Tulous, train travel, and the tackiness of tourism

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Bright and early on Thursday we caught a bus to Yongding, a town in interior Fujian. The bus trip ended up being about two and a half hours, so we were in Hukeng Village by taxi early. We met some locals who offered us a room in their tulou right away, so we were able to drop off our bags in our very basic accommodations and get something to eat. Our tulou was falling apart in places, with one entire section of wall crumbling. Only half of the circle was inhabited, but it was convenient, close to the restaurants and the bus station, and it was quiet. Instead of exploring Hukeng Village, which is famous for its tulous but costs 50 kuai to get into, we paid a taxi driver to take us to three different sites around the county. We squeezed into a mini bus and drove up the mountains and through terraced wheat fields to Tianloukeng Tulou Cluster. The views were incredible and the village was beautiful—obviously kept up with government or UN World Heritage Site funding. Slightly too varnished and touristy, it made me slightly uncomfortable. The round earth buildings still have people living in them despite the tables of souvenirs and postcards, and the store rooms, cooking areas, and little children playing gave me a conflicted feeling—we were invaders into these peoples’ homes, consuming the authenticity of their way of life, but providing them with an income and a profession. Tourists, Chinese and foreign alike, tend to seek out remnants of the past when life was slower and more simple, less modernized, and foreign in terms of convenience and lifestyle. I remember discussing the obsession people have with the past in anthropology—we did an entire unit on “authenticity: nostalgia and disgust.” We want to experience life the way it used to be, so exploring villages and places that link us to the past gives us a sense of history and progress, but in reality we’re paying to marvel at the banality of these peoples lives. We escape the “modern” banalities of our own lives to stare at the “authentic” lifestyles of people who still get their food from the earth and have chickens walking around their courtyards. I guess that’s my constant struggle with tourism in general, and I’m working on it. The second tulou site, Xia Ban Cun, was similar, although it was one larger tulou instead of a cluster with a shrine in the middle of the courtyard. The tulous were incredible, able to house entire clans and fend off marauding bands, and are still in use across Fujian and Guangdong provinces.

We found a nice little restaurant near our tulou for dinner. We were drawn in because it looked like it’d be brick inside, but it was actually fake wallpaper. The food was really good, and we hung out for hours drinking Chinese beer until the owners of our tulou told us they were barring the door. They literally put a giant beam across the door to keep everyone else out, and we grabbed some beer and some peanuts and bunkered down for a night in our little room. The boys had a bucket in their room, but our room was thankfully yet inconveniently bucket-less. We couldn’t figure out where we were supposed to use the bathroom, so multiple awkward trips to the courtyard behind the shrine followed. We didn’t find the little outhouse and taps with running water until the next morning. We packed up and got breakfast, bought bus tickets, and took a hike through the surrounding countryside. Stephen and Fred had gone on ahead, and as we were walking down the road, avoiding the speeding and constantly honking motorbikes and tourist buses, we saw a pair of people in the middle of a wheat field. With closer examination we discovered it was Fred and Stephen, and they waved us down. We followed the narrow pathways through the wheat field to a small temple, and hung out there for awhile. Remembering James Jones’s advice “You don’t need the Japanese Encephalitis shots unless you’re planning on hanging out in the middle of rice paddies in the middle of nowhere,” we laughed and applied multiple layers of deet-heavy bug repellent, but mistakenly forgot the sunscreen. We trekked back to the bus station to catch our seriously uncomfortable and sunburnt ride back to Xiamen. The bus broke down three times, but we made it back to our lovely guesthouse in time for showers and Kofi’s birthday dinner.

To celebrate, we returned to the bar street area the boys found the night of our foot massages. We wandered down a cement walkway lined with palm trees and lit by colored blubs built into the ground towards a giant pyramid overlooking the city. We hung out on top, playing games, until it was time for Kiki and Liz to go home and for the rest of us to hit up the clubs. The first bar was empty except for a few random foreigners, so we left and had to try Club KK, obviously necessary on Kofi Keteku’s birthday. Pounding techno music and massages in the men’s bathroom chased us away pretty quickly, and we found some crazy foreigners outside to hang out with for the rest of the night. Stephen, Fred and I left soon thereafter while the rest had their own series of adventures.

The next morning, Liz, Kiki and I were craving brunch food. The boys went to an arcade and we found My Best Restaurant, which Liz aptly described as the zenith of our trip. We ordered a towering mango mountain of crushed ice, juice, and fruit pieces, eggs, bacon and toast, and found out to our delighted surprise that not only was the salad bar and ice cream in the front free, but the “muffins” on the menu were actually Belgian-style waffles! Kiki’s had condensed milk, which is sweet like syrup and usually served with steamed bread like in Zhuhai (we love that stuff!), and Liz’s had strawberry sauce and whipped cream. Delicious.

Nearing the end of our trip, we gathered some groceries for the next 14 hours of our lives and narrowly caught the train back to Guangzhou. This time our seats were all together, and we started playing a game of asshole that attracted the attention of a ton of Chinese people around us. Somehow Yeah Yeah was on the same train back with us, in the same car, so we got to hang out more with her. Our card game grew to include about five Chinese passengers, including an eight year old girl who ended up schooling everyone. I gave up after about two hours but the rest of them played for about five! This train was less crowded than the first train, but less people got off and more got on along the way to Guangzhou, so we had no luck trying to lay down. Sleep was fleeting and intermittent, prevented by the uprightness of the chairs, close proximity of our neighbors, and sheer exhaustion of the trip. I hate it when I’m too tired to sleep! We arrived in Guangzhou at six in the morning, hopped on a train to Shenzhen and I was back in my apartment by ten. I basked in the glory that is my bathroom, complete with handsoap, a bathtub, and a flushing toilet, and checked my email for some contact with the outside world. A text from Megan Otteson ended my ill-advised nap that well-fucked my sleeping schedule—I slept from one pm to five—birthday dinner for her and Kofi at 7 in Luhou. Somehow I dragged myself out of my apartment in the pouring rain for the best Indian curry and tiramisu I’ve had in a long time. The restaurant was beautiful—it looked very posh but most of the dishes were less than 30 kuai! I’m sure we’ll make it back there soon. It was really nice to see other people from the program and hear about their adventures to Yangshuo, Hong Kong, Vietnam, and Thailand. I think we definitely roughed it more than anyone else, and I have pictures to prove it. It was a wonderful trip, and it was really nice getting to know what my friends here are all about. I think we definitely know each other much better now, and I’m comfortable saying that they’re all really good people.

I left the dinner early so I could keep a Skype date I had with my parents—it was the first time we were able to use the video chat! It was really nice to see them and know that they’re well. Things in the States seem stressful though, especially with the economy and the government bailout plan. I’m glad I’m in China with the ability to travel and hang out without the fear of losing my job. Speaking of which, it’s time to get back to my eager young minds and finish some lesson plans. I’m still teaching colloquial greetings and body language, and I’m showing the Budweiser Wassup commercial. The class I showed it to before break loved it, so I’m excited about this week. Hope all’s well and I’ll put pictures up soon, otherwise check them out on Facebook. ☺

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Photos

On the way to Yongding
Woman in a village in the Fujian countryside

Our tulou!
This is where we stayed in Hukeng village

The interior of our tulou
This was the inhabited side of the tulou that wasn't crumbling.

Negotiating with a 12 year-old
I think we ended up paying 60 kuai per room...

Tianloukeng Tulou Cluster
This village was amazing but made me a little uncomfortable.

Wheat fields, Yongding County
We hiked through the countryside around Hukeng village-- the terraced wheat fields were incredible.

Mango Mountain
At My Best Restaurant

Dude selling pets on the street
Outside the train station, Xiamen

High life low life and eight year olds
Playing cards on the train ride home

Comments

[pam]

hi...you dont know me..but i love to read random travel blogs..i usually dont find very many that keep my attention past the first two entries..I just read all of yours...but..i must have missed something...what are donkey people? I am looking forward to following your journey..excellent blogging....pam

[mvaahh]

Donkey Friends
We tried to stay at a hostel up near Zhangjiajia and the online description was hysterical-- I posted the entire paragraph in the "Donkey Friends" entry. The hostel's website said something like "the bar is momentarily open for the donkey friend." Then they said something like the rooms are elegant for the back people that want to bring in the prostitute. Your guess is as good as mine in terms of their actual meaning, but I thought it was a good story. Thanks for your interest!