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Published: February 9th 2007
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Somebody has to be up there planning these things...
Following my death-defying motorcycle down to Yangshuo, I awoke the next morning with a sense of both excitement and confusion. I was ready to get out and explore the area, but hadn't done much research and didn't know where to head first. So I didn't.
Instead, I enjoyed a fine chocolate banana pancake and yogurt muesli at the aptly named Minnie Mao's Cafe. Breakfast, though not quite a pancake, just can't get much better when dining on a small lakefront with an overarching karst peak sitting directly behind. I strolled town for the remainder of the morning, shopping for cheap hotel rooms and what not. It is the off-season down here, and therefore a deal is to be had at every corner. Quite literally too, as every corner is flooded with unused tour guides passing the time by knitting, just dying to take you on a bamboo boat ride. Somehow a simple "Bamboo, Bamboo!" is supposed to be your clue this is a boat trip.
After moving in to a fine new hotel room, complete with 4th floor balcony of course, I had an entire afternoon in front of
me with absolutely no plans. I had hoped to just take the day easy and get my bearings. I definitely ended up doing one of those things...
I rented a bike from my hotel, figuring I'd take off for nearby Yueliang Shan, or Moon Hill, an absolutely stunning mountain arch formation. I was pumped. It was exactly the type of thing I was looking forward to this entire trip, just taking off with no real guide or plan, just seeing what I find. What I found was something else - a flat tire.
Cue the Charlie Brown music...
Nearly 3km outside of town, I pulled to the side for a perfect picture opportunity. Content with thirty photos, I took off again, even more excited now that I was nearing the mountain. Yet something just wasn't right. I was tired, but my legs were having way too difficult a time with the flat highway. I pulled over again only to find a sagging, droopy piece of rubber flapping on what should be my wheel. Crap.
This far out there really isn't much in the way of a bike repair shop, only peaks and cows. Sure, there were
plenty of people passing on bikes, but none carrying a pump. So I began walking, and the misadventure begins now.
My first stop was a small rock climbing establishment directly off the road. Claiming to rent bikes, I figured it was a good bet. No dice. What kind of bike rental place doesn't have a pump? I'll tell you. One that caters to small rock-climbing children no older than 4 or 5. Seriously, there were two little tykes up on the rock face, a good 70 feet up, and maybe ten or so waiting at the base. I stood in awe of the mini-Hercules I was now witnessing, only to be pushed aside by three stray oxen enjoying a stroll on the freeway. Whatever, probably time to find a pump anyhow.
Just further up, I found a giant butterfly statue plastered to the side of one peak, with a larger peddling store front outside. Turns out to be a butterfly sanctuary set inside a cave. I give it a "Hmm..." and proceed to ask two of the old women out front selling water if they had any ideas. Of course no pump at the butterfly heaven, but just
My Goal
Yueliang Shan up the street, as they said, was a ______ (insert Chinese word) that could help. I walk off again, now looking for a _____ on the left side of the road.
I find a small shack and a turn-off to a tourist rafting area. Outside the shack, two elderly women are bundling wood and starting small trash fires. They most definitely don't have a pump, so I take down the turn-off. I wind up in a small village, complete with walking poultry and a few ducks to keep me company. Making my way through, things are deadly silent, until a shrill "Where you going!?" breaks the tension. A local woman, with yellow arm straps that apparently mark her as the tourism center, informs me that no one in this town has a pump. How she knows that not a single citizen would dare have something as trivial as a pump was beyond me, but she was damn sure of it. She did say though that a small house at the turn-off does.
The shack. These two stick-bundling, trash-lighting women double as the bike repair authority. For 1 kuai, I was pumped, both in tire and spirit, and ready to get back on the road. By this time it was nearing late afternoon, so I knew I should just get back to town, lest I have any more tire troubles. I took off in a blaze, only to come crashing back to earth within 20 seconds. Flat tire.
My tire wasn't just out of air, it was toast. Absolutely destroyed. Crap...again. Charlie Brown anyone?
So I did what had already became a familiar theme of the day, I walked. Back towards Yangshuo, and of course my previous stops. Now I don't know how to possibly begin to explain the absolute irony/coincidence/stroke of pure dumb luck that occurred in the next five minutes, but I'll let you take from it what you will.
As I neared the cave of wonders and butterflies, I saw my two old water-peddling friends out front. This time, something gleamed in their eyes, like heaven on earth had just arrived and they were the first to see it. They begin pointing excitedly, a pop to their step as they yell to me across the street. What could the possibly be so excited about? More importantly, that I would be excited about too?
A bicycle tire repair truck.
Parked next to their water stand, a beautiful piece of machinery glimmered a brilliant white, pictures of heavenly rubber tires painted to its side, and a small Chinese man complete with sport coat flashing a God-like smile. A truly supernatural coincidence, somebody had to have hashed this plan out long before I rented the busted chariot that took me on this voyage. I pulled my bike to the side, and the sport coat-wearing saint took up his tools and went to work.
I sat quietly, stunned to silence, as my bike was brought back to life. A tourist couple and guide joined me, them too caught up by the absolute coincidence they were now witnessing.
Whatever got me there, whether it be fate or just poor tire quality, it was one of those moments where you just stop, look around, and wonder what kind of world we are living in. I did next what anyone would have done - bought some water, headed back to town, and prepared to do it all over again the next day.
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