Rice Terraces

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hair dryer salesman

Shiny sugar dough

Yao singing

Hair demo

Loom

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Yao singing
hair dryer salesman
Hair demo
Loom The next morning we all met at Dom and Sophie’s hotel for breakfast, and low and behold, our waitress was the girl Dave, Sean and Nicki had saved the previous night. What a coincidence. Karen’s sister Susie somehow ended up in Yangshuo at 4 in the morning, so she joined for the trip to the rice terraces. Dom and Sophie were wicked hung over and decided not to come, so in the end it was me, Sean, Dave, Nicki, Karen and Suzie. First we had to take a bus to Guilin. We spent an hour in Guilin so that I could run to the hostel and drop off my stuff (I wasn’t planning on returning to Yangshuo). Then we took another bus to Longshen. On that bus we met a Swedish guy named Henrik and an Australian named Anton, both of whom were planning on seeing the rice terraces but had no idea how to get there. Luckily, Dave had been there before, and we added them onto our group. In Longshen we got off the bus and were immediately approached by a woman offering a bus ride and boarding house in the rice terraces. Turned out we had to ride another two hours to get there. So we followed her onto a tiny 20 seat bus and tried to get comfortable. That was hard, since the seats were designed for Chinese people. It was one of the most uncomfortable rides of my life. My legs not fit in the space provided, I was just too long from my hips to my knees to cram them in there, so I had to prop my knees on the seat in front of me. Then the bus made a few stops, and got really really crowded. Even the people standing up could barely move. Out guide who offered us the boarding house sat next to me, and I let her listen to my Ipod for a while. She didn’t seem very interested. Not her kind of music I guess. (I played her Sufjan Stevens.) After about an hour we reached the mountains, and that’s when the ride got treacherous. We followed a narrow bumpy road that wound around the mountains. To our left was a steep hill, well let’s call it a cliff, taunting us with our doom. And man, were we BARRELLING. It was a ride to remember. At one point we had to stop and buy tickets to enter the rice terraces. It cost about 50 kuai. Finally finally finally we reached the entrance to our rice terrace village, Da Zai. There was a gate where they took your ticket and about a dozen Yao minority women milling about trying to sell stuff and get us to hire them to carry our bags. They were quite insistent, and I finally let one of them take my stuff. We followed them up a wide dirt road that led to the village. Our boarding house was huge, and we were the only people there that night. There wasn’t any heat, but there was running water, which is what really matters. The cold didn’t really end up bothering me that much anyway. We got settled and looked at some of the goods that some of the woman who had followed us into the house were selling. I bought a couple wraps and a belt, they’re really pretty. Then we went to look for dinner. We found a restaurant about two buildings away. We ordered a LOT of dishes. The most exciting dish was the specialty, bamboo chicken, which is chicken and sauce cooked in a bamboo log. Unfortunately it was kind of disappointing. The sauce was ok, but the Chinese have a habit of chopping up chicken and then throwing all the pieces into the pot together, head, feet, lungs and all. It was comical, I kept hearing “what the hell is this? What do you think this is? “Well what does it taste like?” “I’m NOT eating that, you eat it.” No one went for the head, but Dave was into the feet and I think I ate a bite of one of the lungs. During dinner two of the Yao women working there sang for us, check out the video. It was a nice distraction from the mutilated chicken. We took a long dinner, and then returned to the boarding house. We all stayed up wicked late talking and drinking beer.
Monday morning I woke up feeling a bit sick, tummy troubles (my constantly recurring affliction.) I went out onto the terrace and found Nicki taking photos. We chatted a bit and watched a horse take a crap and then turn around to examine it on the stone path below us, (I think he was mad because he was tied up) and then we went in search of some breakfast. It didn’t take us long. We were 50 paces down (about 30 from the horse) when a Yao woman stuck her head out of a window and beckoned us in saying “chi fan, chi fan” (food, food). We came in and followed her through her house into her kitchen, which was basically a big pit with a huge rack of meat hanging over a fire and wok (check out the picture). I guess that’s how they smoke their meat. She made us a sort of sugar rice soup called “oil tea.” The rice was both in normal rice form and in these puff balls that tasted kind of like Kixs. It was delicious. Eventually Dave found us and joined us for food. She refused our offer of money, but then led us into the main room of the house to show us her hair and her loom (see pic and video) and her goods that she made with it. The Yao Minority women claim to have the longest hair in the world. (they use extensions for thickness, I can’t really explain it just look at the video) She unwound it off her head and combed it out to show us. And yes, it was incredibly long. She was a little too practiced at posing for photos though. She even told us to get out our cameras. Then she wound it back up and it was haggle time. I bought a small throw blanket for 20 kaui. Dave was struggling not to overpay for a quilted blanket. She kept saying the price was reasonable, that she had a daughter that she had to support through school. She was a tough cookie, but Dave was pretty brutal himself. He didn’t end up making the purchase. After we said our goodbyes we went back to the boarding house to herd people together. Everyone besides the sisters was just getting up. It took awhile, but we eventually started out to the terraces. About ten minutes out we figured we’d need a guide, so we stopped and asked an old lady who was weaving a bracelet off of her toe if she’d show us around. (Well, Dave asked her. Besides him only Sean could really speak Chinese. Actually, it was surprising that the Yao women could speak Mandarin. That’s kind of a new thing.) The old woman agreed. And man, were we glad we had her. The terraces were vast, and had an endless maze of paths and stone steps winding through them. The terraces were beautiful. What more can I say. Though I do wish it had been later in the year when they would have been lush and green instead of dry and brown. At the top of one of the hills we met a little boy selling drinks. He was cute. A good haggler.
Around 1:30 I had to head back to catch a bus back to Guilin with Karen and Suzie. I was pretty sad to leave. IT was so peaceful out there, and quiet. It was the first time since I arrived that I couldn’t hear cars honking.
Guilin was fairly uneventful. I met a couple named Morgon and, um, Craig? They teach in China as well. We went out to dinner at a restaurant recommended by Lonely Planet, and man, was it bad. If Greg hadn't stolen my Lonely Planet I would write the name, but unfortunutely I forget it now. Not that I'm that anxious to get my Lonely Planet back. It's been fairly unhelpful this year, even lied at times. Anyway, after the restaurant we hung out on the street to listen to a hair dryer salesman advertise his product. He was quite persuasive, I almost tried to figure out what the hell he was saying.

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Photos

group
They rushed at me, dressed me, and insisted on a photo. I swear.