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Published: August 15th 2010
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So it was onwards and indeed upwards through China to Gullin, via an unremarkable journey via the cattle market of Guangzhou train station and an overnight train . It was my first experience of a sleeper train in China, and after a day of being the only westerner seemingly in Guangzhou, I was moderately surprised to hear cries of 'Si, si!' as 16 Italian tourists bundled their way into the carriage, and proved to be my companions for the overnight journey.
We crawled into Gullin just before 7am after a fragmented nights sleep, where I cursed packing my ear plugs and buff (a fantastic multi-purpose material that spontaneously becomes a great sleeping mask) at the bottom of my rucksack. Yet another scrum greeted arrivals at the train station, so after trying in vain to find an internet cafe, I happened upon two Polish travellers, Tom and Mateusz, who would become my companions for the next few days. We hopped onto a bus for Yanshuo, and limped along past the unfolding landscape of towering, cliff-like mountains and lucious rice fields. Finally we arrived at our destination, Yangshuo, to a cacophony of noise. "Hello! Taxi? Gullin!? Hostel?? Bamboo?!". These touts, although persistent
rather than aggressive, would provide a mildly humourous accompaniment to ANY tourist experience of the next few days. Nevertheless, how three travellers, plus numerous rucksacks and travel bags, ended up on the back of a motorised rickshaw swerving down the main street to our hotel I will never know. The driver's deranged grin and sporadic rounds of applause from watching pedestrians suggested that perhaps we were record breakers for this type of journey.
Later on in the day a stroll around Yanshuo revealed further it's dramatic location. Pinned in by looming mountains and the Li river, the town is even more spectacular at night when the landscape is illuminated by artificial light, giving the area an eerie feeling of the 'extra-terrestrial'. I also took the opportunity to explore the winding canal-like streets off the main tourist-hub, west street. However although the area comes alive as the night draws in, with pumping base and throbbing crowds, it never feels like the town's integrity is being compromised. This was partly due to the fact that the tourist area is confined to a corner of the town, much like a 'chinatown' would be in the UK. This permanent feeling of China is
also enhanced by the majority of travellers being Chinese, and also a feeling that tourism has actually provided the locals with jobs that would simply have not been available 30 years ago.
I worked my way through the neat markets that line the streets, and proved again that I am the worst haggler in history. At an initial offer of 120 yen for a frankly naff hat, I scoffed at this offer and mistakenly wrote on the lady's pad that I wouldn't entertain an offer of less than 800 yen. There was a brief moment of cultural confusion whilst the astonished lady's draw dropped open, and she pictured the luxurious holiday she was going to take with the 80 pounds that this foolish Englishman was prepared to pay for a straw hat. Luckily I realised my mistake, but still paid probably 70 yen too much at 100!
Over the next few days, the more we explored, the more unique the countryside became as it unfolded in front of our eyes. A stunning bikeride along the Yulong river provided views of bison bathing in mud pools, solemn boatmen pushing their rafts down river and little children chasing chickens through
winding, patchwork villages. The mountains only added to the spectacle, desperate ferns gripping on to the rock face for dear life and the mountains themselves watching, silent, untouched and pensive. This was the China I had longed to see, a China from another age. After a lunch of the local beer fish and a swim at an ancient bridge, we raced against the darkness into even more rural depths. Track became path, which became ricefield edges. Gas lights sporadically flickered into action in village shacks as people settled in for the night. Dusk provided an ideal time for contemplation, as we entered the town's outskirts and back into the real world of neon and horns.
The following days saw a sweaty (yes, no surprise there) 1200 step climb up moon hill, a remarkable crescent naturally carved in the rock. 1 and 1/2 hours? Pah! 17 minutes!! We later visited the local water caves, a spectacular indoor network of caverns, stalactites and water-ways. We rolled in mud baths, relaxed in hot springs and 2 hours later emerged.....into pitch darkness. With no bus in sight. In the middle of nowhere. "Byeeeee.....10 minutes thankyou!" shrieked our guide as he rode off into
the distance on the back of a motorbike. Thankfully, after a nervous 45 minutes waiting amongst the mosquitos, we made it back to civilisation.
As my time in Yanshuo progressed, I became increasingly aware of being a Westerner in a foreign land. Famillies nervously asked for photos with us, cheeky children would yell "how arr u?" and giggle uncontrollably, and touts would continue to see us as walking dollar signs. But it was nice, and yet again confirmed that China was a long, long way from home! I feel rather guilty confessing that I discovered an excellent way to deter the touts was to firmly demand "Boo-ya", accompanied with a stern glare. I have no idea what this means, or indeed if it is offensive, as it was disclosed on the plane by an experienced traveller to China. However it certainly had the desired effect.
Our third day saw a bamboo ride up the river Li from XingPing to Yandgdi. Here, the cliffs became sharper and steeper, and slid into the water. The landscape almost became 'Lord of the Rings' like (although Tom and Mat if you're reading this, I wouldn't dream of saying that this was partly
because you had a touch of the 'Ork' about you). At Yangdi I bid farewell to two great friends I'd made, and the Poles set off back to Yangshuo, whilst I returned to Xingping to spend two nights.
As some of you might be aware, time-keeping isn't neccessarily my forte. In fact, as my leaving present was a watch, it could perhaps be suggested that is indeed a concern. So obviously the ticking clock was the least of my concerns as I had a insightful evening of discussion and political debate over Pizza with two American travellers from Utah . It was halfway through a particularly lively debate on the American reform of healthcare (!) that I glanced at my watch, and realised that it was 11.30. I hurried back to my hotel, and sure enough, darkness, iron bars, the works. I tried gently tapping, firmly banging and then rattling in a panicked and deranged manner. Luckily I ambushed a startled passer-by to help, and we tried every phone number we could think of....after what seemed like hours, a personal call was made and a weary (and evidently annoyed) owner was raised from his bed, and let me in,
to cries of 'Tseh, Tsheh' (thankyou, thankyou to the unitiated). as I rushed past him. Luckily, my frenetic banging had at least summoned a welcome party into my room, and the gathered mosquitos, spiders and cockroaches proved very UNwelcome room guests.
My last day in the region involved a walk through the mountains to a local fishing village, offering great views of the river and countryside. As I made my way into the village, I did my best haggling to date. As I walked away and assured the lady that 'thankyou very much but I don't need a bamboo ride just yet', she thought that I was giving it the 'hard sell'. Every 'boo-ya', knocked 10 yuen off the initial 120, until at 40 yuen, yes please!! She also accompanied me throughout the village showing me local houses, and also remarkably a quaint rooftop, where photos showed me that none other than Bill Clinton had also been a recent visitor!
Another bamboo ride took me back to XingPing, complete with stunning sunset, a swim and a delectable lemon chicken dinner. What better way to finish a remarkable week in a remarkable province?
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jojo
non-member comment
great photos
you're a star ..keep it going with great photos, what's a bamboo ride?