all for human consumption. I didn't see any edible housepets. I felt a little cheated, and a little relieved. Only a little relieved because I doubt that Cantonese cuisine no longer serves fried cat, just the market location seems to have shifted.
I had a lovely, relaxing time in Guangzhou. The city was a relief after Yangshuo; the Pearl River was lovely, especially at night by boat - though the river meant mosquitos; Shamian Island is fantastic; and the number one best thing about Guangzhou is the emphasis on fitness. I love it. I got up early two days in a row to go out and watch the people exercising on the riverfront. It was amazing. My favorite was an old man who was a tai chi master. He was teaching a student and I watched them practice for almost half an hour. During the entire time, the master never lost his balance or focus. It was amazing. Not huge bursts of effort, rather a sustained intensity of small, slow movement.
My time in Guangzhou drew to a close. Next up was the island of Hainan and some lounging at the beach in Sanya. Yay!
You can see my pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/Guangzhou
Friday, September 21, 2007
Yangshuo, the port of excretion
On my third day in Yangshuo, I rose early, thrilled to bits to be going kayaking. I love kayaking. Being on the water, going at my own pace and in the direction of my choice. It sounded heavenly. I was also looking forward to some good exercise.
I arrived at the tour office at 9am, as scheduled. There, I only had a short wait before my guide showed up. That's when the first blip occurred. Instead of a nice minibus to take us out to the launch site, there was a motorbike. OK, I was wearing my flipflops, but I'm an adventurous sort. I hopped on behind the driver and tried not to sit too close. Then, I noticed that there was only one motorbike. Odd. How was the guide getting around. Oh, I hadn't realized that three adults could all fit on one motorbike. OK.
We left town and headed out into what Lonely Planet raves about as "some traveler's best experience in China", the countryside around Yangshuo. We went through small villages and fields, seeing many an unspoiled vista and charismatic farmer. Lovely. Of course, it was a little hard to appreciate the scenery while racing past on the extremely rocky dirt road, sandwiched between two strange men. Quite an experience.
Finally, we arrived at another village where the guide stored his kayaks. There, the second blip came up. While I was occupied photographing a water pump, he pulled out...an inflatable canoe. Ah, no. I wanted a kayak. He explained to me that it was very very difficult to transport a kayak back from Puyi - that he would be forced to rent a tractor. He went on and on and on. Finally, I agreed to try it. We went down to the river. This is where I discovered that I'd be on my own on the river. No other tourists had been interested in kayacking and boyo would meet me in Yuli. After a pause, I realized that I actually would prefer a little time alone, so that was fine. Then, I asked how I would know that I had reached the meeting point. He said, "At Puyi," and looked at me as if I was crazy for needing to ask.
I said, "Yes, well, I've never been to Puyi. How will I know that I've arrived?" He responded that I shouldn't worry, he would take the responsibility of finding me, that it was very easy." I said OK. As I started paddling, he called out, as a last minute thought, "At the fork, go right, and at the island, go left!" Great, right then left. Or, was it the other way around?
After about 2 minutes of paddling, I realized that a) the inflatable canoe was extremely unsteady and eager to dump me in the river; b) sitting in the front of a 2-person boat meant that when I paddled, it was very hard to steer a straight course because vigorous paddling spun me from side to side; c) an inflatable canoe moves like a barge. Far from zipping hither and yon in my kayak, I was barely able to move faster than the current, and if I paddled too hard, I went wildly off course; d) the paddle that I'd been given was basically a child's toy, far to spindly to work well. This was not going to work. I managed to get to the bank, and climbed back up to demand the kayak that I had reserved. I had paid to go kayaking, not to float down the river in this ridiculous thing. The motorbike was gone. I banged on the door of the storage facility and got no response. This was it. I was stuck with the stupid raft. I was stranded with no way to get back to Yangshuo except going downriver and meeting the jerk who guilted me into this raft.
With anger in my heart, I climbed back in the floating hell. After 2 hours of paddling in less and less scenic environs, this anger had increased to hatred. I hated that tour company. I hated the guy who tricked me into accepting this ridiculous boat. I hated the motorbike driver for taking off so quickly. I hated the fishermen and bamboo cutters for staring at me as I floated past them in my ridiculous puffy blue boat. I loathed the tourists going past me in their air conditioned motor boats. I was streaming sweat, broiling in the sun despite my hat, and incredibly frustrated by trying to get that raft to move. I did discover that the Li river is a great place for primal yells and for singing at the top of your lungs. It was a way to pass the time. I discovered a hitherto unknown talent for songwriting. Oddly, all of the songs seemed to be quite insulting about the physical, mental and spiritual attributes of the jerk who put me in the instrument of torture.
Then, I reached Puyi. Of course, I didn't know it was Puyi. From the river, there are a couple of buildings and a big floating factory barge, emitting black smoke. I didn't see my guy. I paddled over to the left bank where I saw a woman with a baby. When I asked, "Puyi?" she pointed downriver. I thanked her and continued on. After about a 20 minutes, I had doubts and asked some fishermen where Puyi was. They pointed back the way that I'd come. Great. While floating downriver, the current had seemed negligible, barely helpful at all. When fighting against it, suddenly that current was a lot stronger. I ｄｅｃｉｄｅｄ ｔｏ ｇｅｔ ｏｕｔ ａｎｄ ｗａｌｋ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｒｉｖｅｒ ｂａｎｋ ｆｏｒ ａｗｈｉｌｅ， ｐｕｌｌｉｎｇ ｍｙ ｃａｎｏｅ． Ｔｈｉｓ ａｌｌｏｗｅｄ ｍｅ ｔｏ ｂｅｃｏｍｅ ｓｏａｋｅｄ ｆｒｏｍ ｔｈｅ ｗａｉｓｔ ｄｏｗｎ ｉｎ ａｄｄｉｔｉｏｎ ｔｏ ｓｗｅａｔｙ， ｈｏｔ， ａｎｄ ｐｉｓｓｅｄ ｏｆｆ． Ｉ ｗａｌｋｅｄ ａｓ ｆａｒ ａｓ Ｉ ｃｏｕｌｄ， ｂｕｔ ｅｖｅｎｔｕａｌｌｙ ｈａｄ ｎｏ ｃｈｏｉｃｅ ｂｕｔ ｔｏ ｃｌａｍｂｅｒ ｂａｃｋ ｉｎ ａｎｄ ｐａｄｄｌｅ． Ｉwas on the wrong side of the river, you see. As soon as Iｓｔａｒｔｅｄ ａｃｒｏｓｓ ｔｈｅ ｒｉｖｅｒ， ｆｉｇｈｔｉｎｇ ｔｈｅ ｃｕｒｒｅｎｔ， ｍｙ ｔｒｕｓｔｙ ｇｕｉｄｅ ａｐｐｅａｒｅｄ， ｊｕｍｐｉｎｇ ｕｐ ａｎｄ ｄｏｗｎ ａｎｄ ｗａｖｉｎｇ ｈｉｓ ａｒｍｓ， ｗｅａｒｉｎｇ ａ ｂｒｉｇｈｔ ｏｒａｎｇｅ ｓｈｉｒｔ ｔｈａｔ ｗａｓ ｉｍｐｏｓｓｉｂｌｅ ｔｏ ｍｉｓｓ． Ｇｒｅａｔ． Ｉｆ ｏｎｌｙ ｈｅ＇ｄ ｂｅｅｎ ｔｈｅｒｅ ４５ ｍｉｎｕｔｅｓ ａｇｏ． He continued waving, apparently convinced that I was frantically paddling upstream in his direction by merest fluke and that without his assistance, I would...let's see, continue past? I flipped him off and kept paddling.
Finally, I reached the other bank and had the opportunity to tell the guy exactly what I thought of his "kayak trip". He said, "I don't understand. Many Chinese people have taken this canoe and are very happy. I knew that I had no chance of getting my money back, so I at least tried to make him feel like a jerk. It didn't do much good. Tour operators in Yangshuo have thick skins from dealing with a constant stream of angry, cheated customers.
We trudged into Puyi's one main street where I discovered that my mode of transit back to Yangshuo was the local bus. The bus that didn't leave for another 40 minutes. I got to sit around, in wet things for 40 minutes waiting to board the local bus. In Yangshuo, they'd actually tried to charge me 50 yuan extra for my transit back to Yangshuo. This was particularly funny when I saw what the transit was - a 1.50 rattletrap minibus. When I mentioned how poorly organized this entire thing was, I was told, "It's OK, you just didn't like the boat."
After all of that, I arrived back in Yangshuo in a pisser of a mood. I decided to have some down time and after a much needed shower, I set off on an epic quest for edible food. My quest was unsuccessful, but as a side bennie, I did try 3 new restaurants. Then, it was time to get changed and head over to the highlight of my trip, the performance of 'Impression of the 3rd Liu Sister' on the Li River. This is an entire theatrical event involving 600 performers, multiple costume and lighting changes, all on the Li river with the karst peaks as a backdrop. Absolutely brilliant! The directors are geniuses. Since they are the ones in charge of choreographing the
Beijing Olympics opening ceremonies, I might actually watch. It should be fabulous.
I arrived back at my guesthouse in a much improved state of mind, thinking that Yangshuo really was a wonderful place. I was tired, happy, and ready to go to bed. Then, I saw them. They were everywhere - baby cockroaches. My bedside table was absolutely covered in them. I saw at least 30. I am not well equipped to deal with cockroaches. I am lucky enough to not have extensive experience with them. They seemed especially excited by my box of nescafe packets, which was covered in them. I have no clue why cockroaches want to be caffeinated, but apparently they do.
I raced back downstairs and announced my problem. A girl came back upstairs with me, carrying a rag. Together, we threw out nearly everything on that table. I didn't care that these were things I'd carried around for a month. They'd been contaminated and needed to be removed. For example, my dental floss had cockroaches on it. Would you use cockroach floss? Neither would I. At my insistence, she wiped down the area with bleach before leaving. OK. In this room, I had already dealt with 2 black jumping spiders, now cockroaches. That was it. My opinion of Yangshuo calcified. The place is a pit. Stay in Guilin, visit Yangshuo. Unless you enjoy living in filth while being hounded and ripped off at every opportunity - it takes all kinds.
The next day was my last in Yangshuo. I needed to be on a bus to Guilin by 4pm, to catch my 6:40 train to Guanzhou. I spent the morning repacking my bag, trying very hard to ensure that I would not be the unwitting transporter of sightseeing cockroaches. Then, I had a (bad) lunch and hung out in an internet cafe until it was time to catch my bus.
Once I'd boarded the bus, I felt much better. I think that Yangshuo, like Xi'an was just unlucky for me. I should have worn more red (red is considered a lucky color in China). I'm sure that over the years to come, I will forget about the cockroaches and pushy vendors, and remember the beautiful scenery and placid water buffalo. I'm glad that I had the opportunity to go, and boy, was I glad to get away!
In Guilin, I was actually dropped off at the train station. I had plenty of time to shop for snacks before boarding the train. Once the train had arrived and we had all shoved our way aboard, I happily settled in to my soft sleeper compartment. Well worth the extra money. I had a lovely bed in a four bunk room. I was sharing with an elderly man who was traveling with his two daughters. The daughters were actually in the next compartment, but they kept running over every few minutes to make sure that Baba was OK and didn't need anything. It was so sweet. The 'girls' must have been in their 50s and they were devoted to their father. Every time he would settle down for a rest, one or both of them would come in to make sure that he had tea, slippers, food, a pillow, etc. Finally, they decided to switch, so that one of the daughters could watch him. So, I ended up sharing with the younger daughter while Baba went next door with his elder daughter.
That was it. My time in Guangxi province was at an end, and I was on to new environs. Did my luck improve in Guangzhou? That would be telling! ;)
I arrived at the tour office at 9am, as scheduled. There, I only had a short wait before my guide showed up. That's when the first blip occurred. Instead of a nice minibus to take us out to the launch site, there was a motorbike. OK, I was wearing my flipflops, but I'm an adventurous sort. I hopped on behind the driver and tried not to sit too close. Then, I noticed that there was only one motorbike. Odd. How was the guide getting around. Oh, I hadn't realized that three adults could all fit on one motorbike. OK.
We left town and headed out into what Lonely Planet raves about as "some traveler's best experience in China", the countryside around Yangshuo. We went through small villages and fields, seeing many an unspoiled vista and charismatic farmer. Lovely. Of course, it was a little hard to appreciate the scenery while racing past on the extremely rocky dirt road, sandwiched between two strange men. Quite an experience.
Finally, we arrived at another village where the guide stored his kayaks. There, the second blip came up. While I was occupied photographing a water pump, he pulled out...an inflatable canoe. Ah, no. I wanted a kayak. He explained to me that it was very very difficult to transport a kayak back from Puyi - that he would be forced to rent a tractor. He went on and on and on. Finally, I agreed to try it. We went down to the river. This is where I discovered that I'd be on my own on the river. No other tourists had been interested in kayacking and boyo would meet me in Yuli. After a pause, I realized that I actually would prefer a little time alone, so that was fine. Then, I asked how I would know that I had reached the meeting point. He said, "At Puyi," and looked at me as if I was crazy for needing to ask.
I said, "Yes, well, I've never been to Puyi. How will I know that I've arrived?" He responded that I shouldn't worry, he would take the responsibility of finding me, that it was very easy." I said OK. As I started paddling, he called out, as a last minute thought, "At the fork, go right, and at the island, go left!" Great, right then left. Or, was it the other way around?
After about 2 minutes of paddling, I realized that a) the inflatable canoe was extremely unsteady and eager to dump me in the river; b) sitting in the front of a 2-person boat meant that when I paddled, it was very hard to steer a straight course because vigorous paddling spun me from side to side; c) an inflatable canoe moves like a barge. Far from zipping hither and yon in my kayak, I was barely able to move faster than the current, and if I paddled too hard, I went wildly off course; d) the paddle that I'd been given was basically a child's toy, far to spindly to work well. This was not going to work. I managed to get to the bank, and climbed back up to demand the kayak that I had reserved. I had paid to go kayaking, not to float down the river in this ridiculous thing. The motorbike was gone. I banged on the door of the storage facility and got no response. This was it. I was stuck with the stupid raft. I was stranded with no way to get back to Yangshuo except going downriver and meeting the jerk who guilted me into this raft.
With anger in my heart, I climbed back in the floating hell. After 2 hours of paddling in less and less scenic environs, this anger had increased to hatred. I hated that tour company. I hated the guy who tricked me into accepting this ridiculous boat. I hated the motorbike driver for taking off so quickly. I hated the fishermen and bamboo cutters for staring at me as I floated past them in my ridiculous puffy blue boat. I loathed the tourists going past me in their air conditioned motor boats. I was streaming sweat, broiling in the sun despite my hat, and incredibly frustrated by trying to get that raft to move. I did discover that the Li river is a great place for primal yells and for singing at the top of your lungs. It was a way to pass the time. I discovered a hitherto unknown talent for songwriting. Oddly, all of the songs seemed to be quite insulting about the physical, mental and spiritual attributes of the jerk who put me in the instrument of torture.
Then, I reached Puyi. Of course, I didn't know it was Puyi. From the river, there are a couple of buildings and a big floating factory barge, emitting black smoke. I didn't see my guy. I paddled over to the left bank where I saw a woman with a baby. When I asked, "Puyi?" she pointed downriver. I thanked her and continued on. After about a 20 minutes, I had doubts and asked some fishermen where Puyi was. They pointed back the way that I'd come. Great. While floating downriver, the current had seemed negligible, barely helpful at all. When fighting against it, suddenly that current was a lot stronger. I ｄｅｃｉｄｅｄ ｔｏ ｇｅｔ ｏｕｔ ａｎｄ ｗａｌｋ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｒｉｖｅｒ ｂａｎｋ ｆｏｒ ａｗｈｉｌｅ， ｐｕｌｌｉｎｇ ｍｙ ｃａｎｏｅ． Ｔｈｉｓ ａｌｌｏｗｅｄ ｍｅ ｔｏ ｂｅｃｏｍｅ ｓｏａｋｅｄ ｆｒｏｍ ｔｈｅ ｗａｉｓｔ ｄｏｗｎ ｉｎ ａｄｄｉｔｉｏｎ ｔｏ ｓｗｅａｔｙ， ｈｏｔ， ａｎｄ ｐｉｓｓｅｄ ｏｆｆ． Ｉ ｗａｌｋｅｄ ａｓ ｆａｒ ａｓ Ｉ ｃｏｕｌｄ， ｂｕｔ ｅｖｅｎｔｕａｌｌｙ ｈａｄ ｎｏ ｃｈｏｉｃｅ ｂｕｔ ｔｏ ｃｌａｍｂｅｒ ｂａｃｋ ｉｎ ａｎｄ ｐａｄｄｌｅ． Ｉwas on the wrong side of the river, you see. As soon as Iｓｔａｒｔｅｄ ａｃｒｏｓｓ ｔｈｅ ｒｉｖｅｒ， ｆｉｇｈｔｉｎｇ ｔｈｅ ｃｕｒｒｅｎｔ， ｍｙ ｔｒｕｓｔｙ ｇｕｉｄｅ ａｐｐｅａｒｅｄ， ｊｕｍｐｉｎｇ ｕｐ ａｎｄ ｄｏｗｎ ａｎｄ ｗａｖｉｎｇ ｈｉｓ ａｒｍｓ， ｗｅａｒｉｎｇ ａ ｂｒｉｇｈｔ ｏｒａｎｇｅ ｓｈｉｒｔ ｔｈａｔ ｗａｓ ｉｍｐｏｓｓｉｂｌｅ ｔｏ ｍｉｓｓ． Ｇｒｅａｔ． Ｉｆ ｏｎｌｙ ｈｅ＇ｄ ｂｅｅｎ ｔｈｅｒｅ ４５ ｍｉｎｕｔｅｓ ａｇｏ． He continued waving, apparently convinced that I was frantically paddling upstream in his direction by merest fluke and that without his assistance, I would...let's see, continue past? I flipped him off and kept paddling.
Finally, I reached the other bank and had the opportunity to tell the guy exactly what I thought of his "kayak trip". He said, "I don't understand. Many Chinese people have taken this canoe and are very happy. I knew that I had no chance of getting my money back, so I at least tried to make him feel like a jerk. It didn't do much good. Tour operators in Yangshuo have thick skins from dealing with a constant stream of angry, cheated customers.
We trudged into Puyi's one main street where I discovered that my mode of transit back to Yangshuo was the local bus. The bus that didn't leave for another 40 minutes. I got to sit around, in wet things for 40 minutes waiting to board the local bus. In Yangshuo, they'd actually tried to charge me 50 yuan extra for my transit back to Yangshuo. This was particularly funny when I saw what the transit was - a 1.50 rattletrap minibus. When I mentioned how poorly organized this entire thing was, I was told, "It's OK, you just didn't like the boat."
After all of that, I arrived back in Yangshuo in a pisser of a mood. I decided to have some down time and after a much needed shower, I set off on an epic quest for edible food. My quest was unsuccessful, but as a side bennie, I did try 3 new restaurants. Then, it was time to get changed and head over to the highlight of my trip, the performance of 'Impression of the 3rd Liu Sister' on the Li River. This is an entire theatrical event involving 600 performers, multiple costume and lighting changes, all on the Li river with the karst peaks as a backdrop. Absolutely brilliant! The directors are geniuses. Since they are the ones in charge of choreographing the
Beijing Olympics opening ceremonies, I might actually watch. It should be fabulous.
I arrived back at my guesthouse in a much improved state of mind, thinking that Yangshuo really was a wonderful place. I was tired, happy, and ready to go to bed. Then, I saw them. They were everywhere - baby cockroaches. My bedside table was absolutely covered in them. I saw at least 30. I am not well equipped to deal with cockroaches. I am lucky enough to not have extensive experience with them. They seemed especially excited by my box of nescafe packets, which was covered in them. I have no clue why cockroaches want to be caffeinated, but apparently they do.
I raced back downstairs and announced my problem. A girl came back upstairs with me, carrying a rag. Together, we threw out nearly everything on that table. I didn't care that these were things I'd carried around for a month. They'd been contaminated and needed to be removed. For example, my dental floss had cockroaches on it. Would you use cockroach floss? Neither would I. At my insistence, she wiped down the area with bleach before leaving. OK. In this room, I had already dealt with 2 black jumping spiders, now cockroaches. That was it. My opinion of Yangshuo calcified. The place is a pit. Stay in Guilin, visit Yangshuo. Unless you enjoy living in filth while being hounded and ripped off at every opportunity - it takes all kinds.
The next day was my last in Yangshuo. I needed to be on a bus to Guilin by 4pm, to catch my 6:40 train to Guanzhou. I spent the morning repacking my bag, trying very hard to ensure that I would not be the unwitting transporter of sightseeing cockroaches. Then, I had a (bad) lunch and hung out in an internet cafe until it was time to catch my bus.
Once I'd boarded the bus, I felt much better. I think that Yangshuo, like Xi'an was just unlucky for me. I should have worn more red (red is considered a lucky color in China). I'm sure that over the years to come, I will forget about the cockroaches and pushy vendors, and remember the beautiful scenery and placid water buffalo. I'm glad that I had the opportunity to go, and boy, was I glad to get away!
In Guilin, I was actually dropped off at the train station. I had plenty of time to shop for snacks before boarding the train. Once the train had arrived and we had all shoved our way aboard, I happily settled in to my soft sleeper compartment. Well worth the extra money. I had a lovely bed in a four bunk room. I was sharing with an elderly man who was traveling with his two daughters. The daughters were actually in the next compartment, but they kept running over every few minutes to make sure that Baba was OK and didn't need anything. It was so sweet. The 'girls' must have been in their 50s and they were devoted to their father. Every time he would settle down for a rest, one or both of them would come in to make sure that he had tea, slippers, food, a pillow, etc. Finally, they decided to switch, so that one of the daughters could watch him. So, I ended up sharing with the younger daughter while Baba went next door with his elder daughter.
That was it. My time in Guangxi province was at an end, and I was on to new environs. Did my luck improve in Guangzhou? That would be telling! ;)
Update: I've just met a Dutch couple who stayed at a place called The Giggling Tree. It is 5 km outside of Yangshuo, on the river, fabulous food, a lovely courtyard and private rooms for 100 yuan, all spotlessly clean. It provided bikes, motorbikes, tours and tickets. They had a wonderful time and were incredulous when I told them of the cockroaches. Just an fyi, in case anyone is planning on going there.
For pictures, please see http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/GuilinYangshuo
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Yangshuo the Magnificent
The karst topography around Yangshuo and Guilin make it the number one scenic destination in Guangxi province, and debatably in all of China. The distinctive sharp peaks, caves, natural bridges and streams were all formed by groundwater working on limestone over the course of a few thousand years. While stunning, this area is fragile and easily damaged by the everpresent pollution. I had my first look at the region in Guilin, and loved it. Then, I took the obligatory Li River cruise. This was 4 hours on a cruise ship floating down the river past peak after peak after spectacular peak - all the way downriver to Yangshuo town. Most of the peaks have a Chinese name that was settled on it hundreds of years ago. These are names suggested by the shape of the hill. Think of laying in the grass looking for shapes in the clouds. Instead, people laid on bamboo rafts and looked for shapes in the hills. We have elephant trunk hill, demon hill, weeping woman hill, etc. etc. Most require a great deal of imagination to see, and honestly it's a lot more fun to discover your own shapes in the hills. Not a bad way to spend a couple of hours.
So, I spent my 4 hours on the boat, watching the hills slowly pass, and comparing the sight to the documentaries on China that I've seen in the past. It was a little anticlimactic. I always thought that it would be so amazing to go down the Li River surrounded by that dramatic scenery. It was nice, but I think that I'd reached saturation point. One can only be stunned and awed so many times before becoming a little blase. I really needed to rest and build up a new store of globetrotterism. I would certainly recommend the trip, but think it'd be better if you don't expect too much.
Lunch began my food purgatory for the next 4 days. The vegetarian option was soup of celery and potato, a dish of fried celery, a dish of fried cucumber, rice (mine had bugs in it), and sweet tofu skin which was pretty much pure fat rather than protein. I was to become extremely tired of cucumber and celery. There must have been a bumper crop of it just recently, 'cause all "mixed vegetable" dishes are cucumber, celery, and a couple slivers of carrot. I really don't like cooked cucumber.
We docked in Yangshuo at around 1:30. I declined the opportunity to take the supplementary tour that would give me, for 200 yuan, a set of watered down, accessible experiences that I could have on my own for 65 yuan and much more personal satisfaction. I found my hostel, the Waterbuffalo Guesthouse inside the Buffalo Bar right off of West Street (the main pedestrian street in Yangshuo). I was disturbed to realize that this was definitely not a hostel, it was a few nice rooms above a bar. There would be no meeting of other travellers in a common room. As a trade off, I got a private sitting room, bathroom, and bedroom with air conditioning and a television. Hmmm. I was won over by the private bathroom, a by now unthought of luxury.
That first afternoon, I mostly spent searching for edible food and exploring my environs and my options. The available activities were: cormorant fishing, hot air ballooning, full day tour to the dragon back rice terraces, the Impressions show on the river, cycling, the water cave, rock climbing, white water rafting, kayaking, bamboo rafting, hiking, etc. etc. This place was fully kitted out with a myriad of tourism options as well as a large expat community that mostly consisted of American and British 22 year olds who didn't want to teach English, but didn't want to go home either. They worked in restaurants, led tour groups, and mostly just got drunk every night, adding to the atmosphere of Yangshuo.
On the food front, the town was covered with pizza and ice cream. The pizza was uniformly awful. The ice cream was quite yummy. I also tried 3 versions of a veggie burger. The best was just a slice of firm tofu in a bun with tomato, lettuce, and cucumber. Simple and tasty. The worst was the breaded, deep fried soft tofu. I came to a decision that I would no longer force myself to eat the disgusting food I was served. I would still pay for it, but if it was inedible, I would no longer fool myself that the few bites I managed to choke down was a meal. Instead, I'd go to a different restaurant and try again. This wasted a lot of money, but succeeded in stopping my weight loss. I don't know if I've regained any weight, but at least I am no longer wasting away. My personal favorite on the inedible food front is the 'vegetarian burrito'. I was quite excited to see that on a menu. Until, that is, I inquired as to the ingredients, "Oh, it is very good. It is full of bamboo shoots, celery..." at this point, I thanked the girl and continued walking. Yangshuo is definitely an adventurous place for the vegetarian diner.
The main tourist area confined by the river, New West Street, West Street and Diecui Street was filled with hotels, hostels, bars, restaurants, bike rental shops, kitch t-shirt shops, shops selling all of the accoutrements of the international backpacking set (i.e. headscarves, flowing cotton skirts, cheap jewelry and indian print tank tops), old ladies selling postcards (quite enthusiastically), old ladies collecting recyclables (often before you've finished your water/coke/etc.), one annoying old man with his wood flute, on which he knows only one song - haunting the first time you hear it, but extremely annoying the 50th time, tour agents, bank machines, ice cream stands, etc. etc. The approximately 6 blocks of tourist area is absolutely crammed full of every possible thing that the residents could come up with as a mode of separating foreign devils from their currency.
As a tourist, I can not be so hypocritical as to deride the commercialization of this small town, considering that I contributed to the problem. I bought silk scarves, ice cream, tours, and bad food along with everyone else. However, I believe that I was one of the few Westerners not charmed by the veneer of Western sybarism over the rural beauty spot. After you've been to a few backpacker hotspots, watching 20 year olds get wildly drunk in the streets to the blaring of outdated Western music loses a bit of its charm.
On Day 2, I took the requisite bike ride into the rice paddies. I rode out to Moon Hill, and the Water Cave (but did not actually go in for a mud bath), then past them on a side road. What I got was an intense sunburn, a lungful of fertilizer and air pollution, and the sight of poor farmers performing the same functions that poor farmers do throughout the entire world. The crop might be rice instead of beans, but the basic premise is the same. A great deal of hard labor under intense sun, interspersed with periods of extreme boredom. The small village settlements were quagmires of stagnant humanity. The rural Chinese are not allowed by the government to move to the city. They are condemned to continue living the same lifestyle enjoyed by their great grandparents. Yes, it's quaint to watch an old man hand till a field with the aid of a water buffalo, but would you want to do it? It's charming that children are running around half naked in the dirt, but is that what you'd want for your own children? Sorry, but while actually riding my bike in the countryside, the heat, bugs and odors made me feel intensely sorry for the people who are fated to live this way. It was a shocking reminder that being born in the United States (or, even better, in Scandinavia) is equivalent to being a SuperLotto winner every day.
Then, I went up above the stink and the filth, and took a hot air balloon ride. Wow! The whole thing takes on another perspective from the air. Suddenly, the backbreaking labor takes on the appearance of manicured waves of green fields. The odor is gone. The bugs can't touch us. Everywhere I look is beauty. The fields, the river, the people so far below performing their miniature tasks. I watched a woman spray her fields with insecticide and found it marvelous. I spied on bamboo rafts floating down the river and was filled with wonder. From above, Yangshuo was a place of mystical beauty. The karst peaks are reaching for the sky and casting long shadows on the toy villages beneath.
I loved it. I was up for an hour, and I wanted to go on forever. Actually, I only paid for a half an hour, because when the tour guide tried to tell me that there was only a trip for an hour, costing 600 yuan, that there wasn't a 480 quai 1/2 hour trip that day, I said, "Fine. Never mind then." The tour purveyors invariably try to pull fast ones on you. I wasn't buying that there was no 1/2 hour trip, and felt vindicated when suddenly, a 1/2 hour trip was available. Funny. It turned out that there really was only an hour trip available. The girl who picked me up asked me to please tell the other two tourists that I paid 750 yuan for one hour, just in case they happened to ask. Yes, I felt a little bad that those two had been ripped off, but mostly, I was happy to have actually gotten a good deal in Yangshuo.
After the hot air balloon ride, I raced over to another tour outfit to go cormorant fishing. I'll admit, I mostly wanted to go on this trip because I saw Anthony Bourdain do it on his "No Reservations" show and it looked fun. It was amazing! I enjoyed it much more than he seemed to. How it worked was, it was night, very dark. About 20 tourists were loaded onto a long barge with a put-put motor. We put-putted along the Li River until we saw a light. We drew closer and came upon a bamboo raft, poled by the fisherman, with a lamp overhanging the water in front to illuminate the actions of a crew of eight cormorants. We drew alongside and that's when I realized that I had the absolute best seat in the boat. I was in front, behind the driver, next to an open window, on the same side that the raft was on. Other people were crowded in trying to see bits and pieces while I had the best view in the house.
The birds entertained us by racing along before the raft, occasionally diving and swimming underwater. For a good 10 minutes, that was the whole show. Then, we hit fish. Suddenly, every 30 seconds, a bird was emerging from the water with a struggling fish in its mouth. The cormorant would tilt back its head and swallow the prize whole. However, the fisherman had a string tied around each bird's neck. This string constricted the bird's throat so that the fish did not go all the way to the digestive tract. Instead, the fish(es) would stay put in the man-made crop until the fisherman pulled the birds in one by one by the string and forced them to regurgitate the fish. The birds were not damaged by this operation and didn't even seem too bothered by it. They all appeared healthy and happy and well fed. Each bird costs $100 US, so the fisherman has incentive to keep them in good health.
After watching the fishing for another 20 minutes or so, we pulled onto a sandbar and were able to take turns holding one of the birds. They have green eyes - green with a hint of blue. They are heavy with webbed feet and a strong grip. The cormorants also entertained us by sneaking up to the basket containing the evening's catch and trying to steal back a fish or two. While the fisherman was forcing one bird to cough up (literally) its illicit gains, another bird would sneak around to nab a fish. Very amusing. I absolutely loved it.
That concludes Days 1 and 2 in Yangshuo. The next entry will cover kayaking, the Impressions light show, and the small incident of the baby cockroaches in the night.
For pics, please see http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/GuilinYangshuo
So, I spent my 4 hours on the boat, watching the hills slowly pass, and comparing the sight to the documentaries on China that I've seen in the past. It was a little anticlimactic. I always thought that it would be so amazing to go down the Li River surrounded by that dramatic scenery. It was nice, but I think that I'd reached saturation point. One can only be stunned and awed so many times before becoming a little blase. I really needed to rest and build up a new store of globetrotterism. I would certainly recommend the trip, but think it'd be better if you don't expect too much.
Lunch began my food purgatory for the next 4 days. The vegetarian option was soup of celery and potato, a dish of fried celery, a dish of fried cucumber, rice (mine had bugs in it), and sweet tofu skin which was pretty much pure fat rather than protein. I was to become extremely tired of cucumber and celery. There must have been a bumper crop of it just recently, 'cause all "mixed vegetable" dishes are cucumber, celery, and a couple slivers of carrot. I really don't like cooked cucumber.
We docked in Yangshuo at around 1:30. I declined the opportunity to take the supplementary tour that would give me, for 200 yuan, a set of watered down, accessible experiences that I could have on my own for 65 yuan and much more personal satisfaction. I found my hostel, the Waterbuffalo Guesthouse inside the Buffalo Bar right off of West Street (the main pedestrian street in Yangshuo). I was disturbed to realize that this was definitely not a hostel, it was a few nice rooms above a bar. There would be no meeting of other travellers in a common room. As a trade off, I got a private sitting room, bathroom, and bedroom with air conditioning and a television. Hmmm. I was won over by the private bathroom, a by now unthought of luxury.
That first afternoon, I mostly spent searching for edible food and exploring my environs and my options. The available activities were: cormorant fishing, hot air ballooning, full day tour to the dragon back rice terraces, the Impressions show on the river, cycling, the water cave, rock climbing, white water rafting, kayaking, bamboo rafting, hiking, etc. etc. This place was fully kitted out with a myriad of tourism options as well as a large expat community that mostly consisted of American and British 22 year olds who didn't want to teach English, but didn't want to go home either. They worked in restaurants, led tour groups, and mostly just got drunk every night, adding to the atmosphere of Yangshuo.
On the food front, the town was covered with pizza and ice cream. The pizza was uniformly awful. The ice cream was quite yummy. I also tried 3 versions of a veggie burger. The best was just a slice of firm tofu in a bun with tomato, lettuce, and cucumber. Simple and tasty. The worst was the breaded, deep fried soft tofu. I came to a decision that I would no longer force myself to eat the disgusting food I was served. I would still pay for it, but if it was inedible, I would no longer fool myself that the few bites I managed to choke down was a meal. Instead, I'd go to a different restaurant and try again. This wasted a lot of money, but succeeded in stopping my weight loss. I don't know if I've regained any weight, but at least I am no longer wasting away. My personal favorite on the inedible food front is the 'vegetarian burrito'. I was quite excited to see that on a menu. Until, that is, I inquired as to the ingredients, "Oh, it is very good. It is full of bamboo shoots, celery..." at this point, I thanked the girl and continued walking. Yangshuo is definitely an adventurous place for the vegetarian diner.
The main tourist area confined by the river, New West Street, West Street and Diecui Street was filled with hotels, hostels, bars, restaurants, bike rental shops, kitch t-shirt shops, shops selling all of the accoutrements of the international backpacking set (i.e. headscarves, flowing cotton skirts, cheap jewelry and indian print tank tops), old ladies selling postcards (quite enthusiastically), old ladies collecting recyclables (often before you've finished your water/coke/etc.), one annoying old man with his wood flute, on which he knows only one song - haunting the first time you hear it, but extremely annoying the 50th time, tour agents, bank machines, ice cream stands, etc. etc. The approximately 6 blocks of tourist area is absolutely crammed full of every possible thing that the residents could come up with as a mode of separating foreign devils from their currency.
As a tourist, I can not be so hypocritical as to deride the commercialization of this small town, considering that I contributed to the problem. I bought silk scarves, ice cream, tours, and bad food along with everyone else. However, I believe that I was one of the few Westerners not charmed by the veneer of Western sybarism over the rural beauty spot. After you've been to a few backpacker hotspots, watching 20 year olds get wildly drunk in the streets to the blaring of outdated Western music loses a bit of its charm.
On Day 2, I took the requisite bike ride into the rice paddies. I rode out to Moon Hill, and the Water Cave (but did not actually go in for a mud bath), then past them on a side road. What I got was an intense sunburn, a lungful of fertilizer and air pollution, and the sight of poor farmers performing the same functions that poor farmers do throughout the entire world. The crop might be rice instead of beans, but the basic premise is the same. A great deal of hard labor under intense sun, interspersed with periods of extreme boredom. The small village settlements were quagmires of stagnant humanity. The rural Chinese are not allowed by the government to move to the city. They are condemned to continue living the same lifestyle enjoyed by their great grandparents. Yes, it's quaint to watch an old man hand till a field with the aid of a water buffalo, but would you want to do it? It's charming that children are running around half naked in the dirt, but is that what you'd want for your own children? Sorry, but while actually riding my bike in the countryside, the heat, bugs and odors made me feel intensely sorry for the people who are fated to live this way. It was a shocking reminder that being born in the United States (or, even better, in Scandinavia) is equivalent to being a SuperLotto winner every day.
Then, I went up above the stink and the filth, and took a hot air balloon ride. Wow! The whole thing takes on another perspective from the air. Suddenly, the backbreaking labor takes on the appearance of manicured waves of green fields. The odor is gone. The bugs can't touch us. Everywhere I look is beauty. The fields, the river, the people so far below performing their miniature tasks. I watched a woman spray her fields with insecticide and found it marvelous. I spied on bamboo rafts floating down the river and was filled with wonder. From above, Yangshuo was a place of mystical beauty. The karst peaks are reaching for the sky and casting long shadows on the toy villages beneath.
I loved it. I was up for an hour, and I wanted to go on forever. Actually, I only paid for a half an hour, because when the tour guide tried to tell me that there was only a trip for an hour, costing 600 yuan, that there wasn't a 480 quai 1/2 hour trip that day, I said, "Fine. Never mind then." The tour purveyors invariably try to pull fast ones on you. I wasn't buying that there was no 1/2 hour trip, and felt vindicated when suddenly, a 1/2 hour trip was available. Funny. It turned out that there really was only an hour trip available. The girl who picked me up asked me to please tell the other two tourists that I paid 750 yuan for one hour, just in case they happened to ask. Yes, I felt a little bad that those two had been ripped off, but mostly, I was happy to have actually gotten a good deal in Yangshuo.
After the hot air balloon ride, I raced over to another tour outfit to go cormorant fishing. I'll admit, I mostly wanted to go on this trip because I saw Anthony Bourdain do it on his "No Reservations" show and it looked fun. It was amazing! I enjoyed it much more than he seemed to. How it worked was, it was night, very dark. About 20 tourists were loaded onto a long barge with a put-put motor. We put-putted along the Li River until we saw a light. We drew closer and came upon a bamboo raft, poled by the fisherman, with a lamp overhanging the water in front to illuminate the actions of a crew of eight cormorants. We drew alongside and that's when I realized that I had the absolute best seat in the boat. I was in front, behind the driver, next to an open window, on the same side that the raft was on. Other people were crowded in trying to see bits and pieces while I had the best view in the house.
The birds entertained us by racing along before the raft, occasionally diving and swimming underwater. For a good 10 minutes, that was the whole show. Then, we hit fish. Suddenly, every 30 seconds, a bird was emerging from the water with a struggling fish in its mouth. The cormorant would tilt back its head and swallow the prize whole. However, the fisherman had a string tied around each bird's neck. This string constricted the bird's throat so that the fish did not go all the way to the digestive tract. Instead, the fish(es) would stay put in the man-made crop until the fisherman pulled the birds in one by one by the string and forced them to regurgitate the fish. The birds were not damaged by this operation and didn't even seem too bothered by it. They all appeared healthy and happy and well fed. Each bird costs $100 US, so the fisherman has incentive to keep them in good health.
After watching the fishing for another 20 minutes or so, we pulled onto a sandbar and were able to take turns holding one of the birds. They have green eyes - green with a hint of blue. They are heavy with webbed feet and a strong grip. The cormorants also entertained us by sneaking up to the basket containing the evening's catch and trying to steal back a fish or two. While the fisherman was forcing one bird to cough up (literally) its illicit gains, another bird would sneak around to nab a fish. Very amusing. I absolutely loved it.
That concludes Days 1 and 2 in Yangshuo. The next entry will cover kayaking, the Impressions light show, and the small incident of the baby cockroaches in the night.
For pics, please see http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/GuilinYangshuo
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Guilin - the scorned and maligned
Lonely Planet China is quite scathing about Guilin. Their summary of the city is, 'get yourself to Yangshuo as quickly as possible, 'cause Guilin sucks'. This is of course my paraphrase, but it accurately sums up LP's description of the city on the Li River. It's interesting because Guilin and Yangshuo share the same beautiful karst topography. Guilin is actually closer to the famous Longsheng Rice Terraces (no, I didn't go see them - I'm covered with shame). They are both on the beautiful Li river. The difference is that Yangshuo is rural(ish), while Guilin is undeniably a city.
I arrived in Guilin with this preformed opinion, courtesy of the backpacker's Bible. Thus, I was pleasantly surprised by what I found. First, the airport shuttle was a dream. It dropped us off near the train station, from whence I was easily able to catch a cab to my hostel. I only had to try 2 cabbies before getting one to go by the meter instead of trying to set an inflated price in advance, and he only took a couple of minor detours on the way there to boost the metered price, equaling maybe an extra quai. That's the best experience I've had with cabs in China.
At my hostel, I was checked in to a charming dorm room for my one night in Guilin. There, I discovered one of the interesting power saving ideas in China. All hostels that I've been to in the south issue a magnetic key card to get into your room. This key card must then be inserted into a slot by the door (inside the room) before the lights will activate. This effectively prevents people from leaving lights and air conditioners activated when they've gone out for the day. That, or they have to leave their key behind. Great idea.
I dumped my bag and then headed out to find sustenance. I was in search of Rosemary's Cafe, supplier of the city's finest Western food, according to LP. Well, the authors of LP might believe that the pinnacle of Western culinary art was reached with the invention of the frozen pizza, but I'd have to disagree. I finished my soggy mess of a "pizza" and then went wandering around a bit. There was a charming covered market area quite near to my hostel that was very entertaining, and then I stumbled on a massage storefront. I decided that I did have some time to spare for a quick 90 minute foot and shoulder massage.
Oh my. That was my first real foot massage and I am an addict. It was incredible. The shoulder massage was OK, but the foot massage!!! Wow. First, I had a foot bath with mineral salts. Then, each foot was in turn rubbed with warming lotion firmly (almost painfully) massaged, with special attention to the main pressure points that supposedly connect to my kidneys, etc. I could feel my arches perking up. After so much walking, quite often while carrying a 30 pound pack, it was heaven. Then, when I thought we were done, she applied a foot and calf mud mask! Crazy. I must admit that when it came off, my feet were very soft. :)
After my little interlude at the foot spa, I went down to the Li river. There, I watched people swimming, fishing, and bathing. It was so hot that I was quite tempted to grab my swim suit and join in. Then, I took a closer look at the film of scum and detritus floating on the water, and decided to vicariously enjoy the river. I crossed a bridge to the other bank and continued on to Qixing Gongyuan (Seven Star park), one of Guilin's nicest spots. The park is named after the seven peaks it contains which form a pattern resembling the big dipper. It is 297 acres of parkland containing streams, bridges, pagodas, caves, a zoo, and numerous scenic areas. I really really loved it. My favorite was the peak that looks like a dromedary camel from one side and a bactrian camel from the other. Amazing! Best of all, on the bactrian side, there's a huge plaque saying that Bill Clinton gave a speech at that site. As a loyal Clintonite, I got a big kick out of that.
After a lovely time wandering the paths, taking photos, and saying "hello, hello" to children who were prompted to talk to the nice foreign lady by parents and grandparents proud of their progeny's English skill, I decided to watch the sunset from one of the peaks. Logically, I chose to follow the sign that said scenic lookout pagoda. Sounds good. I huffed and puffed up the steep path, surprising a millipede around one turn - they are really disgusting in person by the way. I finally reached the top to find that the pagoda was surrounded by foliage. There was not a chance of seeing the sunset from there. Drat! I climbed back down and only then did I notice the perfect viewing platform at the top of the next peak. Nope. I decided that there would be other sunsets and that I could enjoy this one from the Flower Bridge instead.
I left the park and wandered out into a city seething with rush hour traffic. I will never get over the fact that in China, rush hour means bicycles. Huge hordes of bicycles backed up for city blocks. Amazing. There are plenty of cars and trucks as well, but most people get around on two wheeled devices - some motorized, some not. I fought my way back to the bridge over the Li River and spent a little time playing with a Hui baby and buying chestnut candy from her father. Interesting. Then, it was back to the market for dinner and an internet cafe, then to the hostel for sleep. I had to be up and ready to go at 8am for my Li River cruise, so it was early to bed for me.
I only had that one day and night in Guilin, but it was lovely. Maybe I just did all that there is to do in the city and thus would have been bored to tears by another day or two there, but honestly, I wouldn't have minded staying. There still seemed to be lots to do there, not least a trip to the rice terraces. Best of all, it was close to good food; there were no cockroaches; and people weren't constantly trying to cheat me. Oops, I'm getting a little ahead of myself. Read my next entry to find my opinion of the great tourist Mecca of Yangshuo.
For the pics, see http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/GuilinYangshuo
I arrived in Guilin with this preformed opinion, courtesy of the backpacker's Bible. Thus, I was pleasantly surprised by what I found. First, the airport shuttle was a dream. It dropped us off near the train station, from whence I was easily able to catch a cab to my hostel. I only had to try 2 cabbies before getting one to go by the meter instead of trying to set an inflated price in advance, and he only took a couple of minor detours on the way there to boost the metered price, equaling maybe an extra quai. That's the best experience I've had with cabs in China.
At my hostel, I was checked in to a charming dorm room for my one night in Guilin. There, I discovered one of the interesting power saving ideas in China. All hostels that I've been to in the south issue a magnetic key card to get into your room. This key card must then be inserted into a slot by the door (inside the room) before the lights will activate. This effectively prevents people from leaving lights and air conditioners activated when they've gone out for the day. That, or they have to leave their key behind. Great idea.
I dumped my bag and then headed out to find sustenance. I was in search of Rosemary's Cafe, supplier of the city's finest Western food, according to LP. Well, the authors of LP might believe that the pinnacle of Western culinary art was reached with the invention of the frozen pizza, but I'd have to disagree. I finished my soggy mess of a "pizza" and then went wandering around a bit. There was a charming covered market area quite near to my hostel that was very entertaining, and then I stumbled on a massage storefront. I decided that I did have some time to spare for a quick 90 minute foot and shoulder massage.
Oh my. That was my first real foot massage and I am an addict. It was incredible. The shoulder massage was OK, but the foot massage!!! Wow. First, I had a foot bath with mineral salts. Then, each foot was in turn rubbed with warming lotion firmly (almost painfully) massaged, with special attention to the main pressure points that supposedly connect to my kidneys, etc. I could feel my arches perking up. After so much walking, quite often while carrying a 30 pound pack, it was heaven. Then, when I thought we were done, she applied a foot and calf mud mask! Crazy. I must admit that when it came off, my feet were very soft. :)
After my little interlude at the foot spa, I went down to the Li river. There, I watched people swimming, fishing, and bathing. It was so hot that I was quite tempted to grab my swim suit and join in. Then, I took a closer look at the film of scum and detritus floating on the water, and decided to vicariously enjoy the river. I crossed a bridge to the other bank and continued on to Qixing Gongyuan (Seven Star park), one of Guilin's nicest spots. The park is named after the seven peaks it contains which form a pattern resembling the big dipper. It is 297 acres of parkland containing streams, bridges, pagodas, caves, a zoo, and numerous scenic areas. I really really loved it. My favorite was the peak that looks like a dromedary camel from one side and a bactrian camel from the other. Amazing! Best of all, on the bactrian side, there's a huge plaque saying that Bill Clinton gave a speech at that site. As a loyal Clintonite, I got a big kick out of that.
After a lovely time wandering the paths, taking photos, and saying "hello, hello" to children who were prompted to talk to the nice foreign lady by parents and grandparents proud of their progeny's English skill, I decided to watch the sunset from one of the peaks. Logically, I chose to follow the sign that said scenic lookout pagoda. Sounds good. I huffed and puffed up the steep path, surprising a millipede around one turn - they are really disgusting in person by the way. I finally reached the top to find that the pagoda was surrounded by foliage. There was not a chance of seeing the sunset from there. Drat! I climbed back down and only then did I notice the perfect viewing platform at the top of the next peak. Nope. I decided that there would be other sunsets and that I could enjoy this one from the Flower Bridge instead.
I left the park and wandered out into a city seething with rush hour traffic. I will never get over the fact that in China, rush hour means bicycles. Huge hordes of bicycles backed up for city blocks. Amazing. There are plenty of cars and trucks as well, but most people get around on two wheeled devices - some motorized, some not. I fought my way back to the bridge over the Li River and spent a little time playing with a Hui baby and buying chestnut candy from her father. Interesting. Then, it was back to the market for dinner and an internet cafe, then to the hostel for sleep. I had to be up and ready to go at 8am for my Li River cruise, so it was early to bed for me.
I only had that one day and night in Guilin, but it was lovely. Maybe I just did all that there is to do in the city and thus would have been bored to tears by another day or two there, but honestly, I wouldn't have minded staying. There still seemed to be lots to do there, not least a trip to the rice terraces. Best of all, it was close to good food; there were no cockroaches; and people weren't constantly trying to cheat me. Oops, I'm getting a little ahead of myself. Read my next entry to find my opinion of the great tourist Mecca of Yangshuo.
For the pics, see http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/GuilinYangshuo
Saturday, September 15, 2007
The Leshan Buddha and some Weighty News
Dafo, the great stone Buddha at the convergence of the Min, Qingyi, and Dadu rivers in Leshan is largest remaining Buddha statue in the world, now that the Taliban destroyed Afghanistan's giant Buddhas. He stands 71 meters high, and has shoulders as wide as a basketball court. The statue was begun in 713, and work ended in 803 CE. This 90 year long project included a highly sophisticated drainage system that has allowed Dafo to remain in such excellent condition for 1200 years. The statue was built in the hope that the Buddha would calm the river and prevent fatal boating accidents. Oddly enough, it worked, though only because the rubble from the massive carving filled in the river bed, slowing the course of the rivers near Leshan. The project was initiated by a monk called Hai Tong who reportedly gouged out an eye rather than surrender the funds he'd raised to pay for the Buddha to government officials.
I began my path toward enlightenment at 9am at the hostel. There, I, along with Maria (Budapest); Tim (Australia); Marisa (Netherlands); and Claudia (Florida)boarded a hostel minibus out to Leshan. The drive took 3 hours and passed in painfully cramped positions due to the true mini-sized-bus' lack of leg room. We arrived at the site at noon and arranged to meet our driver at 3:30pm for the ride back to town.
First, we took the boat ride past the Buddha. Supposedly, it's possible to get a local fisherman to take you there for 1 yuan and an enhanced experience. When we got there, there was a dearth of fishermen and a queue to buy 50 y tickets for the cruise ship. We joined the queue and made the most of our position at the railing to see the Buddha. The best views are from the river, and he really is an amazing feat. Speaking of feet, I love his toes!!! They are humongous, as tall as a Westerner. So adorable!
After the boat, we decided that we really had to still make the climb down and around and up the other side of the statue. A trip to Leshan wouldn't be complete without that experience. First though, we stopped in one of the temples and took oodles of pictures and continued our quest for enlightenment. I took a step along the path right off of one of the temple steps when a Chinese man shoved me off the stair in his effort to pass me. I must say that though I know he is only an illusion, that illusion has pretty solid elbows, and the illusion of the bruise on my knee reminds me of him every day.
From there, we went toward the set of stone steps carved into the cliff. Oops, I guess that we shouldn't have spent so long in the temple, the line was enormous. We were there at peak time. We got in line at 1:30, and finally got down to the Buddha's feet at 3 o'clock. The intervening time was spent fighting not to be passed by the pushing mass of people behind us. Chinese people in general are very nice. One odd quirk is their disinclination to wait in line. Instead, those who can do it push to the front of the line. They don't give up either. I spent the entire hour and a half fighting the constant shoving of one particular woman. Her favorite trick was to press the entire front of her body against me. Ick! Finally, Marisa came up with the idea of keeping our umbrellas open regardless of whether it was raining or not. These served as effective shields, and we were delivered from queue jumpers.
Eventually, we'd climbed down all of the stairs and were standing between the legs of the Buddha. It was worth it. Barely, but worth it. The wait, the struggle, they were all just bumps along the 8-fold path.
After all of that striving, once we achieved the Buddha, the only thing left was to climb back up the cliff and rendezvous with our driver. It was a little past 3:30, closer to 4, and none of us had eaten since breakfast. We'd been too busy, and then there wasn't anything to eat. We unanimously asked the driver to please stop at a restaurant. He vetoed us. I'm not quite sure why. We returned to the hostel at 6pm without having eaten since 8am. We were ravenous.
Tim declined to join us (he wanted a massage instead), but the rest of us headed out in search of food. When I'd visited the Wenshu monastery the previous day, I'd seen a sign that said the restaurant was open 'til 7:30pm. Lonely Planet disagreed, but I was going with the sign. We got there, found the open side gate with a monk to take our 5 yuan entrance fee. We even found a helpful nun from the nearby Buddhist convent who verified that the restaurant was open. What we didn't find was an open restaurant. They'd closed early that night. I've no clue why, but they did. We spent another hour fruitlessly roaming the district, finding only fancy tourist restaurants specializing in frog legs and pig's feet, or grotty looking noodle shops that none of us felt like patronizing. Eventually, we lucked onto another vegetarian restaurant. Amazing. Of course, the food there was not nearly as delicious as the monastery food, since they were serving just tourists, not a combination of holy monks and tourists. It was still good. We tried a wide variety of dishes and enjoyed about 30% of them. The rest were 'interesting'.
After dinner, on our way out of the restaurant, we encountered a scale. Just for the hell of it, I stepped on. People who've commented that I look thinner in my photos are quite perspicacious. I've lost 15 pounds. Crap! I knew that my clothes were loose, but I had no idea how much weight I'd lost. I've found the perfect weight loss diet. First, ride the TransMongolian train as a vegetarian. Second, hike all day, barely eating anything for weeks on end. Third, regularly eat food that you don't particularly like so that you don't eat very much of it.
I now have permission to eat as much ice cream as I want!
That night, Marisa and I spent some time hanging out, then I needed to pack my bag to be ready for my flight to Guilin. Jasper and Pauline (the people who'd booked the airport shuttle) were booked on the same flight out, so we planned to share a cab in the morning. Funny traveller coinky dink. I had a wonderful time in Chengdu, despite rain and starvation. I recommend it highly if you find yourself in this part of the world. Thank you, Mix Hostel!
You can find my Chengdu/Leshan photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/PandasOhAndTheWorldSLargestBuddha and a special addition panda album at http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/PandaFlipbook
I began my path toward enlightenment at 9am at the hostel. There, I, along with Maria (Budapest); Tim (Australia); Marisa (Netherlands); and Claudia (Florida)boarded a hostel minibus out to Leshan. The drive took 3 hours and passed in painfully cramped positions due to the true mini-sized-bus' lack of leg room. We arrived at the site at noon and arranged to meet our driver at 3:30pm for the ride back to town.
First, we took the boat ride past the Buddha. Supposedly, it's possible to get a local fisherman to take you there for 1 yuan and an enhanced experience. When we got there, there was a dearth of fishermen and a queue to buy 50 y tickets for the cruise ship. We joined the queue and made the most of our position at the railing to see the Buddha. The best views are from the river, and he really is an amazing feat. Speaking of feet, I love his toes!!! They are humongous, as tall as a Westerner. So adorable!
After the boat, we decided that we really had to still make the climb down and around and up the other side of the statue. A trip to Leshan wouldn't be complete without that experience. First though, we stopped in one of the temples and took oodles of pictures and continued our quest for enlightenment. I took a step along the path right off of one of the temple steps when a Chinese man shoved me off the stair in his effort to pass me. I must say that though I know he is only an illusion, that illusion has pretty solid elbows, and the illusion of the bruise on my knee reminds me of him every day.
From there, we went toward the set of stone steps carved into the cliff. Oops, I guess that we shouldn't have spent so long in the temple, the line was enormous. We were there at peak time. We got in line at 1:30, and finally got down to the Buddha's feet at 3 o'clock. The intervening time was spent fighting not to be passed by the pushing mass of people behind us. Chinese people in general are very nice. One odd quirk is their disinclination to wait in line. Instead, those who can do it push to the front of the line. They don't give up either. I spent the entire hour and a half fighting the constant shoving of one particular woman. Her favorite trick was to press the entire front of her body against me. Ick! Finally, Marisa came up with the idea of keeping our umbrellas open regardless of whether it was raining or not. These served as effective shields, and we were delivered from queue jumpers.
Eventually, we'd climbed down all of the stairs and were standing between the legs of the Buddha. It was worth it. Barely, but worth it. The wait, the struggle, they were all just bumps along the 8-fold path.
After all of that striving, once we achieved the Buddha, the only thing left was to climb back up the cliff and rendezvous with our driver. It was a little past 3:30, closer to 4, and none of us had eaten since breakfast. We'd been too busy, and then there wasn't anything to eat. We unanimously asked the driver to please stop at a restaurant. He vetoed us. I'm not quite sure why. We returned to the hostel at 6pm without having eaten since 8am. We were ravenous.
Tim declined to join us (he wanted a massage instead), but the rest of us headed out in search of food. When I'd visited the Wenshu monastery the previous day, I'd seen a sign that said the restaurant was open 'til 7:30pm. Lonely Planet disagreed, but I was going with the sign. We got there, found the open side gate with a monk to take our 5 yuan entrance fee. We even found a helpful nun from the nearby Buddhist convent who verified that the restaurant was open. What we didn't find was an open restaurant. They'd closed early that night. I've no clue why, but they did. We spent another hour fruitlessly roaming the district, finding only fancy tourist restaurants specializing in frog legs and pig's feet, or grotty looking noodle shops that none of us felt like patronizing. Eventually, we lucked onto another vegetarian restaurant. Amazing. Of course, the food there was not nearly as delicious as the monastery food, since they were serving just tourists, not a combination of holy monks and tourists. It was still good. We tried a wide variety of dishes and enjoyed about 30% of them. The rest were 'interesting'.
After dinner, on our way out of the restaurant, we encountered a scale. Just for the hell of it, I stepped on. People who've commented that I look thinner in my photos are quite perspicacious. I've lost 15 pounds. Crap! I knew that my clothes were loose, but I had no idea how much weight I'd lost. I've found the perfect weight loss diet. First, ride the TransMongolian train as a vegetarian. Second, hike all day, barely eating anything for weeks on end. Third, regularly eat food that you don't particularly like so that you don't eat very much of it.
I now have permission to eat as much ice cream as I want!
That night, Marisa and I spent some time hanging out, then I needed to pack my bag to be ready for my flight to Guilin. Jasper and Pauline (the people who'd booked the airport shuttle) were booked on the same flight out, so we planned to share a cab in the morning. Funny traveller coinky dink. I had a wonderful time in Chengdu, despite rain and starvation. I recommend it highly if you find yourself in this part of the world. Thank you, Mix Hostel!
You can find my Chengdu/Leshan photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/PandasOhAndTheWorldSLargestBuddha and a special addition panda album at http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/PandaFlipbook
Changing my luck through the power of the Panda
My flight to Chengdu was uneventful. Though I still would have preferred to have taken the train and seen the scenery, I have to admit that it is pleasant to board a plane, and cover in a little over one hour what it would have taken me 16 hours to traverse by train. I even had no problem claiming my window seat! Best of all, after I'd picked up my bag, I literally ran into a man holding a sign that said Mix Hostel. I had been planning to take the airport shuttle and then have the joy of trying to get a cab driver to understand my mangled Chinese to get me to the hostel. Instead, I took advantage of the foresight of Jasper and Pauline, who had actually arranged for airport pickup, and hitched a 20y ride in the hostel minibus. Perfect! Clearly, all that was required by fate was that I leave Xi'an.
At the hostel, I booked my Panda Breeding Center tour, showered, did laundry, ate a huge mound of vegetable fried rice, watched a couple of minutes of Shrek III in English with (I kid you not) Chinglish subtitles, and luxuriated in my first private room of the trip. Ahh, blessed privacy. Silence, security, the ability to sleep knowing that no one is watching me drool. All in all, it was one of the best afternoons of my trip. It's funny how after a month of traveling, what I appreciate the most has shifted from seeing some fabulous UNESCO World Heritage site to washing my clothes in a real washing machine. Priorities.
After a rare 8 hours of sleep, I got up at 6:30am to prepare for our 7:30 trip out to see the pandas. Feeding time is at 9am, and as it is the only point in the day when the pandas will move at all, we didn't want to miss it. Somehow, the rain in Xi'an had followed me to Chengdu, but with the purchase of a 10 yuan umbrella and the attitude of an intrepid explorer, the kind not bothered by a little damp (or drench as the case may be), I set off to see some panda bears.
Fortunately, pandas are far too lazy to be all that bothered by a little rain. An animal that is too lazy to breed really doesn't worry too much about sleeping in a puddle. In all, including the newborns, I saw 11 pandas during my time at the breeding center. This included two newborns (the "season of love" aka artificial insemination was in May), 2 kindergartners, 1 cub, 3 subadults, and 3 adults. After watching these huge cuddly sweethearts, I have to agree with the Chinese government that the giant panda really is the "National Treasure". I went away from the center with an ear to ear grin despite the rain and the lack of photo op for the day. Normally, one can pay about $60 to get a picture taken with an adult giant panda. The day before I went, it was canceled because the pandas had just had shots and were agitated; and the day that I was there, it was canceled due to the rain. So, I can't speak from personal experience as to the viability of the panda photo, but I have seen other people's photos, so I know that it can be done!
We got back from seeing the cuddly creatures at 11. I also really appreciated that they didn't drag it out into a full day tour, like the terracotta tour in Xi'an. Though, where would they have taken us for the factory section? A genetics lab?
After getting dropped at the hostel, I set straight off for the Wenshu monastery (one of the top four zen monasteries) and its Buddhist vegetarian restaurant. Oh my buddha! It was amazing. Hundreds of choices. I wanted to try them all but settled for three wonderful dishes and a glass of gooseberry juice that blended the flavors perfectly and had herbs to aid digestion. Mostly, eating Chinese food day in and day out has reminded me of why I usually only eat Chinese once a month or so. I don't really like it. This meal made me realize that Chinese cuisine really is amazing, the fact is that most fine chefs don't waste their true abilities on tourists. I'm sticking to the monasteries from now on!
After the best meal that I've had in China, I ambled home via the grocery store and then along the river. I love shopping in China. Things are so odd. For example, the grocery store is called TrustMart and is pretty much a Walmart. It's in a 3-story building and in no way resembles a grocery store. At street level, all you see are jewelry and shoe booths inside the building. However, if you penetrate further into the building, you'll find a second entrance in to the grocery section. The fruit is abundant, though I walked quickly past the durian. The bread is a blessing. Western travellers are unanimous in missing bread the most. I miss real whole grain bread. Even the wheat bread here has the texture of white bread at home. Seeing the food that a people buys is as valid a sightseeing adventure as is seeing a monument made 2000 years ago. Even more fun was heading upstairs to the dry goods area. I regretfully decided that the shipping on that duvet cover was going to be too much, looked over the really nice electronics section, and headed back for toiletries. There, I learned that all Chinese face creams seem to have bleach in them - white is in - yet it's very hard to find a day cream with sun screen. Strange. Odder yet is the complete lack of availability of an antiperspirant. There are deoderants. Roll-on liquid deoderants. Ones with the scent of roses, oranges, or mango. Somehow, I've never imagined myself with mango scented underarms. I settled for "fresh scent" and rued the stick deoderant that I'd left at home.
Shopping done, I headed by the Bank of China to find that my ATM card still wasn't working. Then, I settled into my private room to enjoy Diana Wynne Jones' sequel to Howl's Moving Castle which I'd found in the hostel book exchange. Do you know how hard to find that book is??? I swear, hostel book exchanges have the best books. Mostly 'cause they've been left to sit for years on end. No one will ever throw one out, in the hope that someday, some crazy foreigner will buy the shredded up book. This practice also preserves some real gems.
After finishing my book, I watched some Chinese soap opera with two fellow single female travellers, and booked my ride out to the Leshan Buddha for the next day. The soap was set during the revolutionary war. It was interesting to see what's considered romantic in China.
Then, Christine was tucked all snug in her beds (I had 2 twin beds in my room) while visions of panda bears danced in her head.
You can find my Chengdu/Leshan photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/PandasOhAndTheWorldSLargestBuddha and a special addition panda album at http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/PandaFlipbook
At the hostel, I booked my Panda Breeding Center tour, showered, did laundry, ate a huge mound of vegetable fried rice, watched a couple of minutes of Shrek III in English with (I kid you not) Chinglish subtitles, and luxuriated in my first private room of the trip. Ahh, blessed privacy. Silence, security, the ability to sleep knowing that no one is watching me drool. All in all, it was one of the best afternoons of my trip. It's funny how after a month of traveling, what I appreciate the most has shifted from seeing some fabulous UNESCO World Heritage site to washing my clothes in a real washing machine. Priorities.
After a rare 8 hours of sleep, I got up at 6:30am to prepare for our 7:30 trip out to see the pandas. Feeding time is at 9am, and as it is the only point in the day when the pandas will move at all, we didn't want to miss it. Somehow, the rain in Xi'an had followed me to Chengdu, but with the purchase of a 10 yuan umbrella and the attitude of an intrepid explorer, the kind not bothered by a little damp (or drench as the case may be), I set off to see some panda bears.
Fortunately, pandas are far too lazy to be all that bothered by a little rain. An animal that is too lazy to breed really doesn't worry too much about sleeping in a puddle. In all, including the newborns, I saw 11 pandas during my time at the breeding center. This included two newborns (the "season of love" aka artificial insemination was in May), 2 kindergartners, 1 cub, 3 subadults, and 3 adults. After watching these huge cuddly sweethearts, I have to agree with the Chinese government that the giant panda really is the "National Treasure". I went away from the center with an ear to ear grin despite the rain and the lack of photo op for the day. Normally, one can pay about $60 to get a picture taken with an adult giant panda. The day before I went, it was canceled because the pandas had just had shots and were agitated; and the day that I was there, it was canceled due to the rain. So, I can't speak from personal experience as to the viability of the panda photo, but I have seen other people's photos, so I know that it can be done!
We got back from seeing the cuddly creatures at 11. I also really appreciated that they didn't drag it out into a full day tour, like the terracotta tour in Xi'an. Though, where would they have taken us for the factory section? A genetics lab?
After getting dropped at the hostel, I set straight off for the Wenshu monastery (one of the top four zen monasteries) and its Buddhist vegetarian restaurant. Oh my buddha! It was amazing. Hundreds of choices. I wanted to try them all but settled for three wonderful dishes and a glass of gooseberry juice that blended the flavors perfectly and had herbs to aid digestion. Mostly, eating Chinese food day in and day out has reminded me of why I usually only eat Chinese once a month or so. I don't really like it. This meal made me realize that Chinese cuisine really is amazing, the fact is that most fine chefs don't waste their true abilities on tourists. I'm sticking to the monasteries from now on!
After the best meal that I've had in China, I ambled home via the grocery store and then along the river. I love shopping in China. Things are so odd. For example, the grocery store is called TrustMart and is pretty much a Walmart. It's in a 3-story building and in no way resembles a grocery store. At street level, all you see are jewelry and shoe booths inside the building. However, if you penetrate further into the building, you'll find a second entrance in to the grocery section. The fruit is abundant, though I walked quickly past the durian. The bread is a blessing. Western travellers are unanimous in missing bread the most. I miss real whole grain bread. Even the wheat bread here has the texture of white bread at home. Seeing the food that a people buys is as valid a sightseeing adventure as is seeing a monument made 2000 years ago. Even more fun was heading upstairs to the dry goods area. I regretfully decided that the shipping on that duvet cover was going to be too much, looked over the really nice electronics section, and headed back for toiletries. There, I learned that all Chinese face creams seem to have bleach in them - white is in - yet it's very hard to find a day cream with sun screen. Strange. Odder yet is the complete lack of availability of an antiperspirant. There are deoderants. Roll-on liquid deoderants. Ones with the scent of roses, oranges, or mango. Somehow, I've never imagined myself with mango scented underarms. I settled for "fresh scent" and rued the stick deoderant that I'd left at home.
Shopping done, I headed by the Bank of China to find that my ATM card still wasn't working. Then, I settled into my private room to enjoy Diana Wynne Jones' sequel to Howl's Moving Castle which I'd found in the hostel book exchange. Do you know how hard to find that book is??? I swear, hostel book exchanges have the best books. Mostly 'cause they've been left to sit for years on end. No one will ever throw one out, in the hope that someday, some crazy foreigner will buy the shredded up book. This practice also preserves some real gems.
After finishing my book, I watched some Chinese soap opera with two fellow single female travellers, and booked my ride out to the Leshan Buddha for the next day. The soap was set during the revolutionary war. It was interesting to see what's considered romantic in China.
Then, Christine was tucked all snug in her beds (I had 2 twin beds in my room) while visions of panda bears danced in her head.
You can find my Chengdu/Leshan photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/PandasOhAndTheWorldSLargestBuddha and a special addition panda album at http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/PandaFlipbook
Friday, September 14, 2007
Hua Shan and the Great Disaster
Hua Shan is one of China's five holy Taoist mountains. It is made up of North, South, East, West and Central peaks of varying heights - all around 2,000m. It's about a 2-hour drive outside of Xi'an. Sounds good right?
Well, I followed the Bible's advice (backpackers refer to the Lonely Planet guide as the Bible) and went to the train station to catch a minibus to the mountain. I succeeded in finding the right bus, with the right characters in the window, and an English boy loitering nearby. Great! Then, the English boy told me that he had been there for an hour and a half. At one point, there had been 10 people assembled who all wanted to go to Hua Shan. The driver wouldn't go without 20 people. Period. It didn't seem to bother him in the slightest that this meant it was likely that he wouldn't make any money that day. He was happy sitting in the shade of his van, smoking cigarettes. After waiting for an hour, everyone but the Brit boy left, yelling at the driver as they decamped.
I'd been there for about 15 minutes when a group of 3 more tourists showed up. We were now: Christine (30, US); Michael (18, UK); Barbara (27, US); Kristof (21, Germany); and Alon (21, Israel). Kristof had been in China for a year studying the language and after some group discussion and 20 minutes of fruitless waiting, he went off to research: trains, taxis, and private minibuses. In the end, he found a minibus that would hold 7 and cost 350. Now, we needed 2 more people. Kristof went into the bus and came out with a young Chinese couple who also were tired of waiting for the world's laziest bus driver. By then, there were 11 people waiting to go to Hua Shan, but the driver didn't seem bothered in the slightest to be losing another set of customers. I did feel bad for the 4 people left waiting to be joined by 16 others.
The drive was fine, passed in general discussion. I think that most young backpackers get a huge kick out of being able to be a temporary expert on their country. The information exchanged in these chats is suspect, but it's still fun to hear someone else's worldview. At the site, we were dropped off at the Western entrance, to climb the mountain. First though, the Chinese couple invited us to lunch. Hah! Another life goal crossed off of the list. I have been invited out to eat in China. There was loads of food and tea. Many vegetarian options. I also learned that it's considered rude to stick your chopsticks in a bowl of rice. Who knew?
With heavy bellies, we set off to be holy seekers after wisdom. The first hour or two was a nice, gentle, easy ascent on a paved road on the side of a stream that became a gorge. There were plenty of shops/cafes along the way, each of which had its own dog or cat. There were also temples, caves, and other points of interest. Then, we slowed down. Barbara is quite petite (short legs) and a smoker, so she did not move very fast. The delay at the station and then our banquet had pushed us back so that we'd only started at 4. There was no question, we'd be hiking at night. Not to worry though, many locals prefer to walk at night, starting at around 11pm and arriving in time for the sunrise.
The path became steeper. Stairs and stairs and temples and more stairs. We made it to the north peak. It was around 8 and fully dark and we decided that we all (Barbara voted with the group) felt like continuing on. We made for the Central Peak as the closest hostel site. After 2 and a half hours in which we went up stairs so steep and treacherous that we had to use all four limbs to ascend them, and many smoke breaks for B, we arrived at the hostel to find it no longer operating as a place of rest. It was 10:30 and we were no longer feeling quite so perky. We trudge off to the East Peak, hitting even steeper stairs along the way. Luckily, all of the stairs had chain railings to hold onto during the climb.
We finally made the peak. Of course, we'd been aiming for a hostel, not the peak. Obeying the "no jumping" sign at the top, we all collapsed and waited for Kristof to go find the hostel and report back. He really got a huge kick out of being the go-to guy. He wouldn't allow anyone except our Chinese friend to accompany him. Anyway, they found the temple/hostel and we arrived, had dried noodles, and were all asleep by one o'clock.
This was quite late considering that the main thing that one climbs a Taoist mountain to do is watch the sunrise. Sunrise was at 6am in early to mid-September. We got up at 5:30, had a wet wipe bath or not as each individual preferred, and headed back to the peak.
There are 4 factories grouped around Hua Shan. This results in a permanent haze around the base of the mountain. This made for a slightly disappointing sunrise. It was beautiful - I was thrilled to be there experiencing that moment, but man, as sunrises go, that one was a dud. I did get some great cloud pictures though, so all was not lost.
After the main event, we settled in for a breakfast of crackers, mooncakes, and dried kiwi. The discussion turned to a blanket condemnation of the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) and Michael started raving about political prisoners. Yes, you're supposed to be passionate when you're 18. No, you're not expected to be precisely well-informed. It was still incredibly boring to listen to at 30. I've had those discussions. They were about the Middle East, but same difference. I found that I had no desire to engage and instead, I bid adieu to my chums of the climb. I was heading back early anyway to catch my 8pm train from Xi'an. They planned to stay all day, hiking and possibly staying another night, so we would have separated soon in any case.
Within 10 minutes, I'd found a toilet and a cup of coffee, decision affirmed. I made it down to the north peak, and lingered there, climbing the whale at the top of the peak and posing for pictures. I really wonder what people are going to do with all of those pictures of me. Then, I took the cable car back down the mountain, arriving at the eastern entrance. From there, I got the shuttle bus to the visitor's center, took a taxi to the Xi'an bus location, caught the bus going to Xi'an and snoozed for an hour and a half while being stared at by a local farmer who found my every breath fascinating. The other bus riders were much more polite about staring, and snuck peeks when they thought I wasn't looking.
The bus let us off somewhere in the north of Xi'an. As far as I know, it was nowhere near the train station, my only landmark. I wandered. I tried my bank card, to find that my account was still frozen (questionable activity). I found a woman who spoke English who found a bus for me that went to the South Gate which was where my hostel was located (oh yeah, central Xi'an has city walls, with cardinal gates and streets).
My afternoon was a bit trying, especially on such a limited amount of sleep. OK, back at the hostel, I showered, talked to Greg, went online to make sure that the world hadn't ended, and then, at 4 o'clock, went to pick up my train ticket. I'd booked through the hostel and they hadn't received the ticket until the night before. Since I was hiking the mountain, they held it for me along with my pack. When I asked for my ticket, the girl at the counter located it, looked at it, asked me what time I was supposed to be going, and then started screaming in Chinese to her associates. Finally, she turned to me as said, "I think you'd better hurry!"
"Why, what time is the ticket for?"
"2:30!"
"Umm, then there's no point in my hurrying, is there?"
"Oh."
"What do you suggest that I do? I booked an 8pm soft sleeper, here's my receipt."
It turned out that there were no sleeper train tickets to be had for the next three days. The girl tried to convince me to buy a hard seat ticket and upgrade on the train. Hah! No one can upgrade on the train. It's a myth created to get annoying tourists out of travel agent's hair. I've spoken to quite a number of travelers who've been told to upgrade on the train only to spend 20 hours sitting in a seat in a carriage filled with Chinese people staring at the crazy foreigner who doesn't know enough to get a sleeper ticket. I declined the hard seat and asked what my options were, emphasizing that this was their fault.
In the end, I got a plane ticket for the morning, using my deposit for the train ticket toward that, and a comped dorm bed for the night. I tried for a single, but the best that I could do was a dorm. I quietly stated, repeatedly I'm afraid, "I am not happy." That was my experience with Shuyuan Hostel. I'm afraid that I absolutely would not recommend it to anyone. Crappy rooms, awful tours, and inept travel booking services.
I slept, felt a little better in the morning, had a big breakfast, and set off to reboard the airport shuttle and head off to Chengdu. Hopefully, a change of scenery will change my luck.
For my pics of Xi'an, please visit http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/XiAn
Well, I followed the Bible's advice (backpackers refer to the Lonely Planet guide as the Bible) and went to the train station to catch a minibus to the mountain. I succeeded in finding the right bus, with the right characters in the window, and an English boy loitering nearby. Great! Then, the English boy told me that he had been there for an hour and a half. At one point, there had been 10 people assembled who all wanted to go to Hua Shan. The driver wouldn't go without 20 people. Period. It didn't seem to bother him in the slightest that this meant it was likely that he wouldn't make any money that day. He was happy sitting in the shade of his van, smoking cigarettes. After waiting for an hour, everyone but the Brit boy left, yelling at the driver as they decamped.
I'd been there for about 15 minutes when a group of 3 more tourists showed up. We were now: Christine (30, US); Michael (18, UK); Barbara (27, US); Kristof (21, Germany); and Alon (21, Israel). Kristof had been in China for a year studying the language and after some group discussion and 20 minutes of fruitless waiting, he went off to research: trains, taxis, and private minibuses. In the end, he found a minibus that would hold 7 and cost 350. Now, we needed 2 more people. Kristof went into the bus and came out with a young Chinese couple who also were tired of waiting for the world's laziest bus driver. By then, there were 11 people waiting to go to Hua Shan, but the driver didn't seem bothered in the slightest to be losing another set of customers. I did feel bad for the 4 people left waiting to be joined by 16 others.
The drive was fine, passed in general discussion. I think that most young backpackers get a huge kick out of being able to be a temporary expert on their country. The information exchanged in these chats is suspect, but it's still fun to hear someone else's worldview. At the site, we were dropped off at the Western entrance, to climb the mountain. First though, the Chinese couple invited us to lunch. Hah! Another life goal crossed off of the list. I have been invited out to eat in China. There was loads of food and tea. Many vegetarian options. I also learned that it's considered rude to stick your chopsticks in a bowl of rice. Who knew?
With heavy bellies, we set off to be holy seekers after wisdom. The first hour or two was a nice, gentle, easy ascent on a paved road on the side of a stream that became a gorge. There were plenty of shops/cafes along the way, each of which had its own dog or cat. There were also temples, caves, and other points of interest. Then, we slowed down. Barbara is quite petite (short legs) and a smoker, so she did not move very fast. The delay at the station and then our banquet had pushed us back so that we'd only started at 4. There was no question, we'd be hiking at night. Not to worry though, many locals prefer to walk at night, starting at around 11pm and arriving in time for the sunrise.
The path became steeper. Stairs and stairs and temples and more stairs. We made it to the north peak. It was around 8 and fully dark and we decided that we all (Barbara voted with the group) felt like continuing on. We made for the Central Peak as the closest hostel site. After 2 and a half hours in which we went up stairs so steep and treacherous that we had to use all four limbs to ascend them, and many smoke breaks for B, we arrived at the hostel to find it no longer operating as a place of rest. It was 10:30 and we were no longer feeling quite so perky. We trudge off to the East Peak, hitting even steeper stairs along the way. Luckily, all of the stairs had chain railings to hold onto during the climb.
We finally made the peak. Of course, we'd been aiming for a hostel, not the peak. Obeying the "no jumping" sign at the top, we all collapsed and waited for Kristof to go find the hostel and report back. He really got a huge kick out of being the go-to guy. He wouldn't allow anyone except our Chinese friend to accompany him. Anyway, they found the temple/hostel and we arrived, had dried noodles, and were all asleep by one o'clock.
This was quite late considering that the main thing that one climbs a Taoist mountain to do is watch the sunrise. Sunrise was at 6am in early to mid-September. We got up at 5:30, had a wet wipe bath or not as each individual preferred, and headed back to the peak.
There are 4 factories grouped around Hua Shan. This results in a permanent haze around the base of the mountain. This made for a slightly disappointing sunrise. It was beautiful - I was thrilled to be there experiencing that moment, but man, as sunrises go, that one was a dud. I did get some great cloud pictures though, so all was not lost.
After the main event, we settled in for a breakfast of crackers, mooncakes, and dried kiwi. The discussion turned to a blanket condemnation of the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) and Michael started raving about political prisoners. Yes, you're supposed to be passionate when you're 18. No, you're not expected to be precisely well-informed. It was still incredibly boring to listen to at 30. I've had those discussions. They were about the Middle East, but same difference. I found that I had no desire to engage and instead, I bid adieu to my chums of the climb. I was heading back early anyway to catch my 8pm train from Xi'an. They planned to stay all day, hiking and possibly staying another night, so we would have separated soon in any case.
Within 10 minutes, I'd found a toilet and a cup of coffee, decision affirmed. I made it down to the north peak, and lingered there, climbing the whale at the top of the peak and posing for pictures. I really wonder what people are going to do with all of those pictures of me. Then, I took the cable car back down the mountain, arriving at the eastern entrance. From there, I got the shuttle bus to the visitor's center, took a taxi to the Xi'an bus location, caught the bus going to Xi'an and snoozed for an hour and a half while being stared at by a local farmer who found my every breath fascinating. The other bus riders were much more polite about staring, and snuck peeks when they thought I wasn't looking.
The bus let us off somewhere in the north of Xi'an. As far as I know, it was nowhere near the train station, my only landmark. I wandered. I tried my bank card, to find that my account was still frozen (questionable activity). I found a woman who spoke English who found a bus for me that went to the South Gate which was where my hostel was located (oh yeah, central Xi'an has city walls, with cardinal gates and streets).
My afternoon was a bit trying, especially on such a limited amount of sleep. OK, back at the hostel, I showered, talked to Greg, went online to make sure that the world hadn't ended, and then, at 4 o'clock, went to pick up my train ticket. I'd booked through the hostel and they hadn't received the ticket until the night before. Since I was hiking the mountain, they held it for me along with my pack. When I asked for my ticket, the girl at the counter located it, looked at it, asked me what time I was supposed to be going, and then started screaming in Chinese to her associates. Finally, she turned to me as said, "I think you'd better hurry!"
"Why, what time is the ticket for?"
"2:30!"
"Umm, then there's no point in my hurrying, is there?"
"Oh."
"What do you suggest that I do? I booked an 8pm soft sleeper, here's my receipt."
It turned out that there were no sleeper train tickets to be had for the next three days. The girl tried to convince me to buy a hard seat ticket and upgrade on the train. Hah! No one can upgrade on the train. It's a myth created to get annoying tourists out of travel agent's hair. I've spoken to quite a number of travelers who've been told to upgrade on the train only to spend 20 hours sitting in a seat in a carriage filled with Chinese people staring at the crazy foreigner who doesn't know enough to get a sleeper ticket. I declined the hard seat and asked what my options were, emphasizing that this was their fault.
In the end, I got a plane ticket for the morning, using my deposit for the train ticket toward that, and a comped dorm bed for the night. I tried for a single, but the best that I could do was a dorm. I quietly stated, repeatedly I'm afraid, "I am not happy." That was my experience with Shuyuan Hostel. I'm afraid that I absolutely would not recommend it to anyone. Crappy rooms, awful tours, and inept travel booking services.
I slept, felt a little better in the morning, had a big breakfast, and set off to reboard the airport shuttle and head off to Chengdu. Hopefully, a change of scenery will change my luck.
For my pics of Xi'an, please visit http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/XiAn
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