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Published: April 28th 2010
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Day 19 - 24 April
We sit here, in the most extraordinary location so far. We are in Fenghuang, a mere 2 ¾ hour bus ride from Huaihua. Forced to stay an extra day in Guilin, through lack of train tickets, we secured 3 sleeper berths on Wednesday for a night train to Huaihua. This saw Frances and Lauren in one cabin, and Molly and I next door. We arrived there at 0115 hrs with no accommodation booked. As I am rapidly learning in China, this was not to be feared. Described as a city of 127,000 inhabitants, Huaihua is not to be confused with a Hamilton! The station was swarming, and the concourse alive with vendors and touts. Within 50 metres we saw probably 7 signs with the word “hotel” mentioned. The receptionist at the flash looking “Railway Hotel” seemed bemused at our arrival. The girls stood there for 5 minutes, looking dishevelled and ready for bed, while I pointed at the tariff board that said (in English and Mandarin) “Triple Room 168 RMB. With the use of the phrase book, and general gesticulations about going to sleep, I thought we could be safely tucked up in moments. Despite
Lauren enduring the crowds
She has learnt a very firm NO response to all photo ops my best endeavours, we seemed unable to interest her in our money. Confused, we reversed our weary steps and laid ourselves at the feet of a women who seemed to understand what we needed. Minutes later, we were tucked up in a tidy, if dodgy looking triple room. Bliss.
A frustrating day aside, we finally reach Fenghuang, late in the day. After walking for 15 minutes looking for “the old town”, we realise the bus has dropped us off not at the location described in Lonely Planet. We are a little disorientated, so (along with some visitors from Shanghai, whom we are following) we hail a taxi. Travellers rule number 47 gets forgotten, and I attempt to communicate our needs to him, with a map and guide book. Its all too much, and he pushes me away and speeds off! The next cabbie, we hijack, and load ourselves and our bags before we say a word. This one won’t get away so easily!! With my map, and a bit of enthusiastic pointing, we find the old town, and he walks with me through the lanes and alleys to find our Inn. NZ$3.00 later, and we have a happy cabbie,
Our accommodation
A view from the Hong Bridge back towards our room, in the middle of this group of buildings and a happy family. The Inn is gorgeously located and utterly charming, if somewhat rustic. Its only later, that the dark side becomes evident!
Its 7.30 am and I have already been woken up by the noises of Asia. The others sleep, courtesy of ear plugs and eye shades.
It is hard to describe the innumerable activities of work and play that can create so much activity and such a symphony at this time.
Thwack thwack thwack, as some ladies commence the daily routine of thrashing clothing, sheets and towels time and time again on the riverbank stones right here, in the heart of the tourist throng.
The chug chug chug of a “grader” motor boat that is cruising the river clearing all the debris from the surface.
The chatter of the boatmen paddling the rubbish collection boats.
The screeching of the women squatting on the river bank, rinsing bundles of vegetables
The 1,2,3 “whooow” shout that emulates every few minutes as another tour group has their photo taken as local Miao Villagers in local dress. Yes, at 7.30 am it has started already.
The yabbering on the cell phones, and shouting
at each other, of the groups out cruising the river on little Chinese style gondolas. Looking out for only a moment, I count over 10 of these boats. Wait a minute, and the number will double. The mind boggles at what time these diehards started
The yelp of a stray dog, or two
Toot, toot, toooooot toot, of the cars, taxis and motorbikes all making up for the 5 hours of silence before 0600 hrs.
The clanging of wok implements, as another days cooking to feed the hoards is underway
A somewhat strangulated rendition of what could only be a local Miao song, done again for the conveyor belt of tour groups that seem to congeal at the centre of a beautiful (and I assume rebuilt) covered bridge
The sirens in the distance
The shouting as vendors, neighbours, tourists, residents and all and sundry start off on another day of activity that leaves us, as New Zealanders, in its wake feeling overrun and exhausted before it begins.
The continuous “hoiking” as another glob of expectorate prepares to hit the pavement and deaden the dust that threatens to escape.
All this, and the
day has hardly begun.
At first we wondered what we had found, but as the day unfolds, we realise why this is a famous town in China. Much of what we see supposedly dates to the 1700’s. Built as a river trading town, and fortified with a large stone wall, much of it supposedly remains. However, over our stay, I remain sceptical as to how much is real, and how much is the new China, created for the burgeoning domestic tourism masses. Putting this aside, we spend the day wandering the alleys and paths, dodging the symbols of China. Lauren is accosted at every turn. Hands appear from nowhere to not just touch her hair, but to squeeze her arms. Cameras are thrust into her path, without even a gesture of “please” or “may I“. Her own tolerance is low, Frances’s is even lower. We need to be mindful that we are visitors in their land, but the intrusion into a 3 year old’s personal space is challenging to deal with. We will leave Fenghuang, leaving behind few pictures of her smiling. Following on from her mum, she has no difficulty in remonstrating towards an intruding camera. Dad, on
the other hand, eggs the locals on, and is likely to get thwacked himself shortly. Molly, attracts the interest of many young women. All keen to pose complete with the obligatory “peace sign” she proves more accommodating.
We see almost no Westerners over 4 days, and English is only available when I go seeking young students to assist. The town, is alluring, and on our first full day, the sun, absent since NZ, puts the day high in our satisfaction ratings.
Our location is fabulous, and at NZ$37, how could we go wrong? At 5.00 pm, the bars and nightclubs of this changing town appear from holes in the wall. Unsighted by day, the night unfolds a new set of communist interpretation. By my reckoning, up until very recently, the old town, was a densely populated mix of shops, vendors, hovels, Inns and restaurants. Lying peaceful and undiscovered, I expect generations have grown up and stayed within the narrow confines of this little town. But the giant, that is Chinese Tourism, seems to unleash, in the most inappropriate way, a barrage of commercialism that we find incomprehensible. How the Chinese in NZ comprehend our planning rules, resource consent,
Not to be undertaken after a few beers
Lauren and Frances are about to hold up 200 impatient locals! liquor laws and the myriad of other constraints we have, is worth contemplation. Here there must surely be none. For at 5.00 pm every bar rises in honour of the town’s name, Phoenix Town, and unleashes the most unbelievable barrage of music from every nook and cranny. Our little room vibrates with the boom boom boom of a dozen live bands, all playing to sparsely populated chairs and tables. Seemingly turning the volume up to compete with each other, the noise echoes back and forward across the river, creating a Big Day Out night after night. What the three generations of family who run our guesthouse think is beyond me. They seem resigned to such a malignant force. We, however, manage 2 nights before resigning our gorgeous location for peace and tranquillity upriver!
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chris
non-member comment
Good Read
Very good read, I particularly enjoyed your hearty rendition and only had to resort to the dictionary once!! Just joking.......chris